Thanks to Lady Clark-Weasley of Books, Ikchen, Hogaboom and Siany-T! Whoop I'm going to Cardiff so no more updates for a bit!
The boy ran; his heart pounding; his blood rushing in his ears. His whole body shook with terror like a young sapling in a storm. Leaves and soil churned beneath his feet with each step as he flew across the ground. The forest whipped past him in a green-brown blur, occasionally extending tendrils of brambles or branches that ripped and tore at his clothes and skin. But the boy ignored the snagging pains, his mind was focussed on the running and that was it – there was no space for hurt.
Around him the trees were gnarled and twisted like wizened old men bent out of shape. They seemed to leer at him, casting ghastly shadows across the earthy floor, arching right up over his head and blocking out the moonlight. The boy couldn't even see a single star through the dense foliage despite it being a clear night. He felt impossibly alone.
A ghost of an owl hoot reached his ears, quietened by the suffocating silence of the deadened trees. It was nice to know that something was alive in such a horrifying place even if the bird that made the call sounded very far away. The boy was reassured because it meant he had not stepped into another world – yet.
The cave appeared before him like a great gaping mouth; a gash in the surface of the earth. If he was to describe it, the boy would say it looked like the entrance to hell itself. He slowed to a halt, his crunching footfalls quietening as he approached more tentatively. Now he was here he found he wanted to go back. But he couldn't, that wasn't an option, he was here to help. With his pulse thudding through his veins, the boy braved the entrance….and leapt back; terrified, as massive black wave surged over him.
The cloud swarmed past him like a torrent of water but did not hit him. Instead the river of darkness whistled by barely missing his body. It was then he realised that they were bats, thousands of bats flying out of the cave. They were so close he could feel the beat of their wings, the softness of their fur. But these bats weren't the only thing to come out from the mouth of the cave; a big shadowy figure stumbled towards him.
Scrambling to escape the stream of flying mammals the boy recognised the limping gait of the stranger and had to stifle a shout of relief. Instead he battled his way to the outer edge of the gush and into fresh, clear air. The figure followed.
"Father!" The boy's voice was breathless but pleased.
"We must escape!" The man barely acknowledged the boy, pushing past him roughly and heading off into the night.
"But Father!"
"Not now boy, there is no time." And then the pair vanished into the forest.
Thwack. The arrow thudded straight into the bull's eye of the target, the shaft shuddering with the impact. Another arrow followed in quick succession, not quite so accurate but still within the yellow.
Two young men lowered their weapons and smiled at one another – one slightly smugger than the other. The tallest of the couple had thick shiny golden hair and the other a dull mud brown that fell over his eyes. He was more bulky than the blonde, lacking the athleticism and sinuous physique.
"Ah think you'll find that I beat you again, Johannas," Arthur said, his tone arrogant.
"Just," Johannas replied, heading towards the archery target to retrieve his arrows. As he reached the first he realised that the feathers had been knocked out of place and sighed, annoyed. That would mean repairing this tail or fletching a new one. He noticed with a feeling of bitterness that none of Prince Arthur's arrows were damaged – not even bent.
"Yes, but just still counts. Fancy a rematch tomorrow?"
"Not particularly." Johannas hated playing the prince, he was just too skilled to beat and it was very degrading to lose time and time again.
"Ah, well, I suppose I'll have to ask Heddan if he wants to take me on. Now where is my servant? Merlin?" Arthur looked around, the manservant had promised to be there when they finished to pack away the equipment but he was no where to be seen. "Merlin!"
Just then the gates of the castle wall opened with a deafening creak and that caught both boys' attention. Arthur's head snapped round, his eyes focussed on the entrance and the guards who were operating the system. He hadn't heard of any visitors they were having today so why were the guards opening the gate without consulting him or the King? In irritation the prince began to stride towards the port cullis just as two figures entered.
