Author's notes:- This is my first attempt at a reincarnation story and set a little bit in the future, though it is definitely more supernatural than scifi. This story is a modern one, but it follows from the TV show's finale and not from my earlier story, The Strength of Friendship. It's important that readers remember that, or they might find themselves a bit confused. To tell the truth, I actually muddled myself up when writing this, at first, and I had to go back and make some edits.

Featured in this story is the island of Easdale. It is a real place in Scotland, and it was on a visit to this island which inspired me to write this story. A picture of a scene from this chapter came into my head while I was exploring the island, and I just had to go home and write it. However, as I was still finishing writing my first story, I had to make notes.

My writing schedule will be similar to last time and I'll try to post a chapter every Friday. I'm not saying I'll succeed in always sticking to that, but I will let you know if I'm ever going to be late in posting.

I do hope you enjoy and that you give this story as much support as you did The Strength of Friendship, which is still picking up readers who are so very kind as to comment. You are all so amazing!

I'll keep quiet now and just let you read... Have fun and please let me know if you enjoy.

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The Torn Earth

Chapter One

Rumbles

Merlin Emrys was One thousand five hundred and seven years old, though it had to be said he looked more like a young man in his mid twenties and, for the sake of his sanity and security, had adopted the name Rhys Wilson at the present time.

To be honest, he had lived many life-times since the day he'd been born in the middle of the sixth century and he had let himself age many times over. Well, it would be more exact to say that he had used many ageing spells throughout the centuries because Merlin was unique among the mortals with whom he lived his daily life in the sense that he was immortal.

On the other hand, Arthur Penderel had just passed his twenty-seventh birthday, was the son of a rich and very influential family who owned a global conglomerate and was the epitome of the saying 'born with a silver spoon in his mouth', although perhaps in his case, the spoon was more likely platinum studded with diamonds.

At this moment in time, Arthur was carrying out a special assignment for his father who had sent him north to Scotland to a place he'd never visited; a place he'd never heard of, if the truth were told. He was headed for a tiny island off the west coast of Argyll called Easdale where a very strange phenomenon was happening which was being reported in the local newspaper as being the result of one of Camelot Industries' latest developments.

He'd flown straight to Glasgow where he'd appropriated one of the company helicopters to fly him directly to the spot. Only he'd been informed that wouldn't be possible as, due to some local bye-laws, no aircraft of any kind was allowed to land on the island. The nearest he could touch down was in the car park on Seil and take the ferry, which he now discovered was little more than an open boat with a large outboard motor.

He really had to lay down the law to his PA and support team to do their research better in future. Had he known he'd be squeezed into a small passenger ferry between a few German tourists, a couple of untidy backpackers and a local middle-aged lady with a number of bags full of groceries and a muddy dog, he'd have made sure he'd arrived in one of the company's motor launches.

However, it was too late now and he did have a job to do which involved him meeting up with a geologist called Rhys Wilson, who seemingly worked for him, or Camelot Industries to be more precise.

Thankfully, the journey was only a few minutes' duration and he was soon dusting himself down at the head of the jetty, surveying the surrounding island as he did so. He wandered up the track to look around, passing a more modern building which seemed to be the village hall with a small cafe next door that incorporated a pub. At the head of the track was the village itself, though in truth there wasn't much to see, only a number of fairly old cottages surrounding a grassy square, while a sign proudly pointed across the grass to Easdale Folk Museum. But there definitely wasn't any sign of anyone waiting to welcome him.

Which there should have been if Gwen had done her job as his PA properly... and yet he knew he shouldn't complain. Gwen did her very best to keep him organized, he just wasn't the type of person who liked to conform.

For instance, while he'd been enjoying sunning himself on his yacht in Monaco in anticipation of the Formula 1 Grand-Prix, he'd received an urgent phone call from his father's secretary telling him to get his butt back home ASAP to deal with a looming problem in Scotland. The very fact that it was Katrina who'd spoken to him personally told him this could be something catastrophic. Though extremely miffed to miss the actual race weekend, he'd emailed Gwen telling her to find out as much as possible about this Easdale place and what the problem might be, while he'd flown back to Britain on the first available flight. Thank goodness they'd had a seat in First Class; he didn't do economy well. Yet even economy was luxury compared to this little godforsaken island.

