Finally, back to His Royal Pratness—I mean Highness.
~21~ Let's Ride
Arthur gasped as what felt like a thousand glass teeth raked down his back. He was lying face down at the edge of a forest stream, his right arm limp in the icy water and rocks and twigs digging into his front. Grunting, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, shuddering as agony rippled throughout his whole body.
What...happened...?
He forced himself to sit back on his heels, and glanced down at his bare chest. Gashes that could only have been made by some savage beast opened his skin in multiple places, now black with dried blood. Two in particular had taunt, raw-looking skin burning around them, as though infected. It hurt to breathe.
Flashes of memory taunted his inner eye as he cupped water in his hands and drank deeply. The water was sweet and he drank until his stomach ached. Then he tried as hard as he could to recall what had happened before he turned, for that was what could only have happened. Closing his eyes, he crawled backwards until his spine lay against the mossy face of a boulder, trying to ignore the pain.
Like playful, flickering flames—there one moment and gone the next—Arthur remembered.
A Silverblood, swathed in black, attacking him with the burning silver dagger and giving him the raw wounds that now burned in his chest and stomach...There was a knight, Elyan, in a large cage, surrounded by black-swathed people...He remembered yelling something, and pushing Elyan away...Then...then...nothing.
For the love of Camelot, what have I done?
Did he killed Elyan? Worse still, did he eat him?
No, no! Anything but that!
There were weapons in that cage, he suddenly recalled. The knight would have fought. Perhaps won his freedom?
The king could only hope, and pray.
His many scabs, scattered all over his body, split and bled as he went to stand. A few on the back of his neck were particularly vicious. Shoving down the pain in annoyance, Arthur began to follow the water downstream, wincing as his tender feet pressed down on twigs and sharp rocks. In less than an hour, as he expected, the brook joined a rushing river, which he followed in turn. It wasn't long before he came across an old fishing shack, which he cautiously approached and checked for occupation before letting himself inside. Glad that the inhabitants were out, the king helped himself to the clothes in the rickety, rotting wardrobe, trying to ignore the heavy scent of fish and mud that wafted from them in waves.
Frowning, he stopped himself from putting them on, then checked the rest of the shack. There were no other clothes in the place, so he had to content himself with those that were.
Ten minutes later, he emerged with a shirt that revealed his stomach and elbows, pants that nearly reached his shins, and a hat that was too small for a child.
Who the hell lives here? He thought, bewilderingly disgruntled. A bleeding dwarf?
He left the hat on the porch railing, then went back inside and found a long coat, which almost reached past his calves. He didn't even bother trying the boots. Grumbling, he made note of the location, as to return what he had taken, and then continued down the river.
A water mill soon came into view, and, ignoring the estranged looks he received as he crashed his way through the last of the bushes, wearing clothes fit for a gnome and looking like he had wrestled with an angry bear, he managed to convince the man of the business to part with a horse and cart. The man's eldest son agreed to accompany Arthur back to Camelot, seeing as he knew the way and was eager to get away from work.
Once within the cities walls, near two hours later, Arthur had the youth do him one last favour, promising him enough gold to feed his family for the next three winters. Though sceptical (for how could this ragged hermit have enough to feed himself for even a day), the miller's son obliged in fetching better-fitting attire from a nearby tailor, which Arthur donned gratefully. Then he told the youth to follow him, and led him to the citadel.
Not ten minutes later, the young man staggered from the castle with the gold promised, eyes wide in the knowledge that he had been in the presence and the servitude of his king, the oath sworn to never tell anyone of the state Arthur was found in burned into his memory.
Ͻ Ϫ Ͻ
It wasn't until several hours later that Gaius deemed himself satisfied and finally stopped fluttering around Arthur like a mother hen. The king felt tight with all the stiff bandages holding him together, but the pain had been numbed, and for that, he was appreciative.
"Thank you, Gaius. What would we do without you?"
"It's an honour, sire, as always." The physician was smiling, but it was taunt. Arthur looked away, guilty.
"I'm sorry we couldn't find Merlin."
"Me, too. I can only hope that he finds his own way home safely."
The king nodded, then stared at the door with a heavy feeling of trepidation. "I'm not going to be able to leave without being surrounded by guards. I just wish to speak with Gwen—"
"Alllll right, you soggy lot! Get out of here by order of the king! Go on, move!"
