I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts (dee lee dee) There they are standing in a row...

Oh, hi! :D

~6~ Voices On the Wind

Stubborn, Merlin also refused to see a physician. The money was needed to buy horses, not look after his leg, he said. He knew enough from Gaius's teachings on how to find simple herbs that would take care of infection and pain. Now, however, he just wanted to rest.

The tavern they entered was loud and stuffy, but it had cheap rooms and half-decent food. After leaving Lancelot's horse and Smokie with a shifty stable boy, they grabbed a table inside and ordered drinks. None but Gwaine could rest comfortably – they constantly watched, and were watched by, the other inhabitants.

"Ah, I do believe I see a game of Black Jack starting up," Gwaine said cheerfully. He glanced at Arthur, expectant. The prince reluctantly gave the knight a small amount of coins, but at Gwaine's disappointed expression, he rolled his eyes and doubled it. Then the ruffian was off, bellowing a challenge. He was welcomed by the locals whole-heartily.

Merlin yawned, which started a chain-reaction with the rest of the table.

"Strange," said the prince, covering his mouth. "No one here seems to be affected by the nightmare curse."

"Are we, still?" Lancelot's question got shrugs all around.

"There isn't a sober man in here," Arthur observed, frowning. "I don't think there's much use asking questions."

Cries of triumph and despair exploded from the Black Jack table. Before the company could see who was winning, four women, skimpily dressed, stepped into their view, battering eyelashes. Two surrounded Arthur, another started to massage Lancelot's shoulders, and the fourth sat down uncomfortably close to Merlin.

The warlock was bombarded by a strong smell of onions, but he smiled politely, albeit awkwardly, and avoided eye contact. By the others' barely concealed expressions, their lady invaders didn't exactly smell like fresh daisies either.

When she smiled, Merlin saw yellow teeth, one missing. She scooted her seat closer and put her hand on his, but the warlock quickly withdrew his arm and tried to ignore her. Lancelot, he noticed, was gently but firmly removing his interloper's hands from his shoulders, or at least trying to – she kept putting them back. Arthur was attempting to keep the other two at bay, but one had sat on his lap and another held him in his chair from behind. Merlin thought he saw something moving near Arthur's pouch at his belt.

"You're cute," said Merlin's unwanted companion.

The warlock suddenly realized that the woman behind Arthur was cutting away his money bag. He opened his mouth in warning just as his own invader put her hand on his leg and squeezed his knee, his injured knee.

"Hey—yowch!"

The table was startled into silence, and then the tinkle of coins hitting the ground sang in everyone's ear. With a cry Arthur was on his feet, sword out, and both of his lady intruders squealed. The one behind him dropped the money pouch she almost made away with. Lancelot stood and shoved his masseuse away. Merlin tried to do the same, but fell over, his leg weak and pained. He landed with a crash.

Now the whole tavern was silent. As Merlin stood, red-faced, Arthur confronted the thief. She hastily picked up the money pouch and gave it to the prince before scurrying away with her companions.

There were no other taverns in the village. The prince's party would have been forced to sleep under the stars again if they left. So they stayed, and the landlord gave them a free round of drinks in apology for the attempted theft. Arthur kept a hand on his sword hilt from then on.

For the next hour, they watched as Gwaine gave the occasional reassuring thumbs up, or a notable avoidance of eye contact. Over that time, Merlin became more and more uncomfortable and stifling hot, almost feverish. He told the others he was going to go out for some fresh air and left the tavern.

Outside, the sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the small settlement. As it vanished behind the treetops, Merlin emerged from the woods with a small pouch of herbs. Back at the tavern, he found Lancelot and Arthur holding Gwaine and another Black Jack player back from swinging fists.

"Cheatin' scum!" the local snapped. "I rip yer eyes out!"

"You're but a poor loser, my 'friend,'" replied Gwaine. Arthur tightened his grip on the local's shirt as he tried to lunge at the knight. Spittle flew from the man's mouth. Gwaine chose that moment to calmly stand straight, pull away from Lancelot's hold and smooth his clothes. "Fine. I'll do the mature thing," he said, striding away. The local again tried to lunge at him, but the landlord intervened and promptly kicked the man from the tavern, quite literally.

