***WARNING: THIS SEGMENT CONTAINS DEPICTION OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE***


CHAPTER EIGHT

The Rescue


It was after midnight and Abersol had returned to Arthur's cell to check on him. The youth had not regained consciousness since the last whipping, and the knight was secretly worried he'd taken the beatings too far, that Arthur would die before Camelot fell to Odin's men.

When he entered the dark, silent cell the torch in his hand illuminated its dismal interior and Arthur's limp body suspended from the wrist shackles.

Abersol set the torch in a holder on one wall and carried a flask of water over to his captive, tilting his head fully back in order to dribble some of its cool contents slowly down his throat. At first Arthur did not respond, then he suddenly choked and coughed and began to come around.

Almost immediately he started mumbling in delirium, seemingly unaware of his surroundings or who was with him. Among the disjointed phrases Abersol caught the name *Guinevere.* He had heard him say that name before, and guessed that this woman was special to the young man.

"Guinevere is lost to you, boy, just as Camelot is," he told him heartlessly.

If Arthur heard or understood him, he made no further response.

The knight gave him more of the water and then re-corked the flask. At least the youth had taken some of the liquid and finally awoken, he thought with some relief, and turned away. Picking up the torch again he left the dismal cell and a semi-conscious Arthur in pitch darkness once more—and thus did not see the bloody water that Arthur vomited up.


With Alice holding the shielding stone, she, Merlin, and Godwin cautiously entered Odin's vast stronghold, silently and invisibly moving past the guards on duty. As long as they stayed close behind her, Merlin and Godwin would also not be detected. Alice had explained to Merlin that the shielding stone had another wonderful facet of magic: its crystal capstone could lead the person holding the magic artifact to whatever destination that person wished. The crystal turned a bright red when the correct direction was taken; otherwise it would return to its deep green color.

Thus following the stone's course as it rested on the palm of the girl's right hand, the trio found the correct passageways which would take them into the lower dungeons of Odin's castle.

Fewer guards were stationed down here, and those that they did come across were either playing cards to while away the late night hours or dozing at their stations. It was apparent that they had little concern that the few prisoners kept in the bowels of the Keep, including Arthur, would be able to escape.

Huddled close together as they progressed into the worst, most dank part of the holding block, the three rescuers located Arthur's cell. Fortunately no guards were stationed here, but as they expected, the rusted iron door was bolted; but Merlin was prepared for that. He raised his right hand and circled it slowly above the lock, murmuring a low incantation as he did so, and the bolt silently unlatched and slid back.

Together they entered the darkened cell, and with another whisper of sound Merlin materialized a glowing ball of hovering light that illuminated the small chamber.

Just as he had seen in his dream-visioning, Arthur's body was suspended from rusted wrist shackles overhead, and he'd been stripped of all of his clothing except for his narrow linen braies. His eyes were closed and his head was arched fully back, showing the corded muscles in his throat and neck. But they could hear him muttering incoherently, apparently unaware of the sudden brightness of the room or of their presence.

Merlin, Alice, and Godwin exchanged anxious glances, then the young warlock and Godwin moved to Arthur's side while Alice remained by the doorway to stand watch.

Even though he knew Arthur was in terrible shape, Merlin's heart lurched in his chest and his blue eyes grew moist when he looked upon his friend. Arthur's normally shining golden hair was matted and dulled with sweat and blood. His finely-chiseled features were barely recognizable as his face was so badly swollen and marred with dark bruising, and there was a gash under his right eye which still looked raw. The deep blade cut on his sword arm from the day of the attack had never been treated and was festering with infection. But it was his body which had been the most brutalized by the merciless lashings and canings he'd been given by Abersol. Arthur's ivory flesh had been so badly flogged that there was almost no untouched surface of bare skin. Even his braies were darkened with both dried and fresh blood as a result of the vicious whippings given his lower body as well.

Standing this close to him, Merlin could also see the wide patch of blue-black bruising and abnormal swelling along the young king's left rib cage and feel the fever heat radiating off of his body. Arthur's breathing was ragged, and Merlin realized he must have congested lungs….perhaps a punctured lung as well.

Even Godwin was shocked and sickened by Arthur's condition. Despite his feelings about Uther Pendragon, he'd never have wished such vicious cruelty visited upon his son. "Poor, poor lad," he mumbled.

Blinking back hot tears of despair and rage, Merlin swallowed hard and whispered, "Arthur?" and then gently touched the other youth. "It's me…Merlin…can you hear me, Sire? They won't hurt you anymore. Friends and I have come to rescue you."

At first there was no response as Arthur's disjointed mutterings continued, and then with difficulty he slowly lifted his head and opened his eyes as much as the swelling around them would allow. In the glow cast by the floating light orb, Merlin saw disbelief and joy appear on his battered face when he registered that Merlin was indeed there and very much alive. Then a glint of amusement flashed in the cobalt blue depths of his fevered eyes. "Merlin," he whispered hoarsely, "Where on earth have you been?"

