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“Why?” Collin asked, rounding on the leprechaun.

“Lachlan, I swear, if you took the Avalon Diaries, I will conveniently forget about my vow of abstinence and I’ll send you to the highest, most precarious cliff in all of Avalon,” Molly threatened, moving toward Collin and Lachlan.

“Molly, my dear lass, I did nothing with the Avalon Diaries. I merely came here when I happened to peek into that man’s head there. I was as anxious as you to retrieve those diaries.

Why, there are Irish secrets hidden in them as well, and I wouldn’t be a good Irishman if I didn’t try to get them back. “ Lachlan’s face sobered, as he pulled out his Elvin pipe.

“I simply know that they aren’t there. You forget, Molly that we leprechauns are the best safe keepers in all of the worlds and I can’t sense any artifacts hidden behind that chunk of metal. Someone reached the diaries before we could and since this nabob was playing with you, he wasn’t around to catch the culprits. “ Lachlan crossed his arms, and glared at Collin, as Collin glared angrily back at him.

“I sense black sorcery. “ Morganna walked toward the safe, and held her hand out. Her flawless skin began crinkling, and her eyes lit with pink fire.

Instinctively, Molly summoned Anwyn forth, and Morganna followed by summoning her blade named for her childhood home of Tintagel Castle.

A bright flash of white illuminated the study, as if lightning had flashed outside of the window. As soon as Molly’s eyes adjusted from the blaring glare, she nearly dropped Anwyn at the sight that stood before her.

“Merlin,” she gasped, bowing her head in respect, as Morganna did the same.

“My Light Bearers, we have little time to waste. I have chosen the two of you, for reasons that will soon become clear. Trouble is brewing in Camelot. Lord Cardan has been released by these foolish mortals of the 21st Century. And now his followers will be restored to their full strength. Long ago, Lord Cardan and I battled, and I emerged the victor. I imprisoned him in my cave, and made sure that no one would disrupt it. But somehow, these men and women known as archeologists, broke through my spells, and unearthed Lord Cardan. They believed that he was a stone statue and brought him out into the open. Unfortunately, before I could reach Lord Cardan, he was released by the magic of the full moon. Its glow shone down upon him and turned him back to flesh and bone. “ Merlin breathed deeply locking his gaze upon Molly. “Lord Cardan is the one that stole the diaries from Collin and now he plans to use the information contained within to have his revenge. I have no doubt that Lord Cardan will use the secrets of the Avalon Diaries to ruin us all. And by doing so, the world as we know it will be forever changed. “

“But I never mentioned anything about Camelot,” Molly stuttered, not fully comprehending one word that Merlin spoke.

“You might not have, but I did. “ Morganna couldn’t seem to meet Merlin’s eyes. Her face filled with shame and her voice wobbled. “Oh, what have I done!” she wailed, her face blanching considerably.

“It will be as it once was, hold no fear, dearest Morganna,” Merlin murmured soothingly, resting his crystal blue eyes on Collin and Lachlan. “I have need of the two of you, as well.

Come, we must make haste. Molly, I will be transporting you and Morganna to a pivotal place in time,” Merlin began, ushering them all into a circle.

He stared at Molly and smiled fondly.

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“Daughter of my dearest Mildred and of my greatest friend, how good it is to see you well,” he murmured, gently caressing the side of Molly’s face.

“I’m not as well as I’d like to be,” Molly admitted.

Merlin bid them to clasp hands. Molly’s one hand grasped Merlin’s slim strong one, while her other hand grasped Collin’s large brawny one.

“Don’t we get to vote?” Collin asked in desperation, casting a confused glance toward Merlin.

“Do not worry, son, all will soon be well,” Merlin said reassuringly.

Streaks of brilliant light began to engulf the room. Molly had to close her eyes against it.

“That’s easy for you to say, but I was born in the 20th century, I won’t know what to do in the 6th century,” Collin called.

In an instant, they were engulfed by Merlin’s magic, and Collin’s protestation faded away.

The next moment, Molly’s world changed. No longer could she sense Collin. In fact, she could only sense Morganna; Lachlan and Merlin were nowhere to be found as well. The scent of battle clung to the air.

Molly could feel a warm steed beneath her bottom and her feet were planted firmly in the Elvin made stirrups. She swallowed thickly, and stared at the raging battle around her. Arthur and Morganna flanked her, and her eyes immediately fell on Adria, who was in the full heat of battle.

