Thankyou for all the reviews guys! I'm sorry I haven't got around to replying yet, but I will ^^
And, ye gods, I am broken after that episode of Merlin yesterday. And the preview for next week - I just can't.
But anyway, the next installment!
Enjoy, and please review (it means a lot to me) :D
Merlin fell against the crates stacked in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. Twisting his body, he let his shoulder rest against the old wood as his head tipped backwards. He didn't have the strength to even attempt to try and stand up.
"Emrys?"
The voice sounded unusually quiet, as if coming from a very long way off. Merlin blinked several times, slightly unnerved by how long it took for his eyes to focus. Finna had her hand on his shoulder.
"Morgana will be upon us soon." Merlin began to mumble something about leaving him, but Finna silenced him with a simple shake of her head. "I have information for you, Emrys. That was the whole point of this meeting – I bear a light in the darkness ahead."
Merlin must have closed his eyes again at some point, because the next thing he knew was a box being pressed into his hand. "Guard it well. It bears the knowledge of us all." Finna guided his hand to his chest, not letting go until she felt Merlin's fingers curl in acknowledgement around it. His face broke out into a slow smile. "Thank you," he breathed. He tried to look down, but every slight movement sent his head spinning. Instead, he ran his thumb along the object, mapping ever indent, every detail. "Thank you."
"Alator also has a message for you." There was a slight catch to her voice as she said his name. "One of great importance."
There was a great clatter of steel and a shout from the floor below. Merlin started, instantly regretting it as a wave of nausea washed over him. The noise was growing louder, fast.
Within seconds, Finna's hands were on his shoulders again, pulling him to his feet. He staggered, only just managing to catch himself. His legs were numb – in fact, his whole body was numb from the waist down, Merlin noted with a detached interest. When had that happened?
He didn't know – in fact, the whole ordeal had blurred into one mass of pain and Finna and pushing onwards. Pain had dulled his mind and his senses. One thing he did remember, though, was that numbness usually accompanied a heavy loss of blood, and preceded things far more serious.
Finna's words filtered through the haze as she pushed him towards the next staircase.
"You must not trust the druid boy."
Of course. It would be Mordred, wouldn't it?
"I don't."
"It's getting dark, Sire. We should probably head back to Camelot soon."
There was truth in Leon's words. To be honest, Arthur would have turned back hours ago, if not for the way that Mordred kept pushing them forwards. He admired the man's determination in finding this sorcerer, but he couldn't help wondering if there was a different reason that Mordred kept furtively wringing his hands like he had some weight on his shoulders that he couldn't get rid of.
"I understand," Arthur acknowledged , "But I –"
"Sire!" Mordred's shout came from the head of the group. "The tower's up ahead." And it was, a great stone spire that rose up out of the trees and cracked the sky like an ugly blade. If a sorcerer was to take refuge anywhere, it would be there.
Leon cocked an eyebrow.
"Mordred," Arthur began, unconsciously cracking his knuckles, "I appreciate how seriously you are taking this … hunt. But there is no guarantee that the sorcerer will be in this tower, and the area could be crawling with Saxons." He paused. "We will go back to Camelot. We've gone far enough."
Mordred's eyes widened slightly. He was still torn – Merlin may not be in the tower, but he might be. If he let Arthur go now, then the slight chance that Emrys really was in the tower meant that the responsibility for the prophecies never being fulfilled would fall on Mordred's shoulders. Did he really want that blood on his hands?
"Sire," Mordred faltered, "Let us at least go into the castle." His eyes pleaded silently at the older man, for some reason Arthur couldn't fathom. "We need somewhere to camp for the night, regardless – if the sorcerer is there, we have them cornered; if it's empty, then we have a highly defensible position. Surely it would waste more time making our way back now, when darkness will soon be upon us?"
There was truth in his words, Arthur conceded. Against his better judgement, he found himself wanting to agree with Mordred's idea – something about the knight's thirst for success, wanting to impress, struck a chord somewhere inside him.
"We carry on," Arthur said finally, sighing slightly, "Then we make camp, and leave at first light. We don't want to stay too long in these parts, not with Morgana on the loose."
Leon followed silently, hand never straying far from his sword.
"No." Merlin took in a shaky breath, his eyes focussed for the first time. "I am not leaving you here."
Finna smiled, small and resigned. "But you must."
Not again. Not another.
"Morgana doesn't know you are here – once she has me, she will give up the search."
"I can't let you do this –"
"I can't let her find you."
Merlin was angry. He shook his head, ignoring how the world turned upside-down. They had almost made it – but, again, Morgana had ripped through that possibility, desperate to claim another innocent life. Everything would have been okay if he she hadn't turned up, thirsty for blood.
Or if Gaius hadn't told Arthur in the first place. Then we wouldn't have been anywhere near that part of the forest, and I wouldn't have got shot, and –
Merlin had been a fool to think that everything would have turned out alright.
"It is my destiny to protect you. It would be an honour."
Moments passed. Morgana's screech floated up the staircase. Merlin couldn't stop shivering.
