Name: Taken By The Storm
Chapter: Te
Summary: Three knights. Two enemy princes. One war. The consequences will affect the whole of Albion. "When all is lost, how can you hope?"
An: Phew. Well, I've finally done it. I had a mild panic about three days ago that I hadn't updated in five months, but then I realised it was only two. Cringes. Now I'm going to come out with an excuse that you're all sick of hearing – not from me, this time, but from fanfiction authors around the word – I have exams. And uh, those are slightly more important, but they're over in three weeks so I can get back to writing then.
GCSEs are a pain. And can anyone tell me why I chose Geography?
Also, has anyone else been having the problem of OCs? They keep slipping into my writing somehow... it must be a plague! Someone call the witch doctor!
Just ignore me. Anyway, please read, review – and, more importantly, enjoy!
PS: I have no idea if this is any good. It feels... okay, but not brilliant. I thought I should post anyway. You guys deserve an update after such a long wait.
Gwen's shoes clacked against the stone steps, a tray clutched in her trembling hands and the handkerchief tucked up her sleeve. Her heart was beating wildly inside her chest as if trying to break free and no amount of deep breaths would calm it. Prisoners leant out of their cells as she passed, hands grasping at thin air as they called out to her, pleading with her to let them free.
Never had she ventured so far into the dungeons; she had been Lady Morgana's handmaid ever since she was a little girl with no cause to ever come down here. She wrinkled her nose as a fresh blast of foul air hit her and hitched her skirts up a bit more.
She was almost there – all she had to do was give the handkerchief to Prince Merlin. Then she could go back to her mistress's chambers to calm herself down in peace.
She passed the second guard post with her eyes cast down. It was manned by two knights that she had sometimes seen with her brother. They hardly even noticed her as she swept past but she kept her head down all the same. It would do no good if they recognised her.
She still didn't understand why her mistress had made this request, but she did know that it would never have been asked if it were not important. But why would Morgana be consorting with a prisoner? A sorcerer, an enemy of the kingdom!
But then again, she mused, Morgana had never been one to abide for the rules. And she had certainly never been on Uther's side of the law.
She reached the second guard post where the two knights that sat there were completely lost in thought. At once she recognised them as some of the knights that her brother was often with. She doubted they even noticed her as she turned down the passageway that she knew must lead to the prisoner. Each step she took brought her nearer to a deadly killer and further into the gloom. Her heart started beating harder and faster and struggled to keep the food on the tray as it shook in her hands.
Finally, she emerged into the light and glanced straight to the prisoner. There had been so much gossip among the staff recently that it was hard to know what was fact and what was fiction – even the knights had been heard to swap rumours. Her eyes caught onto the prisoner's face and she gasped. Balinor, she thought – he looks just like Balinor. Of course, the two were related but she hadn't expected to see the resemblance. It was made all the worse when the last time she had seen King Balinor was as he burned to death.
She shivered and set the tray down, her eyes straying down the Prince's body. It was like a punch to the gut; never had she known that any one person was capable of doing this to another.
"For the love of Camelot," she whispered and wondered if there was even a name for some of the injuries this boy had. She knelt on the floor and leant through the bars to brush the Prince's hair out of his face. Like this, he looked so small, so child like that he could still be living under his mother's roof.
His brow was on fire, she soon found. It almost burned her hand. It should be impossible, she thought, to be that hot without an open flame nearby. He had not yet stirred and she withdrew her hand, glancing behind her anxiously to make sure no one was coming.
"Sire," she whispered hesitantly. "Merlin, can your hear me?"
"No," the prince moaned, his eyelids flickering. "Not again..."
"I'm not here to hurt you."
Gwen noticed the flask that was resting in Merlin's limp hand. Curiously, she reached forwards to take it, grimacing at the blood that inevitably coated its surface. The top was inlaid with gold and she recognised it at once as that of Prince Arthur's. She frowned.
What was Arthur doing down here? And why did he give the prisoner some water? Unless it was poisoned…No. Arthur was bad, maybe, but he wouldn't stoop so low as to poison a desperate man. Or at least, she didn't think so.
Casting the thought away, she opened Merlin's mouth and started to trickle water slowly down his throat, looking behind her occasionally to check that she was still alone.
