A/N - Sorry about the delay, but the good news is chapter ten is finished and with the betas now. Woo Hoo. I have not yet started on eleven but it's coming along. Thanks again for all the lovely reviews.
Chapter Nine
The anger Nelora felt was palpable, and she positioned herself in the middle of the opening so that she was blocking the only exit somewhat. "This is foolishness! By doing this you put not only this community, but all druid communities at risk. Arthur Pendragon is the future king and right now his mind is open to accepting magic, but that will be destroyed if you try to kill him."
Barach stepped up to Nelora and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "If Emrys dies and the prophecy dies with him, the future will be no different. We have made our decision, Nelora." With that he moved her aside and stepped out into the late afternoon light.
As the rest of the elders passed her in silence she glared at them shaking her head. When Araben drew even with her he stopped; his old and weathered face unreadable. He raised wrinkled and frail hands to her face holding it between them gently. "Nelora, you are the most skilled healer I have known in all of my long years. I felt hope wither when you said that Emrys was dying. It is true that Barach's plan will put us all at risk, not only from the seat of power in Camelot, but from Emrys himself should this work, but I believe that it is a risk we must take. You need to have faith in Barach; he will not allow the unthinkable to happen."
Nelora looked back into the Araben's wise old eyes, and for a glimmer of a moment she believed him, but she simply could not sanction this course of action. "Araben, you must know and record that I oppose this decision. I have never doubted Barach before."
"Then do not doubt him now, child."
"All I have are doubts, Araben. This is not something I can accept. I am a healer, I do not take life, nor can I sanction the taking of life, even for a greater purpose. I cannot be a part of this, Araben. I am telling you this now; if the council does this, I will leave."
Araben stood back from Nelora, a deep sadness shadowing his features. "Then it is a sad day for all of us. You must do what you feel is necessary, as must we all."
With a heavy heart Araben turned away from the healer and walked toward the center of the community.
Arthur was sitting quietly next to Merlin's bed when several druids including Barach stepped into the tent. Arthur stood up to face the newcomers and felt his stomach tighten at their grim faces. The prince watched as the men continued into the tent; his fighter's instincts kicking into high gear as he took note that each of these men were large and heavily muscled. None of them carried weapons, but Arthur's hand automatically sought out the hilt of his sword as the men took up flanking positions while Barach walked up to face him directly.
"What is going on?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice calm even as his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The barest nod was the queue the druids surrounding Arthur were looking for and they quickly converged on the young prince, but Arthur was expecting it and had his sword out and ready for a fight before any of the men laid hands on him. "What are you playing at, Barach?"
The druid leader raised his hand toward Arthur causing the young man to grip his sword tighter and crouch for attack.
"Forhanbban." the leader whispered, and suddenly Arthur found himself frozen in place.
Arthur couldn't believe that the druid leader had used magic on him. His anger flared as he shouted at the man. "Let me go, Barach! You have no right to detain me; I've done nothing to any of you."
Barach nodded to his men again and they stepped up to either side of Arthur, removing his sword and binding his hands behind his back. The magical restraint melted away once his arms were securely tied with strong leather straps.
In a quiet voice that almost sounded regretful Barach said, "You should not have come with us, you should have stayed at the clearing in the forest."
The regret that shown in Barach's eyes confused Arthur and he tried to appeal to his sense of compassion. "I have always been told that druids are evil because they were users of magic, but I have seen for myself that not to be true. I have always been taught that magic corrupts the soul of those who posses it, but you and Aenya have shown me differently. Will you change that perception now?"
The men holding Arthur's arms tightly exchanged uncertain looks with their leader who also seemed pained by what was happening. For a moment Arthur thought that he had reached the man, but then Barach stood a little taller with determination on his face, and in a loud and clear voice he spoke. "Arthur Pendragon, the council of elders have come to an accord. You are guilty of murder among our people."
Arthur's mouth dropped open in shock and he was about to protest the accusation, but Barach continued before he could say anything. "You and your men came into this forest and slaughtered every druid in our sister encampment. Innocent men, women, and children have died at your hands."
"I was acting on the orders of the king, Barach! Your people kidnapped the king's ward! How did you expect him to react?" Arthur shouted back, as he struggled to free himself from the bonds and the men restraining him.
"We are a peaceful society, Arthur Pendragon; we do not kidnap people. Judgment has been pronounced. You will be burned at the stake at sundown. Take him away."
