A/N: Sorry for the delay. Here's finally a new chapter, though. Enjoy :)

Chapter Nine: Surrounded by Enemies

The next morning came and Arthur almost wished he'd just not woken. Everything hurt. It was a deep pain that bored right into him. Arthur had been wounded before, but this was different. It wasn't just the pain, it was the paralyzing haze that fell over him. He could barely think straight anymore. There was a pull at him, getting stronger and stronger. It scared Arthur to fall over that edge. There would be no way back.

Leon again pushed him on the horse's saddle. Arthur's hands trembled so violently, he couldn't hold the reins at all. He was slumped over, one arm wrapped around himself, the other hand desperately holding the saddle's pommel. Leon led the way and as soon as Arthur's destrier moved, his world tilted into agony. Each of the horses' steps jostled him and pain raged through him. They rode for an eternity. Arthur couldn't tell the difference when a minute ticked by or an hour. Slurred pain smeared over everything and he wondered why he was even hanging on anymore.

He was only rattled from his darkness, when a yell reached him. Arthur blinked his eyes open. He saw Leon as he turned around on his horse, looking at something behind Arthur. The knight's jaw set and determination glinted in his eyes.

"Hold on!" he ordered Arthur.

Then Leon spurred his horse. If it had been agony before, it now was torture. Arthur couldn't breathe around the pain as Pomers fell into a gallop. He grasped the saddle's pommel as they raced through the forest, yells and the sound of hooves following them. It didn't take long and Arthur couldn't hold on anymore. He just couldn't.

"Leon," he gasped.

The knight turned around to him. He must've come to the same conclusion because Leon now cursed colourfully. He slowed down the horses. Arthur gasped in painful breaths of air. Meanwhile, Leon already pulled his sword and directed his horse past Arthur.

"Leave," was all Arthur could rasp out.

The knight didn't listen. Sword in hand and a snarl on his face, Leon faced their attackers. Arthur caught a glimpse of their pursuers. At least six men on horses, Arthur's sluggish brain supplied. Their swords glinted in the light and Arthur's heart sank as he saw the deep red colours of Camelot. He had hoped it would be Saxons not his own men that would take him down.

The stubborn knight beside him rode to meet the men with his sword. The sound of metal clashing with metal rang through the forest. Horses whinnied and men yelled. Arthur watched as his last knight fought and he could do nothing. Leon managed to strike down one man in a spray of blood. The remaining men continued to slash at the knight furiously. Arthur's hand automatically wandered to his sword, only to find his side empty. His sword still lay in the great hall in Camelot if Morgana hadn't just destroyed it.

One man struck his sword at Leon. The knight dodged but couldn't stop the other man as he rammed a shield into this side. Leon yelped as he fell from his horse and crashed to the ground. Still dazed, he managed to roll the side and in one fluid movement sliced his sword at one of the horse's legs. The animal whinnied in agony as if collapsed. Its rider fell as well. Leon was already above him.

Arthur couldn't watch any longer as suddenly one of the attackers was right in front of him. He hadn't even seen the man coming at him. The man slashed his sword at Arthur. He tried to dodge, but quickly overbalanced. The king yelped in pain as he impacted hard with the forest floor. His vision whitened shortly as pain wracked his body. A whimper on his lips, he curled around his side. Arthur's vision wobbled violently. He spied Sir Leon as he, in a flurry of swords, fought two men at once. So far away.

Arthur's thoughts couldn't follow. He felt the cold forest floor beneath him and the warm blood at his side. His breath came in short puffs. Suddenly there was a shadow over Arthur. He looked up and his heart hammered in his chest as he saw a man, sword in hand. A swoop of fear cut through him and he tried to push himself away. Instantly, the stab wound in his side flared up and Arthur released a yell of pain. The man was upon him and with a jolt of horror, Arthur recognized him. Sir Geraint, one of Arthur's best knights. Now, Sir Geraint's eyes were clouded over and milky as he raised his sword. Arthur stared up at the man and the sharp blade in his hand. So, this was how it ended, Arthur thought numbly and pressed his eyes shut.

There was the sharp sound of steel against steel.

Arthur's eyes flew open. He stared up at the back of a man who had stepped in between the king and that deathblow. Geraint slashed at the man but was blocked again. Now, the man peered at Arthur and said, grim smile in place,

"Hullo, Princess. I see you don't need Merlin to get into trouble."

"Gwaine?" Arthur breathed out in surprise.

