21. Hostile friend

Two days prior to Uther's involuntary reunion with his grandson, things had reached a climax for Alined's prisoners.

Antek rose when he heard someone approaching his prison. "Hey! Let me out. Hey!" In addition to yelling his head off he kicked against the door for all he was worth.

Alined's soldiers opened the cell and went for the prisoner without any ado, swinging a vicious looking leather strap. "Stop ya' ruckus or I'll peel you like an apple."

The threat did nothing to keep the Count of Llanfair from vociferating his heart-felt grievances "Blast you; your King will have your miserable heads for forgetting me in here."

Unfortunately for Antek, the older of the two guards was the one who'd had the pleasure of thrashing the high ranking noble before and, after a lifetime as Alined's henchman, the man was too far gone on the high road to perdition to like anything better than an encore of this delightful experience.

Hence Llanfair, when he reached the extemporaneous torture chamber, could barely stand. With his head throbbing maddeningly, he needed a moment before he recognized everyone.

Arthur was kneeling on the ground, held in check by two of Alined's soldiers and their swords. And by the fact that an only semi-conscious warlock was lying in his lap.

Alined and Trickler stood behind the rack that was still situated in the room's centre. Even in his miserable state Antek noticed that Trickler was sweating profoundly, cringed more than usual in an obvious wish to make himself invisible.

The King on the other hand showed all signs of impatience. "Tie him down" he gnarled "damn your laziness, make haste about it!"

Only as his back made hard contact with the rack's bench Llanfair understood that these words had referred to him; he protested vehemently until a rag was stuffed into his mouth and pulled tight behind his neck.

Antek's heart was racing. What was happening? This wasn't good, no, no, no, this wasn't good at all.

For no sensible reason at all he was convinced that Arthur could end this lunacy with one word. So why the hell didn't the Prince say anything? It was all well and good that Camelot's darling seemed unhurt but couldn't he at least try to keep his friend and fellow noble in the same desirable state?

"Alined, please, you must believe me, you do not want to do this!"

Antek closed his eyes, sighing with relief. It wasn't exactly what he had expected to hear from the Prince, but it sure was a start.

However, when Llanfair opened his eyes again, one good look at Alined cruelly destroyed the young Count's illusions.

The King's face and voice were laden with genuine thirst to know more about the Rashnijaan. Yet the curiosity was laced with something else, something like joyful anticipation where joy should have no business. "Tell me, Arthur, as you're so knowledgeable about the Book's demands, is it necessary that you and your warlock friend watch the ritual and the actual sacrifice?"

"Sacrifice?" Antek thought, panicking. "What sacrifice?"

"Your Grace, you must stop this madness before it…."

Arthur stopped in mid-sentence, as if someone had taken him by the throat and made him stop. Actually, someone had done exactly that, albeit not from the out- but from the inside. "Don't you dare spoil it, little dragon. I've been looking forward to this far too long. Hold Your Tongue!"

Arthur struggled to regain control of his body but it was in vain. He stared into Alined's face wishing desperately that the man for once should be able to look beyond his greed and see that he was digging his own grave.

But all the King saw was a defenceless prisoner feeling shamed that he had saved himself on a friend's expense and that was a kind of shame Alined knew only too well from many, many occasions. "Well then, as you cannot make up your mind, I see no reason why you should not see the result of your suggestions first hand."

Whilst he spoke, Alined pointed at Arthur and Merlin and his guards reacted promptly.

As Pendragon didn't resist when they once more tied him to the beam, the King was sure that he had broken the young man's spirit; the more so as the Prince did not object to Merlin being tied up by his side. The warlock came to half way through the procedure, moaning pitifully and still Arthur showed no reaction at all, apparently fully focussed on his own misery.

Alined was the tiniest bit disappointed. He had expected much more resistance from his captive. He always delighted in overcoming the first hefty struggle. Inevitably it led to realization that there was no escape, no hope left but to surrender. This moment of truth was one of Alined's favourites. Who would have thought that Camelot's Crown Prince would give up so easily?

Well, one could not have everything, and Uther's son was still a prize catch as well as a very handsome boy.

"You know what, my dear Count Llanfair?" Alined came back to the matter at hand. "You're really at the core of things here. You were willing to sell the Book of Demons to me without the slightest idea what you were giving away, you betrayed your Pendragon friend when you sold his warlock to my men and you told my soldiers how to press Arthur into revealing the book's whereabouts."

