"Fighting Sleep" (Rose)
The flaw in my plan was, I slept in well past the time when Gaius leaves to make his rounds. Sparing no moment for much of anything besides changing out of my nightclothes, I set out to find him. I travel to the lower town where he should be, but I am getting the same answer from everyone. He hasn't shown up. I do not know what would keep him from fulfilling his practice.
A funny feeling sweeps over me, and I swoon slightly, conveniently in the middle of the street. I look around and see others dealing with similar symptoms. Some even have sweat on their brows and flushed cheeks, significant signs of a fever. I make my way back toward the castle, and notice that all but a few display the same exact characteristics.
The wheels of my mind turning through their fatigue begin piecing together things giant mess of a puzzle. That woman last night must have cast a spell over Camelot. I must find Gaius and tell him what happened. He will most likely have more answers than I can come up with any time in any state of mind.
Every few meters, I have to rest against a wall or anything stable I can find. Every fiber of my being is begging for sleep and weighing me down with each step. I channel my magic from deep within me and wake myself up. I cannot win this battle while fighting sleep off, too. I need to locate Morgana as well. If there is to be an attack on Camelot from this mysterious woman, she is surely to be spared, and possibly even aware of the plans. Of course, these things would occur when Arthur and Merlin are away.
'Come on, Merlin,' I think in desperation, although I know our link cannot extend across such distance.
'Camelot needs you ... I need you.'
"Only When it Matters" (Merlin)
Naturally, we had to go traipsing about the spooky castle. Arthur finds an arch leading to a corridor that is dilapidated and has a flight of stairs leading downwards to what I assume is the dungeon.
Sure enough, once we reach the end of the staircase, there is a cage-like door. And of course, when it swings open it has to creak obnoxiously. I don't appreciate the feeling this place gives me at all. We make our way further into what surely used to be the dungeon by the looks of it- chains and cobwebs draped on the walls and barred doors. There is a makeshift fire pit in the middle of the space. Arthur brings his fingers to the ash, "Seems that part of Joseph's story is true," he observes, "Probably just travelers passing through."
I turn my head about in the direction behind us, just to get a better look when I see them. "Or maybe not," I suggest, staring at the seven dark knights aligned in a triangle.
As the rest of them turn around, the Knights of Medhir draw their swords. This is not going to be good...
Arthur's eyes are wider than their breastplates, and his lip curled in a ridiculous manner, his entire face showing bafflement. If this was a brighter situation, I would have laughed my head off. Instead, as the... things... begin swinging their swords, metal clashing against metal repeatedly, I'm dodging around making sure my head stays right where it is- which, in the end, finds me on the ground almost immediately as one tries to slice through me.
One of our knights comes to my aid, and I catch Arthur's near miss, my heart virtually stopping when the blade just about tore his stomach open. He evades the maneuver and strikes back, knocking the dark one's sword away and plunging his sword point into its gut. When I think he's done it, the knight straightens and growls at him. His attack did absolutely no damage.
They begin sparring again and another tries to run me through as I slide to my left, barely getting by with my back against one of the brick pillars near the cell walls. Arthur sticks his sword in yet one more knight, and the same thing occurs, except this time, his blade remains stuck in the knight's torso. He tries to yank it free to no avail and another goes to chop his arm off.
I secure a sword, call out his name at the perfect moment, and toss him the weapon. I watch as he bravely fights them off. "Run, Merlin!" he screams, mid clang.
"No!" I yell in protest, charging forward to stand behind him. He shoves me away from the action.
"Will you do as I say?" he asks roughly.
I stand by the barred door from which we entered, waiting for something to happen so we can make our escape, my every instinct demanding I use magic. Arthur kicks one away and begins to back up. This is my chance.
I mutter a spell, the ceiling crumbles as the knights regroup and head for us. I pull Arthur back, and we run for our lives.
Back out in the open air of the forest, we catch our breath, panting like thirsty mutts. "What happened to your arm?" he turns to me, asking through huffs of breath.
"Oh, it must've caught on something," I pull at the ripped material of my jacket.
"Let me see," he throws his sword in the ground.
I take off my jacket and find the tear went through my shirt ... and my upper arm. He peers at it with something close to a smile, "Your first battle wound," he releases my arm, and I hiss at the bleeding mark. "Here," he shreds at his own shirt.
"No," I object, "No, don't ...You'll ruin it." But the harm was complete.
"Don't worry," he comforts me in the way only Arthur can by adding, "You can mend it." He wraps the fabric around my cut, still breathing hard. "Did anyone else escape?" he turns his eyes to the place from which we came. I shake my head as I slip my limbs through the armholes of my coat. "We need to get back to Camelot, gather reinforcements," he says before taking off for the horses. We never leave a mission- only when it matters- and right now, all we can do is saddle up and ride for home.