Chapter 3 - The Crystal Cave

[The Next Morning]

As the royal carriage approached, Arthur called the men to attention. It rolled to a stop when it reached the knights, the horses snuffling impatiently as the driver opened the door for the king.

"Morning, Sire," greeted Arthur.

Uther moaned in response, squinting his bloodshot eyes as the bright sunlight pierced them, and rubbed his temples with his fingers. His skin was pallid, and dark shadows hung underneath his eyes.

Arthur frowned in concern. "Are you all right?"

Uther dragged a hand down his stubbled cheeks. "I had a little trouble with the...fireplace."

"I see," the senior knight said, though he really didn't. He cleared his throat. "Your orders, Sire?"

The king shot a glare in Arthur's direction, though he didn't entirely focus. "Find the Druid girl."

The family could only watch helplessly from the corner of the room as the knights tore apart their home. Jars were smashed, furniture was broken, wooden panels from the walls and floor were uprooted. A rug was kicked aside, revealing a trapdoor that led to the cellar.

A knight yanked it open as another stood at the ready, his sword pointed. The huddled Druids stared up fearfully, caught.

Minutes later, the Druids and the harboring family were lined up outside for all to see. Uther paced before them, studying them. None met his fierce gaze, choosing instead to stare at the ground, trembling.

"Ten pieces of silver for the Druid Guinevere," Uther barked, holding out a handful of coins.

None spoke up.

The king growled. "Lock them up!"

The knights, under Uther's order, pushed the covered carriage into the river. The owner could only watch as his wares sank to the murky bottom. After a moment, several Druids broke the surface, gasping for breath and sputtering.

After being fished out, they, along with the merchant, were lined up. They shivered in the cool air.

Uther once again paced like a caged animal. "Twenty silver pieces for the Druid Guinevere!" He shoved the coins under their noses, jingling the metal in his palm.

Just as before, there were no takers.

"Take them away!" He bellowed at the knights, who quickly obeyed.

Arthur scowled, shaking his head. But there was nothing he could do.

"We found this Druid talisman," Uther held up a ward and shook it vigorously, "on your property. Have you been harboring fugitives?"

The baker cringed, twisting the hem of his messy apron. "Please, M'lord, have mercy. Our home is always open to the weary traveler." His wife nodded in concurrence, lips pressed tightly together. She held their young daughter close to her.

Uther nodded slowly. "I am placing you and your family under house arrest until I get to the bottom of this," he announced. "If what you say is true, you are innocent and have nothing to fear."

"But we are innocent, I assure you!" cried the baker. "We know nothing of these Druids!"

Without bothering to respond, Uther shooed the family into their house and shut the door. He snatched a knight's staff from him and firmly barred the door with it, gnashing his teeth angrily. Arthur had grown more and more worried and uncomfortable as the day dragged on. Now that sunset was fast closing in, he hoped that Uther would retire for a good night's rest and be in a better mood the next day.

"Burn it."

Arthur did a double take at the king. "What?" he uttered, horrified.

"Until it smolders," he declared, handing Arthur a torch. "These people are traitors and must be made examples of."

The senior knight glanced from the torch to the king, then hardened. "With all due respect, Sire, I was not trained to murder the innocent."

Uther curled his lips. "But you were trained to follow orders."

Arthur's eyes widened a fraction, his mouth set in a hard line. Taking a deep breath, Arthur marched over to the house, torch held aloft. He looked back at king's smug expression, giving him a chance to retract the order. No such retraction was forthcoming.

Aware of everyone's eyes on him, Arthur deliberately raised the torch toward the thatched roof.

And then dunked in down into the family's water barrel, dousing the fire.

Heavy silence blanketed the area as the king and the knight stared one another down.

"Insolent coward."

Moving quickly, Uther grabbed another torch from the hand of a nearby officer, then flung it up onto the roof where it could not be reached. As Arthur and several others gaped in horror, the structure was quickly engulfed in flames. The three inside immediately began to scream and call for help.

Broken from his trance, Arthur jumped into action, using the wet torch to smash the window. Smoke poured out of the opening thickly, choking him and obscuring his sight, but he climbed in anyway, receiving a few cuts in the process.