Now where was this Rhys guy? He twisted and turned in the centre of the square, noticing a number of tracks leading in different directions. What the hell? There were no roads on this island, just muddy dirt tracks. He turned up the collar of the rain jacket which had been handed to him by one of the helicopter crew. He'd heard about the amount of rain this part of the UK was subject too, but he hadn't expected it to be so cold. This was summer!

Not too many hours ago he'd been relaxed and warm, entertaining members of the top racing car world, corporate acquaintances and various socialites. Landing in a damp dreary scrap of an island whose lowering skies looked like they were about to drop a ton of water on him was not his idea of fun.

Yet even Arthur admitted he had to work, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, he was skilled at troubleshooting for his father and for Camelot, knowing instinctively when to cajole, or in some parts of the world bribe, and occasionally employ the use of less than gentle persuasion to get the job done. So far, he hadn't come across a problem he hadn't been able to solve.

He might as well get on with sorting out this current complication and the sooner the better. If this boffin wasn't willing to come to him, then he'd better seek him out; after all, there weren't exactly many places he could be hiding out on this tiny isle and he did know the trouble concerned the flooded slate quarries which were dotted around Easdale.

So, which way to go, right or left? Though it probably didn't matter too much, the tracks presumably went all the way round the place. He struck off to the right certain he'd find this Wilson pretty quickly, his boots sinking into the soggy ground as he marched... thank goodness he'd changed his footwear on the helicopter too... and no doubt he'd find the problem was something simple. After all, Camelot Industries didn't have any installations anywhere near this part of Scotland. These scientific guys were always dreaming up weird connotations which very often proved to be more fantasy than fact.

And this Rhys Wilson was a new employee who might prove to be even more of a freak than normal. He'd had Gwen research him too and it turned out he was younger than most of the scientists his father usually employed... a bit of a whiz-kid who'd aced his Graduate PHDs in a couple of subjects which was more than anyone had a right to at the tender age of twenty-five. With his Geology and Archaeology degree, he'd managed to fit in one on ancient British history. Arthur was definitely on his way to meet up with a nerd!

He shrugged his shoulders, admitting that he was a bit of a nerd himself... on the quiet. Alongside his Business and Economics degree, he'd dabbled a bit in ancient history too. What could people expect when he was named Arthur Penderel, his mother's name was Ygraine and he had a great-grandfather who'd begun the family's fortunes after the Great War by selling coal door-to-door in South Wales and called it Camelot Coal?

Even his father was proud of the similarities, and although he wasn't called Uther, thankfully, he did name his son Arthur, thinking it a strange coincidence that the woman he'd fallen in love with and married was called Ygraine.

Hell, there were analogies in Arthur's own life too... though they were more of a stretch. They'd begun in university when he'd made friends with a pretty female student called Gwen. He remembered how they'd met in a cafe where Gwen had knocked his coffee all over him, which hadn't exactly been her fault as she'd been jolted from behind by some crazy kids. The poor girl had been so embarrassed she'd insisted on buying him a replacement drink and offering to pay for having his clothes laundered. The coffee he'd accepted but the cleaning he'd turned down, pointing out that his clothes would be just fine after he'd stuck them in the washing machine, which he was perfectly capable of doing by himself... pampered rich boy or not.

They'd had coffee together and Arthur discovered he enjoyed the company of a girl who didn't seem to recognise who he was and wasn't trying to jump his bones. He remembered how she'd laughed when he'd asked her if Gwen was short for Guinevere, and had only been a little disappointed to learn that Gwen wasn't short for anything... she was just Gwen.

Over time and with an ease which made it hardly noticeable, Gwen had slotted into his life as a friend and confidante, so much so that when they'd both finally finished their studies, he'd offered her the job as his Personal Assistant. A role which neither had ever regretted, though he did tend to take Gwen for granted on occasion.

Something which right now he promised himself he would never do again as he ploughed on through the rain which had now started to fall in earnest. He just hoped that his Girl Friday would show up very quickly with his luggage, his research and, hopefully, reservations at the classiest hotel in this area.

The curtain of rain obscured his view but, as he rounded a corner in the track, he heard sounds of voices from up ahead, though eerily muffled by the atrocious weather. He wiped the raindrops from his eyes and peered into the enveloping murk.

There was definitely a small group of people up ahead, who appeared to be staring at something very interesting at their feet. Something so compelling that they didn't notice him approach, though he was making enough noise squelching and moaning his way through the deep mire to alert all but the dead, or perhaps the rain had suppressed the noise he was making, even when he hailed them. He tried again.