The knight didn't reply anymore. Too preoccupied by trying to not get cut in two by Geraint. Gwaine, though, was just as skilled as Leon with the blade. He parried another stab from Geraint before he slashed his own sword through the air. Geraint gasped in pain as his left shoulder got hit. Protected by his armour, there was no wound, but he still lost his balance and stumbled. Gwaine took a step to the side, brought his sword up, and let it sing through the air. This time, it brutally cut into Geraint's neck, almost decapitating the man. Blood gushed from the deep wound and with a gurgling sound falling from his lips, Geraint crashed to his knees and fell to his side, dead. Gwaine didn't hesitate. Swiftly, he joined Leon and together they fought against the three remaining men.

With wide eyes and his heart racing in his chest, Arthur watched his knights fight. His trembling hand still clutched at his wound and he could barely get a breath in. Leon struck down another one while Gwaine stabbed at his opponent, wounding the man. Arthur felt how his own arms gave in and he sagged to the ground. He stared up at leaves and a blue sky. Limply, his hand fell from his wound. He coughed and there was suddenly blood in his mouth. That can't be good, he thought drowsily, but somehow couldn't summon the appropriate worry. His thoughts swam and sloshed around in his head. He coughed again and more blood seeped from his lips. By now his mind spun and made him sick. And he was so tired. Maybe he should just take a nap. The clanks of sword against sword were gone by now. He should probably tell Merlin to wake him up later tomorrow. Then again, the lazy manservant was always late anyway. In any case, Arthur didn't see why he shouldn't allow himself to fall into that inviting darkness.

.+.

The next time Arthur came to, it was to dim light and a faintly crackling fire nearby. He blinked his blurry eyes open and took in his surroundings in upcoming confusion. For some reason, he wasn't in his own chambers in Camelot. Instead the rough canvas of a tent greeted him. His brow furrowed as he stared up at the blue fabric. Not Camelot red, but dark blue. So, this wasn't his own campaign tent. Where the hell was he? What had happened?

Arthur tried to sit up and was instantly punished by a sharp pain in his side. He gasped and flopped back down in his cot. The pain brought memories back. Morgana! She had invaded Camelot. Arthur gritted his teeth in anger. She had… that witch had put a curse on his people. With a twinge in his chest, Arthur remembered how Guinevere had used her dagger on him, trying to kill him. And then… A cold chill ran down Arthur's back. He'd been stabbed, hadn't he? He'd been… dying. His own knights had tried to kill him. Arthur could barely breathe around the lump in his throat. His eyes started to burn traitorously. Growl on his lips, Arthur pushed that horrible feeling away and stubbornly blinked the tears from his eyes. There was no place for a sentimental fit right now.

Again, he tried to sit up. This time, he used a bit more caution. His side still ached horribly, but he was decidedly not dead. The blanket fell from him as he sat up and Arthur carefully pulled up his tunic. He found a bandage wrapped around his waist. Carefully, his fingers brushed over the fabric. Expertly done. But by whose hand? Neither Gwaine nor Leon were really that apt in first aid. And to be fair, Arthur suspected that even Gaius, with his considerable knowledge as a physician, would not have been able to save Arthur from that deep a stab wound.

"So, you're up."

Arthur's head shot up at the dry voice. Gwaine entered the tent, a bowl in his hand, and stepped closer to Arthur's cot.

"I…" Arthur croaked out, voice rough.

Gwaine flopped down on a chair and eyed Arthur warily. Brusquely, he pushed the bowl into Arthur's hands and drawled,

"I should probably get Leon. He's been quite worried."

Confusion still tugging at him, Arthur stared down at the bowl in his hand. It was filled with hot vegetable soup. At the smell of it, his stomach rolled and Arthur hadn't even noticed how hungry he was until now. Hastily, he took a sip from the bowl.

"What the hell happened?" he asked in between gulps of soup.

Gwaine had lazily kicked back in his chair and slouched in a decidedly un-knightly fashion. Arthur was much too preoccupied with his food to berate the knight.

"Well," Gwaine replied airily. "You were out of it for a couple of days. And before that? I guess I saved your neck is what happened."

Arthur peered at the knight. His memory was hazy, but he did remember Sir Geraint. Carefully, he put the bowl down in his lap and scanned the sharp frown on Gwaine's face. Arthur cleared his throat. Then he whispered sincerely,

"You did. And I thank you for it."

