Title: More Than It Seems
Author: Minch
Summary: Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?
Rating: T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.
Spoilers: Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.
Disclaimer: I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of Merlin. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.
Author's note: I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.
Replies to reviews: Lesley- You're not daft. I haven't been completely transparent with Alder's history, but I have written some clues. If you'd like to try your hand at solving the mystery, (and this goes for everyone): reread the story. Look specifically at Merlin's dreams about the lights. That's all of a hint I'm going to give, but I think it's enough!
Today just so happens to be my birthday. And you know what? The best birthday present I could get would be for all of you to tell me what you think of this chapter. Flame it, love it, cry over it–just write something!
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Chapter Eleven: Sacrifice
"Da?" Alder asked again.
Out of options, Merlin did the only thing he could think of: he answered. "I'm here," he said quietly "I came to get you out."
"Not without t' others," Alder said. In spite of his condition, the determination in his voice was genuine.
"No, we won't leave without them."
"Good." He drifted off momentarily.
"What's that?" Percival asked.
"He's delirious," Merlin explained.
"Why did yeh not come sooner?" Merlin hesitated. He rifled through memories of the past few days, looking for some detail Alder had mentioned of his father, anything. "S' alright," Alder sighed before he could come up with an answer. "Yeh're busy. I know. Not too busy to go for a tumble in the woods with a peasant girl, but too busy to come back to see the son that came of that."
"I didn't know," was all Merlin could think to say.
"Yeh gave her a ring, did yeh remember? 'T was the apple of her eye. Gave it to me when I come lookin' for yeh. Remember that?" In the dark, Alder's voice turned from bitter.
Merlin remembered. Alder's father had ordered him to get out. Percival turned to Merlin. It was still too dark to see his expression, but he guessed it was something along the lines of 'what the hell is he talking about?'
"Stonesbury cast me out 'cos of what I was doin' when I blacked out. They'd've killed me if they'd got the chance."
"That doesn't matter," Merlin said. "You're here now, not in Stonesbury. They can't hurt you."
"Is 'here' better? Is life with yeh any better? I just show up outta the blue one day sayin' yeh're my da. Wherever I go, everyone looks at me like I'm a freak. Even yeh. I try my best to please yeh. I learn fletchin' and archery as fast yeh can teach me, but it don' matter." Alder's voice was rising to a dangerously loud level. "To yeh, I'm not yer son. Don' deny it," he snapped when Merlin started to speak. "I heard yeh talkin' with Matthew. Yeh don' want a bastard livin' under yer roof!"
"Alder, Alder," Merlin pleaded. "I'm sorry. That's all I can say. I'm sorry." The boy was silent, so he kept talking. "I can't take back what I said, but I can say that I'm sorry."
"Sorry don' matter," he reproached in a low tone. "Yeh and yers cast me out, Ma and hers cast me out. And if I got no family, then I'm nobody. Right now, all I have are them with me." He was falling back into unconsciousness. "Merlin, Percival, Gwaine, all of them. They care more than you ever did."
Merlin sat back, stunned by the revelation. Percival put a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest," he said quietly. "I'll wake you if anything happens," he added when Merlin began to protest.
"Plenty will happen," a terrifyingly familiar voice rang out. "Forbærne firgenholt. Astyrian na." All around them, fires suddenly sprang to life, illuminating the clearing in an odd orange glow. A spell took hold of the seven men, rendering them motionless. In a haze, Merlin suddenly recognised the clearing. It was where they had set up camp four days ago. The deep fire pit in the centre still held partially burnt branches.
Two horses stood in the trees, mounted by Renault and Rowena. The latter remained passive, coolly observing them. The former on the other hand sneered with a manic shark's grin, his eyes gleaming with revolting elation.
"Why the long faces?" Renault dismounted and walked among them. "Excuse me, good horses." He addressed the horses as if they cared about his choice of words. He carried a length of thick chain over his shoulder like it was nothing, though it must have been extremely heavy. He began to lay down at their feet. "You left in such a hurry. And you didn't even say goodbye." He pouted, then giggled. "We'll just have to take you back and teach you proper manners, won't we?" He stopped next to Percival and Merlin, looking down at Alder. "You decided to drag him along? Even though you know it could cost everyone's chance of escape? Oh, no no no," he interrupted himself. "You had no chance, whether you took him along or not. Rowena, would you start back with the bastard here? I fear he won't survive much longer."
"Yes, sir," the sorceress replied crisply. Her eyes glowed and Alder's limp body was picked up by some invisible force. His skin shone with a sickly glow in the light of the torches. He drifted up the hill and settled on the horse in front of Rowena. She held him upright with one arm and used the other to guide the horse away. Merlin tried with everything in him to stop her but he remained immobile. His magic was just as frozen as the rest of him.
"Now, the rest of you will come behind me. And listen carefully." The blithe tone Renault had been using vanished. "If you try to slow us down or break free, I will kill the bastard." A sphere of fiery light appeared in his hand. "This spell links to Rowena. One word from me and she will dump him from the horse. In his state of health, he would not survive the fall. Now follow." His eyes glowed and the spell holding the men of Camelot was released, only for the chain near their feet to clamp onto the shackles still around their ankles. Not only were they once again bound, but they were bound together. He took hold of one end of each of this chain, mounted the remaining horse and started back.
