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DAUGHTER OF EREBUS
By TIPPER


CHAPTER THREE: KING OF THE BURLAP SACK

Malcon sighed as the boy collapsed, hitting the table before slipping to the floor like deadweight. With a jerk of his hand, he indicated at Jason to encase him in the empty feed sack their patron had stolen from the kitchens. It should be large enough to carry him, though he was taller than Malcon had remembered. Tall, but skinny. With luck, that also meant not too heavy.

He glanced at Camilla, who was frowning slightly as she studied the boy she'd just felled.

"Good job," he offered, meaning it as he always did. It amazed him that she stayed with him, considering what she could do.

"Something odd about this boy," she said, ignoring his praise, her Greek accent clipping the edges of her consonants. "Like he could see through me."

Malcon shrugged. "I don't know what that means, and, honestly, I don't care. He went down like they all do when you touch them. I assume he'll be down for a few hours."

She nodded. "Anywhere from three to four," she replied, stepping away. She studied the room as Jason and Aaron worked together to muscle Merlin into the sack. "The room is too neat. He did not fight very hard."

"We didn't give him a chance," Malcon said, smiling briefly. He kicked at the bench that had toppled over. "But you're right. It could use a little more chaos."

Camilla grinned and backed up as Malcon got his hands under the table and, with a heave, upended it, sending glass vials and bottles crashing to the floor, skittering around Camilla's feet. Laughing, she stepped over them daintily and pushed over a small bookcase, sending the papers on it flying.

"Better," she said, dancing a little in the mess before moving to stand at Malcon's side. Between them, Jason and Aaron lifted up the sack with Merlin in it and tipped the boy over Aaron's broad shoulder.

"You got him?" Malcon asked. Aaron grunted an affirmative to his boss, shifting the sack higher on his shoulder. "Good," the bandit leader said, scratching again at the welts on his neck. "Then let's get the hell out of here—this place give me even more hives than I've already got."

As the others filed out, Jason in the lead to make sure no one was coming, Malcon picked up a knife from another table and drew a paper their patron had written on from his pocket. Once they were all out, he pressed the note to the face of the open door, stabbing it in place with the knife.

_ ... _


Gwen slipped through the servants' hallway, trying not to notice how the people she used to call friends ducked their heads and avoided her gaze. Swallowing thickly, she reached the small door that led into the council room and sighed slightly. Gathering her self-confidence, she pushed the door open and stopped.

As she'd expected, no one in the room looked at her, except a few of the servants standing at attention. The lords and ladies paid no notice to anyone coming in via the servant's entrance, as they typically paid no attention to the servants. It gave her a moment to survey the room, to see who was there and who wasn't.

All the men were present, including Gaius and Sir Leon, both standing near Arthur as he considered a map of the kingdom on the table and listened to something Lord Bailor was saying. Of the ladies, they were crowded under the windows, whispering amongst themselves. Only Lady Humphries seemed to be listening to the men, playing nervously with a ring on her finger, one with a large lapis stone ("a ring with a large blue stone on it, about the size of a robin's egg," she remembered Merlin telling her). She stood apart, closer to Gwen than the others.

Lady Bailor was absent, as was Lady Perrin and Lady Exestan, and the fact that Lady Perrin was missing in particular definitely rang some alarm bells….

Gwen walked forward, heading for Lady Humphries. The young woman was actually younger than Gwen, only a little over twenty years in age. She and Lord Humphries had not been married long, six months at most. There was a certain hesitant air about the woman, her shoulders always bowed forward and her arms around her chest, as if she wasn't sure where she stood with anyone. It came mostly from not being of noble birth—Eleanor was the daughter of a wealthy merchant who married into nobility in exchange for a large dowry. Gwen knew what that was like, being thrust into a world where you hadn't previously belonged. Oh yes, it was something she knew all too well.

"Hello Eleanor," Gwen greeted softly. Lady Humphries nearly jumped a mile, her pale face blushing bright red at the improper reaction.

"Your majesty," Eleanor whispered shakily, bowing low. "I did not see you enter. My apologies. I—"

Gwen stilled her nervous words with a hand to her arm and a quiet smile. "I wanted to enter unobtrusively," she assured. "Your reaction is understandable. It's I who should apologize."

