Chapter XXIX: Rumors and Rescues
The tale spread like wildfire: a sorcerer (warlock, actually, but most people didn't know the difference) had publically endangered himself to save Prince Arthur Pendragon, son of the man who had begun the Purge. There had already been whispered stories throughout the land, rumors that sorcerers were becoming more active and visible, but a lot of those yarns had come from a friend of a friend. Many had thought them no more than rumors, for only a few people had witnessed druids performing magic in plain sight.
But Emrys's deeds had proven that those rumors were not merely rumors. Too many people had seen him in the ring, had seen him use magic to impersonate Arthur and to escape the guards. There was no way that anyone could keep that little escapade a secret.
Uther tried, of course, but his threats only made his subjects clam up whenever they saw a red cloak. They didn't stop anyone from telling their relatives on the farm, merchants, or travelers about the prince's spellbinder.
Soon, all of Camelot knew the gist of the tale. Details varied widely, of course. Some said that Uther kept a sorcerer in reserve, others that Arthur had in desperation turned to magic to save his life. A few claimed that the real Arthur had fought the mystery knight and that the 'Arthur' in Camelot was the real sorcerer. One particularly insistent individual even asserted that the sorcerer was a sorceress, and she had saved Arthur's life because she had fallen in love with the handsome prince.
That last one was Morgana's absolute favorite.
The tales varied from ridiculous to nervous to confused to skeptical, but not one person so much as suggested that this was not the first time Arthur Pendragon owed his life to magic.
My name is Emrys, and I'm your guiding light.
Arthur hadn't told anyone what the warlock had said. He hadn't told anyone the significance of the globe of light that had vanished mere moments after its conjuror. How could he? That would mean revisiting the Cave of Balor and whatever had happened with Sophia Tir-Mor and he would have to tell his father that he had lied to his face. He couldn't do that.
After all, Arthur told himself when guilt left him unable to sleep, it wasn't as though Emrys had hurt him. Quite the opposite. When he'd confronted Gaius and Father about their decision to drug him, they had explained what the stranger knight was. Had Arthur fought his uncle's wraith, he would have died, for there could be only one victor when a mortal and an immortal fought to the death. At the very least he would have been badly wounded and bedridden like Sir Pellinor was. That made this the third time Emrys had saved his life.
Arthur just wished he knew why.
"Still no luck?" Uther growled.
"No, sire," sighed the plainly exhausted Leon. "As I said, I believe that the sorcerer has taken refuge among the druids. If he was still in the city, we would have found him."
Merlin kept his face carefully blank. The warlock didn't look at Gaius, knowing that the physician was just as determinedly not looking at him. Silent and somber, he poured a bit more wine into Arthur's goblet. If his hands were a bit less steady than usual, his grip tighter, then nobody noticed.
"Then find the druids," the king commanded. "Find them, and kill them all. Each team of hunters will contain at least one man who saw the sorcerer's face. When the teams have dealt with the druids, the witness will inspect every body. If he finds the one who so flagrantly flaunted my laws, he will remove the sorcerer's head and bring it back to Camelot."
Leon's jaw was tight, but he spoke no word of protest. He did, however, glance towards his frowning prince.
"Father," Arthur said slowly, "we have no proof that the druids are sheltering this man."
"They are the most likely candidates," Uther reminded him. "And you know as well as I that the druids have become more active these past few months. Many of the reports we've received contain mention of druidic symbols."
"So they do," Arthur admitted, "but the druids in those reports have done naught but help people."
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Merlin half-expected to see his breath pluming in the air.
When Uther spoke, his voice was as quiet and hard as ice. "The druids in the reports have disobeyed my law, practicing the vile art of magic before the eyes of the people in repeated deliberate attempts to undermine my reign. They may present a friendly façade, but even the ones without magic would gladly see it returned to my kingdom. They seek to undo my entire life's work, and you say they have done naught but help people?"
Arthur flushed. "I meant that their actions have harmed no one."
"Yet," his father replied.
"The druids have always been a peaceful people," Arthur pressed.
