A/N I need to apologize to all you lovely people about the terrible wait but to explain you need to know I'm a craftsperson with my own company and this happens to be the most mentally busy time of year for personalised commissions of all kinds. I'm up to my ears in glass and fabric, porcelain and paint. This will be finished, however until mid December it tends to be completely nuts time wise so updates will be unpredictable.

Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou Doberler my lovely Beta, these chapters really wouldn't be the same without you, your insights and your fab additions.

Merlin really isn't mine.


Screaming.

Chapter 3.

They were taken to the far side of the camp, to a spot well away from the majority of tents and on the opposite bank of the stream.

They were now over the border, had entered the lands under the protection of Nemeth. Arthur was very conscious of the precarious nature of his being here. If Nemeth hadn't been an ally it could have been construed as an act of war. Even as allies, it would be a dicey prospect to be found on this bank, until he could explain to King Rodor and Princess Mithian. He did wonder if any of their citizens had been laid low, or if Camelot had been targeted specifically.

As they approached two larger than average fabric roofed shacks set slightly apart from the rest, he couldn't help but feel that they may get at least some of the answers they sought.

The Druid in front disappeared beneath the faded red cloth of the foremost hut, ducking to avoid the crosspiece at the entrance of the structure. Arthur and his knights did the same. Inside, it was slightly taller than they, and far wider than it had looked from the outside, walls of woven wattle stuffed with moss to help ward off any wind chill. A box made of metal and glass hung suspended from a chain secured into the roof beam of the structure. Arthur had never seen its like before and wondered at both its purpose and if it were something to do with magic. His mind shied from the thought, but Arthur knew he would have to get used to it, both thinking and being around it if this were a magical malady. They may need magic to counteract it. He didn't like the implications if such were the case, but he would cross that bridge when or if he came to it.

Woven matting made of some kind of broad leafed grass covered the hard packed dirt floor, and around a dozen three-legged stools arrayed around a fire pit made up the only furniture. Was this some kind of meeting room? Their equivalent of a council chamber? It was rough as could be expected of a temporary dwelling, but surprisingly well organised for all that.

At the moment there were no others present. They had seen no one else since they had arrived and Arthur started to believe they wouldn't see anyone else. But the flap once again moved to admit another Druid, a very familiar looking Druid and one to which their original guide bowed his head in respect. Ah, so this man was higher in the hierarchy. Was he the headman, their leader?

"Arthur Pendragon. I must admit to being surprised at your visit." The cadence of his voice was also one he had heard before, he was sure of it.

"I know you." He wracked his brain trying to figure out where he might have seen him before, and then it clicked all of a sudden, and he flushed slightly in shame as the man turned slightly to talk quietly with their guide, who then slipped out of the tent-like hut beckoning for his men to follow and muttering about food. After one glance at Arthur, who gave a reluctant nod, his knights followed the guide in search of sustenance. In a camp full of magic users who seemed terrified of them all, it was highly unlikely anything would happen to them. And even if it did, there was not much they could do to counteract so much magic with so few swords. It would be best to give a measure of trust now, even if it did make him feel naked and vulnerable to be without his shadows.

"You were the man I gave the care of a Druid boy a few years ago, and the one who held the Cup of Life. You move around a lot it seems."

"Ah, you remember me. I didn't think you would. I am Iseldir, an elder of this clan. And yes, we do have several camps we make use of according to the seasons and circumstance."

And that would have made Arthur flush a deeper shade if he hadn't been better able to control the outward appearance of his emotional responses. He could imagine some of those circumstances would have involved the unwelcome arrival of red cloaks bearing a rampant gold dragon if the reaction at their current appearance was anything to go by.

"Forgive me but, you do not seem very surprised to see us, Iseldir. And yet we never saw anyone as we came in who could have told you of our arrival so quickly."

