Merlin dropped onto the desolate beach where he knew he would find Melehan.
The Saxon wizard was still in the same position, knees drawn up, staring out into the distance. The sea did not seem to have either come in or gone out since the last time Merlin had visited his host - the waves still lapping just short of Melehan's feet. The same hazy mist hovered just above the horizon, hiding anything that may be visible.
Merlin quickly crossed over the grey sand - it would be fair to say the overall atmosphere of Depression Cove hadn't perked up much in the last few days - and sat beside him. Hello, Melehan. How are things?
As he'd pretty much expected, there was no response. If the Saxon even realised someone had joined him, he gave no sign.
Look, obviously, I've not really done the right thing by you since my arrival. It would be fair to say that I got a little caught up with being alive again and haven't given you as much thought as I should have done. I've been taking advantage of you being all . . . if there was a word other than 'broken' that Merlin could use in this circumstance, it eluded him for the moment. Honestly, it was hard to look at the desiccated shell that was Melehan right now and have any other word leap to mind. That doesn't matter. What I'm trying to say is that what I have been doing was very wrong, and I'm extremely sorry.
There was no response.
A frown creased Merlin's brow, and he felt a spike of irritation. Not for nothing, my dear, but I can probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of people I have sincerely apologised to. I know you are not in a tremendous place - mental health-wise - but politeness costs nothing.
"What do you want, Merlin?" Melehan's voice was soft and indistinct, the gentle sound of the waves sliding up the beach almost drowning them out.
Merlin's frown vanished. Just for a moment there, he'd been worried he'd left it too late. There were countless stories of cultivators who'd slipped inside their cores when the going got tough and simply never came out again. The way time dilation worked here might have made it feel to Melehan that it was only moments since Merlin was last beside him.
Equally, though, it might have seemed like centuries.
All things being equal, then, the fact that the wizard was able to talk to him was a pretty good sign.
Ah, hello there. You are compos mentis, after all. Excellent. Look, I'm going to level with you, things are looking pretty bad out in the real world at the moment.
Melehan carried on staring out across the sea. He did not appear to have blinked since Merlin had sat down. “I'm sorry to hear it. If you were wondering, things are looking pretty grim in here, too."
Merlin did his best not to look too carefully around the desolate beach. He did not have time to get too bummed out right now. Yes. Yes, I can see that. Far be it from me to offer someone interior design tips on their own soul space, but you'd be amazed what a few well-chosen statement pieces can do. If you want, I could whip up a couple of nice cliff faces to jazz the landscape up a little. I don't know, but maybe an ice cream van or two? I could even encourage a few nymphs from my own internal space to pop in to keep you entertained."
"Tell me what you want or get out."
Look, I'm trying to make amends here, Melehan. I have wronged you and want to make it up to you. Are you sure there's not anything I can offer?
"The only thing I want, wizard, is to die."
Merlin did his absolute best to keep a grin from widening on his face. Well, do you know what? It's funny you should say that . . .
*
Aurelius was becoming bored.
The unexpected heat that had occurred when he caught Drynwyn had been mildly diverting. It had been an extremely long time since he'd held a Treasure of Britain in his hand - his Saxon hordes placed much less interest in collecting them than he could have hoped - and the remembrance of things past had put him in an uncharacteristic, good mood.
And then his nephew and - he presumed - the boy's wife had turned up to show no little skill with the spear, which also had the effect of reminding him of simpler days.
He and Uther had sparred in this way throughout their youth, and there was a pleasure in relieving, however, briefly, a period of his life where the most pressing issue of his existence was deciding which serving girl he would be fucking that evening.
But, as seemed to happen too regularly nowadays, there was no challenge to be found here, and ennui was settling in.
It was hard to take a fight seriously when, no matter how often they wounded him - and to be fair, they overcame his defences more often than he would have expected - he was never really in danger. After all, at his level of cultivation, no weapon forged by a human would ever bring him low.
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Stifling a yawn, he decided to bring this diversion to a close.
With a lazy flick of his hand, he released a gust of wind -
Hmmm.
What remained of his men.
What had happened there?
Aurelius's eyes quickly focused on a tall, beefy - why was he shirtless? - man putting the last of the Dark Tower's garrison to the sword. How had that godless barbarian got loose again? He'd been running merry hell through the town of Wansdyke when the panicked request for help had reached the Bretwalda. It had, of course, been the work of moments to transport him to one of the cells in the building above.
You didn't kill someone that good with a blade. Not if you might be able to make use of them in the future.
However, it looked like he was up to his same old tricks again. What good was it having Saxon minions when they could not subdue one lone barbarian? No matter how glossy his hair.
Aurelius's decent mood was quickly vanishing. He would need to deal with that one personally. Again. He did so hate repeating himself.