Uther fixed him with a long, cold, hard stare. His son flushed but met his sire's eyes, at least at first. Soon the red faded from Arthur's cheeks and he dipped his head.
Merlin fought back a pang of disappointment. It was still progress, he reminded himself. A year ago, Arthur wouldn't have said anything, especially not with other council members looking on.
"Gaius."
"Yes, sire?" the physician said. He sounded nervous.
"What exactly have you been teaching my son?"
Merlin's heart stuttered. Of course Uther would believe that Arthur's new opinions came from Gaius. Which meant that Uther thought….
He had burnt men alive for less.
Arthur went white. He stared at his father in horrified disbelief.
Gaius's eyes widened ever so slightly, but his voice did not tremble. "We have mostly been learning about magical creatures, sire. Manticores, bastet, afanc, and so on."
"We're currently studying wyverns," Leon confirmed. Merlin shot him a grateful smile.
"It's the reports themselves that have persuaded me, not anything that Gaius said." Arthur was stiff in his chair, his jaw tight with strain.
"I cannot think of anything in our classes—"
"That is enough, Sir Leon," Uther interrupted. The knight fell silent, worry writ plain across his face. "If you recall, Arthur, I gave you permission to learn about magic because I thought you mature enough to not be seduced by it. Your behavior has proved otherwise. Your lessons are disbanded, effective immediately."
"Yes, Father," Arthur ground out. His entire body was tense, rigid, and he seemed to have trouble unclenching his teeth. "I understand."
Merlin understood, too. He understood that Arthur was being punished, that he was being threatened, that Gaius was being threatened. He also understood that Arthur would be in a vile mood for the rest of the day and would undoubtedly take it out on his manservant.
Sure enough, Merlin was completely exhausted by the time Arthur was through with him. He barely had enough energy to ask Gaius if Uther had said anything else.
"No," the physician replied. He was quieter than usual, his gaze distant. "He said nothing about my supposed responsibility for Arthur's change of heart."
"Good," Merlin said, smiling. That was something, at least. "Let me know if that changes, will you?" He turned, fully intending to go to bed.
"Wait."
"What?" Please don't have something for me to do. Please don't make me clean the leech tank….
"After you and Arthur left, he gave orders to arrest and detain certain individuals he suspects of sympathizing with spellbinders."
Merlin groaned. His bed was so close, but he really ought to hear Gaius out first. "When?"
"Tomorrow, I'm afraid," Gaius answered. He had the grace to look apologetic about it, though.
Silently cursing the king and his paranoia, Merlin trudged into his bedroom and withdrew his druidic clothing from beneath his loose floorboard. After donning the deep green tunic, gray trousers, and navy cloak, he whispered the spells of illusion that would make him look like Emrys.
Gaius had a list of names, eight unfortunate individuals who had said the wrong thing at the wrong time or flinched away from burnings or had a magical relative or something. Merlin didn't really pay attention to their 'crimes.' All he needed were their names and addresses.
The first of the accused sympathizers was an old widow woman with wiry gray hair and eyes of the same shade. Those gray eyes went wide when she saw who had arrived at her door. "Get inside," she breathed, half-dragging him in. "You're him, aren't you?" she whispered. "You're the one who saved Prince Arthur."
"Yes," Merlin confirmed. "My name is Emrys."
"What brings you to my home, Master Emrys?"
"Danger," was Merlin's flat response. "Uther is planning a raid. He intends to arrest eight people, yourself among them."
The woman's eyes went wide with fear, but her voice only trembled a little as she asked, "When?"
"Tomorrow, I'm afraid," Merlin admitted.
The woman's head jerked in a nod. "I have kin in a village nearby," she said. "Do you know if Uther knows about them?"
"I have no idea," Merlin confessed. "I know where you can find a druid, though. His name is Blaise."
"Are you a druid?" the woman asked, her gaze settling on the triskel-shaped clasp of Merlin's cloak. It gleamed dully in the dim light.
"No, I'm not. I just know some, that's all."
"It's the same with me," the woman confessed. She swallowed hard. "Well, I suppose I oughtn't endanger my kin if I can find a place with the druids. I've heard that they'll take in anyone."
