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Chapter Eight

Resentment burned in Brinley's chest. It was just like Aydric not to want to get his hands dirty. "Take them out deep in the forest where no one will ever find them and kill them. I want them dead before I get back," Aydric had told him. Then the man had left to resume his privileged life as the second son of the Duke of Atherton.

Brinley was still seething when he picked three men seemingly at random to help him take the two captives into the forest. Someone who was paying attention might have noticed that the three men he chose were all from the village of Goedwig, including the one who had angered Aydric by expressing gratitude toward the prince.

Arthur stumbled blindly along, tripping over roots and fallen branches, whether from accident or as a delaying tactic wasn't clear. He was saved from falling several times by the men on either side of him. Merlin fell also, once crying out as he fell hard onto his belly.

"Merlin!" The prince stopped abruptly, trying to pull away from the men holding him. "Let him go! He can't hurt you." He waited for one of them to strike him, but surprisingly the blow never fell. His request was met with silence. Arthur was puzzled. There was something going on here that he didn't understand. Some undercurrent. Thinking rapidly, the blonde considered and rejected several possible ways out of their current predicament. The gods alone knew where Sir Leon and his knights were. He kept coming back to Merlin. Had his servant forgotten he had magic?

"Let me speak to my servant alone before you - "

"No," Brinley said, brusquely, interrupting him.

"Why not? We can't run," Arthur said. "Just give me a few minutes. Please."

"Not another word," Brinley said harshly.

Energy seeped from Arthur's body and his legs felt leaden, not from any physical exertion but from hopelessness and the thought that he had failed his friend.

After some time they came to an abrupt halt. "This is far enough," Brinley told his men. "I can take it from here. Go back to camp." He pulled a dagger from his belt.

The three men exchanged glances then looked unhappily at the prince. "Are you sure about this?" one of them ventured.

"Yes. Go."

Two of the men immediately left, but the third stood there silently until they were out of range.

"Well?" Brinley demanded.

"You're letting them go, aren't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Brinley said, evasively, tightly gripping the prince's arm with one hand, the dagger in the other.

"You know he'll kill you."

Arthur, first thinking the reference was to himself, started to say he would not, then realized they weren't talking about him at all. They were talking about the man who had ordered their deaths.

"He can try," Brinley said, through his teeth.

Arthur stood waiting apprehensively, barely daring to believe that this wasn't all just a cruel joke. Relief flooded through him when he felt the knife slice through the ropes binding his wrists. He started to reach up to remove the blindfold when Brinley grabbed his arm. "Stay still." To the other smuggler: "Go back to the campsite. Now."

A few moments later, Arthur tore off the blindfold in time to see Brinley move toward his servant with the knife. "I'll do it myself," the prince said, seizing the dagger and freeing his friend. He looked at Merlin's face, seeing the dried blood and the discolored skin. He picked up both his wrists in turn and inspected the rope burns. "You all right?" he asked in a gentle tone Brinley would not have supposed him capable of.

"I'm all right, Arthur."

The blonde turned and for the first time looked closely at the man who had freed them. His eyes traveled down to the sword and scabbard at the man's side. "Is that my sword?"

"Yes, I brought it to give to you. I'll be needing my dagger back," he said with a slight smile. The weapons were exchanged. "I can't give you any horses, I'm afraid. You've got a long walk ahead of you."

"Thanks to you, we're alive to take it." Both men looked around. There was some change in the atmosphere, a sudden chill. Brinley caught a whiff of something familiar - cinnamon, he thought, and some kind of flower. He turned a puzzled look toward Arthur. The prince sighed, not sure he was up to dealing with the girl right now.

The smuggler turned his head at the sound of light footsteps falling. Unbelievably, there was a girl walking toward them from between the trees. She seemed barely past her childhood. Her straight auburn hair was of a silky texture with gold streaks running through it, her brown eyes limpid and clear. She was dressed in a gown of cobalt blue, empire-waisted, with a long beige sash which wrapped around her torso and tied in front. Matching beige ribbons tied around her upper arms, the sleeves themselves falling long and loose nearly to the forest floor. A ruby-studded firebird dangled from a long silver chain around her neck. "Hello, Prince Arthur," the girl said.

"Mariana," the prince said, with a little nod of acknowledgement.

They know each other, the smuggler thought in shock. Who is this girl? He watched as she turned to the dark-haired servant, gently touching his cheek.

"Who did this to him?" she asked in a low voice. Arthur could hear the fury behind the words. Her eyes met Brinley's.

"No! Mariana, it wasn't him!" Arthur said, hastily. He wasn't going to repay the man's recent kindness by getting him killed by the goddess' daughter.

"You brought Em - Merlin through a portal into my world, and you didn't stay to say hello to my mother?" Mariana asked, in an annoyed tone. She kissed her fingertips as she spoke and touched Merlin's cheek. The bruises and the cut by his mouth healed. Brinley felt a frisson of fear ripple down his spine. There was something otherworldly and unnerving about the girl.

"When I was trying to slay the serpent, there was an accident. To Merlin." Arthur was grateful for the moment that his friend's recent dousing was serving some useful purpose. He had no desire to meet the Goddess of the Underworld.

Mariana turned her brown eyes back to Merlin's blue ones then ran her creamy soft hands across his shoulders and down his arms, turning his hands palms up. She saw no obvious injury. "He seems unharmed. What happened?"

Arthur watched bemused. Under ordinary circumstances, Merlin was terrified of the girl. Now he was standing there smiling shyly at her, letting her touch him. "He was thrown into the River Lethe. He swallowed some of the water before I could get to him."

Tears welled up in the girl's brown eyes. "Arthur, I can't fix this." She pulled Merlin against her, hugging him, her cheek pressed against his.