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Tags: all the way to the western isles reel merlin fic
Published : 9 months, 4 weeks ago (Sat, 07 Mar 2009 20:46:11 PST)
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Title: All The Way To The Western Isles, 6/7
Author: ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) smokey
Film Prompt: Stardust (\o/)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Word count: ~25,000 (inorite?) - this part ~2,500
Summary: This spring, a star falls. The chase begins.
Author's Note: see part 1 for full AN and credit.
All The Way To The Western Isles, 6/7
Chapter Six
The Isle of the Blessed
***
Merlin paused at the Gate, the world silent and calm around him. He held onto one half of the wrought iron as he moved forwards, hand curling around the cold metal. The sky was covered in clouds on the other side.
“Stop!”
Merlin jumped as a voice shouted in his ear, then nearly yelped as a hand yanked him backwards and away from the Gate. He turned, hands raised and ready to fight, and blinked. The woman gripping his arm looked strangely familiar – shining blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a deep ruby dress. Her eyes were frantic, and she was tugging at Merlin’s arm.
“If you go through there, you’ll die,” she said urgently, and Merlin jumped as the door to the caravan behind her burst open with a tongue of dark flame. “If you set foot on human soil, you’ll turn to rock.”
Merlin suddenly had a hundred questions – who was she, what did she mean, how did she know – but he didn’t get a chance to ask her, as she was suddenly pulled backwards, golden chain wrapped around her ankle and anchoring her to the crippled man holding the other end. It was only then that Merlin recognised the caravan as being the same one that he and Arthur had hitched a lift in, and something dark and powerful began a slow burn in his stomach.
“Wretched slattern, where have you taken me?” Edwin roared, heaving the woman backwards, and she screamed as she fell to the ground.
They all looked up as the whinnying of approaching horses caught their attention, and turned to where a large black carriage pulled by three black horses, with no driver at the front. It screeched to a halt in front of them, and the carriage door swung open.
“Planning to cross the Gate, were you?” Nimueh drawled, and Merlin took a step back in fear as the woman in the red dress climbed to her feet. “If death is what you wish, my boy, I would be more than happy to assist you.”
“Are you talking to me?” Edwin growled, grabbing his slave by the arm and dragging her forward, and Nimueh’s face split into a cruel grin as she turned to him.
“Ah! You. Small world,” she replied smoothly, her eyes glinting. “And no, I wasn’t. I was talking to the star.”
“What star?” Edwin spat, face contorting as Nimueh gazed at Merlin. “My slave girl’s no star, any fool can see that. If she was, I would have had her heart out of her chest a long time ago, trust me.”
“Trust you?” Nimueh barked, the clouds over Ealdor rolling to cross the wall and into Albion. “Not a mistake I’m likely to make again. What’s it to be, Edwin Muirden? Heads, or tails?”
Edwin flung his arms up just in time as a burst of green flames shot towards him, bright and burning and all-consuming, thunder rumbling overhead. Surrounding him was a wall of dirty orange smoke, protecting him from the fire, but even as Merlin pulled the slave girl against the wall and covered her face, he knew that the sorcerer was no match for Nimueh.
There was a blast of magic, and Edwin’s head was sheared clean off.
Nimueh laughed as she watched the headless body stumble around for a few seconds, arms flailing and legs hobbling, until it fell to the ground and disappeared with a whoosh of green flames, leaving a suspicious burn mark on the ground.
The golden chain around the slave girl’s ankle shifted away, fading to a thin sliver on the grass.
“Time to go,” Nimueh said mildly, catching her breath as her laughing abated, and the woman stepped forward before Merlin could react.
“He’s not going anywhere!” she said hurriedly, and Merlin felt a wave of warmth towards this unknown woman even as Nimueh turned to fix them both with an icy glare.
“I think you’ll find he is,” she said nastily. “But it’s all right, you can come too.”
If Merlin hadn’t been so terrified, he probably would have groaned as a familiar, thin gold chain appeared from nowhere to wrap itself around their wrists, binding them together.
“You can ride in the carriage, or be dragged behind it,” Nimueh said in a low voice, opening the door and looking at them. “Your choice.”
***
Arthur burst from the wood in a flurry of twigs and leaves, nearly tripping again as he hurtled down the hill to the Gate. He could see the yellow caravan on the other side, sun shining brightly off it.