Eleanor smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Have you been here the whole time?" Gwen asked. "Listening to the men?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No. No, I only came in a little while ago." She lowered her eyes, shoulders slumping slightly. "It was a difficult night," she admitted. "After Arthur's announcement last night, my lord was up all night worrying about…." She bit her lip as if to forestall any further words, and then shook her head. "I decided to rest a little longer this morning, so I have only been here for a few moments."

Gwen's smile tightened slightly, not liking the news. She did not want to suspect Eleanor—she'd felt a kinship with the woman when she'd met her, both having married for love above their stations. "I understand." Looking towards the other ladies, she then asked. "I see a few others are missing as well?"

Eleanor gave a nod. "I understand that Lady Bailor, Lady Exestan and Lady Perrin have all come down with some sort of malady of the stomach." She gave a tiny frown. "The Lady Gwent was more than happy to tell me all about it, asking if I suffered from the same. She seemed disappointed that I did not."

Gwen huffed a small laugh. "I can imagine." The Lady Gwent made the gossiping fishwives of the lower town look like amateurs. "It was just those three ladies, then?"

Eleanor gave a nod. "Everyone else is here, and has been, so I understand." She looked sidelong at Gwen. "I hope you did not suffer from that malady as well, your majesty. The Lady Gwent seemed to think you might."

"Of course she did," Gwen replied, not surprised in the least. The Lady Gwent may act respectful, but the woman's true feelings for Gwen were not hidden. Anything to take the new "peasant queen" down a peg. Gwen gave the woman a dark look—The Lady Gwent hadn't seen her yet, still holding court amongst the other ladies, her silver streaked black hair tightly wound about her head in perfect, snake-like coils. Secretly, Gwen had hoped The Lady Gwent might have been missing from the room as well.

Sighing slightly in disappointment, she turned her attention back to Lady Humphries, to find Eleanor giving her a curious look.

"Is something amiss, your majesty?" Eleanor asked. "You looked…" She hesitated, as if unsure of the word. "Perturbed."

"I am fine," Gwen promised, and smiled. "Please, do not worry." And with what she hoped was an encouraging nod for the girl, she strode deeper into the room to make her presence known.

Sir Leon saw her first, snapping to attention and bowing deeply. That caught the other's attentions, and soon Gwen was giving a bowing room a nod of thanks. Arthur, of course, didn't bow, he just strode around the table to her side, taking her hand and kissing it.

"My dear," he said, "you have joined us after all."

"I have," she concurred. "Though I would like a moment of your time, if possible. I know you were thinking of adjourning for a short time around now." She glanced at the window, and Arthur followed her gaze, measuring the time as she was.

"Actually, yes, that is true," he said, sighing slightly, almost in relief. "And doing it now would be a great idea." Considering the overbearing Lord Bailor had been the one talking, Gwen did not need to imagine why. Turning, Arthur announced to the room that the servants would soon be bringing in a mid-morning's repast and inclined his head at George who immediately vanished to alert the wait-staff. Upon seeing the mild-mannered servant leave, Gwen recalled that Merlin was waiting, and she tugged insistently on Arthur's sleeve as he finished telling everyone that they would adjourn for an hour. When he looked at her, she indicated that he step away to the side. His expression darkened at her demeanor—he clearly knew something was wrong.

When they reached a corner, Arthur raised a hand before she could speak. "If this is about Merlin, Gwen, I—"

"It's about someone planning to steal from Camelot's vaults," Gwen replied sharply, keeping her voice low. "But you need to hear the story from the one who overheard the thieves' plans."

_ ... _


Arthur tried not to doubt Merlin's sincerity as he led the way to the physician's quarters, with Gwen, Sir Leon and Gaius in tow, but it was difficult. It was a little too convenient that, on the day he banned Merlin from attending him in High Council, his servant would have learned of a plot against the kingdom. He found himself cracking the knuckles of his fists as he walked, wanting to trust Merlin, but nonetheless suspecting a plot to wheedle his way back into the room. Through Gwen, no less. If he used Arthur's wife's friendship to get to him….

He slowed when he saw the door was open, frowning slightly. There was a strong odor wafting through it, filling the hall, like brimstone.

What the hell?

Arthur picked up his pace, almost jogging as he hit the opening, only to come to an immediate dead stop.

"What the hell?" he demanded, out loud this time.

The room was in shambles—one of the tables was on its side, and there was glass and liquid spilled everywhere. Some of the liquids appeared to be smoking, and it was the smoke that was giving off the sulfurous fumes. Something else sounded like it was fizzing.