A sigh tore from Gwaine's mouth. That was the only reaction Arthur got from him. An awkward silence followed and the hint of disapproval never dropped from Gwaine's face. Arthur returned to his soup.

"Is Leon alright?"

"Yes," Gwaine informed curtly. "Got a nasty cut in his arm. But it's been taken care of."

The knight's gaze wandered back to Arthur and he furrowed his brow. "So, Leon told me Morgana waltzed into Camelot? Again?"

Arthur threw him a dark look at the casual tone of voice. Gwaine coldly ignored that and simply arched an eyebrow at him. Tightly, Arthur replied,

"She used magic and enchanted the people of Camelot."

"How original," Gaine scoffed. Then he mused, "By what Leon told me, you're quite lucky to have got out of there."

"Yes," Arthur had to admit. "Actually, the wound… I should be dead."

Gwaine peered at him and didn't contradict him. Arthur narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the knight. He placed the now empty bowl on the small table beside his cot. Now that his hunger was staved, he once again let his gaze wander over the unfamiliar tent. This was all a bit strange. His eyes flipped back to Gwaine, suspicion burning hotter.

"Where are we?" he demanded to know.

"Druid camp," was Gwaine's tight reply.

"What?!"

Arthur wanted to shoot up from his cot. As soon as he tried, blinding pain cut through his side. With a groan he sagged back down and painfully curled around his wound.

"Yeah," Gwaine mused, unmoved by Arthur's agony. "Probably shouldn't move around at this point, Princess."

Arthur blinked away the tears of pain that had shot to his eyes and cursed under his breath. Darkly, he growled,

"What the hell are we doing in a Druid camp? They're magic!"

"Well spotted," Gwaine mocked him.

Arthur glared at him murderously. The knight shrugged, decidedly unimpressed by the king's lost temper.

"I swear to God," Arthur hissed at him. "This can't be true. Do you even know what you've done? These are sorcerers!"

Gwaine simply frowned at him disapprovingly. Arthur growled. Didn't the man understand in what danger they were? The druids probably sided with Morgana. Who was to tell at this point? Arthur's gaze jumped to the tent's entrance, expecting a deranged sorcerer to burst in and slice them both open with magic any second now.

"Sheesh," Gwaine said impatiently. "Calm down, will you?"

"We're in enemy territory!" the king snapped at him in outrage.

Gwaine rolled his eyes and drawled, "Sure. That's why they went out of their way to heal your ungrateful arse, didn't they? So evil."

"What are you talking about?!"

The knight sighed deeply as he took in the angry snarl on Arthur's face. Eventually, Gwaine said, "Arthur, you've been basically run through with a sword. You said it earlier, that's normally pretty lethal, don't you think?"

Arthur's whole body stiffened with the implications woven around Gwaine's words. He stared at the knight, eyes wide. Voice suddenly hoarse, he asked,

"What does that mean?"

"Well, the Druids are known for their powerful healing magic," the knight supplied colourlessly. "I suppose you can put two and two together."

Arthur froze over as if he'd just been doused in a bucket of ice-cold water. Shock rushed over him. It was quickly followed by a wave of rage and Arthur thundered at the knight,

"You let them use magic on me?!"

Gwaine watched with cool eyes as Arthur's temper spiralled up. In the end, he shrugged his shoulders and sneered, "You know what? I'm going to fetch Leon. I'm not in the mood to deal with one of your tantrums."

With that Gwaine got up from his chair. Arthur threw him a furious glare and barked irately,

"Gwaine!"

The man didn't care at all that the king's fury had fallen on him. On the contrary, Gwaine threw Arthur a venomous look. Then he turned and just left the tent again, leaving Arthur to the silence of the tent and his own infuriated thoughts.

Arthur took in steadying breaths of air, trying to calm himself. Anger still rolled around him. It was, though, just there to mask those strands of panic. They coiled around Arthur, choking, and he didn't know what the druids' magic would do to him. His gaze flicked over his surroundings and he felt incredibly tense now that he knew where he really was. Druids? Arthur held his aching side as he sat up and managed to put his feet on the ground. Even that little exertion made him dizzy. He knew, though, he needed to get away from here. No magic-user could be trusted. Milky white eyes, clouded by magic, danced through his mind. Morgana had proven once again that magic was nothing but a source of wickedness. Morgana and Merl- Arthur shook his head. The Druids were no better.

