“I saw it again now.”
“That conversation was real. Guinevere finally let you go. I didn’t think she would. I thought she was going to run, but then she didn’t. I transported both of us to a cave, hidden beneath this very castle, its only physical entry through an opening in the cliff, perched high above the rocky beach and ocean below. It was a place I knew no man would ever venture and of which Morgaine was unaware.
“I cast a protection spell around the cave to prevent Morgaine from using her powers to find you. For the next several days, I used my magic and watched as everything else in my vision came to fruition. Arthur died in battle the day after I had taken you from Guinevere. The Queen was captured, taken away, and imprisoned. Morgaine, herself, delivered the news to Guinevere that Arthur was dead. Stricken with grief, she refused to eat or drink anything, and died within a few days of the King.
“Their bodies were secretly taken to Avalon, to be laid in peace together, by the last few surviving knights loyal to King Arthur. The Circle of Knights disbanded and most disappeared into history, save for three.”
“The three who wrote the Charter and Oath of Regents?” Marc asked.
“Yes. The first child born to one of the three was said to have been the first Regent. I believe her name was Eira.”
“It was,” Trystan said.
“Morgaine attempted to claim Excalibur from the field where it lay fallen from Arthur’s hand, but the moment she touched it, the sword disappeared, returned to its protector by the magic held within the weapon itself. Without the sword, she could not claim the throne. Her rage consumed her, and she banished her army and vanished.
“I attempted to use my powers to find Morgaine but was unsuccessful. The only thing for certain was that she could not claim the throne as long as you were alive. In an effort to safeguard Camelot’s future, I cast a spell over the castle, dismantling it so that it would appear as ruins to the rest of the world until the time finally came for its resurrection.”
Emrys stopped and took another deep breath. Trystan could see the pain in his eyes as he relived the events of the past.
“How is it there are stories of a true heir returning if no one knew I existed?”
“Lancelot. As part of the ruse to hide you, he was entrusted with the knowledge of your existence. As one of the three surviving knights, Lancelot had written into the Charter and Oath of Regents that the true heir would one day return and that the ruling regent must willingly relinquish their power to the one who wields the Sword of Kings.”
A moment of silence fell over them.
“So, how is it I’m only twenty years old? I’m not… immortal, am I?”
“No. You’re not. But I am. When I said time was the other cost… I had to put you under an un-aging slumber spell. For every year you slept, I too had to sleep.”
“But if you’re immortal, what is time to you?” Marc asked.
“It’s not the time itself. It’s the inability to do anything else during that time. If the guardians had been called upon to protect the earth—and as I understand, they were—I would not have been able to help. Being one of the most powerful guardians, you can understand the risk it posed.
“I would have to wait for Trystan to awaken and break the spell. Nothing else would have been able to awaken me. With a slumber spell, there is always something—an event of sorts—that undoes the magic. Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing what the event was or when exactly it would occur.
“We had a thousand years to wait. I had no choice. I took the risk. You awakened, nearly a thousand years later, just after the Summer Solstice in the year 1471.”
“That’s interesting,” Marc said. “That’s when I was born.”
“Fate chose you for a purpose,” Emrys responded. He shifted his attention back to Trystan. “After you awoke, I searched for and found you a good home and loving family where I knew you would be safe. I’ve spent my life since watching over you. Protecting you.”
Emrys sat quiet for a few minutes, staring into the fire. He waved a hand, stoking it. The flames danced higher.
Marc looked at Trystan. “What about him?” He glanced over at Emrys. “If Arthur was half-guardian, what does that make Trystan?”
Emrys pressed his lips into a thin line. He looked at both of them with brooding green eyes.
“He is also half-guardian, and a very powerful one at that.”
“Does he have any special abilities?” Marc asked.
“Yes. He—”
Trystan cut him off. “I can heal.” He looked at Emrys with questioning eyes.
“Yes. You can.” His words dropped off. “But healing is your secondary ability. And, by far, not your strongest.”
“Then, what is it that makes me so—” He almost struggled to say the word. “Powerful?” In some ways, he couldn’t believe the question that just escaped his lips. In other ways, deep down, it almost felt… normal.