"Oh my lord," Gaius said, pushing past Arthur into the room. "What happened here?" And then he looked up, his gaze clearly on the doorway to the small room in the back of the quarters. "Merlin?" He started in that direction, moving quickly. "Merlin!"

Arthur stopped him before he reached the steps, and Sir Leon stepped in front of them both, his sword unsheathed and balanced in front of him.

"Merlin?" Leon called, gently pushing the door open and stepping inside. A moment later, he stuck his head back out into the room, shaking it. "Empty."

Gwen's gasp of dismay echoed around the room. Arthur turned to see her pull a note from off the door—something none of them had noticed when they'd first entered.

"What is it?" he asked. Gwen skimmed the note, and looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Someone's taken him," she said, holding the note towards them with a shaking hand. "They want gold for his return."

Arthur rocked back a step, like he'd been slapped, all thoughts going out of his head except the imperative to get Merlin back now.

_ ... _


Merlin shivered, feeling increasingly ill as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

He was cocooned inside a burlap sack, that much was obvious, the coarse fabric scratched through the thin fabric of his shirt. He was also hot, sticky and, since he hadn't had the chance to change his clothes, still smelled like the marsh, which wasn't doing his stomach any favors. He was also painfully aware that he was slung over a horse, as the horse's constantly shifting shoulders bruised his belly—like being repeatedly punched in the same place over and over and over. He would have groaned, but fear kept him quiet. He didn't want them to know he was awake, since he suspected he wasn't supposed to be.

The magic that had knocked him out had been cold and strange—almost ethereal—like it came from someplace altogether different from his own. It had reminded him of something, but he couldn't grasp what it was. Almost as if his mind were blocking the memory of it, like something terrible it wanted to keep buried. But he knew he'd felt it's like before, he just had to remember when.

Either way, his own magic had rebelled against it, keeping him from succumbing completely. In a way, he hadn't fallen asleep at all—just dozed—while his magic had burned away the enchantment on him.

Burned. The word had come unbidden, but it seemed right. His magic sometimes felt like a fire in his chest, thrumming with life. This woman's magic was like water, silvery and cool, more like the touch of death. It had coated his mind briefly, but didn't settle, and he had started to force it out of him, though he could tell it still lingered, like a slow to fade poison, making him feel even sicker than the sack and stomach pummeling did alone.

But more than anything, he just need the constant movement to stop, because if it didn't do so soon….he was going to throw up inside this sack.

As if hearing his pleas, the horse he was lying across slowed and halted, and muffled voices were raised in greeting. There was another sound as well, like wind chimes and murmurs. A chill ran down his spine, hoping that didn't mean what he thought it did. Uneasiness settled in his bones, and whispers touched his ears. No, please no….

He was suddenly grabbed from behind and roughly pulled off the horse, dumped onto the hard ground like a sack of feed, and he couldn't stifle the gasp of pain from the harshness of it.

"He's awake?" Someone asked nearby.

Merlin closed his eyes as he felt hands grabbing at the sack, and then a knife stabbed through the fabric, very close to his head, causing him to flinch.

"Oh, yeah," another voice said, chuckling, "he's awake."

Within seconds, the knife had cut an opening in the burlap, and Merlin found himself blinking muzzily out at the bright light of day. His stomach roiled, bruised and abused muscles seeking release, filling his mouth with saliva, but he kept the bile down as he tried to get his bearings.

"I thought you expected him to be asleep for a few hours?" A third voice said, and this time, Merlin recognized it as the leader of the bandits, Malcon. "It's barely been two."

"Normally, he should be, but I told you there was something odd about him," a woman answered. Camilla.

Someone standing by his head said, "It might've been the result of being pulled off the horse. He didn't make a sound the entire way here." The man with the voice knelt down and looked at Merlin, a large stocky man with dark hair. "How long you been awake, boy?"

"Guh…" Merlin's mouth was insanely dry. "Wh….Where am I?" He played up the grogginess, which wasn't hard. "How'd I get here?"

The man smiled and turned his head to speak to Malcon, whom Merlin realized was standing before them both.

"See, boss? Just woke up."

Near Malcon, Merlin watched Camilla frown deeply, her arms crossing over her chest. Malcon, though, simply shrugged.

"Alright. You and Jason tie him to one of the trees. We have a lot of work to do."

