A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. It's been a ROUGH week studying for that lit test and I still think it PWN'D me… but maybe not. We shall have to see. Anyway, I'm sure you guys aren't interested in my boring RL, so let's get down to business. This is defintely a darker and more serious chapter, but it's leading to some really juicy stuff coming up so hopefully you'll enjoy it. It's not going to be too dark though, because this is a lighter fic. But even light has to have some dark to balance it out, eh? :D Anyway - Thank you ALL so much for your reviews and please continue to do so! Enjoy! :)
As Luck Would Have It
Chapter Eleven
The magic that Merlin sent out was supposed to have sent the men around him flying away from him. Instead, his terrible misfortune had interfered with his powers and caused just the opposite to happen. As his eyes melted back to blue from gold, he barely had time to utter, "Oh no," before six bandits came flying out of the bushes through the air, via his magic, and zipped crazily toward the terrified servant. He felt the pressure of the sword leave his neck as he somehow managed not to get decapitated by it, but the relief of the sword being gone was very short lived as all six bandits – along with their leader – crashed into him, sending him face-first into the dirt and landing in a heap of muscles on top of him.
While the seven bandits groaned and mumbled and tried to find their senses again, Merlin was simply trying to breathe. No coherent thoughts sprang to his mind, nothing but pain and the crushing weight on top of him. He tried to move but he was still buried. He tried to suck in another breath, but none came. His whole body – but especially his chest and abdomen – hurt fiercely and his head swam. There was an enticing blackness hovering just out of his line of sight and he yearned for its respite but resisted, still trying to breathe.
After what seemed like ages, the weight was lifted off of him but he didn't move. He took in one deep breath and grunted in pain as it hurt his chest. He realized that he might have bruised his ribs – or worse. Trying not to think of the grim prospect, Merlin simply focused on taking in short, shallow breaths and staying conscious. He could still feel a weight on his back, but this time it wasn't physical, but the weight of seven pairs of eyes on him. The thought made his skin craw and he realized that he was more or less helpless – his magic had only served to cause him more pain and he had no reason to believe that it would actually work right if he tried to use it again.
Finally he was able to breathe a little better and he slowly, painfully, forced himself to roll over onto his back, his chest smarting at the movement. When he had succeeded he flopped his head back onto the ground, exhausted. He heard a low chuckle and opened his eyes to see seven of the most ridiculously muscular men he'd ever laid eyes on – it was like being surrounded by a slew of Arthurs, as scary as that prospect was. Still… as he looked around and saw the malice in their eyes, Merlin wondered if might prefer a clan of angry Arthurs to this. He'd take just about anything else right now.
The man who Merlin recognized as the leader by his voice – the same voice that had hissed sinisterly in his ear after pricking him in the neck with a sword – chortled. He was a tall man – at least a good three inches above Merlin, and Merlin was not a short man by any means. His face was round but his features angular. His nose was lumpy as if it had been broken many times. His skull cap gleamed, hairless, in the light filtering through the green of the trees and two beady, cruel gray eyes glared at him from slightly sunken sockets. "Well, well, well… seems we've found us a lit'l sorc'rer." Merlin's eyes narrowed as he let his eyes wander around the circle of men. Every one of them had unsheathed deadly weapons and were glowering at him fiercely.
"Not a very good one, though, eh Ash?" the man to the leader's immediate left giggled.
"I'd say not," Ash responded coldly as Merlin struggled to sit up. He stared at his prize for several moments before coming to a decision. "But I'd reckon Jarl will still be pleased t' have caught one with magic anyways."
"Even with magic, I don't see why anyone would want to buy that scrawny brat," another bandit snorted. Merlin's eyes flashed fire and he stumbled to his feet.
"I'm warning you," he announced with much more confidence and bravado than he felt. "Back off, or I'll unleash my full power on you!"
The leader, Ash, erupted into a fit of laughing. "What'cha gonna do, lit'l sorc'rer? Make me stab you with my sword?"
Merlin's face flushed at the taunt but he remained silent, knowing that if he were to try and use his magic again in his current state, that could very well happen.
Ash had apparently had enough fun and smiled wickedly. "Well, lads, Jarl'll be pleased with the catch o'the day, so let's bring him in, eh?"
