The prince was no where near as oblivious as his manservant seemed to think. He noticed Merlin looking down, worrying at the leather thong he liked to wear round his wrist.
A nervous gesture.
No matter that he'd known his servant for years now, Merlin was still a mystery. He could be foolishly brave—rash to a fault—at times leaving Arthur near-breathless with fear. Not that he would ever admit it. At other times—like the present—Merlin was a complete ninny. Arthur had no idea which he preferred.
"Like I said, don't be such a girl Merlin. I will be back for supper. You can come or not."
They'd reached the stables and as Merlin looked up, Arthur thrust out his shoulder armor impatiently. "Well? It's not going to put it self on Merlin."
"Right. Sorry sire!" and with that, the subject seemed closed.
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Once everyone was mounted up, the prince led the small band with Merlin riding at his side as usual (never mind what others thought of a servant's place). As Merlin glanced back he could see the others were completely unperturbed—they looked like they were enjoying a leisurely trip through the woods.
Arthur and the knights discussed politics and horse-flesh in the region as they sauntered along. Slowly, Merlin's shoulders—which had been hiked up around his ears with tension—relaxed. His death-grip on the reins began to loosen. Maybe Arthur had been right…perhaps he'd overreacted.
As they neared Elswick, Sir Goodwater couldn't help but poke a bit of fun at the prince. They'd known each other since they were both boys. Pointing at a swayback nag blinking wearily at them from behind a short stone fence he quipped, "that bit of flesh reminds me of your first love Arthur. Remember Rosalind The Timid? Oh how she mooned for you. Looked just like that pretty one over there!"
Merlin snorted.
"Baildon!" Though his voice was stern, Arthur's smirk and use of the knight's first name said otherwise. "Poor Rose looked nothing like that animal! Your twin sister on the other hand…" The group sniggered as the first homes drew into sight.
They'd been expected and a villager rushed out to greet the small party with a deep bow. He was taller than the man Arthur'd talked to in the morning but the bird-like features suggested a family tie. "Sire."
Arthur looked imperiously down from the saddle—once again acting like a horse's arse Merlin thought. At times it seemed arrogance was as integral to Arthur's person as the prince's untidy blond hair.
Merlin cleared his throat nosily and gave Arthur a glance that stated as clearly as any words could "Get off your high horse Arthur."
Arthur rolled his eyes but dismounted. Merlin and the knights followed suit.
"Good sir…" the prince began.
Though Arthur didn't see it, Merlin smiled at his master's back. Haughtiness might come naturally to Arthur, but he was certainly willing to try and overcome his faults. Most of the time. He was going to be an amazing king.
"Sire. Thank you so much for coming…" the bird-man rung his hands and glanced nervously at his feet.
"What is it?" the prince asked.
"Do you think you have…do you think you brought enough men sire?" The farmer's gaze flickered to Merlin who likely looked like he'd be of no use at all. Perhaps—the farmer's expression seemed to wonder—the prince had brought this narrow servant as bait?
"We will be fine…" Arthur grumbled, earning himself another glance from Merlin and added "thank you. Please, where was the creature last seen?"
"If you are sure Sire." With Arthur's nod he continued "The monster attacked my sister's husband as he rode in the day before last." He pointed down a narrow trail; the trees formed a shadowy green archway "a short bit that way."
Arthur simply nodded. Almost as one, the prince and the knights swung up onto their mounts. A moment later, Merlin had fumbled up onto his horse—somehow snagging his sheathed dagger on a stirrup—and they were off.
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The group was more subdued as they traveled the thin path. Arthur was not expecting a werewolf to leap out at them but neither was he stupid or frivolous with the lives of his men. It wasn't long before a set of tracks became apparent.
"What did I tell you? Wolf prints." Arthur muttered.
After an hour of tracking, back-tracking, and twice having to reestablish the trail the group indeed caught up with a wolf. As it streaked away through the underbrush, Merlin thought the animal a bit small to have taken all those goats—never mind to have killed a horse. He wished for the hundredth time that day for his magic.
