Disclaimer: I own nothing from Merlin, nor do I make any money from this story.
Summary: The boys (and Sir Leon) find themselves trapped by a curse. Can Merlin figure out a way to save them before it's too late?
A/N: Happy Halloween! I fancied writing a special spooky story. I think I sort of succeeded. Let me know what you think!
Isle of Sorrows.
Merlin eyed the rotten planks of the bridge with trepidation. He did not want to cross to the island he knew lay at the other side. He had no choice, though, as the mournful howls of the hounds echoed through the thick fog.
"We'll leave the horses at the forest edge," Arthur called. "From here we'll have to go on foot."
He swung off his horse, Merlin and the rest of the party following. Securing their mounts, the Knights drew their swords as Merlin moved to the prince's shoulder.
"Perhaps we shouldn't cross," he muttered.
"Don't be such a girl," Arthur snapped. "We are crossing. We have to destroy those beasts."
"They are not normal creatures, Arthur. You know that. It's almost dark and it's Samhain. Something is not right," Merlin pleaded.
The prince regarded him for a moment, faint concern etched across his face.
"It doesn't matter," he said finally. "My father has ordered them destroyed. We have to go."
He moved over to where his men had gathered on the lake shore.
"Stay close," he told the warlock. "Idiot."
"Dollop head," the younger man muttered in retaliation, glad nonetheless for the excuse to be near Arthur.
Sir Leon stepped out first, carefully testing each plank before allowing it to take his full weight. Arthur moved out next, sword at the ready and Merlin at his shoulder. The other three Knights brought up the rear.
The fog swallowed them within seconds. On every side were walls of grey, a smothering blanket covering the lake to hide the curse sitting upon its dark, oily waters. There was a crushing silence, not even the lapping of the waves made a sound. It was as if they had entered another world.
There was something else too, a heaviness to the air. A feeling that Merlin associated with magic. It crawled across his skin like insects, sending shivers down his spine. A weight settled in his stomach, cold and foreboding.
As the inched their way across the bridge, Merlin replayed his last conversation with Gaius, desperately ignoring the ominous creaking under foot.
"I cannot be sure, Merlin," the physician had said. "But I think these hounds may be the sisters of the Isle of Sorrows."
"Isle of Sorrows?" the warlock had questioned, shoving a pouch of medical supplies into his pack.
"It was once a place of peace and serenity. A place of pilgrimage for those grieving a loved one," Gaius explained. "It was guarded by priestesses of the Old Religion. They cared for those visiting.
"Now, about five hundred years ago, the three sisters guarding the island refused entry to a young sorceress."
"Why?" Merlin frowned.
"She had killed her lover in rage. The sisters felt that she deserved no comfort," was the answer. "In revenge, the sorceress cursed the Isle. No longer did it heal, but trapped those upon it in their grief. The visitors all died of sorrow.
"The sisters grieved for the fate of their haven. They became so sad that they turned to stone.
"No one has visited the Isle since. However, legend says that every one hundred years, the sisters' souls take the shape of hounds. During the week of Samhain, when the barrier between the worlds thins, they can leave the Isle. They travel the lands in search of great sorrow and lure the grieving back to feed the curse."
"There has been a lot of grief in Camelot in the past months," Merlin mused. "It would make sense for them to have come here."
"If I am right, you must be careful," his mentor warned. "You must not be caught in the curse."
The sound of splintering wood snapped him from his thoughts. Wheeling around, he watched in horror as Sir Rupert plunged into the cold water below.
Refusing to acknowledge that he had just been standing on that plank himself, Merlin dropped to his knees, hands joining Sir Gerald's as he reached for Rupert.
The man sank quickly however, disappearing as though pulled into the depths by a ravenous monster. Sitting back on his heels, Merlin felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" the prince asked quietly.
Wordlessly, the warlock nodded. Accepting Arthur's hand, he hauled himself to his feet, turning his back resolutely on the gap. That could have been him.
"Let's continue," Arthur instructed. "Be cautious everyone."
Even more slowly now, they moved forward, Gerald and Terrence stepping carefully over the missing plank.
Gradually, a dark smudge appeared before them. A wave of fear crashed through Merlin's chest. The island. Soon, they would step on to its shore and the curse would latch onto them. Would he be strong enough to resist? To break it?
He had to be. If he couldn't save them, his destiny, Arthur's destiny would never be achieved. Everything he'd been through the last three years would mean nothing.
