Sorry for any errors. I can no longer find them after going over the chapter so many times.

Still, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 35

A Brother Lost

Ranoue paced inside the medical tent. His heavy boots created a worn path in the dirt with each agitated pass. Back and forth. Back and forth. He couldn't stay still. Whenever he tried the memory of Mordred rose up like a tidal wave and crashed into his mind. the image of Mordred broken and bleeding. Dying.

Because. Of. You! Ranoues' soul screamed. He shook his head violently. He was stuck in this vortex of shock, self-loathing, and disgust. He never hated himself more than he did at this moment.

Ranoue honestly didn't know what he was doing anymore. He felt obligated to fight along side his fellow Knights, and Arthur and James vicariously, but he did not feel like this was where he was supposed to be. Ranoue felt deep in his heart that he should be in Camelot. The Army should be in Camelot, protecting her walls, her people and her secrets. More importantly Ranoue should be protecting his son Jesse, and not heating Arthur bath!

Ranoue ran his hands through his hair. He tugged ruffly on the dark strands. It caused flares of pain to spread across his scalp. The sting helped distract him from his warring emotions, if only for a moment. He frowned and stopped pacing. He stared down at James. He looked so peaceful. Childlike, even. Ranoues' throat tightened. He swallowed thickly. Ranoue was lost for words. These gods awful emotions burrowing into his chest, burning his throat and shredding his insides... this is what James is going to feel once he awoke to find his own brother slain.

Ranoue sighed. Ranoue sat heavily in the chair next to the cot James occupied. He rubbed his face tiredly and slouched back against the hard wooden chair. Ranoue believed whole-heartily that James' pain will be much more than Ranoues' ever could be. He loved his brother, unlike Ranoue, whose love was tainted by all the damage Mordred and Ranoue had caused each other. So in a way Ranoue had no way of truly understanding James and his pain. But he empathized.

Ranoue let his eyes roam over the young sorcerer. He was still very much unconscious. He hadn't stirred since they brought him in here. The physician had yet to show up and Ranoue was staring to feel exceedingly hopeless. He felt like there was nothing he could do, no where to go. He could do nothing... except...

Ranoue carelessly stood up and started to pace again. Anxiety and fear stired in his belly. He bit his bottom lip, warring with himself. It would be risky, for both of them. Almost too risky. Still, with the physician absent, Ranoue felt magic was the kids only chance to heal.

Ranoue knew very little about healing anymore. Taking life had become so established in his life after his wife died that to save a life felt foreign to him. A feeling he was positive Merlin struggled with on a daily basis. Merlin, a man who naturally wanted to preserve life, was now forced take it. Ranoue chose to open himself up to the possibility that Merlin wasn't the villain, but a victim and hero in need of support, not distrust and hate.

Ranoue glanced at the tent flaps, watching the shadows pass behind the fabric wall, waiting for someone to walk in. when no one entered, he focused back on James. Hesitantly, he put his hands over James unconscious form. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He shook off the fear that tried to slither up his spine. Slowly he let his magic flow. It started as a trickle from the center of his chest. His magic bled from his pores. His eyes flashed bright gold and his hands began to glow a soft green encasing James in a protective layer of novice healing magic. It was an alternative healing spell Ranoue had picked up from his wife. A spell for him to use in battle. It was for those warriors in battle whose talents were fighting and not healing.

The gash on James' head stopped bleeding but did not seal shut. That was either a very good sign or a very bad sign. Only time would tell. The wound on his side knitted together leaving a light pink puckered scare. Ranoue felt confident enough that he had healed the worst of his wounds but James was still unconscious. It both worried Ranoue, and gave him some relief. It gave Ranoue more time to gather himself and what he was going to say to his while he waited for him to wake up.

"That was quite impressive," a gruff voice praised from behind Ranoue.

Ranoue tensed. Slowly he lowered his hands and turned to face the man who had just witnessed him openly using magic. There was no way for him to deny it. Just because Arthur was occasionally okay with magic it, most definitely, did not mean he was free to use it.

"Easy their, my boy," The man steadied. Obviously sensing Ranoues sudden overwhelming feeling to flee, he continued in a an calm and even voice. "I am Giaus, the Physician."

Ranoue nodded respectfully, but kept his mouth shut and his spine straight. Giaus frowned. His gaze wondered to the cot behind Ranoue. He started forward. Ranoue watched the physician closely, his eyes followed him as he approached James.

