by GR Griffin
“The Crystal Cave is an opportunity we cannot pass. I need you to go to the Ealdor clan, but with a different agenda. Convince those druids to leave their settlement.”
On the outside, Arthur appeared to show no emotion. On the inside however, he felt slightly nauseous, his worst fears were a reality. He should have known that his father would be unable to look beyond the biggest accumulation of oil. Swallowing-hard, he met his father squarely in the eyes.
“And if they refuse?”
Silence. Arthur clenched his fists, teeth gritted. It was hardly likely that these druids were going to surrender their holy land, their everything for Camelot, the business that had spread the prosecution of druids worldwide. He dreaded to think what his father’s actions would be if this were the case. He didn’t have to think long.
“Then I have no choice. We need that oil-“
“-F-father-“ Arthur spluttered, unable to contain his shock, eyes widened at this blatantly inappropriate suggestion. That was the even more shocking thing – to many, this would not be seen as immoral or wrong.
“-After we have built our base and established our agenda, you will have five months to convince them to move. The future of Camelot Enterprise’s reputation and power depends on this one negotiation.” Uther patted his son’s shoulder compellingly. “I’m sorry to place such a burden upon you but there is no-one else that I can trust. Tell no-one of this.”
♦☼♦
“Valiant!” Morgana spat over dinner that evening in Arthur’s apartment. She stuck her knife vehemently into her lasagne, Arthur watched observantly, trying to dismiss the events of today seemed more and more impossible.
“Valiant. I can’t believe Uther expects me to work with that…that pig!”
“I’d advise you do so with caution, we both witnessed his attitude towards the project this afternoon.” Arthur stated slowly, sitting down opposite Morgana.
Titling her head, the raven-haired woman smiled.
“It’s unlike you to get so worried Arthur.” She cooed.
Sipping his wine, Arthur rolled his eyes. He took a second to appreciate the rich, fruity flavour of the Rioja before replying.
“I’m being serious Morgana. You will be careful won’t you? Valiant is forceful man.”
She smirked playfully.
“And I’m a forceful woman.”
Arthur didn’t have the energy to respond. For a few moments, fate allowed his world to consist of lasagne and wine- two wonderful things that caused him no stress, two marvellous things that didn’t talk, didn’t call him weak or insignificant, two things that didn’t order him about to do the impossible.
“What was all that about anyway?” Morgana said pensively through a mouthful of lasagne. Swallowing her mouthful, she finished her sentence.
“Uther placing you in a department you don’t belong, and underneath somebody else?”
Ah, so she had picked up on that. Of course she had. Barely anything made its way past Morgana’s sharp inquisitive mind.
“I respect my father’s decision. If he wants me to work for Leon, I will do so.” He responded gently, taking another sip of wine to compensate for the massive lie he had just told. Obviously, he would work for Leon; he was a respected colleague and long-time friend. Yet the haunting words of his father were ones that he knew could never be spoken.
Smiling, Morgana put her fork down.
“Arthur, what I said when Gaius…” she paused, both of them thinking back on that dreadful day. “Well…I wanted to apologise. You’re not cold, and you’re not heartless. It was wrong of me to judge you in such a way on one action that was not of your own doing.”
In all their years of growing up together, Arthur Pendragon truly believed that this was the nicest thing she had ever said to him. And right now, this apology, this playing up of his good qualities was just what he needed. Because sometime in the future, he was going to do something undeniably bad, completely of his own doing.
He was going to do something completely Pendragon.
Chapter 5
Balinor knew any other druid would have gone to great lengths to have the chance to look into the Crystals of Ealdor. It was one of those special moments almost every druid dreamt of in their childhood when told the story of the Crystals. Only those chosen, destined, were allowed to glimpse into the creamy, white crystals and interpret the future. It was Merlin’s destiny to do so, and in more depth than Balinor had ever done. Not only was he expected to do so as the future ruler of the Ealdor clan, but as the one and only Emrys. His wife tried not to think about who and what Emrys was. It never bode well in her mind, the notion that her son was the most powerful druid to have ever lived, and that one day he would fulfil all that the scriptures of the æmryš had prophesised. Balinor tried to look upon his son as a normal druid too, not wanting him to feel isolated or different from the others. But it was hard, especially as he had grown older.