"I ask but one favour," Finna murmured quietly, still humble, even in the face of such a feat. Her voice held no fear for what was to come. "Lend me your sword."
Merlin let out a long breath. He was too tired.
"Anything." He offered the hilt, her wrinkled hand folding around it as if this had been her intention all along. It probably had.
Her old eyes had seen too much of this world to fear the next life. The smile that she gave him was reassuring and genuine. She motioned at him to leave. Numbly, he obeyed.
The breath stuck in Merlin's throat as he groped for the wall – if he fell over, he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to get up again. After everything, he wasn't sure that he wanted to.
"Emrys?" He turned, his eyes glistening somewhat. Their eyes locked. "It has been a privilege to meet you."
Those words broke something inside, after all the years of insignificance and mistakes and being told he was worthless. He swallowed thickly. "And you."
They didn't see Morgana's forces until the very last minute. Looking back on it, Arthur couldn't quite work out why – it wasn't like they were distracted, they simply just didn't hear their enemy in the tower until they themselves were standing at the very base of it.
The shout of "take the body, and burn it," was their first clue.
Arthur's eyes bulged in surprise.
"Fall back!" he mouthed angrily, grabbing the back of Mordred's hood and hauling him behind the stone wall. They froze, breathing heavily.
It was Mordred who broke the spell, offering a small, thankful smile. Peering cautiously around the stone, Arthur watched as a handful of men poured out of the entrance, one dragging a limp body, the others grumbling softly to themselves. The woman was old, a lot older than his father had been when he had died, and unmistakably dead.
Arthur couldn't suppress the wave of anger that swept through him. An old woman, defenceless, murdered in cold blood.
Arthur shifted slightly to get a better view.
There was a shout, a glimpse of black, and then Morgana swept out of the doors, anger written all over her face. Although she seemed furious, her voice was low, and Arthur could only catch snippets of her speech.
" – the one person who could tell us the identity of Emrys, and she actually had the cheek to – "
So that old woman was the sorcerer they had been tracking all this time. Unconsciously, he leaned in closer, wanting to hear more. The horses were mounted now, the old woman draped unceremoniously across one like some form of curtain. One arm hung limply from the saddle, as if reaching for some hand that wasn't there. Arthur felt the sudden wave of anger sweep over him again – she may be a sorcerer, but so was Morgana, therefore they had no right to treat her like that. Not in death, and not for someone so old. It was dishonourable.
" – find out who this Emrys actually is, I swear I'll – "
Arthur was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn't realise that they were riding towards him until it was too late. Head still poking out from behind the wall, he had perhaps five seconds before Morgana saw him, and everything was over.
He cursed silently.
Then Mordred's hand was on his shoulder pulling him back, slamming him against the wall, and Arthur closed his eyes, blessedly gulping in lungfuls of air. Hooves thundered past, and then there was silence.
After what seemed like an eternity, Arthur dared to move back out into the open.
"All clear." The others emerged from their hiding places, relief plain on their face.
"Well," Gwaine smirked, trying to diffuse the tension on the air, "That was an incredible stroke of luck." No one had to ask what he was referring to, just nodded quietly in agreement. If Morgana had seen them, there was no question that they would not still be standing right now.
Of course, no one else had seen Mordred's eyes glow a dim gold in the darkness, or hear his muttered chant that cloaked their appearance and muffled their sound. So, yes, it was a great deal of luck.
"I did not expect the sorcerer to be some old crone though," Gwaine continued, his voice light. "How she managed to move so fast is beyond me."
Arthur leant on his sword. "We should return to Camelot."
Mordred felt a spike of fear run through him for the first time since they'd seen Morgana. "No!" It came out rather more forcefully than intended.
"Mordred." Arthur had had enough of this. "The sorcerer is dead – that was the whole point of this exercise in the first place, to find them. Morgana is in the area, and Saxons are on the loose. We cannot afford to waste any more time!"
Arthur just could not understand why Mordred was so intent on getting them into that tower.
"What about the accomplice?" Mordred asked, grasping at straws. "There's a high chance they're still alive – Morgana hasn't found them, so they'll be hiding somewhere inside. And they'll have answers!" He needed to know that Merlin wasn't in there, to set his mind at rest.
Arthur looked answered him irritably. "We don't know if they're even in there. For all we know, Morgana's forces could be inside."
"But they would have information, Sire! Information about Morgana, about their plans – we've come so far, it would be foolish to –"
"I said no, Mordred!" Arthur didn't mean to shout, but he was just so frustrated. This whole trip had been for naught, and an army was amassing around his borders, and he didn't know why.
Mordred bowed his head, crushed. "I am sorry Sire. I did not mean to speak out of turn."
This was all his fault.
"If I may, Sire." Sir Leon stepped forwards, his expression unsure. "The trip back will take the good part of a day. There is perhaps an hour of good light left – surely it would be more tactical to stay here, camp in the tower, and set of at first light?"
Mordred cast a thankful glance in the man's direction.
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling. If he had known he would get this much trouble about the tower, he would never have agreed to going in the first place.
"Fine," he growled, unsheathing his sword. "Be on your guard."
On your heads be it.
