Young Writers Society

2

Twice Rescued

Ryder slid off the side of the horse and breathed heavily for a moment. He had never ridden so fast, not even when he was late for a delivery. On that time, he had run three horses to near death and had been lucky to just reach each way-station before the mount was exhausted.

“That was far too fast,” he sighed and leant against a tree whilst his rescuer removed the horse’s saddle.

Her fingers were nimble and flickered over the straps and buckles that Ryder too was familiar with. As she unclipped the last belt, he moved towards her, intending to help her carry the saddle, but before he could assist her, she plucked it from the horse’s back and walked away.

“Where are you going?” Ryder scampered after her unsteadily as she strode towards what looked like a natural cave. The lady paused to let him catch up, but as soon as he was beside her she began to walk again.

“To put away the saddle,” she explained in a lilting voice. As she spoke, a bird twittered merrily and landed on her shoulder.

“Well, what am I meant to do?” he retorted, his unhappy mood intensified by her breeziness, “I’ve no idea where I am! I need to get back on the highway.”

Ignoring the question the woman kept walking. Ryder folded his arms grumpily and followed her like a dog at her heel. She reached the cave and turned to him.

“You can wait here, I will not be long,” she spoke calmly and ducked to enter the cave.

“Hold on, pretty lady,” Ryder was astonished. She obviously thought he had no other business. “Wait to what end?”

“There is someone I wish you to meet. You can take a message for him, if you feel capable of such a task,” she smiled happily before disappearing into the cave. Ryder’s mouth dropped open.

“Capable of such a task! I’ve taken messages from one end of the kingdom to another! Speaking of which—” he tailed off as he realised the woman was not listening. Fuming he turned away from the cave mouth and looked out towards the forest.

If my sense of direction is right, he thought, the highway must be…

It was useless. He had no idea. But, he knew he couldn’t afford more delays. If that woman was going to take him to someone else, he would just have to leave her.

“That way,” he murmured his decision aloud and strode off towards the nearest clump of trees. Within minutes he was deep within the leafy jaws.

When he judged himself out of earshot, he hummed softly to himself. After a while, he began to time snapping branches underfoot with the beat of his tune. He continued with this until the ground began to get softer, and the twigs damper. He walked a bit further and felt his boots squelching in mud. Ryder stopped in his tracks.

“The river!” he realised excitedly. He had gone in the right direction after all! Ryder had often seen the river from the highway; they both wound their way towards Camelot before the river meandered off to the sea. With renewed enthusiasm he stomped off through the wet mud.

As he crested a slight rise, he heard voices. He froze and saw a group of riders cantering through the forest. His blood turned to ice and he flailed backwards before falling into the thick mud below the rise. The horses came nearer.

“Oh please,” he muttered before struggling in the mud. It crept over his writhing body and held him tight. No matter how hard he fought to free himself, the heavy mud enveloped him.

Ryder lay staring as the horses trotted over the rise in front of him. One of the riders saw him and called the others to stop. Ryder sighed. There was nothing he could do now. He watched resignedly as a figure dismounted gracefully and peered down at him. It was a lady.

“Ryder!” It was the melodic tones of Lady Claire. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“I can explain!” Ryder replied weakly.

Senna came back out of the cave to see the man gone. She let lose another shrill wistle and a small fox ran out of the woods.

'You called me?' She asked looked Senna over,

[/i]'The man that was here, where did he go?' Senna asked,

[i]'Well, last I saw he was stuck in the mud and a lady and some other men showed up.' The fox said walking between Senna's legs affectunitly.

'Would you mind showing me where he is?' Senna asked, the fox jogged off into the woods Senna following.

'He didn't get to far.' The fox said, when they got to where the group was the man was being pulled from the mud. Senna smiled, she waited watching them, she would step out if she needed too. 'All he had to do was be patient and I would've had Nightmare take him all the way to his destination, at a slower pace of course.' The fox hummed in her ear laughing, it was on her shoulder now.

Morgan paused, hesitating. She had done six experiments with the spell, three of them successful. She had transformed herself into a large white dove and soared over the plains, surveying the fields that, she thought smugly, would soon enough be hers. She transformed one of her maids into a bird as well, a bird that had to obey her every command. The last successful spell she had simply stored in a bottle for future use.

Now she had three doves left, and she contemplated what to do with them. The spells using dove's blood were few and far between - the only ones she knew of were - scrying, transportation and transformation. Which to choose?

Morgan pondered. She could scry on Merlin and his brat, Arthur...see what they were up to. She could transport herself there personally to see what was happening - or she could store another tranformation spell.

