by J. M. Briggs
His own magic resisted the transformation into water more than Morgana’s, but he finally managed enough water to splash out a few of the fires. Around them, the survivors were rushing about with jars of water to put out the flames and salvaging what they could. The walls of the village were all but gone with people vanishing into the night with tears and cries of sorrow. It was all too familiar.
Merlin caught sight of Bran tending to a wounded woman and directing the efforts to put out the fires. He felt a small burst of pride in his chest at the realization that the young man had not just taken off. Gofiben at least had Cathanáil to help him fight: it seemed that somehow the sword knew its own power and could pull on the power of the Iron Soul even if the Iron Soul was not yet trained. But Bran had not had any such advantage, and despite the horror of the situation around him, Merlin gave a satisfied nod.
He busied himself with his magic to put out the fires and caught sight of Morgana kneeling next to an injured child with glowing hands. He frowned and told himself to remind her to be cautious with healing. They could not afford to lose her to a mistake. Still, he smiled indulgently at the sight of Morgana speaking with the frightened little thing until a crying woman rushed over and swept the girl into her arms. As the fires were extinguished those that had fled began to trickle back into the village with shocked and pained expressions.
Merlin turned and began to head towards Gofiben, noting that Bran was gone. It only took him a few moments to find the young men together near Gofiben’s roundhouse. Bran stepped up next to Gofiben and said something to him in a voice that Merlin couldn’t hear. The young smith was shaking and it was only his brother’s hand on his shoulder that was keeping him steady. Merlin paused to give them a moment as Bran hugged his friend and spoke to Galath. Morgana did not wait and swept up to them with her cloak flaring behind her. Shaking his head, Merlin joined them at the entrance to Gofiben’s roundhouse which was one of the few unharmed by the attack.
“Was that?” Bran turned to look at Merlin and Morgana, his eyes wide. “Was that-”
“Yes,” Morgana informed him with a nod as she wiped the sweat from her brow with an unscorched corner of her cloak. “That was Badb, the Old One that attacked us a few days ago.”
“She wanted that sword,” Galath observed with a frown as he pointed towards the blade in Gofiben’s hand with a hesitant look. “Is that Cathaburn?”
“Cathanáil,” Merlin corrected. There was a rush of irritation in his chest. How quickly people forgot; but he recovered quickly. “Yes, she wants the sword for some reason.”
“And you can’t give it to her,” Galath clarified with a worried look at his brother’s face.
Gofiben was still holding the sword with both hands on the hilt and looking at the polished surface of the metal with a look of awe. He didn’t seem to notice them, and Merlin wondered if it was the smith or the Iron Soul that was captivated by the blade. The pulse of magic was receding, but Merlin couldn’t help but think that Cathanáil looked a little brighter now.
“And you want my brother to fight her.” Galath stepped protectively between Gofiben and Morgana.
Merlin expected anger from Morgana; a sharp outburst of anger, but instead she looked at Galath with soft understanding eyes. Then her gaze shifted to Merlin as she waited to see what he would do. Swallowing, Merlin stood there in silence trying to organize his thoughts. There had been no time to process Cyrridven’s revelation of Gofiben’s true nature. The boy was a young man, not a child that he could raise for his great responsibly. And the way Morgana was looking at him… he could see her as a conflicted young woman as he took her brother away after the Sídhe attack. She’d betrayed him to the Sídhe, but even then she’d loved Arto, and now she was in the same position he had been then.
“It’s alright Galath,” Gofiben announced. He sounded calm as he set one hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Look around brother.” The boy’s expression was mournful as he nodded at the carnage around them. “This can’t… I can’t just let this go on. She’ll come back if I just stay here.”
“Yes,” Merlin agreed. He felt a twinge of guilt for putting so much on the young man. “She will.”
Gofiben released a long breath and swallowed thickly as his gaze dropped to the blade in his hand. “And you don’t know why she wants the sword so badly?”
“We do not,” Morgana agreed with a nod and a softer expression. “But there is power in the blade; you have not been trained, and yet with the sword, you were able to cancel out Badb’s magic.”
“Any chance that will dissuade her?” Galath asked. He was still standing protectively by his brother.
“Doubtful,” Merlin said. He shook his head gently, wishing once more that he had his staff to lean on. “I’m afraid that she has decided it is time for another war.”
16
Fog of Myth
Eyes widening at Morgana’s statement, Alex waited impatiently for her to say something more about Bran, but instead, the professor looked mildly confused. Alex supposed that she was trying to organize her thoughts to explain, but Alex found it difficult to wait.
“Was he based on a real person?” Alex asked. She fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair. “Someone you knew?”
“Bran was a rather gifted young mage who grew up with Gofiben,” Morgana explained. “While his magic took the form of power over plants, he also had visions similar to the Bran you know.”
“And that doesn’t strike you as strange?” Alex asked only to have Morgana chuckle.
