by J. M. Briggs
Up head were the limestone hills, Morgana recognized them by the sharp outcropping and sighed in relief that at least she recognized where they were. Glancing over her shoulder, she could see the tor rising above a sea of early morning mists. Worry for Airril made Morgana bite her lip, but she quickly looked back towards Merlin and Arto in time to see them moving forward again. Merlin pointed towards the west and they began to follow the side of the limestone hill. Morgana frowned as she glanced the direction that Merlin had indicated: they were heading for the gorge.
The sun was still quite low when they reached the mouth of the gorge, and Morgana looked up uncertainly at the high cliffs that rose on either side of the small valley. With the sun still so low, almost no light was reaching the bottom of the gorge, casting darkness over the path ahead. Merlin paused and created another orb of light which he once again placed on the top of his staff. Humming softly, he stepped into the long shadows with Arto at his side. Morgana huffed, but followed them from a safe distance using the trees to hide herself.
Each step Morgana took along the narrow valley felt painful as her legs protested. Only the light of Merlin's staff illuminating the sides of the gorge allowed her a distraction from her exhaustion. She took in the pale stone as it rose far above her head, all the while wondering where Merlin was leading them. A quick gesture from Merlin had Arto climbing up a slope towards a cliff face with Merlin right behind. Morgana paused behind them and waited for a moment before following them up the incline.
Then they were gone and Merlin's light vanished from her sight. Morgana panicked for a moment before spotting a wide opening in the rock. She had to duck down to slip inside, but was able to see the glimmer of Merlin's light ahead of her. Crawling forward, Morgana focused on taking deep breathes and tried to push away thoughts of the Sídhe tunnels.
Thankfully, the passage soon grew larger and Morgana was able to stand. She had to carefully move through several narrow sections, but was able to keep an eye on the glow of Merlin's light up ahead, now terrified of losing it and being left in total darkness.
Her foot slipped on the moist limestone and Morgana barely caught herself on a nearby stalagmite. Ahead of her Merlin paused but didn't turn around. She heard a soft chuckle echo up the passage and grit her teeth. He knew she was following them; he'd probably known since she had taken her first fall in the dark. The desire to hit him rose up once again, but Arto began moving through the narrow passage again.
The passage suddenly widened into a large cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites joined to form pillars of stone around the entrance with a small bank of slick shining stone just before a large pool of water. The light of Merlin's staff glinted off the still surface and made the rocks shimmer with hints of green and orange along with flashes of black and pure white.
“It's beautiful,” Arto breathed ahead of Morgana, coming to a stop at the edge of the water. As he turned, Morgana pressed herself against the passage wall, just outside the reach of Merlin's light.
Walking forward to join Arto, Merlin placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “It is beautiful,” he agreed warmly. “Shall we?”
Nodding, Arto pulled a bronze dagger from his belt and knelt, lowering the blade into the water. Then he lifted it up, pulled his arm back and tossed it. The dagger hit the smooth surface of the pool with a heavy splash, sending ripples outward. Water lapped at the surface and Morgana raised an eyebrow, wondering if Merlin had only brought Arto to this cave for an offering.
The water rolled outward from the impact, but gaining height and speed rather than calming. The height of each ripple grew higher and higher, surging out of the previously still pool. Gaping, Morgana stepped away from the wall, watching in awe as small streams of water rose gracefully from the surface, twirling together. The shimmering streams wove around each other forming a tall figure, cloaked in a veil of water. Then the water settled, solidifying the figure.
It was a woman, or looked similar to one, Morgana amended quickly in her mind. This being was as different from humans as the Queen was. Long black hair hung across her shoulder with small braids adding texture and a circlet of glowing water droplets illuminated her face. Curving blue and black designs highlighted her large green eyes and made her bronze colored skin seem aglow. A beautiful smile took over the beings face as she beheld Merlin and Arto standing on the banks.
“Merlin,” the woman greeted her voice warm with a strange echoing quality. It soothed Morgana and made her long to sink to the floor and sleep. “Arto.”
“Lady Cyrridven,” Arto greeted with a small bow that made Cyrridven chuckle.
“Oh sweet child,” Cyrridven cooed before she returned her gaze to Merlin. “Then you are prepared.”
“It is time,” Merlin told her with a firm nod.
Cyrridven nodded and looked around the cave with a small frown. “An interesting choice of location Merlin, but it will do.”
“I am hoping that the cave may conceal our actions from the Sídhe,” Merlin explained with a hint of worry. “This will take some time.”
“Indeed,” Cyrridven agreed before raising her arms in front of her. Water swirled up from the surface and settled in her arms for a moment before washing away leaving a heavy looking rolled animal skin in her arms. “I have protected this as you requested.”
“My thanks to you Cyrridven,” Merlin answered with a small bow before he stepped into the water to take the burden from her.