His birth, rarely spoken of, was a whirlwind of chaos within itself. After his conception in the blackened night, storms raged through the earth, trees uplifted from their roots. There were droughts for many months in the desert regions of Albion, and treacherous floods where the land kissed the water’s feet. Many rejoiced instead of mourning over this disaster, believing this was the time Emrys was finally born into the world:
THERE WILL BE A MIGHTY STORM
Balinor and Hunith prayed to the Gods that no matter who their son would be, he would be safe. They had been showered with glorious gifts from the clan, and from druids all across Albion. The moment he was born, the whole of Albion appeared to dwell in a lingering silence, the night sky filling up with a peculiar aurora of vibrant colours and patterns tremendously. Balinor and Hunith pretended they hadn’t seen it, not wanting to admit the legends were true and place such a burden on their only child this young in his life. But even then, Balinor could not deny that his son’s birth had been foreshadowed in a stanza found within the book of old.
AND EVERYTHING SHALL BE IGNITED IN FLAMES
Balinor had put a ban on the word ‘Emrys’. Nobody in the clan was to speak that name or call Merlin by it until the legends had proven themselves to be true. Merlin deserved a proper childhood, away from the burdens of Emrys before it would totally consume him in later life. However, five years later, a foreign witch seeking Hunith’s healing powers had changed everything. The woman had pointed at Merlin vehemently, as if he were a daemon that could devour her any second. Then from her lips, the oldest name known to the druids echoed throughout Ealdor: Emrys. No matter how much Hunith and Balinor tried to prevent his son from remembering that word, Merlin was adamant, curious.
And it was from this young age he discovered his destiny.
Merlin had attempted to act like being Emrys changed nothing, but Balinor could see right through his son’s façade. Deep inside, Merlin was scared; uncertain of his power, unsure if he was an anomaly or special. Even now, at the age of twenty, the name shadowed over him compellingly.
“Do I really have to do this father?” Merlin whined drearily as he climbed out of the tree sprouting with blossom, breaking Balinor from his thoughts. He pulled a hand through his black hair in exasperation before continuing.
“I’ve tamed three Wyverns this morning, dealt with Will’s stupidity-” he rolled his eyes comically at the memory of having to rescue Will from an unhappy Centaur in the forest earlier. Apparently, Will had been crazy enough to try and mount it like a horse- and he then had the audacity to question why the Centaur had tried to kill him! Merlin felt a grin slip over his face at the mental image of stumbling upon this scene.
“-it’s part of your training to become the leader of Ealdor Merlin, you know this.” Balinor said grimly, gazing at his son’s face that had become troubled. He knew how much Merlin had been dreading this day- the day he first looked into the Crystals.
Sighing, Merlin nodded obediently, fists clenched on either side. There was no denying this moment, no backing down. Thi
s was something he knew he was going to have to do at some point in his life. The pair of them walked in silence down the parted archway of trees, streaks of sunlight burst through the canvas of leaves swaying above in the wind’s placid breath. The silence was strangely comforting, allowing the raven-haired man to cast his thoughts away; to indulge in the hypnotic swirling patterns of light, and absorb the astounding beauty of his homeland. He had not seen much of Albion, despite his desire to. There were so many overwhelming sights of nature’s skilful crafting: the valiant mountains of Ghedent said to touch the tips of heaven, the lush paradise of Monus and its infinite garden of effervescent flowers, the great waterfall of Retriax, the Saerion reef…his magic shuddered at the notion of being able to see these places with his own eyes, and yet – he hadn’t even begun the list of Albion’s finest landscape.