Her contemporary clothing had been replaced by her battle dress. She wore a long crimson colored cloak to keep her warm against the harsh winds from the sea, and her long cream colored dress was designed to not hamper her riding astride. Her legs itched as she felt the tight leggings she wore to protect not only her legs but to also keep her dignity in check while riding astride. Above her heart rested her father’s crest of the red dragon. A sign of his strength and a sign that she belonged to the legendary Pendragon bloodline. Her hair was tightly braided and hung out of her way on her back.

Her mouth went dry, memories of the past washed over in almost suffocating waves.

Tears welled in her eyes. She was so distracted, that she momentarily forgot that she too was embroiled in the battle against the forces from the East.

It was the Battle of Mount Badon, and if she remembered correctly, she was just about to be attacked by a dark rider.

She swung Anwyn, but in her mind-numbing confusion, she was a stroke late. She gasped in pain, as the dark rider’s poisoned blade plunged into her side. Damn chain mail, didn’t even take the brunt of the blow.

She heard someone’s animalistic cry, but her vision grew blurry, and she slumped forward onto Wind Spirit.

Even though searing agony clouded her concentration, she managed to sheathe Anwyn, as her father’s grief-stricken cry tore through the battle to reach her ears. Staring down at herself, through her haze of pain, she saw her own crimson blood gushing across her cream colored gown.

Her blood matched the Welsh Red Dragon that was emblazoned on her dress above her heart. The weight of the Celtic Cross she wore on her neck suddenly felt overwhelming. She moaned, and her head lolled against Wind Spirit’s white mane, as her faithful horse let out a worried neigh.

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She had failed Merlin. As she remembered the Battle of Mount Badon, she’d saved her father and his knights, and ridden with her father and her own Lady Knights unscathed back to Camelot.

It had been a victory march, but now, she feared she would never see it as it was meant to be. She had muddled it all up.

She’d failed Merlin, and in doing so, her worst fear had come to pass. Blood continued to gush from the deep wound, as she let out a helpless moan. She was fighting falling unconscious, but she was so weary. She felt as weak as she’d ever been.

“Mama,” she whispered plaintively, as her eyelids began drooping.

The last sight she saw, before she gave in to the darkness was a blade arcing toward her.

But strangely enough, she didn’t feel any fear, only a soothing contentment, as she was lulled to sleep by an ancient lullaby that her mother had sung to her when she was little.

Besides, she wasn’t mortally wounded, she wasn’t going to die, because if she did, everything would change, and she wasn’t sure if it would be for the better. She was bound and determined to fight the Angel of Death, and she’d win, because well, she always did.

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Molly fought her way to the surface. It was a struggle the likes of which she’d never faced. Her entire body felt heavy. To make matters worse, she felt as if someone was sitting on her head. She had never been this gravely injured before, and she couldn’t say that she cared for the resulting effects. Her chest caved. With one shuddering breath, she gasped for more air.

Sweat beaded across her forehead in tiny driblets. Pain edged through her entire body.

Sleepiness tugged at her, but she knew almost instinctively that if she gave into the drugged sensation she would never awaken. Perspiration soaked through her clothes coupled with her hot sticky blood. Tiredness continued clawing at her. She wanted a hot bath, and then a cup of soothing hot tea. After that, the only thing she wanted was her bed and Collin in it.

Startled by such a naughty thought, her eyelids fluttered open and jolting realization ran through her, as she met her father’s anxious bluish-grey gaze. It had not been a nightmare. It was real. Merlin had transported them to the past, and she had screwed up the timeline. What would happen now that she’d fallen at the hands of a Dark Rider?

A cry formed in her throat but she strangled it as she met her father’s tortured gaze. She had to hold on. The future depended upon it.

Hoofbeats thundered around her and she knew then, that the rocking sensation she felt was her father’s horse Llamrai, as it carried them across the rough-hewn landscape. The sun was rising, and she could feel the heat of it on her war-painted cheeks.

The wetness she felt was her own sweat, and blood. She felt confused, as she continued to burn up, and she wondered if she was losing her grasp on reality. Images flashed through her mind. The ability to distinguish between all of them made her heartsick. She knew she was back in her father’s golden age. Knew it. Now all she had to do was hold on to that thought before she lost all sense of her self.