When the flask had been emptied, she was glad to see him more lucid.
"Merlin," she said softly and was pleased to see the foreign prince open his eyes and look at her.
"Who're you?" he asked.
"I'm Gwen. I – I have something for you."
She wiped her hands on the cells bars and drew out the silk handkerchief from her sleeve, holding it out so that the hurriedly drawn symbol hung in clear sight. Blood was soaking into the hem of her dress but she hardly noticed. Instead, she was taking stock of Merlin's reaction.
His eyes widened and his lips parted; he reached out with a trembling hand that tried and failed to grasp the cloth. Gwen pressed it into his hand and drew back at once. He seemed to recognise the symbol and continued to stare. At last, he spoke. The words were so quiet that Gwen almost missed them.
"Who are you? Why would you do this?"
Gwen hesitated. She didn't know what the symbol was, let alone what it meant. "It's not mine," she stuttered. "It belongs to the Lady Morgana."
Merlin's eyes snapped to her so quickly that she wondered if it had hurt him; he certainly winced as it moved his head. "M-Morgana Le Fay?" he whispered.
"Y-yes." Gwen felt fear begin to blossom in her chest. "How do you know her?"
But it seemed that Merlin no longer had the strength to continue speaking; his lips moved soundlessly and he stared at the handkerchief again. Gwen started trembling. Abruptly, she pushed the tray through the bars. She stood up and backed away. What if he were trying to do magic? What if he were casting a spell on her? Was that why she suddenly felt sympathy towards him?
She sent one glance back to the prisoner, hitched her skirts, then turned and ran.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
Arthur hesitated before knocking on the small wooden door with trepidation. When there was no reply, he tentatively pushed the door open anyway and stepped inside.
He had been coming to see Gaius ever since he was a little boy and certainly more times than should have been necessary. Privately, he thought he knew the place better than anyone apart from Gaius. Books adorned the many shelves in the room, large ancient tomes that looked like they should belong in a room of artefacts, not a physician's chambers. Large bottles containing unidentified objects and liquids littered the room while a strange potion bubbled away in a small pot in the corner. The physician himself was sitting at his work table looking through a large book, his wrinkled finger underling the words as he read them.
"Sire," he greeted in surprise as he noticed Arthur.
"Gaius," Arthur replied. He felt like a small boy again, coming to the physician after his father had rejected him; he even had to stop himself from fidgeting.
"Well, what is it m'boy Your injuries are healing well? Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine." Arthur let the word hang for a moment before continuing. "Actually, it's about the prisoner."
Gaius froze. "Prince Merlin, sire?"
"Yes, it's-" Arthur broke off and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to say this," he confessed. "You must promise not to tell my father."
"Sire," Gaius said slowly. "I'm not sure that-"
"Please, Gaius."
It was the plea more than anything that did it; the physician's face softened at once, the eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Very well," he sighed as though sure he was going to regret it.
"It's Prince Merlin. He seems to be…cursing me. With magic."
"That's impossible - I was there when that cell was made." The physician's face twisted in distaste. "There is no way that the occupant, however powerful, could use magic."
"But that's the thing - he doesn't realise that he's doing it!"
"How do you know?"
Arthur hesitated. "I went down to visit him. He just, zoned out, and then I was seeing the visions again-"
"Visions?"
"That's how he's cursing me; I can't sleep at night because I get these nightmares. I - I think they're his memories."
"But that's impossible," Gaius frowned. He turned to his book shelves and started to pull some out. Arthur recognised the signs of beginning research. "Unless..." he trailed off and looked at Arthur with an expression of wonder. "No," he muttered. "It couldn't be."
"Gaius?"
"I'll have to do some research," the physician said. "I'll tell you the moment I-"
Someone knocked on the door and they both turned in surprise.
"Come in," Gaius called and the door opened to reveal Morgana's maid, Gwen. She started when she saw Arthur, but quickly recovered and dropped into a curtsey.
"Gwen, my dear, come in, come in," Gaius ushered. "Arthur was just leaving."
Arthur frowned at him but nodded all the same. "You must let me know immediately," he ordered. He turned and strode from the room, pushing past the servant girl as if she weren't there.