With genuine fondness the King stroked the matted mass of jet black hair. Enjoying it when Antek winced and pulled at his bonds in a futile attempt to get away. With a sting of regret Alined admired the radiant emerald green eyes, the smooth, honey-coloured skin of the chest. Where it wasn't hurt. What a waste…..

"You can hardly blame our dear Prince for playing like with like" he told Antek gently. "You know, it was your dear Pendragon friend who told me that your heart's blood would give me power over the Rashnijaan."

Antek screamed, terrified out of his wits; he struggled until his wrists and ankles bled.

The gag muffled his screams and yet Merlin, nauseous and giddy as he still was, was sure that Llanfair was screaming Arthur's name. Great Mother, the man was an imbecile, a supercilious idiot and what not but this went too far. Instinctively Merlin reached out to his magic, only to feel blackness approach him again. One thing was certain: There was nothing he would do to help Antek any time soon.

"Arthur for the Gods' sake, do something. You can't let him die!"

Not that Merlin's outcry didn't make it to Arthur's ears. Not that the Prince, aghast at what he had set into motion, wouldn't have loved to try talking Alined out of this. Not that he wouldn't have loved to break free from the only sloppily and superficially bound ropes. But as it was, he couldn't.

In Arthur's mind his real captor's voice could barely hide the pleasant anticipation of Antek's imminent death, and a gruesomely slow, dragged out death at that. "The knife is gone" said the voice which by right should be silent and forgotten. "I'm almost free." Impatiently the spectre strengthened his grip on his captive. "Say it, little dragon. Say it now!"

Grudgingly, fighting the spirit's hold over him every step of the way without anyone noticing it, Arthur volunteered to explain the exact course of the ritual, every cut Trickler's blade would have to make into Antek's body, every incantation that would be needed and every gesture that had to go with them.

It was a long description and it left no room for doubt that young Llanfair would scream himself to death for many an hour before it was over.

Antek froze on the rack. At first he couldn't believe it; he couldn't understand that Arthur Pendragon should be capable of this kind of betrayal.

What finally showed the wretched noble that he wasn't caught in a horrible nightmare, that this was real; real and inescapable, was Merlin's enraged scream "Arthur, shut up. How can you…"

Arthur turned to Merlin when he felt the warlock's body tense with a start. The Prince wanted to apologize; he tried to explain that the whole thing wasn't his idea but it was no use, nothing came out. Tears of anger and frustration were hard to restrain as he saw that Merlin was too appalled to even look at him.

In truth, it had nothing to do with the warlock being disgusted by what Arthur had done. Not any more.

"My dear young friend. What an inappropriate way to address one's master." At first Merlin did not recognize the calm but slightly amused voice in his head that had startled him. It was familiar, and yet….. "You did not really think you and this sad excuse for a knight Badagere had defeated me, did you?"

Tired, sluggish and overawed as he was, it took Merlin a while to finally put two and two together. But somewhere in his memory an older picture of the Rashnijaan was hovering. Another room, another place. The very same Book on a table. Arthur in front of it; willing to undergo a procedure the horror of which he couldn't even begin to comprehend. "Arthur, run. Don't do this. It's a lie, it's all a lie…."

And then the warlock's mind had been hit with ferocious force and he had once more been kicked out of Blackrock, unable to hold on to his mental connection with Arthur. As always, Anwar of Llanfair had been the one to decide whether Merlin could hear and see his friend's torment or not.

"You're dead" Merlin now replied silently. Trying not to tremble. Trying to stay as calm and composed as the enemy was. Yet the unexpected presence in his mind was so very alien, so unnatural and poisonous - his restrained magic rose to reject it, to cast it out, leaving the wizard choking, fighting to stay conscious. "You're dead and rotten! You're dead, dead, dead!"

Merlin writhed with disgust when Anwar's incorporeal voice chuckled softly in his mind. "I'm feeling more alive with every passing minute. By the way, don't try that again. Your magic is no match for the Book of Demons. The two aren't ….. compatible."

"Where are you? If you want to fight this out, show yourself!"

