Cured
By TheAlmightySun
Chapter ten
_____
"You're insane," Merlin breathed, staring at Amaroe's delighted face.
The silence rung clear in the small, dark room.
Amaroe turned back to him, speaking softly. "Is that so." He eyed Merlin peculiarly. The young man raised defiantly in his chains, swallowing the agony still fierce in his entire body.
"I could hand you in to the king right now." Amaroe said. "He'd have you executed in a matter if days once I tell him of your… miraculous… recovery."
"I'm not a sorcerer," Merlin repeated, louder. "And even if I was, I would never help you kill Arthur."
Amaroe paused, licking his lips. Merlin didn't dare to move.
Then Amaroe's expression turned murderous.
He rushed forward and grabbed Merlin by the neck, pushing at his windpipe. Merlin gagged, unable to breath. His hands pulled against the chains, but he couldn't break loose. His magic sparked up, but he didn't dare use it. He gazed into the eyes of his captor, helpless and paralyzed.
"Now listen to me sorcerer," the man hissed fiercely in Merlin's ear. "I know your kind. You'd love nothing more then watch the king die, and that magic-child prince rising to power in his place. Arthur is weak. He would destroy everything his father has worked for years to build, and will bring the evil craft of sorcery back into the kingdom." Merlin retched, his head becoming foggy with lack of oxygen. "Uther is still young." Amaroe continued. "He will remarry and have other heirs- ones that realize what abomination magic truly is." Finally, Amaroe let go of Merlin, and the boy collapsed, gasping and coughing, into his chair. "Arthur must die," Amaroe muttered, half to himself. "There has to be some sort of spell to kill a man unnoticeably. Sorcerers have done it plenty of times. It must be a difficult charm, but you, with your astonishing powers-" he turned to Merlin excitedly. "It'll be a nothing for you."
Merlin looked up at Amaroe, trying to breath. "I- am not- a sorcerer," he gasped, voice breaking. "I can't- I- won't help- you."
Amaroe stayed as he was, smiling at Merlin a warm smile.
"I think you will," he said. "Unless you want me to take your magic again."
Merlin froze.
Amaroe's smile grew. "That's what I thought."
Thoughts jumbled in confusion in Merlin's head. He didn't know why his entire body suddenly stiffened, immobile and cold. There was ringing in his ears. He saw nothing but blackness. His heart was pounding, thunder in his ears, and his mind screamed in protest of the very notion of ever having to-
But it didn't matter.
"I'm not going to help you kill the prince," He said again, slowly, fear and determination growing as one inside him. Amaroe's smile wavered.
"I doubt that," He said, and turned, opening the door abruptly. Merlin shut his eyes against the blinking light, pain shooting through his skull.
"Guards," Amaroe said. Two men came in, dressed in the red robes of the knights of Camelot. They had dark skin and empty expressions, their giant bodies identical in all but scars.
"You will help me," Amaroe said to Merlin easily. The men steped toward him, and he flinched back, pulling the chains. "Or you'll die."
One of the men grabbed Merlin's left arm, and held it tightly.
"Hey-!"
The other took a strange, insect-like object out of his coat, placing Merlin's pointing finger between its contraptions.
"What are you doing?"
The guards looked at Amaroe, who nodded, his expression curious again. Merlin's head snapped from the silent man to the two holding him down, fear growing within him. Then the second man closed the object's handles, and the teeth crushed over Merlin's finger, shuttering the bone.
Merlin screamed, trying to pull his hand back, but the first man held it in place. Merlin gritted his teeth, groans of suffering escaping his tightly pinched lips.
"Well?" Amaroe asked, innocently.
"You're mad," Merlin whispered, shaking his head, gasping with pain. Amaroe looked down, smiling ironically.
"I've spent a lifetime studying sorcerers," he said, straightening his gaze to Merlin's agonized eyes. "How to make them do what I want."
"I won't help you kill Arthur," Merlin called again, and the door behind Amaroe's turned back flew open by its own, hitting the wall crushingly.
Amaroe turned, and smiled. Merlin breathed hard, trying to keep conscious. Tilting his head to the side with fascination, Amaroe signaled the guards, who move on to the next finger.
"No- wait!" Merlin pleaded, shaking with pain.
Amaroe grinned victoriously, and they paused.
"Yes?"
Merlin looks at him, breathing hard.