"Oh Gaius," Gwen said as soon as he was out of earshot, closing the door behind him. It was only now that Gaius saw how distressed she looked, her face drained of colour, her eyes round and fearful. He saw the blood staining her sleeves and the trim of her dress.
"Are you hurt?" he cried in alarm, coming forwards, to grasp her shoulders and leading her to a chair.
"No," she said, beginning to weep. "No, it's not me."
"Who is it? Is it one of the servants?"
"No, it's nothing like that." Gwen wiped a sleeve across her face, smearing blood across it. "It's Prince Merlin."
"Oh my dear," Gaius said in horror, stepping back. "You didn't."
"I didn't want to," Gwen snivelled. "It was Morgana, she had one of her nightmares and when she woke up, she asked me to take the handkerchief to the prince, and - oh, Gaius." Here, she broke down into sobs again.
"There, there." Gaius patted her shoulder and drew a vial from the many on the table. "Drink this, it will make you feel better."
"Thank you."
Gwen gulped it down, grimacing at the taste but not complaining. Within seconds, her sobs began to quieten and she started to calm down.
"Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask exactly what happened. Slowly now, there's no rush."
Gwen took a deep breath and nodded.
"Morgana wouldn't tell me what she dreamed about," she said. "But it had something to do with Prince Arthur and Prince Merlin; she was muttering both their names. When she woke up, she was - desperate. She drew out her blue handkerchief and drew a symbol on it, then bade me give it to Prince Merlin. She - she said she wouldn't make me, but she pleaded for me too."
She took a moment to compose herself, then carried on.
"I went down and, Gaius, I've never seen anything like it, not even my father-" she gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth, not quite believing the words that had escaped her mouth. Gaius placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and she carried on. "I'm surprised he's even alive," she whispered. "There's so much blood, and none of his wounds have been bound. He needs help, Gaius, I don't care if he's from Caerleon, or even if he's a sorcerer. It's not right!"
"I know, my dear." Gaius sighed heavily. "I've been trying, but Uther has a stubborn heart. I fear that death will come before he realises..."
Gwen's face crumpled and she cast her eyes down. "I think he tried to use magic on me as well," she whispered. "I was so frightened."
The aged physician placed a full arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to him. "You should take the rest of the day off," he said, concerned.
"No," Gwen said at once. "Morgana needs me. She's been having more and more nightmares recently. I – I'm just being silly." She dragged her sleeve across her face again. "I only meant to come because Morgana's run out of sleeping potion."
"Here." Gaius plucked two more vials from the many and gave them to her, smiling at her gently. "Are you sure you don't need one yourself?"
"No, I'll be fine." Gwen stood up, still snivelling. "Thank you Gaius," she whispered and dashed out of the room.
"You might want to change your dress!" He called after her, but she was gone. He sighed once more and allowed himself to fall into a chair, wincing as his bones creaked. He was getting to old for this – impossible magic, nightmares of the future, distraught servants, stubborn kings, confused princes, and, if he was right, the stirrings of destiny.
He glanced over to the half written letter that sat on his pillow. It needed finishing urgently but his new suspicions made him think that he may need to add to what was already said.
"Merlin, my dear boy," he murmured to himself, "what have you got yourself into now?"
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
"I'm sorry, sire."
Arthur looked up at his oldest knight. "You may go," he dismissed and went back to staring at his desk. Leon bowed and hurried out of the room gladly, leaving Arthur to puzzle over the remaining problem on his own.
The problem was, in one word, Gwaine. Arthur had known when he had taken the young man in as knight, that he would be trouble. Even when he had applied, there had been alcohol on his breath and in his hip flask. Even then, he hadn't shown much respect for his betters. But they had needed the numbers; this was war and they needed every ally they could get.
But treason?
That was another matter entirely and one that couldn't be dealt with lightly. If his father ever got wind of this... Arthur groaned and rested his head in his hands. There was no other option really than to either report him to Uther, or deal with it himself. Permanently.
There was a knock on the door and Arthur's manservant strode forwards and opened the doors impressively, before Arthur could even get the words out.
It was Gwaine.
He strode into the room and stood before Arthur's desk, looking more sober than the prince had ever seen him. His legs were slightly apart, his hands clasped behind his back and for once he looked formal.