Arthur wasn't going to go down without a fight. The two men holding his arms were large and strong, but he could tell that they were not natural fighters. He could not get his arms free of their restraining hold so he used it to his advantage and jumped up with both feet kicking outward and viciously connecting with Barach's chest.
The druid leader flew backward as Arthur's full weight made the surprised druid men on either side of him loose their grip on his arms. He fell heavily on the edge of the bed Merlin was lying in, jostling the young man which elicited a weak moan that no one but Arthur heard. Pain seared through the prince's back with the impact, but he ignored it, rolling forward and to the side. As he rolled he brought his arms lower down his back and past his hips using the momentum to slip his legs through and bring his tied arms around in front of him.
Before Arthur could make it up and onto his feet one of the larger druid men landed heavily on top of him trying to pin him to the floor of the tent, but Arthur rolled quickly throwing the man off. As he spun round to his back he kicked upward at the next man approaching him with a solid blow to the jaw while he continued to twist his body and brought his tied wrists down with tremendous force on the chest of the druid who had tried to pin him to the ground knocking the wind out of him.
Barach was just making it to his feet as Arthur jumped up in one smooth motion. Two more druid men, smaller than the first two, rushed at the prince who jumped up grabbing the cross bar used to section off the private quarters of the healer, and kicked out with force connecting with one of them sending him flying backward into his companion causing both to crash the floor of the tent in a heap. Arthur dropped lightly back to the ground and dropped to his backside rolling under the separating barrier into Nelora's private area. He gained his feet quickly and bolted for the side wall of the tent intent on escaping under the fabric wall.
He had to hurtle the healer's bed and literally dive at the floor to roll under the side wall of the tent. The momentum of his dive tore the stakes out of the ground holding the side walls of the tent in place and nearly took that section of the tent down. Another sharp pain ripped through Arthur's back as he rolled across the stakes carving a gash across his flank, but he hardly noticed as his eyes scanned the area for the quickest escape route he could find.
Shouts were issuing from inside the tent as the stunned druid leader and his men regained their feet and ran from the healer's shelter in pursuit. Arthur gained his feet quickly and turned in the direction the horses were tethered. The commotion had caused the once peaceful camp to come alive with shouts and confusion which Arthur tried to use as a diversion. He made a mad dash for the other side of the encampment jumping over or around obstacles and people running out of their shelters to find out what the ruckus was all about.
As Arthur darted around the side of one of the tents near the border of the camp he saw the horses forty yards away and ran full pelt toward them, but didn't get very far as a blaze of pain and white light blinded him before darkness descended like an anvil over him. An elderly woman with a shock of white curly hair stepped out of the tent holding a heavy metal cooking pan just as Arthur rounded the edge of the structure. He caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, but didn't even have time to duck as she raised the pan up and clocked him across the side of his head.
The young prince of Camelot dropped like a stone; felled by a woman old enough to be his grandmother with nothing more than a cooking pan.
A voice reached out to Merlin through the haze of pain and confusion. He was longing to hear her voice, but this wasn't it. The voice he heard was masculine and familiar, but he couldn't quite remember who it belonged to. He knew it was important but he was so very tired. 'Why won't you trust me, Merlin?' The voice sounded angry and maybe even a little bit scared. He didn't want that voice to be scared. Somehow it was important that he sooth the voice, but he couldn't remember how or why.
He felt something - a connection - as if a warmth had enveloped his hand. The voice was back and filled with something; was it concern, or frustration? 'You helped her escape; you fell in love with her. Merlin, she could have killed you!'
He didn't know how, but Merlin knew that this disembodied voice was talking about her. The voice was wrong; Freya would never have harmed him. He wasn't afraid of her, he couldn't be. She was the one person he could be completely honest with. She was the only person he had ever met who didn't judge him for who he was. He desperately longed to hear her voice and as if summoned by his own need it came to him. Hers was different than the first voice; farther away, insubstantial somehow in comparison, yet the impact it had was powerful. 'You've already saved me, Merlin. You made me feel loved.'
A desolate despair filled his whole being at the sound of her voice. More than anything Merlin wanted to go to that voice, but something was holding him back. There was something he was supposed to do, but he was so tired. He didn't have the strength to do anything.
