18. Downhill
Merlin scrambled back, as far away from the door as he could. If this was the ass-hole Trickler with another bucket of filthy, ice cold water …..
Surprised, he recognized the Count of Llanfair in the man who was thrown into the cell by a kick in the backside that made him topple over until he landed flat on his belly. A guard laughed – "Some joke!" Merlin thought – and the door was slammed shut again.
Antek groaned while he picked himself up, eyeing the wizard warily. It was obvious on first sight that the peasant had been through a lot more of their hosts' idea of tender care than he and Arthur had. So Merlin was most probably in a very bad mood. And, they weren't exactly friends.
The wizard's feelings weren't very friendly, that was true, but then he thought that, while he could have done without the unwanted company, he could still make the best of it. "Do you have something to eat or water?"
Anger stirred inside the noble at the snappy tone of the question. Antek's irritation went far beyond the fact that Merlin had destroyed his home; that he was a competitor for the only real affection the Count had ever met in his life or that magicians just weren't Llanfair's favourite cup of wine.
On top of all that, Merlin had a singular talent to rattle Antek. This was personal. The warlock's presence was like a toothache, like a nail grating on glass. Insignificant, yes, unimportant, yes, but nevertheless unendurable.
Somehow the insolent peasant seemed to look through people. Every remark, every grin, every gesture seemed to be pointed at Llanfair's hidden weaknesses and shortcomings.
In Antek's view, Merlin was able to strip a man of all his outer glory and leave him naked and exposed, for all eyes to see and judge. And Llanfair felt he was not up to the challenge.
Arthur, on the other hand, endured the merciless disclosure of his inner being good-humouredly; Antek had often heard Merlin calling his Prince a prat, a supercilious dollop-head or worse and Camelot's Crown Prince had just laughed or retorted by some banter of his own.
Even King Uther, for all his superior attitude, seemed to have a soft spot for the boy. It was visible although the wizard kept his tongue in check in the King's presence as best he could.
How the Pendragons could tolerate this kind of behaviour was beyond the Count of Llanfair. Antek was a much better man than his father had been, in fact a much better man than he allowed himself to be in this gruesomely cruel world where everyone seemed to be after his hide or that of the people dear to him.
Yet Llanfair had been brought up in the strictest sense of aristocratic superiority and pride. Merlin's frankness and honesty were the perfect antithesis to that upbringing and it drove the nobleman mad.
With a deliberately exaggerated sigh, the warlock gave another example of his non-endearing qualities. "Are you deaf? Do-you-have-some-thing-to-eat?" he repeated with insulting slowness and mock patience.
"No" Antek snapped. He wanted to blurt Alined's message out, but he restrained himself. He knew it was base, and yet he was looking forward to seeing the warlock's face in the moment he told him. Arthur wouldn't know, Llanfair calmed his qualms of conscience, so, if he treated himself to some wizard bashing, it wouldn't add to the Prince's tribulations. C'me on you beastly, arrogating commoner. Give me the cue.
And Merlin obliged without knowing it. "Where's Arthur? What have they done to him?" He tried to sound as authoritative and demanding as his royal friend did in such situations but he failed miserably. Two days in this hell-hole, hungry, thirsty and no sign, no sound from the others. Then, only hours ago, Trickler's appearance and with it the knowledge in whose hands they were, the knowledge of who and what Alined was.
Merlin couldn't have cared less about whom a man took to his bed. He knew a whole variety of different people with different tastes and it didn't disturb him at all. But he did care if people preferred having their 'fun' non-consensually and as humiliating as possible. On that score, Alined had a reputation to live up to. And he did not exactly prefer servants; the King's desire and ambition aimed much higher. If it had not been for his Crown and noble ancestry, Alined had been strung up for a slow and loathsome death years ago by some aggravated parent, sibling or friend of his victims.
Anticipation of what this perversion of a King could do had even ousted the all too familiar feeling of Blackrock's evil magic that somehow, miraculously, had made it to this stronghold.
As a result Merlin was afraid, bone-shaking so, and it showed. His voice quivered, his chin did the same and Antek's next words did nothing to help him.
"Arthur is in Alined's torture chamber, tied to a whipping pole, and it is your fault!"
With cruel joy Llanfair saw the other pale, swallow hard and tremble slightly.
"What are they doing to him?" Merlin, almighty, castle-destroying, noblemen-despising, Antek-tormenting Merlin, looked as if he would collapse any moment and the Count felt much better. He knew he hadn't been a heroic figure whilst on the rack and it rattled him that the gallant Pendragon Prince should have heard him scream and whimper. But this lifted his spirits, it really did.