Merlin made a sound that was part sob and part laugh, tearfully smiling at Arthur's valiant attempt at humor, despite these dire circumstances, by uttering the familiar catch-phrase he knew the other youth had heard often enough since they'd come to know each other.

"My apologies, Sire, but I came as quickly as I was able given that I had an arrow bolt embedded in my chest," he tried to quip back.

"Always an excuse with you, Merlin," Arthur rejoined weakly, trying to continue their familiar banter; then he gave a racking cough and spit up dark, clotted blood.

Alarmed, Merlin urged, "Don't try to talk any more, Sire. We're going to get you down now."

But Arthur held the other youth's tearful gaze and said in a voice now so low that the young warlock could barely understand him: "Somehow I always knew…you had survived…and that…you would come for me. Thank you, Merlin… for always being my one true friend." He paused, struggling to find his breath, then added, "If…if possible…bury me at Camelot…next to my parents. And tell Guinevere how much I…loved…" He wasn't able to finish. His eyes lost their focus and the thickly-lashed eyelids fluttered shut, his head falling forward as he slipped into a welcome, pain-free oblivion.

Profoundly touched by all that Arthur had said, and heartsick to the core of his being, Merlin felt the tears begin to sluice down his cheeks. It was apparent that Arthur was not just grievously injured and ill….but dying, and he knew it.

"We must go now," Godwin said quietly, also deeply affected by their exchange.

"I know," Merlin replied in a choked voice, swiping at his wet cheeks. "But besides his other injuries, his lungs are congested, and he has broken ribs. He's also riddled with fever and infection. He wouldn't be able to walk even if he were conscious."

"Aye, he'll have to be carried," Godwin agreed. "I'll take him once we get him down. You've barely regained your own strength and, besides, if we run into any trouble, you'll need your hands free to be able to use your magic." He removed his long, fur-lined cloak and wrapped it around Arthur's ravaged frame, knowing the warmth from it would be soothing to the traumatized boy and shield him from the cold wind when they left the Keep.

"Go ahead," he said, nodding at Merlin, and the young warlock raised his hand and muttered the spells needed to free Arthur's manacled ankles. As the iron bands snapped open and fell to the stone floor with a dull clang Godwin slipped a strong arm behind Arthur's knees and lifted his legs to ease the weight off of his badly strained arms and shoulders.

Merlin repeated the spell, directing it at his friend's manacled right wrist. The rusted chains rattled, and then the iron band popped open, freeing that arm to fall limply downward by Arthur's side.

The warlock repeated the process with the left wrist, and as Arthur's other arm fell free Godwin caught all of his dead weight, carefully cradling the unconscious youth in his strong arms.

They moved to join Alice who had been glancing anxiously over her shoulder at them as she kept watch by the doorway.

"He's in a bad way, Alice," Merlin said to her. "I don't think he can last long enough to reach your cottage. Is there anything you can do for him now?"

The girl looked sorrowfully at the dying young man draped in her father's arms.

"It will soon be dawn and we must be well away from this place. As it is we've lingered too long, and if I can heal him, that will take time. But at least I can give him some ease now," she whispered, moving to stand close to Arthur. She reached out and touched his fevered forehead and murmured unfamiliar words which, to Merlin, sounded like another language. When finished, she shared a worried glance with her father, then turned away and said, "Come! We must leave now."

"What did you do to him?" Merlin asked anxiously, seeing that Arthur had gone unnaturally still and that his rattling breaths had ceased.

"I've put him into a deeper sleep to ensure he won't suddenly awaken and make a sound that might give us away to the guards. And I cast a temporary healing spell to stabilize and quiet his breathing as well," she explained.

"Thank you," Merlin murmured with relief, and as they left the cell he whispered, "Wait," and paused at the threshold to extinguish the floating light orb. But before he did so, with glowing eyes he murmured another enchantment, leaving a little surprise behind for Sir Abersol and King Odin.

With a sardonic smile he turned away, sealed the cell door again as if it had never been opened, then joined the others.

With added caution they retraced their steps through the dungeons and castle corridors, finally emerging free of the bleak structure into the inky darkness of the night. Hurriedly they headed toward the woodlands where they'd hidden the horses and wagon.

Merlin climbed in back, and with Godwin's help carefully settled Arthur onto his lap and against his chest, trying to keep his friend in a position that would help ease his breathing and relieve pressure on his broken ribs.

Alice and her father then covered the young king with heavy blankets they'd brought along, while Merlin's added body heat would help to warm Arthur.

Dawn was just breaking across the night sky as Godwin and Alice climbed into the front seat of the cart and started for home.