No. He couldn't think like that. He had to be positive. He had to push away all that made him sad. It would only feed the curse.
Finally, they reached the shore, stepping relieved onto the dry, dead grass. The journey across the bridge seemed to have taken an age. How much time had passed? Minutes? Hours? It was hard to tell through the fog that still swirled around them.
"The howling has stopped," Leon noted, his voice strangely muffled by the mist.
"They did not come past us. They're here somewhere," Arthur replied. "We must move carefully."
Struck by a sudden chill at his back, Merlin turned to find both Gerald and Terrence missing.
"Erm..." he started eloquently.
"What is is Merlin?" the prince huffed, turning to glower at his servant.
"Where are Gerald and Terrence?"
At the warlock's question, Arthur looked towards the bridge. It was only a few feet away, but already it was hidden from view by a heavy curtain of fog. Calling out, he got no response from his men. Striding forwards, he ran into a solid barrier, rebounding from the force of his collision.
Leon steadied him whilst Merlin reached out to touch the wall.
"The others must be trapped on the other side," he said. "I don't think we'll be able to get back through either."
"This is the work of magic," Arthur fumed. "It must be connected to those hounds. We need to find them."
Carefully, the three remaining men set off across the island. Arthur held Merlin's wrist tightly, his other hand grasping his sword. Despite the grip being painful and likely leaving bruises, the warlock didn't complain. They wouldn't be separated this way. Leon paced slightly in front of them, hazy through the mist but still well within their sight.
Every so often, a bare limbed tree or withered bush would loom out of the fog, the dark shape startling in its sudden starkness.
And still, the overbearing quiet.
Merlin knew, with absolute certainty, that the three of them were the only living beings on the island. And yet...
He shivered slightly as the heavy moisture in the air seeped through his clothes. The back of his neck prickled with the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes. They were being watched.
He glanced around, but could see nothing for the swirling white fog. Occasionally, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught glimpses of people. Shadowy figures observing them through flat, disinterested eyes.
Slinking closer to Arthur, he ignored the fleeting glance in his direction. Instead, he chose to concentrate on extending his senses, searching for the merest whisper of a threat.
The sun had most definitely set by now, he knew. There was no sign of it here on the island, though. It seemed to be frozen in a perpetual twilight. A result of the curse, no doubt.
They had been walking for almost half and hour when a crumbling temple appeared out of the mist. It would have been majestic in its day, but now it gave off an overpowering air of foreboding.
The rotted doors were ajar and it was for these the two Knights headed, a reluctant manservant dragged along.
As soon as they entered, torches burst alight around the gigantic room, dispelling the thick shadows lurking in the corners.
Merlin couldn't hold in his gasp when he caught sight of the skeletons littering the floor. There were dozens of them. The dry, brittle bones lay in heaps. It was as though their owners had simply curled up on the floor and laid there until they died. They probably had.
It wasn't until Arthur tugged on his wrist and moved towards the centre of the room that Merlin looked up. Promptly, he wished that he hadn't.
There, in the centre of a prefect circle of skeletons stood three stone figures. Three women.
They had been beautiful once, Merlin thought as they came to stand before the statues. Their lovely features were twisted in sorrow now. It echoed the pain rising in his own heart. Ruthlessly, he pushed it away. He couldn't afford to succumb. But the grief was strong. He didn't know how long he could resist.
"What is this?" Arthur asked in a whisper.
"I told you Gaius' theory on the way here," Merlin replied, still disgruntled over the conversation. "You dismissed it. Called it a bedtime story."
"You really think this is the Isle of Sorrows?" Leon, riding nearby, had overheard them earlier.
Merlin didn't answer, too caught up in staring at the central statue. There was something about her eyes. Stone they may be, but there was so much wisdom in them.
"They chose us," he realised.
"Who chose us? For what?" Arthur frowned at him in confusion.
"The sisters," Merlin glanced at the other two men. "The hounds were their spirits. They were drawn to Camelot because of the suffering these past few months. When the king sent us to hunt them,they watched us. Chose us because we were the most sad of the group. We're here to feed the curse."
"He's right," Leon looked to the sisters. "Don't you feel it? The grief is growing stronger in my heart."
"No," Arthur was stubborn to the end. "I am not grieving anything."
Merlin shot him a disbelieving look, but didn't comment.
"Well, I am grieving many things," he said instead.
"What things?" there was a strange tone in Arthur's voice and he almost looked concerned.
The warlock replied after a slight hesitation.