Though he was unable to see anything but vague shadows, Arthur found his way to them relatively easily, dodging falling debris. He had to force them into motion, first taking the girl and shoving her mother forward, and dragging the baker by his sleeve toward safety.

They escaped with seconds to spare, as the whole building came crashing down right behind him. Just as Arthur passed the child back to her parents, still choking, he felt strong arms grab him. The notion that they were helping him was quickly put down when the hands shoved him onto his knees before the king.

Uther regarded the burning house for a long moment, then turned to the knights holding the baker and family. "Lock them up," he said flippantly. They cried out as they were taken away, begging for mercy that was not given. Arthur glared up at the king, breathing heavily.

"You're mad," he spat.

The king smiled coolly. "The sentence for insubordination is death. Such a pity. You threw away a promising career."

Arthur lifted his chin. "Consider it my highest honor, Uther."

Uther held out his hand for a spear, which was given to him. The senior knight stared at him unwaveringly, holding his gaze. He wanted his eyes to haunt the king for the rest of his life. Uther raised the spear high, muscles quivering.

Thunk!

Uther reeled to one side, dropping the spear to clutch at his head with a shout of surprise. Looking at his palm, he saw red blood smeared across it. More blood poured forth from the gash on his temple as everyone else looked on in shock. Arthur seized his chance, shoving aside his captors and sprinting off.

The king spotted the rock lying nearby. The rock that had struck him, the king.

"He's getting away!" shouted one of the knights.

Uther jerked his head to see that Arthur was, indeed, escaping. He had swiftly cut one of the carriage horses free, mounted it, and kicked it into gear. The horse raced toward the bridge.

"Shoot him!" screeched Uther, pointing a bloodied hand. "Don't hit my horse!"

As Arthur rode off without glancing back, he was showered by arrows. Only one struck its mark: a lucky shot. It pierced the back of his shoulder through a gap in his armor. Its speed and sharp point embedded it deeply.

The knight cried out in anguish, back arching. In the throes of his pain he was unable to remain on the horse and toppled off, ribs striking the low stone wall of the bridge before he toppled over into the water.

"Don't waste your arrows," Uther spat, holding up a hand to stay his knights. "Let the traitor rot in his watery grave. Retrieve my horse. Take me back to the Palace of Justice - and for the love of God, find me a bandage for this wound! Find the girl! Burn the city to the ground, if you must."

As his knights hurried to obey his orders, no one noticed a lone figure sprinting towards the bank of the river, skirts held high above her knees and hair flying behind her. She didn't hesitate to plunge into the frigid water, gulping down a deep breath before diving under.

Through the murkiness, Guinevere was just able to make out the knight, who had sunk like a stone under the heavy weight of his armor. As she neared, she saw the bubbles that clung to his nostrils. It gave her hope.

She looped her arms underneath him, intending to drag him back to shore, but he was too heavy. Thinking quickly, the Druid girl fumbled with the straps of his armor, then gave up and pulled out her boot knife to cut him free. Her lungs were burning, but she didn't dare leave without him.

At last, she slipped the metal over his head, accidentally snapping the arrow and leaving the head buried in his flesh. But there was nothing to be done.

Guinevere tugged him upwards, gasping loudly as she broke the surface. She coughed harshly as she lifted him out, hoping he would breath on his own. He didn't. His blonde hair plastered to his forehead, running rivulets of cold water down his face. Water leaked from his nose and mouth.

Still unwilling to give up, the Druid struggled with his limp form and finally reached the bank, dragging him up onto the grass before dropping him on his back. Guinevere landed on her knees beside him and pressed an ear to his chest. His heart still beat.

The Druid girl placed a hand on his chest and stomach, whispering, "Brethen," as her eyes flashed gold. She was by no means a powerful magic user, but she hoped it was enough. A second later, Arthur convulsed under her touch, hacking and choking up water. Guinevere breathed a sigh of relief, then turned toward the trees.

'Mordred,' she thought.

'Yes?'

'Bring Aglain and Cerdan. We must get Sir Arthur to safety.'

'I will!'

'Thank you!'

