Chapter 14
The late afternoon sun was baking the room when Emerald took a last half-hearted bite of a piece of bread, stood up from the table and moved to the hearth where Raven was lying prone by the fire.
She flicked the Washerwoman a questioning look and the older woman shook her head. Since the spell he'd been like this and they were running out of time.
"Guin and Blankie haven't returned," the Washerwoman whispered, "What should we do?"
"Prepare to go to Mercia," Emerald told her, "We have no choice. I need you and Smithy to pack some food and… we'll have to steal a horse. We won't get Raven out of the city without one."
Emerald was expecting the other woman to baulk at theft. To her surprise she simply nodded and left the room.
She considered Raven for a moment, still as death in the humid room, and allowed herself a moment of invisible panic. Was it the magic that had done this? The spell? Retaliation from whomever had sent the storm?
"How can I fight when I know so little of this world?" she asked him rhetorically, "For all I know we're mere pawns in someone else's plan. How do I even know we're not doing exactly what someone wants us to do right now?"
She slipped her hand in his and stroked it softly. His eyes fluttered open for a moment and she called his name hopefully.
"Raven? Raven, are you awake?"
Then his lids closed and he fell back into unconsciousness.
Gaius made it with one last arthritic step to the top of the hill and stopped for a moment; his breath coming fast and thick as his heart pounded.
"You need more exercise, physician," Morgause said as she bounded effortlessly up beside him.
"What I need is to be forty years younger," he told her waspishly, "and to not be harangued by sorcerers for the crime of natural aging. So if you have a spell for that..."
"I do indeed, old man, but for the change to be anything but an illusion you must sacrifice the life of another. Of course, if you're insistent..."
"You know very well I'm not," he scolded her, "and I'd think you'd be more understanding of an old man's need to have a grumble now and then. With so many of life's pleasures gone, complaining is one of the few truly satisfying ones I have left."
"Of course. My apologies. Now, if your heart attack is over, I was hoping we could proceed."
"After you."
They walked down the other side of the hill and headed toward the Forest of Trelor; the dense neck of woods that bordered both Camelot and Mercia.
"It would be wise for us to avoid the border. We can't risk our own memories being stolen and should we cross into the enspelled region with any trace of magic on us, the pain would be extraordinary. Belatucadros does not want magical beings interfering with his plan."
Gaius nodded and followed her into the trees.
"But if there's a barrier at the border, what would happen if someone from the other side came through? Surely their memories would return?"
Morgause shook her head, "The memory loss is permanent until the spell is broken. Her plan would not work otherwise. Our only hope is to enlist Bayard's aid."
"And you believe that Bayard will listen to reason?"
"Bayard has been conveniently informed that Camelot is preparing to break its treaty and will launch an attack on him soon. His troops are already massed and he will march at daybreak unless we can convince him otherwise."
"And how do you think he will react when he hears our plan?"
Morgause smiled; a rare smile of genuine joy to contrast with her usual wry smirk.
"To be honest, physician, I think he may defy the laws of nature and give birth to kittens."
Gaius turned to her and laughed slightly.
"Well then, I hope I don't die of a heart attack. I want to live to see it."
"My Lady," the Washerwoman said, "I have us a horse. It's waiting for you at the stables. The groom is sympathetic; he won't give us away. I also had a friend from the kitchens load the saddlebag with food."
"Then things are already brighter," Emerad said with a deliberate cheerfulness. "Now we just need to pack some clothing. If you don't mind..."
"Of course," the white-haired woman said and left the room.
"Offlieg," breathed Raven suddenly. Emerald looked down at him tossing on the stone floor.
"Offlieg," he said again, more loudly this time.
"Raven," Emerald said, shaking him to try to force him awake, "Raven, what's wrong?"
"Offlíeg."
His eyes flicked open; deep black orbs. A bright gold ring defined the circle where his iris should have been and his eyes glowed gold in the firelight.
"Ahelle!" he yelled, "Ahelle!"
With a shattering burst, the door to the small house tore off his hinges and guards poured into the room.
Raven woke with a gasp; sitting upright in the hot, close room of the blacksmith's house.
"Raven."
He turned to her as she clasped his hand and put one finger on his lips with a shake of her head. She turned her head to the guards storming into the room and she felt him freeze beside her.
Through the open door, she saw Smithy and the Washerwoman being bound to each other. Raven gasped as they were dragged from the house and into the street.