"Gwaine, I'm busy."
"You're staring at a blank piece of paper," Gwaine pointed out. Arthur looked down at his desk. He was right.
"What is it, then?"
"My resignation."
The words rang around the room for a moment before Arthur could comprehend them. "You're – resigning?"
"Or whatever it is you call it when a knight stops being a knight. Voluntarily. I don't know, has anyone ever done that before?"
"I- not that I can remember."
"Anyway, that's not the point. Sir Leon's already visited you?"
Arthur nodded, face grave.
"Then you know why I'm here. If I resign now – or whatever you want to call it – then you don't have to take action. Your father doesn't need to know and I can leave the kingdom and never look back."
"But I can't let you do that!" Arthur laughed at the thought. "What if you go to Caerleon? You've lived here long enough to tell them how best to attack us, how best-"
"I won't," Gwaine promised. "I give my word that I will never sell the secrets of this kingdom or give them away willingly."
"How can I trust you? You swore to uphold the Knight's Code and still you-"
"One law of the code," Gwaine said with eyes full of fire, "is to never commit treason. Another is to protect the innocent and help the people. I think one outweighs the other, don't you?"
"Gwaine!"
But Gwaine cut him off once more, placing his hands on the desk as he leant closer to Arthur. "When I joined the knights of Camelot," he said, "I thought I'd be doing good. I thought I'd be helping the people in hard times. I thought I could help." He leant back. "But you know what? I've only made things worse. Whatever this is, it isn't helping anyone. Least of all the people."
Arthur couldn't help but remember the argument on the training field the other day. 'Are freeing them from the imprisonment of life?' He wasn't to place his head in his hands and give up. He didn't want to feel the pain, this uncertainty or this doubt any more. But instead, he looked Gwaine in the eye.
"I'm going to do something my father would disapprove of. I'm going to banish you," he said. "If I, or any of the knights, ever see you in Camelot again, we will kill you on sight." He glanced away. "Despite everything, you're an honourable man, Gwaine, and I don't want to see you die."
Gwaine nodded. The normal punishment for treason was death but if he was surprised by the turn of events, he didn't look it. Then again, Arthur thought, he was a live in the moment kind of guy.
"You'll never see me again," the former knight promised with a quick smile.
"I don't doubt it."
There was an awkward moment then, as neither quite knew how to say goodbye for what would surely be the last time. Arthur raised a hand and Gwaine grasped his forearm reluctantly. They shook firmly. Then Gwaine turned on his heel and strode to the door. There, he hesitated.
"You could be an honourable man, too," he said. "But only when you learn to think for yourself."
The door closed with a thud behind him, leaving Arthur just as confused as when he'd arrived.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
Gwaine stopped only twice as he left Camelot; once to pick up a pack and another at the city gates to change a friend's mind.
"Oi, Lancelot," he called. The dark haired knight glanced over and came to meet him, swapping a few words with another knight at the gate first.
"You've done it then?"
"Yeah." Gwaine smiled and shook his hair out of his face. "Planning on coming with me?"
"I'm sorry, Gwaine," Lancelot said. "You know I can't. I've always wanted to be a knight of Camelot, and now I am, I feel as if I can do some good."
"You're blinded, mate." Gwaine clapped his friend on the shoulder, another smile not quite hiding the hurt look in his eyes. "Well, when you change your mind, you know where to find me."
"I do?"
"I'll give you a clue; they'll sell ale."
Lancelot nodded, his lips quirked in amusement. "Got it – follow the taverns and I'll follow you."
"Ah, that sounds about right."
"You know you can't keep living like that."
"No, but it's fun trying." Gwaine hefted his pack on his shoulder. "Well, better go. Places to go, ale to drink, women to meet. I think I'll head over to Escetia, lie low for a while."
"And from there?"
"Who knows?" Gwaine licked his finger and held it up to the air. "Maybe... west. I don't know. I'll see which way the wind's blowing when I get there."
Lancelot smiled. "Farewell, my friend. It's been good knowing you."
"And you."
They gripped hands. Gwaine walked through the gates struggling with feelings of sorrow and freedom. Lancelot had been the first person to be a friend to him. Yet with every step he took, he was going further away.
"It's a shame," the knight called after him. "I could have taught you to play chess properly."