"Hello there! Is any one of you Rhys Wilson? Any of you from Camelot Industries?"

He was practically at their side when he noticed the red rain proof suits they were wearing bore the dragon logo of Camelot. He was about to shout louder, when he observed what was holding their attention...

There was a deep, dark pool on the very fringe of the island, its edges almost everywhere carved from sharp sheer rock, or slate as he later discovered, and almost open to the sea except for a thin stretch of the same black rock. Its surface was ruffled, roiling. Perhaps caused by the rain and the wind, but Arthur soon dismissed that source. Whatever was making the water boil, for that was exactly what it appeared to be doing, was coming from deep below the surface.

Arthur couldn't help but move forward, feeling drawn to the mysterious bubbling water like a magnet. Soon he was standing on the very rim of the tarn. A hand reached out to stop him.

"Hey, watch out what you're doing! One misstep and you're right in there." The head belonging to the hand nodded towards the turbulent pool.

Arthur Penderel stared down at the hand then up to the face within a hood, pulled tight around a thin face to keep out the rain. He pulled his arm out of the man's grasp. "Leave me be!" he demanded, though he did take one step back. "Who are you?"

The young man stared at the new arrival who, it had to be said, looked very unhappy to be here. "I'm Rhys Wilson... and you?" he asked with a friendly grin, though he had a good idea who he was addressing. He'd seen the guy's pictures in one of the quarterly journals Camelot issued to its work force, not to mention the odd gossip column in the tabloids.

"Arthur Penderel." The answer came back sharply and was almost torn away by the rising gale. "I'm supposed to meet you and deal with the problem you've discovered," Arthur shouted to make himself heard above the screeching wind.

"Well, unless you're better than King Canute I'm not sure what you can do," Merlin answered, a cheeky grin spreading across his features for which he received a dirty glance.

"And this is the trouble? The water boiling like that?" He pointed at the large pond as the effect spread until the whole surface seemed to blister and bubble. "Isn't it just this hellish weather?" But even as Arthur spoke, he already knew this wasn't the reason.

"No!" Wilson too raised his voice. "The weather might be dire, but that's coming from beneath the surface, probably bubbling up from beneath the rock bed."

"Is it volcanic?" Arthur drew on everything he'd learned on the subject of geophysics, which wasn't much.

"Not for millions of years... and not exactly in this spot. A bit further north and west."

Arthur shrugged inside his ill-fitting rain jacket, feeling water trickle from his hair to run down his back. "Have you any ideas what's happening... and why it has anything to do with Camelot Industries?"

The younger man considered his answer for a moment or two before replying. "Not at the moment. Isn't that what we're here to find out." Rhys looked up at the sky. "Not sure there's much we can do in this rain, and I'm going to need quite a lot of equipment, which is what I thought you'd provide."

"Hey, I just got here. Yesterday I was in Monte Carlo with no idea this was happening." Arthur tried to ruffle his hair which was plastered to his skull due to the damp, but gave up on the attempt to make any running repairs. "Talk to me, and if you can convince me this is our responsibility, I'll see you have everything you need."

Suddenly, not only the water was affected. With a rumbling which came from deep underground, the muddy earth moved. Arthur, who was standing nearest to the edge of the bank, had no time to react as a large amount of soil fell away into the water, taking him with it. He slipped sideways, cracking his head on a protruding rock and disappeared below the heaving water.

For moments, the other members of the group froze, all except Rhys who'd made an unsuccessful grab for his employer. But he wasn't about to give up. Shouting to the people behind him to be ready to fish them out, he stripped off his rain gear and dove into the lochan.

Knowing there was little chance of actually seeing Arthur in such dark, turbulent water, he spread his limbs around as far as possible as he swam underwater, remembering a time in Arthur's first life when he'd narrowly missed saving his prince and friend: the time Sophia Tiamor of the Sidhe had enchanted the prince and tried to drown him in her bid to cross through The Gates of Avalon. He couldn't lose Arthur so soon in this life!

His search became more frantic and he reached out with his senses as well as his arms and was thankful when his left hand connected with a solid object. Instinctively, he grabbed a handful of cloth, relieved to feel an actual arm within his grip. Pulling the inert body into his arms, he kicked his legs and headed upwards, following the flow of the bubbles. When he broke the surface of the water, he was happy to see he was close to the edge and a number of people were waiting to help him and an unconscious Penderel ashore.