"I should think you of all people would know that even if you cannot see something it does not mean it is not there." The man was radiating affability and amusement. A distinct contrast in greeting to the other man's anxiety and air of hostility. And yet that same air made it seem as if his words were some kind of lesson to be learned and Arthur the errant pupil. It was not perhaps the best start they could have since it made Arthur's hackles rise. He had to make a conscious effort to push such feelings back down. Now was not the time for pride nor kingly arrogance. The small voice at the back of his mind telling him so sounded suspiciously like Merlin, and even went so far as to call him a prat.

"Now please, my lord. Sit. We have much to discuss." The hard stools were not the most comfortable, but better than the floor at any rate.

"You know why we are here?"

"Fendril informed me, yes. He will gather the elders; decisions will need to be made and provisions put in place." He paused then, as if assessing the young Pendragon. "How much do you know of what has occurred?" It seemed altogether too hesitant that question, as if he were assessing how much to tell him. Perhaps due to Arthur's suspicions of its origin or a natural wariness on the part of the Druids. Either way, Arthur had already determined to be scrupulously honest, as little could be gained from any dissembling.

"Only that it's widespread, affecting every corner of the kingdom, even here. The victims are random, seeming to have nothing in common. The remaining healers are baffled by it; by all rights they should be dead with how little they are getting in the way of food or water and…" He paused here, not knowing if it would cause offence to state the conclusion everyone in the country seemed to have come to.

"And…?"

"We believe it was caused by magic." There. It was out. And the man…Iseldir, didn't seem the least put out by it. He would have thought they might be, given their close association with magic, and the Pendragon house having such a bad reaction to anything magic related.

"You would be correct in that assumption."

He was? Arthur's brows rose into his hairline, too late to conceal his shock. And the man had admitted it with nary a murmur? Most users of magic would have denied it, he was sure.

"So," he began cautiously, already thinking along the lines of Morgana, but hesitant to say it aloud, "who would cast such a spell? Why are the victims so diverse? And how do we fix it?"

"Not a 'who', my lord, or rather not entirely, but a 'what'." Arthur looked at him blankly, and the Druid let out a soft sigh, settling in for the lengthy explanations that would be needed.

"During the height of the great magic, when the priestesses of the Old Religion held the reins of power and the kingdoms were little more than feuding baronies, there were objects made of and with magic in order to control the population. Many such creations were destroyed during the purge or put to use against the very people who had made them. A few were smuggled out with trusted members of the priesthood and hidden."

Arthur caught on rather quickly to what this impromptu history lesson was getting at. "You believe one of these artefacts is the cause? That is why you thought we had a hand in it? Because Camelot has been known to use them before." That wasn't a question, and Arthur heard the word 'hypocrite' clearly in his head. "But what would the purpose be, and why would it affect such randomly diverse people?"

"Ah, but they are not entirely random. It targets groups of people who display a certain...mind-set, shall we say. They share particular traits and aspects of their…character." Arthur was now openly sceptic, and he didn't miss how carefully Iseldir chose his words.

"Right…let's say I believe you. That these victims have all been selected due to their 'personalities' being similar. Why? What would it gain them?"

"Well, quite apart from the natural chaos such a sudden attack would cause, Fendril also mentioned that most of your healers were amongst their number."

And just like that Arthur could see exactly what the Druid was implying. This had sent the realm into a frenzy, and the people they relied on to patch up any wounds and illnesses were now lying there comatose, causing yet more panic, but also depriving them of a major asset in case of war.

The opening of the flap signalling the return of his knights went unheeded by the king, concentrating as he was on Iseldir's words. The fragrant soup Leon handed him wordlessly was set down at his side even as he acknowledged his first knight with a nod.

"You believe someone is weakening us in order to defeat us more easily in battle."

"It is a possibility." The sheer ingeniousness of it was terrifyingly brilliant.

The implication greatly disturbed Arthur, and he shifted uncomfortably on the stool. His knights doing the same, had obviously arrived in the midst of a delicate conversation and were staying blessedly silent. "So, how do we counteract it? Is there a way?" If a war were to be imminent, he would need every resource at his disposal at full strength.

"There is. You must remove the victims from the object's influence, and then find the source and destroy it." He said it as if it were a simple feat, but Arthur could already envision that it would be anything but. The knights at his back all gave murmured protests, wordless and indistinct, but conveying all the frustration Arthur was feeling right now.