She could always find more doves to try the other spells with, so she decided to try her hand at scrying. This was a much simpler spell than the transformation one had been. She broke the dove's necks and drained their blood into a large marble basin, sprinkled dried mint leaves over it and snapped her fingers.

"Merlin the Enchanter," she muttered, closing her eyes.

At her words the mint leaves drifted to either side of the dark, pooled blood and a picture appeared in the screen. It was a large, bird's-eye view of a forest. Dense, lush and green, it was typical of the Southern forests.

"What are you doing, Merlin? Hiding yourself away from the world so they don't see what a crazy old man you are?"

Waving her hand over the basin, the picture moved closer, the trees rushing up at Morgan until it felt as if she were in the branches themselves, then dropping down through and to the forest floor. The picture showed her a clear, beautiful meadow near a sparkling brook. Merlin, hair grown long and wild, was crouched near the roots of a large tree at the edge of a clearing. His lips were moving, but Morgan couldn't hear anything he said through the picture. It was apparent, however, that he was talking to the squirrel that was perched on the tree root in front of him.

Morgan smiled. "Good. Still crazy...and you can stay that way for all I care. But where's the little brat? Where's Arthur?"

She concentrated firmly on the picture and forced it to move forward through the trees, showing her Merlin's surroundings. There was no sign of Arthur, although there was a small cottage nearby that looked as if it had been lived-in recently.

"Why are you in this forest, Merlin? What's in here?" Morgan continued to explore.

Quite abruptly she came on a scene of silent chaos that made her stop in surprise and amusement. There was a man, thrashing about in the mud. By the insignia on his mud-splattered back, he was a messenger. Crouching in the forest nearby was a young woman with a fox at her side, who seemed to be finding a lot in the scene to laugh about. Morgan started when she saw who else was there - Lady Claire. Morgan recognized her from four years ago when she had still lived at Camelot. Lady Claire was a plotting, scheming sort of lady and Morgan had always kept a sharp eye on her. What was she doing here?

The lady was standing just outside of the muddy area, clearly torn between keeping her clothes clean and helping the messenger.

Morgan shook her head and snorted in disgust. Fools, all fools.

She was about to order the picture back to Merlin when it started to shake and shiver. She frowned and held her hand over it. Something was disturbing the connection between the forest and her scrying bowl.

"Merlin. Go back to Merlin," she ordered quickly. The picture swiveled wildly, dizzying Morgan with the swirl of leaves, bark and earth.

When the picture stopped again it was still shivering, but not as badly as before. Morgan gasped as she saw what was not shown in her marble bowl. It was Merlin's face, looming large in the picture, his features deadly serious, eyes sparkling dangerously.

Morgan stared into his eyes, mesmirized. She fought to tear free her gaze, fought to regain control of the scrying bowl, but was unable to terminate the spell.

Morgan. Merlin's words formed the one silent word. Anger, disgust and sorrow filled his gaze. He raised his arm and the color of his ragged cloak filled the picture. His lips moved once more, the picture shuddered violently, then crackled across.

Morgan sat back, watching the mint leaves drift back across the dark, empty pool of blood. She was shaken by the experience, and sat for a moment just thinking.

Merlin had somehow known that she was scrying on him. How? How had he discovered it? Apparently, even though he was crazy, he still had complete command over his magic. Infuriated, Morgan stood and began pacing the room. Someday she would be more powerful than Merlin. Someday soon.

"I swear it," she said to herself. "I swear it."

Merlin stood, alone, in the meadow. His gaze, while still filled with sorrow, disgust, and anger, was abstracted.

"I am not as crazy as some are led to believe," he muttered under his breath, staring of into the distance. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

He assumed his happy, carefree smile again, though his eyes still maintained their dangerous tint, and walked off into the forest towards where he knew Senna and the other srangers would be. He swung his arms as he stpped over branches and brambles, finally comming to kneel beside Senna.

"Who is that?" he asked curiously. Senna whirled around in surprise.

"Oh," she chuckled. "You scared me. That's the king's messenger, Ryder. I found him runing through the forest from some guards and decided to rescue him. And the lady there, i think, is Lady Claire of Camelot."

"Ah. Lady Claire. I think i remember her from a long time ago...no, that was someone else." he turned to smile at Senna innocently.

Senna looked at Merlin and rolled her eyes.

"Why are you spyin on them?" He asked,

"I'm bored, and have nothing else to do." She replied,

"I thought you rescued him?" Merlin said

"I did, he took off when I stepped inside to put my saddle up, thats how he got stuck."