"Alined says it's either you finally doing your duty or he'll have Arthur's flesh ripped off his bones with hot tongs!"
There was no need to say more. Merlin's vivid imagination carried him to all the nasty places without the Count's help and then it left him there, stranded.
With a badly hidden sneer, Antek saw the young man retch up painfully, albeit nothing came out. From an empty stomach not much can be brought up.
"A fine protector of your Prince you are" Llanfair continued, determined to turn the knife in the wound as long as it was still fresh and hurting. "If you cannot come up with something, oh greatest of all magicians, Arthur will suffer the consequences."
Antek shook his head in well feigned sympathy. "And after all they've done to Arthur already. He was in very bad shape when I left him." That was, as Llanfair admitted to himself, grossly exaggerated, but who cared?
"What have they done to him?" Merlin's face was smeared with tears and dirt, he looked pitifully enough but not enough for the man who begrudged him the destruction of all he'd ever had, including a big part of his already sensitive self-confidence.
"All kind of things" Antek drawled, thinking hastily of some ugly ways to abuse a prisoner. He and Arthur had been well treated until today, but the wizard didn't look the part of a pet prisoner. Which gave Antek an idea. "Have you been fed? Have you got any water? No? You see? And, just in case you as his alleged best friend have failed to notice, Arthur can't stand being locked in. And King Alined – there's a reason he gives one the creep, is there not?"
Merlin's thoughts frenzied. For the umpteenth time he tried to call his magic, but it was as useless as always. It was inside him, he could feel it, but it did not listen, did not obey him. It was blind, deaf and dumb, a piece of dead meat somewhere in his body.
Which left him with one solution only. Merlin darted to the locked door and hammered against it with all his remaining strength. "Let me out. I must speak to your King!"
As the warlock was dragged out by the guards, Antek strolled casually towards the wide open door, only to find it slammed in his face. Perplexed, he waited for a moment before he began to shout. "Hey, you imbeciles. Mission accomplished. Let me out. Your King wants to see me. Hey."
He was still yelling when all the others had left this part of the vaults for good, forgetting all about him.
This included King Alined, whose full attention was focused on the upset wizard from the moment Merlin was brought before him.
Merlin on the other hand could not have heeded him less. The young man's gaze darted around until it found what it had been searching for; the familiar form in the back of the chamber. Frantically he looked the Prince over and flinched as he found what he had dreaded - when Arthur had struggled against the henchmen's hands, ropes and chains earlier he had earned himself a few discoloured bruises and these superficial, harmless injuries were all Merlin needed to assume the very worst. "Arthur!"
The warlock wasn't a paragon of physical strength and martial arts but in this instant he wriggled and writhed so unexpectedly in the soldiers' grip that they couldn't hold him; he just slipped out of their fingers.
Arthur snapped to attention as Merlin ran – or hastily stumbled rather – towards him.
Unable to speak and with his hands bound behind the beam in his back he had only one way to tell the warlock that he wanted him to stay out of this, no matter what Alined said or did.
The Prince prepared himself, but when Merlin was only one step away from him, Arthur frowned.
Anxious, worried sick, at a loss at what to do – all of this was plain in Merlin's face but – was the idiot smiling in spite of all that? Now? Here? The Prince couldn't believe it. True enough, smiling at Arthur Pendragon was as natural to Merlin as purring was to a cat but had nobody ever told him that a cat had no business purring whilst a pack of hyenas made ready to devour it?
Well, high time that someone did tell him.
While his stomach turned and a sour liquid burned in his throat because he felt so terribly sorry, Arthur lunged out and kicked Merlin viciously enough to send him flying away from him and to the floor. In addition the Prince growled angrily under his gag as loud as he could; hoping that the meaning of the sound was obvious. "Stay away from me! Your help is not wanted!"
"Don't touch him" Alined cut a soldier short a split second before the man's fist could land in Arthur's face. "Just tie his legs to the beam. That'll suffice."
As attentive as he had been towards Antek before, the King helped a dumbfounded Merlin to his feet; he even dusted the young man's clothes. The warlock, more shocked than hurt, let his uncomprehending stare wander back to Pendragon, his face an unspoken question "What did you do that for? What do you want?"
Arthur laid his whole heart into his own face and eyes as he returned the gaze, cursing his helplessness when he saw no understanding dawn on Merlin's features.
Alined shook his head to hide a small grin he couldn't at once suppress. "What our mutual princely friend is trying to tell you" the King said conversationally to the warlock "is, that he does not want you and me to become friends. But you see, he has no say in the matter. It's between you and me."
