A TRICK OF THE LIGHT
Chapter Thirty Five
"Magic is secret and secrets are magic, after all."
(Erin Morgenstern)
-x0x-
Gwaine was startled to find that a dash of magical vigour was quite enough to alter his perspective on the crowded state of the citadel. Gone was the sense of panic, as he stood in the doorway of his chamber. Gone was the woozy feeling, and the muddle in his head. His senses were sharpened, but not in a manner that threatened to overwhelm him. The world and his wife were camping on the knight's doorstep, but all he felt was concern. Moving aside, he beckoned to the nearest family. There were twelve of them, all told, from a tiny red-haired infant to a bent and bewildered old grandfather.
"Come in," he said. "Make yourselves at home. I don't need it right now. Besides, I can bed down in the guardroom if I have to. Truly," he added, when they stared at him in weary confusion. Once they realised that he was serious, and began to collect their meagre belongings, he slipped away, keen to escape their gratitude. 'Thank you' was always such an awkward sentiment, in his experience.
Robin had already passed through the damp, unsettled throng, heading away from the main thoroughfare and deeper into the heart of the citadel. Gwaine hurried after him, full of purpose and glad to be useful again – no matter how peculiar it felt to be following a man who knew he was there and chose to ignore him.
Overhead, little wisps hovered close to the ceiling, almost as though the sparks from the flickering torches had been granted a life of their own. He wondered at the fact that so many were inside the building but guessed it had much to do with the foulness of the weather. Curiously, he felt no surprise when one of those cheeky sprites circled down to hover just above his shoulder, glowing cheerfully and trying to pretend that the two of them had never parted company.
"Caught up on all the gossip, have you?" Gwaine demanded. "Nothing better to do than follow me around again?"
Pest flared in agreement.
"As I thought. Good to know my place in your priorities." Gwaine's tone was gruff but his eyes crinkled with amusement. Truth be told, his heart was glad that the wisp had chosen to seek him out again. "We're on another mission, Pest," he continued under his breath. "Or maybe it's the same one. Don't ask for the details. I couldn't explain if I tried. Would you believe we're tailing a sorcerer? Got to try and stop this storm." Putting it into words, however basic, didn't make it sound any less ridiculous – but Gwaine's life seemed to be filled with ridiculous things these days, and he had to admit that he liked it that way. He was no stick-in-the-mud, content with a dull existence. He was a knight, and what was a knight without a quest? Just a fellow in a fancy costume, playing with swords in the practice yard, he thought dismissively.
Wait – where had Robin gone now?
This section of the castle was older and not so well maintained, with dusty rooms and a network of cold, dark corridors. Only the hardiest refugees had chosen to set up their sad little camps here, and their conversations were subdued as they wrangled over mouldy bedchambers and deep alcoves full of cobwebs. Gwaine paused and held his breath, listening intently. There. The sound of confident footsteps, moving away to the left, duplicated by a strange little echo. Robin's stride was very much a representation of his character. There was no mistaking it. Gwaine (and Pest) turned left as well, leaving everyone behind them – or so the knight assumed.
Hastening forwards, he caught sight of a bright flash of colour ahead of him; not one but two figures standing in the middle of the corridor, their conversation backlit by a guttering torch. One of those figures was Robin. The other was…
"Merlin?" Gwaine whispered. "Here?"
He was pleased to see his friend looking so much better, but shocked to find him in such an unexpected place, when he should have been safely in bed.
Said the pot to the kettle…
Gwaine was just about to call out in greeting when he remembered Robin's strict instructions and his own solemn vow. "Whatever you see – whatever I do," the sorcerer had said. And Gwaine had promised, on his honour, not to reveal himself. But… Merlin? Of all people?
And yet, why not? Now that he thought about it, Merlin did have a definite knack for stumbling into the midst of every dangerous situation that befell them.
Moving closer would betray his presence. Instead, Gwaine ducked into a nearby alcove, squeezing in between a stand of ceremonial armour and the damp stone wall. At the same time, Pest disappeared through a gap in the visor and began to explore the hollow metal suit with interest.
Frustrated by his inability to hear what the two men were talking about, or even see their expressions in the dim light, Gwaine studied their body language instead and attempted to draw his own conclusions.
Robin, normally so fluid, was standing quietly with his arms folded, head on one side and no sign of agitation in his bearing. Merlin, by comparison, was a bundle of restless energy. Gwaine could relate to that, and his suspicions were aroused. Here, then, was another example of Robin's magical remedy in action – or I'm the Fool, he thought to himself. Merlin's hands were gesticulating wildly as he spoke, and he danced around Robin, clearly dominating the conversation and desperate to spark some kind of reaction. Gwaine couldn't help but be impressed by Robin's steadiness. The sorcerer simply waited until Merlin ran out of words, before placing his hands on the younger man's shoulders and talking him down with that same quiet manner – and a fitting rhyme, no doubt.
