The band of magic wielders stopped for the night near an outcropping of rock that would protect them from a particularly blustery night and set up camp around a central fire. Merlin insisted on cooking for them, claiming he wouldn't let all those years of feeding the knights of Camelot go to waste. Those who had hesitated to eat what he provided soon changed their tune, admitting what he cooked was quite good.
They chatted for a time, but little by little, each found his pallet and settled to sleep for the night. Carwyn had taken first watch. He sat on the edge of the camp, staring between the dark and his soldiers, his cloak pulled tight, his hood raised. Merlin couldn't sleep, concerns about what might come when they found the raiders too heavy on his mind. He soon rose and wandered to the prince, sinking down next to him huddled in his own cloak.
"Are you alright?" Carwyn inquired.
"I couldn't sleep."
Carwyn turned his eyes to the night. "You've been quiet today."
Merlin supposed he had.
"Are you worried?"
Merlin lowered his eyes. "For you and them. For your lives."
Carwyn let out a breath. "I know I'm supposed to be the ever courageous prince, but I hope it's not weak to worry. They've put their lives in my hands."
"Our hands."
Carwyn turned his head to his guardian. "I won't let you make yourself responsible for them."
"I won't let you not make me," Merlin countered. "You aren't alone in this burden."
Carwyn smiled slightly. "I guess not." He picked at the grass next to him. "To be truthful, it's more than their lives on my mind."
Merlin recognized the softer tone in the prince's voice, the one he used when he needed Merlin's encouragement the most. "What else?"
"I don't think I'll ever live up to him."
"Arthur?" Merlin asked.
Carwyn nodded.
"No one's asking you to."
"I'm asking me to."
"Then stop."
"I can't help it," Carwyn said in frustration. "All the stories. He was wise, humble, just. Everyone loved him."
Merlin ticked off his response on his fingers as he answered. "Arrogant. Condescending. Bossy."
Carwyn grinned and interrupted. "He was until you changed him anyway."
"I didn't change him," Merlin disagreed. "I just helped him see himself more clearly. And he wasn't perfect. Time changes people's perceptions. He was a good man, but everyone has their demons."
Carwyn gazed on him thoughtfully. "Even you?"
"Of course."
"Care to share?"
"There are too many. We'd have to sit here all week."
Carwyn chuckled. "I don't believe that. Not that you don't have demons, but I don't think there are as many as you assume. You always carry too much weight, Merlin."
"Sometimes life makes you carry weight even if you don't want it," Merlin said quietly.
"I know you tried to save my father," Carwyn spoke in a hushed tone. "And I've known all these years you hold that as your greatest failure."
Merlin's heart thumped uncomfortably.
"I don't think my father could ever hold that against you. You and he, your loyalty and commitment to each other—it's legendary now."
Merlin coughed at a knot in his throat and closed his eyes that had moistened.
"Just...don't let his death beat you up anymore. Do it for him...and for me."
Merlin spoke slowly. "I'll try to forgive myself if you stop comparing yourself to him. You're a good prince, farther along than he was in many ways."
Carwyn sighed. "I can try."
They fell into silence. Merlin worked to maintain his composure. Arthur had died and Merlin could never seek his forgiveness for letting it happen. What Carwyn had just said came closest to absolving him of guilt than anything else ever had. But to forgive himself for Arthur's death felt akin to betraying Arthur's final moments. He couldn't do it.
Carwyn's gaze had drifted back to the soldiers sleeping by the fire. Merlin noted a tenderness in the prince's eyes, longing even. He followed his gaze and then smiled with half his mouth. "I don't know if it's appropriate for princes to fall in love with their knights."
Carwyn's head snapped to him. "Love?"
Merlin nodded towards the Druid that occupied his attention. "She is quite a rare find, beautiful and powerful."
"You think I love Nyra? No. No. I hardly know her."
"Love doesn't always have a timetable." His own thoughts meandered to a different time and place.
"Who was she?" Carwyn asked.
Merlin wasn't sure if the prince sensed a deeper story on his part or if he wanted to change the subject, but he obliged regardless. "A Druid like Nyra. I knew her only a few days before she died." Merlin didn't feel a need to tell the rest of the story. He wanted to keep the idea of her unsullied in the mind of the prince.
"How did she die?"
"A sickness." It was true from a certain point of view.
"I'm sorry."
Merlin nodded his thanks.