As Gwaine passed, he hoisted the enlarged sack of coins and winked at his companions.

Too tired to care, Merlin headed up to the room he and Arthur were to share, tripping and limping up the stairs in his exhaustion.

Opening the door, he heard the prince come up behind him, and they both scanned the small space. There was a precarious table balancing a water pitcher and bowl, a stool, a tiny fireplace (being one of the 'best' rooms), and one bed, with two pillows and an extra blanket.

The prince and manservant stared at the narrow bed and its even narrower mattress, and then at each other with a look of 'not a chance in Hell.'

"I'll take the floor, then, shall I?" said Merlin, to Arthur's grim nod.

† † †

Thankful that there was at least a fireplace, Merlin heated water and used the herbs to properly disinfect and numb his leg. Wrapping his wounds in fresh bandages, he put away the remaining leaves before making his floorspace as comfortable as possible. He unravelled his sleeping roll for extra cushioning to have with the inn's blanket and pillow.

The door didn't have a stopper, and Arthur didn't trust the place anymore, so right in front of it is where Merlin eventually laid down. His hip and shoulder soon started to ache on the hard floors, but he kept thinking of how he'd slept worse, and closed his eyes.

Sleep came quickly. As did the nightmares.

† † †

Despite his weariness, Arthur found himself unable to fall asleep. He was used to more comfortable mattresses, and this one was more lumpy than old cheese curds. His pillow was flatter than a pancake, the sheets were scratchy, and the room had a constant breeze whispering in through a crack in the window. He was more cozy sleeping out under the moon. It wasn't helping that soon after falling asleep, his servant started groaning in distress. Knowing that waking him wouldn't do much good, Arthur tried to ignore him by covering his ears with his pillow. It was pointless.

"Mm...my fault..."

As mumbles became words, Arthur couldn't help but listen to what Merlin said.

"No...no, Da..."

Arthur sat up, curious. Merlin mentioned once that he had grown up without a father, just as he himself had lived without a mother.

"...My fault...no...my fault."

"Merlin?" Arthur swung his feet off his bed.

"I killed...no...Da..."

The prince crept forward and crouched down beside his servant, who was beginning to sweat, and started to nudge him lightly. "Merlin."

"I...sorry...don't die...'S my fault!"

"Merlin!" Arthur grabbed the youth's shirt and shook him vigorously. Merlin's hand snatched out and grabbed Arthur's wrist. With a gasp of air, the manservant woke, a fearful, almost animal look in his eye.

Arthur sighed as the haunted look faded. "Finally. You...er, you were disturbing my sleep."

"Oh. Sorry, sire."

A small jerk of his head signalled the prince's surprise. There was definitely something wrong; Merlin didn't even give a witty comeback, and he was the only one Arthur tolerated such insolence from.

As he straightened to return to bed, he heard Merlin sigh and saw him wipe away a bead of sweat, or was it a tear?

† † †

There were few hours left before dawn when Arthur finally slept, and dreamt. Merlin eliminated his weariness with a few quiet words and stood, stretching out the stiffness.

This time, it was harder to pull Arthur from his nightmare. Like he had to reach into a much deeper pool, the use of more magic was necessary to penetrate the barrier between the world of reality and dreams. Eventually, he did succeed, but he frowned, thinking about the heightened resistance and difficulty since last time. As Arthur's breathing evened, Merlin left the room, shaking the visions of the prince's nightmare from his mind, only to hear the moans and screams of other inmates caught in the clutches of night demons. He shivered at the haunting sounds. Morgana's curse reached far indeed.

Abruptly, he paused. Didn't Arthur say the people seemed unaffected earlier? Why would they now, all of a sudden?

He exited the inn and wandered the streets, pondering.

† † †

The bay wasn't Balinor, yet it looked capable enough for the price offered in exchange, even if it was a stubborn beast. Gwaine's new white mare was skittish, but was supposed to have good speed and stamina.

It rained for the whole day as the party trudged north-east. Wrapped as tightly as corpses against the chill and damp, they said next to nothing and stopped just to rest the horses. After half a day of sunshine, it rained for the next and well into another, slowing their progress.