"Where's the others?" Sash strode into the room and stopped in front of them; joining his subordinate in looking suspiciously around their hiding place.
"There's no one here, Sir," the guard told him, "I've searched the whole house. If Lord Raven and the Lady Emerald were here, they're not here now."
Raven shot Emerald an astonished look and she shrugged her shoulders at his unspoken question.
"Merlin and Morgana," Sash corrected him, "Their names are Merlin and Morgana and neither of them deserves an honorific. They're traitors."
"Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir."
"Take the two prisoners to the cells. I'll take a last look myself and then tell the King the bad news."
The guards moved out and Sash stood for a moment in the centre of the room; a flat look of discontent on his face.
"Incompetent fool," he muttered as he turned and left.
Emerald turned to Raven in astonishment; just in time to see his eyes roll and glaze as he once again surrendered to unconsciousness.
"Snap," she whispered, almost seeing the spell's trap slam down on his mind.
She allowed herself a small allotted time of panic and powerlessness and then picked up his limp body and carried him to the stables. Their only hope now was Mercia and she would make it if she had to drag him the whole way there.
In a dungeon - surprisingly clean but laced with dark patchwork corners filled with skittering, biting things - Blankie put his arm around Guin and she rested her head against his chest.
"You know what's strange," she told him.
He shook his head against her chocolate curls and she smiled.
"There's this strange part of me that just knows this is all going to turn out all right."
Blankie hesitated then kissed her gently.
"Me too. Raven and Emerald will save us."
She smiled and laced her fingers through his.
"It's all going to be all right."
Arthur had time to think. On some instinctive level he knew this was not usually the case. But for this moment, he had solitude and a mind that would not stop churning over the events of the day.
The sun was setting over the path outside his window and he looked at the long golden streams of rose-gold stretching their fingers toward the horizon. The army would march soon and war would be as inevitable as this sunrise. He closed his eyes for a moment and considered everything he knew about his world from the moment he had come into existence a week before.
His lips thinned and he slammed one gloved hand onto the windowsill. Then he grabbed the keys to the cells and moved silently, determinedly, down to the dungeons.
And inside his mind, a part of him he didn't even know existed began to sing.
"Sire," Sash began as he walked hesitantly into the breakfast room in the Solar, "I'm afraid that Merlin and the Lady Morgana have escaped. I'm sorry, Sire, I don't know how they evaded us."
"Magic," Uther whispered, as he stood up from his chair and walked to the fireplace. They'd been lit all over the Kingdom despite the summer heat. People found them comforting in a way they couldn't entirely express and he stared as it now as it flickered companionably in the hearth.
"It doesn't matter," he pronounced finally. "The army marches soon. There's little the traitors can do."
"Sire," Sash marshalled the courage to say, "I would like to apologise for my initial... enthusiasm. Trying to claim the throne when you clearly..."
Uther smiled; tired and small but a smile nonetheless, "It doesn't matter. Besides, I agreed with nearly all your decisions. You're obviously a man of status. Do not blame yourself for the failure to catch a sorcerer. His power is immense. But magic is immaterial beside righteousness. We will prevail. Now, go and join our men. They march soon and I want you by my side."
"Yes Sire. Thank you, Sire. I won't fail you again."
"I know you won't."
The axe blade swung through the brush toward her head and she rolled away from its lethal edge as it hit the packed dirt of the forest floor. She grabbed a blade as she rolled and then propelled herself into a crouch; scanning the clearing for her attacker.
Raven was still where she'd gently laid him; white and stiff on the grass. The fire she'd lit to boil some water was still burning. She thankfully hadn't slept long.
"Show yourself," she called out.
A twig snapped and a branch cracked to her left. She strained her eyes but couldn't see a movement that would indicate a person.
"I mean you no harm," she tried, hoping she wasn't completely wrong about why she had been attacked.
"My friend and I are travelling to the west. If you let us pass, we'll be on our way. We have no interest in anything belonging to you."
Her overture was met with nothing but silence. She took one quick gulp of breath and thought of her flight through the kingdom since she'd dragged Raven from Camelot the night before.
They'd been attacked repeatedly; desperate bands of people looking for food or clothing or just somebody to blame for their plight. Some had banded together into gangs and had begun roaming the countryside attacking anyone who might have something valuable.
Somehow she thought this person was the former rather than the latter. Their attack had been clumsy and she was pretty sure they'd been alone.
"I have some food here," she said, standing up and trying to look relaxed and unthreatening. "Enough to share."