"You did well," The old man praised again. "I haven't seen this kind of spell since I was a novice myself. It is a good one to know." Giaus nodded to himself. "Resourceful. I see I am unneeded." Giaus smiled at Ranoue.

Ranoue glanced down at the bag Merlin gave Darrin, who then gave to Ranoue. If this was the Guise he had heard about, the one who protected Merlin, then he needed to see what was in there. Ranoue had leafed through the continence of the bag just briefly, hoping to get his mind off of his brother, and he couldn't hold back the urge to go through Merlin's things. At first he was just desperate for a distraction. Then curious. But the more he read and the more he uncovered the curiosity morphed into fascination, intrigue and then alarming anxiety. He now understood why Darrin did what he did. Why Merlin did what he did, and what Morgana had planned. The content in this bag could be the very thing they needed, for what he didn't know, but something in him insisted that it was important.

Giaus walked past Ranoue. As much as he wanted to reach out and stop the old man as he passed by, Ranoue stayed rooted to his spot. The physician disappeared through the tent flaps. He melded in with the bustling Knights and servants just outside the tents flimsy fabric walls and false security. Ranoue sat down in the chair again. He picked up the back and started to go through the condense again, compelled to understand. He leaned back in the chair with his heels resting on the edge of the cot near James feet. He balanced on the back legs as he leafed through the familiar yet foreign information.

There was a map of a place he had never seen or heard of before, and he couldn't for the life of him know what it could possibly mean, and he refused to bring it to the Kings attention until he understood it and was able to explain it. He was close to putting the pieces together.

There were pages written about Morgana's visions, the very ones that prompted the start of her fall. It explained how she started to see the future in blips and flashes. First of Arthur's death by drowning, and another of him dead in his fathers arms. Soon her magic escalated into exploding objects and levitation. Soon her incomplete visions turned into full-fledged visions of the future. Morgana saw that King Arthur would make Guinevere Queen, despite knowing it would start a magical war, and it drove her mad. There were sketches of trade routs and fortresses. Detailed army ledgers and slave records. Both magic users and none magic users. Another page told of Arthur's bane and the full prophecy of Emrys, Avalon and Arthur. Ranoue read and reread the prophecy hoping that it would somehow change but the words didn't change. If what this says is right then Arthur was in charge of his fate and no one else. Only Arthur could get killed.

Ranoue switched pages. His fingers froze over the paper. It was a sketch of Mordred and Merlin. Side by side they stood facing front. Merlin wore no cuffs or collar, but the artiest was excruciatingly detailed and skilled. It must have been enhanced with magic. Merlin was covered in bruises, scars and blood, yet you could clearly see the look of challenge in his eyes. When was this drawn? He wondered. His eyes drifted over to Mordred. His brother stood as far from Merlin as he could, but there was no mistaking the hostility, or hate that seemed to ooze from the art. Ranoue stared at the sketch of his brother, sick to his stomach.

Mordred's eyes seemed to stare accusingly at him. Ranoue felt his eyes sting. The ink blurred together blocking his brothers image from view. As hard as he tried he could not hold back the flood. Hot liquid spilled down his cheeks against his will searing his face as much as his heart and soul. He whipped his tears with the back of his arm, drying his face with his dirty sleeve, no doubt smearing red on his face from the still blood dampened fabric.

"You just couldn't help yourself could you?" James croaked.

Startled, Ranoue leaned to far back in his chair and he fell to the floor. The papers, maps and sketches scattered around him. James sat up but nausea and dizziness rushed through him. He fell back onto the cot. It was there and gone just as quickly as it appeared. Once it passed James watched Ranoue with amusement. James chuckled softly but the action caused him to go into a vicious coughing fit.

Ranoue pressed his lips together and held himself in place to keep from leaving the tent. He didn't want to be here if he suddenly keeled over. Ranoue watched James wearily as he caught his breath. That was a mean though, he chided himself. Ranoue just feared the news he would have to deliver soon. It would erase all the happiness or peace from this kids.

Once James settled, Ranoue quickly gathered the papers and shoved them back into the bag. Quietly he put the bag on the end of James bed. He cleared his throat and then righted his chair. Warily he sat back down.

"It's alright," James frowned. "Merlin would have wanted you to know. Eventually." He grunted as he got more comfortable which was extremely difficult, if not impossible to do on this cot.

