(Authors note: Should have mentioned this before, this story gets violent. Torture and a bit of blood, but no really descriptive gore. Certain parts take place as flashbacks. These are Merlin's dreams, what actually happened before the knights showed up. Still don't own BBC's Merlin or the Arthurian legend.)

Part 2 Welcome to Hell

I had hoped I wouldn't dream but I did.

'Where am I?' The first thought in my head was pain and a sense of fear that I couldn't explain. I moved my arms and heard the clinking of chains.

'Chains?'

'Where was I?'

Still half conscious a horrible thought occurred to me. 'Arthur.' Had he really locked me up for my magic? I began to shake violently at the thought. But no. Memory was slowly creeping back. Arthur had known for almost a month now. He had even appointed me, what he called, Camelot's official court sorcerer. But then where was I?

I had regained enough feeling in my leg and sat up. My hands were manacled together, but not to the wall. I had never seen these kinds of cuffs before.

"Axspringhenge." The spell should have caused the cuffs to fall off, unlocked. Instead a sharp pain shot from the cuffs into my wrists like someone was holding a hot iron against them. I gasped and tried again. Once again the spell resulted only in pain. Then I investigated the cuffs further and let out a stream of non-magical curses.

Etched into the cuffs were symbols of the Old Religion. I knew these symbols. The one for magic was present on both cuffs, as was the symbol for the third circle. The reversal circle. These were designed to hold those with magic. They would turn any magic I used against me.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I breathed panic starting to rise. My head throbbed painfully. I reached my hand around to the back of my head. There was blood there, fairly dry but less than a day old.

Good, I hadn't been here more than a day, probably. My memory was foggy and broken. I shook my head trying to remember. Flashes of a forest and a booming threatening voice came to me, followed by the memory of a sharp pain at the base of my skull, then nothing. The cell was dark and I couldn't summon a light without hurting myself. Aside from my head I appeared to have a few bruises here and there but nothing too serious. Then I heard a voice that chilled my spine, for it was the last voice I remembered hearing.

"So my new prey is awake!" He laughed. The door to the cell opened and a large man filled the doorway. He was muscular and scared his smile far more terrifying than his size. Lumbering into the room he smirked down at me, helpless on the floor. I didn't dare try to stand lest my legs give out on me. Before I could react he reached down and snatched me up by the collar of my shirt. Holding me to his eye level with my feet above the ground I got a face full of his rancid breath.

"Welcome to Hell sorcerer. When I'm finished you won't even remember your own name." He grinned wickedly and dropped me to the floor. He waited until I caught my breath before savagely kicking me in the stomach. I doubled over, pain and defiance vying for control of my mind. Defiance won out and I felt a flash of power rise to the surface. I loosed it, letting it smack him against the opposite wall feeling the cuffs burn into my skin.

The man stood and I saw anger burn in his eyes, but something else lingered there too. Fear. He knew the cuffs were enchanted and I shouldn't have been able to hurt him. He strode back toward me and smacked me across the face knocking me to the floor. My lip was bleeding, so dry it had split the moment his hand had made contact with my face. I could already feel the bruise rising.

"Try something like that again and you'll get far worse than a split lip." He spat at me. Turning his back to me he walked out of the cell slamming the door behind him. For the first time in my life I felt true hatred rise up inside. It was bitter and vile. I spat blood and waited.

I must have slept for when I opened my eyes next the light streaming in from the cells tiny window was different, maybe midday. The floor of the cell was made of dirt and I made a mark in one of the corners. One day, well one day that I could remember. My mouth was dry and tasted of dust and the coppery tang of blood. The door creaked open and I found my captor smiling down at me once more.

"Time for a little fun eh sorcerer?" He grabbed me by my shirt and practically threw me into the hall. I stumbled and he lashed out, kicking my feet out from under me. He laughed as I struggled to my feet. Rage burned deep inside as he shoved me down the dank stone hall. But not rage for what he was doing, would do, to me. No, my rage steamed from the glimpses of gaunt white faces that peered out of cell windows, looking utterly broken. How many people did he have down here?

Soon we reached our destination, a room I would come to know all too well over the next few weeks, which to me felt alternately like minutes or years. It was plain stone, much like the cell I had been confined to, however one of the stone walls had a series of chains attached to it. They were all different lengths and positioned at different heights on the wall. I knew immediately what this room was for. There could be only one purpose for it. Torture. The large man unhooked the chains linking the cuffs on my wrists together. He did not however remove the cuffs, as I had been hoping he would.

Once he had the chains off he shoved me face first into the wall holding one of my arms painfully up at an angle that should have been impossible for me to achieve. He took his time finding the chain he wanted, openly enjoying my pain. My shoulder felt like it was on fire by the time he hooked the cuff to a chain and let go. He repeated the process with my other arm. Once both of my arms were restrained he let go. My arms were held securely but not at the painful angle he had held them at. I could see nothing but the wall in front of me. I heard him moving around behind me.

Then without any warning I heard a whooshing sound then felt pain as the whip mad contact with my back tearing effortlessly through my shirt. I must have gasped for I heard the man let out a triumphant laugh, then he snapped the whip across my back again, just a little harder.

"My name, sorcerer, is Clayton. And you are my special guest until somebody comes to buy you off me." My heart sank, slave trader.

I resisted the urge to howl with pain as the whip bit deep again, cutting into an old scar.

"Your name doesn't matter. All that matters is that you learn to do only what I say." I practically snarled at the next hit and I could feel him pause. I could feel magic rising to the surface and forced it down, but not before my eyes flashed gold and the chains groaned. I forced the magic back down; I couldn't let him find out the secret about my magic, the secret not even Arthur knew. I silently prayed that he would find me.

"Powerful one aren't you?" He was sneering now I could hear it in his voice. I laughed.

"You have no idea. I could do this all day." I forced bravado over the pain, defiance and anger over the fear. Clayton faltered once more. Then he laughed. It was higher and colder than it should have been. He wasn't used to this kind of resistance that was obvious.

"Good. I've been craving a challenge." He snapped the whip across my back again.

Several hours later he dropped me back in my cell. Had it only been hours? It felt like half a lifetime to may aching shoulders and stinging back.

I had to hold out. My destiny wasn't finished yet. Of one thing I was absolutely certain; this putrid hellhole was not the end.