Roughly the King turned the warlock round, so that his back was turned towards the Prince and Merlin could no longer see him. "Now, let me get that straight" Alined continued. "I've taken hold of this book of spells" he pointed at the Rashnijaan "and I need your help to use it. It will make me very rich and as a result, I'll be very happy. If I'm happy, you and your Prince will stay alive and well. If I'm not happy… do you follow my drift?"
An astonishing development took place in Merlin's face. First his eyes widened as he remembered the hot tongs but then he frowned, visibly astonished. "A book of spells! That's what this is about? A book of spells?" and it sounded like "if you'd told me that before we all could be on our way home by now."
"Didn't Trickler tell you what this is about? With what I need your help?"
Merlin shook his head. "No!"
A murderous kingly glare hit the Jester and the slimy coward cringed under it. He would get his reward for that blunder later and it wouldn't be a light punishment, he knew that much.
For the time being, Alined concentrated on the matter at hand. "See. It's not so very bad, is it? What say you, why don't we start right here and now. The sooner I have what I want the sooner we can untie your friend and no further harm will come to any of you. You've my solemn word for it."
Instinctively Merlin tried to turn, to gain some clue from Arthur but Alined stopped him. "No use staring at your Prince, he can't help you. You do as I say or my men will tear him to pieces before your eyes!"
With both an impressively comprehensive state-of-the-art collection of torture instruments and the peculiar but definitely less threatening book in plain sight, the warlock had little trouble making up his mind. Not for a second he doubted Alined's sincerity and whatever scruples Arthur had about helping a known rival of Camelot, they couldn't be as important as the Prince's life and well-being. Not that the royal prat would ever admit or even realize that!
As Merlin stretched out his hand for the Book of Demons, Trickler's shoulders slumped even more. Desperately he racked his brain for an excuse to get out before it was too late.
The Jester had almost collapsed creating the dampening field that so far hampered Merlin's magic, although it had been a minor spell, some 'warming-up' exercise, as the book called it. And yet the one brief contact had been enough to teach him to stay out of the thing's way. Up to this very moment the Rashnijaan drained Trickler's magic to keep the shield up and it was a horrific sensation.
In fact it had been this dampening field Merlin had felt earlier and mistaken for a leftover from his Blackrock-experience, as, albeit the shield in the late Llanfair stronghold had been a sophisticated, semi-permeable membrane which could bar or allow a magician's entry at its creator's will, Trickler's much inferior work was basically the same thing.
Merlin could not know that this shield was all that stood between his naturally inborn magic and the Rashnijaan's essentially unnatural power.
Alined gave the book to him, an expectant look on his strangely handsome-and-ugly-at-the-same-time face. For a moment Merlin weighed the leather clad volume indecisively in his hand. In his back the warlock heard Arthur stir restlessly, making clear without words that this was not what he wanted.
The thought grazed Merlin's mind that the book might contain something, a spell or anything, that could enable him to reach his restrained magic, with which, doubtlessly, both he and Arthur would be free in an instant. With fresh resolution he ignored Arthur's unnerved moan, opened the book and found – nothing at all.
Alined, who was looking over his shoulder, felt his eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. The pages were empty. No signs, letters, no figures or pictures – nothing.
Like a predator the King came for his unfortunate Court Jester and hit him with a vengeance. His fists drummed the hapless man as if he wanted to beat the living daylight out of him while he roared like a wounded dragon. "What do you take me for, you dog? Did you think you could betray me?"
"It's the shield, master" Trickler yelled, terrified out of his wits. "You aren't a magician you can't see anything and even if you were, with the shield in place you could not see the writing. It's an encryption. An encryption, master, just an encryption."
"Then lift the damn shield before we lose all day!" Alined foamed with rage.
Merlin, free to turn wherever he wanted since Alined had let go of him, sent Arthur a triumphant grin of anticipation. The connection between this ominous 'shield' and his restrained magic wasn't hard to figure out. "Shield lifted, magic back, out of here" his grin told the Prince reassuringly. Not for the life of him Merlin could understand why Arthur shook his head frantically; all the time trying to somehow loosen the gag that kept him from crying out loud, as he obviously wanted to do.
Merlin heard the Jester murmur something under his breath and with a satisfying rush his magic came back to him, filled his veins and mind as it had done since the day he was born.
The words he'd need to send them all packing were already forming in his mind when all of a sudden his vision blackened. A lightening seemed to flash through his brain, painful, confusing, overwhelming. Strange voices first whispered, then yelled at him. Ugly, distorted figures danced before his eyes; and, grinning sneeringly, they made fun of him.
Then the fire came to consume him. It began in his hands, crawled up his arms, into his head, his heart, his lungs and throat, until he could scream no longer.