“What happened?” he asked breathlessly, skidding to a halt, and Anhora stared at him, gesturing to the Gate.
“Be my guest!” he said plaintively, clutching his chair and trying to move past Arthur. “I quit! Eighty years I’ve stopped you people crossing the Gate, what I should have been worrying about was those people from the other side…”
“Just tell me what happened!” Arthur shouted, looking around desperately for any side of Merlin.
“What happened? Oh, where to start…”
Arthur growled and pushed past him, leaping through the Gate and rushing around the caravan. He could hear Anhora mumbling to himself as he wandered off, and flung open the doors. The furnishings were strewn around in the back, and on the floor lay a single yellow mortaeus.
Five minutes later, the horse from the caravan thundered down the road with Arthur’s knuckles white on the reins as he bent low over the horse’s neck.
***
Valiant pulled his stallion to a halt beside the Gate. He took in the horseless caravan, the burn mark where Edwin’s body had been, the track marks in the mud.
He kicked his heels into his horse’s flanks.
***
Merlin blinked as the door to the carriage was flung open and light shone in brightly, momentarily blinding him after the relative darkness inside. The slave woman’s grip on him tightened as they clambered from their seats, Nimueh tugging on the chain.
There was a low mist hanging all around, and the air was chill and damp. They had stopped right at the edge of the forest, and the muddied road led down to water – Merlin wasn’t sure if it was a lake or a sea or a river, because the fog prevented vision beyond a few metres. There was a small jetty stretching out into the water and tied to it, a small boat.
Merlin held onto the slave woman’s hand as they were pulled onto it, and held her upright as the boat jerked with a whisper from Nimueh and began to move across the water.
So this was it, Merlin thought with a pang of despair as the bell on the front of the boat clanged monotonously. After his great adventure with Arthur, this was how it was going to end – having his heart cut out and eaten by a witch, whilst Arthur lived a happy life with his Sophia. He held back a sob as he clutched at his necklace, and leaned into the slave girl’s embrace.
After five minutes of the steady swaying and thick fog, Nimueh raised her arms and the mist parted, swept aside as is nothing more than dust. The water, it turned out was a lake that was set in the hollow of a group of high mountains – and in the centre of the life, an island covered with the ruins of what might have been a beautiful temple, in its day. Now, it’s just lumps of rock.
They docked where the banks sloped down into the lake, mist coiling around their ankles as they walked. There was something about the whole place that made Merlin uneasy – it was dark, wordless, and old. He stumbled as they climbed a long flight of slippery stone steps.
“The star!”
A young man appeared at the top of the stairs, all dark hair and green eyes and strong, lean limbs.
“Yes, the star,” Nimueh answered indulgently, reaching the top and pushing Merlin and the slave woman ahead of her. “And a new slave. It’ll be nice to have someone to help clean up when we’re finished with our little guest.”
Mordred grinned, a dark and twisted grin, and with a click of his fingers the golden chain holding them together snapped in two.
***
Arthur bent low, chest pressed against the neck of his horse, urging the old mare faster through the forest.
***
Merlin stopped trying to struggle as Nimueh led him over to a large stone altar in the centre of what could have been a great hall, many years ago. The stone top was cracked and pitted, and he winced as he was pushed onto it.
He winced as leather straps were tightened over his stomach, legs and chest, and Mordred smiled down at him with a glint in his eye.
***
Arthur crouched down outside the window, keeping pressed into the shadows as he peered through the filthy glass. He could see Nimueh, and a young man moving around. He could see Merlin, the flash of his pale skin as he was manhandled across the room and something hot flared in his chest.
He started as a knife landed on his neck, pressing in against his skin, and turned his head slowly to the side. A man with dark hair and a dangerous expression on his face glared at him.
“Who are you?” the man asked harshly, and Arthur glanced down at the hand holding the dagger to his throat. Inked onto the skin was a large ‘V’.
“Valiant,” he said, voice sure, and the man’s eyes narrowed. “I knew your fellow, Pellinore.”
An ugly look passed over Valiant’s face and he took a step forward.
“Unless you wish to meet him in the afterlife, I suggest you answer my question. What are you doing here?” he snarled, and Arthur smirked at him.
“I might ask you the same thing.”
Valiant blinked, and slowly looked down at the knife that Arthur had pressed against his ribs. He grunted, and they both released. The knight turned to look through the window.
“There are four of them,” he muttered, watching as Nimueh spoke to a woman that Arthur hadn’t noticed before. “Do as I say and we may stand a chance.”
