Arland was sure that this would be the end. After the prince had hit him directly in the stomach, he had had a wild hope that someone would help him as soon as the battle was over, but instead he had to watch in shock as Maridaen and Kevin went down too. Arland didn't understand what had happened. He was a good fighter, always had been, but shortly after they had engaged in the fight with their victim, he had felt unable to move for just a second. That second had been enough for the prince to run him through.

It hadn't been natural and he had suspected magic, but stemming from whom? Certainly not the prince! And that servant boy had been unconscious almost the entire time, so who had cast the spell? His gaze, blurry due to the tears in his eyes, had wandered across the path to their employer, whom he and the others simply had called Scar, as no name had been spoken. Then he knew that there had been foul play at work. Scar had looked back at him, just for a second, with a quite content stare. He had been betrayed. Unfortunately, Arland couldn't use any of this knowledge anymore. His stomach was burning, and he could feel how he lost far too much blood with every passing second. As he had feared, no one treated his wound once the prince had been captured. Instead he heard Scar say in his cold voice: "Rogar. Clean up this mess."

Rogar had been the man making first contact and telling Arland and the others of his master's plan. Scar's words could only mean one thing: The giant of a man, who even surpassed Kevin in terms of height, was supposed to make sure that no witnesses were left alive. Arland wasn't sure that he stood a chance, but as he could neither move nor fight, he decided to simply play dead and hope for the best. He had closed his eyes and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible, listening intently to the giant's footsteps. He was walking past Maridaen right now, kneeling down in front of him. With a satisfied sound, he got back up and strode towards Kevin.

To Arland's surprise, Kevin hadn't died from the sword wound. As Rogar approached him, he could hear Kevin cough in pain, then his friend said: "H-help me… W-we… we had a deal…"

Apparently Kevin was thinking the same thing: Why not at least trying to tend to their wounds? Arland, however, was not stupid enough to open his mouth to ask. He could hear a short, guttural laughter, then Rogar answered: "Oh, don't you worry. You are still fulfilling your part of the agreement."

Again Kevin coughed and his voice trailed off when he once more tried to acquire information about the reason behind his death. "B-but … why…?"

Rogar didn't answer him, but Arland knew enough to understand that his death had been part of the plan all along. He just hoped that Deverell and the others would be smart enough to figure that one out by themselves and take revenge. He held his breath as Rogar used the broadsword to end Kevin's life, and the young man's agonizing scream echoed long and threateningly in his ears. He was next.

He drew in a last, deep breath as he heard how Rogar turned around and faced him, then he just lay completely still and waited. Seconds went by. He was far too aware of his own heartbeat, but there was nothing he could do to calm it down. Half a minute. Please don't take a closer look, he pleaded. Oh please, please, please! How long could he hold his breath? One minute went by. He could feel the giant kneeling next to him, he could almost feel his breath on his skin, he …

"You think you can fool me?"

Arland yelped in surprise, then cried out in pain as Rogar's sword plunged into his stomach. The pain was immense, but he neither passed out nor did he die, as he – and apparently the giant – had assumed. With watery eyes he looked at his attacker and earned some kind of annoyed smile.

By now Arland knew without a doubt that he was going to die, but not without the answer he was looking for: "T-that… that was magic… wasn't it?" Blood was filling his mouth now, tasting like disgustingly sweet iron. "Y-you… paralyzed m-me."

"My Lord did" Rogar commented with a grim smile and pushed the sword deeper into the wound without killing him, but causing him so much pain that Arland was about to black out. "It hadn't been necessary, though. The prince did a pretty good job taking you out himself."

Through a haze of pain Arland wondered why the giant didn't finish him off like he had finished off Kevin. The next sentence from his adversary answered his unspoken question and confirmed his notion of Rogar being the sadistic type.

"If there's nothing more, have a nice and slow death" the giant said with a crooked grin and turned away.

XXXXX

When he saw the two horses, Gwaine knew without a doubt that he had come too late. He had just made it to the outskirts of Marbor forest, when a magnificent white stallion and a beautiful brown mare came thundering out of the woods as if they had the devil in them. He instantly recognized Arthur's mount and suspected that the other one had to be Merlin's. Gwaine swore under his breath and forced his own horse to gallop even faster, for once ignoring the strain he put the animal through.

