Title: The legend of a Warlock who Served the Once and Future King
Author: Lamiabellascrittore
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of the characters. If I did there would be a season six, seven, eight, and so on, and a movie, of course.
Warnings: Mild Torture- Random Enemy Death.
Spoilers: Possibly.
Summary: Merlin and Arthur go on a mission that was supposed to be strictly reconnaissance. However, nothing ever goes as planned, and they get separated. Merlin is kidnapped by Morgana and Arthur must find a way to rescue his ever loyal servant. But, will Arthur still save Merlin after he learns Merlin has magic? This story is building up to the battle of Camlann. The sequel to this one.
A/N: Okay, so this is my first Published Fan Fiction. Please read and review, if you liked it I will continue. Please be kind. ;) The more you review the more likely it is that I will continue, this story and more. I'd love your creative input, ideas and more! Sorry this chapter is so short :)
I hope you enjoy...
Chapter Six:
Running out of Time
Arthur looked up from where he sat on the ground waiting for the Saxons to fall asleep. The moon hung vigilantly in the clear night sky. The air was crisp and still. It was well past midnight and the enemies camp was silent except for the soft snores and the occasional murmurs in sleep.
It was a three days ride to Camelot, he had realized with frustration hours ago and had been impatiently waiting for his chance. He needed a horse. Cautiously, he got up from where he was hidden behind the fallen tree, and with the stealth and year of warrior training he slowly made his way over to the man keeping guard for the night.
Arthur came up behind him, one gloved hand over the Saxon's mouth and brought the blade of his dagger around and sliced across his neck with one fluid motion. Ignoring the coarse hair of his beard and the slickness of his blood, Arthur held onto him to keep his cries silent. The man struggled for another second before falling limp, dead. Only then did Arthur release him. His stomach churned dangerously. He hated to take a life, but he never hesitated to kill in defense of someone else or himself, but killing a man whose back was turned left a bitter taste in his mouth that no amount of mead could cure.
Squaring his shoulders he headed to the horses. They snickered in greeting; two more excited than the others. He recognized them immediately as his own. Hroegen, and the other was Merlin's mare, one of Arthur's other sturdy horses, Llamreil. He easily mounted his horse and lead the way out of the enemies camp, taking all the horses with him. He took extra care in being cautious.
After about two hour riding the dark, he released all of the horses except Hroegen and Llamreil, and continued on his way. He was determined to reach the gated of Camelot the day after tomorrow. It was the earliest he could making it with out killing the horses. He road on at top speed for as long as he could before fatigue forced him and the horses to make camp. He tossed his bed roll on the ground along with the saddle bags Merlin had packed. He paused on his walk to choose the fire pit. That feeling of anxiety and concern came back. But this time it was like an all consuming despair. He shook it off as best he could and dropped the bed roll and saddle bags unceremoniously on the ground and turned on his heel and went to gather wood for a fire. He stacked it hazardously in the center of the small clearing next to his supplies, before pulling out his flint and stone from the saddle bags Merlin had packed. He was luck that all there supply's were still there.
He tried to light the fire, but it was more difficult than it looked. Merlin did it almost effortlessly. Again and again he tried to get a spark to catch, all the while muttering about a certain useless servant being able to light a simple fire but he, the king, could not. After five minutes with no results, Arthur was about to give up, when suddenly a spark caught and a small fire started to grow. Arthur stifled the urge to shout his victory and tossed the cursed flint stone into the saddle bag by his feet. He ate a quick meal. An apple and some bread and then climbed onto his bed.
Within minutes of Arthur lying down he was out cold. His sleep was restless and filled with all manner of gruesome sights. Images flashed behind his eyelids, visions of blood and torture. Snippets and bursts of pictures accompanied by an all to familiar scream of a man he hopped never to hear utter such agonizing sounds.
Arthur woke with a start, the screams still lingered in his ears, but beneath the horrible screams of his best friend was the maniac laugh of his half sister, Morgana Pendragon.
It was still extremely dark, so Arthur tried to get some more sleep, but no matter what he did to convince himself, he couldn't. For each time he did he was plagued with the visions that flashed all to vividly behind his lids.
Mental images of Merlin, hands bound above him, hanging boneless. Morgana, eyes shining with malice, holding a whip that dripped with blood. Merlin's bloods. The vision which was most potent was of Merlin screaming and arching away form The Witch's touch, as if it burned him like fire.
The scream that was ripped from Merlin's throat was what had woken him. It was a sound he had hopped to never associate with Merlin. The sound chilled him. It was a scream of the likes of which he has never witnessed... it was more of an inhumane roar, than mans hoarse scream and it sounded as if it came from right next to Arthur.
It felt so real. It made his blood run cold and his heart freeze in his throat; and when the scream abruptly cut off, with Morgana's laugh echoing in the silence, Arthur no longer had any doubts that Merlin was in Morgana's hold.
That was what had Arthur jumping to his feet. He gathered his supplies and suffocated the fires' embers with dirt and rocks. He jumped atop Hroegen and led Llamreil at a light trot until the sun peeked through the trees and he broke into a steady gallop. Arthur was pushed forward by an urgency he hasn't ever felt. Morgana Seemed to be mocking him, tormenting Arthur with one warning.
Merlin was running out of time.