"Any other women hiding in your past?" Carwyn probed.
"A passing interest here or there, but nothing more." He'd been too hurt by Freya's death, afraid to risk his heart to another. That, and he'd almost abandoned his destiny for her. He was young and naive and would have left with her if he'd been able to. It was then he came to the conclusion that some pleasures in this life were not meant for him.
"Seriously, Merlin?" Carwyn asked as if he thought his guardian was holding out on him.
"It was my destiny to serve your father, not pursue my own personal desires," Merlin explained.
Carwyn raised his eyebrows. "So what's your destiny now?"
Merlin smiled. "To raise you, of course."
"I'm pretty well raised."
"Alright. Then, walk beside you."
Carwyn shook his head. "Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to own your own life?"
Merlin didn't answer. He had considered it. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't been so consumed with protecting and serving Arthur. A wife? His own home? His mother joyfully chasing grandchildren around Ealdor? But it wasn't to be. When he was younger, he realized dragging someone into his life meant he'd either have to lie to them or put them in danger if they knew his secret. By the time Carwyn was born, he'd essentially become a father dedicated to the prince. Asking a woman into his life then meant asking her to take on the burden of the prince as well. Besides, Merlin confessed to himself, he kind of coveted the unconventional family unit he, Gwen, and Carwyn composed.
Merlin didn't respond so long, Carwyn spoke again. "I know I'm not usually the one giving advice, but I think you should do something for yourself for once."
Merlin considered the prince, feeling again his pride and love for Arthur's heir. "I might have considered other outcomes of my life, but I do not regret my loyalty to your father or you." He gestured to Carwyn and the soldiers by the fire. "This is for myself. I don't want anything more than to serve the Pendragon family."
Carwyn stared at him in admiration and whispered, "We don't deserve you, Merlin." He smiled.
"Maybe not," Merlin said, grinning back.
Merlin held a finger to his lips. He crawled along the ground, Pello and Reynfrey slithering along on their bellies behind him. Merlin cursed the steel plated brigandine he wore. Crawling was entirely impractical in it. He paused on the edge of a rise. The soldiers gathered next to him.
Merlin cupped his hands. "Leoht flote," he whispered. He opened his hands and two blue, glowing spheres emerged. "Offlieg frendspede." The three watched them sail into the air and disappear beyond the ridge.
Not too long after another sphere appeared—red. Then a few seconds later, a yellow one. They settled into Merlin's palm. He closed his hand and eyed Pello and Reynfrey, nodding encouragingly. The others were in position.
An hour before, Droyn and Moeris had returned from scouting, reporting they had seen smoke and their magic sight revealed the raiders from Amata, clear by the description that had been given by the knights of Camelot. If possible, Carwyn wanted to take the raiders alive. They had divided into three groups: Merlin, Pello and Reynfrey; Carwyn, Alec, and Moeris; Nyra, Droyn, and Phipp. They approached from three different directions and near dawn, hoping to catch the raiders unawares.
Their enemy was thirty strong. Ten for each group, Merlin thought. Though of course, the raiders wouldn't divide evenly, but it still meant they could handle it. Even so, injury or death is not unavoidable. Merlin himself had been injured in battle before. He promised himself he'd do his best to keep his eyes on all their soldiers. Even now he sent out his sight to the other two groups, confirming they were safe.
Merlin drew his sword, as did Pello and Reynfrey. A sharp whistle sounded and they rose from their hiding place, sprinting over the ridge and down to the raider camp. No one milled about, hopefully all still asleep. Merlin sighted the other groups careening into the camp as well, but before they reached the edge, the raiders suddenly emerged from their tents, screaming. Merlin was taken aback, as he assumed was everyone else, but they went into action nonetheless, testament to Carwyn's training.
Chaos ensued. Swords clashed, spells were chanted. Merlin, seeing they were taken by surprise, conjured a wind that collapsed all the tents in an instant. Several forms struggled against the fallen cloth. At least some were out of the battle for the moment. Pello sent any object near him into the raiders, knocking them off their feet. Reynfrey ripped swords out of their enemies' hands.
Merlin soon realized he shouldn't have been worried about their first foray into battle. For all his fears, the raiders were defeated in minutes. They were magically bound, arms locked behind their backs. Only eight had been unavoidably killed. Carwyn forced them into a central area and ordered his soldiers to guard them.
