It’s Merlin Memory Month! Today, day 7, follows path one. And finally, Merlin shows up >.<
You might want to read a few other parts first. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
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News from the front came daily, and it was never good.
Essetir kept losing ground to Camelot, giving up land and villages to knights in red. Ealdor found its crops taken for the war effort, as well as its herbalist.
When they took him away, Hunith did her best to take up the post. Moved into his house. Read his books. Gathered the herbs she could.
She didn’t worry about Essetir’s knights dragging her to the front lines because no one would do that to a pregnant woman.
“You should be resting, not working,” Comwell said as he walked into the one-room home, baskets of herbs hanging from his right arm.
Hunith sent him a glare from where she sat with a young girl, wrapping her bloodied and blistered hands. With the men gone, they had pulled everyone they could into the field, even girls as young as seven. Her hands would be harshly callused before she was ten and the thought made Hunith’s stomach clench.
“I’m not doing anything strenuous,” Hunith told her old knight. “And have you seen Myddeth? She’s in the field harvesting what she can and she’s due in two weeks.”
Hunith finished wrapping the girl’s hand, patted the bandages, and sent her out the door. Only then did she give Comwell the glare she’d been wanting to.
“You can’t let our history judge what I can’t and can’t do. Yes, princesses do nothing but sit and eat while pregnant. But I’m not one anymore.”
Comwell sighed, already starting on tying up the bundles of herbs so they could dry. “I will always worry about you, Hunith.”
“I appreciate that, Comwell, but it’s not needed. Lynette fusses too. And I like the work, it makes me feel less separate from the village.”
Because it’d be obvious when they all arrived that Hunith and her party weren’t pheasants. Chainmail and horses, fine cloth and smooth hands. They’d managed to keep the secret that Hunith was Gedref’s sole remaining royalty. Instead, Ealdor believed her the daughter of a rich Gedref merchant who’d managed to escape Uther’s slaughter.
The town had slowly opened up to the three of them, but they’d been slowly accepted. Hunith’s new role as healer and Comwell’s status as the sole man helped greatly. Lynette’s own sewing skills had been less well received, but an extra set of hands was an extra set of hands.
Comwell hmmm, finishing up the hanging. “Have you heard from Balinor?”
Hunith paused in cleaning up her work area. As soon as she realized she was carrying, she’d tried to send a message to Balinor. It’d been months and she hadn’t heard from him. Or Subarra or Sir Lore.
She told herself it was because the letter got lost. The Essetir messenger she sent it with killed. Hunith refused to think of other reasons.
“No,” she told Comwell. “I have not heard from him.”
####
War came closer and closer to Ealdor and the conversation in town turned to thoughts of leaving. Ealdor used to be near the middle of the country, now it was but a half day’s ride from Camelot’s southern border.
Essetir was losing, and soon they would all be in danger.
“How well can you ride?” Lynette asked, bringing Hunith a cup of water.
“I have trouble standing up, Lynette. Besides, on what horse? The king claimed ours for the war.”
“We could buy Simmons’s.”
“No.” Hunith shot her former maid a disappointed look. “He needs that horse. All of Ealdor needs that horse.”
Lynette sighed. “The war is almost here, and you know what the rumors say the Camelot knights are doing. Burning towns. Murdering those who try to stop it. Ealdor isn’t safe anymore.”
“It’d be hard to find a place that is,” Hunith answered.
She should know. With Uther’s attention towards the war with Essetir, those with magic still left in Camelot had snuck out of the kingdom. As a princess, she had directed magical refugees south. As a herbalist knowing Carmarthen had closed it’s borders, all she’d been able to do was patch up their wounds, give them a place to sleep, and mention towns looking for able bodies. If you could work, most places didn’t care where you came from.
As always, she told them to hide their magic. Essetir might have accepted it, but opinion was shifting. Despite having magic on their side, the kingdom was losing. Magic’s trickery, of course. Uther, the rumors said, might have had the right idea.
“I lost Gedref,” Hunith quietly admitted. “I fled my home. Ealdor is just starting to feel like my second home. I don’t want to lose it too.”
“And your child?” Lynette asked. “It’ll have a better chance of living away from the fighting.”