The voice was only slightly muffled by the door, but it was clear that Gwaine's voice was the one responsible for the rumble and ramble that emerged from outside the chambers. It was as though the knight had been waiting for a cue, and Arthur had just given it.
"Go on, ladies. You're using up all the air in here. Get lost, I say!"
Arthur chuckled as at last all fell still outside, and then Gwaine burst in, a smile to dazzle the sun on his dashing features. On his heels were Percival and Leon, no less amused by their companion's beneficial efforts to clear the hall.
"You royal goon! Gave us quite the scare, you did." Gwaine ignored the arm Arthur held out to clasp and instead gave him a big, brotherly hug, crushing the king's chest and forcing the air from his lungs. "We need to find you a babysitter," he added as he released him. "Perhaps lock you up somewhere."
Arthur smiled through a pained grimace, then winced as a newcomer came from behind and patted him on the back. "No more fur. That's good."
"Elyan! I didn't eat you!"
The knight grinned. "Yep, and thank you for not doing so."
"To celebrate, mates!" crowed Gwaine, throwing an arm around Percival and another on Leon. "Down to the Rising Sun we go! Last week, I challenged Merlin to a..." The knight trailed off awkwardly, and Arthur bit his lip as he looked at something on the ceiling.
"Now's not the time, Gwaine," said the king, coldly calm. "We aren't out of black waters yet."
"He's right," put in Elyan. He looked to his lord. "We have important information for you, sire. It's best we fill you in on the way."
"On the way where?"
"To meet Bianca."
The knights said nothing as they let Arthur chew on the new knowledge in silence.
"So this Silver Heart...It controls werewolves?"
The Silverblood, Bianca, nodded shyly and scooted closer to Gwaine. Arthur leaned towards her, not to intimidate her but to impress the height of his urgency on her. "Is it in your kins' possession?"
"Not anymore, by Sir Elyan's account," she replied softly. "The Blackhands have it now."
"Are you certain? How would I have escaped, then?"
Bianca looked confused. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense. They wouldn't have let you go – the only logical explanation I can assume is that you were broken out."
"But by whom? If it's someone from Camelot, they would have stepped forward by now, one would think."
The red-haired woman shifted in her seat, then stiffened. "Sophia."
"What?"
Bianca didn't reply at first. Arthur let her think for a while before clearing his throat impatiently. Her tone grew stronger, and more excited, as her thoughts came to light.
"Sophia was one of the few who avoided arrest. She would have been the one who kidnapped you on Baldwin's orders, but the captain would never have done so if he knew what the Blackhands where going to do to you and Rowan, nor would Sophia have followed them."
"Rowan was the other werewolf, right? The one that bit me?"
"Yes, and, once, a legendary leader of the Silverbloods. If Sophia remained true to her kind, she would have done something to stop the fighting. She would have broken Elyan free, and then, somehow, you."
"But no one touched the cage door when it opened," protested Elyan, frowning. "It was as though it were by magic."
"No Silverblood has the powers like a mage or sorcerer," Bianca replied quietly, refusing to meet the knight's gaze for a while. Then she stared right at Arthur. "You have powerful friends, Arthur Pendragon. They would have saved your knight and then taken the Heart, for you wouldn't have gotten far if it was still in Blackhand possession."
Sitting back, the king pondered her words. Who could have taken the Heart? A sorcerer? A warrior? A simple thief? He couldn't think of any allies that may be wandering in the woods, other than perhaps the Druids. In any case, he owed whoever saved him an unforgettable debt.
"So...how do we get the Heart, then?" asked Leon, studying a knot in the wooden table. "In the wrong hands, a man could slaughter an entire village with a werewolf. Not to mention that he could control you," he added, nodding at Arthur. "This wouldn't be such an issue, for we can kill Rowan, but we can't kill you."
"Does the Heart do anything else?" asked Gwaine gently of Bianca. The Silverblood shrugged, her frown spawned from the thought of killing Rowan fading.
"Most of us were kept in the dark of the Heart's properties. We don't know where it was even found, or what it truly is. You should ask Baldwin. After he's heard of what the Blackhands have done, then he'll give you everything he knows."