"I had become a part of the Book, didn't you know that? Really, for such an important warlock you're grossly untutored. The Rashnijaan's magic is fed by the demons' vital energy that once was banned into the book. Since then it has the power to draw in a man's soul, bit by bit, every time he uses it. Once the Book has got full hold of you, you become a part of it when your body dies, as much as the demons are."

At once, Merlin's gaze wandered to the Book of Demons Trickler was just lifting up by Alined's command. To begin the ritual Arthur had described. The ritual that would end only when Antek's heart would be cut out of his body while it still beat.

"Don't get your hopes up; I'm no longer in the Book. You could destroy it – if you could destroy it, that is – and still I would be with you. You can do nothing to fight me."

Merlin laid all his disgust, all his anger into his silent retort. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. If you want to fight me, you're welcome to try. Where are you?"

"But I'm here, Merlin. Right at your side. Don't you see me?"

Slowly, the warlock looked up. His questioning stare met Arthur's gaze and suddenly no questions were left unanswered. Merlin's legs became jelly and only the restraints kept him upright.

"The Di'inshara's power is amazing, don't you think? Arthur's body is mine. His hands, his legs – even his voice. Naturally I'm not sure if I could make it back to the Book if the Prince would die now. But then, I could perhaps take him with me. Do you think he'd like being caged inside this out-worldly dimension to all eternity? Would you want to give it a try? Cut your friend's throat and see what happens?"

Arthur had once, in a moment of uncharacteristic openness, told Merlin what defeat and humiliation meant to a warrior. How it felt. How one chewed on it. How it hurt. How it burned a man's inside, using his own pride and self-respect for fuel.

Back then, the warlock had mentally filed that away under 'knights' code and other rubbish'. Now he knew exactly what the royal had been talking about. He experienced it all, first hand.

"If this is about you and me, why can't you leave them both alone" Merlin said, pleading now, as threatening was no longer an option. "I know I destroyed your plans, I enabled Badagere to kill you. Why Arthur again? Why Antek? If it is me you want?"

"You're rushing ahead of things too quickly, Merlin. This is only the first step on a long way. Eventually I'll need your help, your support."

"For that you can wait until it snows in hell!"

"Arthur never spoke about the Di'inshara? That I once had his thoughts, his memories, his feelings, his whole being at my mercy, together with his body? Didn't he tell you how I used this power during the first eight days after the ritual? No? Well, must have been too shameful for him. But surely you remember this!"

In the same instant a familiar agony washed over Merlin, drowned his thoughts and his resistance as it had done once before. It wasn't his own body that was suffering; he could've shut the pain out, and the anguish. But that would've helped only him. Not Arthur. "Leave him alone. Let go of him. Please, please, let go of him!"

The wizard felt Arthur's exhausted body sag against his own when the spectre ceased to torment him. "Let's not beat around the bush, Merlin" the hated voice said soberly, sensibly. "There is nothing you'd not do to free your friend. And I could dissolve the bond of the Di'inshara at any given moment. For a price!"

"Anything" Merlin said inwardly, his resistance crushed. "Just stop torturing him. I'm sure, Uther would…."

"I do no longer care for Kings and Crowns or for a petty revenge on a mere mortal like Uther Pendragon. I'm gambling for much higher stakes."

"What stakes?"

"Shhhh, dear warlock. The sacrifice is about to begin. You're going to miss the best part."

Abruptly Merlin felt that the presence had left him; that it had withdrawn to whence it had come. Now that he knew where to look he could sense it in the Prince, like an illness that violated his friend's body. "Arthur I… I'm sorry…."

"Don't look" Pendragon whispered for an answer. "Just don't look. And it's me who's sorry."

"Arthur, I know what…"

The Prince winced in pain and Merlin got the message. He shut his mouth immediately.

Antek on the other hand, seeing the blade in Alined's hand approaching his exposed belly, had no cause to be silent, he screamed under the gag and renewed his struggling.

Neither he nor his captors had observed anything of what had been going on between Arthur, Merlin and a third person they did not know to be there. Instead the unholy triangle of Alined, Trickler and their intended victim were completely lost in their own situation.

The King's guards had long since fled the room for good.

