Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
The thudding sound of hooves was a familiar and calming sound, one that Arthur missed after days stuck on the throne. It would be unimaginable to shirk his duties as king for managing Camelot's daily affairs and juggling through the foreign ones could not be left to the whims of the court. Neither would it be fair to Gwen to leave her at their mercy, though Arthur doubt the court's ability to bully the headstrong woman. She was firm as well as kind.
Still, it was maddening having to spend his days trapped in the castle, especially in light of his youth. Gone were the days when he could jump on a horse and have a wild adventure without serious repercussions. The occasional hunts weren't enough to stave off the boredom and it would not do to allow his Court Sorcerer—one who would happily laze around the castle for eternity if allowed—to go on his adventure. No, Merlin shouldn't be allowed to romp around the kingdom when Arthur couldn't. Besides, was it not an unofficial duty of Arthur to make Merlin as miserable as he could? That and ensure the idiot came out relatively unscathed.
"So, if we're looking for someone hunting sorcerers," Leon began, drawing everyone's attention, "then is it wise to bring you two along?"
"Definitely mate. Don't you know? No one can mess with the awesome powers of his clumsiness," Gwaine snickered before a barrage of leaves blew up and shot at his face. Flailing did little good when the knight lost balance and fell with a shout, or he would have if an unseen force hadn't prevented it.
"And you say I'm the clumsy one?" Merlin chortled as the gold faded from his eyes. Beside him, Gilli snickered while Leon and Percival watched on with grins.
Arthur rolled his eyes at the antics as he added, "I hope you two don't treat this as a joke. It's hard to imagine one of our patrol being so easily overpowered without seeing the assailant."
"Yeah, but come on Princess, Sir Olwen isn't exactly the best of knights," Gwaine smirked, "not like us."
"But Griselda wasn't a sorceress to be trifle with" Gilli said with furrowed brows, "or Peter for that matter."
"No, they weren't," the warlock agreed, "which is why I'm going to investigate this personally. The average sorcerer isn't capable of an attack of this magnitude. With something that powerful, it won't be a matter of a stronger swordsman, but a stronger sorcerer. Begs the question on the necessity of your presence, sire."
"Sorcery's not the only thing out there that can kill you," Arthur drawled, "and it would be embarrassing when the great Emrys died tripping over a branch."
Laughter reverberated throughout the group, adding to the cheerful atmosphere as they continued their journey. The village, Assirith as Olwen had later told them, was rather remote. At a leisurely pace, it would take three days at most. On horseback, it wasn't long before the group spotted the quiet village on their second.
The trail they followed broaden until it was more a dirt road rather than a simple path. Winding towards the sprawling village, it was lined with a multitude of furrowed fields, each one riddled with local farmers. Though it was not as heavily populated as the busy city at the heart of Camelot, it was still sizable for a village. The larger buildings lined the main road while smaller roads and buildings branched away.
Catching the warlock attention was the forest beyond. It loomed over the village with its grand trees; silent sentinels that seemed to hold an air of ancient wisdom as they towered over the humans of the land. Even in the Valley of the Fallen Kings, where the tree seemed soaked in sorcery, couldn't compare to these old giants. Yet a certain darkness hung over them, one that Merlin failed to fully grasp or understand.
Entering the village, it was apparent they were outsiders. The rough clothing of the populace clashed greatly with the obvious finery that the group wore. Just having their horses showed their wealth as few hooved steeds were spotted among them. It was a surprise for none that the people stared at them as they passed by, eyes full of a strange emotion Merlin couldn't pin down. They were quick to return about their business, but the warlock still noted how a few kept their distance.
"I don't like it here," Merlin murmured, making sure he wasn't overheard by the locals as he pulled his horse beside the king's. "Something's missing."
"You think so?" Arthur asked, glancing to the side at Merlin.
Merlin simply nodded, choosing to not add more as he looked around. He couldn't quite place his trepidation nor the missing factor, but it seemed the forest's shadow spread beyond its boundaries to hang over the people of Assirith. The day was pleasant, not cold but not scorching, with the sky clear of storm clouds. Yet the people here displayed none of the laughter nor friendliness Merlin often associated with small villages. The missing element was the cheer?
"The children," Merlin gasped to himself, too quiet for anyone to hear but loud enough to catch Arthur's attention. However Merlin offered more information to his outburst, still lost in thought.