"The betrayal of a friend, the secrets I keep, unrequited love-"
"Alright, that's enough you girl," Arthur cut him off abruptly. There was an expression of discomfort on his face. It was as though he shared one of Merlin's sorrows.
"My mother died last week," Leon spoke into the silence that followed. The friends stared at him. "You shouldn't be the only one to bare your secrets Merlin."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Arthur's voice was filled with compassion. "You should be on leave."
"My mother would have wanted me to continue to serve," the Knight bowed his head. "She loved Camelot. She would want me to keep it safe."
The feeling of being watched had disappeared once they entered the temple, but it now reappeared with a vengeance. Glancing around, not expecting to see anything, Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight that met his eyes.
Crowding around them were dozens of ghosts. Each one was watching the trio with no curiosity, just sorrow. They were vaguely transparent, gliding rather than walking, each completely silent.
The manservant wasn't the only one who could see them. His companions were also staring at the spectres. Arthur's grip on his wrist tightened.
"How...?" Leon whispered, fearful.
"They must be trapped by the curse too," the warlock replied. "Also, it's Samhain. The barriers between this world and the next are almost non-existent. It gives them more freedom of movement."
"We are to become like them!" Arthur snarled, flinging his sword to the ground. "Trapped by this curse forever."
Leon's knees gave out and he sank to the floor as the grief welled up inside his chest. Merlin almost joined him as his own pain surged through his veins. Even Arthur looked ready to buckle, his composure draining away to reveal a deep rooted sorrow etched onto his features.
It was the torture writ across the prince's face that gave Merlin strength. He had to work out a way to break the curse.
Forcing himself to ignore his feelings-something he'd had practise with-he focused his mind.
It was powerful magic, obviously and the sorceress who'd cast it was clearly well-trained, but was she more powerful than him?
Doubtful. His power swelled every day and he was known among the Druids as some kind of saviour. The Dragon even respected him enough to provide him with highly powerful spells once.
So he had the power, of that he was sure. But how could he break the spell?
He thought about the curse. It was born out of hate and grief. Magic was about balance. The Afanc born out of water and earth was defeated by fire and air. A life for a life when Mirroring Life and Death.
Could it be that simple? Could hate and grief be overpowered by love and joy?
It was worth a try. After all, he had no other ideas and the sorrow was creeping up on him again, clouding his mind so that he could barely think through it.
Turning to Arthur, he used the prince's grip on his wrist to pull him closer. Meeting the confused blue stare, Merlin tried to give his friend a don't hate me look and leaned in to press his lips to Arthur's, flinging his arm around the others' neck.
He felt a brief flash of fear as the prince stiffened, before he let out a soft sound of pleasure. Wrapping his free arm around Merlin's waist, Arthur hauled him closer still and returned the kiss with fervour.
Happiness flooded his body, white hot in its intensity and Merlin was vaguely aware of his magic exploding. It swept across the island, chasing away the taint of the curse.
Arthur didn't notice, preoccupied with exploring the warlock's mouth and crushing his slighter body against his own. It was only when Leon cleared his throat that they remembered themselves and broke apart, panting.
Remaining in each others' arms, they looked around. The ghosts were shimmering and fading slowly from view. Many of them were smiling gently, happy to finally be free.
"It worked," Merlin breathed, feeling lighter. "The curse is broken."
"Sometimes, you are quite brilliant," Arthur whispered in his ear before withdrawing. "Let's get back to the mainland. I don't want to sleep here."
His grip on Merlin's wrist loosened, sliding down to entangle their fingers. Grinning, the warlock allowed him to pull him in the direction of the door, Leon following closely.
A cracking sound had them turning to watch as the statues crumbled to dust. In their place stood the three giant hounds they'd chased from Camelot. As they looked at them, they shimmered and transformed into women. The sisters smiled in acknowledgement before fading from sight.
"So...unrequited love?" Leon smiled as they started for the door again.
Arthur stopped dead. His father could not find out. Merlin would be in danger.
"Leon..."
"Do not fear, Sire," the Knight's eyes caught Merlin's. "I will not tell. Your secret is safe with me."
Somehow, the young warlock knew he wasn't talking only about his affair with the prince. Gratefully, he inclined his head. Arthur said nothing, but seemed satisfied as he tugged his new lover outside.
The fog had dissipated, leaving a cold, clear night in its wake. The moon and stars bathed the land in silver light as the trio of men made their way back to the bridge.
Around them, the island began to come back to life.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!