There was no response, as Mordred was already gone. He was young, and though his telepathy was strong, it had a limited range. Guinevere returned her attention to Arthur, who was shivering in his unconsciousness, but at least breathing. She dragged him closer to the bridge so as to be hidden, then held him in her arms to keep him warm.

"Sire!" said a knight as he jogged up to Uther in the courtyard. "We've looked everywhere, but there's still no sign of the Druid girl."

The king glared at the messenger coldly, then dismissed him. He clenched his fists. "I had the entire cathedral surrounded, guards at every door," he muttered darkly. "There was no way she could have escaped, unless..."

His eyes traveled up to the bell tower, where a high pitched ringing emanated to alert the townspeople of the several fires blazing throughout the city. The king's lips curled upwards.

Merlin, seeing that people were rushing to put out the fires, ceased ringing Little Sophia. His eyes returned to their vibrant blue, worry creasing his face. The lanky man hurried down the ladder and ran out to the balcony to overlook the panicking city.

"Any sign of her?" he asked.

Will and Freya both shook their heads, while Lancelot ran a hand through his hair.

"Oh," he moaned. "What are we going to do?"

"Do?" Will repeated. "Please, if I know Guinevere, she's probably well out of harm's way by now."

"Do you really think so?"

"She'll be back," Freya said. "You'll see."

"What makes you so sure?" Merlin frowned as Lancelot craned his neck to see about a commotion nearby.

"Because she likes you," she smiled.

"Trust me, Merlin," Will said. "You've got nothing to worry about!"

"I hope you're right," he mumbled sadly.

"Merlin?"

The young man instantly perked and spun around, his friends disappearing in the blink of an eye.

"Merlin?" came the stricken call again.

"Guinevere?!" he gasped as she hurried in, her skirts still dripping and clinging to her legs. She looked a bit haggard, but otherwise unhurt. "Guinevere! You're all right! I knew you'd come back."

Guinevere smiled in relief and hugged him tightly. She pulled away and looked at him imploringly. "You've done so much for me already, Merlin, but I must ask your help one more time."

"Anything," Merlin promised easily.

She offered him a tiny, hopeful smile, and turned to usher someone inside. Two cloaked Druids pushed their ways inside, bearing between them an unconscious, sopping wet Arthur. Morgana followed at their heels, ducking into the room quickly and bleating a greeting. Merlin's face went blank as he recognized the knight.

"This is Arthur," Guinevere explained. "He's wounded, and a fugitive like me. He can't go on much longer. I knew he'd be safe here," she said pleadingly. "Please, can you hide him?"

Merlin didn't need to think about it.

"This way," he said, gesturing to his own bed. It consisted of a straw mattress on the floor, bedded with several layers of thin, scratchy blankets and a thin pillow.

As the Druids laid him down gently, Arthur moaned and came to. Blinking blearily as his eyes opened independently of one another, he struggled to focus. The first face he locked on was, of course, his savior's.

"Guinevere?" he croaked.

She shushed him and pushed him back down as he tried to sit up. "We've already treated your wound. Between the three of us, we are not skilled in healing magic, but it was enough."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

She huffed a laugh. "You are either the single bravest soldier I've ever seen, or the craziest."

He smirked mirthlessly. "Ex-soldier, remember?"

"You're lucky," Guinevere insisted seriously. "That arrow almost pierced your heart."

"I'm not so sure it didn't," he replied.

After a brief pause in which they met eyes, reading one another's souls, the two leaned close and kissed. Merlin, in the background, turned away. He felt more embarrassed than sad or jealous. Ha, he'd told his friends he wasn't in love! There was a light thump as Arthur's head fell back onto the pillow, unconscious once more.

Morgana, from the balcony, bleated loudly to garner attention. Guinevere stood in alarm as Merlin went to see what the matter was. After looking out, he turned back quickly.

"Uther's coming," he said to the three Druids. "You must leave. Quick, follow me! Go down the south tower steps."

Aglain and Cerdan took off, and Guinevere ushered Morgana ahead of her. She paused and turned back to Merlin. "Be careful, Merlin. Promise you won't let anything happen to him."

Merlin touched his neckerchief that she had given him. "I promise."

"Thank you," she whispered gratefully. Then she fled.

"Quick!" Freya appeared at Arthur's side, gesturing frantically. "We have to hide the knight."