The ancient mage brushed a strand of her long dark hair behind her ear and regarded Alex with warm green eyes. “You are not the first Alex that I have known. There have been many Alexanders, a few Alexandras, a couple other Alexandrias and even an Aleksander or two. Names don’t have the power that you think and Bran is a shortened form of Brandon. It didn’t seem that important in the grand scheme of things. I’m three thousand years old; I’m a bit past jumping to conclusions and chasing every ghost that I think I see.”
“Okay… so what happened to Bran, the ancient one then?”
“He died in the final confrontation with the Old One Badb’s forces,” Morgana informed her gently, watching Alex’s face carefully. “Merlin and I had been…. lured away, leaving Bran and Gofiben facing off against Badb. I don’t know much about how everything happened as both Gofiben and Bran died that day.” Morgana paused as guilt flashed in her eyes for a moment. “Merlin and I returned after some time, and Galath wasn’t interested in telling us what had happened.”
“What happened to lure you away?” Alex tried to ignore the slightly sick feeling in her chest. “Why did you leave them alone?”
“We were retrieving Cathanáil from Badb,” Morgana replied. “She was, unfortunately, able to take the sword and use it to a limited extent. That is why we gave Cathanáil to Cyrridven once it was all over. We had to accept that she could hide the sword’s power and keep it safer than we ever could.” Morgana shook her head sadly. “Believe me, Merlin and I were distressed to learn that our students had been killed. We’d had very little time with them and they were good men.”
“But Bran… our Bran, there’s so many little things. Didn’t you ever think, I mean didn’t you ever wonder during the last year and a half? Even Jenny noticed the strong connection between Bran and the myth; Jenny! Why didn’t you tell us about Bran the Blessed?”
“Alex, please keep in mind that the myths and legends that you children can read up on are merely those that have survived. People die, people forget, and people make things up. Stories change especially stories that are passed down orally. After Merlin and I found out about Gofiben’s death we tried to find out what happened, we did, but there were already different stories circulating. Rumors that would later turn into different variations on what would become a myth.” Morgana rubbed her eyes and said. “And to be honest your former brother Galath was of no help. He blamed Merlin and I for Gofiben’s death, and while he did tell us about th
e Iron Chalice, he refused to ever reveal its location to us.”
“My brother,” Alex repeated weakly.
“At this point, Merlin and I have been exposed to hundreds of tales about Bran and Gofiben. If you think there are too many different versions of fairy tales from the Middle Ages, then imagine how many different rumors Merlin and I heard about what happened to the Chalice, Bran, and Gofiben.”
“I suppose but-”
Morgana shook her head and gave Alex a pointed look. “We don't tell you those stories because they are meaningless to us, and if we told you one then we'd be reciting stories to you for days on end, days that, I will remind you, we have never had the luxury of. Remember Alex that most of human history is lost to us; it precedes writing and all oral traditions. Myths and legends are the scraps of human stories and experiences in the past that survive. You cannot count on receiving truth from them.” Morgana chuckled and her gaze softened. “It’s a bit like history.”
Alex hummed to herself but didn’t disagree with Morgana’s statement, as much as she hated to acknowledge the point. Morgana was watching her with an amused little look but pressed her lips together thoughtfully a few moments later. “That being said, perhaps looking at the myth has something to it. I never put much stock in the idea that Galath cut off Bran’s head and buried it somewhere, but your Bran’s vision seems to suggest that it is what happened. It seems odd, but perhaps under the right circumstances he might have been convinced that it would help.”
“Could… well, scrying for the Chalice doesn’t work, but maybe you could scry for Bran’s head, the ancient Bran’s head. If you know who it is, could that help find the Chalice?”
The look Morgana gave her was strange even by Alex’s standards. It was a look of almost horrified consideration as the older woman tilted her head slightly. “An interesting thought,” Morgana agreed slowly. “I’ll certainly try it, but I’m not sure what the magic would have to latch onto. Since the head was buried underground there might be enough DNA left that the magic could still recognize it as Bran, but I’ve never scryed for a dead body before.”
“But you’ll try?” Alex pressed nervously. “I’m afraid that despite looking at the Bran the Blessed story we still don’t have a location to go on. The only real other thing that we’re looking at is the potential link between Bran the Blessed and the Fisher King.”
“The Fisher King?” Morgana laughed. “Really Alex, you’re looking at the myth of Bran and the Fisher…” Morgana trailed off as her eyes widened and her face went a little pale. It was all Alex could do to keep from smirking as the professor got it. “Bran… Fisher…”
“Like I said, Jenny brought up the connection. Do you think it means anything?”
“I…” Morgana shook her head, her eyes still wide and shocked. “I don’t know Alex. Part of me knows that trying to find meaning is dangerous; it’ll have you jumping at everything, but then again… it is a bit much isn’t it.”
“Morgana?” Alex hoped that the professor wasn’t too swept away by the overwhelming oddness of the situation. At the sound of her name Morgana’s eyes cleared and she looked back at the laptop screen with small hum. “Is magic… I don’t know, sentient?”
