AN: I'm worried about this chapter because it's darker than the rest. I actually changed the rating to T. It's also pretty long...I hope it goes over well with y'all!

CHAPTER 11: Rescue Attempt

Merlins' thoughts bounced around his head like dice in a cup. He couldn't stop thinking of my drawings and what they could mean. I'd drawn impossible things, things that couldn't possibly be real, but I'd also drawn actual events that I couldn't possibly have seen. And I drew him doing magic. He was sure I didn't understand the importance of my visions, though they disturbed me. He needed to find out more about seers. Did they usually have other magic? Sometimes? It would help to know who I really was too. Before I lost my memories, was I aware I was a seer? Maybe the accident had brought my seer powers to the fore somehow.

Then, his thoughts would ping over to Gwaine. His friend never saw a fight he didn't think he could win. It was just like him to stay behind so others could escape. Geraint was a good man to have at his side, because he was an utterly ruthless fighter. He would never leave Gwaine behind as long as he could raise a sword. But it was two against how many? For all Gwaine goofed around, laughed, drank, and flirted, nobody fought like him. Yet no man could beat an army on his own. Arthur was certainly taking the threat seriously. They were traveling now with ten knights, not including the king, and fifteen soldiers, a formidable force.

"What's going on in that head of yours, Merlin?" Arthur couldn't resist asking. "You haven't said a word since we left."

"I'm just...sick of these bandits hurting people is all." Well, that, and worrying about Gwaine's safety, and stressing about Mina's drawings. "Besides, I didn't sleep much last night. Some of us have to work for a living."

"Yes, I understand," said Arthur in a lofty voice. "Washing socks is so much more tasking than ruling a kingdom. Certainly takes more brain power."

"Not the way you do it," retorted Merlin instantly. Arthur hid a small smile, having gotten what he wanted.

The banter stopped abruptly when a soldier scouting ahead called back "Sire!" in a shaking voice. Arthur and Merlin hurried their horses to join him on the ridge, then froze in horror.

The were looking down at a round depression that probably used to be a large pond. Dense gorse filled most of it, but there was one large tree growing almost dead center. Hanging one on each side of the trunk were two bodies, suspended by the wrists and just slightly swaying. A nondescript man – average height, medium brown hair, average build – stepped out from behind the tree. His only notable feature was a scar that stretched from one corner of his mouth down his chin and neck and all the way to his collarbone. His voice was smug. "Hello, Arthur. I found some toys you left out. You really should pick up after yourself better."

"Sealgaire," hissed Arthur with malevolence. The mercenary was often a conduit Morgana used to hire footsoldiers and complete unsavory deals. He'd been a thorn in Camelot's side for a long time.

"You killed my figurehead, so I had to make myself known." He sighed theatrically. "I hate doing that. But, let's bury the hatchet, shall we? You can have your toy soldiers back if you come down and get them." He grabbed the one on his left by the chin and lifted its head. "This one's even alive, though he's a little worse for the wear because he really didn't want to answer my questions." Behind Arthur, Merlin sucked in a breath.

It was Gwaine, badly beaten, both eyes blackened and swollen almost shut, blood making a line down his chin from both sides of his mouth. "It's a trap, Arthur," he slurred. "Don't come down."

"He knows it's a trap, but he'll do anything for his men, won't you, little king?" Sealgaire gave a cold, cold smile. "Better hurry though." Casually, as if his actions were of no consequence, he grabbed Gwaine's shoulder in one hand and slid a knife into his belly.

Even in his fury, Arthur wouldn't destroy the horses to ride through the wicked thorns. Leaping from the saddle and pulling his sword, he bellowed, "Knights, dismount! On me!" and they ran into the depression. Bandits poured from the other three sides of the bowl, and others began to shoot crossbows down from the top. Sealgaire stepped back behind his men, laughing as the knights began to falter. But Arthur hadn't charged in without a plan. He had given a subtle signal to Percival, who tore through everyone in his way and cut down Gwaine and Geraint. Arthur himself systematically attacked each fighter in his way, slashing and spinning as he went. He struck one man across the belly, elbowed the next in the face, stabbed a third through the chest. He was an unstoppable force. Still, the knights were close to being overwhelmed until...the soldiers Arthur'd held back ran in from both sides, quickly cutting down the archers. Arthur had told them to range to each side, and now they attacked with a vengeance.

Forced to face knights in front of them and the soldiers coming in from the sides, the bandits soon fell or threw down their swords. But Arthur didn't stop. He continued to take down everyone in his path, controlled fury in every movement, until he was facing Sealgaire – the hunter – himself. But his opponent saw which way the wind was blowing and threw down his sword. "I surrender!" he called. If anything, that made Arthur even angrier. He pointed his own sword toward the one on the ground.