Blowing into his hands, Merlin shoved them under his armpits but did not complain. Arthur wanted to go just two more miles that night before breaking for camp. They would only manage if they pushed the poor horses into a steady canter and stayed there until it got too dark to travel safely. However, it wasn't possible to make it another two miles, on even ground, anyway.

The four companions stood together in a line, staring down into the cavernous ravine. Dusk had fallen too much to properly sight the bottom, even after the rain had broken to let in some light, but it was twenty horse-lengths across, clearly an impossible jump. And from their position, it looked to be several miles long in both directions.

"We're further south than I thought," Arthur muttered, unrolling the map and frowning.

"We should scout for a bridge," said Lancelot.

Arthur shook his head. "In the morning. We'll camp here tonight."

It was not a silent evening. Wind howled through the ravine, sending shivers down the travellers' spines. They were the wails of restless spirits, never still, never at peace.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin," snorted the prince as the warlock muttered his thoughts about the sounds. "It's just wind. Stop being such a girl." Even so, Arthur scanned the gully opening as the winds screamed in pain.

† † †

Myror the Assassin had nearly finished strangling him with a garrote when Gwaine shook him awake for his watch. Merlin waited for his heart to stop racing before taking his place as the sentinel.

The winds had not stopped over the past several hours. The warlock couldn't tear his eyes away from the ravine, a score of paces away, expecting something to crawl from the dark abyss, moaning in agony.

Restless, Merlin threw his poking stick into the fire and began to wander around. He tried to ignore the terrified throes of his sleeping companions. The night prior, he had relieved them all of nightmares, and felt that this time, he shouldn't risk it, especially because it was so difficult before. The resistance that he'd felt at the inn had expanded. A force repelled his magic, and tried to prevent it from working. Using more power, he was successful anyway, but last night, he had come so close to waking Gwaine and being caught in the process. This time, they will have to sleep roughly.

He heard the distressed whicker of a horse, and squinted over at where the beasts were tied for the night. There was a faint, moon-lit outline of one of them pulling at something, and it took a while for Merlin to realize that its halter had tangled in the bushes.

With soft, soothing words, he slowly approached the horse, which he discovered was his own bay stallion. It whinnied at his touch and smell, and as Merlin untangled the halter rope from the bush, he brushed its warm neck. Then his head whipped around at the clink of stone turning on stone.

Out of the fire's ring of light, it was easier to see further around the camp, but nothing seemed amiss. Just an animal, he thought, and suddenly realized that everything had calmed, calmed but for the moans of his dreaming companions. The wind had dampened.

...Meeeer-iiiin...

He frowned, eyes glancing around shiftily, and then shrugged. Must have been a breeze down in the ravine. He finished unscrambling the halter, but before he could tie it back up—

Meeerr-liiiiinn...

Alright. That definitely wasn't a breeze.

He wandered towards the fire, not turning his back on the ravine. He nearly crouched to take Arthur's sword, which was sitting in its scabbard near its owner, but the warlock realized that such a move would have been very stupid. The prince was known to wake at the quietest slither of a blade. Even in his nightmare, he may very well arise and instinctively punch Merlin in the nose before he knew what he was doing.

Merlin left the light of the fire once more, and stepped closer to the ravine. "Who—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Who's there?"

There was a hiss, and he tensed.

And then he heard the sound of a child weeping.

He blinked in surprise, but did not relax. "H-hello?"

The cries grew louder and more heart wrenching. "Help me!" It sounded like a young girl.

Merlin took a few hesitant steps. "Where are you?"

"Help me, Mama! Papa!" More sobs echoed from the chasm. Merlin rushed to the edge and fell to his knees, ear cocked down. "I'm trapped! Help!"

"Hold on! I'll come get you!" He opened his hand upwards, whispered, "lučem," and a blue orb began to glow on his palm. "Where are you?"

"Right here."

A span of warm, leathery membrane enveloped the warlock before he could gasp, and pulled him into the ravine without a sound.

He escaped once, but before he could climb free of the gully, something jabbed into his lower back, silencing him, and he was yanked back down from behind. Only finger marks, clawed into the dirt, indicated he was ever there.

Dun dun DUN!

What the hell was that? What stole our Merlin?

Guess you'll find out ... NEXT MONDAY! MWA HA HA HA!