As he drew closer, the two horses stopped dead in their tracks and seemed to consider whether it would be better to turn around. Only seconds later they continued their way towards him – whatever had happened to them inside the forest, it had most certainly scared the hell out of them. But by now their vigor had ceased and Gwaine could catch their headgear easily as he passed them by. Who knew, maybe he got lucky and their masters were able to ride them back to Camelot. Or, an obnoxious voice hissed inside his mind, he would have to use the horses to carry them back.

The forest brushed by fast as Gwaine once more spurred his horse, the other two following suit. He had no idea where inside the forest the men had planned to trap Arthur and Merlin, but discovering their horses on this main path leading through the dense woods let him hope that they would be easy to find. But first minutes passed by, then half an hour without any sign of life, and Gwaine was about to wonder whether the horses had taken a path of their own through the undergrowth, when he recognized figures lying on the path in the distance. He brought his horse to an abrupt halt and tried to take in the scene that acted out in front of him. Three large men were laying spread eagled on the ground, all of them looking suspiciously dead with large puddles of blood underneath them and around them. As Gwaine approached them, he saw that one had died due to a cut throat, his eyes wide in disbelief as he exhaled one last time and drowned in his own blood. The second one had been stabbed through the chest, and the third one had died from a nasty wound in the stomach. Two different wounds, actually, which was weird, and … Gwaine blinked … he seemed to be alive after all! He jumped out of his saddle and was at the man's side within a heartbeat. As he looked at the ugly wound in his belly, Gwaine knew that the man was only minutes from actually passing away and there was nothing he could do. Not that he had wanted to out of the goodness of his heart – but maybe this thug knew something about the outcome of the battle that must have taken place here.

The man's eyes were glassy and his whole body was shuddering as if suffering from a high fever. Probably an infection from the open wound, Gwaine pondered. The bandit didn't seem to perceive that someone was standing hunched over him, but when Gwaine cleared his throat, he looked in his direction and tried to say something that was inaudible to Gwaine's ears. "I'm sorry - what?" he asked and crouched down beside the dying man. There was just one word he understood, and that sounded like … eagle? Well, the last words of someone dying a horribly painful death seldom made sense. Still, he hoped that maybe he could get just one straight answer out of the guy and asked: "What happened here? Where's the prince?" It was a wild guess – if this man had actually taken part in abducting prince Arthur and his servant, then why would he tell a complete stranger about their whereabouts? But what else could he do?

"E-eagle" the man said again and pointed to his right into the woods. "Has him."

Eagle has him? Now that was really useful! Gwaine rolled his eyes, then stared at him for a few seconds before trying a different approach: "Who is eagle?"

"S-silver eagle" the man whispered. "B-betrayed me."

Great, did that mean that the thugs couldn't agree internally or was there something else going on? Gwaine was about to ask another question when the man suddenly started to cough violently, spitting blood on his hand and chest. Wouldn't be too long now. "The silver eagle …" he began. "Has he taken the prince and his servant?"

The man shook his head and Gwaine was about to sigh helplessly, as just one useful piece of information left the man's mouth: "Only… prince. Other one… messenger." He pointed in a different direction this time, towards Camelot, and Gwaine turned around to follow his outstretched finger with his gaze when a violent convulsion shook the man's body. He jerked up, coughing again, and Gwaine could see something not too appetizing glinting mushy white where the wounds were located. Must have been much deeper than he had assumed before. A wonder the man hadn't died already. Another cough, more blood, then the man fell back heavily and lay completely still. Gwaine closed the bandit's eyelids before standing up and turning around to face the indicated direction.

That was when he saw him. With one lightning-fast movement he was at his friend's side, unable to believe how he could have missed Merlin laying only a few feet further down the path, only partly hidden by trampled undergrowth.

