Chapter 4
Two rough and grotesque men ran full force at Merlin, spittle flying from each of their mouths. They raised their weapons at the unarmed servant. He looked up from his vulnerable kneeling position, his eyes shifted to the one that reached him first, the man brought his sword down, attempting to hit Merlin mid chest, but his blade never reached its target.
Merlin barely dived out of the way, landing with a thud on his right side. He rolled away in a flash as another blow barely missed him. He hoisted himself up on one knee, his blood was thumping in his veins, full of fear for the man who was attacking him. The ferocious bandit gritted his teeth, aiming a stroke once again at the servant. And Merlin couldn't duck out of the way this time.
Instinct took over. His eyes burned a fierce gold and his attacker was flung backwards, smacking hard against a nearby tree. Merlin let out a breath he hadn't known he' d been holding. No matter what, he always had his magic. His magic… oh no.
Had Arthur seen him use it?? Merlin was so exhausted… he hadn't even checked to see if no one was looking before using his magic. This certainly would be the end of him if the Prince had, especially condsidering their fight earlier. A potentially fatal error on his part.
Still leaning on his knee, he glanced back at the Prince, Arthur had just finished off an opponent with a clean slice. His head swiveled for more men to face, and his blue, assured eyes met his. Perhaps the prince had been too busy to notice, Merlin thought as he measured the Prince's facial expression. It was determined but something else was written on the handsome man's face- it looked strangely like concern.
Merlin barely registered the yell that was dangerously nearing him, but then Arthur's eyes widened with shock and then fear briefly, before Arthur broke into a determined sprint towards him.
Then the warlock understood. He had forgotten about the second man. He turned, and barely had time to witness the other bandit swing his weapon- a gruesome mace –before hearing a sickening crunch sound near his left ear. Merlin fell away, barely registering the pain as he swam in darkness.
_
Arthur broke into a sprint, pumping his arms and gripping his sword. Merlin still hadn't turned around, hadn't realized his mistake. He was just looking at him, blue eyes locked on the Prince before slowly turning around, that's when Merlin must of realized, if just a little too late. Arthur then noticed that Merlin wasn't carrying a weapon. Not one! Not that it would have made a difference. The bandit was moving too fast, already swinging his spiked mace down-
CRUNCH!
-Arthur watched in pure horror as Merlin landed, hard, and unmoving.
The mace had hit him on the side of the head and blood was already seeping through Merlin's dark locks from the fresh wound. The Prince felt the same intense worry as he had earlier, watching, once again as Merlin lay motionless on the ground. His worry though, quickly turned to contempt at his servant's attacker.
Arthur's anger boiled up in him, hot as ever towards the bandit, a man who would ruthlessly attack a vulnerable and defenseless servant. And he sped up, reaching the man as he was about to deliver a surely finishing blow to Merlin. Arthur skillfully blocked the blow with his sword, pushing the crude weapon up and away from his manservant. The grizzly bandit turned to the ferocious prince and aimed his next blow low, trying to attack his side. But the Prince shifted so that it flew past his side and brought down his sword on the man's mace, knocking it down on the ground and in one smooth motion, cut the man through the middle.
Arthur paid no attention to the man as he fell the ground, dead. He knelt by Merlin who lay a skewed, in the dirt. For some reason he couldn't fathom, Arthur needed his bumbling servant to be alright. He just did. And as he reached his fingers to quick feel for Merlin's pulse, his last words to the loyal servant tauntingly echoed through his mind, sounding cutting even to him.
"You're not an advisor, Merlin." He added extra coldness to his voice. "You're a servant, so serve."
He shuddered. He couldn't let Merlin go with that. He had to fix this. Putting his fingers on Merlin's neck, he eventually found a pulse. Merlin was going to be alright. Well, for now… Arthur thought grimly.
He didn't know if Merlin's head could take anymore of this. But he must attend to Merlin later, he would have to, because his knights were know being engulfed with bandits. Arthur knew his place and his obligation was with them, and besides, there was no immediate danger near Merlin now that he was out cold.
He hurried to where his knights were quite remarkably fighting off more than fifteen bandits, but he could tell that the battle was taking a turn for the worse. Perspiration coated the knight's faces as they moved, blocked and advanced, and their movements were becoming slow and heavy. They were outnumbered, but Arthur knew his men, they could get through this, they simply needed the right motivation.
"Come on, Men!" Arthur shouted as he parried blows from two ruggedly dressed bandits. "We must fight! We will not fall to these bandits in the middle of the forest. Fight for your families, because this is not your day to die, I am sure of it!" He finished the last with a grunt as he sliced one of the two with a skilled stoke.
The men seemed to change after Arthur's words of encouragement, and despite the obviousdisadvantage, they seemed to, blow by blow, gain the upper hand. With all the knights working at full pace, they had narrowed the enemies force from the original twenty to five. But that's when one of the remaining bandits let out a wild cry that rebounded through the forest.
Arthur's insides filled with dread as twenty more bandits flooded over the small hill, thundering through the forest full speed at the prince and his knights. If only he had gotten to the man before he signaled a second attack.
Damn it! There's no way we can stand this for much longer, twenty five to seven?? Arthur knew that the odds weren't at all good. Even though his knights had more training than the bandits who were attacking him, he was concerned, he could not see a way out of this.
With a storm of clanging and grunting, the battle began with new life as the group of bandits loudly collided with the struggling knights. Each one parried and advanced in a deadly dance, and it wasn't long before Arthur heard a few bodies fall to the ground. He couldn't look away, but he prayed they were not the bodies of his knights, but of the bandits.
In a quick move, Arthur brought back his sword and spun around bringing down a blow on one of the man's side and then quickly parried a blow from the other. Then a sharp, pain filled yell filled the forest, a familiar sound from the days of training his knights.
He looked up for a split second, and saw his knight fall to the ground, a deep puncture wound in the young knight's stomach. Arthur was instantly saddened, he had trained with the knight, Marius, for almost three years now, and he didn't know if he could bare to see another person he cared for get hurt in this attack. He still didn't know if Merlin was just simply hurt or fatally injured, but he knew that the blow his Marius had received would be an ending one.
He gulped. He knew that this battle would not be won. The odds were too great and though he believed fully in his skills as a warrior, there were just too many bandits.
As if this wasn't enough, he spotted another group of men rush into the small battle scene. Though something was different about them… they had on all black, different from the leather and scrap clothing of the bandits. And though it was a big group, around thirty, they moved together in unison, unsheathing their swords. Their running and movements organized by an obvious leader in the front. Nothing at all like the ruthless, senseless bandits that had been attacking Arthur's group for what seemed like hours.
He hoped these differences meant they were there to help the misfortunate party. But he couldn't know for sure. He waited and watched these men, as they converged on the two fighting groups with baited breath. The leader, a strong and handsome man, reached them first. The man's path had led him straight to Arthur, and the Prince steadily raised his sword.
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