Even the smallest of village never lacked the simple sound of childhood. Merlin could still remember the peals of laughter as the children gave chase across the small village of Ealdor. Few, but still there. Here in a village much larger than the warlock's birthplace, there was not a single child in sight; only wary adults.
It was… unsettling.
"Ah, here we are!" Gwaine squealed as he grinned at one of the nearby buildings, unaware that he prevented the king from questioning the warlock. To no one's surprise, it was an inn, a place carrying the promises of liquid courage and a warm bed for a certain knight.
The inn itself appeared to be ordinary establishments that stood two stories high. Great oak doors marked the entrance as above it hung a wooden sign with the name branded across the surface. The Captivating Furnace, it read. Beneath the words was a painting of a brick furnace with a strange creature made of fire dancing in its hearth. None of the details could be made out from the strange figure aside from it being vaguely humanoid. It was interesting sign, but the warlock gave it little more than a look before he was following the others inside.
Much like any alcohol serving business, there was little activity beneath the sun's gaze. The main serving room was empty, and the bar near so. A single man, old and dressed in ragged clothing sat, at the end cradling a mug of ale. There wasn't much talk between the sole customer and the barkeeper, the latter of which choosing to focus on cleaning his counters. Had it not been for a glare and a steadying hand, Gwaine would have already been bouncing to the nearest stool to quench a thirst. Instead, he stood back as a woman got up from the other end of the room, dropping a rag back into the bucket at her feet. As she approached the group, wiping her hand dry on her apron, a small girl followed her at her heels with a ragged doll clutched in her grip.
"Welcome," she smiled, glancing at their attire before giving them a quick courtesy, "I'm Brie, how may I be of service, sirs?"
"No need for formalities, miss. The Princess already has a big enough ego," Gwaine laughed, receiving another glare from Arthur despite the snickering around him.
Before the knight could add onto the poor woman's confusion, Merlin intervened, "Two rooms will be fine."
She nodded before ducking behind the bar, leaving the young girl to scamper for one of the stools. Climbing atop the chair, her little legs dangled from the height as she clutched her doll closer to her bodice. Ignoring the irritated look of the barkeep, she rested her head on the counter and began to doze off. Walking past the barrels of ales and the cluttered shelves of glass bottles, Brie reached for a board of hooks. Keys hung from every single one, making the warlock suspect they were the inn's only customer.
"Do you often get travelers through here?" Arthur asked, noticing the keys as well.
"Not often, a few groups here and there," she shrugged. "Though we've been getting more people pass through recently than ever before, right Erwan?"
"Ay, and neither of them had much luck ignoring our warnings."
"Warnings?" Leon asked.
"The forest in these parts are dangerous," the barkeep grumbled, before staring at the old man at the end of the counter, "among other things."
At those words, the man looked up from his drink, giving the others his attention for the first time. His skin was thin with pockmarks and dark spots decorating his face. He had scraggly, long hair colored by different shades of browns and greys and a long, hooked nose and thin, dry lips. What got their attention the most was the dark bruise that colored the skin around his right eye and the cut that slash down the middle of his lower lips. The way in which he shifted in his seat also implied more injuries hidden beneath the ragged clothing that hung loose off his skinny frame. The glare in those brown eyes spoke a different story than his frail body.
"Don't worry," Merlin said, distracted by the old man as he pushed from the bar and limped for the door, grumbling. "We can handle ourselves fine. But if you don't mind, can you tell us more about these other people?"
"Who, our last guests? There were two groups of them, not that long ago since they've left," Brie said. "The second lot were chasing after the first three to arrive. Messy business, but as long as them sorcerers don't drag us into their problems, I don't care what they do."
"Sorcerers?" Gilli asked. "Why worry if they're capable of magic?"
"I suppose, but some folks around here don't care much for sorcery."
"The old man I assume?" Merlin asked.
She nodded, "His name's Jarron and his family has a history of hatred. He was in… disagreement with the recent change of heart on sorcery. That's the reason we try to ensure that people with sorcery are not known to him. We fear for the last ones, neither of those groups were seen after they went into the woods."
"You believe he attacks them? That's interesting since I find people blinded by misconception to be powerless against magic. You say that two groups come in, with sorcerers, yet an old, prejudice man can harm both?" Merlin shook his head, "I find it hard to believe."
"I know naught in the ways of sorcery, how would you believe the man does it?" Erwan asked as he tossed aside his rag and folded his arms on the counter.