The first voice, the one that seemed so much closer spoke again and this time there was no anger in it, only regret. 'I killed her. You were in love with her and I killed her.' Those words caused a switch to flip in his mind and suddenly Merlin knew the voice now. It belonged to Arthur. He was supposed to protect Arthur, but the prince wasn't here in this place of mist and shadow. Merlin was floating in an abyss of pain and sorrow and had no idea where he was supposed to go. He wanted to follow Freya's voice, but every fiber of his being was telling him to let her go, to find Arthur, but he had no idea how.
He tried calling out to Arthur but the prince couldn't hear him. Freya's voice had faded into the abyss and he could no longer hear it. A part of him wanted to block out Arthur and his destiny. That part wanted to drift through the abyss and find Freya; find her voice again, and stay wrapped up in the love and warmth that voice provided. Those thoughts were washed away when a new voice reached him. This voice was one he knew he had never heard before, but what it said forced Merlin to turn away from the mist and abandon any thoughts of following Freya through the abyss.
'Arthur Pendragon, the council of elders have come to an accord. You are guilty of murder among our people.'
Merlin felt frantic as he realized that Arthur was in trouble. He needed to save him, but he didn't know where Arthur was. He tried to follow the sound of the unfamiliar voice, but it existed beyond the swirling mist that seemed to surround him. He tried to run toward the voice through the mist, but in this place nothing worked as it should. He couldn't run when his feet were not standing on anything solid. He reached toward the voice, but once again nothing worked as it should.
'Judgment has been pronounced. You will be burned at the stake at sundown.'
Panic gripped Merlin's heart. He needed to find Arthur now. He forced the panic aside knowing that he needed to get to Arthur, but he couldn't walk or run or even reach out to him. Merlin decided that since nothing worked the way it was supposed to work in this place he would try something that shouldn't work. He remained very still and tried to focus all of his concentration on willing himself to find Arthur. To his amazement he felt something shift in the reality of what surrounded him. He didn't know how, but he was moving through the mist now.
Suddenly pain erupted all around Merlin and he heard a low moan. It took him some time to realize that the moan had come from him because it also sounded distant like the voices of Arthur and his accuser. There was noise surrounding him, several voices now reached through the mist as though he were listening to a distant battle. He heard children laughing, he heard a woman singing, he heard people talking and shouting. The confusion and cacophony of it all served to make Merlin feel like he was spiraling out of control. He had to find Arthur's voice and block out all of these other voices. It was Arthur he needed to find, but blackness enveloped him in a wash of shouts and deafening noise.
The deep throbbing in his head is what finally caused Arthur to crack open his eyes. The sun was low on the horizon and that made him very uneasy for some reason. He attempted to reach up with his hands to hold his aching head but found that he couldn't. He tried again and his eyes opened wide in shock as he remembered what was happening. Arthur was sitting on a very small square platform with a tall stake extending up from the center. His arms were tied securely behind him around the stake. A huge thatch and wood pile was built up around the stake and what looked like the entire druid community was gathered around him. Arthur pulled his legs back and pushed up against the platform bringing himself up to a standing position. His head throbbed unmercifully as he stood, but he hardly took notice. He could see the healer's tent directly in front of him and knew that Merlin lay dying inside which filled him with sadness. Several men came into view carrying torches and Arthur's mind froze as he felt fear wrap icy fingers around his heart. The men walked over to the wood pile beneath Arthur's platform and took up positions around it.
For a moment Arthur couldn't breathe. He looked into the faces of the people who had gathered to watch him die. Most held solemn expressions, but he did see a few who had a gleam of excitement in their eyes as though anticipating a spectacle for their entertainment. This is what Gaius felt as he stood before the crowd tied to the stake awaiting his own death. This is what they all saw and felt before his father had pronounced judgment.
Arthur looked to the left and saw Barach standing on a raised platform. He was staring intently at the healer's tent as if waiting for something, then he turned and looked at Arthur with his hand raised. For that instant he didn't see Barach or the druid settlement. What Arthur saw was his father standing on the battlement, hand raised in judgment ready to give the order to light the fire underneath his feet. A fear that Arthur had never felt before in his life grabbed a hold of him and tears of regret welled up in his eyes. He had stood by and watched as his father had ordered execution after execution sometimes on hear-say alone. Arthur had committed no crime other than to follow the orders of his king and yet here he was about to die a horrible death. How many users of magic had died this way for the crime of being able to use magic? How many of those people had committed no crime against their king or Camelot?