As Merlin stood, he handed his boss over to his work colleagues, clawing his own way to the path which now seemed to be quite steady and still. The tremor had lasted only a few moments yet it had potentially created a huge emergency... the loss of Arthur Penderel.

Someone handed him a couple of handkerchiefs that were the only items available to dry himself with, which was pretty pointless anyway because the rain was still pouring down. He began to shiver and Will, another member of the team, threw his discarded jacket over his shoulders, but Rhys hardly noticed. He was too intent on watching the first-aider attempting to empty Arthur's lungs of water. They all stared, transfixed. There was no doubt in each of their minds that Benedict Penderel would be incandescent with rage if his son actually drowned in a tiny loch on a small and undistinguished island in Scotland.

But just as abruptly, Arthur was coughing up the contents of his lungs... and some of his stomach. The woman who'd administered first aid placed him into the recovery position, before standing back to allow Rhys to crouch by the prone man's side.

"Arthur?" Rhys said, quietly but with some urgency. There was no reply. Perhaps he was suffering from shock. He would certainly be suffering from hypothermia if they didn't get him somewhere warm. Rhys turned back to the others, who were really under his control. "Will, run to the nearest house and let them know what's happened here. We need to know how to get Mr Penderel off the island in an emergency and to a hospital. He hit his head when he fell. He might have a concussion... besides inhaling quite a lot of water." Rhys bit at his lip, once more searching Arthur's so familiar face for signs of consciousness.

"Arthur! Come on, prat," he said so low no one else would hear and was rewarded when Arthur rolled onto his back, coughing again while drops of water sprayed out of his mouth. His eyes blinked open but were unfocussed, which wasn't surprising since he'd almost drowned.

From his position on the ground, Arthur saw a face hanging over him, close... but not threateningly close, he felt. In fact, the smile on the face was somewhat familiar... comforting. He was wet, very wet and cold but so was the idiot, from the looks of it.

Plus, Arthur had a pounding headache. He tried to sit up only to find he had little strength, so he lay still, staring at his companion. Finally, his voice seemed to work again.

"Merlin, what the hell just happened?"

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Thankfully, Arthur had seemed cognizant enough to understand Merlin's desperate expression as he told his employer that his name was Rhys... Rhys Wilson, a geologist working for Camelot Industries and had lain quietly on the ground waiting for a quad-bike with a flat trailer which had appeared, driven by one of the locals.

It had taken little time for the injured man to be loaded on-board and escorted to one of the nearest and largest houses on the island where Rhys had stripped him of his wet clothes and he'd been put to bed. The elderly lady who owned the house told them that the flying ambulance had been called and Mr Penderel would be taken to Oban General Hospital for a full check up. Emergency aircraft were given special dispensation to land.

While there were others present, Arthur had remained almost in a state of unconsciousness, but the moment the door closed and he was left alone with Merlin, he sat up, only to find that wasn't quite as easy as he expected. His head swum dizzyingly and he had to fight the sensation of nausea.

"How are you feeling?" Rhys asked, almost afraid to talk. Could Arthur really have remembered his old life so quickly?

"Like I've almost been drowned... and did I bang my head or something, because I have a raging headache?" Arthur finally managed to push himself up on the pillow, but he let his head fall back and pressed a hand to his skull. "Mind you, maybe the headache comes from realising I've been here before. Not here, exactly, but I'm sure you know what I mean," he finished, his hand leaving his head and waving generally around the room.

"I'm not sure I do know what you're talking about," Rhys said evasively, approaching the bed. He'd been waiting centuries for his friend to return, but now it all seemed too easy. Surely Arthur would be more doubting of reincarnation. After all, they hadn't had much time to consider the process when he'd been dying. The two of them had spent most of their time on the journey to Avalon discussing the fact Merlin had magic. Would Arthur remember he had magic?

"Merlin, don't pretend to be stupid! We're talking about The Once and Future King. I remember you mentioned that a few times back in Camelot, though I never knew quite what it meant then."

"Well, as far as I know, you're not a king, so I guess it's irrelevant," Rhys stated, sitting in a chair and leafing through a magazine about things to do in Argyll & Bute.

Arthur leaned over and knocked the publication out of Merlin's hands. "Merlin, I really do have a headache and I can't remember ever being so cold in my life, so stop pretending you've never met me before when you know very well we spent ten years of our lives together in Camelot over a thousand years ago."