"I know enough on sorcery to understand that it would be difficult to fend against multiple sorcerers on your own without magic on hand," the warlock added as he extended his hand. His eyes flashed as the rag flew from the counter to his hand, to which he settled back in front of the man.
The innkeepers looked to each other, before returning their gazes to observe the warlock. However, that wasn't what caught Merlin's attention. Instead, he couldn't help but notice the once sleeping girl flinch, her eyes widening to a near impossible size as she stared at the ex-servant. In her eyes, he saw fear, something he assumed wouldn't be a common response to magic in a village at peace with sorcery.
"Thank you for the warning," Arthur interrupted before anyone could make a comment. "And thank you for the rooms, but its best that we be off."
"Do you believe it wise to tell them you are a sorcerer?" Arthur grumbled as they walked back into the inn.
With all their saddlebags unpacked and stored in their rooms, the horses in the small stable behind the building, and a quick fairly unappealing meal curtesy of Brie, the men had wasted no time to disperse themselves in the village, splitting up in three separate groups. Though the village was small, it took until the sun started setting for them to fully search the place. If the others success were anything like Arthur and Merlin's, there wasn't much to go on.
The warlock shrugged, "I got what I needed to know."
"And what is that exactly."
"That there is something odd with this village."
The king laughed, though it was without humor, "This place is as unremarkable as villages can get. Not even a bandit attack in who knows how long. I wouldn't have believed this place to be a danger if it wasn't for the missing people."
"So you believe that the old man is the cause of five missing sorcerers? Did we even see the same person? With a drunkard like that, I doubt his capability."
"It looked like he was in a fight recently," Arthur pointed out, "it could be he attacked someone who managed to fight back."
This time it was Merlin's turn to laugh, "You're kidding? When have you ever heard of a sorcerer fighting with fists when their life is in danger?"
"Who knows how it happened, the fact remains that it's the only lead we have."
"No it's not," the warlock grumbled before grabbing the king's arm and spinning him around.
"Hey—"
"Just look," the warlock grumbled as he forced him back a bit to stare out on the path they were traveling. "What is it that you see?"
"I don't know, village life?" Arthur drawl with sarcasm oozing with each syllable.
"That's the thing, Arthur, have you actually seen villagers act like this?" Again the warlock gestured around them. "There is no laughter, no cheer here. The stalls trade their wares, there's people purchasing from the general store, the butchers, or whatever suit their fancy. It's all done, but no one communicates outside of that, no greeting, no conversations, nothing. When was the last time you've been in a village devoid of any emotions? There aren't even children about."
"Maybe things are different here," Arthur shrugged.
"Yes, and that's what's wrong! Whatever shadow hangs over here, I bet it's connected to what we're looking for."
"I doubt it," Arthur said as he started walking again as the warlock fell in step with him.
"Doubt all you want, but you have to admit that they're hiding something. Every question we asked they either avoided or were defensive. I suspect the best person to try questioning next would be that old man, Jarron."
"You shouldn't be there for that, let the knights talk to him."
"Why? What can he do to me?"
"Not sure, be he's the only one suspicious enough."
"Not the only one," Merlin grumbled, to which Arthur ignore as they reached the tavern.
In stark contrast to the day, the darkening sky brought the crowd. The tavern was full of villagers looking for a night off. Dice were tossed and drinks were poured as the low rumbling of conversations filled the room. Some people sat alone, nursing their mugs at the bar, as each table was filled with different groups. Further into the room, the two spotted the others, already seated and served.
As they pulled up chairs of their own, Arthur started, "Any news?"
"Nope," Gwaine said as he slammed down his mug. "We talked to everyone and not a single clue on what's going on, right Percival."
The large knight nodded his assent as Leon reported, "I found nothing either, sire."
Gilli shrugged, "And I sensed nothing."
"Anyone have more information on Jarron?" Merlin asked.
"The same stuff we heard from the innkeepers this morning," Gwaine said. "Except he apparently lives alone on a plot of land between here and the forest."
"Then that leaves us with two options: talk to this Jarron and search the forest," the warlock said as he gave Arthur a smug look.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arthur muttered, "Fine, we talk to him. You, Gilli, Gwaine, and Percival can investigate the forest. I can go talk to Jarron with Leon."
"No, I'll go too."
"Merlin, if he's the one responsible then—"
"Then what do you expect to happen, you with your swords against a man who can assault sorcerers without problems? Besides, you'll need one of us"—he gestured to himself and Gilli—"against any sorcery."