"That they will. You'll be safe there."
"Give me a few minutes to pack and I'll go meet this druid of yours," she promised.
"Of course. I have to contact the others anyways."
Merlin had five more conversations like that one. There was one couple, though, that tried to attack him when it became clear that he was a spellbinder. Apparently they weren't actually sympathizers. Merlin tried to explain to them that they were in danger still, that Uther still thought they were his enemies and they could be burnt at the stake, but they still refused to move.
That was when a trio of guards arrived. Apparently, one of the couple's children had run to summon them shortly after the warlock's arrival. Merlin cast a powerful sleep spell on them and left, praying that they would be safe from Uther's wrath. After all, they'd tried to capture him. The guards could vouch for them. Hopefully Uther would realize that this family wanted nothing to do with magic.
It was past midnight by now. The moon was high and the stars bright, but Camelot itself was almost silent save for the soft thud of Merlin's footsteps. He wasn't tired anymore, though he knew he'd suffer in the morning.
The warlock backtracked, first revisiting the old woman. She had crammed her possessions into a couple of bulging bags and was hovering anxiously by the door. Despite the comfortable warmth of a late spring night, she wore layer upon layer of clothing, presumably because it didn't all fit in her bags. She must be sweltering, but Merlin didn't think that the sweat gleaming on her brow came from heat alone.
By the time Merlin had gathered everyone—men and women and a half-dozen children accompanying their parents, one of them a babe in arms—the night was half-gone. They wouldn't reach Blaise's little hut until dawn. Merlin would be lucky to get three hours of sleep. Still, the sympathizers were watching him, so he forced himself to not sigh. Instead, he murmured, "Follow me."
They followed without comment until it became clear that he was leading them into the castle. "What do you think you're playing at?" one of the men hissed. His glower was intimidating, but it would have been more so if his toddling son wasn't sleeping on his back.
The idea had come to Merlin somewhere between his fifth and sixth houses. "The dragon's cave leads out of the city," he explained.
"Dragon?" a girl-child squeaked, clutching her doll.
"He isn't there," Merlin assured her. "I freed him months ago, and in return he promised not to hurt anybody. He's my friend."
"I thought that the dragons were all dead," the widow breathed.
"Not all of them. This one was kept alive as bait for Balinor Caledonensis, the last dragonlord."
"But he's not going to be there, right?" the nervous girl demanded.
Merlin hesitated. An idea had just occurred to him. Did he really need to escort these people all the way to Blaise's cottage? He still had Kilgharrah's scale. His reptilian friend could easily lead these poor refugees the rest of the way. Except it wasn't just the little girl who was afraid. Two of the sympathizers, the widow woman and a tavern serving maid, were in awe, their eyes wide with wonder at the thought of a surviving dragon. The rest of the little crowd was shifting from foot to foot, their eyes too bright in the half-moon's light.
"No, he won't," the warlock finally sighed, mentally subtracting another half hour from his estimated sleep time. He really needed to learn how to pause time while asleep. There just weren't enough hours in the day. "It's just a druid that you'll be meeting, that's all." Hopefully he sounded less morose than he felt.
They snuck through the palace without incident, much to almost everyone's bemusement. Apparently, the guards' reputation for incompetence had not diffused among the general public, which explained why so few people had attempted to break in. Merlin only had to cast one sleep spell, and the spell's target was so drowsy that he would have succumbed anyways within a few minutes.
Merlin only conjured his globe of light once they entered Kilgharrah's old cave. They needed it, for it was rather difficult to climb through the rocks even with illumination. Without, it would have been nearly impossible.
Through the cave they went, then through the woods until Merlin could finally make out the welcoming silhouette of Blaise's cottage.
It took the druid a few minutes to answer Merlin's knock. When he saw the crowd behind his pupil, Blaise raised his brow. "What exactly is this?"
"There's to be a raid tomorrow," Merlin explained. "These people were on Uther's arrest list. Can you shelter them, get them to your people?" He remembered something else then. "And I have to get a message to your people in the next few days. Uther's planning raids on druid camps, but he and his men haven't decided where or when yet."