Arthur did not hesitate. He ordered the Silverblood captain down into the interrogation room, then ordered food and drink for both of his captives.
When Baldwin entered, he managed to hide the haggard look and put on one of solemn dignity, which he held as he was sat at the table before the food that he pointedly ignored. Then he was told of the Blackhands' treachery, and a hurricane would have had difficulty matching his fury. He looked to be trying his best to remain impassive, but he trembled like a wet rat and muscles twitched in his jaw and near his eye.
"Argus Vane," the captain toned, rage jolting his words, referring to the Blackhand cult master. "I should have known he would be up to no good. His father was a slippery one, and sour grapes never tumble far from the vine."
"Baldwin," said Arthur, voice low, "we can turn this all around. Do you know a way to get the Heart back? Who had it last?"
The Silverblood breathed heavily through his nose, a maddened bull, but he managed to retain a calm composure. "Benjamin, our priest, who wasn't captured like the rest of us, was last to be its Keeper, but he would no longer be in possession of it. Vane would have seized it from him, whether he was willing to relinquish it or not. However..." The captain paused, though for extra thought or for dramatic effect it wasn't known. "There is one man, Remus, who may be able to...detect its presence – he was in charge of it in this country for many years."
"So he's a Blackhand?" asked Percival, who was standing in a corner, arms crossed.
"Yes, unfortunately. His blood runs strong but his family had decided to remain here, as guardians of Rowan."
"So he, Rowan, is the real reason why half of your kind remained in Albion?" Arthur demanded, not unkindly, but disgruntled that he had been lied to, again.
"Not exactly, no. My father, along with a few others, including Vane's and Remus', were told that Rowan was still alive, but the rest were kept in the dark. The next generation swore to tell no one until a chance to legitimately cure Rowan became imminent, but it's an oath I have no choice but to break." He didn't looked pleased, but it was true that he had precious few options. "I knew Rowan lived, and I held contact with Vane to keep tabs on his progress of finding a cure using the Silver Heart. Then word stopped coming, as though he had spontaneously forgotten about us in Italia. I knew something was up, then." The look of an angry ocean maelstrom passed over his already dark expression. "I never trusted Vane's father, even as a young child. I should never have trusted his son."
"Rowan must have been a good man for your kind to watch him for a hundred years," said Arthur quietly.
"By the stories, you would think him a legend yourself."
Arthur rested his chin on his knuckles, and chewed a nail thoughtfully. Then he shook himself. "Well, we can talk of his greatness later. Right now, we need to find the man who cared for the Heart. Where is he?"
"We left him with Silverbloods to guard him in an abandoned abbey several miles from here," said Baldwin. He had a new air now, as though telling the truth for once was setting him free of a heavy burden. "We had captured him and the Heart after your servant smashed his waggon with the beast, with Rowan, inside. Until now, we had no idea how far Vane had misused and betrayed such a duty, that the cultists were simply finding easy gold by sacking villages and using a monster to terrify people into submission."
"So he's still alive, then. Where is this abbey?"
"Northeast from here, at the top of a hill."
"Saint Peter's Abbey," blurted Percival suddenly. "I know the place."
Arthur stood and did not protest when Baldwin did the same. "Then we shall get this Remus and find out what he knows. It may not be much, but anything is useful now."
"You changed last night?" asked Baldwin of the king, who nodded grimly, albeit sternly. "Then there is a chance that we have a few days until the next transformation, by which we should find a cure to make this easier; not everyone changes back to a human after the second turn."
"In any case, we have little time," announced Gwaine, also standing, all flamboyance gone. "I will prepare the horses."
Arthur waved him down. "No, Gwaine. You stay. You are still injured."
The knight growled. "Just try and stop me." The fire in his eyes proved to Arthur that even wild elephants would have no chance of doing so. Bianca tried not to show the admiration in her face as she looked up to him, but failed.
"Let's ride," said Leon.
You know the worst part of adolescent life is? Waiting for a company to get back to you on a job application -_- Very nerve-wracking.
And so concludes the Random Comment Programme of this evening. Tune in tomorrow when we discuss the fact that bull kelp is not a plant!
"Anyway, you need some form of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing!" ~ Pippin Took (The Lord of the Rings)