"Pick it up." Sealgaire just lifted his hands in the air. Arthur pushed the sword with his foot, gritting out, "Pick. It. Up." Sealgaire lifted his hands higher and went down on his knees. Seething, Arthur raised his own sword above his head.

"Sire," said Merlin in a voice that was both quiet, yet somehow carried. "Arthur." The sword shook in the king's hand but he didn't lower it. "Arthur, this isn't who you are. You're not like him. You're better." Merlin knew he was pleading, but he didn't care. "Arthur. Throw him in your dungeon, give him a trial, and execute him. But don't do this." Arthur's eyes shown with unshed tears, but his face was pure rage. "Please, Arthur."

"He's right," he ground out, his voice low and growly. "You aren't worth it." He turned to his men. "Secure him."

"Taking orders from a servant?" sneered Sealgaire, but Arthur was no longer looking at him.

"Arthur!" called Percival, and the king jogged over to where Geraint and Gwaine lay, Merlin his heels. "They're both alive," said Percival, who was helping another soldier hold a cloth against the wound on Gwaine's belly. Percival tipped his head toward Geraint, so Arthur knelt by the older man first. He was less beaten than Gwaine, but had two sword wounds, one in his upper chest and one in his leg. Everyone there could see that his injuries were fatal, but his eyes were open.

Geraint's right hand twitched. "Sire," he whispered, a mere thread of sound. "Arthur. Sword?" Understanding at once, Arthur put the hilt of his own sword in Geraint's hand, and a small smile graced the dying man's face. "Privilege," he whispered, then he was gone. Arthur bowed his head, throat thick, but he had other men who needed him. He couldn't look at Merlin yet, knowing there were tears tracking down his servant's face, and afraid he would lose his own composure if he saw. Instead, he moved over to Gwaine.

"His stab wound is shallow," reported the soldier who'd been helping. "And I don't see any other injuries except a bump on his head and...the beating. "I think, Sire, that he'll be fine."

"Here that, Arthur?" drawled Gwaine, opening his eyes. "You won't be rid of me yet." He blinked and rubbed his eyes poor, blackened eyes. "Geraint?" Arthur sat back on his heels and shook his head. Lacking the words to make anything better, Arthur clapped the knight on the shoulder and stood.

"We need to get back to Camelot."

I was standing with Gwen on what she called the upper bailey when Arthur's party came riding back. Gwen's face lit up first, seeing Arthur (that girl had it bad), but then she noticed four of the horses had bodies draped over them. "Oh, no," she whispered, and I grabbed her arm. We hurried like that to Gaius'. Gwen hustled in to help, but I felt lost and out of place. Story of my life lately, I thought. But I was dying to know what was going on. I stopped one dirty, tired soldier.

"What happened? Who's hurt?"

His shoulders slumped. "Dermot and Littles and Sir Geraint are dead. Sir Gwaine is injured."

My heart dropped. Barely able to choke out the words, I said, "thank you" and dropped my hand from his arm. I didn't know any of the men who had died, but I knew their loss would gut the people who had been kind to me. And Gwaine...

Unable to wait, I slipped into the room. Gaius was examining a stab wound on Gwaine's belly, and Gwen was carefully wiping blood from his face. Merlin was helping an injured soldier. "Gwen, I need more yarrow," instructed Gauis. She stood and offered me her cloth, so I took it and replaced her on the stool by Gwaine's side.

"That's a better sight than the last time I opened m' eyes," said Gwaine, startling me so I dropped the cloth onto his face.

"Oh crap, oh sorry." Some nurse I was. He smiled, just a little, and it was macabre on that abused face.

"Still rather see you than Arthur." I started wiping his neck, not knowing how to answer that. "This time, we got the real leader of the bandits who attacked you," he continued. "His name is Sealgaire, and he's in the dungeon by now. They are...allied with an old enemy of ours. But you don't have to worry about them any more." He was grimly satisfied. "They ambushed us, and we lost good men, but whoever is still alive for the bandits will scatter and flee now."

He winced and Gaius said, "I need you to drink this. There is stitching to be done, and you'll want to have finished this first." He helped Gwaine sip something from a small cup.

"He'll be sleeping in a moment," Gaius said to me, with a look I couldn't interpret. "And I'll be stitching. You'll want to step out for that."

I thought about protesting, but the fact was, I did want to step out. There was a fury bubbling up in my belly that I had never felt before. "I'm glad you're okay, Gwaine," I said, placing the gentlest kiss I could on his forehead. "I'll come visit later. I'm just going to go lose my temper now." Though my words were calm enough, I was seething, utterly boiling. I knew for a fact that the girl I had drawn had never felt like this. She'd never wanted to stab a man and watch the light go out of his eyes. She had never felt the need for vengeance; she was so much softer than I was now. This me had trained with a sword, knew how to throw knives. This me was the one who was making friends with all of the kind people who had helped me out. I suddenly decided I was done with that other girl; she was of no help with her remembered technology and cushy life.