Roughly, Merlin was pulled from the sack, his mind still a bit foggy. When his legs attempted to get their bearings, though, they seemed suddenly incapable of holding his weight, and he collapsed. Hands under his arms pulled him up again, and, at the abrupt motion…he promptly threw up all over the ground at Malcon's feet.

He didn't look up, to see the leader's expression, but from the snickering around him, the others apparently thought it pretty funny. Merlin just felt even more wretched, sagging in the arms of the people holding him.

"Just get him out of here," Malcon growled. "I'm sick of looking at him already."

Merlin tried to say something else as he was pulled away, to argue that he deserved answers, but Malcon was already walking away in the opposite direction. He'd hoped they would at least tell him why he was here, why they had taken him. If they'd wanted to silence him, why not just kill him? All he knew for sure was that he was in trouble, and, so long as he felt like death warmed over from the silvery magic, he wasn't going to try any of his own magic to make some sense of it. Worse, he wasn't sure if Camilla, whatever she was, would be able to tell if he was using it.

So he let himself be dragged across the ground to a tree…though, considering how weak he felt, "let" might be a little generous a term. The dirt underneath was wet, almost black like peat, and the green grass a little too bright. As they unceremoniously dumped him next to the tree and turned him over so that he was sitting against it, he got his first good look at where he was.

Horror filled him when he saw the colored strips of cloth and the chimes hanging from the low tree branches. His fears had been realized-the thieves were hiding in a shrine. Now the uneasiness he felt, the chill and the whispers, felt more real and more terrible.

But it was a perfect hiding place for the thieves, he knew. Without even intending it, most people avoided shrines, even if they couldn't hear the voices like Merlin could. They just looked the other way, detoured around the area, all to avoid the feeling this place instilled. And with good reason. Merlin just had to pray that the spirits residing here didn't possess anyone. Especially not him.

The two men pulled his arms back and tied them tightly around the tree he had been shoved against. He tried not to panic too much at the feeling of helplessness that it engendered, but his fear must have been obvious, because the stockier of the two men gave him what was probably meant to be a kindly smile.

"It'll be alright, son. If you behave, we won't be hurtin' ya. It's not who we are."

Merlin just blinked at him, as if he were speaking in a foreign tongue.

"Please," he whispered. "Why…Why am I here? Is it just so I won't talk?"

"Don't worry on it. As I said, if you behave, you won't be here long."

Merlin wished that provided more comfort, but it just left him feeling even more scared. He looked away, trying to gain comprehension of what was happening around him. The area didn't look much different from the one where Arthur had freed the spirit that had possessed Elyan, though it was less rocky. Large dark trees towered overhead, blocking out much of the sunlight and creating natural barriers that split up the band into small groups. The mossy ground itself was carved and shaped around the trees, as if it had been tamed to hold small, earthen homes, though no sign of those existed except in imagination. Malcon's men flitted around, moving in and out of the trees like ghosts, much quieter than he'd seen them in the marsh, clearly in deference to the shrine's affect. The same tents he'd seen before had been moved here, and a couple of small fires were burning to cook food, probably for lunch, based on the angle of the sun through the trees. He realized it had only been a couple of hours since he'd tried to warn Arthur in the castle, and they'd moved everything in that time. Which, damn, meant they had moved fast. Though, Merlin supposed, it was probably a honed skill after many years of being outlaws.

Malcon was standing near Camilla besides a copse a dozen yards away, the two of them turning to glance at him every so often.

The man tying up his arms finished, tugging at the ropes surrounding Merlin with a grunt of satisfaction. He stood, and Merlin felt absurdly small still on the ground, looking up at the man's large bulk.

"You want some water?" the man asked.

Merlin wanted to say no, but his treacherous body made him nod instead. "But not from the spring here," he pleaded.

The man smiled deeply at that. "Not as dumb as you look, boy. Don't worry—we brought it with us. We don't disturb the places like this. We know better."

Merlin tried to smile back, but he knew it likely came out more like a grimace. When the man left, Merlin dropped his head. It wasn't until he heard a sniff to his left that he realized someone else was still sitting with him. Right. Two men had been tying him up.

Merlin gave the second man a sidelong glance. Where the first man had been stocky and dark, like Agravaine, this one was lean and blond, a little like Arthur in appearance.

"Hi," the blond man said cheerfully.

Merlin blinked. "Um…hi?"

"Name's Jason. Other fella's name is Aaron."

Merlin gave a nod. "Merlin."

"We know." Jason grinned. "So, you hear the one about the ox, the rabbit and the virgin?"