Before Arthur could muster the strength to even attempt to stand up, the flap of the tent's entrance was moved again. He immediately tensed, eyes flying to the person entering. Arthur relaxed a bit as he saw Leon's pale face.

"Sire," the knight said, relieved smile curling his lips. "You're awake."

"Leon!" Arthur said urgently. "Gwaine said this is a Druid camp. What are we doing here?!"

Leon stepped a bit closer to Arthur. There was a bandage around his right arm, only half hidden by his short-sleeved tunic. Contritely, the knight said,

"It is. The Druids were willing to help us. I promise, we are not in any danger from them, My Lord."

Instantly, a sharp frown appeared an Arthur's face and he snapped, "I find that hard to believe!"

Leon sighed and tiredly sank down on the chair beside Arthur's cot. He ran a hand over his face and for the first time Arthur noticed how incredibly exhausted the knight looked.

"I'm sorry, Sire," he whispered. "I didn't have much of a choice. After we got ambushed, you… You weren't in a good way at all."

Arthur's anger deflated as his thoughts were drawn to his injury once again. Slowly, the reality of it all pressed down around him. In a quiet voice, he whispered,

"I was dying."

Leon released shuddered breath of air. "Yes."

Arthur's gaze wandered to his knight and he asked, voice no longer sharp, "Then what happened?"

"Gwaine helped me defeat the attackers," Leon said softly. "He knew that the Druids were around somewhere close. He'd been searching for them, you see. That's why he was in the forest in the first place."

A confused frown creased Arthur's forehead. "Okay… So you what? Brought me to them?"

Leon nodded. "There wasn't much else we could do. You were…"

As the knight hesitated, Arthur reminded dryly, "Dying?"

"Well, yes," the knight sighed. "So we decided to ask the Druids for help. We were fortunate that they didn't refuse us."

Arthur stared at the other man contemplatively. In the end, he had to accept, "And they did, didn't they? It was them who treated me. They saved my life."

It wasn't really a question anymore, yet Leon inclined his head and whispered, "That, they did."

Arthur sucked in a deep breath of air. His head swam with swirling thoughts. It was such a foreign concept, he had to taste the words on his tongue,

"They saved me with magic?"

"I am sorry, my Lord," the knight whispered, throwing Arthur careful looks. "It was either that or… you would've surely died. Even with their help for some time your condition was quite grave."

Arthur's fingers twitched as he heard it. As if someone had doused him with ice water, he could barely think. He wasn't even sure anymore that it was rage that coiled tightly in the pit of his stomach. Magic was always the work of the devil. Wasn't it? Yet here he was, healed from a mortal wound. Contaminated and cursed. Or blessed? Arthur gritted his teeth, the urge to yell in frustration rising. The defeated look on Leon's face kept him from lashing out. Resolutely, the king pushed the burning confusion away. This wasn't the place.

"Great," Arthur eventually said, going with a sarcastic twang. "Now I'm indebted to Druids."

Leon shrugged helplessly. "Well, better than dead. Right?"

Arthur let his face fall into his hands. "I guess…"

The knight grinned slightly, obviously relieved that Arthur hadn't bitten his head off. The king sighed deeply and threw Leon a morose look.

"Why was Gwaine trying to find the Druids?" At Leon's arched eyebrow Arthur added, "Earlier, you said Gwaine was around because he was searching for them."

"Oh…" Leon twisted his hands nervously, throwing Arthur an unsure look. In the end, he whispered, "Well… Gwaine was… You see, he was trying to find Merlin. He thought the Druids might know something."

Hearing that sorcerer's name was enough to make Arthur's stomach twist painfully. His thoughts jumped to Morgana and… Agravaine. Arthur's fingers curled into fists and he was trapped in a strange mixture of emotions. There was no way he was going to examine any of that. So, Arthur replied tightly,

"I see."

Leon awkwardly cleared his throat. Then he decided, "I should probably talk with Menw. Let him know that you're awake."

Arthur threw him a questioning look.

"Menw is the leader of these people here," Leon explained. "Can't say that he was especially thrilled to help us. But at least he hasn't tried to curse us."

"How fortunate," Arthur sighed, sarcasm still bending his voice.

"Try to get a bit more rest, Sire," Leon advised, before he left the tent again.

.+.

"It looks much improved," the Druid healer decided as he prodded the reddened skin around the wound.