I stalked back to my quarters, not noticing the look Gaius gave Merlin as I left, or even seeing how everyone got out of my way as I walked.

Once I was gone, Merlin gave some instructions to the final soldier he was helping with a minor wound, and Gaius sent the man away. "Merlin, close the door," he said seriously. He glance down at Gwaine, but the knight was out cold.

"What is it, Gaius?"

"Have you thought about the fact that Mina seems to be in the middle of everything that has been happening? When she was attacked, it happened to be where a patrol would hear her scream. And it was a small enough group that they could easily rescue her. She was injured, certainly, but not too seriously."

"Not too seriously?" asked Merlin in surprise. "She could hardly move for a few days."

"Yes, it was very easy to feel sympathy for her." Merlin stared at his mentor. "I'm just saying the memory loss has been bothering me. It seems a good excuse to stay in Camelot. Did you see that she was in the throne room when the man from the north gave his report, and when Arthur assigned people to track the bandits? Why was she there? And then, a few days later, Gwaine's party was ambushed. And now, so was a second party."

"That's awfully suspicious of you, Gaius," mused the warlock. "Usually I'm the one seeing plots and you are telling me to be cautious."

"I just don't like the coincidence of Mina's arrival and these attacks." Gaius tied off the last stitch and cut the thread. He looked up at Merlin's frown. "I know you like to see the best in people, and Mina is probably exactly what she seems, but Morgana has used tactics like this before. It can't hurt to be wary."

"I think you're wrong," admitted Merlin. "But it can't hurt to be wary. Gaius, I think she knows about my magic." He went pulled the drawings he'd taken out of the book he'd stored them in, missing Gaius' startled response. "I didn't have a chance to show you these before, but these are drawings she's made about her dreams."

Gaius paged through them until he came to the one that depicted Merlin suspending an ethereal ball. "Are there more?"

"Yes, but nothing else showing magic. Gaius, I'm going to make sure Mina stays in her quarters then tell Arthur our suspicions. I still think she's just...lost, but we have to be sure she's not a danger." Merlin was sad but determined, and Gaius felt a pang for the boy with unwavering optimism who had first arrived at his doorstep.

"Be careful, Merlin."

The warlock grinned. "I always am!" With those cheerful but patently untrue words, Merlin ran out the door.

While they'd been talking, I had burned off some energy stalking around the halls. I kept seeing Gwaine's battered face, and dark mask Arthur had worn as he'd rode in with the bodies of his men. I had no idea how I could help, but my temper wasn't abating at all. I thought again about the unhelpful dreams. They were just a distraction. Whoever I thought I'd been, now I was a woman on a mission, a woman with the tools and skills to fight. I may not be a two hundred pound man in armor, but I had abilities. It was time to put away the distractions. Moving with purpose, I strode into my chambers, pulled the drawings out of the desk, and threw them into the fire. That was when Merlin walked in.

"Lady Mina?"

"Aren't we past that by now, Merlin?" I grumbled, still staring at the fire. I didn't even realize that I was playing with the dagger that he'd given me from the armory to help me feel more secure. "Just Mina, or hey you, not lady."

"I need to know...can you tell me anything about the bandits we've been fighting?"

The seriousness in his voice hadn't penetrated my anger. "They're pitiful, loathsome, cowardly slugs that deserve to die!" I'm losing it, I thought. I sound like a cross between Shakespeare and Gordon Ramsey.

"You don't know where they get their supplies, or who sends them orders? Or why they would ambush a patrol instead of hide?" His voice was quiet, but intense, and I finally turned and paid attention.

"What? I don't know – how would I? I was hardly with them, and a lot of that time I spent unconscious." I rubbed at my wrists absentmindedly, where you could just barely see the lines the ropes had made. I looked at the man I was starting to consider a friend. "What are you asking, Merlin?"

"The bandits are acting out of character, starting with your capture. We're just trying to figure out why."

I stared at him. "Merlin?"

"I'm sorry, Mina. I think you should stay in your chambers for now." He stepped out,and though I didn't see him touch the door, it sprang shut and I heard the heavy lock turn.

"MERLIN! What the heck! Get back here, right now, Benedict Arnold, and tell me what's going on!" I kicked the door, but got no answer. Great, now I was furious, locked in my room, and probably had a broken toe. I couldn't even go check on the beautiful idiot in Gaius' chambers. This day sucked.