"My name's Emerald. Well, that's just the name a friend gave me. But I like it."
There was a small noise to her right and a leathered man with a dark brown beard and bright eyes stepped out of the trees.
"I like it too," he said. "Please forgive my young friend..."
Emerald looked around; seeing no one.
"...she's a bit shy. She saw you and panicked. Strangers aren't exactly rare these days but they are still a threat."
"And I have a horse and provisions," Emerald added.
The man smiled wryly and acknowledged her point with a short bob of his head, "And you have a horse and provisions. Strangers may not be rare but food is."
Emerald nodded and put her knife into the belt she'd wrapped around her chainshirt and hose.
"Well, tell your friend that if she wants food then she had better make herself known. I'm not sharing a meal with a shadow."
She used a piece of cloth to pull the kettle off the fire and began filling it with meat and vegetables from the horse's packs.
The man watched her for a moment and then whistled into the woods and knelt down to give her a hand.
"Thank you," she said and handed him the peeler for the turnips.
"It's me should be thanking you. Not many people would share their breakfast with someone who tried to behead them."
Emerald smiled suddenly, radiantly, "These are not usual times. Everyone is scared, confused, hungry. It makes people a little bit mad. Trust me, I've seen worse than a scared child."
"I can see that," the man said and gestured to Raven lying prone on the ground. "That's not just a deep sleep, is it?"
Emerald shook her head, trying to stop the morose look she knew had darted across her face.
"Do you have a name?" she asked him as she put the pot of what was now soup back over the flame.
"They call me the Hunter. That's what I was doing the day of... on the first day. What about you?"
Emerald gave him a curious look.
"What were you doing when we... began?"
She smiled again, "I was at a party. In a glorious emerald dress."
She threw the turnips he'd peeled into the pot and leant back on her heels.
"That's the worst about this, isn't it?" he asked her; rhetorically, she suspected.
She shook her head; not getting his meaning.
"It should be liberating, forgetting everything we were. But even in this new world, we're still treated as what we were born."
"You sound like Raven."
"Raven?"
"My friend. He...," she gave him a sideways look and considered whether she should tell him anything. She'd only just met him but judging character quickly was a skill she'd had to finesse recently.
"He discovered he has magic. Maybe magic that can help us. But this spell – the spell that has taken our memories – it's designed to suppress magic. Once he used it, the spell knocked him out. He regained consciousness once, briefly, but then..."
There was a scuffled shuffling of the leaves and a dirty young woman came toward the fire, sat down and grabbed a piece of bread from its wax wrapper.
"This is Waif," Hunter said, "Waif, this is Emerald."
Waif nodded once and then sniffed appreciatively at the soup.
Emerald regarded her for a minute and then took a piece of dried meat from the saddlebags.
"The soup will be nicer but this should tide you over," she said, "I can see how hungry you are."
Waif looked suspiciously at the meat and then grabbed it with one filthy hand and took a large bite.
Hunter looked as though he was going to chastise her for poor manners but then didn't; a fact that told Emerald all she needed to know.
"I have some medicines with me," she said, "if something could be done."
Hunter shook his head and rubbed his crown where she must have been injured.
"Bandits?" Emerald mouthed while the girl's head was down.
He nodded and Emerald cursed Gaius for bringing this upon them.
She let the soup simmer for as long as she dared before taking it off the fire and ladling it out.
"I'm afraid we have to eat quickly. I am less than a day ahead of an army. They move slowly but I still don't have much time."
She expected a million questions at that pronouncement but Hunter simply surveyed her calmly and then nodded.
"Where are you and your magical friend headed?"
"Mercia. A neighbouring kingdom. I hope that once we get there we can stop this war. Assuming they haven't been struck down by the same curse we have."
"I don't know this Mercia. But I have not met a single person since this began who had their memories."
"Well, I have and he will pay for what he has done to us. One way or another."
"Then I will come with you."
"That's... very kind but..."
"You are obviously very capable but if you think your friend can help then he needs to be protected. We can help you. It's the least we can do."
Waif took a messy spoonful of soup, swallowed and nodded vigorously.
Emerald hesitated for a moment and then began packing up the camp.
Galloping quickly on three horses Arthur, Blankie, Guin, the Blacksmith and the Washerwoman sped after their friends.
Behind them, an army of twenty thousand took its first determined step.
And overhead, just audible above the thumping boots, came the joyous, victorious shriek of a crow.