The blade was coming, inches from his head, and the flame knew him. It blossomed over his skin, crawling, biting. It would kill him—that ending redness. Move, Merrin! Move Mist it!
Something stirred in the distance—a light, near illusory. But he saw it: A horse of brilliant white hues, majestic, on it, a rider watched from a cliff at the further walls. That rider, a man, was splendorous, bright-haired, a starkness to the red beast. White servs swayed around him, attracted.
Who?
Move! A voice whispered within, sweet, a soft, sonorous tone. Then came the wind. Abruptly, he was pushed back, the giant sword smashing into the stone floor, caving in. He was thrown ahead, further from the giant red beast—it watched him, fury in eyes. Too was Catelyn and Yoid.
The wind carried them all.
Instantly before the wanted awareness, they rolled through the air, landing feet-first on the end of the stone bridge. An ovate door before them, dark, the same as the other. Catelyn knelt, quivering.
Merrin experienced a similar state, but could not drown in it. Not now. He turned, saw the beast, far, yes, but it moved. Fiery. Its steps resounded through the cavernous mountain, a herald of some damnation.
He said to Yoid. "We need to move!"
And so they did, into the dark tunnel. Similarly, the internality mirrored the tumultuous state within—broken glass, charred wood, broken statues. There was true darkness here. Merrin attempted the light spillage, couldn't.
There was a chaotic disruption within—the radiance blinked, unstable—another parallel to his internal self. What was that? Who was that? How!!!!
His mind was a thing of flux nature, bouncing, unfocused. Body, desire piloted. The want to find safety. He still heard it—the closing pounding, the heat. The beast was coming.
Talemir, Yoid called it. How did he know? Merrin followed the Yoid chosen paths, somehow he was leading them further, safely. How was he doing that? Luck?
Regardless, there was a need to rely on it. And so he did.
They turned a corner, another, another, another.
Somehow, the grim steps sounded distant.
Yoid stopped, said, "Open that door!" There was urgency in his tone.
Merrin was prompted by it; he moved past him, observed the cradled Catelyn, and found the dark metal door rusted. They existed now in a narrow corridor, wall close, tight even.
Is this another path? He wondered, channeled that awesome power, and pounded on the door. Wind howled, and the metal flew out in a violent burst. Stone rolling down from the door slit.
"Get in," Yoid said, tone commanding.
Merrin moved in, stopped. Within was an oval chamber, a hole ahead, and stone scattered at its base. There was familiarity in that. "Wait…This is the…"
He forced calmness, burned the other force. The serenity pressed in, raying white light across the dark chamber. The awareness extended. "This is the place I awoke in!"
"Then this place is a loop," Yoid said, then demanded. "Seal the wall. We can't have those things coming here!"
A need for further mentation remained; however, there was a necessity. Merrin sped, lifted the scattered stones, and fitted them into a discordant arrangement. Soon, a makeshift wall was raised.
He stepped back, watched, turned, eye met the high stele. Catelyn wanted to read that. Was it her fortune that we returned here?
"Is she okay?" He said, rooted in the center of the room. For precise lightening.
Yoid placed her on the broken metal door. For the hole, he built an improvised wall, as he did.
"She just needs some rest," He added.
Merrin found peace in that and relished it. "So what now?" He asked.
Yoid glanced at him, smiled. "I read that, of course." He pointed at the monolith.
"What?" The words came unhinged. "You can read Old Tongue?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Experience."
What did that mean? Merrin was confounded, but sensed the questions were an infiltration of sorts. Not now. He had things he needed to think about. Those required full cogitation, and a suitable high stone. Thankfully, one close by served the other purpose.
He sat, closed his eyes, and breathed. The corollary effect of the flames lingered, throat ached, dry, stinging. It could have been worse, he noted, discovered the high domed ceilings—so far, so dark.
How are the witnesses doing?
Almighty! He wrapped his head. What was that? How are they supposed to survive that? How was one to endure the fire? How was he?
It was exhausting—the constant weakness. Terror after terror. Danger after danger. Could this world ever be safe enough for his people? Was that desire a thing of naivety, faulted from the beginning?
