Merlin: Dawn of the Dragonlord

Chapter 22: Farewell

Chapter 22: Farewell

“Lady Helen?  The Afanc?”

“Saved your life.”

“Lancelot already told me about the Griffin and the Cup of Life.  What else?”

Merlin raked his brain, but already he was growing tired of that game.  He needed to pack for the journey back to Camelot.  He also had many words of farewell to give.  He had barely spoken with Lord Brunor – King Brunor, he corrected himself – ever since the battle with the terrible Shadow.  He had not heard from Galahad either.  Somehow he knew that the dark magic had been lifted, otherwise he would be lying in bed, sick from falling in the water.  But the Gaius part of him was still longing anxiously for some kind of confirmation.  

On the whole, he was feeling a lot better than he had in a long while.  After months of hunting evil creatures after dark, a night’s sleep had felt like a blessing even though it had been short one.  The death of the King and the prospect of returning to Camelot had woken him early in the morning and he had spent possibly a few hours sitting in his bed, thinking.  The tiredness and soreness were almost gone now, though he wasn’t sure that he was fully recovered from falling into the cursed water.  His magic was no longer a secret and Arthur seemed to have accepted it, which ought to make him happy, yet he was feeling the weight of another burden, another secret that he was bringing with him to Camelot.  He was the last of the House of Brittanicus, a noble family, but he would have to pretend to be a servant once more.  And on top of everything, Arthur’s constant questioning was getting on his nerves.     

Merlin had honestly imagined that he would find some peace and quiet at the stables, but it seemed he hadn’t.

“Edwin the physician with his so-called remedy to cure all ills, what do you have to say about him?” said the prince, continuing with his inquiries.  

“He was actually trying to kill your father by putting bugs in his ears.  Bit frightening, that was,” Merlin said absent-mindedly as he was folding a blanket and adding it to his horse’s satchel.

He had always liked these stables.  They were much less impressive than the ones in Camelot, but the air felt less contained and the smell was much more bearable.  He could tell that the animals were comfortable there.  Upon his arrival in Aria’s Cradle, he had been given a brown horse that was slow, old and insignificant.  But the one that he was most fond of was a grey stallion called Nuada which he technically was not allowed to ride.  Only Galahad knew how often Merlin had taken Nuada through the Valley and beyond.  There was a strange connection between them.  Sometimes he almost felt as though the horse knew where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do.  He had even imagined that he could hear it whisper, but that was just his imagination.

Right now, the horse was stamping the ground and shaking its mane of long grey hair.  

Sorry, my friend, Merlin thought bitterly as he pulled the straps on the saddle of the brown horse whose name he could not even recall.  I can’t take you with me, Nuada.  They will not allow it.  Besides you’d hate it in Camelot.  Risking your life every day.  It’s not a kind of life I’d pick for anyone.  Here it’s better for you.

Arthur was utterly undisturbed by the deep thoughts that Merlin was having.  

“What about Lady Sophia?” the prince burst out loudly, which made a few of the horses neigh nervously.  “You didn’t really hit me on the head to bring me back.  I have never believed that.”