~4~ Vadĕ nočtũrno timőr
"You know what's in the far north-east?"
"Aye, I do." Merlin threw a spare shirt into his leather satchel.
Gaius watched the youth intently. "So you know what you're up against."
"Of course."
With a half-smile, Gaius passed the warlock a roll of bandages to take with him. "You are either very brave, Merlin, or very stupid."
"Let's hope the former," Merlin grinned.
The physician smiled fully back, but then suddenly looked worried. He turned and climbed the steps up to the balcony, where more shelves of books were kept. He picked one out and blew off the dust before returning to Merlin. Flipping through until he found the page he wanted, he set it down open on the table. There was a drawing of a cluster of buildings, and a tower in the distance.
"This is Mitheras. It was a grand city once, before a great evil swept upon it and drove away every inhabitant. To this day, the source of that evil remains a mystery, and even now people aren't sure if anyone moved back into the ancient walls. But the markings indicating where that messenger pigeon came from are unmistakable. Someone is indeed living in Mitheras."
"...But, don't they realize where they are? They must be mad to live there!"
"Things change," muttered Gaius, closing the tome. "Perhaps for Mitheras, the change was for the better."
That night, Merlin grabbed the magic book from under the loose floorboards beneath his bed: a gift from Gaius. He quickly found a spell that could eliminate his desire, and need, to sleep, at least temporarily. And, despite the physician's warnings on the risks of meddling with dreams, Merlin knew he had to find something to stop the nightmares for his companions. It would not do to be raided and not have the energy to fight back.
There were three powerful spells that removed dreams, good and bad, which were out of his current skill range. The fourth, however, was simple, effective, though only worked on those already asleep and dreaming. Which meant, of course, that Merlin would be the only one stuck with nightmares.
Gaius slept peacefully that night, unaware as to what Merlin had done for him.
At dawn, Balinor and two other horses smelled the warlock for food as he saddled them. Then he stood before the two stalls containing Smokie, the won silver mare, and Noble, Arthur's roan. The prince had put Merlin in charge of getting four horses prepared, but did not specify which horse he wanted.
In a split-second decision, he grabbed Noble's saddle. A hand fell on his shoulder and he jumped.
"No. I'll take Smokie," said Arthur, ignoring Merlin's startled reaction. "She's better for long distance. And take the smaller saddle. We travel light."
Lancelot and Gwaine entered the stables, geared up to go.
"Where is Elyan and Percival?" the warlock asked.
"They and Leon are going the other way. The pigeon messages from the south and south-east came from cities not two days distant from each other. While they investigate those two, we shall be checking the far north-east."
Merlin glanced at the knights before leaning close to the prince. In a low voice, he said, "You do remember what's in the far north-east, right?"
"The Perilous Lands," Arthur replied confidently, unfazed.
"At least the sunsets are breathtaking," said Gwaine, grinning, and then yawning widely.
The four of them rode through the Eastern Woods as the sun broke the horizon. All day they travelled, stopping only to rest the horses. They ate in the saddle, and by nightfall they were ready to collapse. In addition to the hard travel, they had the many sleepless nights to account for.
Merlin nearly fell from the saddle as Arthur finally called a halt in an aspen grove thirty miles from Camelot. The sun was golden on the western horizon, and if he wasn't so tired, he would have been able to appreciate its majesty.
"We can't risk a fire this close to Camelot," said Arthur, handing his reins to Merlin, who took them grudgingly. "If they see the smoke, we could be finished before we've even begun."
Merlin wanted to just lean against Balinor and sleep, but he forced himself to brush him and Smokie down before unravelling his bed roll and crashing on top of it.
Arthur followed suit beside a log. "Don't get too comfortable, Merlin. You've got first watch...Merlin?"
† † †
Icy stream water yanked out of his nightmare world, just in time to save him from another horrifying death in the hands of his deceased lover.
"Breakfast," said Arthur, dropping his empty water skin on the manservant's chest. Merlin dried his face with his blanket and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The other two were crawling from bed rolls as well.
"Who's Freya?" asked Gwaine sleepily. Merlin didn't answer.
† † †
It was obvious none of them had gotten any real sleep. From the back of the group, Merlin could see his companions swaying in their saddles. They were going at a slower pace, which was fortunate because one of them could dose off and fall from their seats at any moment. They remained at a trot mostly; the bumpiness kept them awake.
"We don't know where we're going, do we?" asked Gwaine, yawning.
"Is there even a city near the Perilous Lands?" added Lancelot.
"Mitheras," Merlin blurted. The others glanced at him.
The prince nodded. "That's right, Merlin." He massaged his eyes, and studied the map they had brought. "Yes, the isolated, dead city of Mitheras, right on the border of the Lands. More of a ghost town than anything, but there are still people living there—according to a pigeon." His mouth twitched. Then he squinted closer at the map, searching. "But there was a druid camp that Morgana stayed at a couple years ago. I want to check there before going to the Perilous Lands, to see if they have any word of her."
