His Mage

Seven

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Later that evening the Mage was working over a small pile of herbs when Bedivere approached her. The old knight had waited until the others retired for the night before going to speak with The Mage. There was something about her that unsettled the others. Perhaps it was because they had never spent much time around mages before. Either way, Bedivere felt badly his men seemed to avoid the young woman. She was more intense than Merlin had ever been certainly, but she had come to help them.

"How did you get him to agree?" He asked after a moment. The Mage had displayed nothing to make him think she could be especially persuasive. In fact, in the weeks she had been in the caves she hadn't spoken much at all. And now, somehow, over the course of just a short conversation she had convinced the acerbic future king to not only stay, perhaps not go along with, but at least not actively oppose their plans.

The Mage glanced up from her work to meet Bendivere's gaze. "He is fighting the magic of the sword. It's why he passed out when he connected to it. I dream walked to find out why."

"You dream walked when he was unconscious?" Bedivere asked in shock. "Isn't that incredibly dangerous?" It was phrased like a question but there was accusation in his eyes.

"Are you a mage?" She challenged, not liking him questioning her. She liked even less that he was right. It was outrageously dangerous to dream walk with someone who is unconscious, only when the dreamer woke could they be freed from the connection. With The Born King unconscious the two of them could have become trapped in the dream world and gone mad long before Arthur woke.

When Bedivere didn't respond she continued. "He has nightmares. Had his whole life. It is of his father's death, the moment when he inherited the sword as a boy but did not claim it. The sword calls to him...he fights it."

Bedivere frowned. He blamed himself for not being there for the boy. He felt he had somehow failed his old friend. Uther would have trusted him and Bill to look out for his son and make sure he was well cared for. They had done neither of those things and now the son of their closest friend considered him a foe.

"So how-" Bedivere started to ask.

"I told him I could take away the dreams," she said, wondering if he knew enough about magic to understand the significance of what she was saying.

"But if the dreams are tied into the magic of the sword and him denying it, in order to make them go away won't he have to accept the magic and bring the sword-" he started to say and stopped as though he didn't believe it could be the solution.

"He will have to bring the sword back to the place of its forging," The Mage finished for him impatiently.

"But that's-" Bedivere's face was a mask of shock.

The Mage huffed agitatedly. "In order for him to control Excalibur he needs to go to the Darklands," she stated firmly.

Bedivere shook his head, absolute in his refusal to risk Arthur any more than they had already done so. "That's not happening," Bedivere argued, crossing his arms over his chest. There would be a fight in the future no doubt, Vortigern wouldn't give up his control of the throne easily, but there was no reason to tempt fate and risk Arthur now.

"He needs to take the sword to the tower," the mage said, going back to work on the herbs in front of her. Effectively ending the conversation.

Bedivere didn't take the dismissal. Instead, he stepped forward and crouched down close to the Mage. "Give me another way," he demanded. He couldn't send Arthur to that godforsaken place that all but guaranteed his death.