Leaning forward, Morgana tried to understand what she was seeing as Merlin set down the large bundle with a huff and began to unwrap it. Arto blocked her view as he moved to help the older man. The young man sidestepped a moment later and set a large smooth topped stone to the side with a grunt of his own. Then he lifted the stone onto a nearby stalagmite that had a wide base and twisted it to grind it down. The limestone slowly gave way, until Arto had secured a level base. Brushing off his hands, Arto checked the stone's position and tried to shift it, but it had settled enough not to move. Neither of them spoke as Merlin began to light a fire in one of the holes in the floor, putting the flames at a lower level while Arto set up a pair of bellows and began connecting the airway to the fire pit. Merlin then picked up a smaller pelt wrapped package and set it down by the stone that Arto had positioned.
Turning his attention back to the larger pelt, Merlin reached over and rolled it out, revealing piles of small rough rocks, many of them with streaks of red. Swallowing, Arto knelt down at the edge of the skin and reached out to touch the first rock.
“These are the most pure in the heart of this realm,” Cyrridven informed them, her words making Morgana frown with confusion, but clearly meaning something to Arto and Merlin. “I have purified them already to the best of my abilities.”
“I can feel it,” Arto breathed, his eyes sliding closed. “It’s… it’s like a heartbeat in the stone.”
“It is the blood of this realm,” Merlin told Arto in a low and gentle voice. “It does not flow on the surface, but if you can make it take shape for you then you will have power over the Sídhe.”
“And this process will help me do that?” Arto questioned, glancing between Merlin and Cyrridven.
“I have observed mortals in other places use such a method,” Cyrridven replied gently. “But you have powers they do not. Arto, there is no need to fear.”
Swallowing, Arto nodded and set his hands on his thighs, breathing deeply and slowly. Morgana crouched down and moved closer just in time to see Arto's hands begin glowing a brilliant pure white as sparks of magic danced over his fingers. In a smooth motion, Arto reached out his hand, placing them over the large pile of stones.
Everything was still, the air thick and nobody breathing. The rocks shook and shuddered, moved by Arto's magic as the white sparks encircled them all. Spots on the rocks began to glow bright red and flickered to a dark metallic color. Pieces of the rocks began to crumble away as white sparks rushed over them, leaving glowing and pulsing stones of red and dark gray beh
ind which pulsed with magic. The cavern was aglow with white sparks which swirled around the stones like a dust devil, tossing away the dust and fragments of stone. The glowing pieces of red metal began to rise into the air, carried by the white sparks of magic. They twirled around each other, crashing together with sharp metallic sounds and bursts of heat that made them glow like molten bronze.
Crash after crash brought more of the pieces together, increasing the size of the molten orb hanging in the air. Narrowing her eyes, Morgana was nearly blinded even as the glowing white sparks of magic began to fade away. She heard Arto exhale as the last piece joined the glowing molten orb, the cave falling silent. Her brother's hand shook as he raised them and reached for the metal orb. Morgana began to open her mouth to shout a warning, but merely gasped as Arto's hand stopped just above the surface. He released a small hiss at the heat, but slowly drew his hand back and beckoned with his fingers. The molten material followed his hand, flowing forward through the air and shifting from an orb into a long glowing rod.
“Well done,” Merlin said, breaking the silence in the cavern. “The first step is complete.”
Arto nodded and stared at the rod as its glow began to fade, turning it from bright red to an ever darkening gray. No one moved until the rod had completely darkened and fell onto the animal skin with a hard muffled crash that resonated through the cavern. A laugh escaped Arto and he looked up at Merlin who chuckled as well. Slapping a hand on the boy's shoulder, Merlin shook his head and smiled warmly. He squeezed Arto's shoulder before releasing it and sitting down on his knees by the bellows.
Picking up the long strange rod, Arto joined Merlin by the fire and watched as the older man raised and lowered the bellow, building up the heat of the fire. Arto slid the long rod into the fire and it vanished beneath the charcoal and wood. Arto then walked over to the strange stone and the packet that Merlin had set next to it. From her position, Morgana couldn't properly see what was inside as Arto unwrapped it, but a moment later her brother raised a set of tongs and a bronze hammer. He placed the hammer on the flat stone and returned to the fire.
Reaching forward, Arto secured the rod with the tongs and drew it slowly from the flames. The tip of it was now glowing red hot. In a smooth movement, Arto carried it to the rock he had set up, picked up the hammer and set the strange rod on the stone. Morgana gazed on in confusion as her brother lifted the hammer above his head and took a deep breath. The hand holding the hammer began to glow with sparks of white magic once again. In seconds the white light had engulfed the hammer causing the metal to gleam.
Sparks flew as the hammer hit the rod with a metallic crash that echoed in the cavern. The light of the hot metal cast strange shapes over the walls as Arto moved to strike it again. Arto took deep breaths between swings, the glow of magic in his hand shifting into the hammer and then into the metal with each blow. He adjusted his grip with the tongs and struck again as the red hot glow of the metal began to fade. Without a word Arto turned and thrust the metal back into the fire. Merlin raised and lowered the bellows in a smooth practiced rhythm as Arto caught his breath and wiped sweat off his brow. There was silence as they waited and Morgana heard only the gentle crackling of the fire and the water lapping at the bank as Cyrridven moved closed.
