Lost in Phantasm (Merlin Fanfiction)

Part 9: "Meet The Wizard"

Garrgan bowed low as he shoved Arthur through the door. "And the reward, O Mighty Wizard?"

"Your reward awaitsss you when you return to the gate," the Wizard sighed. "Sssend the uneekerrn withhh my sserrvannt. Leeeve mmeee!"

Heavy footfalls caused them to turn. A twenty-foot tall cyclops planted itself at the end of the hall and held out its hand for the unicorn. One of the trolls led it hobbling forward. The cyclops did not bother with the tether, but lifted the animal bodily and bore it screaming away. The trolls walked slowly, leaving Arthur in the hallway with a disembodied voice and tanks full of mermaids.

He looked around, ready to do battle.

"Show yourself!" he commanded the wizard.

The high-pitched, inebriated cackle echoed all over the hall.

"Coom inn, my ffriennd," the voice slurred, "I'm waaaiting jusst inssiiide."

Arthur proceeded slowly. He entered a large, round room, surrounded by the blue tanks of water and mermaids. Round windows at the top lit the room pleasantly. Seated at a small table in the middle of the room was a young man, possibly no older than Arthur himself. He was neatly dressed in trousers and a tunic. He grinned at Arthur.

"Sssooo," the slow, creaking voice spoke again, seeming to come from the young man at the table, "we meet, audacious traveler." The man's head lolled from side to side as he spoke, and he gestured to the other side of the table. "Come, you must be tired. There is a seat for you."

As he pointed, a flagstone in the floor shifted, and a cushioned stool emerged from some hidden crevice. Arthur's skin tingled as he stepped forward and cautiously rested his weight on the stool. He looked down. The floor did not appear disturbed in the least. When he looked up again, the man had produced two cups and a teapot out of thin air, and he was pouring some of the steaming dark liquid into the cup meant for Arthur.

Arthur blinked and pointed. "How did you—" he was so puzzled he could not even finish the question.

The man cackled, a thin, reedy sound for one who appeared in the peak of health. Sitting closer to him, Arthur could see that the man's eyes rolled in his head, and they seemed strangely emaciated.

"Magic!" he shrieked, "I am the Wizard, after all!" He laughed like it was some fantastic joke.

Arthur sniffed his tea warily. It smelled sweet. Arthur took a sip. It tasted wonderful. He smiled.

"You like it?" The man's voice was more mellow now, fuller and younger, not so strained.

Arthur sipped again, "It's quite good," he set the cup down. "I don't think I've tasted its like."

"Of course you haven't." The man's accent, Arthur decided, was very Northern, not much refined. "It's a flower native to Phantasm, called honest."

Arthur mulled this over in his mind. "Honest tea," he muttered, and giggled at the pun.

The Wizard chuckled too. "I'm Pierson, by the way. What's your name?"

Arthur shook his hand. "My name is Arthur," he said. Pierson struck him as perhaps a merely misunderstood recluse, not an evil wizard!

"Tell me, Arthur, how did you come to Phantasm?"

"I came with my servant; his name's Merlin and he follows me everywhere. We were chasing a thief that had stolen a jewel and some gold, and we caught him, but before we could bring him back to the castle, we found ourselves here. We were caught by some goblins and Merlin was carried away by a gryphon, and I found some dwarves and they sold me to some trolls and—"

Arthur's words had grown faster and faster, and when Pierson halted him with a gesture, Arthur's next thought centered on the soothing beverage in front of him. He took another gulp.

"You said there was a jewel," At last, Pierson's voice matched his age, but his eyes had not lost their rolling, glassy look. Pierson produced the gyth and laid it on the table. "Would this happen to be it, laddie?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, that's it; and my name's not Laddie, it's Arthur."

"Ah, yes; forgive me, Arthur. Now, what about the other piece?"

Arthur reached the bottom of his cup and frowned. "Other piece? No, I think that was it. Say, this tea is quite possibly the best drink I ever—"

Pierson finally lost his nerve and swore. His accent came thick as he leaned over the table. "Daen't toy with me, boy! Ye cannae ha' crossed the por'al withoot both pieces noo, whar is the bloody Chain?"

Arthur did not seem fazed in the least. "Oh, well if that's the case," he jabbered on, "Merlin must have it."

Pierson blinked. A slow smile slithered across his face. "And y'say Merlin follows ye everywhar ye go?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "Absolutely! Especially when he thinks I'm in danger. It's dreadfully annoying sometimes." Finally, he grew very pensive. He looked Pierson straight in the eye. "Can I have another cup?" he asked innocently.

The veins in Pierson's neck bulged. He kept his voice low. "Ye kin have the whole pot," he snarled. "Jist ye sit right there whilst I—get somethin'."

"I'll be here when you get back!" Arthur hollered after him.

In a private room down the hall, Pierson hauled open the door of his cabinet. One hundred years...one hundred stupid, wasted years! He uncorked a fresh flask of venim liquor and guzzled the contents. He felt the preserving effects freezing every last cell in his body in its current state. One hundred years of searching, of never changing, of never tiring, always searching—

And in a single day, both halves of ultimate power would simply walk through his front door. Pierson laughed to himself. The irony was just too comical.