Merlin drooped for a moment, as though his exhaustion had returned, and then drew back up with an air of forced determination that made Gwaine clench his fists in sympathy. What had just transpired? Whatever it was, he knew that some kind of decision had been made.
The two men set off down the corridor together. Gwaine tapped on the suit of armour. "Pest! For pity's sake, get out of there. We're leaving."
-x0x-
Merlin had fully intended to search for Gwaine's tiny friend. It seemed a simple task but he was soon bewildered. Too many people; too many wisps. His brain was still buzzing and everything seemed so bright, not to mention unbearably loud. One voice was particularly insistent. Emrys, it repeated, over and over again. Emrys, can you hear me? Is something amiss?
He swatted at the air around his ears. Ineffective, but satisfying. Oh, bother Gaius, the voice continued. He must have fumbled the dose. Emrys. Merlin!
"What?" said the young man grumpily, halting in the middle of a crowded hallway. Everyone around him fell silent. "What?" he repeated in a whisper.
Subtle, said the secret voice. It sounded amused. I think we need to find a quiet place to have a proper conversation. Let me guide you.
"Yes, please," said Merlin earnestly.
It was more of a 'push and pull' feeling than a set of directions. Merlin followed it carefully. As the hubbub receded and the crowds thinned out, he began to feel much better. His heart was still banging but his head was clearer. Now he knew where he was going, and who was likely to be waiting for him when he got there. Robin? Is that you? Please say yes, he added plaintively.
"Well, of course it is," said Robin aloud, as Merlin turned a corner and almost bumped into him. The jester was standing beside a dying torch and the low light cast eerie shadows across his features.
"You look like a ghost."
"You look like Death," Robin retorted. He stood back and surveyed the young man, with his arms folded. "Stand still."
"I can't. Gaius slipped me something and now my thoughts are slippery…"
Robin shook his head as if to say: oh dear. "Then we shall have to work with… this." He waved his hand regretfully in Merlin's general direction.
"I haven't found Pest. I need him as a tunnel… A channel. A link, to the other wisps. I know what to do," Merlin gabbled excitedly. "It worked with Arthur and Percival. If I can only convince them… but there are so many. Still, we need them all. What do you think?" he begged, when he realised that Robin was staring at him in silence, waiting for him to stop talking. And moving. And panicking…
Robin grasped him by the shoulders. "I think, at last, we have everything we need, precisely where we need it to be."
"Is that another riddle?" Merlin sighed. "Because my brain…"
"It's the truth. I promise." Robin's smile was golden and strange in the torchlight, but Merlin felt comforted.
"What now?" he asked, placing himself entirely in the jester's hands.
"Now?" Robin sounded both nervous and excited. "Now we arise to the skies…
Come wind, come snow;
I dare thee to blow.
Do thy worst, send a blizzard
For we have a wizard!
A crude little ditty; not one of my best – but I thought, perchance, it would rally our spirits," he explained, clapping Merlin on the back.
"Oh, good," said Merlin bleakly. "Magical humour."
-x0x-
Gwaine continued to lag behind with Pest as they ascended three more levels. Outside, the wind was howling like a tortured soul. Gwaine tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand – Not Losing Robin Again. Up here, in the North Tower, they were truly alone, for any high point would be considered a foolish place to linger during such a terrible storm. "Foolish – and so here we are," he complained to Pest, as both Merlin and Robin slipped through a narrow doorway that led to a final, twisting set of stairs. Gwaine knew exactly where they were heading. He had been here once before - with Bree, as a matter of fact. He had hoped to impress her with a stunning vista. Instead, all he managed to do was scare them both silly. Heights. Not his thing, apparently. The stairway led to a narrow ledge around the base of the spire. It was suicide to think of setting foot out there tonight. Surely even the craziest soul would falter…?
Gwaine took a deep breath and began to climb.
He trailed his hand along the flaking stone wall, trying to steady himself. Each new turn made him feel increasingly dizzy. He could hear Merlin's voice, and knew his friend was rambling nervously, as was his habit in terrifying situations. All at once, a sharp blast of air filled the stairwell, freezing him to the spot.
Merlin and Robin had reached the top.
What now?
Gwaine tiptoed onwards, wondering just how far he could climb before Merlin noticed him. Reaching the top, he was met by a deluge of fat, wet flakes. The air was so bitterly cold that he could barely take in a breath without searing his lungs. He pulled up his tunic to cover his mouth and nose. Pest ducked behind him, pulsing unhappily. "Stay back," Gwaine urged, in muffled tones.
Inching onto the ledge, he squinted through the blizzard and saw that the two men had moved around to the other side of the spire. Carefully – ever so carefully – he shuffled round to a point where he could spy on them without being obvious. It actually helped that the snow was so thick – if I wanted to look on the bright side, he thought with disgust. He could see, but not be seen.
And what he saw made his heart almost stop for a moment.
Robin was glowing. No surprises there. The man was a sorcerer, after all. But Merlin's eyes…
Oh, mercy.
Merlin's eyes were glowing too.