Merlin was almost grateful when he threw up again before Jason could get to the punch line.

_ ... _


Arthur couldn't stop pacing, hating not being out there searching with the others. How had his father handled it so well? Being stuck in the castle, like this? He'd hated it that time Merlin had gone missing after the ambush, and he hated it even more now.

He looked up when the doors flew open, turning to face forward as his most trusted knights pushed into the throne room. Leon led the way, his expression dour. Gwaine, to his right, looked furious, while Elyan looked disappointed, not meeting anyone's gaze. Percival walked tall, determined but unhappy.

"You haven't found him," Arthur guessed, gripping his hands into fists. Leaning against a column a few feet away, Gaius sighed.

"No, Sire," Leon said, bowing slightly. "We've scoured the immediate vicinity of the castle, and there's no sign of him."

"No one saw anything either," Elyan added, shaking his head. "We've spoken to the staff and the guards, and the townspeople who delivered goods today, to see if anyone could give us any information, for a lead but—"

"Nothing," Gwaine growled. "How could they have seen nothing!" He slammed his gloved fist into a handy stone column. "How could they have been so blind!"

"As you ordered, we're organizing all the knights into search parties to start searching the forest," Percival said, his eyes still a little distant. "Each of us will take a group of about a dozen men."

Arthur gave a nod. "Has anyone been out to the marshlands? Where Merlin told Gwen he'd seen those bandits?" He had no doubt that they were the ones responsible for this.

Leon nodded. "I went out there, Sire. It's clear people had been there, and we found Merlin's things left in a nearby meadow. But there's no one there now. They did a good job hiding their tracks."

"Any idea of the size of this group?"

"Twelve to fifteen, maybe?" Leon suggested. "Based on the tracks we found, and the amount of waste. Not too many places a group of that size can hide without being noticed." He turned his gaze to Gaius. "We put Merlin's things that we found in your rooms, Gaius."

Gaius simply gave a nod, his gaze unfocused.

Arthur stepped off the dais, his head down. "The ransom note stated that we should leave the gold inside the main cave at the Ridge of Chemary. I want those caves searched, and as many of them blocked off as possible. They think they'll be able to use the network of caverns under that ridge as a means to escape—I want you to make sure that doesn't happen."

Leon nodded. "Of course, Sire, but I don't know if we'll have time to block every—"

"I don't want excuses, Sir Leon. Just get it done." Arthur turned his back to them, wincing slightly as he realized how much he sounded like his father just then. Not that his father would ever have mobilized this much simply to rescue a servant. Hell, who was he kidding? His father wouldn't have mobilized anyone to rescue a servant. He snorted a dark laugh and turned to look at them over his shoulder. They were still watching him.

"Why are you still here?" he demanded roughly.

Leon nodded. "On our way, sire."

Gwaine gave Arthur a smile, a dark one, showing his agreement. The others simply bowed respectfully and left.

At almost the same moment, Lord Humphries arrived in the open doorway to the throne room, and the knights gave him a fairly wide berth, giving him small bows as they left.

Arthur sighed and stalked over to the throne, sitting heavily and watching as Humphries strode forward before falling to one knee.

"Forgive me, Sire," he began. "I know you asked us to remain in our chambers for a few hours, but I heard what happened and—"

"You heard what happened," Arthur repeated quietly. "And what is that?"

"That a member of your court has been kidnapped. Your manservant, Merlin." Humphries looked up, and, amazingly, there was genuine concern on his face. He stood up. "I would like you to know that my knights are at your disposal. I only brought about a dozen with me, as you know, but if they can help you widen your net…."

Arthur straightened slightly. "You would do that?"

"What affects you, affects all of us," Humphries said. "In addition….I have known your servant for many years, Sire. I think of him as a friend, and I would like to help."

Arthur actually lifted his eyebrows at that. "Did you just say that you think of him as a friend?"

"Sire!"

Arthur looked towards the door, eyebrows lifting even higher as he spotted The Lord Gwent, Lord Bailor and Lord Exestan standing on the threshold. Apparently, Lord Humphries was not the only lord intent on sticking their noses into this business. Humphries audibly sighed as the three men swept in. The Lord Gwent bowed deeply as he reached Humphries side, the other two slightly less so, but no less somberly.

"Your majesty," Lord Bailor greeted as he straightened. "The High Council met soon after Humphries here informed Exestan of his intent to offer you the services of his knights, and we are resolved. We offer you the knight contingents of all your faithful lords to aid in search of the missing boy."

