Heeey, long time no update? *hides from possible angry mob*
So really, I have no good excuses. I'd love to say I was attacked by rabid cannibal ninjas or I had a three-month long power outage, but while there was an incident with a hornets' nest, and a separate incident with a chainsaw, there's really nothing to explain my long absence aside from massive writer's block and a touch of laziness. (Though I did try to reply to all the reviews and FF's messaging system borked on me. Either that Or I'm just an idiot.)
Due to the writer's block this chapter was very difficult to write and I ended up writing it way more times than I should have, and it got got the point where I honestly don't even know if it makes sense any more andwhatamIevendoingwithmylife. I feel bad about coming back fom such a long hiatus with...this underwhelming thing, but this chapter can't just be skipped. Seriously, I feel like it should be the most epic thing ever with how long I took to write it.
But alas, it is not that epic. If it's any consolation, during my writer's block madness I ended up typing a bunch of stuff for other chapters, including most of the next one, so unless I decide to trash it and rewrite it like I did so many times with this one, Chapter XXI should come much faster.
In other news, I got my first legitimately and completely negative review! This made me far happier than it should have, but no one ever accused me of being logical. So, thank you all for your reviews, and an extra thank you to Guest, if you're bothering to stick around.
Chapter XX
"I figured it out."
Arthur paused in his work and peered up at the small boy in the branches above him. "Sorry?"
"Why he's all muddled." Callum said, scampering a bit higher to reach more of the nuts still clinging stubbornly to the tree. It was the first food they had found in the last three days of rationing their meagre supplies as they traveled through this wasteland, and they were determined not to miss a single one. The others back at the camp would be thrilled when they returned. There was nothing to be done about the eery environment or sombre situation, but abating their hunger would go a long way to improve morale.
Arthur scooped up several more nuts from the ground where they had fallen and stuffed them into his satchel. "Why's that?"
"He's asleep." Callum answered. "We jist need to wake him up an' he can get better."
Arthur shook his head heavily. "Merlin isn't asleep, Callum. He's hurt and confused."
"But he thinks he's asleep, right?" Callum asked with a shrug. "I been watchin' him an' I can tell; he donnae ken when he's dreamin' or livin', an' those people messed 'round in his head until he cannae tell the difference.
"It donnae matter if he's sleeping or not; if he believes he is, then he is. So to fix him we jist have to show him which way is up. I think he can sort the rest out."
"And how do you propose I do that?" Arthur asked, humoring the boy. "I've been trying. He doesn't trust me anymore." It hurt to say it, but it was the truth.
"He thinks ye're a dream." Callum pointed out. "Do ye trust yer dreams?"
A pair of entangled, broken bodies lay at the bottom of a cliff.
The man that had pushed them off the edge stood at the top, looking down with Arthur's eyes, looking confused as if he didn't understand what he had done.
"Sometimes."
For a few minutes the only sounds were the rattle of nuts in their satchels and the quiet creaking of branches as Callum climbed across them with ease.
"He's goin' home." Callum stated with determined finality. "I'll make sure, this time."
Arthur stopped again and looked up, confused and slightly disconcerted. "What do you mean?"
"I'm stronger now." Callum tied his satchel closed and dropped out of the tree. "Better. An' he's stronger than Pa was. Ye saved me, twice now. An' if ye think 'bout it, ye'd never have been here to do that in the first place if it wasn' for Merlin, so I owe him too. It's my turn, innit?"
"I don't─"
"We gotta go back, afore Mam comes chasin' after us." Callum interrupted, already striding back towards camp.
Arthur just stood and blinked several times before following. "Hold on, what did you mean?"
Callum shrugged. "I wonnae let him die. I'll figure it out. Donnae worry."
Great, the kid thinks he can fix this. A misplaced sense of guilt from his father's death, perhaps? None of this could be easy for a child.
Arthur didn't want to think about what it would do to Callum if Merlin didn't make it.
As if I needed another thing to worry about.
"Found me any apples, laddie?" Gwaine called as they neared the edge of the camp. As one of the few uninjured members of their party he was put on watch more often than not.