Disbelieving, understanding nothing of what was happening, Alined saw the young warlock howl loudly and collapse while Arthur fought like a madman to free himself. Without thinking, acting on a mere hunch, the King unsheathed his knife, cut through the Prince's bonds and watched him dart to his friend's side, barely taking the time to pull the gag out of his mouth.
"God almighty can't you see that it is killing him" Arthur roared at the top of his voice.
In his back the King heard Trickler murmur something under his breath, not very coherent, apparently senseless.
But Merlin's howling ceased and his body relaxed. Limply he fell back into Arthur's lap who with one move ripped the Rashnijaan out of the wizard's hands and threw it away. Fast, very fast, but not fast enough to avoid another sickening, silent encounter with it. The evil seemed to seep in his skin like poison and he shuddered.
Alined felt that the situation called for some resolute action from him before he lost face altogether. "What happened?" he demanded to know from, of all non-experts in magic, Arthur Pendragon.
His hands cramped around Merlin's shoulders, the Prince inhaled to vent his shock and anguish by some verbal abuse but Trickler spoke first. "The book, master. It's true, he can't stand it. Perhaps if he'd been ….. prepared somehow, warned of what was to be expected…." He cleared his throat under Alined's hateful stare "the shield is back in place, so for the moment we are safe…."
As usual there was no pleasing his master for Trickler, no matter what he did. "Why didn't you tell me this would happen, you useless nitwit?"
"I….. I didn't know…. I thought….."
"But I knew" Arthur interrupted the Jester. "Hell, Alined, I told you to leave the book in peace. The thing is just murderous. Let me take it back to the Druids. It must be destroyed before you get us all killed!"
The King's blade sent a shower of reflected light over the wall before it's point came to a halt a mere millimetre away from the Prince's throat. "Do not try to play me for a fool" Alined whispered in cold wrath. "Anwar used the book for more than twenty years and it didn't kill him. He even used it on you for all I know and yet I see you right before me."
Arthur winced when the steel pressed into his skin, a gentle yet unmistakable message, as much as the King's hard sneer "I advise you to tell me how Anwar gained access. There's still the rack, my boy, for your useless warlock friend, for Anwar's son, as long and dirty as you want it."
"But not for me?" Arthur replied sharply, more to hide his apprehension than to impress his opponent.
"For you I could think of some other occupations, don't you fear."
Somewhere in Arthur's brain the infamous voice whispered and sniggered and suddenly the Prince knew the answer. Against his will the words came into his mind, on his tongue and then, to his dismay, he heard himself speak, and speak on, until he had blurted it all out.
While Arthur was frozen stiff in shock at what he had just said, Alined's face lit up, the furious frown went and he was all benevolence again. "I knew you're a bright lad" he said "and it wasn't so very difficult to be reasonable, eh? Now you just tell me how I can make this bag of skin and bones perform the ritual" the point of his sword grazed Merlin's unconscious body "without him collapsing again, and then you can have a well deserved break."
Again, Arthur had no other chance but to speak out; as if his mouth and vocal cords were someone else's. "You mustn't use Merlin. You'll need him later on. Another sorcerer must perform the rites of initiation."
"Bravo, lad, that's first class thinking. If I need your little warlock friend, I also need you, don't I. So you're both off the hook."
Alined nodded approvingly, to Arthur's burning mortification. "Well, so much the better. I wanted you to have a prolonged stay as my guests anyhow."
The King turned and looked around, visibly musing about something. "Now let me see, two main characters are yet to be cast. Well, there's our friend Trickler here to fill the magician's role but who should be the other participant?"
Alined laid a finger on the top of his nose and pretended to think long and hard.
Arthur was about to revolt, to protest. Longingly his eyes hung at the sword at Alined's side, he knew, under normal circumstances the older man was no match for him. As the others had used the first opportunity to make themselves scarce; only two of the once five soldiers remained in the room, and they looked thoroughly intimidated by the mysterious events. It wasn't such a long way from here to the first floor, to the main exit. If only Merlin would come to, perhaps with Alined as their hostage, he could …..
"Don't you dare think it, little dragon" the familiar, infamous voice boomed through his head as if to split it in halves. "Not one move, not one sound."
And with a devastating feeling of recognition Arthur knew that it no longer mattered whether he wanted to obey this voice or not. Even if his mind was still free, his body was hopelessly trapped. "Can't you see where this is going" he replied inwardly "damn it, he's your son! Have you no heart at all?"
The voice chuckled. "Presently I don't. And that's exactly what this is about."
The King chose this very moment to declare what had been clear from the very start. "I'm afraid young Antek will have to oblige. It's a crying shame, for such a handsome lad to die so very young, but I do not see another possibility. Do you?"