"I'm sure we can handle it just fine."
"I'm sure you can," the warlock said, sarcastic, "in the mean time I'll go put wards on the rooms to make sure nothing breaks in at night to kill me."
With that the warlock shoved away from the table, maneuvering around the tables for the stairs. Before he was about to climb, someone grabbed onto his arm to hold him back. Not surprising, he was met with the concerned eyes of the king. With a roll of his eyes, Merlin instead stepped aside from the stairs to give the king his full attention.
"You're upset."
"Wow, Arthur whatever gave you that idea?"
"What's going on with you? What happened back there," Arthur snapped, gesturing to the table.
"Well answer me this. When a village is being attack by bandits, do you tell your men to leave them to their fate?"
"No, what does this—"
"Then why are you protecting me?"
"I'm not protecting, just making sure you don't needlessly endanger yourself or Gilli for that matter. We are investigating someone who hunts sorcerers, is it not best we allow those of us without magic to handle this."
"Not if the means in which sorcerers are attack are beyond a knight skills," Merlin said, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "I'm not known as Emrys without reason."
"Yes, but it isn't unreasonable to make certain precautions."
"Then it's a good thing I don't listen to your orders."
With that Merlin walked away, leaving Arthur to glower at him in frustration before returning to the table of knights. As the king sat down again, Gwaine was quick to shove a tankard in his face. The warlock watched as Arthur pushed the drink away, wanting to continue the conversation her left.
Merlin wanted to yell at the king, to do something about the odd overprotected attitude he had since adopted. It seemed that, between the reveal of his magic and now, Arthur hadn't been able to see him beyond the defenseless servant. Granted, Merlin hadn't made the best of choices in the past, but he had since proved his abilities. Arthur should know better than to believe as silly of a notion as needing to protect the warlock. It was maddening.
Then again it was a minor annoyance at best. Though based on that truth, his irritation was exaggerated to be the perfect excuse to get away. The king should know better than believe Merlin was only going to give up so easily, especially when he disagreed with the ill thought out plan. And by the looks of the tavern, Jarron being the attacker was looking to be the least likely. Again, the oddness of the villagers did not escape him, even in the seemingly jovial atmosphere. While people sat about, drinking and gambling, the falsity of their cheer still remained. Smiles looked forced and whatever laughter heard sounded awkward, especially compared to those from Camelot who relaxed from the day's worries. These people were playing an act, like a grand spectacle for an audience of none… or for them.
As he searched the room one more time, already deciding on sneaking out to visit the old man, Merlin spotted the little girl from earlier. Brie's daughter, he assumed, had sat herself on the stool again, her small hand holding a piece of charcoal as she scribbled onto a piece of parchment. Seated beside her was a boy, one who couldn't be any older than fifteen summers. The boy watched the younger draw, his black locks of hair long enough to cast a shadow over his eyes. They were the only two children Merlin had seen since entering the village, enough to warrant some questions. Then there was the fact that the girl was frightened of him and his magic. Whether he found out why or eased those fears, at least he was going to be productive.
Reaching her, he needn't speak to get her attention as she looked up at the warlock with wide brown eyes. She held none of the fear she showed earlier, watching him with an almost calculating look before returning back to her work with a new fervor. The boy beside her gave him an uneasy look, offering nothing but uncertainty.
"What are you drawing?" Merlin asked gently, smiling a greeting at the boy before looking over the girl's work.
On the center of the parchment was a square, a rough sketch of a house by the looks of the windows and doors inscribed on its sides. To the left was more squares of different shape and sizes, and to the right were trees. A face peeped out of one of the windows, line drawn over his eyes at a downward angle, giving the little stick figure a permanent scowl as he stared out of his home. The girl was starting to draw more between the house and trees when suddenly someone cleared their throat next to him.
"Cute isn't she," Brie smiled from behind the bar as she knelt against the counter in front her daughter. "Unfortunate that she doesn't talk much."
"Why is that?" Merlin asked.
"She hates to," the boy muttered beneath his breath.
"Oh hush, Silas, she just shy. Shame really since she has the loveliest voice, right my darling Lillian?" Brie cooed as she reached out a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind the girl's ears.
There was a strange strain to her tone, but Merlin had no time to wonder as the little girl, Lillian, shoved the parchment in his hand. She had folded it small enough to easily fit in the palm of his hand. Patting the paper, she gave him a curt nod before she returned to her charcoal and began drawing anew. By the time he returned his attention to Brie, the woman was already swept away by her work.