But Ealdor, he knew, was almost unparalleled in its beauty. The clan was blessed to have been offered this sacred land hundreds of years ago. It was here where the wise trees spoke a language long forgotten and grew to a formidable size, some spanning metres in width alone. It was here where the forests were cluttered with a magnificent ecosystem full of amazing creatures. Not only this- Ealdor had the Crystal Cave. The cave where the ancient texts had been created, where every foundation of druid law and morality had once been forged. It was the place thousands pilgrimaged to every year, from all across the land.
And here he was, one of a small handful to ever enter inside.
Reaching the mouth of the cave, Merlin gazed over to his father with an uncertain frown. His heart raced, hands becoming a little clammy in apprehension. Noticing his son’s anxiety, Balinor pressed a hand on his shoulder, and spoke.
“Part of being a leader is being able to deal with difficult events, being able to interpret the unclear. Very few in the whole of Albion have the privilege of looking into the Crystals.”
Acknowledging his father’s words with a courteous nod, Merlin watched a bearded man emerge from the cave, donating a small smile in his direction. The smile unnerved him. Taliesin’s presence made the future ever more certain. Merlin was going to look into the Crystals today, the crystals that had driven some to insanity- the crystals that could change a man and everything he believed in a matter of seconds. The raw magic here was overwhelming, tugging his own subconsciously forwards. Unable to resist the pull, Merlin turned to his father urgently. His father had come out of that cave unscathed; perhaps he would also. Perhaps he would not. His father was a strong, courageous man who not only mustered great magic but great strength and wisdom. Merlin was still learning, he was far from anything his father was, and even further from Emrys. As he took a step forwards, that face entered his mind; his voice enough to dissipate any obstacle.
“Gaius once told me the future was dangerous, and the events aren’t always imminent, and to act upon what you see is unwise.” Merlin said quietly, voice swathed in evident concern for Gaius.
It had been Gaius who had prepared Balinor for his first reading of the Crystals after all. Clasping his hands together in a solemn gesture of commemoration and respect, Balinor caught his son’s eyes.
“Gaius is right.” He replied, the smile on his face not touching his eyes. “Taliesin will take it from here.”
With that, his father turned on his heel and walked down from the cave, leaving Merlin closer to the edge. Meeting Taliesin’s eyes, Merlin took one small step forwards with great indecision smothering his gait. He had never been inside the cave before. He’d seen it of course, the clan performed many sacred rituals and blessings here. It was eerier than he had first imagined. Within the darkness ahead, he could see twinkling crystals shimmering, waiting to be read, ready to read him. A breath hitched itself awkwardly in his chest, causing a sensation of dizziness. This was it. This was the moment he had been destined for.
Merlin wasn’t stupid. He knew that the æmryš had mentioned this day in an anonymous, yet memorable, ballad. If he recalled correctly, ‘he who is in fact he, will look into the eyes of stone and see what is- or what is not to be.’ He was dubious of its true meaning; many nights it had kept him awake and wondering. Now it was all going to be answered, and yet – these answers would not be answers, but simply more questions. The terrifying thing was that the questions he found within the crystals had the power to border impossibility.
“Young Merlin, the time has come for you to take your first look into the Crystals.”
“Whatever you see,” Taliesin’s voice rang out ahead of him. “be certain not to give this newfound information away freely. As a future ruler, part of this lesson is to teach you how to prepare for what challenges the future may bring to your people.”
The pair of them reached the end of the narrow tunnel that bled out into a vast clearing. Crystals, some larger than Merlin himself were sprouting from the cave walls; he assumed they were profoundly deep in the heart of the cave. In the centre of this crystal chamber was one particularly engaging Crystal, jagged on its edges and quixotically smooth on its side. It was a metre or so high, reflective enough to be a mirror. But this was not a mirror into the present. Glancing to Taliesin, Merlin reluctantly took a step forwards towards this large Crystal. He was unsure how exactly to approach it. Did he need to cast a spell? Would it require any magic at all? Taliesin noted this confusion and misinterpreted it as fear.
“Fear not, these Crystals have not prophesised anything horrific for hundreds of years. And even when they have, the predictions are not always what they seem.”