"Oh," Merlin chuckled, "not surprising, you are quiet scary." Senna glared at him then turned back to the group.

Althea climbed out of the dark river, her skin glittering a light blue. She looked around, trying to figure out where all of that sound had come from. She took a step around the rock and looked onward towards the sun. There was a small group of conversing in the fields farther down the hill. I wonder what they're doing here? Perhaps important business.

This sparked curiousity in Althea's mind and, with quick and quiet steps, she ran to the edge of the forest where she could get a good view of everyone talking.

Staring out at the freezing rain that whipped across the grey northern landscape, Morgan scowled in frustration.

"My twentieth birthday, and I'm still languishing in this gloomy place."

She shook her head and turned from the window, looking at the two bottles that stood high on the shelf.

"Where Merlin is, everything is sunny and warm, and the forest is green," Morgan said wistfully.

Transformations were easy. It wouldn't be too draining on her strength. Before she could change her mind, she uncorked one of the bottles and downed the slimy liquid all in one gulp, fighting her gag reflex and forcing her stomach to keep the liquid inside. The spell was brought into play when Morgan spoke the trigger word, which she didn't speak immediately. Instead she looked again at the other bottle.

"It would be so foolish...and yet..." she plucked the bottle down and stared at it. "Why not?"

Pulling the cork off, she gulped down it's contents as well. Standing for a moment with her hand to her stomach, she steadied herself and turned, a vicious smile on her face.

"Camelot is due for a little visit from Morgan le Fey, I think. Why languish here in this dank, miserable prison when I can be gaining the throne in Camelot?"

Going to the corner of her room, she surveyed the large, unkempt pile of clothing, sighing and shaking her head.

"Something impressive, I should think...give the yokels an idea of what true nobility looks like."

Drawing forth a black gown that was cut diagonally at the waste, she threw it over her head. It flowed down around her feet like dark, smooth water. The sleeves were long and loose, and the diamond-cut ends of the cloth touched the backs of her knuckles. Bending down, she slipped soft black and gold slippers onto her feet.

Going to her wash-basin, she washed her hands and face for the first time in many days. Scrubbing her alabaster skin clean and restoring her hands to their former creamy white, smooth hue, she sighed and smiled. How nice.

Next she attacked her unruly black locks, stroke after stroke from a stiff brush rendering her tangled elf-locks once more to their smooth ebony glory. When her hair was clean and smooth, she took the two locks at the front and braided them, then tied them together at the back, letting the ends of the braids fall down to join the rest of her loose hair that fell below her waste.

Surveying herself, she sighed in satisfaction. It was nice to be beautiful again.

"Now, servants...servants." She frowned. "I'll just have to wait until I get there. I'm sure some of my...charms...will win friends at court soon enough."

Leaving a brief note on the table for her guards in case they wondered where she was, she went to the window again. Taking a deep breath, she looked as far as she could towards the horizon, sharp purple and green eyes cutting through the misting sleet and clouds, almost able to see the green fields and sunny warmth of the south.

"Camelot," she said commandingly, waving her hands over the windowsill in crossing patterns.

The world collapsed around her, stone walls and cluttered ground coming in towards her, surrounding her more and more closely until she felt like it would crush her. Then it started to spin before her, causing her eyes to swivel painfully until she was forced to close them. The potions heaved within her as she felt the world spinning around her.

Then the lurching and pulling seemed to stop suddenly. Sighing with relief, she opened her eyes and swayed dizzily for a moment. Then, putting a hand to her forhead, she looked around her.

In the mud at her feet lay a messenger, struggling to rise out of the mud. Across the mudhold was a noblewoman, in the bushes was a woman with a fox at her side, and Merlin just turning to leave. Breathing a sigh of relief that Merlin hadn't seen her, Morgan turned, trying to back out of the scene before anyone saw her.

"Where are you goin?" a calm, low voice asked behind her.

Morgan started and saw that her way was blocked by a strange-looking woman.

Then Morgan looked up. The man in the mud had stopped struggling, the noblewoman had stopped trying to help him, and the girl with the fox had stopped laughing. Morgan's eyes darted around wildly for a moment, then she looked down at herself - then back up at everone. They were all st

Staring out at the freezing rain that whipped across the grey northern landscape, Morgan scowled in frustration.

"My twentieth birthday, and I'm still languishing in this gloomy place."

She shook her head and turned from the window, looking at the two bottles that stood high on the shelf.