"Never," Gwaine called back. "You'd have been doomed to failure."
He heard Lancelot chuckle and forced himself to carry on walking. This was no different than walking away from his old life, one among lords and nobles, he told himself. He'd had no regrets then and he should have none now. A small voice in his head battled that the knights were the first friends he'd ever had but ignored it. To distract himself, he sang to himself; an old travelling song he'd learnt at his father's feet. It had always captured his attention when he was younger and he allowed it to do so now, hardly paying attention to where he was going as he dreamed of distant lands and fairytale creatures.
O where go you on the road tonight?
O where go you in the failing light?
Hush, hush; hear the call
Of a elfish song and a dragon's roar.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
At exactly the same time Gaius was sliding a piece of parchment into a plain envelope, looking around furtively. He placed it on his table, took a deep breath and held his palm out.
"Sendan hire, hlæfdige-" he cut off as the door to his chambers opened abruptly and he wheeled around, certain that he about to be arrested as a sorcerer. He should have known that he couldn't risk it, should have- but it seemed that this day was destined to be full of surprises. Instead of a guard or even a knight, Uther Pendragon stood in the doorway.
"Sire!" Gaius mumbled, bowing hastily.
"Ah, Gaius." Uther strode in and stood by the small staircase. He was dressed in mail and the physician eyes it warily. "It's about the prisoner, Balinor's son," the King continued. "What you said the other day about Arthur got me thinking. He needs time to recover, yes?"
Gaius nodded, unsure as to where this was going.
"I have decided that we shall go straight to Caerleon itself. The city will be ripe for the plucking. Their prince and king are dead, their people are in confusion and our spies have reported some minor rebellions on the borders."
"But you wanted Arthur to recover," Gaius said, struggling to contain his eyebrow.
"It will take at least a week to get there with a large army. Arthur will have more than enough time to recover under your treatment." Here, Uther fixed a stern gaze upon Gaius as if daring him to say otherwise.
"And what has Prince Merlin got to do with this?" asked Gaius.
"Bait." Uther smiled grimly. "A bargaining tool."
"S-sire?"
But the King wasn't listening. "We leave in three days time," he stated. "I trust you will make all the necessary arrangements for our prisoner." He left in a swirl of his cloak and a slam of the door. Gaius stared after him for a moment more, unable to control his eyebrow which had raised to new heights. Then, he turned back to the table where the letter still lay.
"Well, this changes things," he muttered and set to work adding a post script to alert his sister of the new situation. When he finished, he looked around once more, held his palm out and whispered, "Sendan hire, hlæfdige Hunith folcisc."
The letter vanished and he sighed in relief.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
Bedivere was sitting in far corner of the Rising Sun tavern and he also happened to be very thoroughly drunk. He'd been trying to drink his sorrows away, he explained to the first person who would listen, a sympathetic dark skinned stranger who smelled of the sea.
"I'm a knight of Camelot, you know," he declared loudly and spilled some mead onto the table. "I fought in the Battle for Caerleon! And I'm going to fight again!"
The stranger nodded and if it was a bit forced, nobody noticed. "You must be proud," said he. "Not many people get the chance to fight for their country."
"No," Bedivere shook his head. "But Arthur is – is a great man!" The effect was slightly ruined as he almost toppled of the chair. He frowned suddenly. "His father isn't."
Maybe he was too drunk to realise what he was saying or maybe he was too drunk to care but had Bedivere been in his right senses he would have kept his mouth shut. As it was, he ploughed on and didn't even notice how the stranger leant forward with a new sense of purpose.
"Really? Why's that?"
"He -" Bedivere stumbled through his words as he tried to string a sentence together. "He t-tortures the Prince."
"Prince Arthur?" the stranger asked with raised eyebrows.
"Don't be silly! Merlin. The f-for fore- f-forer-" Bedivere went cross eyed as he tried to remember the word he was looking for. "The one from Caerleon."
The strange bowed his head but the young knight was too caught up waving his mead about to notice.
"S'all right though because he's an – an en-em-y to the c-crown." Bedivere frowned again as if his inability to pronounce a three syllable word troubled him. "He's a good man too," he said suddenly. This new topic seemed to have sobered him up. "When they – they killed that girl, he was upset. I'd be upset if I loved her too. But he can't be a monster if-" Bedivere concentrated hard to bring the sentence together, "if he loved her? Can he?"