Merlin ran a hand through his dark locks, panicking. He searched desperately for a place to stash Arthur, ignoring Will's suggestion to throw a blanket over his still form. Hearing Uther's slowly ascending steps, Merlin made his choice.

Hooking his arms underneath Arthur's armpits, he hoisted him up and dragged him toward his carving table. The knight was so much heavier than he looked! Grunting with the effort, Merlin finally managed to get him to the table. Pushing him underneath it was a different problem.

Dropping to his knees, Merlin pushed, but Arthur's limp form merely lolled. Uther was getting closer. Merlin changed position, sitting on his rear and bracing himself with his hands as he pushed with his feet. At last Arthur rolled over onto his stomach, drool dribbling across his cheek, and was obscured by the tablecloth.

Just as Uther arrived, Merlin leapt up and began to fiddle with his toy townspeople, turning in feigned surprise when the king cleared his throat.

"Oh!" Merlin uttered, dropping the models with a clatter. "Master. I-I-I didn't think you'd be coming to-"

"I'm never too busy to share a meal with you, dear boy. I brought a little treat," Uther smiled, holding up the wicker basket.

When Merlin remained frozen, Uther's smile slipped to show a little annoyance, and he cleared his throat importantly. The young man jolted when he realized that he was supposed to set the table, and he raced off to the shelves. Obviously flustered, Merlin dropped several things.

Uther smiled grimly, but then schooled his expression. "Something troubling you, Merlin?"

"No," Merlin shook his head, setting the plates and cups down at the carving table, where Uther had taken a seat. "Nothing at all." He laughed nervously.

"Oh, but there is," Uther said certainly. "I know there is."

Reaching into the basket, Uther pulled out a vine of green grapes - Merlin's favorite. One fell from the branch and onto the floor. Merlin cautiously bent to pick it up, hand so close he could feel Arthur's warm breath.

"I think," Uther studied Merlin as he sat up again, "you're hiding something."

"Oh, no, Master," Merlin denied fervently, "there's nothing -"

"You're not eating, boy," Uther narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Merlin overcompensated by gobbling an entire handful of the grapes. "Mmh," he hummed, mumbling something that sounded along the lines of "It's very good, thank you."

Underneath the table, Arthur moaned. Merlin instantly choked and kicked the wakening knight, sending him back into slumber once more. Uther raised an eyebrow at Merlin's antics.

"Seeds," Merlin explained huskily.

Though it was a weak reason at best, Uther seemed to accept it and turned his gaze to the table. "What's different here?" he asked.

"Nothing, Master," Merlin answered honestly, frowning in confusion.

"Isn't this one new?" Uther held up a woman's figure, skirts painted purple and skin dark. "It's awfully good," he complimented. "Looks very much like the Druid...girl I know." A thunderous expression crossed his face, and he white-knuckled the figure. "You helped her escape!"

Merlin cringed. "But I -"

"And now," Uther shouted, standing abruptly, "all of Camelot is burning because of you!"

Unshed tears hung in his eyes as Merlin's shoulders slumped. "She was kind to me, Master," he said softly.

Much to Merlin's shock and devastation, Uther brought his fists down on his diorama, destroying all of his careful work. He gasped for breath, chest heaving. His fingers tangled in his hair as he watched his master repeat the action again, twice more, thrice more. Nothing was left.

As the king beat on the display, he berated Merlin: "You idiot! That wasn't kindness, it was cunning! She's a Druid! Druids are not capable of real love! Think, boy! Think of your mother!"

Tantrum finished, Uther pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply. After taking a moment to recompose himself, he looked at Merlin.

The warlock was staring at his ruined prize, tears streaking his high cheekbones. Uther felt no remorse, but he knew he had to show it. He cupped Merlin's face gently, and rubbed the water away with his thumbs despite how that action disgusted him.

Merlin raised his eyes to Uther's.

"But what chance could a poor, misguided child like you have against her heathen treachery?" Uther lamented. "Well, never you mind, Merlin. She will be out of our lives soon enough. I will free you from her evil spell. She will torment you no longer."

"What do you mean?" Merlin asked, voice cracking.