Carwyn made his way to Merlin, his eyes troubled. "This is wrong. They knew we were coming." Merlin concurred. "And look at their clothing. Some of it is like that of Amata, but not all." Merlin ran an eye over them. He nodded, confirming Carwyn's suspicions.
"There's something deeper here," Merlin muttered.
Carwyn marched back to the raiders with Merlin by his side. "Who is your leader?" Carwyn shouted.
The raiders looked between each other, but said nothing.
"He is." Nyra marched through the prisoners and pointed her sword at one of them.
The man glared at her. He was brawny, bald, and swirling patterns adorned his face.
"How do you know?" Carwyn inquired.
"This tattoo," she said, tracing the pattern with her sword in the air. "It's indicative of someone chosen for their prowess."
"They do this in Amata?" Carwyn asked.
"No." She drew close to Carwyn and Merlin so only they could hear. "I've only seen it on a tribe of sorcerers known for their...willingness to utilize magic in all its forms."
Merlin's countenance darkened. "Dark magic."
Nyra nodded.
"Dark magic wielders in Amata?" Carwyn questioned. He glanced back at the man. "With that marking, he couldn't hide. He'd be killed on sight."
Merlin was reminded of his dream years ago when he'd felt what it had been like for Aithusa to be confined in a pit with Morgana. "It would be even more dangerous to hide there than it was in Camelot."
Carwyn turned back to the tattooed raider. "Who are you?"
The man said nothing, smirking up at the prince.
"You are not from Amata. We know that. Speak now."
The man looked away.
Carwyn leaned into Merlin and whispered. "I'm going to threaten him. Play along."
Merlin cocked his head, wary, but nodded.
"As you have observed," Carwyn said, pacing back and forth in front of the leader, "we are sorcerers. Our skills are unparalleled. And you may have heard of Merlin, the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth."
Merlin tried to look as fierce as possible, but he felt rather silly.
"If you do not speak, he will make you. It is his specialty."
Merlin had to force himself not to balk at the description.
"You think you scare me?" the man sneered.
"Answer me! Who are you? And how did you know we were coming?"
The man pursed his lips together.
"Merlin."
Merlin stalked towards the man, arm outstretched. His eyes glowed. "Gepring." The man's head was thrown back. Merlin didn't feel quite right about this, but he squeezed with his mind, just enough for the man to feel pressure.
Carwyn leaned over him.
"If...I talk...I can't..." the man stammered.
"If you don't talk, you will die."
"I can't...I..."
"If you talk, we will protect you. If you do not, death awaits you. Better to try your luck with us than whoever you are afraid of."
The man's eyes darted between the prince and Merlin.
"He...he is the one you...His name is..." The man gasped and shook violently. Carwyn's gaze snapped to Merlin.
"It's not me!" In fact, he had ceased to do anything when the man began to choke.
Carwyn glanced at his soldiers. "Who is doing this?" They looked at him in surprise, all of them shaking their heads.
The man's neck began to grotesquely crush. Merlin threw up his hand and his eyes went gold. He struggled to fight against whatever was happening. It was like pressing against a thick fog. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. No. Stop!
The man crumpled to the ground and stared blankly to the sky. The other raiders' eyes widened in fear.
Merlin breathed quickly. "I couldn't stop it," he murmured. He'd read about this. "A curse was on him. He would die if he dare attempt to mention the name."
Carwyn's brow had creased. "Why is magic involved here?"
Nyra knelt down next to the dead raider. She pulled up each of the man's sleeves, then his pant legs.
"What are you looking for?" Carwyn asked.
"You'll see." She raised the man's shirt. She nodded. "There." A brown tattoo lay along his collarbone.
Merlin's eyes narrowed. It was a diamond with a star in the center.
"It marks those loyal to the dead," Nyra explained. "My people have met one other with this mark. We aided him when he was hurt. He repaid us with treachery. And I know the woman he claimed to serve." Her sober gaze turned on Merlin.
Merlin's heart jumped into his throat. "Morgana."
Nyra nodded. Carwyn sucked in a breath.
Merlin shook his head. "The cult has been pervasive, but they've never done anything like this. What is going on?"
Miles away, a cloaked figure held a flat crystal in his palm. Merlin's troubled gaze stared back at him through it. The figure smiled. "Yes, Emrys, what does it mean? Pray to any god you hold dear that you do not discover too late for your doom is nigh." A chorus of voices echoed his words with eager anticipation.