The stranger shook his head a dark look on his face. "What did this girl look like?" he asked slowly.
"Oh, she was quite pretty," Bedivere mumbled. "She spoke to me and she was nice."
"But what did she look like?"
"She had – had long dark hair and dark eyes. She scared me. Shewas a monster – that's why we had to kill her."
"And Prince Merlin?" the stranger swallowed.
"He screams a lot," Bedivere confessed. "S'why I'm here. To forget. It – it gets in your head and it won't go away." He slumped onto the table and took another long drink from his flagon. "I hear it all the time. And then I remember the battle. I killed people. D'you know how that feels? We're leaving again soon, s'well. I'm going to have to do it – again."
The stranger stood up abruptly. "You should probably go home," he said.
"Where?" Bedivere asked stupidly.
"Home," the stranger sighed. "To your sweetheart if you don't want to go there."
"My sweetheart?" Bedivere remembered his lover, he face sliding into his mind with a small smile. "Eibhlynn," he cried and stood up, too. "I'm going to marry her!"
"You are?" asked the stranger sounding amused now. He gently guided the young knight out of the tavern into the dark and cool night.
Bedivere hesitated. "Oh," he said, slightly disappointed. "I haven't asked her. I think will now!"
"I don't think you should do that," the stranger said. "I'd be willing to bet that if you turned up at her door now, you'd be more likely to get a frying pan around the head than a fiancée."
"Oh," sighed Bedivere and changed direction towards the castle. The stranger hesitated then tapped on a passerby's shoulder.
"Here my friend," he said palming him a few coins, "if you could take my friend Sir Knight here to the castle, it would please me greatly."
The man glanced at the coins and over to the clearly drunk knight who was weaving his way across the road. "No tricks?"
The stranger splayed his hands. "No tricks."
"All right then." The man nodded, took the coins and took off after the knight, clearly gleeful at the easy money.
The stranger smiled. "My thanks," he called after the man and gave a small bow. That man would probably turn the next corner, abandon the knight and take off with the with the money. Hey, the stranger thought, it's the thought that counts. He then hurried around the corner, glad to have finally gotten rid of the troublesome knight.
It was dark in this new alley and he made sure he was completely cast in shadow before he started to mutter a small incantation, focusing on the exact place where he wished to go. He turned on the spot and with a small pop, he disappeared.
There was no trace that he had been there and nobody was any the wiser about the strange man who lived in a local inn with no apparent home of his own. After all, he was just a normal tavern goer that had a very normal life.
He was also very good at his job.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
The stranger's name was in fact Rilden and he was in full time employment by the king as a spy. He and three others had been based at strategic points in both Escetia and Camelot for the last six months, scavenging for any information they could find like mice looking for food. Already he had worked his way around the lower town, the upper castle and had even stayed in the castle for a few weeks, providing valuable information for Caerleon. However, he'd not found it to his taste and had quickly returned to a local inn for the rest of his stay in Camelot.
He reappeared with another small pop in the middle of the throne room of Caerleon Castle. King William broke away from what sounded like a hurried discussion with Lady Hunith. Rilden caught a glimpse of a letter before it was whisked out of sight.
"Sire," he bowed, "Lady Hunith."
The lady still showed her grief in a plain black dress and in the way her hair was tied back from her face with some black cloth. The King however only wore a simple black armband. This was only because of court etiquette, Rilden knew. King's weren't allowed to show their grief so openly.
"What is it?" the King asked, striding forwards urgently.
Rilden hesitated.
"Tell me!" the King shouted, his fists clenched by his sides. Lady Hunith placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Camelot's army is on the move again. They set off in just a few days time. And – Prince Merlin is still being tortured," Rilden shared reluctantly. "The knight I spoke to, he said he screams a lot. He also said... there was a girl with him."
The King looked at him sharply. "A girl?"
"She had dark hair and dark eyes, apparently. The knight said she was actually quite nice but-" Rilden swallowed. "He said she was a monster."
King William froze. He closed his eyes. "Freya."