"She likes you," Silas added with a smile as Merlin murmured his gratitude and pocketed the drawing. The girl continued on with her next work, not indicating whether she heard the two beside her.
"Brie said your name was Silas, right?" Merlin asked now that the boy was talking. "What's a kid like you doing in a tavern at this time?"
"Parents over there," Silas nodded to the couple as they worked beside Brie and Erwan, "the innkeepers are like family to us, my father and mother often come when things get a bit busy."
"Why don't you go out with others your age? I can't imagine it being fun to spend your time here."
Silas shrugged though there seemed to be a new tension in his voice, "Not much more fun with the others. I'll rather sit here and watch other Lillian than run amuck outside."
"Can't be that bad," Merlin quirked his brows.
"I suppose," the boy mumbled with clear dismissal in his tone as he turned away to watch the girl draw.
Merlin made to prod the boy with more questions but decided against it. He doubt he would get any more information out of him. Instead he rose from his seat, making his way for the exit while keeping an eye on his companions. Whispering a quick spell, Merlin felt his magic envelop him in an unseen shroud. A simple incantation, but one that would divert the ever watchful gaze of his king. Already he could see Arthur turn back to the table, a small furrow indicating his confusion. At the sight of Merlin, the king would be led to believe that the warlock had decided to retire early for the night. As long as Merlin returned before anyone realized he wasn't in one of the rooms, no one would know better. Good, because Arthur wouldn't really kill him if the king found out what the warlock planned.
The night was cool and the stars hung above his head as he walked the empty streets towards the outskirts. Somehow he found the village more disturbing at night where silence reign. Occasionally he thought he heard something, footsteps or perhaps whispers, but he found nothing amiss when he searched for the source. It left him more on edge. Surrounding the streets stood the buildings giving no relief to the darkness. Each one seemed to be devoid of life, dark and quiet in sharp contrast to the lively inn. It made Merlin wonder if the people of Assirith were hiding. It had not been long since the sunset, but they were all quick to leave the streets.
Following the road, he reached the edge of the village and was greeted by the expanse of land beyond. The path continued, narrowing again as it wove its way over the small hills and towards the forest. According to Gwaine, Merlin would have to keep following this road to reach Jarron's home, somewhere between the village and forest.
That bit of information soon proved to be true when the warlock reached another path. The dirt path branched off the side of the road, turning right towards a small house. Around it was a garden growing all kinds of fruits and vegetables while behind it he could spot a small barn. The house itself appeared to be run down, one of the windows cracked while the thatching of the roof was missing in spots. The simple wooden door looked battered and worn as it stood warped in its frame.
Glancing around, it wasn't hard to note how close the forest was to the house. Its looming trees appeared far closer than it was. The branches swayed to the slight breeze and a few birds fluttered out. However, what made Merlin uncomfortable was the feeling of someone watching. Whether due to the missing people, the darkness of night, or imposing nature of the trees, the warlock couldn't shake the feeling of eyes tracking his every move.
Then that feeling was washed away, gone as he took his first step off the road onto the path. Merlin let out a small gasp, allowing the sensation to brush over his being as he stretched out his magic to investigate. Someone had placed a ward over this land, one that seemed to stretch out and encompass the entire area surrounding the building. Though it was there to fend off an intruder, it did nothing to harm him. In fact, its protection was the first time Merlin felt at ease since arriving to Assirith. The enchantment was powerful and old, saturated into the very land with what felt to be layers upon layers of protection. The potential of power was great, great enough to overcome sorcerers, but none of it proved to Merlin it was malevolent. Then there was one other revelation. Could it be that the villagers were lying about the hermit they claimed to despise magic?
He supposed there was only one way to find out. Merlin just hoped his assumptions were correct, because there was still the potential of Jarron being their attacker. And if the man possessed magic of this magnitude to protect his home, Merlin may not be able to stop him unscathed.
AN: Hello! Going to keep this short cause I'm ill and ready to pass out for a bit xD
Next update will be set for Wednesday, September 24th. I have an exam on the 25th so this chapter might be posted a day early or a day late depending on how much of chapter 3 I can get edited this weekend and how much time I can spare from studying.
Thank you everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed! Hope you enjoy this quick fic!
As always, reviews and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated!
