Meurig reaches Gawain first, kneeling to his limp form on the ground. Nimue catches up swiftly, arriving just after Meurig. Gawain is unconscious, but Meurig reaches into his pouch for a sprig the smell of which immediately returns Gawain to the land of waking life.

Gawain screams out in pain. His leg feels like it is being broken on the wheel. Though it retains its former appearance, with the addition of some swelling, the pain is immense. The force of Nimue's spell on the hillside had knocked him unconscious before breaking his leg, and so his primary experience of the injury had been waking up in his room, tied to the bed. By then both Meurig and Nimue had administered their healing and painkilling spells and potions. But this - this is very different. The pain is acute and unrelenting.

He starts to writhe, reaching down for the leg, but Meurig holds him down with soothing words that nevertheless do not soothe. Nimue kneels beside Meurig and places her hands on Gawain's abdomen and chest. Then she puts her ear to his heart, listens for several beats, and nods to herself.

'This will hurt,' she says, without further comment, and takes his leg in two places, one above and one below the knee, and twists.

The pain is so great that his vision goes white, and mercifully he is ushered back into the gentle dark.

When Gawain wakes, Meurig is watching over him, and he has rolled a blanket to place under Gawain's head. Nimue circles the body of the creature, which has already started to decay. Gawain cannot see what she does, but he catches glimpses of her sprinkling a powder around the corpse, humming and making warding signs across her face and chest. She is almost done with the working of the spell, apparently, because when she completes the circle around the corpse she returns to its split head, touches the horn on the nose, and the entire corpse starts to crumble into a black foul-smelling dust. Nimue raises her hand and pushes forward, creating a current that carries the dust away from them and back into the forest.

Approaching Gawain and Meurig, she says: 'I am sorry, Gawain. The last spell came at a cost. It took away the pain in your leg temporarily and fortified your strength so that you could kill that abomination. This will set the healing process back some, but not much. Besides, there was no choice, because without my intervention you would certainly have been killed or worse.'

Gawain considers asking her what the worse thing is that it could have done, but reconsiders. He does not want to add dread and doom to the physical pain he is already feeling.

'How did it block your first spell?' Gawain asks. Meurig glances at Nimue as Gawain asks this question.

Nimue frowns as if considering whether to answer at all. Presently she says: 'I believe that is a question better asked of Caradoc. We will reach the Estate soon, and he is waiting for us.'

As she finishes speaking, behind her there appears a rider at the furthest visible point of the path. Gawain starts, hand reaching for his sword again, but Nimue quiets him.

'You are in no condition to fight. And do not fear, the rider approaching is a friend. Meurig summoned him.'

As the unknown figure comes closer, Gawain can see that it is a druid adorned in the traditional cloak of rich brown. His hood hangs at his shoulders and is lined with a silver fabric that glimmers in the sun, and around the hems of his robe are a silver trim. But catching Gawain's eye the most is the staff in his right hand.

The staff is long, perhaps six feet in length. Dark brown in color, almost black, and polished nearly to shining, it is topped with an intricately carved webbing that houses what looks like the small gray balls that Nimue creates, and that she has said, rather confusingly to Gawain, hold her power.

The druid arrives and pulls up his horse. Meurig rises to meet him while Nimue remains standing beside Gawain.

Meurig confers with the druid before turning back to Gawain and Nimue: 'This is Conall. He comes to escort us the rest of the way back to the Estate.'

Conall nods at both Gawain and Nimue before dismounting from his horse.

'I am pleased to meet you. And thank you for coming to help us along,' says Gawain cordially.

Nimue nods and says, 'Hello again, Conall.' He replies with a nod of his own, smiles, and then turns back to Meurig to start reloading the horses. Gawain wonders what 'again' means.

Conall and Meurig arrange a makeshift seat from a wooden frame carved from branches that Conall has brought from the Estate, and from Meurig's bedroll that he brought on his trip to Camlann. Setting the seat on the back of Nimue's horse, it can extend further towards the front of the horse due to Nimue's bareback riding. Once Gawain is settled behind Nimue on the white mare, he wraps his arms around her midsection, pulls tightly to her, and feels her heels gently kick the side of the mare to set them trotting towards the Estate, the direction from which Conall rode.

'Do you know this Conall?' Gawain asks as they ride.

'I know him from my time in the Oaken Fortress.'

'Which time?'

'Well, when I was training there. You know, I spent quite a few years there training, over a decade...' She glances over her shoulder at him mischievously, goading him.

'I do know that,' Gawain replies, flustered.

'And I have spent time at the Estate periodically for assemblies, ceremonies - and of course in the library. And during these times, I have met Conall. I have met many druids, Gawain.' Her voice changes suddenly to irritation, causing him to withdraw from further questioning.

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

After a brief time of brooding during the half hour's ride, Gawain sees the Estate's gates sitting at the top of a hill in an incursion into the forest. The effect is that a rider must pass into the bounds of the forest and under its canopy while going uphill until they reach the gates of the Estate.

Reaching the entrance to the forest, Nimue pauses and looks up to the canopy. She fingers her small necklace before murmuring something that Gawain cannot hear, and they pass under the great trees. Giant oaks stand tall in this part of the forest, their branches and leaves covering the sky in patches, until further in, the canopy blocks out the sky altogether. It is less than a quarter of a mile that they travel through the forest, and all of it is on the druids' road that is greatly improved from the main track between Camlann and the Estate, better even than the Roman roads. But Gawain is surprised and unsettled by how quickly and completely the forest darkens.

