Lestra saw clearly now what she only suspected, for as Nyla responded to The Mist of Time, she moved somewhat closer to Ysbrand. More confirmation. Ysbrand never flinched or tried to move away.
Glynt paused a moment. His eyes never straying from the distant point they seemed to be seeking. Then the resonant voice returned. "Cian O'Heaghra, what do you seek?"
Cian lowered his head. "A village that will find me worthy of their trust."
Glynt answered, "Then leave this island and go back to your home. The man you are today is needed. You have learned well the lessons of the test." Tears nearly came to Cian's eyes, but at the very last minute he drew them back so that no one noticed. He felt a tugging at his shirt. It was Feimar. "Will you take me there with you?"
"Of course, young one. If you truly want it," said Cian. The scotsman saw Feimar's head nod enthusiastically. "Then it will be so," said Cian.
Glynt shifted position though still looking beyond the village. "Kyrin, those you seek are few in number and live in a remote place between the world of man and the ancient world of your kind. Look for it in the dark forests of the land beyond the Eastern Channel. You will find it where all roads lead equally distant in all directions. It is called the middle of all places. They are there. Glynt shall show you the way, for he is one of them too, though not of your kind." Kyrin was surprised by the sudden breeze that came up. It caught her hair and in a strong updraft raised her red tresses well over her ears to reveal...
All were suprised by the lovely contour of her ears that began rounded as all ears do at the base, but curved in an elegant way that culminated at their zenith in a sculpted point. They realized then what Jayhawk knew all along, Kyrin was of the legendary race called Elfin, perhaps one of the few left of her kind. Then Glynt must be a dwarf they concluded, for he knew where to guide the elfin maiden. But what of Arithmial?
The Mist answered their unspoken question. "Will you accompany Kyrin and Glynt, Arithmial? Do you know the reason I ask?"
"Yes, I do know. I am of both worlds. My father of the Elfin and my mother like the others here. One world is dying while the other is growing without restraint. There must be a conjoining in order for the old world to live on in some fashion."
Glynt responded, "That is correct." Arithmial looked directly at Kyrin. "I shall be happy to be at her side, that is, if she will permit me to accompany her to her world." Kyrin, in the Elfin way, neither smiled nor frowned. She communicated acceptance by not protesting. It was an indicator of growing closeness that Arithmial understood what was left unsaid. He was content.
A voice, tinged with urgency and immediacy, interrupted the quiet. "But what of the Cauldron, Master! We must have the Cauldron to save ourselves!" cried out a frustrated Talisien.
Glynt turned himself in the old wizard's direction. "Does he not know, Jayhawk, about what is to be?" The Mist seemed to know Jayhawk and to speak to him with a degree of familiarity never observed before.
"I did not think it right for me to tell him in your place," said Jayhawk, briefly bowing his head in recognition.
"I see. Then he doesn't perceive what the Cauldron truly represents," said Glynt.
"No, I think not."
"Talisien, the Cauldron is the source of conflict, not a protector. You see how you battle over the object and how it brought all of you here to compete for it, fight for it... maybe even kill for it? Your world is changing. You must cooperate to survive. The Cauldron gives hope only to those who wish to combat change. There is a true Conqueror who will come. The Conqueror's name will not be Saxon or Angle, not Pict, Scot or Celt, nor Brit. Ysbrand knows who it shall be and knows why change must come; and he has learned the dangers of conquest and its final reward."
Ysbrand looked across towards Talisien, a man heretofore he saw as an enemy. "His name is William of Normandy. I learned this during my test. We have no chance to defeat him if we fight among ourselves. There must be unity. I shall say this to Hengist and to Horsa." Here Ysbrand hesitated. For all he knew Horsa may be dead. He felt sorrow for Hengist, but still, he decided then and there, the Cauldron must stay hidden.
The Mist of Time spoke through Glynt. "Talisien, you must find a boy, one who is worthy. It is no matter whether he be Angle, Saxon or any other tribe. Find him and nurture him. Give him the knowledge he shall need. There will come a test I will set for him in his own land, not in this island. You will know it is the test when you hear of it. The times are changing, Talisien, and so must you. Henceforth you are Merlin, and I set this challenge upon Merlin: Find the boy who will unify the land and guide him to his destiny."
The voice became more resonant, louder, more pervasive as the mist thickened considerably. "The Cauldron shall not be hidden again; it shall be no more!" Flames leapt high into the air from all sides of the bonfire. Surprised and slightly frightened, those nearest to the bonfire stepped back to avoid the effects of the heat. The flames continued to rise upwards totally engulfing the Cauldron in their firey grasp.
The walls of the Cauldron began to glow as red as the skin of the brightest cherries of summer. Searing heat emanated from the bonfire. Now the Cauldron's walls glowed nearly white with heat... and collapsed into the depths of the flames of the bonfire. The flames rapidly fell back into mere embers. The Cauldron was a melted mass oozing its metals from the ashes, spreading in rivulets in all directions and solidifying as it ran. The Cauldron had ceased to be.
In that moment on the mainland, Horsa breathed one last tortured breath just before life left his limbs. His brother Hengist spoke a vow of vengeance on those who had caused the death of his brother. Ysbrand's name was prominent in that vow, and not pleasantly.