Barach's hand dropped and the men holding the torches set them to the pile. The flames grew quickly licking upward like vicious snakes devouring everything they touched. The heat reached Arthur long before the flames would. He struggled to free himself from the bonds holding him but they were tied too tightly. There were shouts and some screams from the crowd gathered as the wood pile became engulfed. He heard a few jeers from the back of the crowd and he heard some of the women crying and a primal fear course through his body as he faced his death.
Suddenly all of the screaming and crying and shouting from the crowd stopped and the only sound left was the crackling of the flames that were now mere inches from the platform he stood on. Arthur looked up and to his astonishment he saw a figure stumble from the entrance of Nelora's tent. It was Merlin. He staggered forward and had to catch himself before he fell; wrapping his right arm around the trunk of a slender tree. He looked up at Arthur through the flames growing higher and higher and raised his bandaged left arm up, his hand extended to the sky.
"I'll not allow you to hurt him!"
Arthur stared in shock at his servant's words, but that was nothing compared to what he felt when Merlin's eyes glowed brilliant gold and a peel of thunder louder than anything he had ever heard before shook the forest. Heavy rain began to fall in huge drops soaking everything in its deluge. The fire began to sputter as great billowing clouds of smoke and steam rose up from the pyre. In only moments the flames diminished to nothing but a flicker and died. The ropes holding Arthur loosened and slipped down off of his arms as he stood stunned beyond belief at his friend. Anger, betrayal, and even fear washed through Arthur at the realization that the one person who was closest to him was a sorcerer. All of the time they had spent together had been a lie. Merlin had lied to him from the start and he had never even seen it.
None of the druids had moved, no one made any kind of attempt to contain Arthur as he jumped down from the platform over the dying embers of the fire that was meant to kill him. The people who had been standing directly in front of the fire had moved to the side when Merlin appeared and Arthur had a clear path directly to him. The rain began to slacken as Merlin dropped to his knees still clinging to the tree that supported him. The golden hue in his eyes faded back to a normal color and the boy's head and arm dropped as he collapsed against the tree he still clung to.
The rain stopped, and Arthur stood momentarily frozen, not knowing what he should do. He was surrounded by enemies and the only person he thought he could trust had been lying to him from the moment they met. A small part of Arthur's mind tried to reason with him, saying that Merlin couldn't very well tell him the truth. Arthur glanced back at the platform he had just been tied to. He remembered the heat of the flames that were perilously close to burning him alive and the feeling of stark terror at that fate, then he looked back at Merlin who was barely holding onto consciousness, slumped against a tree. Merlin, the young servant who had just saved his life; Merlin the man who faced an entire community of magic users in a state of near death only to boldly state that he would not allow them to harm Arthur. Seeing Merlin, perhaps for the first time, he gazed at a small, weak, and utterly loyal servant and it galvanized him into action. Arthur ran straight to Merlin and reaching a strong arm around the boy's waist he hauled him up to his feet.
"Come on, Merlin, we need to get out of here now." Arthur hissed in his ear. Arthur ran for the horses practically carrying Merlin along. There was no one with a cooking pan in his way now, as everyone had gathered in the center of the settlement to watch him die. Arthur got to the horses unhindered and the first thing he did was take out his other sword from the scabbard fastened to the side of his saddle. Merlin was barely holding his own weight on wobbly legs and Arthur knew he needed to get him up on his horse and fastened there quickly. With his sword in one hand and Merlin supported under his other arm he moved around to Merlin's mare.
"Come on, Merlin, we have to get you up on the horse. Try to stand up."
Merlin raised a pain filled, fever ridden face up to Arthur. The prince couldn't tell if he saw tears running down the young man's face or rain droplets from his soaked hair.
"I'm sorry, Arthur." was all he said, before closing his eyes and surrendering to unconsciousness.
"Merlin, NO! We're almost there. Hang on, please you can't give up now."
Arthur wasn't sure when he stopped being shocked by the revelation that Merlin was a sorcerer, or when he stopped feeling angry and betrayed, but all he saw now was his friend hanging limply from his arms; his friend who needed his help, and he would not fail him, not again. Arthur was about to bodily lift the young man up and onto his horse when he heard the footsteps behind him. He had no choice but to let Merlin slip to the sodden earth as he turned to face Barach and his followers approach.
Positioning himself between the recumbent form of his friend and the druids nearing him he crouched into a defensive stance ready to fight to the death if necessary. "I won't let you hurt him, Barach!"
TBC