“Not if I give birth while we’re on the road. We have a small store of things here. A forest to forage from if need be. There’s no guarantee of that if we move.” Hunith turned her gaze on Lynette, drawing on her old regal energy. “We’re staying.”
Lynette curtseyed and walked out of the hut.
####
Hunith woke in the night to the sound of someone breaking into her house.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
In answer, a small glowing orb of white light lite the room. The light hovered over the palm of a brunette haired woman, her fine dress in tatters and lips so red Hunith was sure they were bleeding.
“Did you need help going south?” Hunith asked. Grunting, she turned to swing her legs off the bed.
“No,” the woman said.
Hunith paused. She stared at the woman and the woman stared back.
“I wanted to see you,” she said, “not because I need your help, but because you have helped my kind and I wanted to thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome,” Hunith said. Something about the woman unnerved her. She radiated power unlike anyone Hunith had felt in over a year.
“But now that I’m here, something else has caught my attention.” The woman walked closer to Hunith, eyes flickering to her belly.
Alarmed, Hunith crossed her arms over the baby.
The sorceress laughed. “I will not harm him. I cannot harm him. That is not his destiny.”
Frowning, Hunith looked down at her belly. “I’ll have a son.”
“Oh, yes.” The woman sat down on the bed next to Hunith. She reached to touch Hunith’s pregnant belly but paused until Hunith gave her a nod. Her hand on Hunith’s belly was warm and tingly.
“You son,” the woman continued, “is destiny-touched. More than you, more than any I have seen Albion claim.”
Hunith sucked in a deep breath. She didn't want a destiny-touched son. She wanted him to have a peaceful life.
"Your husband's destiny," the woman went on, "Was wrapped in doom. He helped bring all this to past. But your son, oh he glows. He will lift us all up. And for that, I'll help."
The sorceress stood and Hunith wrapped her arms around her belly. She wanted to hug her son and at the same time shield him from the woman standing two feet away.
"Tomorrow," the woman said, "the tide of the war will switch. Essetir will win. And your son will be able to start the life he was meant for."
Then she was gone.
###
Three days later, Lynette burst into the herbalist hut, chest heaving. “Hunith!”
“I’m fine,” Hunith said from her chair by the hearth.
“Are you sure?” Lynette came in and started checking Hunith’s vitals. “Surely you felt that. The drain. Even if you’re okay, the baby?”
Hunith grabbed Lynette’s hand and placed it on the left side of her extended belly. “Feel.” From within, her son kicked.
Lynette sagged in relief. “When I felt someone pulling power from the earth, I was so worried. If they’re not careful, they can pull new life too.”
Hunith hummed. She hadn’t told her former maid or knight about the midnight visit from the sorceress. She hadn’t wanted to worry her friends. Now though, she suspected the woman was Nimueh herself. A High Priestess, highly trained and invested in Hunith’s son being born healthy.
“I’m fine. And, and Merlin is too.”
“Merlin?” Lynette looked up from Hunith’s belly to Hunith’s face. “You have a name?”
“I’m very certain he will be a son.” Hunith smiled.
“And why Merlin?”
“The birds have always been a symbol of prestige and authority, have they not? Belonging only to nobility. I, I can’t name him after my brother or father. It would be too obvious. But I can name him after the creatures that brought us all together and feature in my happy memories.”
Lynette sniffed. “It’s a fine name.”
With a soft smile, Hunith patted the side of Lynette’s cheek. “No go back to the fields. I’m sure there’s work for you.”
Lynette shook her head. “Large portions of our young crops have died, fuel for the spell cast not an hour ago. The harvest this year was already going to be small, but now it will be even worse.”
###
A week later, while Hunith screamed with labor pains, news came to Ealdor. The war was over a mysterious woman with great magical powers having sided with Essetir. No one knew her name, though Nimueh was whispered in the rumors, and she had disappeared after Camelot had agreed to terms.
Camelot kept it’s won land, having stolen almost half of Essetir’s. But it was required to share half of its harvest for the next year with the now smaller kingdom – a stipulation all assumed the sorceress would enforce.
What Hunith, Comwell, and Lynette waited for, the arrival of their friends, never came.
After the first three months of Merlin’s life, nursing him while looking out the window, Hunith gave up looking.