There was silence.
"Never mind," He said then, and closed his eyes tightly. Amaroe's smile lessened. He nodded at the two men, and turned to leave.
Merlin braced himself, and screamed.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Amaroe left the cell in high spirits, the boy's screams reverberating through the hall behind him, mingling with the echoes of his tread.
It would not take long for the young sorcerer to join him. Corbell and Terko, his trusted men, were very good at convincing people.
And even if they didn't. There was always science to count on.
With the boy's talents… Amaroe relished at the thought. So much wild, raw magic… what could be done with such boundless, limitless power! Amaroe run his tongue over his lips, picturing the potential. Getting rid of that ignorant, mutinous prince was only the beginning. After that…
He chuckled. The possibilities…
He had reached his study, and entered. His rooms were warm compared to the halls, and Amaroe pulled off the extravagant robes he'd worn. Then, watching that the fire at the hearth was still flaming, he moved toward a beautiful wooden closet with doors made of glass, within which hundreds of small carefully labeled bottles glistening sadistically, reflecting the light of the hearth.
On the top shelf was a bottle, around two inches high, with a transparent liquid unmoving inside.
He had been working with warlocks for many, many years. They were not an understanding bunch. They could never accept the gift he was giving them- freedom, from the incarceration of sorcery. They often needed to be persuaded before agreeing to his wishes and doing as he demanded. That was why he'd created this particular concussion.
He didn't have a name for it. He rarely had names for his inventions. He'd used it plenty of times before. The more powerful the wizard, the better it worked; the greatest example being the two brothers, Corbell and Terko, who had been his to command for almost three years.
It was a marvelous mixture. A few key ingredients and a pint of his spit, and he had his patients abiding his every word and demand. Unquestioning. Never failing. With no hesitation or remark, they simply did as instructed, without a second thought.
Amaroe pulled the bottle out, and smiled at his image shimmering in the glass.
Of course, there were drawbacks. Amaroe locked the closet, slipping the bottle into an inner pocket of his coat. It only worked on those with magical ability, for instance. Only those with significant ability, at that. And of course it took an unguarded mind- a rare find indeed. But Amaroe wasn't worried. A healthy body is a healthy mind, as the saying went. Or something like that.
And if that night's physical pain did not cause the necessary mental distress, well…
There was always tomorrow.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Atora stared at her food.
It was disgusting. On her plate was a giant, gray-scaled fish the size of her fist, its dead, staring eyes gazing up at her accusingly, and its mouth open and stuffed with some green thing that smelled like the stables. Around the fish-head was a circle of its own eggs, wet and sticky and colored a vomit educing pink.
She couldn't stand pink.
She was sitting between two of her cousins at King Uther's table, wrestling with her insides. The sound of people eating filled the large hall, silverware clashing against plates and soft murmurs of conversation. Her father sat next to his brother, who sat next to Uther, who sat next to an empty sit where his son was supposed to be. Uther kept glancing at the door with irritation every few minutes, awaiting the prince. Meanwhile her uncle kept him company, discussing taxes and farming lands. Atora looked at her father, who sat silently next to the two kings. Though him and his brother were twins, and similar in every physical aspect apart from her uncle's lighter eyes, no one ever confused them. It had something to do with Boro's open charismatic expression against her father's brooding, menacing one.
Her father was the oldest between them, by exactly three minutes. He was supposed to become king, until her grandfather decreed differently. The old king did not believe in the seniority of age, much less of 180 seconds. He declared that the first of his sons to produce a male heir would be his replacement.
Her mother got pregnant two months before the current queen. Nine months later, when her father had been ready to except the throne, she was born, female.
Her cousins giggled loudly, and asked permission from their father to leave. He smiled and nodded, waving them off. Atora looked back to the fish. The green stuff was drizzling out of its mouth.
"Would you like some more water, my lady?" A voice said from behind her. She glanced back at Gwen, who was holding a pitcher in her arms and trying not to look uncomfortable or worried, though dark circles surrounded her eyes.
When Atora turned, the girl gasped.
"What- your face!"
"It's nothing. I'd love some more water, thanks."
Gwen stood there, shocked, and then proceeded to pour the water with shaking hands. As she leaned she whispered in Atora's ears.
"Who did that to you?"
Atora didn't answer. She glanced at her dad, who was staring at his brother with discreet hate.