"Merlin!" Gwaine shouted and fell down on one knee, already reaching out for his friend to help him up when he discovered the dagger placed viciously deep inside the younger man's shoulder. A piece of paper had been pinned down with the weapon. His heart seemed to skip a beat and he feared the worst, but then he saw how Merlin's breast was slowly moving up and down – he was breathing! Messenger, Gwaine thought bitterly now that he understood the dead man's words. A quite brutal way to ensure the delivery took place. His fingers touched the weapon gently, closing around it carefully as not to cause his friend any more pain just yet. He had to remove it and attend to the wound, but it would hurt – a lot. He could feel anger rising inside him, burning hot and dangerously. The dead thug could praise himself lucky that he had died already and maybe not so painful after all. It was nothing compared to what Gwaine had in mind to take vengeance for what had been done to his friend. "I am sorry" he whispered, not sure whether Merlin could hear him, and pulled out the dagger in one swift motion. Fortunately Merlin seemed to be deeply unconscious – a soft moan escaped his lips, but then he lay still again. Gwaine didn't waste any time trying to wake his friend; that could wait until later. First he had to cut off the rope around Merlin's wrists, then clean his wound, which he did with water from a flask. Finally he had to bandage the shoulder wound tightly in order to prevent further blood loss. It took him only a few minutes to finish his work professionally, before he finally leaned back and examined his friend for other wounds that needed medical care. Apart from a nasty bump on the back of his head, a minor cut on his throat and an ugly bruise across his chest, he seemed to be unharmed. Not that that calmed Gwaine down. What had been done to his young friend had been terrible enough and he would make sure those responsible would pay dearly. Those responsible… Gwaine sighed and looked at the bloody note for the first time:

25,000 gold pieces. Midnight one week from now at the Gnarled Oak. No guards, no tricks.

So Arthur had been abducted for money. Quite the common reason, though all that talk of a silver eagle made it a lot more interesting. But what silver eagle? His gaze returned to the battleground, taking in the rope that had been tied across the road (nasty trap!), then shifting towards the three battered, dead men – courtesy of the crown prince before the rest of the gang had brought him down, if he wasn't completely mistaken. If there was one thing Gwaine knew about Arthur, it was that the prince – all lordliness aside – knew how to put up a fight (though Gwaine would never admit that to his face). Not that it had done him any good. If he hadn't just had to bandage a rather painful wound that had been inflicted on someone he considered to be his only real friend, Gwaine might have smiled just one tiny, mischievous smile at Arthur's misfortune (he was a noble man, after all!). But what had been done to Merlin had been far too serious for that kind of behavior. Well, maybe once they found that arrogant excuse for a prince there would be a time and a place for some kind of a gloating grin.

Another moan caught Gwaine's attention and he looked down at Merlin, who stared at him with dark, troubled eyes and muttered "A-Arthur… is he alright?".

Gwaine chose not to answer that question. Most likely Arthur was far from alright (if nothing else his pride would have taken a serious blow from this incident) and he didn't want to upset Merlin more than absolutely necessary. Furthermore he wasn't sure whether the boy would have heard him: His stare broke after no more than two, maybe three heartbeats and he closed his eyes once more, drifting back into unconsciousness.

Gwaine stared at the blood drenched note one more time and waited patiently until his friend came to again. He was afraid to move him, which could have caused the wound to burst open, so he decided to give him at least a few hours rest for his body and mind to recover. For now they were safe here with the three horses tied securely to a tree close to them and the villains responsible for this probably miles away. Those who had made it out alive, anyways. The only thing he had to watch out for was guards from Camelot, but he doubted that Uther would have sent anybody to search for his son just yet.

He didn't really miss the large city and the impressive castle, but right now he really cursed the fact that he had been exiled. That would make it a lot more complicated to get Merlin back home to Gaius. But he had to try. This was his best friend lying next to him, and besides, he knew Merlin would do the exact same for him. Maybe if he found some kind of cloak. And of course they would have to bring the horses and those bandits. Gwaine shook his head, wiping these thoughts away and wondering what Nadienne was doing right now. She was probably angry, maybe disappointed. Ah well, when this was over he would most certainly head back anyways. But right now getting Merlin back to Camelot and finding Arthur were top priority.