“Take me to hospital,” she muttered. Her mouth had become terribly dry, and she felt as if her tongue had been switched with a strip of sandpaper. Her father frowned down at her. His eyes flickered with fear. Fear? Her father couldn’t be afraid. Everyone knew he was a fearless man.

“I’m taking you back to Tintagel. “ His voice was raw with emotion. She swallowed.

He took one gloved hand and smoothed her soaking hair off of her forehead. A shiver tore through her at the sensation of his gentle touch. She’d almost forgotten the way her father’s touch felt. Feeling it again was bittersweet. Someone had taken her battle helmet off and her hair hung in a thick plait down her back. She tightened her grasp around her father’s midsection. Violent tremors rocked through her body. What was happening to her? Her vision faltered. Closing her eyes, she opened them again expecting to be met with a cold darkness.

Instead, her eyes once again found her father’s. Tears welled in his eyes. Heartburn raged through her chest. Her heart drummed against her ribcage.

“Collin. “ Her voice trailed off. She gasped against another wave of pain. The pain seemed to engulf all of her senses. Arthur ripped off his glove, and pressed his bare hand to Molly’s forehead.

“She’s raging with fever,” he gasped, as Morganna brought her horse up beside Arthur’s.

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“Damn you, Merlin,” Morganna cried, shaking her fist up at the dawn. “Allow me to use my magic, and take her to Avalon,” Morganna offered. At her suggestion, Arthur’s eyes flashed angrily. A chord snapped within Molly. In one blinding flash, she had detached her spirit form from her body. She let out a rush of air, as the shroud of pain still gripped at her. This could only mean one thing. Her heart still beat within her chest. Morganna’s eyes fluttered to where Molly’s astral form fluttered above her father. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she saw Morganna nod her head in silent understanding.

If Morganna told Arthur that her spirit was drifting then he would become even more alarmed. Why upset him further when Molly still had a chance to live? It didn’t make sense, and Molly couldn’t serve that cruel of a blow to her father. If she did die…well…he’d have to survive that.

“Nay. She shall be healed at Tintagel,” he insisted. They rode with such abandoned fury that sweat drenched Llamrai’s flanks.

“Tintagel is too far, brother,” Morganna, argued, scowling furiously at Arthur. “Do not think your healers shall be able to heal Mary. It will not happen. In this day in age, wounds as severe as hers do not heal. Your healers will merely stitch her up, but they will have nothing to combat the vicious poison that has ebbed into her system. That is what is making her waste away. You must listen to me, Arthur. Do not risk Molly’s life by putting her in their barbaric hands!” Warmth surged through Molly’s heart at the sincere emotion she heard in Morganna’s voice. Morganna and she rarely saw eye-to-eye but the way that Morganna campaigned for her in her time of need, proved that deep down she cared for Molly.

They finally approached the fortification of Tintagel Castle, and Arthur let out a long rush of relieved air. The stonewall that the Roman’s had erected long ago, still stood along the border of Tintagel. Inside, there lived a vast assortment of people: baseborn and highborn were all included into Arthur’s grand kingdom. Even now, the watch guard had spotted Arthur’s troop, and in particular, Arthur himself.

Cries of, “The king approaches,” echoed throughout the kingdom and carried out to Molly on the wind. She stared at the glowing lifeline that tethered her to her own body. Biting her lip, she could only pray that her father would heed Morganna’s well-placed advice.

* * * *

Arthur clutched Molly’s now limp body against his chest and briefly glanced down into her glorious brown eyes that mirrored Queen Mildred’s. Mildred was his true love, and though he held a certain fondness for Queen Gwen, his heart would never cease in its fervent and true love for Molly’s mother. Many men and women alike speculated that he had scads of bastards spread out across Cornwall, Lothian, Wales and Lyonesse, but they were all wrong. The only woman that he had ever cared for was Mildred, and she and Gwen were the only two women that had ever shared his bed. No matter what the ballads said about him, passion ran through his blood. Passion for the women that shared his bed, passion for a sense of honor and justice and most of all, the chaste passion he held concerning his only child. Come what may, he would not let Molly die. No matter what, he would protect and love her until his dying breath. Never had he felt such an all-consuming pain than when he had seen her struck by that blasted dark rider.