Arthur sat back on the throne, not hiding his surprise. "I…I'm sorry, what?"

"We understand a young man has been kidnapped. We would like to help," he looked at Humphries, giving the young lord an almost reproachful look. "All of us, no matter what some may think." Humphries flushed slightly, turning his head away.

Arthur shook his head. "You do understand that Merlin is merely a servant. He is the responsibility of the castle, not—"

"What affects you, affects all of Camelot, Sire," Exestan said, unknowingly repeating what Humphries had said just moments earlier. "But it wouldn't matter if he were connected to you or not. If any of our people are attacked, whether they be of noble birth or not, it is you yourself who told us that such an offense cannot be borne anywhere in this kingdom. We agree. All of your subjects deserve and are worthy of all the protections this kingdom can provide. It is our duty to aid you in routing these bandits out and making an example of them, showing them that we will not tolerate this sort of criminal act."

"Our people make us strong, Sire," the Lord Gwent agreed. "Attack one, attack us all. We will help you find the boy and bring him home, and we will kill the men responsible for his taking."

Humphries had a funny smile on his face as he moved to stand in line with the other lords, apparently deciding that they had said enough for all of them. He simply nodded when Arthur looked at him.

"And you are all agreed in this," Arthur asked, switching his gaze from Humphries to Gwent and Exestan, both of whom were amongst the oldest of the lords. Exestan inclined his head, and gave a wry smile.

"Yes," he said. "We are all agreed."

Arthur had to smile, feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't understood the depth of their loyalty before this moment. The knights he trusted, and, after what happened in the forest of Essetir, the people, but the nobility had been a question mark. His father trusted the nobles because the nobles' power could be taken away with a wave of Uther's hand. But these men weren't here out of fear of Arthur—rather, they seemed to be here out of respect for him, for what he was doing.

His mind reeling slightly from the revelation, he stood. "I am grateful for your aid and your generosity. It will be remembered." He looked over his shoulder at George, who was standing quietly near the door. "Inform Sir Leon that the knight contingents of the High Council will be added to the rosters, and that he should expect them in the courtyard with the others when the time comes to send out the search parties." At the order, George gave a single nod and disappeared out the door. Arthur looked to the four lords standing before him, and, because he felt it was the right thing to do, he bowed before them.

"You have shown yourselves true friends today," he said. "Camelot thanks you."

Even the typically aloof Lord Gwent smiled a little at the praise.

_ ... _


Merlin had started to shiver, his body feeling a little like it was at war with itself. Whatever magic that woman had used on him, it was still inside him, and he could feel his core fighting it, like an infection it needed to kill. Where he'd felt weak before, now he felt as limp as a wet rag, his body breaking out in a cold sweat. He wasn't sure he could move right now, even if he'd wanted to. The bindings around him, keeping him upright against the tree, felt like the only things holding him up.

Aaron had brought him water, and when he'd just thrown it up again, Aaron had tutted and said something about getting a cloth to clean him up. Merlin found the kindness unbearably confusing. Hell, he found everything confusing.

"What's it like," Jason whispered after Aaron left again, his voice almost eager, "if you don't mind me asking?"

Merlin frowned slightly, teeth chattering, wondering if he'd missed something. "What?"

"Camilla's touch. What's it like?"

Merlin swallowed, and he looked over at Camilla. She had stopped watching him, but he sensed that she hadn't lost her interest in him. "Cold," he said, wishing he could stop trembling. "Like ice."

"Been wondering. Seen her touch all sorts of folks, doing that thing she does, but never felt it. I've never had the chance to ask any of 'em either. Most times they don't remember even being touched."

Merlin's eyebrows lifted. "Why not?"

The man just smiled. "Because that's what she does. She makes people forget."

Merlin frowned at the information, trying to recall if he'd seen a spell like that before. "But…I remember what happened," he said carefully.

"Oh, you she just put to sleep. Making people forget is something else she can do. She can even kill, just with a touch." Jason's voice was full of wonder as he added, "I've seen it."

Merlin visibly shuddered. "I don't think I've ever heard of magic like that," he muttered.

"Oh, that's 'cause it's not magic, least, not like normal magic. That's why I wondered what it felt like."

That caused Merlin to sit up a little, even despite his trembling. "What…what does that mean?"