"What do you mean remove them from its influence? How?"

"The object you are searching for is a disc of silver roughly the diameter of your palm. It is etched and moulded with designs and sigils of the Old Religion. This disk, once activated, creates a deadening effect around it. Depending on how fine-tuned the person wielding it has made it, the circle of its influence can be just a few meters, or in this case, a few leagues."

The sheer scale of what Arthur was facing suddenly made itself known with only that one statement. To search so vast an area for one small object, when the threat of war might be all too real by persons unknown, it was far and away too much to cope with.

"And just how are we to find this mystery disc?" It sounded harsher than he'd intended, but now was not the time for walking on eggshells or tiptoeing around the issue. "If what you are saying is true, there would be too much ground to cover to look for it, or the sorcerer who wields it."

"And it is made worse by the fact it may not have been wielded by a sorcerer at all." Iseldir's voice had taken on the timbre of a teacher for a particularly dim-witted student. Arthur did not much care for it, especially whilst he issued highly confounding statements such as the last. Leon, for his part, snapped his head toward the Druid, a stern reproach on his lips. But he kept silent when Arthur gave him a look, conveying with his eyes that he should let it go as he had, now not the time to take umbrage at a lack of respect. God knows they had cause.

"Come again? What exactly do you mean by 'it may not have been wielded by a sorcerer'? As far as I'm aware, magic must be manipulated by a magic user, hence a sorcerer…or sorceress, I suppose."

Iseldir looked taken aback for a moment, as if it had never occurred to him that Arthur would be so ignorant of even the most basic facts about magic.

"I had not realised that your education had been so lacking, Arthur Pendragon. Did your father never take you down to his vaults, or boast about his many acquisitions? There are many items your father deemed useful in his fight; magical items that did not need a sorcerer to use them, and indeed could be used against them. Your father was not against such tactics when it was he who held them." And that had not sounded bitter at all! Arthur caught another glare of disapproval from Leon, and gave him that look again, this time accompanied with a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

It made it seem somewhat reassuring that this man could be capable of feeling bitter. His air of forgiveness and serenity in the face of what was supposed to be one of his peoples' greatest enemies had seemed somewhat superhuman, and Arthur had not entirely trusted it. Now…now he seemed more approachable, more normal, and just as fallible as the rest of his flawed companions.

And yes. His father had briefly expounded on the subject of magic-suppressing cuffs, which he had thought somewhat hypocritical since they had to have been made with magic, but he had never mentioned anything else. And everything down in the vaults was just a jumble of magical paraphernalia that was inventoried quarterly, and was considered valuable and arguably dangerous. But it had seemed to be folly for him to ask about their purposes since it sent his father off into rages about magic and all its evils every time. Now it just highlighted both his ignorance and the depth of his parent's hypocrisy.

"So it could be anyone? Great, just fabulous in fact. And how exactly are we to take our people outside of its influence if we don't even know how far that stretches?"

"You can bring them here."

Arthur, just about to launch yet another question at the Druid, paused at that. "Here?"

"I was one of those who fell." The king looked at him with disbelief and the Druid made haste to explain. "Luckily, the healer tents…" Iseldir gestured around at the structure they were in and the vague direction of its twin. "…are just outside the circle, and my kinsmen had the intelligence to realise that we recovered rather quickly once we were brought here. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation. It is one of the reasons Fendril came to greet you. Whilst the disc is active, we cannot move across the stream. It would cause the same reaction and we'd collapse as previous. But we know this area is free from the magic that has caused this." He stared thoughtfully at the king. "So, unless you wish to move your people all across Albion looking for another such spot, it would be a simple matter for them to come here as our guests."

Arthur thought it sounded more like a dare, reiterated by the slight challenge in his gaze, but right now, he had no other options. He thinned his lips and looked round at his knights, finally getting a chance to gauge their reactions to all they'd heard after their return. Their expressions and body language made it clear they felt even more suspicious than he did.