Arthur frowned down at the harsh injury in his side. He could clearly see where the sword had entered him. For what it was the red gash at his side was small and looked suspiciously harmless. The wound had been sewn together, but it still smarted horribly deep inside him whenever he moved. Still the healer seemed to be satisfied with Arthur's recovery. He carefully applied a salve to the wound before he wrapped it up again. There weren't many more words exchanged between king and healer while the man took care of Arthur's other injuries. There was a nasty cut on his back, a smaller one at his temple, and the rest of his body was mottled with bruises. Arthur crinkled his nose as he looked at the huge dark bruise that decorated his shoulder. It took some time, but then the Druid seemed to be finished with Arthur. Wordlessly, the old man shuffled from the tent, but not before having handed Arthur a rather foul-smelling tincture.

Arthur pulled a face, but downed the mixture in one go. Moving gingerly, he slipped into his tunic again. His thoughts were drawn to Camelot. His stomach knotted up as he wondered what Morgana would do to his people. To Guinevere. A shudder ran down Arthur's spine What was Morgana doing to his wife and the rest of his people? Arthur could only pray the witch wouldn't harm anyone. He ran a hand over his face and winced as he disturbed the cut in his temple. The faces of his knights flashed in his mind's eye. Bile rose in his throat as he remembered their calm faces as they had slashed at him. Arthur shuddered. He couldn't leave Camelot to Morgana. He had to free his people.

If only he knew how.

The rustling of the tent's entrance pulled Arthur from his dark thoughts. Blood red light of the setting sun washed shortly over the tent's interior. The man who had entered was dressed in a greyish, long cloak, Druid garb. Arthur automatically tensed. Harsh look on his crinkled face, the Druid scanned Arthur. There was a black symbol tattooed into the man's left temple. More tattoos ran over his neck, but where hidden behind a long white beard. Gwaine and Leon stepped into the tent, but not even their presence managed to unwind Arthur's nerves.

"My Lord," Leon said and gestured at the Druid. "This is Menw. Leader of this Druid camp." Turned to Menw, he added, "Please, meet Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot."

Arthur scanned the Druid and carefully kept all his upcoming suspicion from his face. He inclined his head in greeting and said politely,

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Menw. I thank you and your people for your hospitality."

Menw didn't look in the least bit impressed with Arthur. Instead, a sneer was on his face as he replied brusquely, "I am no lord."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man's rude, almost aggressive, behaviour. Again, he kept his displeasure from his face. It certainly wouldn't be smart to enrage the magic-user, not when Arthur was incapacitated and surrounded by more sorcerers. His vulnerable position did not sit right with the king at all. Still, his tone was bland as he said,

"Be that as it may, I still am thankful that you showed my men and me kindness when you didn't have to."

Menw sniffed non-committally and gestured for them to sit down at the small table in one corner of the tent. Arthur's temper already bubbled up dangerously as the Druid dared to order him about. Again, though, he didn't voice it. Instead, he got up and, Leon grabbing his arm in support, Arthur made it over to the table. He kept all pain from showing on his face as he sank down in one of the chairs. Leon and Gwaine slid into the seats at Arthur's side while Menw, still looking like he'd smelled something foul, took the chair across the table.

"Ninian tells me you're recovering quite well from your wounds," the Druid said coolly.

Probably the healer, Arthur deduced. "Yes. I feel much improved."

The Druid nodded sharply and Arthur thought he saw something like disappointment glinting in his eyes. The man had secretly hoped for Arthur to succumb to his injuries, hadn't he? Arthur gritted his teeth, but didn't comment. He wouldn't be the first magic-user who wished death upon the king of Camelot. At least he didn't actively try to help along. Small mercies, Arthur thought wryly.

"That is good to hear," Menw said and they both knew it was a lie.

"Don't worry," Arthur said, cold smile on his face. "We won't trespass upon your hospitality for much longer."

At his side, he saw Leon shift nervously, but he ignored the tension. Menw threw the empty smile right back at Arthur and said,

"I assume you'll be busy attempting to reclaim your kingdom?"

Deep in his polite tone, scorn was hidden. Before Arthur could snap at the man, Leon piped in, "You heard about Camelot?"

Menw's icy gaze switched from Arthur to the knight. Arrogantly, he said, "The powerful spell the Lady Morgana used to overthrow you was hard to miss. Quite impressive as well. The Triple Goddess truly must favour her."

Under the table, Arthur's fingers curled into tight fists, nails biting into his palms. He struggled to keep his composure. Arthur's voice was tetchy as he inquired,

"Do you know of a way to break her spell?"