Callum snorted. "Even if the forest was nae dead it's too late for apples. Found sommat, though."
"I'll take 'something' over 'nothing' any day." Alymere joined in without looking up from the fire he was stoking.
"Let's see." Gail said, standing up and dusting herself off, leaving Percival where he was leaned against a tree with fresh bandages on his arm.
Callum handed over his satchel and Arthur followed suit.
"Hazels!" Gail exclaimed after checking the contents of the satchel. "Good job. This should last us two days." She quickly turned away and started tucking the nuts into the embers of the fire to roast.
"Hopefully by then we'll have reached the pass." Alymere said.
"If it's even open." Gwaine said pessimistically.
"It will be." Gail assured them. "Lailoken is never wrong."
"Then it will be open." Alymere said simply. "And we will be home free."
Not for the first time, Arthur was struck by the strange amount of trust Alymere put in these sorcerers. Even before Gail had helped them he hadn't seemed afraid or even wary of the magic she wielded. He briefly considered the possibility of an enchantment, but dismissed the idea immediately.
"Cal, why donnae ye fetch a rock or two to crack these shells?" Gail suggested.
Callum gave Merlin a brief glance before wandering off to find a suitable rock.
"He said some strange things." Arthur told her quietly while Callum was distracted. "He thinks he can fix Merlin. He thinks he has to."
Gail nodded. "He's gettin' too close. I've been trying to keep him away, but now that we're out here it's impossible. He damn near tore himself apart after his father..." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, looking as drained as Arthur felt.
"What was his name? You never said."
Gail sucked in a deep breath and looked away. "Nae. I dinnae, did I? Ye worry 'bout yer friend; I'll worry 'bout my son." She spun away abruptly and walked to where Callum was happily cracking open nuts by the fire and chattering away to Merlin, who was, as usual, not responding in the slightest.
Arthur hung back for a moment, simply observing his party. Something had gone horribly wrong with the group and he had somehow missed it. Alymere kept sending sad, pitying glances towards Merlin; Gwaine wouldn't look at him at all, and seemed to constantly want to sneak back the way they had come; Gail seemed suspicious, even afraid of Merlin at times and would watch him closely every time Callum got too close (though, on closer thought, Arthur realized that she had always done this to an extent) and never leaving them alone together; Percival...well, Percival was in pain and even quieter than usual. He was the most normal one of the bunch.
Oddly enough, he found himself understanding the sorceress's behavior the easiest. Merlin had attacked Arthur with a knife the other day, it was understandable if she didn't want her son spending too much time around him. That, and the strange attachment Callum seemed to have with Merlin lately.
Gwaine, on the other hand, was a whole other barrel of fish. He was one of Merlin's closest friends, and now his jaw tightened and he bristled with quiet rage every time someone mentioned his name, or he woke screaming from a nightmare. Whenever they rode out Merlin sat in front of Arthur on a horse, despite Merlin's violent reaction the day before. Gwaine had adamantly refused to go anywhere near him. It was concerning, to say the least.
Still, it made little difference to Merlin. He hardly seemed aware of what was going on around him in his strange, catatonic state.
Whether or not Callum could do anything to "wake him up," he was right; something had to change. He wanted to deny it, but it was impossible. Merlin was getting worse every passing day, and sooner or later he was going to die. He barely ate, barely moved, and still wouldn't breath properly because of the pain it caused in his broken shoulder. Much longer of this and he would develop lung fever and Arthur couldn't delude himself into believing that he was strong enough to survive that, with or without Gail's weak magic.
He couldn't dare to imagine how he could go home and resume ruling Camelot without him. It wouldn't be the same, wouldn't feel right.
When did I become so dependent on a mere servant? Arthur wondered, watching as Merlin dozed off by the fire.
Probably somewhere between "I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass." and "Clotpole."
Camelot could never be the same without the idiot. It could never quite be home.
Not that Arthur would ever say that out loud.
Arthur picked up a rock and a handful of hot, toasted nuts and sat down between Merlin and Callum, careful not to wake Merlin up. He'd be awake again in an hour or two, screaming from a nightmare; he needed all the rest he could get.