Ranoues faced screwed up in disbelief. "Somehow I doubt that."

"You'd be surprised." James smiled. "Merlin's fond of you."

"Fond of me?" Ranoue asked skeptically. "How am I supposed to take that?"

"However you like," James grimaced. Ranoue watched him silently. "Merlin is a strange creature, but he has his reasons." James sat all the way up and went to swing his leg over the ledge of the cot.

"Hey," Ranoue stood up and stopped James from standing up. "I think it best if you stay seated for a while."

"Why?" James gave Ranoue a funny look. "I feel fine."

"Just..." Ranoue faltered at a loss for words. "Stay," Ranoue pointed to the spot he sat.

James raised his hands in surrender. "Alright. Alright. I stay like a good dog."

"Good boy," Ranoue forced a smirk that morphed into a pained grimace. He took a deep breath and released it on a great gust. James looked at him with a raised brow. He sat silently on the cot, legs dangling over the edge and the blanket wrapped wound him. He looked round the tent as if looking for some one, or waiting for them. It broke Ranoues already crumbling heart.

"Where is Darrin?" James asked. His brows knit together in worry.

"Um..." Ranoue tensed. He swallowed back his fear and sat down in the chair across from him. "Listen, James," Ranoue started. He scooted his chair a little closer and leaned forward on his elbows and took a good look at all of James seventeen year old self. Only a decade younger than Ranoue, and he already knew all the pain the world had to offer. Ranoue was not much younger than James when his own village and family was taken from him. "Darrin," Ranoue bit his lip. He had to chose his words carefully. James tensed. His eyes moved over Ranoues face like a skittish deer. Ranoue cleared his throat. "Darrin chose to give us a head start." Ranoue continued. "He was a hero. He save us." Ranoue paused. "He saved Arthur."

James didn't react. Didn't so much as twitch as Ranoue told him his brother was dead. A film had come over James eyes. They sat there in silence for so long Ranoue thought James had gone into shock. James' eyes were cloudy and unfocused as a million thoughts raced through his young mind. Ranoue understood that kind of lose. It was a fiery inferno of emotional and physical agony that never went away.

"Did you hear me?" Ranoue asked, unsure if James was even listening.

James suddenly focused back on Ranoue. "How?" James demanded. "How did my brother die?"

Ranoue shifted in his chair. "I...i don't know, exactly, James."

James narrowed his strikingly blue eyes."Then guess." He snapped searingly.

Ranoue chewed his lip a moment contemplating what to say. He could give him some excuse about not seeing his death and that he had no idea what happened to his brother, but Ranoue did. He knew the Theron the Giants reputation. Most Druids knew of their kind and feared them. The abominations were revered by the high priestess's. They had a tendency to take their enemies heads, and use their teeth as jewelry. It was rumored they ate their victims hearts because their brutal nature made them unable to love and only hate.

Ranoue sat back in his chair, his hands resting on his knees. He gave James a long hard look before he stood up. James stopped him by grasping hold of Ranoues wrist. Ranoue pulled his hand away but James tightened his hold, bruising him.

"You cant just leave me like this," James begged. "You have to give me something. Anything." He pleaded. Ranoue glanced down at the wrist James held. James let go like he'd been burned. "Who killed my brother?" James pressed.

Ranoue sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked beyond the ceiling of the tent to the havens. Dear Gods, do I tell him? Ranoue asked himself. He looked into James light blue eyes. Oh, Gods damn it and forgive me. Ranoue sighed.

"The Giant, Theron," Ranoue shifted to face James fully. "He killed your brother." James nodded his thanks. He sat back down and gazed a the fabric wall of the medical tent, ignoring Ranoue entirely.

Ranoue took that as his hint to leave. He turned and exited the tent while he could. He spred one last glance at James as he left. What he saw worried him. There was no life in his eyes. He didn't move, or twitch. He hardly breathed or blinked. It was as if he shut down. Ranoue heaved a ragged sigh once he was out of the tent and submerged in the cold frigid air. It was a welcoming feeling on his over heated skin. He felt feverish. Ranoue wiped his brow and went off to find something to eat. Maybe it will help James, and Ranoue, to proses their loss after they had a full belly. Ranoue made his way to the cook. His aching body and cramping stomach finally made their self known as the smell of food registered.