Menw barked out a cold laugh. "No."

Whether that was the truth or not, Arthur couldn't tell. Gwaine kicked back in his chair and sighed.

"Shame," the knight hummed.

As Menw's attention wandered to Gwaine, the frost melted a little bit from his face. Arthur narrowed his eyes irritably.

"If you truly seek to destroy Morgana's magic," the Druid supplied. "I have to warn you, it won't be an easy feat. Morgana is a High Priestess and possesses powers few can rival."

Gwaine ran a hand through his hair and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Great. Doesn't make it any easier."

Menw's eyes flashed to Arthur and he suggested politely, "Maybe you shouldn't have incurred her wrath in the first place."

Arthur wished he could just lunge over the table and punch that arrogant Druid right in the face. His blood boiling with anger, he glared at the man. Unfortunately, with violence he wouldn't achieve anything here. So, Arthur mastered his hot temper, even though he could still see the mocking glint in the Druid's eyes. Keeping his voice even, Arthur asked,

"Who is Emrys?"

That at least managed to wipe that haughty look off Menw's face. The Druid leader's eyes widened slightly and he sat up a bit straighter.

"Where did you learn that name?"

Arthur leaned a bit forward in his seat, gaze cutting into the Druid. "So you have heard of him?"

Arthur could feel the questioning looks of his knights on him as well, but he didn't pay them any heed. Menw smoothed his face into an unreadable mask. His initial reaction had given him away though.

"You will be hard pressed to find a Druid who doesn't know of Lord Emrys."

Lord Emrys? Who was the man? 'He has left you,' Morgana had thrown at Arthur triumphantly as if it were a great loss. Arthur certainly had never met an Emrys. Why would this lord side with him?

"Wait…" Gwaine now butted in. "What're you talking about? Who's Emrys?"

The knight's blunt manner was usually annoying, but this time Arthur appreciated how it painted an irritable look on Menw's face. Arthur cocked an eyebrow at the Druid, demanding an answer as well. The Druid leader shook his head, but then replied caustically,

"I told you Morgana has powers that few can rival."

"So?" Arthur frowned at him. "Emrys can?"

Menw sneered at him. "Lord Emrys doesn't rival her powers. He far surpasses them. Since the dawn of magic itself, there has not been and never will be a greater sorcerer than Lord Emrys."

Arthur stiffened as he heard that and a jolt of panic shot through him. A sorcerer, after all. This Emrys was an enemy, then? Why had Morgana talked as if he were Arthur's alley?

"I hope you don't come to some daft conclusions," Menw hissed, as if he had read Arthur's thoughts. "As much as it pains me to say, Lord Emrys is not your enemy, Arthur Pendragon. He is your protector."

Now, that painted a sceptical look on Arthur's face. "What?"

Menw rolled his eyes. "The emergence of Lord Emrys has long been foretold in an ancient prophecy. Lord Emrys is the great protector of the Once and Future King. For only with the help of Emrys can the king succeed in uniting the lands of Albion and bring peace and prosperity to its people."

Arthur's head swirled as he heard this, confusion knotting up his thoughts into a mess. Before he could react, Gwaine leaned forward in his seat and questioned, a bit breathless,

"An ancient prophecy? Are you saying Arthur is that king? And… Emrys is an all-powerful sorcerer?!"

Menw inclined his head and said stiltedly, "Yes. Lord Emrys has revealed himself to us not too long ago. While his reasons for choosing Arthur Pendragon remain nebulous to me," He threw Arthur a snide look. "I still trust in Lord Emrys' wisdom and will follow. Why else do you think we offered refuge for Uther Pendragon's own son?"

"But Emrys is a sorcerer?" Arthur said sharply.

"Of course that is the only thing you're interested in," Menw said derogatorily. "Your hatred for magic has blinded you to the truth. One day, you will understand; without Lord Emrys, you're nothing."

Arthur's hands balled into angry fists as Morgana's words were thrown at him yet again. At this point, he much rather wanted to throttle Emrys than ask him for help. The Druid leader was neither surprised nor impressed by Arthur's lost temper. He threw him a disgusted look, then he got up from his seat. Before the Druid could leave, Gwaine asked, staring at Menw with wide eyes,

"Where can we find Emrys?"

"That," Menw said imperiously. "I cannot tell. Only one thing is certain: if my Lord does not want to be found, you will never see him."

And with that, the Druid swept from the tent.

.+.