Dark Merlin: The Man Called Emrys

XIII

MERLIN TOOK THE LONG road to Ealdor. According to the rising sun, Morgana's new hideout had been northwest of Camelot's Citadel. He could've cut a clean line straight to the village where he had grown up, but he needed to stay hidden and keep Morgana guessing. She probably already had hundreds of men searching for him. For Emrys.

He had already been walking a little over a day with bare minimal rest. Darius's words haunted his mind playing over and over. "The more you fall asleep, the easier it will be for Emrys to escape." And that was the last thing he wanted.

His body still ached with every step. The torture from just weeks ago still sent waves of pain shocking through his body, and the bolt that he so vividly remembered left a lingering soreness to his shoulder. Emrys was definitely the stronger half to have been able to functioned feeling the same way. Perhaps the Druids were putting their faith in the wrong man. Him beat Emrys? Him? With the hidden memories that kept popping up, that seemed impossible.

The more he walked the more he hurt and his body began to shake. He couldn't remember the last time Emrys had eaten, if at all, and it had certainly been a while since he himself had let anything tasteful fill his belly.

Another long few hours passed before he finally started smelling the familiar scent of a freshly tilled field. Excitement swelled within him and he took off in a sprint towards the smell. Upon reaching the end of the tree-line, Merlin stopped and gazed out into the vast clearing. His eyes darted from the smoke rising through the chimneys of homes, to the men and women bustling about with their early morning chores, to the children laughing as they ran on the pathway nearly bumping into busy adults, and he smiled. He was home.

Even though he hadn't lived in Ealdor for years, it would always be home to him, and why? His eyes met a middle-aged woman as she emerged from the threshold of her cottage, a basket clinging to her hip full of clothes within its woven walls. This was where his mother lived. This was the town she had chosen to raise him in. Whether or not he ever lived here again, Ealdor would always be considered his home.

He watched as his mother strode happily down the trail towards the towns well. There the women chose to do their laundry instead of carrying bucket loads of water back home. Merlin took this as his chance to invite himself into his old home. He didn't want to spook his mother, but he didn't really want the other villagers seeing him either. Crouching, he sprinted towards his childhood home, nearly tripping in the process several times as his vision swam and his head pounded. He headed for the back door, not really wanting to alert any of the fellow villagers of his presence. Once he arrived, he stood with his back to the decrepit wood and panted listening earnestly to his surroundings. He didn't hear the sound of boots approach him or even the faintest call of his name leaving him to believe that he had made it unseen.

Jiggling the handle from behind, he took one last glance around before pushing the door open and slipping inside. He glanced around and found that nothing had changed much. It was still the single roomed house that Merlin had grown up in. The kitchen was at his far right towards the front door with a table and two chairs directly across to the left under a window. Looking from left to right, he found the familiar curtains hanging from the ceiling that had served as doors to his and his mothers cots.

He pulled back the fabric on the right to find a single cot with perfectly made blankets. Slowly, he took what few steps was needed to reach the edge of the bed and he sat down. Looking at his old cot now, he hadn't realized how luxurious his bed was in Camelot. The mattress was softer and the blankets were less scratchy. Probably because in Camelot he had a proper mattress, not one full of hay, and a set of sheets instead of a thick, dusty blanket. He wanted terribly to just collapse and pass out from exhaustion, but knew it would weaken him and strengthen Emrys so he willfully powered through.

Unexpectedly, Merlin's head began to ache profusely. Reaching up with both hands, he rubbed his middle and index fingers along his temples trying to soothe the pain. He was sure his head was hurting from the lack of sleep and food. Probably nothing to worry about.

He stood up and shoved away the curtain as he made his way towards a small unlit fireplace to the right of the cottage. He grimace as an abrupt eruption of intense agony exploded through his head. It caught him off guard and he lunged forward falling into the wall to keep himself from hitting the ground. He cupped his hands around his head as the pain intensified, and he blinked several times as his vision blurred.

With every long blink came a frightening image. At first, it was the image of a young Merlin flashing a sly smile, a smile Merlin rarely made, but then the images became gruesome. He, as a boy, plunged a dagger through the stomach of one man and left him to bleed out on the floor. The image vanished and Merlin collapsed to his knees on the ground panting. Another scene bombard him showing him use his magic to fling a small girl across the forest. Her back collided with a tree and she didn't get up, her eyes open and lifeless.

Merlin dug his nails along the planks, wood burying itself under his nails. He just wanted this to stop. He didn't know why he was seeing all these awful things, but he couldn't handle it. He felt like he was having an out of body experience, watching himself as he killed innocent people.

The pounding in his head continued as another flash came, only this time, he saw Morgana stalking through the woods. "Emrys," she called in a melodic voice. Merlin, now older, turned himself around to meet her face to face.

As the vision cleared, Merlin finally realized what was happening. These were Emrys's memories. Fear and confusion sent him into a panic. Merlin was so young in the flashbacks. All along Emrys had been there. Merlin had never really been free, and Emrys was always terrorizing someone everywhere he went.

The ache finally subsided, but it lingered only just. His eyes continued to zoom in and out of focus, and his mind felt clouded. He heard blood pounding in his ears as he struggled to get off the floor.

Standing upright, his heart skipped a beat as a familiar voice rang throughout his mind. His own voice called to him, but the tone sent a chill straight to his bones. "Give up," it said. "It's just a matter of time before I break through this barrier."

Merlin began to shake. "Emrys?" he called back.

"Our brain can't handle us both being awake," Emrys replied. "Our memories are beginning to mesh. Give in to the darkness, Merlin. Let me out!"

As Emrys shouted in his head, Merlin felt himself growing weaker and dizzy.

"The barrier's wearing thin," Emrys continued. "Darius's magic won't last forever."

"He said I had four days," Merlin tiredly replied. His skin crawled at the sound of his own laughter.

"Darius may be a Druid Chieftain, but he is no match for my magic." Emrys's voice turned cold and bounced around in Merlin's head. "Two days has almost come and gone, Merlin. In another day or less, this barrier will be gone! The closer I get to busting out the weaker you'll become and then I will take full control."

Through his foggy vision, he watched as the door began to open and with his remaining strength, he stumbled to the door. His mother stepped in, her basket, now full of wet clothes, with her. He leaned against the door, closing it behind her.

Mother gasped and dropped the basket as she swung around. "Merlin?" she breathed, baffled.

Merlin pushed off the door, but felt completely drained of any remaining energy. "Mother, I need your help," he managed to say before his knees buckled underneath him.

He tumbled forward, but his mother caught him before he reached the ground. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he looked up to find his mother's worried gaze and her lips moving as she spoke only he couldn't hear her.

As his vision grew dark, his own wicked laughter returned. "Clocks ticking, Merlin. See you on the other side."