Uther smiled. "I know where her hideout is," he confided. "And tomorrow, at dawn, I attack with a thousand men."

Merlin swallowed hard, and Uther patted his head. Without a goodbye, the king turned and swept from the room. He had things to take care of.

As soon as his footsteps receded, Arthur scooted out from underneath the table, groaning as he stretched his sore muscles.

"We have to find the Crystal Cave," he said, straightening the sword on his belt, "before daybreak." He crossed the room to the staircase. "If Uther gets there first...Are you coming with me?" He turned back, standing akimbo.

Merlin, who hadn't yet moved, slowly looked up, blinking as though just seeing Arthur. "I...can't," he said haltingly.

Arthur glared at him incredulously. "I thought you were Guinevere's friend."

Merlin hunched his shoulders. "Uther's my master. I can't disobey him again. Not again." He helplessly picked tried to set the Palace upright, but it was broken beyond repair and tumbled back down.

Arthur frowned at his back, looking almost pityingly. But he stuck his chin out. If there was one thing he knew how to do, it was motivate men. "She stood up for you," he reminded him. "You've got a funny way of showing gratitude."

He paused, waiting for a response. Merlin said nothing, staring at his ruined diorama.

"Well, I'm not going to sit by and watch Uther massacre innocent people. You do what you think is right."

With that, Arthur turned and clomped his way downstairs.

Merlin glared across the table at his three imaginary friends, who looked back at him sorrowfully.

"What do you want?!" Merlin snapped at them. "What am I supposed to do? Huh?! Go out and pretend to be something I'm not? Pretend to be a hero?"

The tears threatened to spill from his eyes again, and furiously rubbed at them. When he looked up, his friends were crying silently.

"Uther was right," Merlin sobbed. "Uther was right about everything. I'm tired of trying to be something I'm not."

Lancelot reached across the table and picked up a broken piece, then extended it to Merlin.

Merlin opened his palm to see Guinevere's wooden head.

Will picked up another piece and placed it in Merlin's other hand.

Guinevere's body.

Freya gave him a watery but encouraging smile. "Do what you think is right, Merlin."

When he looked up, his friends were gone. Through the window in front of him, he saw the smoke stretching skywards.

His fingers slowly curled around the broken model of his friend.

Arthur nodded respectfully to Saint Gorlois as he passed, sneaking to the door. Though it was the front door, he hoped that no one saw and recognized him. He poked his head out, looking around to be sure it was clear.

Seeing no one about, Arthur exited the church and shut the door silently behind him. A dark figure appeared in front of him, eyes flashing dangerously.

The knight stumbled back in surprise with a shout, instinctively raising his hands.

Merlin righted himself and dropped down to his feet agilely, looking determinedly at Arthur. "I'm coming with you!"

Arthur gaped at him for a moment, then glanced up. Had he - Had he jumped?! But then he shook the question off. There was no time. He smirked. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

The warlock pulled a face. "I'm not doing it for you, you clotpole," he sneered. "I'm doing it for her."

Arthur scoffed at the insult, but let it go. "You know where she is?"

"No."

The blonde man huffed in annoyance. Now they had nowhere to start.

"Oh!" Merlin said, snapping his fingers. He pulled the scarf off of neck and shook it out. "But she did say that this would help us find her."

"Good, good, good!" Arthur grinned, taking the cloth and examining it. "Ahhh, great." He muttered quietly, turning it occasionally, and Merlin watched him with interest. After a moment, Arthur looked up expectantly. "What is this?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure."

"Hmm," Arthur sighed, returning his attention to the design. "It must be some sort of code. Maybe Arabic. No, no. Maybe it's ancient Greek."

Merlin frowned thoughtfully. "When you wear this," he whispered, "you hold the city in your hand."

"What?"

Merlin's face lit up. "It's the city!"

Arthur pulled a face. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a map," Merlin said excitedly. He pointed to the center. "There's the cathedral, see, and here's the river, and -"

"I've never seen a map like this," Arthur spoke over him, "and -"

Both tried to make himself heard over the other, resulting in an unintelligible shouting match. They both ended at the same time:

"And this is it!"

"And this is not it!"

They both took a deep, aggravated breath.

