Merlyn's Only Hope

The Dragon's Call P2

Merlyn strode into the physician's chambers filled with a sense of relief. She'd expected to be spending the night in the dungeons after almost embedding her knife in a knight's head, but apparently the rules were different from Ealdor. Changing into a long tunic, she collapsed onto the hard bed, staring blankly at the chipped cream paint, missing her home.

"Merlyn."

Her eyes snapped open. She'd been drifting off as she'd heard the voice, a sound coming from the very depths of the castle. Perhaps she was imagining it, dreaming of the mystical.

"Merlyn."

There was no denying the sound now. Quickly dressing, she decided that if this mystery noise had the audacity to interrupt her sleep, it must be for good reason. Tiptoeing out of her room so not to disturb Gaius, stumbling over a stray bucket as she did so, she walked through the empty corridors, trying to stick to the shadows and avoid any guards. As quietly as she could muster, she descended the stairs, following the voice to a guarded gateway. She watched the, clearly rather drunken, guards playing some sort of game with dice. As one of the men rolled, her eyes flashed gold, causing the dice to fall onto the floor. As one of the men went to retrieve it, a flicker of gold made them travel further, into a neighbouring corridor and out of sight.

This time, both of the knights went to follow them. Merlyn, for one, was actually quite disappointed at how easy it was to fool them; she was amazed at how she had lived in fear of the ominous Camelot warriors when here they were, tricked by the weakest form of magic.

Through the gateway, she found some stairs leading even further into the deep belly of the castle. Lighting the torch with a thought, she hurriedly clambered down the steps, finding herself on a small platform overseeing a large cave.

It was oddly beautiful, the stalagmites glistening in the torch's faint reddish glow. She felt something in her magic stir, not something sinister, but different.

"Merlyn."

"Where are you?" she called, not particularly expecting a reply. It was then that she heard the beating of wings, much louder than those of any birds she knew of, heightening her curiosity.

Conjuring some much brighter light, it was certainly a surprise to see the golden eyes of a dragon looking back at her. His scales, matched his eyes, the richness astonishing, and yet, somewhat menacing. There was a sense of danger that lurked in his features, the stench of death around his sharpened talons, juxtaposed only by the wise look in his eyes.

"How small you are for such a big destiny." he examined her, staring down as if she were a disappointment. Merlyn felt mildly offended: she was actually quite tall for a woman.

"What? Wh-why? What destiny?" she asked, her voice cracking as she stared at the large, magical beast. There was nothing special about her, or at least, nothing extraordinary enough to warrant a destiny.

"Your gift Merlyn, was given to you for a reason." the dragon said wisely, as if it explained everything.

It took all that she had for the witch not to roll her eyes in annoyance at the monstrous being. "But, why? What reason?" she questioned, already mildly annoyed at the dragon's vagueness.

"Arthur is the one and future king who will reunite the land of Albion." His voice echoed through the cave, omnipotent in the darkness.

"Arthur? But I don't even know who that is. How am I meant to help someone I haven't even met?"

The dragon chuckled, its booming voice echoing off of the cave's walls. "But you have met him Merlyn. You have already had your first encounter with the man who will undo all his father's wrongs."