One of the figures was tall and muscular, his broad shoulders shrouded in a murky brown cloak whilst the other was small and slender, he could be no more than a child of twelve maybe thirteen years old. Both shared the same unusual bronze coloured hair. Arthur wasn't sure if he'd ever seen such a vivid colour before. He noticed that the older of the two walked with an awkward limp.
"Who goes there?" he called, puffing out his chest with authority. The man looked at him with an almost blank, emotionless expression before his face broke into a smile.
"Prince Arthur?!" his voice was strong with a powerful undercurrent.
"Yes, I am he," Arthur replied, curtly.
"Why don't you just say 'Yes, that's me'?" there was a murmur by his ear and the prince was startled to see Merlin standing beside him, a wry smile on his lips.
"Good!" the man lurched forward, his hand outstretched in a gesture of friendliness, "My name is Fabien." The prince took the proffered hand.
"Good day to you. May I ask what your business here is?"
"Ah, my lord, my son and I come to the castle in search of trade. I am a trader."
"Of what?"
"Anything," Fabien gestured with his arms to demonstrate his point, "If you have something I want or I have something you want then I am willing to strike a deal. Unfortunately your rather paranoid guards forced me to leave my wagon of wares outside with my poor horse that is in dire need of a drink and a rest. We have travelled many miles to be here."
"I think you will have to talk to my father, King Uther. Come, I will show you the way. Merlin, can you fetch their wagon and stable their horse."
As Merlin approached the tethered horse, it was sweating quite badly and its head with hung low to the ground – a sign of exhaustion. The animal was still attached to a large wooden wagon which was jammed full of objects. There was furniture: chairs carved with beautiful figures on the legs; a table with a painted surface; a large engraved oak chest; and a splendid mirror outlined with an intricately crafted frame made of wood but with ingrained threads of gold and studs of jewels. Merlin was astonished that Fabien would leave such a thing with no protection. However, as he reached out to run a finger along the surface the warlock realised his mistake. A pair of snapping jaws sprung out of nowhere so fast that he only just had time to pull his limb back. The ferocious eyes of a dog met his with such malice that he was certain for a moment that a demon possessed the animal. But then the moment passed and the canine was normal once more – just a guard dog – his hackles raised and teeth bared, protecting his master's treasures.
"Well hello to you too, boy," Merlin gasped, getting over his surprise. The demon dog continued to stare at him with wary eyes. It growled, low in its throat. "I won't touch your stuff, okay? I'm just taking you to a safer place." He moved away from the animal, back towards where the horse was tethered and untied the rope. Then he began leading the tired beast into the castle grounds.
Once the animal was unharnessed and placed in a stable, Merlin decided to deal with a wagon and the satanic canine. He was unnerved by the never ending gaze of the animal. Its expression as it stared at him was almost human – like it had conscious thought. Merlin stared back, his sapphire eyes piercing the brown pools of the creature. He wondered, after his experience with Elsu, whether he could move into this dog's body – not that he particularly wanted to – but it would be interesting to try. Just as he was contemplating the decision he heard something.
"I see you've met, Guardian." The boy who had been with Fabien stood behind Merlin. This was the first time the magician had really looked at the youth. He was skinny, as stated before, with hands and feet that looked too big for his small frame. Although he did look older than Merlin had first thought, maybe fifteen. His was skin was as white as snow; it looked particularly unnatural in contrast to his russet hair. Dressed in a green tunic and brown trousers the boy, despite being malnourished, looked reasonably well off. That must be thanks to his father's trade.
"Guardian? I guess that's appropriate," Merlin half laughed, "He nearly had my hand off when I tried to move the wagon."
"Yeah, he can be a bit vicious. That's only recently though, when he was younger he was friendlier."
"Puppies usually are."
"No," the boy shook his head, "Its only recently he changed after….Well anyway, what's your name?"
Merlin pondered the child's abrupt change of subject but decided to ignore it. He doubted whether it was very important.
"Merlin," he said. "What's yours?"
"Bedi," the youth replied, "Short for Bedivere."