Arthur was on third watch that night, but barely got ten minutes in before Merlin woke from his second dream of the night with a terrified, pained scream and jerked up out of his blankets, clutching his shoulder and choking on his breath.
The camp woke, but no one moved. They had discovered the hard way that offering comfort or touching Merlin when he was in this state only made things worse. The first time someone had tried Merlin had shook and cried for a full three hours.
So they remained silent as he hyperventilated, glanced around himself, muttered quietly and slowly sank back into his catatonic state. Half an hour later he was drifting back to sleep, and most of the others were either following suit or pretending to.
Arthur saw Callum try to get up, but his mother caught him and pulled him back down. "Chan eil beantuinn dha! Fuirich air falbh, balach." She hissed quietly. Arthur couldn't understand the words, but they had the unmistakable tone of an order─one that Callum obeyed immediately.
Another twenty minutes passed in silence before Gail carefully stood, disentangling herself from her son and joining Arthur where he sat with his back against a tree.
"You already took your watch." Arthur whispered.
Gail nodded and sat down next to him, close enough that their elbows were almost touching. "I need to talk to ye. Merlin cannae make it to the mountains like this, much less all the way to Camelot."
Arthur let out a deep breath between his teeth, smothering the illogical anger he felt towards her for saying what he had been thinking for days. "I know. But there's nothing I can do about it. You said yourself there was nothing to be done to fix his arm."
"And he's too weak to amputate." Gail whispered, nodding again, completely oblivious to Arthur's nausea at the thought. "But there is another option. A bit dangerous and nae wee bit unpleasant."
Arthur straightened, peering at her in the dark. "What is it?"
"Do ye trust me?"
Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. Did he? Could he? So far she had done next to nothing to cause him any distrust, but it had been proven time and time again that magic was wily and dangerous. "I don't know."
Gail hesitated, too. "Do ye trust magic?"
Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. "I cannot. I was raised to hate and fear magic. I have nearly died by its touch countless times. It took my mother, my father, my sister, my knights, and now it has taken Merlin as well."
"I understand tha─"
"I don't." Arthur interrupted, shaking his head again. "I don't understand it. I've seen magic cause so much hurt. I've seen it kill, maim, destroy entire families, cause famine and pestilence."
He gestured widely at the dead forest around them. "But, evidently, the absence of it causes the same thing! But magic is what caused this absence in the first place; sorcerers whose taste of power poisoned them into addiction until what they had wasn't enough. It made them steal it from others and twist it into something vile. This is what I've always seen magic as an what I believed it to be.
"But I have also seen it bring light, and comfort, and healing. I saw it help Merlin of its own accord, unadulterated by the influence of sorcerers. How can all of this come from the same source? I don't understand it, and I cannot trust what I do not understand."
"Yet ye trust Merlin." Gail whispered. "Despite the things he'll nae say and the war scars on his body."
"That's different. I understand him, who he is. I don't need to understand what he does. I've always known he kept secrets, and now he has kept mine under six months of brutal torture. I can do nothing but allow him to keep his."
Gail nodded. "It innae my place to try to change yer beliefs, but I cannae help him if ye donnae trust me. If ye donnae, ye'll try to intervene and if ye intervene the results will be catastrophic."
A chill went down the young king's spine at her dark words and he was suddenly reminded that he was sitting beside and conversing with a sorceress, warrior, and mother; three of the most dangerous adjectives one could apply to a human being.
"What do you plan on doing to him?"
"Nothing without yer say."
"Tell me."
Gail shifted uncomfortably, clearly unhappy with their options. "I could...burn the feeling out of his arm with magic. He'd never be able to move it again, but that innae an issue in this case. He'd never again feel pain or anything else from it if I'm successful."
"He wouldn't feel anything? Is that what the Mirror did to their soldiers?" Arthur asked, suppressing a shudder at the memory of cutting and stabbing at a man who just kept going despite it.
"Unlikely. Rather, near impossible." Gail said. "I can use this spell on Merlin because it is jist his shoulder and arm. Those soldiers were immune to pain everywhere. Using this spell like that would destroy their insides. It would jist be a cruel way to kill a person.
