His Mage

Eight

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The next morning Arthur came up to the deck shortly after daybreak. He was still exhausted from staying up so late. His eyes traveled over to where The Mage stood at the bow of the boat. Her braid was coiled over her shoulder, and loose tendrils of her hair blew wildly around her face. The hood of her cloak was thrown back, and her cloak snapped in the sea breeze. He wondered if she had slept at all.

"Welcome to the darklands," Bedivere called as the island came into view.

Arthur turned away from The Mage and climbed up to where Bedivere stood. The higher vantage point gave a clear view of land ahead of them. "That's the Darklands?" he asked with a frown. It didn't look any different from the hundreds of other small islands they had passed. A bit rockier perhaps, but nothing to warrant an ominous name like The Darklands.

"That's the entrance," Bedivere told him.

Arthur squinted into the light and lifted his hand to block the sun. "So that's what all the fuss is about..." Arthur mutter dismissively.

Bedivere flashed a smile. "Don't worry, you will soon understand what all the fuss is about," he assured him. His cavalier tone belying the concern he had for Arthur's coming challenge. He still wasn't convinced this was the right course of action, but he trusted in Merlin, and Merlin trusted this Mage, so he would trust her.

Bedivere expertly navigated the shallow waters, avoiding the sharp rocks, that could have proven deadly to their small boat. As they entered the shallows he tossed an anchor overboard. Bedivere jumped down first, turning towards the trees a grim expression on his face. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, he was wary, but he didn't pull it.

Arthur followed, landing in the shallow water that reached his knees, soaking into his boots. He hesitated and glanced up at The Mage as she climbed over the railing, adjusting her skirts as she prepared to jump over the side of the boat. His gaze captured her's and she hesitated. He reached up, offering her help down.

She hesitated in surprise. She hadn't expected this, not really. She was no lady by the standards of his people's imagination, and she was certainly capable of jumping off a boat, but the look in the Born King's eyes as he held her gaze was like nothing she had ever encountered before. It made her stomach twist and her breath catch in her lungs. He was waiting for her, she realized, waiting for permission to touch her.

She nodded once, a curt jerk of her chin so he wouldn't suspect the effect he had on her; with his ego, he would be impossible if he knew. Once permission was given he stepped closer and closed his large hands around her slim waist. His fingers nearly touched as he lifted her down into the water like she weighed nothing.

Arthur could have kicked himself for giving himself permission to touch her. There was something about her that drew him in and it rode him hard enough to convince him to leave it alone. She was special in a way he barely understood. He lifted her, turning to set her in the shallower waters closer to shore, but he locked his eyes on the forest before releasing her. He didn't like the thick ominous feel of the forest and liked even less that she appeared to be unarmed. Bedivere stood between her and any potential danger, but he was taking no chances.

The Mage fought to save face and not let the Born King's actions distract her from why they were there. She took a centering breath and strode out of the water with her head held high. Bedivere gestured towards the forest and she nodded stepping into the lead. Arthur made a noise in the back of his throat but followed, stepping quickly so he was just off her shoulder.

She led the way through the forest. The standing stones called to her, guiding her. She stretched her senses out to them and the magical pull was as clear to her as any map. She led the way into a clearing deep within the forest. The magic pulsing beneath her feet was distracting. It burned along her skin like an itch and she had to lock down her emotions and her senses and force herself to think only of the task at hand.