Merlin stood his ground and tried to ignore his heart beating frantically behind his injured rib cage as the men started to move in closer. "Take him!" Ash's voice rang out and then he was swamped by the bandits, hands grabbing his clothes, something being forced in his mouth and over his head, something coarse wrapped around his wrists and tightening. He tried to control the nausea swelling in him at the pain and helplessness and he could only hope that someone had noticed his absence by now or that Gwen had broken her promise not to tell even though he had only been gone for about an hour.
"Guinevere!" Gwen turned on her heel, nearly dropping her armload of linens in the process as the very irritated voice rang through the hallway. Gwen closed her eyes briefly, knowing that Arthur's anger wasn't directed at her but feeling bad for whoever it was intended for – and Gwen had a pretty good idea of who the recipient was. Her suspicions were confirmed when she turned to meet the prince's gaze and he demanded, "Have you seen Merlin?"
Gwen blinked innocently. "He's still gone?" She felt a slight tickle in her stomach at the news that Merlin still wasn't back. He'd been gone on his "herb hunt" for nearly four hours now. She had assumed that whatever it was he had to do, he would have done it by now and gotten back to Arthur. Guilt began to gnaw at her as she realized that maybe she should have gone to Arthur as soon as she had learned that Merlin was up to something. Still, he had insisted that this was important and she hadn't wanted to betray his trust.
Arthur's eyes narrowed to slits. "What do you mean, still gone?" he asked suspiciously. "You knew he was missing?"
At the word "missing" Gwen's heart leapt slightly. "No, he's not – missing I mean," Gwen stammered. "I-I'm sorry, my lord, I should have gone to you as soon as I spoke with him, but he insisted he had to go do something and asked me to cover for him. I told him I wouldn't go telling anyone intentionally that he was gone somewhere, but if anyone asked, I'd tell them the truth."
Arthur let out a small explosion of breath. "And what is the truth?"
Biting her lip anxiously, Gwen spouted out, "He claimed to have been going into the forest to look for herbs for Gaius but I don't believe him in the slightest. He does tend to go off by himself sometimes, though, so I thought that it was nothing to be concerned about… Arthur?"
Arthur's face had gotten paler and he gave a huff of exasperation. "It's okay, Gwen. Merlin's sneakier than he looks." Rolling his eyes, he griped, "I know exactly where that idiot is, too."
Gwen's eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. "You do? Then why ask me where he is, sire?"
Arthur found himself smiling at her wit. It almost made him think of something Merlin would say, except it sounded so much less disrespectful coming from Gwen's lips. Apparently Gwen was inclined to disagree, for her eyes dropped to the floor and she mumbled, "I'm sorry. That wasn't very polite, was it?"
Arthur put a strong hand on her arm and her eyes darted to it before landing on his face. "It was a perfectly valid question," he said before continuing wearily, "Merlin seems to think that he's been cursed with bad luck. This morning we had a bit of a falling out – but it definitely wasn't my fault, Merlin's far too sensitive for his own good – when he tried to convince me that the woman we met in the forest that 'cursed' him was some sort of tree spirit." He snorted with laughter at the thought before becoming serious once more. "I'm almost positive Merlin went out looking for the woman."
Gwen's eyes widened, "But if she really does have magic, Merlin could be in real danger! In fact, he still could be, with that ankle of his."
Arthur growled. "That bloody imbecile will be the death of me." Smiling reassuringly at the serving girl in front of him, the prince added, "Don't worry about Merlin, Guinevere. I'll ride out immediately and find him. I know where he's at, remember – and besides, she doesn't have magic. He's fine."
Gwen could hear the doubt in his voice at his own words and frowned. "You think that Merlin might actually be cursed." It wasn't a question, but Arthur answered regardless.
"Of course not," he scoffed. Then he sighed. "Maybe… I don't know. I will admit, his fortune's been even more rotten than usual lately, but that doesn't mean anything. He's probably convinced himself that he's got bad luck and is causing all of this to happen subconsciously…" He trailed off.
"Or he really was cursed and he could be in even more danger out there alone," Gwen supplied softly, her deep brown eyes belaying the worry she was feeling for her best friend.