"What they got is likely an enchantment of dark magic. I cannae ken for sure, but I have a couple o' theories. Possibly, the spell is anchored to an object. But if that were the case the enchantment would be weaker, and they would give them to all of their soldiers, but we only saw the spell on some of them. That implies either limited supplies or limited range, leadin' me to believe...an' this wonnae help yer view on magic, but it could be anchored to another person somewhere. Any pain inflicted on the person would be directed back to the anchor."
Arthur flinched in horror as the reality of her words sunk in. Every blow he had landed on one of them..."Could...could Merlin have been one of those anchors?"
Gail didn't answer.
"Gail?" Arthur's voice was a touch louder than he had intended, and she shushed him.
"Aye, that's likely." Arthur felt sick. "But I cannae be sure. As I said, I donnae even ken if that's how they did it. But inflicting pain without damage, forcing him to feel the deaths of others again and again...it would be the perfect way to break a man's mind. If he was aware it was his friends inflicting it...well, that would jist be an added bonus to that lot." The disgust in her voice was palpable.
"But that donnae help us, because I have neither the knowledge or the inclination to try it. What I spoke of is entirely contained to Merlin. There are some risks. To be effective, I'd need to do his entire shoulder. It's awfully close to his spine, throat, lungs, heart. If I lose control, even a wee bit...He could be paralyzed, or unable to breathe. His heart could jist stop."
"How likely is that to happen?" Arthur questioned, trying his hardest to push the new information about Merlin's torture out of his mind for now.
"Depends." Gail shrugged. "If everything goes perfectly, I can do it. I have the control and precision of a surgeon. If sommat interrupts me or I cannae gather enough power..."
Arthur rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin. "You think I might interfere?"
"Well..." Gail whispered hesitantly. "He'll nae feel anything once it's done, but while I'm doin' it, it's gonna hurt. For minutes, at most. But it will feel longer. It...It will burn the whole time, and if I am interrupted somehow or cannae get the magic, the burnin' will nae stop. He'll be stuck that way, and I'm nae likely to be able to start again and finish it. If that happens, ye'll have to kill him."
Arthur shook his head. "You're asking me to hurt him again."
"Torture." She corrected plainly.
Arthur turned away again. Several yards away, Merlin stirred slightly in his sleep and Arthur knew it was the start of yet another nightmare. "Too many people have hurt him."
"Aye." Gail agreed quietly. "And if we donnae do this, we're killing him. It's yer choice, Arthur."
"I need to think about it." Arthur said after yet another long silence, the weight of this decision settling over his shoulders like a ton of bricks.
Gail nodded. "I understand. I had to think a good long while afore even mentioning it to ye. Jist remember that he donnae have forever."
She stood and walked back to her son, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.
"Sire?" Arthur jumped, ashamed and angry at himself for getting so distracted on watch that Alymere had managed to sneak up on him. He hadn't even realized his watch was nearing its end, he had been so focused on his thoughts.
"Sir Alymere." Arthur greeted.
"I'm here to relieve you."
Arthur nodded. "Can I ask you a question?"
Alymere looked surprised. "Of course."
"You have trusted Gail since the beginning. Even from the first time she used magic, you never doubted her. You were never even a little wary about the magic. Why?"
Alymere shifted nervously. "I..."
"It's alright, Alymere. I will not fault you for anything you say tonight. I only need to make a decision and could use a second opinion."
Alymere hesitated a moment longer before complying. "I grew up in a small village west of Camelot, as you know. Ildridge. My mother was a kind-hearted woman, always baking for sick neighbors and the like. If anyone needed help or cheering, she was there to do it. But in private, when she thought no one could see, there was a deep sadness to her. An emptiness.
"I heard her one night when I was a boy. She thought me and my siblings were sleeping. She was crying, telling my father she couldn't stand it anymore. She said it felt like she had cut off her arm. My father was trying to comfort her. He told her it was better this way, safer for all of us.