"Where Merlin is, everything is sunny and warm, and the forest is green," Morgan said wistfully.

Transformations were easy. It wouldn't be too draining on her strength. Before she could change her mind, she uncorked one of the bottles and downed the slimy liquid all in one gulp, fighting her gag reflex and forcing her stomach to keep the liquid inside. The spell was brought into play when Morgan spoke the trigger word, which she didn't speak immediately. Instead she looked again at the other bottle.

"It would be so foolish...and yet..." she plucked the bottle down and stared at it. "Why not?"

Pulling the cork off, she gulped down it's contents as well. Standing for a moment with her hand to her stomach, she steadied herself and turned, a vicious smile on her face.

"Camelot is due for a little visit from Morgan le Fey, I think. Why languish here in this dank, miserable prison when I can be gaining the throne in Camelot?"

Going to the corner of her room, she surveyed the large, unkempt pile of clothing, sighing and shaking her head.

"Something impressive, I should think...give the yokels an idea of what true nobility looks like."

Drawing forth a black gown that was cut diagonally at the waste, she threw it over her head. It flowed down around her feet like dark, smooth water. The sleeves were long and loose, and the diamond-cut ends of the cloth touched the backs of her knuckles. Bending down, she slipped soft black and gold slippers onto her feet.

Going to her wash-basin, she washed her hands and face for the first time in many days. Scrubbing her alabaster skin clean and restoring her hands to their former creamy white, smooth hue, she sighed and smiled. How nice.

Next she attacked her unruly black locks, stroke after stroke from a stiff brush rendering her tangled elf-locks once more to their smooth ebony glory. When her hair was clean and smooth, she took the two locks at the front and braided them, then tied them together at the back, letting the ends of the braids fall down to join the rest of her loose hair that fell below her waste.

Surveying herself, she sighed in satisfaction. It was nice to be beautiful again.

"Now, servants...servants." She frowned. "I'll just have to wait until I get there. I'm sure some of my...charms...will win friends at court soon enough."

Leaving a brief note on the table for her guards in case they wondered where she was, she went to the window again. Taking a deep breath, she looked as far as she could towards the horizon, sharp purple and green eyes cutting through the misting sleet and clouds, almost able to see the green fields and sunny warmth of the south.

"Camelot," she said commandingly, waving her hands over the windowsill in crossing patterns.

The world collapsed around her, stone walls and cluttered ground coming in towards her, surrounding her more and more closely until she felt like it would crush her. Then it started to spin before her, causing her eyes to swivel painfully until she was forced to close them. The potions heaved within her as she felt the world spinning around her.

Then the lurching and pulling seemed to stop suddenly. Sighing with relief, she opened her eyes and swayed dizzily for a moment. Then, putting a hand to her forhead, she looked around her.

In the mud at her feet lay a messenger, struggling to rise out of the mud. Across the mudhold was a noblewoman, in the bushes was a woman with a fox at her side, and Merlin just turning to leave. Breathing a sigh of relief that Merlin hadn't seen her, Morgan turned, trying to back out of the scene before anyone saw her.

"Where are you goin?" a calm, low voice asked behind her.

Morgan started and saw that her way was blocked by a strange-looking woman.

Then Morgan looked up. The man in the mud had stopped struggling, the noblewoman had stopped trying to help him, and the girl with the fox had stopped laughing. Morgan's eyes darted around wildly for a moment, then she looked down at herself - then back up at everone. They were all perfectly still and staring directly and intently at her.

"Damn," said Morgan. Plastering a charming smile on her face, she took a deep breath. Her stay in Camelot had begun. With

Senna had had her laugh, she walked out to the mud and walked out towards the messenger. The fox ran off not liking be close to all those people.

"Now, if you had stopped struggling a while ago you would be out, and if you hadn't taken off you wouldn't be here in the first place." She smiled, she stepped in the mud but on a rock that she used to get across or to stand on to help caught animals, and the occasional humen. He took her hand and she tugged him out. He sat on the ground and scrapped as much mud off him as he could. Senna quickly stepped back out of the mud and wiped her feet off on the grass. She looked towards the other women to see what she would say in answer to the question that was pointed towards her.

As Althea watched the scene unfold before her eyes, something strange happened. A woman, a goddess as Althea would see it, appeared from thin air. She was dressed in a beautiful coal black color that she only saw on the misty pebbles near the river banks. How she admired humans clothing. It was beautiful, unlike her own shear skin which clung coldly to her body when she got out of the water.