He spared the scene of casual destruction a few more heartbeats until his nephew and his woman crashed into a pile of corpses.
Without waiting to see if they'd survived their impromptu flight, he returned his attention to Merlin's apprentice and the Saxon wizard he now suspected was hosting some remnant of his old foe's spirit.
The apprentice was crying, which he didn't much care for.
His captors hadn't cared when he cried, had they? How could she not have learned that most basic of lessons yet? When you were a cultivator, no one cared how you felt. Tears did not mean anything. You took what you needed because there was no one to save you.
Cultivating 101.
What did she possibly have to weep about? After everything he'd done for her? Did she not understand the honour he had done her! A spark of fury ignited in his Qi, and the air around him shrieked as it evaporated in the heat of his anger.
This apprentice had been given an infinite amount of time to cultivate. He'd removed all the frivolous techniques she'd been allowed to pick up. And she'd had all the distracting demands of life withdrawn from her. She had no need to eat, to drink, to sleep. What better situation could she possibly have found herself in to grow strong?
He'd had to do it the hard way. Day by day, year by year, beating by beating. She'd had decades to develop her craft and had barely been out of the world a day!
And how was she thanking him? By sobbing like a baby.
He strode forward and grabbed her by the scruff of the neck. Merlin's apprentice hung limply in his grasp, not even bothering to fight back, which irritated him even more.
He shook her to try to get some sort of reaction. You didn't give up like this. You didn't surrender. You fought with tooth and claw. And when they ripped those out, you grew new ones and kept fighting some more.
With the girl seemingly unconscious in his hand, he looked down at - presumably - the cause of her woe. The Saxon with the missing arm was pretty much dead. Which meant if, as he suspected, this wizard was a repository for the last bit of Merlin's soul, it was just a few more moments before that wanker was finally purged from this world.
It made sense, he supposed. For the last six months, Aurelius had always had that nagging feeling that this particular door was not quite closed. This was why he had wasted so much time and energy removing any potential from the timeline that could offer that old goat something to hold on to.
It was unpleasant work—and Aurelius was not proud of the innocent blood he bathed his hands in—but if you wanted a job done, it was better to do it once. Do it thoroughly. And salt the earth behind you.
He gave the girl a shake.
And yet, this pathetic specimen had slipped through. Looking at her, though, he could understand how he may have missed her during the slaughter. If this was all she the fight of which she was capable, it was no wonder.
He kicked the broken figure at his feet. "You have Merlin inside you, don't you?" Maybe he shouldn't have pulled off his arm. But it was easy to forget how fragile people were sometimes.
To his surprise, the eyes of the wizard flicked open slowly. "Aurelius?"
"Ah! So you do recognise me. I'm glad. It has been a matter of profound sorrow that you died without knowing who was responsible. I'm glad to be here at the end to witness your final passing from the world. It does me good to feel your despair."
“You . . . always . . . were . . .” Melehan's voice was barely a whisper.
Aureus leant down towards him. The girl dangling in his grip: “What? Clever? Devious? Inevitable?”
Melehan wet his lips with a grey tongue. He clearly only had seconds to live.
"No." Another deep breath. Then, the Saxon's eyes suddenly became extraordinarily focused and filled with awareness. "A needy cunt."
And then, a series of unfortunate events took place.
*
Melehen had been sure that his weeks of torture at the hands of Cedric would have done something to cleanse his soul. To bring the scales back into balance after what he had done.
But no. He was too much in the red for that.
As soon as he had looked at his soul space, he knew there would be no way to make amends for the lives he had taken at Isca.
That awareness had broken his mind.
It had taken Merlin to show him a way to finally bring it all to an end.
His eyes narrowed on the High King. The man who had forced him onto the path his life had taken. He had never wanted to be a battle wizard. He had found such joy in his small acts of cultivation.
Well, no more of that.
He felt the Qi block fall over him, indicating he was within another wizard's aura. Fighting his every instinct, he braced himself and pressed through it.
But try as he might, he couldn't quite force the fast travel destination to connect.
"Merlin?" he shouted into the void.
*
He's too close, my dear.
"I don't know what that means!" My head was feeling crushed by a build-up of Qi in the atmosphere
"It's so nearly there. We just need a bit of distance from Aureluis. Can you push him?"
"I'm dangling a foot from the ground by the neck. I'm strong, but I don't think I can do much. I can try to stagger him with my wit?"
My dear, I'd forgotten what a hoot you could be. Perhaps, I don't know, use your Qi?
I fired up
Hey, on the plus side, he dropped me.
"Far enough?"
The Uther lookalike was already walking back towards us, a grim expression on his gloomy face.
I wish there were another adjective, but I was shitting myself.
“Far enough,” I heard Melehan murmur. "For Isca"
And everything went white. And very loud.