"What? You mean the camp that was raided and destroyed?" asked Merlin. "The druids wouldn't return there. And anyway, we're going in the wrong direction."
Silence.
"I know that!" Arthur snapped. "I just wanted to come at it from another direction."
"But we're going east," pushed Merlin, hiding a triumphant smile. "The camp was north-west of Camelot."
"Shut up, Merlin."
Lancelot turned and winked at the warlock, trying not to grin.
† † †
They turned in the right direction to the Perilous Lands and Mitheras, and found the ruins of a small abbey to shelter in for the night. They lit a fire to boil water for tea and they made a thin, bland stew with a rabbit Gwaine had managed to take out with a sling. At least it was hot.
After Merlin cleaned out his empty bowl, he started to stand, but Arthur shoved lightly at him before he could straighten. The warlock was unable to keep his balance and fell to his hands and knees.
"Oops," said Arthur, but his weariness flattened his words. "You have an actual watch this time, Merlin. Don't get too comfortable."
"Yeah, you told me that already."
Arthur paused. "I did?"
"...Yes."
Arthur thought a moment, then shrugged and crawled into his bed roll. "Wake Gwaine when the moon hits that pillar."
The three of them seemed to take forever to shut their eyes, desiring the sleep but wary of nightmares. Merlin, eager to use that spell that would remove his need for rest for the night, silently urged them to sleep.
Lancelot was the last to close his eyes for good. Merlin was tempted to try the spell while the knight was awake, because he was one of the only three living people who knew of the warlock's magic, apart from Gaius and his mother, Hunith. But he stayed his hand until Lancelot stopped blinking and his breathing slowed, and then waited until the three of them were thrashing in the clutches of personal demons.
Merlin closed his eyes, whispering, "Noň dörmĭunt."Magic spread its wings and swept through the warlock, warm and comforting. All at once, his eyes were free of ache and tiredness, and his head stopped pounding. His limbs were still sore, but they had at least stopped shaking. For the first time in in a long while, he felt rejuvenated.
Arthur was closest to him. Merlin crept towards him, making sure not to turn any rocks. The prince's forehead was already beaded with sweat, and he was grunting in fear. Careful not to touch him as he rolled over, Merlin held a hand over Arthur's face.
"Vadĕ nočtũrno timőr."
Arthur shuddered, and as Merlin recoiled and retreated, flashes of fire and blood flared through his mind, and he glimpsed what Arthur dreamed. They vanished as quick as they appeared.
Arthur's eyes opened a slit, and looked around sightlessly before shutting again. His breathing calmed, slowed, and fell silent.
A horse grumbled from its post, just out of the fire's light. Merlin ignored it.
Gwaine was next. Finishing with Lancelot, Merlin saw a snippet of what they both dreamed. When at last all was to be heard was calm breathing, a simpering fire, muttering horses and crickets, Merlin wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and prepared for a long, dull, sleepless night.
† † †
It was mid-morning when when Arthur finally shifted onto his back, and stretched his arms behind his head. He blinked and noticed Merlin staring intently into the dead fire pit, looking cozy wrapped in a blanket.
"...Have you been sitting there the whole night?" he asked.
Merlin nodded.
"Did you fall asleep?" There was a rise of warning in his voice.
"No." Merlin yawned. His spell to keep him awake had only just started to wear off.
Arthur crawled from his sleeping bag. "Well, you could have at least kept the fire going."
Merlin rolled his eyes.
Standing, the prince put his hands to his hips and turned in a circle. "It's mid-morning." No reply. Suddenly, Arthur looked puzzled. "I dreamt of you last night."
"Cute," said Gwaine, reaching for the sky from where he lay.
Arthur gave him a dangerous look. "It was only for a second, but...I was being attacked, and...you saved me."
Merlin guarded his expression.
"And then...the nightmare ended. Everything is blank after that...And I feel great!"
Gwaine stood up as Lancelot emerged from his sleeping roll. "Strange. Something similar happened to me," said the ruffian knight. "I was falling, and you grabbed my arm, Merlin. I remember nothing after that."
Arthur looked strangely at his manservant. "Anything with you, Lancelot?"
As the prince and Gwaine both turned towards the third knight, Lancelot saw the barely noticeable, but very urgent shake of Merlin's head. "Er, no, actually. I...didn't dream at all."
"Hm, perhaps because we are so far from Camelot, the spell is weakening its hold on us," said Arthur. He suddenly seemed even more spry. "Right, let's go."
"Where?" asked Merlin, yawning again and standing. Yes, the spell was definitely wearing off.
"There's a village about three leagues from here. We'll stop there and see how they are in regards to this curse."
"And a village means ale," put in Gwaine, grinning. "And gambling. How much gold do we have, Arthur?"
The knight received a second warning look. "Not enough to waste on wine and the roll of a dice."
"I wouldn't call it wasting..."
"Saddle up, men," Arthur interrupted. "You too, Merlin."
Now the action will begin. See you next week!
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Rough translations from Latin:
Non dormiunt: No rest
Vade nocturno timor: Go, fear of the night