But a moment later, the wolf was backed into a rocky outcrop; a semi-circle of Camelot's finest surrounding it. Sir Kay dismounted lightly and approached carefully, broadsword first, as the others kept the animal in place.
Merlin felt for the trapped beast, he could feel its fear "Does it have to die Arthur?" he whispered.
"For the tenth time Merlin, yes. This animal has shown itself dangerous, how would I feel if it took a child next?"
In a blur of action, the scared creature leapt and Sir Kay caught it dead on, burying his sword into its chest.
"Excellent stroke!"
"Thank you Sire" Kay grunted with a grin.
It all happened (as these things do) in the blink of an eye.
Arthur turned towards Merlin, the knights moved to sheath their weapons, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief, Kay pulled his sword free, and a huge mangy creature burst powerfully from the brush!
The beast charged forward, a mass of noise and fur. It swiped at the dismounted knight; Kay was dead before he hit the ground.
The horses were rearing even as Arthur and his men pulled for their swords. Merlin heard the ring of Arthur's sword being pulled smoothly from its scabbard.
In an instant, Merlin had leapt down to check the fallen knight; he hit the ground running "Sir Kay! Kay!" Merlin cursed his foolishness—he should have made sure they had never come here!
To Arthur's horror the massive bear swung towards his servant.
"Merlin! No!" he called out, as if hoping his words could somehow reverse time and the oaf would be back on his horse—not standing in front of a charging beast.
For a moment, all Arthur could see was the wide back, muscles rippling under spotty patches and loose clumps of fur. The creature screamed—there was no other word for the sound that tore the air. A massive paw streaked towards his friend. The bear roared and swiped again.
Arthur felt as though his very self had drained away in one fell swoop—face and arms suddenly bloodless and cold. In unfettered panic he was off his horse, sword out, and running for the spot he's last seen his utterly rash servant "Merlin!"
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In the short instant he'd knelt with the knight—trying to help the injured man—Merlin had been drenched in Kay's blood. He threw himself back just as the immense claws swished passed his face—so closely he was sure he saw them spatter gore. Pure terror flooding his veins Merlin could not have moved if his life depended on it.
Truthfully, it did.
In that moment, Merlin was frozen. Through the one tiny window in his mind still open, Merlin was vaguely aware that Arthur was screaming his name. He was even more vaguely aware that there was a note of fear in his prince's voice. Unable to do more than stare up as the bear reared back to strike him down, Merlin's mind became uniquely clear. He was going to be dead in a moment. Oh…Gaius, he thought sadly.
Then, Arthur was there.
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As their eyes locked, the prince's heart leapt—Merlin was alive!
Eyes wild, Arthur realized that his friend was covered in blood. The prince's gut clenched painfully. Merlin must have been mauled…the blood…Arthur didn't know what to do…couldn't think straight…
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Merlin saw Arthur's eyes flash relief then despair; the fallen boy's brain couldn't keep up.
For a quarter of an instant the prince stood brilliant in the sun, sword and mail shining, with a nod so brief Merlin might have imagined it, Arthur charged the creature. His sword darted forwards and disappeared into the bear. With a yell the prince leapt back as the dying creature struck out one last time.
It almost missed.
Two deadly claws ripped through Arthur's exposed flesh. One caught him under the left ear, the other inches below that. Both raked deep until the chain mail stopped them.
Merlin could not—would not—believe his senses. A primal scream tore from his parched throat "Arthur!"
Arthur's most loyal servant and companion sprang to his feet, bear and Kay completely forgotten. Time slowed to a stomach-turning crawl. Almost in-step with one another the bear folded—collapsing and Arthur spun loosely—sword dropping silently to the forest floor.
As Arthur fell to his knees, scarlet sparkled in the sun—pouring from his gaping wounds. Like a man exhausted, Arthur was toppling as Merlin finally reached his prince. With shaking arms Merlin lowered Arthur to the dusty ground. He didn't even hear himself screaming Arthur's name—the world having gone strangely silent.
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Arthur's head lolled and he lost consciousness to Merlin's screams.
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I know this chapter was a bit long, thanks for reading! Feedback pretty please?