CHAPTER THREE
NIGHTMARE
"Arthur!"
Merlin's voice was tense and urgent, commanding his attention.
"Arthur!"
His voice was higher now, almost strained. Arthur's eyes went wide with shock. Broad swaths of the forest were cut down, and Arthur's leg burned viciously as he was pulled along a roughly made path through the forest destruction. He was tied by a long rope to the saddle of a rider in front of him. There was blood in his shoe. Even now, in the dark of night, men were working by torchlight. The place smelled of fresh wood. Dark shadows of laborers spread out on either side of the destruction of the forest. They were building something, something dangerous. A trebuchet. This was a plan to attack Camelot.
The King woke all at once, his heart pounding, reaching instinctively for his sword. Guinevere stirred, and he realized he had been caught in a dream. He tried to calm his breathing.
"I heard Merlin calling me," he said at last, to his wife with no preamble. "In my dream, the forest was cut down, and …" Here he paused, still fraught through with fear and the intensity of the warning. "There is a terrible danger. To Camelot."
Gwen was already rising, gathering the folds of her robe around her, as she took Arthur by the hand.
"Come," she said simply. They hurried along the corridors to Gaius' chamber, not even needing to talk, but joined in a sudden understanding that something terrible was beginning.
The old man answered the door so quickly that there was no doubt he had been awake. His eyes were solemn as he took in the appearance of the King and Queen and the expressions on their faces. They entered the room silently.
"Where's Merlin?" The king's voice was almost casual, despite the look in his eye.
"He's not here Sire. He left, late yesterday afternoon. Word came of a man injured badly in an accident, about two hours north of here. Merlin volunteered to go in my place to tend to him, and I did not hesitate to let him. He is more than competent."
"I had a dream," said Arthur. The bright hardness in his eyes told Gaius how deep fear had struck him, that the young king stood confessing a nightmare to his old mentor in the middle of the night. "Merlin called to me. The forest was all cut down and I was being forced along a path. There were many men working by torchlight, building something terrible. A weapon."
"I could not sleep," said the old man, indicating his still steaming cup of tea.
He did not think he should tell the King that he had dreamed of the cry of a raven. He could not bear to say that the cry still reverberated in his soul; it had been heavy with death and terror. He had dreamed of blood spattered onto leaves, soaking into the ground and all the while, the screaming keen of the desecrated earth had pierced him through, like a knife. He could not speak of these things to Arthur.
" I am an old man with an old man's complaints," he said at last.
"Do you think something has happened to Merlin? How will we find him," asked Gwen as she looked between the two men. She was frustrated with words unspoken.
"It was a warning," said the physician at last. His eyes were steady, masking the fear he ate at him. "I have felt a foreboding, something terrible…"
"Danger approaches Camelot from the north," said Arthur decisively. There was no discussion that the warning had come through a dream. "I will wake the knights and send a patrol to scout for areas of logging."
Grimly, the trio looked at each other, fearful and hopeful, wondering what this new threat could be and beginning to suspect that some evil had befallen Merlin.
SIX HOURS LATER
Arthur had dispatched Gwaine and Leon, along with a small patrol in the late night, rousing his men from their sleep. Despite a fading hope, Merlin had not returned. His riderless horse had found on the outskirts of the city, two hours after Arthur had sent the knights out on their mission. His knights had returned from their patrol only a few hours after that. Their serious faces awakened the sense of danger that had accompanied his dream. Arthur took a deep breath as they entered the hall to give their report.
"A large area has been logged Sire, and there is a sizeable contingent of men building an enormous structure." Leon's voice was urgent. "They displayed no banner, nor wore any insignia. The parts were already being loaded onto wagons. It's clearly a siege engine, Arthur, a trebuchet."
Arthur nodded but he said nothing. They could not know that Arthur's dream had included that detail, but he had not told Gaius or Gwen. It hit him like an arrow finding a target.
"Its range will be enormous," warned Gwaine. "The rapidity of their progress speaks of some kind of help, Sire. Magical help." Arthur's glare was immediate. "The trees appear to be newly logged, within a day, but they are already processed into rough lumber, and many parts of the engine were already built. It should take months to build a siege engine of that size, not days."