Gwen looked at him, too. She paled. The water overflowed, and Gwen gaped, pulling back the pitcher.
"I'm sorry-!" she called loudly. The people at the table turned to them, and laughed. Atora rose to her feet, her lap drenched. "Come on, my lady," Gwen muttered, guilty. "I'll help you find something dry…"
Atora let the girl pull her out of the room, down the hall, and though the labyrinth of the castle and back to her family's chambers.
Gwen closed the door behind them, leaning back on it.
"Did your father do that to you?"
Atora stood silent, gazing at the servant thoughtfully. She knew what Gwen was referring to. She had bruises around her neck, and her left cheek was swollen. She touched her face gingerly, remembering last night.
Gwen came toward her, inspecting the wounds. "I would have never thought- I mean- he is the king's brother!"
"And I am a girl," Atora explained cynically, letting the older girl gawk at her face. "I'm fine," She added after a while, in reaction to Gwen's horrified expression.
"You should tell someone," The servant said hesitantly, going over to get a bowl of water and a wet cloth. She began dubbing at the injuries gently, trying her hardest not to hurt the torn skin. "It's not… supposed to be that way."
"Tell who, exactly?" Atora asked scornfully, trying not to verbalize her pain. "My mother knows. My uncle knows. Everyone knows. And yet no one seems to."
Gwen perched her lips, frowning. Atora was surprised by her reaction. Not many people in her country thought it was even odd.
"Then you should leave," The servant stated angrily. "You can't let him do that to you."
There was a long silence. Atora's skin began to feel lighter as the tormented flesh was eased. Gwen went over to clean the cloth, replacing the water with cleaner ones.
"I run away once," Atora said suddenly. "Me and my mother had a terrible fight. She said I should just take it, like she does."
"Where did you go?" Gwen asked, her eyes large.
"To the villages. I pretended to be a common girl. For two years."
Gwen's face turned from anger to shock. "Two years?" She demanded, stunned. "All on your own?"
Atora stared out the window. The sky was blue, an odd color for the season. A storm was brewing.
"Not on my own." She paused. Gwen had stopped tending her, and concentrated all her attention on her words. "I… I met someone. A boy."
She glanced at Gwen. The older girl seemed suddenly distant, as if remembering her own love, and her eyes grew moist.
"He didn't know who I was," Atora continued. She'd never said this to anyone. She could never bear to. "He thought I was just some village girl who's sprung out of the blue. I haven't seen him since my father's men discovered me one day. In the woods."
Gwen's eyes were tearful, but Atora could not tell if it was for her or for someone else. "I'm sorry," the servant whispered, sincerely. She met Atora's eyes, and the girl saw fear and pain in the brown orbs. "Was he…"
"He wasn't afraid of who I was, even after he found out," Atora said quickly. "It was… something else, that separated us." Gwen nodded, turning and, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, carried the bowl back to the sink. "I've heard- that is, someone told me he was in Camelot," Gwen paused, and turned around. Atora looked out the window again, at the bustling city. She'd never said that to anyone either. "That's why I came. To look for him."
Gwen followed Atora's gaze, looking into the blue sky. "If you tell me his name, maybe I could-"
The door burst open.
"Atora, get dressed," Her father said, rushing in, in a fury. He glared at Gwen hatefully, though the two never met. "Can't you do anything without shaming me? We need to go to the tournament. Your mother's already there. Arthur Pendragon might be there, and I need you to-" He halted mid sentence as Gwen glowered at him distastefully. "Who are you?" he demanded, stopping his hurried walk in front of her.
"Gwen," The servant said. She looked back at Atora and gave her an encouraging nod. "I was just leaving."
"Good, then leave," The man said, and did not take his gaze off her until she closed the door behind her retreating back. Then he turned to Atora. "Well?"
She stood motionless for a moment longer, and then walked toward the closet, pulling out a particularly ugly dress.
She never told anyone before of the boy who loved her.
Her boy.
Her wizard.
Who updated a week late? Me?
No...!
Sorry. I actually lost track of time. For a week. Aha. Been studying for math and history and grammar and- don't ask.
Anyway... I realize Atora's part must have seemed a tad boring as of late, but I think we're starting to get the point of her. I hope sometimes soon she'll be as interesting as the rest of them...
Not too soon, though.
:-)
What did you think?