“Wait,” Arthur interrupted, grabbing the knight by the arm. “How do I know you can be trusted?”
“You don’t. Why? Do you have a choice?”
“No.”
“Well then. Let’s go.”
Valiant whirled and leapt up the stairs with impressive vigour, and Arthur had no choice but to follow him, staying hidden. His eyes were drawn to where Merlin lay on the huge stone altar, but Valiant had other ideas as he grabbed the slave woman, grabbing her around the waist.
“Get off me!” she cried, kicking back, and he threw her against the nearest column.
Valiant froze as she pulled her hair from her face, and with a gasp, fell to his knees.
“Your highness,” he murmured, and her face softened, blond hair shining even in the poor light filtering through the mist, and Arthur could have sworn that he knew her.
“Valiant.”
The knight looked up at her with awestruck eyes, but was thrown away as Mordred sent a blast of fire into him. He flew across to hit a crumbled wall, falling to the floor in a heap, and Igraine pushed herself away from the column and ran straight into Arthur, pushing down his arms as he raised his sword to her.
“Arthur! No, Arthur, no! I’m your… I’m… I’m your mother,” she gasped out, eyes bright and wild, and grabbed at his arms as he dropped his sword onto the grass. He stared at her as she searched his face.
“I’m your mother.”
When he pulled her into his arms, holding her close and breathing her in, it was like something had slotted into place, and Arthur closed his eyes – only to open them again as he heard Valiant crying out in pain.
He released Igraine and peered over the rocks as Valiant launched himself at Mordred, sword flashing in the miserable light as Nimueh’s apprentice parried with magic, every now and then blasting Valiant back with a burst of flames. Valiant was tiring – Arthur could see it in the lines of his face as he was thrown back several metres, stumbled and nearly tripping just feet away from where he was hidden with his mother.
“Throw it,” Arthur hissed, and Valiant blinked at him with incomprehension. “Throw your damned sword!”
Sudden realisation dawned upon Valiant’s face, and he turned in one fluid movement to hurl his sword through the air. It span a few times, the faint sun shining off its bright edge, before it shot into Mordred’s chest with a schlik. Mordred stared down at it for a moment before looking up at Nimueh, a slow smile creeping across his face as his eyes rolled up into his head and he crumpled on the grass.
Valiant crossed the grass with a grim determination set in his face, and Nimueh looked up from where she was standing over Merlin’s bound body. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head.
Valiant froze where he was walking and dropped his sword, hands flying up to scrabble at his throat as an imaginary rope wrapped around it, pulling tighter and cutting off is air. Nimueh’s face split into a grin, her eyes dark and amused, and she flicked her hand.
He collapsed on the floor, dead.
Arthur ran up the few remaining steps and emerged onto the expanse of grass at the same time that Nimueh stalked over to Mordred, banding over him. Arthur headed straight for Merlin and the star’s face broke into a smile. Nimueh glanced up at Merlin, then back up at Arthur, and a slow realisation filled her eyes.
She stood slowly, her face darkened and her hands bloodied where she had pressed them against Mordred’s chest, seeing if she could somehow revive him. Arthur grabbed at Merlin’s hand with one of his as she approached, raising his sword in the other. It was trembling.
“So what’s it to be, Prince Charming?” Nimueh asks with a silvery laugh, shuffling forward as her ageing body slowly began to fail her. “Frog, or tadpole?”
She raised her hand and pointed her finger and now-familiar green magic burst from the end of it, an enormous swathe that gushed around him. But it didn’t touch him, though she tried several more times – there was a barrier there, somehow, preventing her magic from even brushing against his skin.
Arthur released Merlin’s hand for long enough to pull the mortaeus from his jacket pocket, smiling slightly, and Nimueh’s face contorted into an ugly snarl, and she tilted her head to one side.
One of the red shards of glass from the flat rock beside the altar flew through the air to smack into her hand and in the blink of an eye, she had crossed the grass and appeared before them. Arthur stumbled away from her and backwards into the altar, and felt Merlin’s hand twist to grab his, and a hot, sharp burst of fear shot up his spine.
Nimueh glanced briefly at Mordred before turning back to Merlin and Arthur, and raised the red knife high above her head.
She brought it down hard, blade singing through the air, and Arthur flung himself over Merlin’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut.
***
onto part 7... |