Althea stared a little harder at the woman and noticed something very unusual. One of her eyes was green and the other... purple. It was one of the most remarkable, yet strange things she had ever seen. She wanted to take a closer look.

She was sure she would stand out if she walked straight out of the woods because she hadn't changed over yet. So, she jumped into the water and glided over towards the scene, peaking her head out just above the top of the water.

"Damn."

Althea giggled and air bubbles rose. The woman turned her head in Althea's direction, but Althea had already ducked her head back under the water before she had seen her.

"Damn," the beautiful woman said, and at the next moment, a hundred voices yelled, "Be still!"

Claire whirled around. Appearing out of the trees were a large fraction of the king's army. There were soldiers, and at least ten mages; robes dragging and staffs held out in front of them like spears. How they'd gotten there so fast, and silently, Claire had no idea, but it didn't matter. She was caught; trapped.

The sorceress laughed scornfully, starting to move, but the other wizard, who could only be Merlin himself, whispered, "Stop, Morgan."

One of the king's mages spoke. "You are under arrest, by order of his royal highness the king. You shall surrender your arms, and be escorted to the fortress for punishment."

"What is your cause?" Claire demanded.

"That is not for me to say. Now, if you will put down your sword." He addressed Izlude.

Slowly, Izlude did as he was told. The head mage reached to pick it up, but froze, suddenly. Merlin shouted a word, then in a clatter of metal, the soldiers collapsed as one. They lay unmoving in the bog. Claire turned to Merlin, who was looking annoyed.

"Well, come on, then, all of you," he said. "They'll be waking up soon."

Morgan shook her head at the scene of chaos in front of her. It had been a foolish decision for her to come here. And why was she in the forest, anyway? She had asked for Camelot, thinking of the castle itself.

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Merlin himself coming up. She knew he would try to capture her with some sort of magical net and make her conveniently 'disappear' if she didn't get out of there soon. Camelot would be safe enough, since Merlin never went there. Closing her eyes and blocking out all the noise and confusion.

"Dove," she said firmly. Immediately her bones began to collapse upon each other, her skin shrinking and cracking painfully. Her dress grew looser and looser around her, and her eyelids disappeared all-together, and she could see everything was much larger than it had been before. The potion within her stomach was completely gone, all it's power depleted.

Twittering, she cocked her head and stared up at the huge humans that towered above her.

"Goodbye, you lot," she said, chuckling and twittering.

Aw, Dark Magik, you going with the Sword In the Stone-old grouch-bearded venerable type Merlin! Ahem, sorry, shutting up.

Eleanor Fawkes

I reached Lady Claire's room and hesitantly raised my fist. For a moment, I let it hand there between myself and the door while I debated the pros and cons of disturbing such an important woman. In the end, I let it fall, as much out of exhaustion as a general decision that if I was expected, it was okay for me to knock. I waited for a few minutes but no response was issued forth. No messenger came to show me in and neither did a voice bid me enter. Had she forgotten? Had the invitation been some sort of practical joke? There were certainly boys capable of that but who had the power to enlist an adult in their ploy?

_________________________

Okay so I haven't written in a while and it's short but at least it's something...

Morgan launched herself up into the air, weaving from side to side as she tried to adjust to her new size.

Nobody was paying attention to her, so she flew off, leaving her beautiful black dress behind her regretfully.

Flying quickly towards the castle, she debated what to do next. She could hide in the castle until she had gathered enough information...but that was too uncomfortable, and she woudl have to disguise herself. Merlin couldn't attack her when she was inside the castle, in public - and besides, he never came to Camelot anyway.

She came to the large stone archways that she remembered so well from five years ago, and sighed bitterly. Entering them, she spotted a window leading to an empty room. Flying towards it she entered. It was obviously a ladies' inner chamber...there was a closet in which lay assortments of rich gowns. Morgan smiled. They looked about her size.

"Anthem Urgum Voce," she said commandingly. Immediately her shape began to swell again and her feathers fluttered to the floor. Momentarily she was once again a human - naked.

Turning quickly from the window, she strode towards the closet and chose a long black dress with gold embroidery on the sleeves. Slipping it on easily, she chose some dark slippers to go with it. It was a little loose at the shoulders, but otherwise a perfect fit.

Just as she was about to let herself out the door, she heard a timid rapping from a close-by chamber. Cocking her head, she opened the bedchamber door and strode forward through the dining and guest room. The door was coming from the corridor that led towards the rest of the castle.

Morgan reached the door and opened it abruptly, staring down into the face of a timid, curious boy dressed in page's garments.

"Lady...Claire?" asked the boy quietly.