"All right, okay," Arthur conceded, throwing the map at Merlin. "You say it's a map, fine, it's a map. If we're going to find Guinevere, we have to work together. Truce?"

Arthur extended his hand, sticking his chin out. Merlin looked at it for a moment, then shook it.

"Truce."

Arthur held the torch aloft as they wandered through the graveyard, searching for a tombstone that might match the symbol on the map. So far they'd had no luck, but they figured it would be somewhere near the large central tomb.

They were in luck, finally.

As they reached the grave, the stone above-ground coffin that belonged to some ancient king or other displayed the symbol, one Merlin had recognized. He'd seen it tattooed on many Druids, including Guinevere. Upon hearing that, Arthur shot him a jealous look and asked where it was. Merlin only grinned infuriatingly.

"Okay," Arthur said, leaning close to the coffin to read the inscription. "This might take me a few minutes to translate. It must be our next clue...HWÆT, WE GAR-DEna in geardagum, þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon."

The knight leapt back as the stone lid, scraping loudly in the silent atmosphere, slid off. It crashed to the ground, narrowly avoiding crushing his feet. He jerked his head up accusingly at Merlin, whose eyes faded from gold to blue.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not," Arthur muttered irritably. He wrinkled his nose and looked over the edge of the coffin, expecting a decaying skeleton. "Yes, well, or we could go down those stairs," he said.

They ended up in a partially flooded chamber, the walls lined with skeletons. The smell was not as overpowering as they had expected it to be, though it was still rather bad. Merlin wrapped the neckerchief / map around his nose and mouth, earning a contemptful and jealous glare from Arthur.

"Is this the Crystal Cave?" Merlin asked, looking around as though for a sign.

"Offhand," Arthur replied, kicking away a curious rat, "I'd say it's the Ankle Deep Sewage Cave. Ugh! Must be the old catacombs."

As they proceeded, they failed to notice the three skeletons rising behind them.

"Cheerful place," chatted Arthur, his voice echoing. "Kind of makes you wish you got out more often, eh, Merlin?"

"Not me," Merlin shuddered. "I just want to warn Guinevere and get back to my bell tower. I don't want to get in any more trouble."

"Speaking of trouble," Arthur said lightly, "we should have run into some by now."

"How do you mean?"

"You know," Arthur sighed. "A guard, a booby trap -"

The torch suddenly flickered and extinguised.

"Or an ambush," he finished, punctuating his sentence with the sound of his sword unsheathing.

Merlin and Arthur were nearly blinded by the sudden light that flooded the chamber. The young warlock tilted his head to see several bright orbs floating above them, while Arthur was more preoccupied with the daggers at their throats. He relinquished his weapon sullenly and allowed the men to bind his arms behind his back, as did Merlin.

"Well, well, well," drawled a familiar voice. The boys recognized him as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the Druid who had led the Festival of Fools. "What have we here?"

"Trespassers!" hissed one Druid.

"Spies!" cried another.

Arthur took offense. "We are not spies! Look at my sword, it's -"

"Can you listen -" Merlin tried, speaking to Geoffrey.

With a flash of golden eyes and a snap of his fingers, the Druid leader stuffed both prisoners' mouths with gags. "Don't interrupt me! You're very clever to have found our hideaway. Unfortunately, you won't live to tell the tale."

Though Arthur and Merlin struggled and tried to protest, they were forcefully led deeper into the catacombs. At the end of the chamber was a branch, and they took the right. Soon enough, they happened across an even larger underground room, bright as daylight due to magical orbs.

Druids danced and ate, some slept. Laughter erupted among drinking friends. Most turned when they saw the prisoners being brought in. They were taken up to a tall platform, which before their eyes was transformed into a gallows, and nooses fitted around their necks. Arthur scowled through his gag.

"Gather around, everybody!" called Geoffrey. "There's good 'noose' tonight!"

The Druids laughed at the pun, but Arthur and Merlin rolled their eyes.

"It's a double header, a couple of spies from Uther's army!"

Merlin and Arthur vigorously shook their heads.

"And not just any spies!" Geoffrey continued, holding up a finger and then pointing it toward the pair. "His captain of the knights, and his loyal, bell-ringing henchman!"

The crowd cheered excitedly.