"Merlin has not returned," the King said stiffly. Leon recalled suddenly, the hollow grief in Arthur's eyes when Merlin had gone missing once before; the bloodstained scrap of jacket in Arthur's hand and Agravaine's oily, sympathetic voice, came back to his mind with nightmare detail.
"His horse came back."
Leon's heart raced because he knew what he had to say next.
The silence between the two men grew deeper. Gwaine pulled Merlin's medical satchel forward from under his cape. The imprinted seal of the Pendragon symbol was burned into the leather. It had been made that way at Arthur's own suggestion.
Gwaine was uncharacteristically silent as he laid the satchel on the table between them. Arthur did not need to look at either Gwaine or Leon to know there would be murder in their eyes. He found he could not tear his eyes away from his own heraldic symbol. His next words chilled Arthur down to his very bones.
"We found it in some gorse bushes near a crossroads an hour and half north of here, Arthur," said Gwaine. "There was a dead man by the side of the road. We followed the tracks for a bit. Four men on horseback and one on foot. There was blood." Arthur went pale, the details of his dream stabbed at him.
"But we had to stop following the track." Gwaine's voice held steady. "It was leading right into the heart of where they were building the trebuchet. That's how we got close enough to get a look."
The King was silent. He was a warrior and he was not a fool. But the bright place in his heart that filled by Merlin's friendship suddenly threatened to go dark, and he could not move for the shock of it.
"Arthur, " said Leon gently, as if he was interrupting.
"The idiot's gone and gotten himself captured," the king managed to say, rather gruffly, after another heartbeat. Arthur bowed his head and pinched his nose, as if his terrible calm could somehow save his friend from what had already happened. He did not allow himself to envision the worst scenario, but his heart steeled itself, anyway. "Merlin," he whispered almost to himself.
"We will need to attack," said the King strongly, after a moment. "Gather the knights and we will review a strategy. We have no way of knowing who is behind this attack. Perhaps it is the Sarrum; perhaps another magical foe. As you say Gwaine. Their progress has been almost miraculous. We have little time. "
Gwaine and Leon shared a look of pain, as Arthur turned away, looking out the window. In retrospect, the story of an injured man had probably only been a ruse to capture someone from the King's household. Only they knew how much it cost Arthur, to focus on the defense of Camelot, as his heart sank with the real likelihood that his friend had been captured. The possibility that Merlin had already been killed or tortured for information loomed unspoken.
AT THE SAME MOMENT
Merlin panted in pain. His wound was throbbing with his heartbeat, and he sank down to his knees by the side of the wagon, where he had been tied, along with the other captives. He prayed he could rest for just a few minutes more. His body ached, along with the pulsing pain in his leg. They were being used for labor, and Merlin had been forced to expend some of his energy is disguising his own power. He did not want any hint of his presence to reach the sorcerer who headed this attack, until the last possible moment. Merlin was calculating, hoping against all hope, that the confusion and wildness of battle, might hide his presence for a bit more after he defended the walls of Camelot. He wished he wasn't quite so dizzy.
One of his captors, shoved him down to the muddy ground, and his wound awoke with a fierce fire and a gush of blood that forced a gasp from him. His head reeled. His vision narrowed and everything went gray slowly. When he gained awareness again, he was lying in the wagon. To his horror, Ruadan, himself, was walking among his men, reviewing each and every wagon. Merlin's magic tingled as the other sorcerer approached and he struggled to cloak himself in quiet. He lay still, hardly daring to breathe. He was only a filthy, half dead captive, brought along to build and power the trebuchet. Unworthy of notice, human refuse, perhaps not even that. Ruadan's eyes slid over him and Merlin held steady. No hint of who he truly was had alerted the sorcerer. He dare not sigh in relief.
Ruadan moved on to the next wagon and still Merlin did not move. Long tense minutes moved by. Minutes seemed like months. Merlin felt incredibly thirsty. He prayed for water, even though he knew he would receive none. He knew he dare not falter now and so he focused himself on only one thing. Saving Camelot. Merlin wiped the sweat from his face with trembling hand, as he slowly inched himself out of the wagon. His legs buckled as reached the ground but he pulled himself up by will alone. The white walls of his home were still ahead, but their defense was already sure.
