Chapter 4

Merlin sat bolt upright in his bed. He could still hear the echoing cry of 'Noooooooo!' that had disturbed his sleep. The voice appeared similar to that which he had heard earlier and he hoped the boy hadn't already found himself in trouble.

The contact from Eoric had surprised him and the boy's emotional outburst as he defended his abilities had allowed Merlin to at last use his own powers to identify and locate him. The identification raised another problem for Merlin though. He couldn't possibly believe that Eoric was responsible for the sense of foreboding he had been feeling for some weeks now. He believed it highly unlikely that Eoric mentally looking over his shoulder at Arthur's funeral would have resulted in the evil signals he had sensed. That suggested that someone else was watching him too.

The wizard got out of bed and pulled a heavy cloak around his shoulders, shuffling over to sit in front of the fire once more. He peered deeply into the flames, letting his focus and mind drift away, as he tried to connect in some way with the boy. Nothing.

He made himself relax and felt his mind reaching out over the miles, searching for the thought patterns that he had picked up from Eoric earlier. Merlin was able to see the Scottish countryside below him as he mentally drifted westwards, the moonlight reflecting off of the many small lochs, rivers and streams.

"What are you searching for now, master?"

Merlin recognised the sweet feminine voice of Nimue, the beautiful Lady of the Loch. For some reason he sensed he shouldn't share any details of his current quest with his talented apprentice and he closed that part of his mind that had been searching for Eoric. To deflect any possible interest in the boy, he answered Nimue's question obliquely.

"I have sensed a dark presence for weeks now, Nimue and I am trying to identify who or what it is. I feel sure that it is somehow connected to Arthur's death," he said.

"But you must rest Merlin, you grow tired easily these days and must conserve your strength."

As Merlin heard her words he did indeed feel himself feeling very weary and he nodded to himself as he rose and shuffled back to his bed. He lay down and pulled the heavy blankets over him, falling asleep immediately.

In a cave deep under the Loch, Nimue sat looking into a glass ball, watching Merlin sleep. It amused her that such a powerful wizard was completely unaware that she was casting spells on him, simple woman's magic, but very effective it seemed. She had been able to dim the wizard's awareness and had been slowly leeching his strength away from him, even as he was teaching her his lore.

She glanced over the cave to where Excalibur stood upright, sunk deeply into the stone once more as it had been until Arthur had managed to withdraw it. No other mortal would ever be able to remove the sword she knew and it pleased her that one of her treasures was now safely back in her possession.

Eoric woke to find himself shaking. An owl screeched as it swooped through the trees and he felt its alarm as he connected with it. He smiled to himself as he read in the owl's head that it had actually been his own cry that had frightened the bird.

He turned his focus to his latest visions and pondered their importance. He had 'spoken' with Merlin and sensed that something was deeply troubling the wizard. Eoric also thought he had detected something not altogether wholesome within the wizard's mind, like some sickness was lodged there. He was annoyed that their conversation had been cut short, as he sensed Merlin had been about to share something important with him, something that might help to give him direction.

The scene where the druid appeared to be trying to drug King Eochaid in some way, was very disturbing. As Eoric recalled the detail of it, he decided this was the more important of the two visions and the one he needed to address first. He didn't know what the powder was that the druid had laced the drink with. Neither did he know whether the scene was one from the present or the future.

It was possible the drink could be poisonous however, and if there was still time to do something to stop the King from drinking it, then he had to try and do so.

Eoric leapt to his feet and wrapped his plaid around him as he set out once more for Dunadd. It was a cloudless night, which meant it was very cold, but the resulting moonlight helped him pick out his path southwards.

He was amazed at just how many creatures were out and about during the night. His connection with them helped inform him of what they were and that kept him happily occupied as he walked for mile after mile. He encountered several small herds of deer and numerous wildcats before he sensed a presence of a different kind.

He was passing what he could tell was a shepherd's hut and was aware of the man within, but also something else. This was something that defeated his attempts to read its mind so he was unable to say for sure what it was. There was something vaguely familiar about it though. It definitely wasn't the sheep; he could connect with them easily enough and could tell that something was beginning to alarm them.

"There are Bauchailleen at large."

Eoric heard his inner voice speak to him and immediately a picture of what the Bauchailleen were appeared in his head. With this knowledge he was able to pinpoint exactly where the little spirits were and could see the mischievous looks on their faces.

"We can deal with this easily. One of the main jobs of the Gruagach is to safeguard the herds from these brats. Here is what we need to do. Wait until they creep out into the field and then use your energy to freeze their feet to the soil. If you threaten to take their hats away they will promise to leave the sheep alone. It works for a couple of weeks and then they lose the fear and return to their pranks."