Geoffrey gripped the lever that would drop the trap doors beneath their feet. "Any last words?" he grinned.

Merlin and Arthur both pled through their gags, eyes wide.

"That's what they all say!"

"Wait!" cried a small voice. Mordred pushed his way through the crowd, recognizing Arthur as the man Guinevere had saved.

"Too late!"

"Stop!" Mordred shouted.

"Quiet!" Geoffrey snapped, eyes flashing. Mordred found himself gagged as well, struggling to pull it away from his face. Grinning once more, the man began to pull the lever.

"Stop!"

Merlin and Arthur's shoulders sagged in relief at their savior.

Guinevere was stalking forward angrily. "These men are not spies! They're our friends." With a flash of eyes herself, Merlin and Arthur's gags and bounds were removed, and they worked their jaws and rubbed their wrists gratefully.

Geoffrey laughed heartily. "Why didn't they say so?"

"We did say so!"

Guinevere pointed to Arthur. "This is the knight that saved the baker's family." She pointed to Merlin. "And Merlin helped me escape from the cathedral." At the last bit of information, Arthur raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn't react.

Arthur stepped forward, waving off Guinevere's concern. "We've come to warn you!" he announced, garnering the attention of all the Druids. "Uther is coming! He says he knows where you're hiding, and he's attacking at dawn with a thousand men."

Outraged and horrified gasps and cries rippled through the huddled Druids.

Guinevere stepped forward next to him. "Then let us waste no time! We must leave immediately!"

As one, the Druids began to race about the chamber, packing their things and locating their loved ones. Objects and bags, furniture, and even smaller children were levitated into the air out of the way.

Guinevere stepped closer to Arthur to be heard over the chaos. "You took a terrible risk coming here. It may not exactly show, but we're grateful."

As she shortened the distance between them even more, Arthur caught a glimpse of Merlin's lost expression as he tried to get out of a larger man's path. "Don't thank me," he said, almost cursing himself for not taking her gratuitous kiss. "Thank Merlin. Without his help, I would have never found my way here."

Having said it loud enough for those around them to hear, Merlin's face lit up at the praise.

"Nor would I!" exclaimed a gleeful voice.

Their faces fell in dismay as they turned to see King Uther standing in the doorway, sneering at the dumbstruck Druids. Merlin gaped in horror, a sickening realization threatening to overturn his stomach. Knights slunk out of the shadows, weapons drawn, and took several hostages to dissuade the other magic users from exercising their abilities.

"After twenty years of searching," Uther said, grinning and stepping into the room to have a good look around, "the Crystal Cave is mine at last." He stopped beside his pale and shaking ward. "Dear Merlin, I always knew you would someday be of use to me."

Guinevere narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Why," Uther said gleefully, "he led me right to you, my dear."

She shook her head of dark curls. "You're a liar!"

"And," Uther ignored her, "look what else I've caught in my net. Sir Arthur, back from the dead. Another miracle, no doubt. I shall remedy that."

Arthur made an attempt to punch the man, but a knight quickly halted him, and shackled him with heavy iron manacles. Guinevere was shackled as well.

The king stepped forward, making himself the center of attention. "There will be a bonfire in the square tomorrow, and you're all invited to attend. In fact," he said, relishing the terror he saw, "I insist that you come. Knights, lock them up."

Uther snapped his head around when he felt a small tug on the elbow of his sleeve, annoyed at having been interrupted. He curled his lips in disgust when he saw that it was Merlin, tears streaking his cheeks. "No, Master," he begged softly, voice husky, "please."

He shook him off roughly, then sent him sprawling with a harsh slap to the face, much to the outrage of Arthur and Guinevere. The king addressed a nearby knight: "Take him back to the bell tower. And make sure he stays there."

"Yes, Sire."

The knight hauled Merlin to his feet and dragged him away. Merlin hung his head, eyes burning with shame and fear. He had tried to do the right thing, and had failed. By trying to help, he made everything worse. He failed.

"Merlin!" Guinevere called after him.

"Merlin!" Arthur cried, struggling against the hands that restrained him. "Do what's right! Do what's right!"

Neither received any acknowledgement that Merlin had heard, and soon enough he was gone.