"One thousand four hundred and seventy one to be precise..."

"What?" For the first time since he'd wakened up after his accident Arthur looked confused.

"Years! We met one thousand..."

"Right! I didn't realize you were counting."

The increasingly loud sounds of rotor-blades turning cut into their conversation and there was a knock at the door followed by the lady home-owner entering the room. She had a kind face as she regarded her unusual visitors with some anxiety and introduced herself as Fiona MacDougall.

"The air-ambulance is about to land. They'll be here shortly to take you to hospital... and it's a pity they've come so soon since I've just made you both a cup of hot tea," she went on with an apologetic smile, looking strangely unhappy that she would lose her guests quite so quickly.

"Thank you, Mrs MacDougall," Arthur answered with a smile of his own. His head might be aching and he was dealing with the almost unbelievable fact that he was reunited with his best friend from the dark ages, but a Penderel never forgot to be polite to a lady, particularly one who had offered him such hospitality. "And I'd really love that tea, if it's not too much trouble. I'm sure we have time to drink it before they arrive."

"I'm sure you will," she complied, blushing slightly at the handsome young man who was occupying her spare bedroom, if only for a short time. She left the room and was back in a trice with two large mugs of steaming liquid. "I don't know if you take sugar, but I thought after your ducking, you could probably do with a shot of energy. Don't tell the doctors but there's a little shot of something else in there too... for medicinal purposes only, of course."

There was a knock at the outside door, and Fiona disappeared again to see if the medics had arrived.

"I'm not sure you should be drinking that if it has whisky in it... not when you might have a concussion," Merlin said wisely.

"Merlin, shut up and drink up," Arthur replied after taking a sip. "It's delicious and it's warming me up."

Merlin did as he was told, then sat up suddenly. "And don't call me Merlin. In this life, I'm Rhys Wilson. Keep calling me Merlin and the doctors will think you're suffering from hallucinations from that knock on the head!"

"Ah, so it is true."

"Yes, but we can't talk about it now."

There was a noise from the hallway and very soon the sounds of conversation preceded the medics arrival.

"Later," Arthur hissed while handing Merlin his mug and sliding down the bed again, as the men in green uniforms came and stood by his side.

"We hear you two decided to go swimming in the quarry," said the first man, cheerily, while setting his case on the chair Rhys had vacated. "Not a good idea in this weather. I'm surprised you didn't drown."

"He fell in... and I jumped into save him," Merlin said, unwilling to take the blame for the untimely dip.

"Right. I'm Joe and this is Davy," the medic said with a friendly grin and pointed to his partner. "That means we have to take both of you in for a check up. We'll just run a few tests first before we get you loaded on the helicopter. Davy, can you go and arrange for a stretcher."

"I don't think you need the stretcher," Arthur announced, sitting up and swinging his legs off the bed. "I'm pretty sure I can walk."

"Not so fast, Mr Penderel."

Rhys watched Joe push Arthur back on the bed and was prepared for a truculent outburst from his boss. However, he was surprised when Arthur subsided without an objection.

"You're with the exploration team at the quarry, I hear," Joe continued in his hearty manner. "Now, I don't know a thing about what you lot are doing there, but I wouldn't presume to tell you how to do your job, so you just lie there and let me do mine. Mrs MacDougall tells me you were unconscious when you were brought in, so that means we use the stretcher. Head wounds can be very tricky, though the results don't always show up immediately."

Seeing Arthur nod to the medic without any objections astounded Rhys. Either, this Arthur had changed, or he really was hurt. He certainly grimaced in pain as Joe began his checks. The medical team were thorough and competent and very shortly, Arthur was being loaded into the 'copter on the stretcher, with an oxygen mask over his mouth and as Rhys went to follow him, he was surprised by a hand touching his shoulder to hold him back. He turned to see Mrs MacDougall regarding him pointedly but with a great deal of warmth.

"Don't worry about him. He'll be fine... but both of you come back here. Oh, I know you'll be back at the quarry, but I mean come back to visit me," she whispered, leaning toward his ear. "I understand everything!"

And as Merlin climbed inside and the door shut, he glanced out the window to see Will and all his team, standing drenched in the rain, watching their departure. A little to the left, separate from the group, Fiona MacDougall stood, grey-peppered hair tied back in a plait, her eyes twinkling as she smiled enigmatically.

Merlin's mouth dropped open for there could be no mistake... Fiona MacDougall was none other than Alice!

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