Chapter 12 ~ Mirror.

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''I am well aware I shouldn't have killed that witch, Brandon.'' The cold, silky voice addressed the tall, handsome, but uneasy young man standing next to his Mistress. ''But I had to. She tried to stop me and then she found out more than she meant to. Anyway, the stupid ministry think it's Calix.''

Brandon still shifted, but remained silent, and the witch turned on him as she grew irritated by his silence. ''Go away Brandon, find something else to do if you're just going to patronize me.'' 

He simply nodded quickly and exited the old ruined cottage, and the young woman slumped against the ragged armchair that alone furnished the forgotten building. She sighed. Brandon was becoming to questioning, to hesitant. Maybe a spot of the Imperius curse would help. 

Left on her own, she began to become more aware of her surroundings. She looked around herself before sighing once more.

''Have I been reduced to this? Hiding in a tumble-down ruin when I should be walking the world?'' The thoughts ran through her head as she looked around herself. The walls of the slumped structure in which she rested wrre smothered with Ivy, the twisting plants covering the running cracks in the worn cream walls. Half the roof was absent, the slates that remained  were blowing and cracking in the high wind. The blackened fireplace held grey dust of long-dead coals and the windows were cracked and sprayed with graffiti. She closed her eyes in disgust. She should be in a palace, not here, cold in the empty wilderness. 

''No.'' She said sternly to herself. ''I am here for a reason.''

For soon her plan would begin to work, soon she would get somewhere.If only the bludger had hit the boy instead of exploding. If so, it would have already begun. After the failed attempt to get him out of the way, she had realized it was the other one she had to get rid of first. The boy with the scar along his cheek. He was a thinker. He knew about the girl. She needed to get him out of the way, then try again with his friend. Then, finally, she would get the girl to join her.

First, though, before she managed to get rid of the boys, she would meet the girl. She couldn't wait any longer, after the death of that ministry witch she had to move faster and be more careful. Tonight she would send the girl the message. Then they would meet. Then, so that the to boys didn't interfere, she'd get them out of the way.

Lady Mirror Gorlois smiled to herself, lifting her head up to gaze at the night sky through the broken rafters. Flaxen hair, refined face, pale grey eyes. The last descendant of Morgause Gorlois, she carried the noble blood of her ancestor. Morgause had been the sister of Morgana Le Fay, therefore Mirror was related to Maurelle. However, the old magic of that time was not present in Mirror, she had to use a wand. And that's why she needed Maurelle. She, too wished to avenge her ancestors death by killing Merlin, but she had other plans. An army of dark witches she was gathering, descendants of the old families, they had powerful magic despite the need of wands. Together with Maurelle and her followers, Mirror would gain hold of the wizarding world, and then the Muggle. She wanted everyone to pay for their tales of King Arthur, she wanted everyone to bow before her and accept her.

Maurelle would be glad of someone who shared her understanding, Mirror knew. She always knew.

***

Hundreds of miles from the shack in Scotland, a ripple disturbed the silent surface of the lake. Shrouded with mist, the only thing a person standing on the lake shore would have seen was the glowing lantern. This light adorned the small rowing boat, the boat that had no oars yet floated across the green water with grace and speed. 

The old man stood hunched in it lifted his head to gaze at the night sky, eyes glowing orange. They dimmed as the boat touched the bottom of the lake and came to a stand still. Alone in the night, the old wizard still looked at his surroundings. It was a familiar place that brought aching memories to the heart and reminded him of long, long ago. Centuries seemed to pass like decades to him, but as his body had become weak, old, his mind had strengthened. He no longer let the times of old draw tears from his eyes.

And he could feel now, something had changed. An old wind was rising, one that smelt of the sandstone dust in a echoed breeze, the moss on a forgotten gravestone. Something was awakening. Something was stirring. 

Merlin dropped out of the boat and onto the thick mud beneath him that marked the shore of the island that was the centerpiece of the dark lake. He made his way up to the single pike of stone that stood upon the forgotten isle and whispered under his breath. Eyes burning amber once more, a stone shifted in the tower before him, moving to reveal the black, dusty passage untouched for centuries by any human other than him. He took a torch of the wall and lit it, revealing more of the tunnel as it led to the crumbling chamber.

''Hello Gwain.'' He passed an ironcast figure lay on a stone bed. ''Good evening, Percival.'' The metal faces did not move, their owners did not reply. He murmured his greetings to all the knights as he passed them, until reaching the only one who stood. 

King Arthur, shedding an empty steel stare upon his warriors, did not move as Merlin shuffled around him. He stood bearing excalibur, face still clear with youth, back still straight with strength. Merlin gazed at the metal face. ''You have fared better than me, my friend.'' The old wizard sighed and sat next to Sir Rupest, sharing the stone seat. He came here often, greeting his companions of the old round table. He could still remember everything about them. Gwain's laugh. Leon's grin. Arthur's patronizing tone he only used when addressing Merlin. The magician chuckled as he remembered the speeches Arthur had once made him bear, the times when they'd had the occasional joke, the funny accidents that always seemed to involve the king. 

''Oh, you old clot pole.'' He laughed again as he named the silent king the oath he'd made up one time. Arthur had always questioned it. ''Turnip head.'' Another laugh echoed around the chamber. And then it was replaced with a gasp.

The king had smiled.

END OF PART ONE