Why couldn't it just be easy? Merrin dragged his palm across his face. "I hate this!" His words bounced over the room, ringing.
Yoid regarded him. "The silence is better. I doubt we have truly escaped that."
Merrin met his gaze, said, "How….How did you even know what that was?"
"It's not particularly hidden knowledge," he said, "These things are commonly known to the brightCrowns."
"brightCrowns, not you." Merrin leaned forward, "What. What are you, a brightCrown?"
"Do I happen to have white hair?"
"I don't know." Merrin stroked his hair. "Anything can be anything."
"Not always. Not everything." Yoid said, then, "As per your question, that was a telemir. Though I wonder how long it has been done there?"
"It's a fallen?"
"Oh no." He smiled, "That was not a fallen. It absolutely has no connection to the things of ruin. I suppose theirs a goodness to that, to know humans, too, could become the vilest of monsters."
Merrin perked. "Humans?"
"You didn't know?" He glanced at Catelyn. "Why would she keep that a secret?"
Merrin frowned. Did Catelyn know or not?
Yoid beamed. "Regardless a Telemir, I suppose, is a natural consequence of failed fusion or more like uncontrolled fusion."
Mentation stopped. "What?"
"Ah, symbols, ones here are rather odd. They might latch onto a caster, forcing themselves in. In such a situation, a Caster, if proven weaker, might become a failed fusion of symbol and man. A monster. That one, that Talemir, likely is a blend of fire and a caster."
Merrin sealed his eyes. What did I expect…just more danger.
Yoid said, "You should be careful. If you die, then who would save your people?"
"I thought you called us delusional. The ultimate lie."
He chuckled. "Don't know. Curiosity? But your death might…be bad."
Merrin flinched. "That's a nice lie."
"It would, if it were one." He glanced at the stele. "You know, I knew someone like you at some point. A maytr."
Why does everyone keep calling me that? "Who was he?"
"Here, his story." He stroked the brittle stele. "Another of the shaedoran was known as the leader. The white one, he was called."
Merrin found interest. Wait, is he reading from the stele? He thought, but he said this was his friend.
"Wait, who is this frie—"
Yoid smiled, said, "And he was the El'shadie."
That froze reasoning. El? El'shadie? What? How? He? How? No! Wait. How does he know? Who told him? Catelyn? No. She didn't know…Wait…How? He heard the internal pounding reverberating through his body. Hand trembled. Breath escaping in a strong panting.
How did he know?
"Calm yourself!"
A word, then.
Something wrapped itself around his heart. He felt it. A cold sense that sparked a certain strength. A mental power. In a moment, he forced serenity into himself. It was not external; he did that.
"What did you?"
Yoid sighed. "This is not ideal, is it?"
Merrin attempted to speak.
"Don't worry." Yoid stayed his palm. "It's my turn to speak now…Yes, I know you are El'shadie. I always did, or maybe I smelled it. Just wanted to confirm it. I must say, the amount of force you exude in mere casting is…much. For a simple acolyte at least."
He knows too much, Merrin thought, yet could not feel the adequate motions. There was no worry, just a burning strength of courage and repose.
Yoid considered him. "Hey, don't be afraid. I don't mean you any harm." He said, "I never did. If that were fallacious, I would have left you to die, wouldn't I?"
"Yes?"
"As I said, I know him." He pointed at the stele.
"Who are you?"Merrin wrenched those words.
"I'm the companion." He cocked his head—a certain look of confusion. "Don't you know this?"
"Know what?"
"Didn't that bird tell you?"
He trembled, but again that power quelled that, enforcing stillness.
Yoid smiled. "Don't worry, that's why I am here. That's why I'm always here."
"You know the El'shadie."
"Yes, I do." Yoid said, "What have I done except protect you? I kept Kzeith away from you. I gave you food. I have risked my life for you….I am your companion."
"Why?" Mental procession still felt like gum to wood.
"The first made me promise. He was amazing that one. Bright. Beautiful, amazing."
"Who?"