"Will you know by our next lesson?"
Merlin considered. "I think so, yes. I'll try to send you a mental message tomorrow. For now, though…." He gestured at his followers.
"Come inside," Blaise told them softly. "Go home, Emrys. Sleep. I'll handle everything from here."
Merlin had wanted to hear that all evening. Smiling his thanks, he called upon his magic. Time froze around him.
A part of Merlin felt somewhat guilty about pausing time. It was one thing to use this magic to make his escape, as he'd done after dispatching the wraith. It was quite another to use it so that he could actually get some sleep.
In his defense, though, he was really, really tired.
Merlin held onto time for about a quarter of an hour before he had to release it. It wasn't as much as he'd hoped for, but extra sleep was extra sleep, and he needed all the extra sleep he could get.
Still, he could barely keep his eyes open the next day. "My insomnia's acting up," he told the scowling Arthur. "'m sorry. I just—" But here a huge yawn escaped his throat.
Arthur glared. He was in a foul mood that day, not at all happy about his father's planned raids, which he had apparently been ordered to lead. "Just stay awake until my room's clean."
"Okay," Merlin replied, deciding to interpret that as permission to take a nap once his chores were complete. "Right. I'll do that."
"You can quit nodding now, Merlin."
"Right." Merlin nodded, realized what he was doing, and grinned sheepishly. "I'll do that."
Arthur sighed. "This will probably take half the day," he complained, "and then we'll have to do trials. Those will probably last until the end of the week."
There was something strange about that, though Merlin had to think a few moments before his foggy brain could dredge it up. "Don't trials usually take less time?"
"Yes, but I'm trying to investigate each case more thoroughly than normal. Father doesn't want any of that sorcerer's allies to slip through the cracks, so I'll need more evidence to acquit them." His jaw tightened. "I'll not see some innocent burn just because a crazy spellbinder's taken a liking to me."
Merlin grinned at him. Arthur rolled his eyes as he stomped out of the room.
It took only a few minutes for Merlin to complete his chores. Magic was useful that way. With nothing else to do, he curled up on Arthur's newly made bed and went to sleep.
Arthur woke him hours later with a rough shake. "You're not Gaius," Merlin muttered, his thoughts still hazy.
"And that's not your bed."
"Oh." Merlin looked around himself. "I guess it's not." He gave his head a little shake as he stood. "How did the raids go?"
"They all vanished," Arthur replied. Merlin couldn't read his expression. Was it anger, confusion, happiness? "The only people we could find had been enchanted. Apparently that spellbinder showed up at their door last night to warn them about the raid. They summoned some guards, but the spellbinder bewitched them too and escaped. Leon's interrogating them right now."
"What? But if they were enchanted—"
"They won't be prosecuted, Merlin. Don't worry about that. Father just wants more information."
"Good." Now, what would he say if he really didn't know anything about this? "So how did the spellbinder know?"
"Gaius thinks it's scrying."
"Oh. That makes sense."
"Speaking of Gaius, he was looking for you." A wicked grin split Arthur's face. "When's the last time you cleaned the leech tank?"
Merlin's eyes bugged out. "I'm not here," he declared.
"No, you're not." Arthur grabbed his manservant's arm. "You're in the physician's quarters with Gaius, doing whatever disgusting task needs doing." And with that, he dragged the protesting Merlin down the halls.
It was, the warlock decided, completely unfair. Gaius knew that he'd been up late last night, knew that he'd been busy saving lives. He shouldn't have to do any of the older man's chores today.
Gaius was speaking with another man when Merlin and Arthur arrived. A patient, the warlock supposed.
Then the 'patient,' most likely noticing the prince's noisy entrance, looked up. He smiled. "Hello, Merlin."
The warlock gawked. "Will? What are you doing here?"
Alternate Chapter Title: "Wherein the Only Thing Uther Can Be Happy About is That at Least No One Knows About Him Accidentally Hugging That Blasted Sorcerer."
Next up: The Ealdor arc! Or the beginning thereof, at least. It should be up on September 10.
-Antares