Merlin assumed this was supposed to be reassuring. It only unleashed the panic that had been so carefully tucked away in the pit of his stomach. Bursting through his skin, the panic lit his sapphire eyes with real fear. He could not help but feel the future of his people, the wellbeing of the druids rested on this event. Kneeling down before the large Crystal, Merlin stared into the white, shining stone. His reflection stared anxiously back at him, a ghostly projection of himself. Half of him expected it to magically shift into blinding images; the other half of him believed if he just kept staring intensely something would appear.
Nothing happened.
About to turn around to the Crystal guardian, Merlin opened his mouth to speak. He was abruptly cut off by the man’s voice and a magical spell that indicated his attention was not to leave the Crystal in front of him.
“Look into the crystals Emrys,” Taliesin hissed. “Really look.”
Merlin exhaled audibly. He was looking. Frustrated, he distanced himself from the crystal, eyes never leaving it. He relaxed his gaze a little, opening his mind. Then all of a sudden, something happened. The space around became unimportant, a different reality stuck in a mesh of blurry oblivion. His magic seared, and the Crystal slowly began to reveal its secrets. The first image was as clear as day, so tantalisingly clear Merlin was certain he could reach to touch it. It showed the forests of Ealdor, and an unfamiliar familiar voice ringing through his ears, whispering his own name. Then it became disorientating, his forehead throbbing violently. The images seemed to move radically, bringing him towards them to create this overpowering motion sickness that enveloped his body.
A coin.
He saw flames, he heard screams. He saw happiness; he felt a rush of ecstasy which was quickly intercepted with a limitless sadness. Blinding flashes of light, his own face swathed in tears, uncontrollable sobs tearing from his mouth; Gwenevere running; a dragon surged towards him. Merlin fell backwards automatically to the ground, forgetting these images could not harm him, or that he was there. His eyes widened. Destiny. That world, those people, weeping, laughing. Then it all spun round his head once more at a rapid pace. Destiny. Once and Future. A coin. Clutching both hands to his head, he groaned in agony. Destruction. Death. Life. Destiny.
The once and future.
Slamming his eyes shut, he wretched his body away from the Crystal, curling up defensively. He didn’t hear Taliesin come to his aid and gently smooth a palm over his trembling body. No. No. He could hear h
is own voice echoing throughout the cave, no longer sure if it was him or the projection of him in the Crystal. Opening his eyes abruptly, Merlin panted heavily. Taliesin’s mouth was moving, but his words were muted. Glancing away, the young man cast one brave glance back at the Crystal that had refrained from becoming a window of time.
Amongst everything he had seen, one thing had been constant in his vision: the striking blue eyes, the golden blonde hair of Arthur Pendragon.
Though what he had seen Arthur Pendragon do, what he had seen in the crystals…he felt his own mind barricade the memories away, not even able to recall it.
One thing, however, he was absolutely certain of.
Arthur Pendragon was coming to Albion.
And somehow, this clotpole was his destiny.
Chapter 6
It was five weeks after the conversation in the moonlight with his father, Balinor, about this very day that it happened. The sun had just toppled over the horizon languidly, leaving behind a smear of vibrant scarlet, amber and lilac that slowly morphed into the black blanket unfolding above. Merlin had never seen anything like it.
The strange sound of incessant buzzing echoed through the air, a peculiar ethos of panic had spread from clan to clan like wildfire. Merlin had felt the tremor of uncertainty. And then, as he glanced over towards Serepolis, his eyes met the burnishing flames. Swallowing-hard, he dreaded to move his focus to where Dresdentian lay. In a few seconds, he bravely glanced over, only to be met by the same glow. The beacons had been lit, which had to mean one thing: Camelot Enterprise were on their way to Albion.
Merlin had wasted no time, rushed towards his father and mother, who were summoning the druids. There were too many druids to get past to stand on the platform with them, and pushing through the crowd would no doubt produce unnecessary attention. Merlin’s eyes had drifted over towards Eisha and her new-born child resting in her arms. The very sight of one of life’s greatest gifts juxtaposed against the thought of what was impending sickened him.