Arto reclaimed the tongs, pulled out the metal and began again. Each crash of the hammer sent another pulse of Arto's soft white magic pouring into the metal which was slowly becoming longer and longer as his blows shaped it. Turning it, he swung again and again to force the metal into a narrower and flatter shape. After every few swings, he returned it to the fire as the heated glow vanished, but with each strike of the hammer the white glow was remaining longer and longer.
Stepping forward, Morgana was entranced by the smooth dance that kept Arto moving between the fire and the stone. Arto's hammer strikes slowed, becoming more and more deliberate as he flattened the metal into a long and narrow strip. It was when he turned it sideways and began to narrow down one end that Morgana realized what she was seeing.
“A sword,” she whispered as the tang quickly took shape.
Arto paused only to hold his hand over the length he had narrowed, checking for size of the hilt. Satisfied, Arto drove the metal back into the fire and breathed as it reheated, now carrying a soft white glow even away from the hammer. When Arto drew the metal forth once one, Merlin waved his hand to clear the air of the thickening smoke. Sliding down, Morgana leaned against the wall, her eyes fixed on Arto as he resumed hammering at the sword.
Time passed in a blur and the hammering became almost soothing to Morgana like a heartbeat as Arto switched to a different, smaller hammer and began to use softer blows to create the sharp edge of the blade. Merlin cleared the air every few rotations, but never had to place more wood on the fire. Cyrridven hovered at the edge of the water, watching the actions of Arto with interest, but never stepping onto the shore.
The sword was glowing white, shining light across the stone and illuminating Arto's work. Each blow, however soft, sent another pulse of magic into the metal. He worked his way up and down the sword, smoothing out the metal with gentle taps and bursts of magic. Panting softly, Arto returned the sword to the fire, set aside the hammer and reached for a water skin.
“I remember my first sword,” Arto said suddenly, breaking the long quiet. “You surprised me: I hadn't thought you'd ever let me try a sword.”
“You were clumsy with bronze,” Merlin replied with a chuckle, his eyes lingering on the glowing white metal.
“True,” Arto conceded with a shrug before taking another sip. “But when we opened that mold, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen,” Arto sighed, rolling his shoulders.
“And now?” Merlin questioned, looking up at the young man.
“I think this will take that position,” Arto murmured as he reached for the tongs.
“You are weary,” Cyrridven observed with a frown and a glance at Merlin.
“Yes,” Arto agreed with a nod, not stopping his movement towards the metal. “But I need to finish this.” His tone was strong and echoed through the cavern. Morgana shivered, there was something in his voice that was startling from such a young man.
Returning to the stone, Arto carefully laid out the blade which was red from tip to tip and pulsing with red and orange. Arto made no move to pick up the hammer and instead set his hands above the metal and breathed out. The white glow of the sword intensified. Slamming her eyes shut, Morgana turned her face away as a blinding light filled the cavern. It faded away in a moment, replaced by a warm pulsing white light from the sword on top of the stone. Arto was on his knees, panting and shaking. Morgana stumbled to her feet at the same time that Merlin rose from his position.
Sweeping forward, Merlin laid a gentle hand on Arto's head before he reached out and gripped the white blade. He turned quickly to Cyrridven and held it out to her. Taking it gingerly, Cyrridven pulled back from the edge and vanished with a swirl of water. Merlin then turned and knelt by Arto, shifting the boy to lean against him. Slowly, they moved away from the stone and Merlin helped him lay down on the now empty animal pelt.
Water erupted up from the surface of the pool with a long arm rising with the sword grasped tightly. The metal was gleaming as droplets of water rolled down the blade. Cyrridven's hand released the sword, leaving it floating just above the water as the droplets slowly solidified around the tang, forming a glistening white hilt, guard and pommel.
Rising from his place by Arto, Merlin reached out his hands and exhaled slowly. His hands glowed for only a moment before sparks encircled the sword, smoothing the metal and leaving the sharp edges gleaming. Morgana crept forward and was just able to make out the golden sparks moving up the blade, leaving smooth golden lines in the metal. The soft golden glow surrounded the sword, transforming the pommel and guard to a brilliant golden color before fading. Gasping, Merlin fell to his knees against the stone and struggled for breath. Cyrridven’s hand rose from the wate
r once again, taking hold of the hilt and sending a burst of water up over the sword.
Groaning, Arto rolled to his side as the droplets flowed down the long blade and hit the water with soft drips. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet, shaking with each step towards the water. Arto rested a hand on Merlin's shoulder as he leaned forward. His fingers tightened around the hilt as Cyrridven's hand turned to water and fell to the surface of the water. With care, Arto raised the sword and released a shaky breath over the blade which glowed white for a moment in response.
“Cathanáil,” Arto announced with a wide smile, turning and swiping the sword the air, laughing as it made a loud swish.
“Battle breath,” Merlin repeated as he climbed up from his knees. “It will do I suppose.”
“Excalibur,” a voice whispered from the water with a soft laugh.
“What did Cyrridven say?” Arto asked Merlin with a frown.
“I wouldn't worry about it,” Merlin told him, taking a shaky step forward as he struggled to catch his breath.
