|Posted on November 19, 2010 at 11:55 PM|
I am Merlin and I stand on the lands of my ancestors. Neither sunshine nor moonglow fall on the fields and fens of Annwfn, no breeze stirs ancient forests twisted by time, no rainfall disturbs air ancient as stone and laden with secrets. Only the mist, grey and formless separates the sky from the land. I come to lay rest to the king, my student and my friend, Arthur. The Knights bear the body up the rocky shoal, I have led the way to this sacred place and now I stand by and watch the procession pass. The men eye me with fear and hatred. I am unwelcome now that Arthur has passed, unwelcome because I stood by and did nothing, unwelcome because I let the King fall. None of them understand that if Arthur had lived on the lessons of Camyladd would be lost forever.
I am Merlin: bard, seer, sorcerer. I walk to the edge of the shore where waves lap over the grey stone and hurl the sword Excalipyrne into the water. A hand clad in white samite catches the singing blade from the air and, as ‘that which rises out of a cup of fire’ slips beneath the waves I vanish, disappearing from Avalon forever.
I am Merlin Emrys, and this tale is mine to tell. I will tell it because no one else can tell it in its entirety and because only I can show you how and why Arthur was slain. Because only I can gather all the threads with which to weave this tapestry of souls, swords and magic and because only I can pluck the threads and make them sing like the strings of the lute; because that is the gift which my kin, the fey, have granted me.
I am Merlin-the Immortal- and here begins my tale.
Categories: Short Stories