Nobody spoke. Abruptly, the King wheeled around and punched a pillar.
"Damn!" he cried. "Is she all right? Is she alive?"
Rilden glanced away. "They killed her," he said finally. "She transformed and they killed her."
Hunith gasped, a hand to her mouth as she stumbled back. The King glared furiously at Rilden who cowered under his rage.
"I'm sorry, sire," he said.
"Go!" the King roared. "Out!"
Rilden didn't hesitate. He fled from the room as fast as his legs would carry him.
Taken By The Storm :: Taken By The Storm
The silence after the spy left was huge. It washed over the room and seemed to envelop it utterly and completely. Hunith brought the hand from her mouth and smoothed her dress down nervously. She didn't want to believe it but she knew Rilden would not lie.
"Will," she said softly. She took a few hesitant steps towards the King. "Will, are you listening to me?"
"Why is this happening?" Will whispered hoarsely. "How is it happening?"
Hunith knelt next to him and placed a gentle arm around his shoulders. He leant into the contact and only now she feel his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "So, so sorry."
"She was my friend. Me, Merlin and Freya. We were always together, you know?"
Hunith did know. Her son and his friends had been a great source of trouble in the castle for many years. Unlikely companions for a prince, as many people had pointed out to her; a farm boy and a cursed druid girl, yet they were much more his friends than anyone among the court. Freya had also been much more than Merlin's friend... yet that now looked as if it were not to be.
"Look at us now," Will mumbled. "Freya's dead, Merlin's dying and I'm the king of a kingdom that's falling to ruins!"
"That's not true-"
"You know damn well it's true!" Will shouted, turning to face her. "Escetia raids the outlying villages daily, the people are rebelling – even the dragons are restless! Only Merlin could control them anyway," he muttered.
"And Balinor," Hunith said.
"Balinor is dead!"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Will regretted them. Hunith looked as if she had been slapped and her eyes brimmed with tears.
He opened his mouth to apologize. "I'm-"
Hunith slapped him. Hard.
"-sorry," he gasped, clutching his cheek. "What was that for?"
"That," Hunith declared, her voice shaking, "was for insulting my husband and betraying my son! Merlin left you in charge because he thought it was best for the kingdom. I doubt he imagined you falling apart at the faintest sign of trouble."
"I just – didn't think it would be like this." Will stared at the empty stone throne. Since he had been crowned, he had refused to sit in it and had placed a more simple wooden chair beside it.
"What else would it be like?" Hunith asked. "The only reason Merlin would not be on that throne right now was because he was – gone. Did you think he would simply slip away in his sleep?"
"Of course not!"
"Then what are you doing?" Hunith pulled out the letter she had hidden once Rilden appeared. "We have a spy in Camelot who is trusted by Uther himself! There is no reason to be- moping around in our grief when an army marches towards Caerleon at any moment." She dropped her voice. "Will, if you play this right, there will be no possible way that we can lose this war."
"We lost the battle and supposedly that wasn't possible either."
Her voice was shaking, she noticed. "We don't know what happened in that battle and perhaps we never will. But we can make sure it doesn't happen again. This war has cost me my son and my husband's lives. We are not going down without a fight."
Will didn't speak. He picked himself off the floor and took off the crown that was on his head. He placed the simple gold band onto the empty throne.
"I don't deserve it," he stated to Hunith. "Now tell me, how can we trust this Gaius?"
Hunith raised her head. "He's my brother and Merlin's uncle. He even practised magic himself, in the past. We can trust him."
They met each other's eyes. "We'll make preparations," Will said. "If Camelot really does intend to march straight to our door, then they're going to get a fight they hadn't bargained for."
"Good." Hunith smiled weakly. "For Caerleon."
"No," Will said quietly, glancing at the throne. "For Merlin. And God help any Pendragon that crosses my path because if they ever do, I will not be responsible for my actions."
And with that promise, so began preparations for the battle that would decide the fate of not only Camelot and Caerleon, but the whole of Albion.
Oh, and the spell translates (from Old English) into: send to her, Lady Hunith of the people.
Finally, I'm sorry I haven't replied to last chapter's reviews - I simply don't have enough time as I'm sure anyone who has ever studied for GCSEs understands. Next chapter, I'll make sure I do.