There was nothing to do but to follow Renault back to the castle. Merlin walked in a daze. They had been so close to escaping, even within the borders of Camelot, only to be recaptured by this horrible monster. He half-listened to Renault's babbling as he led the line of knights, king, and manservant back to his castle. "It was quite amusing, watching your attempt to escape. Oh, yes, I knew all along. I set up most of the circumstances. Who made sure the room you were put in had a window large enough to crawl out of?" He waited, as if he truly wanted to know. "Who weakened the stone so that it was possible to remove the bars simply by twisting them?" Who did not make good on his threat to sever your king's feet if you broke the chains, he hissed in Merlin's mind, even though he knew exactly where you were every second after you left the cell?
"Actually, I was hoping you would break out sooner. I put a bottle of acid under one of the bunks. In a matter of minutes, it would have eaten away at the bars so that you could simply pull them loose. It would have been far more amusing to recapture you within sight of the walls of Camelot, but I suppose you can't have everything."
Renault chattered until they reached the castle. The pre-dawn light illuminated the walls in a cold, pearly light. Five indistinguishable lumps stood on the top of the wall over the gate, impaled on spears. Merlin could not make them out entirely, but he could see that one form was shaped like a head. He heard the flies buzzing around the shapes.
"Ah, you've noticed the example," Renault stated as he led them under the portcullis. "Yes, that was the guard who assaulted the bastard. He's a bit scattered now," he said nonchalantly. Merlin felt like he was going to be sick, as if the stench of the dismembered three-day-old corpse had floated by on the breeze.
Renault dismounted, leaving the horse in the courtyard. "We haven't much time," he muttered, taking the chain and entering the castle's great hall. "We'll have to call him before the bastard goes and spoils it all by dying." No one dared to stop or slow down for fear of Alder's life, wherever he was.
The hall was rather simple. The only adornment was a large stone altar, right in the middle. A stone slab supported by two pillars, it gleamed in the light of the torches that flickered from the walls. "Rowena!" he called. "It's time." He directed them to a place on the back wall, some ten feet from the altar. When he dropped the chain, they immediately sank into the stone floor. The floor re-solidified with the chain firmly welded into the rock.
Renault ducked into an antechamber, only to reappear a second later carrying one end of a litter. Rowena carried the other end. Merlin gasped. Under a black shroud lay Alder. The dark colour of the shroud made him appear so pale that for a heart-stopping moment Merlin thought him to be dead. Only the feeble movement of his chest rising and falling belied this thought. The two sorcerers set the litter down on the altar and removed the poles. Rowena took them and exited out of the side door.
The madman now drew back the shroud. Alder was completely bare, and there was no hiding the injuries he had previous concealed. Ugly contusions on his limbs and body were now turning yellow. A purple fist-sized welt on his torso spoke of cracked, possibly broken, ribs. Worst of all, the distinctive wounds of a heavy mace raged all along his side. Merlin's own mace scars on his shoulder and chest stung at the sight of them.
Renault began chanting. "Gód of scinncræft ac ongytenes, þé eart betræppan in þisne mennisc læfel."He pulled cords from somewhere and tied Alder down to the altar. He yanked the cloth bindings from the boy's hands. "Ic bebéode þé, sundrian fram þín læfel!" Then with a savage swipe, he reopened the cut in his right palm. Alder, who had until then been completely silent, cried out. It was no mere yelp of suppressed misery. His control had long since shattered. As the blood –startlingly scarlet against his pale flesh– welled up and dripped onto the altar, Alder's voice rose in an anguished cry. Gradually, he dropped back to shuddering that nearly broke Merlin's heart. Renault continued chanting, untroubled by the hiccoughing sobs coming from the boy on the altar before him.
"Beón clæne sundrian!" Slowly and enjoying every second, Renault slid the knife across the gash in his left hand. Instead of more blood, a revolting gush of grey and black liquid flowed from the wound and Alder's voice lifted up again. Much worse than before, the sound grew louder and more horrifying. It seemed to Merlin that there were two voices. One was like the scream before, but much more heartrending. The other was like the roar of a tortured animal. Together they melded and combined into one agonized cry of ultimate suffering, as if Renault was tearing Alder limb from limb.
Tears of hopeless fury and anguish flowed unnoticed down Merlin's face. He wanted it all to stop. Just stop.
Renault drew a blade the length of his forearm. His lips were still moving, though the sound of the mantra was drowned out. A bloodcurdling light of ecstasy illumed his eyes. He took the knife in both hands, raised his arms overhead, and plunged the blade into the centre of Alder's thin chest.
Merlin heard several voices cry out "No!" His may have been among them.
All sound in the hall suddenly ceased. The knife was buried in Alder's ribs up to the hilt. His eyes, which had been squeezed shut in pain, flew open. His entire body slumped and his head dropped to the side, facing the group at the back wall. The grey and black fled from his wide eyes. For a second, the green orbs locked with Merlin's. Then the light in them flickered and faded.
Suddenly, Renault struck up the chant once more. "Se mennisc ís lífléas. Árísan nú! Beón under mín ánweald!" As his voice rose into a crescendo, Alder's body burst into flame. The temperature was so intense that Merlin and the others felt the heat wash over them as if from an open oven. Then the blaze abruptly faltered and died.
There was nothing left on the altar, save for a blackened blade with its tip driven into the stone.
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Well then. What do you think? Please, hold nothing back!
Check on 6 October for Chapter 12.