Eoric laughed to himself at the manner in which the Bauchailleen had to be dealt with. He wondered whether the fear of losing their hats was a vanity thing or whether the hats were somehow more important to their existence. He focussed his attention and at last saw five of the little faeries creep out into the field. The sheep immediately began to get restless as they sensed their presence.

He concentrated and began to direct the energy already present in the ground to move quickly and wrap itself around the feet of the Bauchailleen. There were yelps as they realised what was happening to them. They tried to leap backwards away from the energy surge, but already they were held fast.

Eoric made his way towards them and took in their frightened expressions and their distinctive red caps. The caps looked almost like upside down flowers, delicate and distinctive.

"What manner of man are you that can summon the energies of mother earth herself?" asked one of the Bauchailleen anxiously.

"That is for me to know, little one. Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take your hats from you for daring to play your games with this herd of sheep," Eoric replied.

This statement brought terrified groans and squeals from the Bauchailleen and one of them suddenly changed into a giant brown bear. The bear roared and swiped its claws in Eoric's direction, causing him to jump back in alarm. The sheep were by now running in a herd and throwing themselves at a stone wall at the end of their field, panic in their ranks.

"They are shapeshifters, ignore it and it will return to its normal appearance," Eoric's inner voice told him.

Eoric took the advice and advanced on the bear. As he got closer to it the shape shrunk until once more a smallish faery stood rooted to the spot in front of him. He reached out as if to remove the Bauchailleen's hat. The faery shied away from him and gave an almighty scream.

"Noooo, noooo, please! Don't take our hats. We promise to be good from now on, we promise to be good!"

The other faeries all nodded their heads in agreement at this promise of better behaviour and Eoric warned them he would be keeping an eye on them from now on. He 'unfroze' their feet and they scampered away as quickly as they could, holding onto their little red hats as they did so.

Eoric realised he had wasted time dealing with the Bauchailleen and he turned his face to the south once more, breaking into a measured run. He found that he could maintain a steady pace without feeling any fatigue or getting out of breath. He wasn't able to measure how far he had travelled, but he had in fact covered fifteen miles in just over two hours before he sensed the twinkling of a stream and he veered to the side to take a drink.

He realised how far he had come when he saw the shoreline at the very foot of Loch Awe in front of him. There were perhaps only another six or seven miles to the hill-fort at Dunadd and he debated with himself whether to carry on immediately.

He finally decided that speed was of the essence so began running again, quickly falling into the same measured stride that seemed to be so effective at eating up the miles.

King Eochaid had called all of his lieutenants together so that he could issue his orders to begin raising Dalriada's fullest strength.

"I want all of our able bodied men ready to strike at the Picts within the week," he said, "They must be taught a harsh lesson as to the cost of raiding in my lands!"

"But Sire, we are already committed to a raid into the lands of the Ui Neill in Ireland, to relieve our kinsmen in Antrim. And what of the harvest? If we don't gather in the grain it will be a harsh winter," said one of his chieftains.

"Dalriada comes first Domnall, we can send aid to Donachd once we have dealt with these Picts. If we are quick about it we should still be back at our hearths in time for the harvest I say!" replied the King.

"As you wish, Sire," Domnall responded, turning to leave the hall and begin his task.

"Gemma! Where are you girl, Gemma?" Eochaid called out.

A young girl appeared at his side, her long copper hair hanging almost to her waist and her green eyes sparkling with intelligence. Her skin was fair, but covered in freckles and her nose had a slight upturn at the tip. She curtsied to her father.

"You called me Sire?"

"Aye lass, I need some food, have something brought to me here," he ordered.

Eochaid turned as the head druid of the hill-fort touched his elbow and held out a goblet of ale.

"Drink this Sire, you have been on the go for some hours. I recommend food and then some rest. The drink will help you sleep," the druid said.

Gemma cast a glance at the druid, a look of suspicion on her face. The royal household were all confirmed Christians, but kept the druids around as they were still valuable because of their knowledge of plants and how they used that to treat ailments. Gemma did not trust them however, they seemed to her to always be creeping around on the edge of things, sticking their noses into everything. She wondered now at this apparent concern for the King's welfare on the part of this one, but shrugged it off as she headed for the kitchens.

Eochaid simply nodded and sat at a table to wait for his food. Gemma had returned within minutes, followed by a serving girl bearing a large platter of steaming hot beef. The beef was set in front of the king and he immediately began to tear pieces off of the bone with a small dirk, washing the meat down with the goblet of ale. He noticed a faint sharpness to the drink, which he assumed was the sleeping draught that the druid had mentioned.