Thaumaturgy

Chapter 7

Morgana stood in a darkened field, the midnight sky as black as pitch, she looking arund her: something was coming, the air vibrated with its anticipation. She could feel in the air. a rushing of air went past her making her raven hair fly about, tangling and twirling about itself, and in the distance there was a rushing ound, hushed and quiet, but deadly. They she saw it, a tidal wave stretching as far as the eye could see along the horizon, the water wall was coming to cover everything and destroy it. The Seer cried out and ducked as if to protect herself, but then the sound was gone with a whisper, and the sky began to rain instead. She looked up, there was a strange metal smell in the air: the rain was blood. She cried in alarm and in a flash of pure white light, the filed changed, she was back in Ealdor, and it was quiet. To quiet. As she looked around she noticed bodies, everywhere bodies, littering the ground like leaves fallen from a tree in the dead of winter. and there was only one face on them. It was Dirk. Dir was going to die. Suddnely: a sound pierced the minty air, the high whinny of a screaming horse cutting through the desolatation.

"Gwen!" Morgana cried as she at up in bed suddenly, gasping for air with wild eyes. Gwen came into the room in a apnic.

"Morgana! what's whrong? it was just a dream!" She reassuered her firend gentley.

"It was Dirk, he was...hee was...!"

"It's okay morgana it's a dream, Dirk is fine, he went out with Merlin yesterday, the should be back soon."

"I must see him." Morgana got out of her bed and got dressed in a long lilac gown made of delicate flowing silk and gossamer. The boddice was tightly laces by magic and bordered by an intricate beaded pattern showing lilies; Morgana's favourite flower. The dress was corested and had long flowing sleeves, many shades of puryple, and a train that dragged on the ground serenely behind her whan she walked. It made her look like the witch she was.

She left the house alone, shivering at the chill morning and also at the grey misty that swatched the village in hazy soft light. it was just like her vision she noticed, in a pang of fear. The village was silent and calm, the grass was sprnkled with cool early morning dew that dampened her toes with wetness, but then, in the distance, she herd the rythmic sound of horses hooves in the ground, a distant thudding. She gasped and strained her eyes to see through the mist, and slowly thee horses came into view.

"Dirk?" She whispered to herself, but at the horse drew closer, she saw it was not Dirk. Gwain, Will and Lancelot had returned alone. She rushed up to them , flowing parts of her gossomer gown trailing behind her as she ran and bare feet bearly touching the ground, a desperate cry on her porcalin face.

"Where's Dirk?" She asked Gwaine, grabbing hold of his stong leg, which swung from the horse's flank as he rode on the horse back as soon as he was close enough.

"Where's Dirk? He's in danger!!" she screamed sadly. Gwain frowned and got off his horse in concern, swinging a muscular leg over the horses back and lowering himself to the ground carefully; avoiding Morganas gentl efeet. He held her elbows and spoke into her face in the voice he used to calm upset young colts.

"MErlin took his back to the tree hose he's fine, what hapened? Did you have a vision?" He asked gently, running his hands down the witches ensleenved arms until he was holding Morgana's gracefully hands as she grabbed at his desperately. They were ice cold.

"Yes, Dirk was hurt he was dead! We need to stop it!!" she wailed, in detress. Gwaine and Lancelot shard a look. This was serious. The bandits, led Morgoana back into her house, gently, Laneclot's face lighting up as he saw Gwen waitging there. And together they sat at Morgana's table and begun to plan.