“Oh…. That question….” Morgana paused and licked her lips. “I don’t know Alex, not for certain, and not to what extent. Somehow the Iron Soul was created… something in the Sídhe invasion, in the Queen’s plans, triggered the creation of your soul and your unmatched connection to the Iron Realm. Somehow Cyrridven became trusted by that same magic despite not being of our world. I’ve never been inclined to believe in any gods: I wasn’t raised in that sort of a culture, but I was raised to believe that power had a flow to it and that everything had a place.”
“So you don’t really know?”
“No, I don’t,” Morgana replied. “There are many things I don’t know Alex. Merlin and I are three thousand years old and we don’t fully understand what a soul is, but we’ve observed Jenny and Lance coming back time and time again. We don’t really know how the Iron Soul was created, but here you are. We know there are other worlds, but Merlin has never left this one and I haven’t left since I was made a Changeling. I don’t have a good answer for you, Alex.” Morgana paused for a moment. “And if there is something intelligent behind all of this; some force pushing things into place, keep in mind that it might not be the same force that grants us magic and created your soul. Don’t assume anything.”
Alex heard a knock on the door that made her instantly go silent. Morgana raised a hand at the screen and looked away from Alex. “Who is it?” Morgana called, and a moment later Alex heard a muffled voice call back something she couldn’t make out. “It’s Ambrose; stay quiet Alex or else he may demand your location.” Morgana informed her with a slight chuckle before calling back, “Come in Ambrose.”
“Is that a good idea?” Alex whispered to Morgana, unable to ignore the sudden nervous knot forming in her stomach. She liked Merlin, but they hadn’t really spoken since Arthur had stabbed her and this mess had begun. “Didn’t you say-”
“Hello Ambrose,” Morgana greeted, ignoring Alex and looking past the laptop screen. “How was the hospital?”
“Fine. Aiden isn’t doing any better, but there hasn’t been any magical interference from the Queen or that bastard.”
“I doubt the Pendreds will put their efforts into killing Aiden at this point.” Morgana’s expression was too calm, but Alex stayed silence. “They seem to be directing their efforts in another direction.”
“Indeed, I haven’t had any luck with contacting Shiva. I’m not sure if he’s awake right now or not.”
“That’s unfortunate; we don’t have many allies amongst the Old Ones. What about Sif?”
“Nothing. I’m not even sure how to contact her or Odin. The Norse that are awake are rather content to blend in with humans whenever possible.” Merlin sighed loudly and then gave a strained chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re working on next term already.”
“I was working on researching Elaine Pendred if you must know,” Morgana said. “She has a full history including medical records from before Arthur’s birth, though since then she hasn’t been to see a doctor. Her husband passed away shortly before Arthur was born in a car crash, though I wonder if it was an accident.”
“How much of this do you think is true?” Merlin asked, and Alex heard the shuffling of papers.
“Difficult to say, but I am inclined to believe that Elaine Pendred was a real person once. Perhaps some form of possession is at play here; Scáthbás’ body was destroyed, but she…”
“She was against the forming Iron Gate when you killed her.” There was a hint of disapproval in Merlin’s voice. “Terrible to think that she survived in any form through Arto’s magic.”
“It is just a theory, but Medraut was there as well. Perhaps she captured his soul and when she escaped she took over a pregnant woman in order to bring Medraut back to life.” Morgana’s fingers toyed with her pendant.
“How did she know that Elaine’s child would be a mage?” Merlin questioned. “I think the boy may be a hybrid now like us, but to keep the charade of him being the Iron Soul going it would be important that he have some sort of link to the Iron Realm.”
“But then we’re back to the problem of how could he use magic,” Morgana agreed with a nod. Then a sad sigh escaped her. “I lost the ability to use my powers as a young woman when I was conflicted.”
“Indeed: it is a puzzle, but that is not why I’m here,” Merlin said. Alex heard the sound of a chair moving. “Have you been in contact with Alex?”
“She’s checked in occasionally to let me know that she is safe.”
“I still disapprove of you letting Alex leave Ravenslake.” Alex could hear him pacing. “If she’d merely returned to Spokane then one of us could have stayed close in case of trouble, but sending her after the Iron Chalice-”
“Save your breath Merlin, I didn’t apologize yesterd
ay and I won’t be apologizing today. Alex isn’t alone, she has Bran and Nicki with her.”
“And Jenny and Lance.”
“Where is your optimism, Merlin?” Morgana teased with a hint of bite in her voice. “They betrayed Arthur already, and Alex knows who they are. I do believe that we dodged the metaphorical bullet this time; it seems you were right to be optimistic at the start of last year.”
“They betrayed the person we thought was Arthur, who used them as part of his grand show. I do feel sorry for Jenny having been manipulated for so long in order to help that little bastard with his deception, but they could still-”