"I didn't understand what they spoke of then, but nary a month later my mongrel pet dog died. Stoned by the neighbor boys, who were bigger than I. I loved that beast far more than I ought to, and I was inconsolable.
"My mother...she tried to comfort me. She told me the dog had gone to live in the wind. He would fly over hills and tear through the woods, startling birds and chasing squirrels forever and ever."
Alymere hesitated in his story again. "She whispered some words and pointed to the fire, and I saw him, shaped from the smoke. He looked hale and happy. Bounding over coals and snapping at the sparks. And then he floated up the chimney, free in the wind. It wasn't the first time she had shown me small tricks like this, and I was...enraptured and delighted as always."
Alymere smiled slightly as he reminisced. "My father saw what she had done and he was afraid. He shouted at her, told her it wasn't safe. What if someone saw?
"She shouted back, said that she missed it terribly and he was a cruel husband for keeping her from it.
"He asked her if it was cruel of him to want her to live, and she cried that if this enslavement was life then she didn't want it. He struck her. It was the only time I had ever seen my father discipline my mother so and I was as shocked as she. He apologized and embraced her, but I would remember the incident forever.
"My mother never used magic again. Every day she seemed to die a little bit more. She drew into herself, lost some of that light and kindness that made her so beautiful. My father tried to cheer her, but nothing seemed to work.
"There was...a pyre my thirteenth year. The town smith. My mother took her own life that night."
Yet again, Arthur found himself shocked and horrified into silence. He wondered how many other mothers had quietly withered away because of his father's─or his own─actions.
"I know you learned as a child to hate and fear magic, Sire." Alymere continued softly. "But I learned to hate fear. It wasn't her magic that killed my mother, it was my father's fear. So when I first saw Gail use magic I did not see a sorceress; I saw a mother comforting her son."
Arthur stood. "I am sorry for your loss, Alymere."
Alymere smiled sadly. "I was not the only boy to lose a mother, my lord. My loss was not your fault, nor was it your father's. My mother made her choice, and if that choice was to leave me and join the winds, who am I to question that? I hope my story helped you."
Arthur had been struggling with the morality of the situation, his own selfish desires and doubts in Gail. He realized now that he had been overthinking the situation.
He looked again at Merlin, laid out and broken on his back by the fire. He'd put him there. Merlin had gone into their hands to save him. What had he ever done to deserve such sacrifice and pain? He had looked for him, yes, but only found him after five months of chasing his tail. Then he'd forced his mind, his soul into Merlin's without permission. Gone against his wishes and drugged him as he begged to die.
He hadn't been able to let him go, so he'd taken the control out of Merlin's hands and left him a silent, empty shell with no grasp on reality. Was he really any better than they were?
It seemed like, ever since the moment he had found him in that cave his life had been one poor decision after another. Merlin had been getting better, and now it seemed like he never would, and it was directly Arthur's fault.
He had been trying to block such thoughts from his mind. Of course he would get better. This was Merlin. Last time he'd thought he was going to die he'd found him climbing out of a bog, grinning ear-to-ear and right as rain. He'd be fine.
But that kind of thought wouldn't get them anywhere. Denial, that's what it was. That sense of false optimism was what had led him to make every poor decision for Merlin in the past few weeks. He was an adult, a king─he had to face reality and live in the real world.
And the reality was that Merlin was dying. Merlin was dying and there was nothing Arthur could do to save him, simply because he had no right to save him. Here he was, debating with himself about whether or not he could trust a sorceress to save his friend, but that wasn't the debate he needed to be having.
The answer had been staring him in the face this entire time.
This choice was never his to make. It was Merlin's.
If he wants to die, after everything he has been through for me, I have no right to deny him that. Arthur thought. And if he wants to fight, I have no right to stand in his way. I cannot repay his loyalty by doing anything less. He has never been my enemy; I won't fight him, not even for his life.
He had been worrying so much about all of this responsibility, but the problem was that he never should have made it his responsibility in the first place.
Arthur smiled and clapped Alymere on the shoulder. "You know, I think it did. Thank you, Alymere."
Now on to the next problem─getting Merlin to "wake up."