Ahead, the road opens wider, and they pass underneath an arch created from oak branches. Although 'created' may not be quite the right word. It seems the branches have grown together in the right form to make a huge arch over the road. Whether this was a natural occurrence, or a druid's spell, Gawain does not know. He suspects the latter. When he and Nimue pass under the arch, he feels a strange tingling sensation, and he senses a slight vibration throughout her body.

Beyond the arch, the road starts to climb uphill at a steeper angle. The horses slow but do not stop their steady pace. At the top of the hill, the road ends at a huge gate rendered from the trunks of great oaks that have been worked into a tight lattice form, so tight that it cannot be seen through: the gate of the Oaken Fortress. Each trunk is oiled and shines in the early afternoon sun. From the top of each trunk hang fetishes of every color, shaped into the form of animals, and glowing with what appear to be very strong warding spells. At the bottom of each trunk, there is a cluster of sun-bleached skulls, each one grinning at the newcomers in the ghastly way of the dead, as if after death they have been told a joke that they cannot wait to tell the rest of us when we get there. Those, Gawain knows, are rife with spells of all sorts. Without proper invitation, to pass this gate and over those skulls is to invite countless curses upon oneself in this life and the next.

Conall leads the way, and they approach the great gate, stopping with Meurig behind Conall, and Nimue with Gawain behind Meurig, who has led Gawain's horse the rest of the way, tied to his own mount.

Conall raises his voice and shouts upward: 'Open!' A face appears at the top of the gate and peers down at the arrivals. The facial expression is not quite visible, but it seems they have passed whatever inspection is required, because presently a grinding noise comes from behind the gate. And the gate creaks slowly open to a sight that to Gawain is truly astonishing.

The road that ends at the gate continues into the Oaken Fortress, now paved in cobblestone with shining rocks polished to smooth surfaces and laid expertly fitted together so that a gentle winding path connects all the buildings, gardens, gazebos, and verandas of this beautiful place. Gawain recalls having once been brought here with Arthur, to visit Merlin, when he was about four years old. But having been so young, he remembers little. He does remember that most of the time they were here, he clung to Arthur who held him on his hip or hoisted him atop his shoulders.

What appear to be lodgings line the pathways in the foreground: both residential buildings and a tavern at the very front that has three upstairs stories that Gawain assumes hold rooms for guests to the fortress. Behind these buildings there are larger, more elaborate structures that rise higher on the hillside, and appear to Gawain to be assembly halls or spaces to conduct governance.

At the very top of the hill, built around the largest oak tree that Gawain has ever seen, is an otherworldly building made of fantastic shining stone, interlaced with all sorts of ivy and flowers, rising into spires on all sides.

Confirming what Gawain already suspects, Nimue says: 'There is the library.'

'How did we not see this place from the road?'

'This place is not strictly in our world. It is an in-between place. Think of it as in a small courtyard that is contained within a structure, but that itself is open to the sky.'

Nimue goes on to say, 'We need to take you first to the healer's house to see to your leg. I think it is time to apply some more aggressive healing spells to this injury.' Gawain is uncertain how healing can be aggressive, but he nods in acquiescence.

Conall rides off to a different part of the Estate, while Meurig takes the point to lead the way to the healer's house. It is a short distance from the gate, behind the tavern but before the first meeting houses. As they ride, they pass several druids hurrying on errands, but who nevertheless pause long enough to wave and give a cordial greeting.

They reach the healer's house and enter a brightly shining and well-lit room and are met by a very old and small druid who wears the uniform of a healer, faded yellow and forest green. His hair is silver, long, and plaited down his back. He smiles kindly and says: 'I am Senán. Please come with me.'

Senán guides Gawain, supported by Nimue, down a hallway into a room with large windows that let in plenty of sunlight, and directs him to a bed underneath one of the larger windows. Settling in, he looks to Nimue and questions what is to come next.

'You will rest here for a while. I will stay with you, but I may need to attend to some things elsewhere in the fortress. If I do leave, I will be back soon.'

'What exactly did you mean when you said that the healing process would be more aggressive now?' Gawain asks tensely.

'That there are some spells that speed up the healing process but may cause the break to heal weaker than it would otherwise.'

'That does not sound good,' Gawain frowns.

'It is not good. At least it is not the best option, all things considered. But we need you to be healthy if we are to proceed with making me regent and making you king. And I can strengthen it over time, through other methods.'

Gawain shrugs noncommittally. 'Then we will do it, I suppose.'

Before he finishes the sentence, he sees Nimue's attention pulled upwards and beyond him, towards the hallway and door through which they had come. He turns his head to look, and in the doorway sees the tallest and most mysteriously attractive man he has ever seen. His staff makes Conall's staff look like a child's toy. This staff is polished completely black, the same color as Nimue's hair. It is longer than Conall's staff, because this druid dwarfs Conall. And within the intricately carved wooden ball at the top of the staff, a gleaming opal light radiates. Gawain looks closely and thinks he can even see a jewel there that is creating this light, and it looks like the same light into which Morgan carried Arthur.

Gawain sees the druid's broad shoulders, and a chest so large that it is still visible under his druid's robe. Brown hair streaked with gold and silver, perfectly straight, framing his face and reaching down his back. But his face, though kind, is clouded with another emotion, well-hidden. Perhaps grief? A scar runs across it, from the right side of his forehead and down to the left side of his jaw. Gawain looks closer and sees that the druid has only one arm, for his left has been lost.

'Hello, Nimue,' says the druid, his voice resonant and deep.

'Hello, Caradoc,' she replies, beaming.