Arthur nodded once, his confliction showing in his eyes. "I'll find him and then he'll get the lecture of a lifetime about going off into the forest without telling anyone, especially whist injured." He curled his lips up in what was supposed to be a comforting smile but neither one of them fell for it. Without another word, Arthur had turned on his heel and swept down the hall with the intent of getting a horse and riding out to find Merlin – the sooner the better. Despite all the times he complained about Merlin being obnoxious and a lousy servant and a world-class idiot, Arthur would feel a hundred times better once Merlin was returned to Camelot, safe and sound.
Arthur had opted only to take two other knights with him. His father had been a bit exasperated at Arthur's determination to ride off into the Darkling Woods to find his missing servant but he wasn't completely heartless. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he told Arthur that he and a few knights had until nightfall to locate the boy and that he was to stay away from the borders of Cenred's kingdom as there would be almost certain conflict at the prince of Camelot crossing into Esticia, especially with the treaty as fragile as it was.
Arthur had agreed, still a bit surprised at his father's generosity but willing to go with it all the same. Ever since his talk with Guinevere he hadn't been able to shake the worry that Merlin was in serious trouble. He tried to brush it away, telling himself that he shouldn't even be worried about a servant at all, but in all honesty he was really starting to get a bit weary of that snotty little voice at the back of his mind. The fact was he was concerned about Merlin and he wouldn't be able to do anything to help him if he was constantly second guessing himself and trying to make himself believe that Merlin wasn't worth worrying about. Because maybe – just maybe, he mused with a slight smile on his face as he rode quickly through the woods with Sirs Leon and Owen on either side and slightly behind – the idiot was worth it, after all.
They rode silently at a steady pace until they were close to the house that Arthur was convinced Merlin had gone to. He hoped that the lady really was harmless and not some sort of ancient, powerful being like Merlin had seemed to think. He had convinced himself that that was the only way that Merlin would be in real danger – after all, bandits rarely came through the Darkling Woods this close to Camelot because they knew they'd be no match for a patrol of Camelot's knights.
He motioned for Leon and Owen to dismount and tie make sure their horses were tied off and they did so instantly. Arthur half-smirked, remembering Merlin's pathetic attempts to read hand signals. When he indicated for them to circle around and help close in the area as best as they could, the two knights obeyed without hesitation.
When the clearing and house came into view, Arthur felt his heart leap into his throat and his confidence that the little old lady that was so frail even Merlin could (probably) take her was the only threat began to fade away at the sight that greeted him. The ground in front of the house was trampled and indented with shapes that could have been made by a person pressing into the dirt – maybe even more than that. The bushes around the area were cracked and leaves and twigs were everywhere. The marks were several hours old at least, but they were still discernable. There had most certainly been a scuffle. His well-trained eyes scanned the ground and made out at least six, maybe even seven, large pairs of footprints and one smaller, slender pair. He was barely able to see them after the time they'd been there, but he had a keen eye. His heart sunk as he realized what this meant.
He caught movement and a flash of red out of the corner of his eye and he knew that Leon and Owen were still circling. Heaving a great sigh of frustration, Arthur turned and nearly let out a yell of surprise as he saw the little old woman from several weeks ago peering at him from a well-weathered face, her violet eyes unnerving. "Arthur Pendragon," she wheezed. "Looking for your servant, I presume?"
Eyes darting around to make sure Leon and Owen weren't about to burst in, Arthur walked forward several steps until he was almost within touching distance of the strange lady. He didn't know why, but he had a feeling that she only wanted to speak to him, not to his knights. He was afraid that she would leave if she saw the others and he didn't want her to – she might be the only one that knew anything about Merlin.
"Do you know where he is?" the prince asked in a forced calm voice.
"Mmm." She paused and leaned in closer. Arthur fought the urge to lean away. Something about this seemingly harmless old bird was distinctly unnerving. He began to seriously wonder if Merlin hadn't been right in his assumptions about her – that she had magic, of course, not the ridiculous notion that she was some kind of tree spirit. Arthur adamantly refused to believe that last bit. That was just a bit too far-fetched. She spoke again, her voice both mourning and elated. "A small band of slavers dragged him away nearly two hours ago."