Trickler was the first to notice that something was wrong. The letters and drawings in the Rashnijaan moved before his eyes. His sight became blurred, suddenly he had trouble breathing. He stammered his way through the incantations, gasping for air. Gods, it was so very hot, so sticky, he couldn't breathe. He just couldn't breathe…. The Book was heavy in his hands, if only he could put it down….

A last time Alined stroked Antek's hair before he raised his hand determinedly to bring the blade down for the first cut into Llanfair's skin. Directly into the left thigh, drawing the first blood to quench the Rashnijaan's thirst. To make the demons' power his.

Slowly, very slowly, the blade made its way towards its mark.

The King tried to bring it down but somehow the knife wouldn't obey him. Angrily he pushed down but as if drawn by an invisible string, the blade went upwards instead.

Up, and up, and up, away from Antek's helpless body towards another who was unsuspecting of the approach.

The torch light flickered; the room felt unnaturally cold and damp. Darkness seeped from every corner. Only the blade still shone and sparkled while it moved through the air with agonizing tardiness, dragging Alined's limp hand along.

Trickler's eyes were glued to the Book; he tried to read faster, to get it over with, to get away from this room, this madness. This was all wrong, all wrong, he shouldn't have told his master anything about the Rashnijaan, why, oh, why had he ever mentioned the damn thing….

The Court Jester was still mumbling spells, still chastising himself when Alined's knife reached his neck and cut his throat open from one side to the other with a single fierce move.

Trickler's blood splattered from the gaping wound, on the prisoner before him, on Alined's face and arm but most of all on the Book he had been holding; which he still held until his legs finally gave way beneath him and he fell.

He wasn't dead when he reached the floor. Uncomprehending he stared around him. From his torn vocal cords came some horrible gurgling sounds before, at last, he lay still. His eyes were wide open. Still directed at what he had seen during his last moments. Still desperately asking why this had happened. What he had done to deserve this.

Alined bent down to lift the Rashnijaan from the floor. "Interesting" he said. "Dry. And clean. I'd forgotten that. It really drinks the blood. When I first made it mine it was the same. My wife bled like a slaughtered pig all over the place back then. But the Book was dry and clean."

The King looked up. "She was Badagere's sister, you know. As stupid as her brother. After she'd given me a son, she was no longer useful. I told Badagere she'd had a riding accident. Fell down and broke her neck, I said. And he said he believed me."

Casually, relaxed, he strode to Arthur's side.

The Prince pulled his head back but couldn't avoid the touch of the bloody fingers on his cheek. "Feels much better, doesn't it. Now that I'm no longer inside you. But don't you forget, little dragon. It's courtesy only. I can withdraw the privilege, any time you give me cause."

"Where's Alined?" Arthur asked calmly, ignoring the jibe. He knew these little games too well to be baited that easily.

"Dead. Or in the Book. How should I know? I just needed a body to myself; and a body of a man whose orders are obeyed. It's always a pleasure to share your body for a while, Arthur, but I doubt that Alined's men would jump to do your bidding!"

"Who are you?" Merlin said tensely. For some reason he wanted to hear it, although he already knew who was talking to them. "What are you?"

"Come, come, my wizard friend. You can't be that dumb. If you are, I'm sure our Prince here can spell it out for you."

The man who'd been Anwar of Llanfair and who now owned King Alined's body turned round and frowned. "And while you're at it, Arthur, maybe you could explain a thing or two to Antek. That is, as soon as he wakes up."

"It's always a pleasure to tell your son what kind of a man his father is!"

Anwar/Alined grinned wolfishly, a clear reminder that he hadn't been called the Llanfair wolf during his lifetime for nothing. "And what a pleasure it always was to make you bow that stiff neck of yours to me. Luckily I have all the time in the world to give you a refresher course while we wait."

"Arthur, be quiet" Merlin thought despairingly. "Please, I beg you. Hush your mouth just this once!"

Of course the Prince had other ideas. "And what, pray enlighten me, are we waiting for?"

"A visitor who's already on her way to bring me a very special item. As soon as she's arrived, we can finish what we started. Aren't you excited to be a part of this?"

With a side glance at Merlin, Anwar/Alined ruffled Arthur's hair playfully. He had always loved to do this, albeit for other reasons than Alined. For the new inhabitant of the late King's body, the gesture had no more sensuality than stroking a dog would have. "You must admit Arthur, there's nothing more adventurous than a quest for the power of life and death itself."