Jason sat a little closer, grinning and lowering his voice slightly, as if sharing a juicy secret. "She says she was born with it. Inherited it from ancestors that may not've been…." His grin turned almost conspiratorial as he whispered, "Human."

Merlin huffed at hearing his suspicions confirmed. "Not…you mean….if not human, then what? Pixies?"

"Nah. Nothing like that. Nothing from the old religion. Something else. She calls herself a Daughter of Erebus, which, apparently, is some island somewhere on the other side of Rome. She says she can invoke her ancestor's powers…or something like that."

"Erebus," Merlin repeated, testing the name on his tongue. It wasn't any place he'd heard of. If he ever made it back to Gaius, he'd have to ask him. "And being related to the people of Erebus," he continued, voice shaking enough that he was almost stuttering, "that's where her power comes from?"

"So she says," Jason said, nodding. "We've been laying bets as to whether it's a real place or not. Aaron thinks she says that to make herself sound more mysterious and powerful, but I figure it could be real. Never know what's really out there, you know?"

Merlin gave a nod, not about to disagree with someone sitting a foot away and carrying at least two very sharp knives that he could see, while he was bound to a tree and feeling about as powerful as drowned cat.

"I mean," continued Jason, "look at those things last year—the Dorocha, Camilla called them. What the hell were they? If it weren't for Camilla, I doubt any of us would be here. Can't believe how many dead we saw when we came out of hiding."

Merlin flinched at the memory, and at his own inability to protect anyone against them. Then what Jason said suddenly registered, and Merlin stared at him, eyes wide. "Wait. You mean…Did Camilla…Was she able to stop them? By herself?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah. She just…she seemed able to direct them away from us. She said some words in that funny language of hers and they left us alone."

Merlin's eyes felt wide as saucers now, and he looked over at Camilla again, wondering just how far her powers went.

And, just like that, he knew what her magic had reminded him of. That bone cold he'd felt after being attacked by the Dorocha. It had been…it felt almost the same. And he'd been powerless against them. Does that mean….would he be powerless against her? Even if he felt strong enough, got his magic back, if she was like the Dorocha, or was related to them somehow….

Heart hammering, his shuddering intensifying, he shook his head, latching onto Jason's words from earlier. "And…" He swallowed nervously. "She can kill with just a touch? She doesn't…she just touches you?"

The young thief chuckled, and patted Merlin's thigh, obviously trying to provide comfort. "Now, now, don't be scared. See, her ability to just make you forget is why you don't have to worry, like Aaron said. We don't have to kill you to get away. We haven't had to kill anyone in ages."

"So, I'll just forget?"

"Yeah."

"Um…." Merlin frowned as a particularly violent shake ran down his spine, and the cold sweat worsened. "But…if she can make people forget things, why didn't she just make me forget you when you found me in Camelot? Why bring me out here?"

"Because the Patron ordered us to."

Merlin frowned. "Patron?"

"We do what she tells us."

She.

"And she told you to take me?"

"Yep. Patron says you're not just a servant. She says you're special. Are you?"

Merlin frowned, stomach flip-flopping. Special? He had absolutely no idea what that meant—unless this Patron meant the obvious. Maybe…maybe he'd been wrong thinking it was one of the High Council. What if Gwen had been right? What if it was Morgana? Could she have found out who he was? He looked away, back to the others. Camilla was watching him again, her gaze steady, as if she expected him to do something. He swallowed under the weight of that pregnant stare.

"I'm not special," he said, his voice shaking, memories of being chained up in Morgana's hovel bright in his mind. "I'm nobody."

Jason grunted. "Well, guess we'll find out soon enough," he replied. "She's coming to see you."

Oh God. "When?"

Jason shrugged. Then he frowned. "Hey. You want a blanket? You've been shivering for a while now, and you don't look to good."

Merlin said nothing to that, still looking at Camilla and seeing Morgana in her place. With the way he felt, he wasn't sure if he could even practice his magic right now, and if Morgana used Camilla to touch him again before he was well….he might not be able to survive a second dose. And if she was like the Dorocha, he might not survive even if he did feel strong enough to use his magic.

"Okay, all that shaking is making me feel cold. I'm getting you a blanket whether you want one or not," Jason said, standing up. He arched an eyebrow at Merlin. "Don't move."

Merlin gave him a dark look, and Jason chuckled as he walked away.

The young warlock hung his head once he was alone and tried not to think about how screwed he was.

_ ... _

TBC…