Arthur literally saw red but he forced himself to remain calm for Merlin's sake. Teeth gritted and hands clenched together at his sides, he managed to hiss, "You just watched this happen and didn't lift a finger to help him? You let him be taken by slavers?" He fought the urge to be sick. The idea of Merlin – clumsy, idiotic, friendly, and yes, cursed Merlin – being sold into slavery made his stomach turn and his blood boil. Almost as an afterthought he murmured, "What were bandits doing so close to Camelot? They wouldn't dare come here."
"Fortune is not smiling upon your servant these days, is it, Prince Arthur?"
"So you did curse him with bad luck. You caused this to happen?" He fought the urge to take a great leap at the hag that had caused Merlin so much trouble.
Her wrinkled face scrunched into a scowl. "I did nothing – when he broke the charm and released its magic, the spirit of the earth contained within it sought its revenge."
"He didn't mean to break it," Arthur almost pleaded. "And he came out here to find you – why didn't you help him?"
There was a rustle of branches nearby and he knew his knights would be here any second. The woman's eyes flickered to the trees around them before answering, "The only way that Merlin can break the curse is to prove himself worthy of having it broken. Only if someone other than himself comes to plead on his behalf will the magic even take into consideration that he might be worthy of being given the chance to attempt to have the curse lifted." It made no sense to Arthur and he was about to say so when the crack of a twig announced Leon and Owen entering the clearing. He turned to face them as they studied the disturbed ground before them with grim faces. Desperately, the prince turned back to the woman only to find her gone.
Eyes burning, Arthur snapped in the knights' general direction, "Merlin's been taken by bandits. Slavers." His voice was tight and clipped.
"Sire," Leon muttered. "Are you certain?"
"It could have been a many number of things," Sir Owen added.
"But if it is the case," Leon cut in, "might it not be wise to request a larger band of knights to track down the bandits?"
Arthur shook his head. "We have no time. Merlin doesn't have time – from the looks of things, they took him a few hours ago. We need to move while the trail is still relatively fresh. Leon, come with me. Owen, check the horses, make sure they are secure and comfortable, and then catch up to us – quickly. We'll go on foot so they won't hear us. Let's move."
Nearly an hour passed and the three men were following the trail at a steady pace. Arthur's eyes went wide as he heard a small sound, a little off the trail. Heart pounding, sure that a bandit was going to pop up at any moment, Arthur motioned for Leon and Owen to stay where they were and remain alert. He kept his eyes locked on the path ahead but unfortunately not right under his feet.
He let out a startled gasp as his foot collided with something solid and he was pitched face first into the soil, jarring his ribs as he did so. The two knights hurried forward to help him up but only Owen actually reached him. Leon stayed a few feet away, eyes locked on something on the ground. Slowly Arthur let his eyes drift to what he had tripped over and gasped even as it made a feeble attempt to move. Eyes wide and anger filling him to the brim, Arthur's vision was heated as he took in the sight of a bruised, battered man with torn clothes, a bag over his head, no shoes on his feet, and arms tied firmly behind his back. The form sprawled on the ground tried to move and let out a little whimper that was muffled by the bag and probably something jammed in his mouth as well. Falling to his knees beside the victim, Arthur could barely believe his eyes. When he spoke, he barely recognized his own voice amidst the fear and anger.
"Merlin!"
A/N: *ducks a barrage of fruits and veggies being thrown at me for the cliffie* Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry! I know, I'm terrible… I make you wait over a week and then I leave you with THAT doozey of a cliffhanger… But the good news is, you should be getting the next update at its regular time, so that means less than a week – Wednesday! Yay!
As far as the mentions of Jarl, who Ash and his cronies work for, I figure that even though we didn't know about them in S2 didn't mean they didn't exist. :P
Anyway, what's going on? What happened with Merlin and his new 'friends'? Why is he all alone? Where are the slavers now? And what will Arthur's reaction be? And does he finally believe that Merlin is one cursed dude? Well, keep a lookout for updates and you'll find out! Also, please review! :) See you on Wednesday!
~Emachinescat ^..^
