Chapter 4
Vortigern felt his stomach turn. He was a physician. It was his job to aid people in need and he was doing so - truly, he was. Seeing this boy plead with him made it hard to ignore his guilt, and yes, guilt it was or he wouldn't have been so affected. He didn't want to second guess himself constantly, but there seemed to be no escape. Facing Emrys meant he was facing his own shortcomings.
"Let me help you up." It came out of Vortigern's mouth like a whisper as he reached out and took Emrys by one arm, pulling him to his feet. "I will find you some food and water and a tonic to restore your strength."
"And my magic?"
"You need to rest."
"So you said." Emrys leaned heavily on the table to keep himself from shaking and falling over once more. There was perspiration on his forehead while he tried to focus and take in the room. This was one of the few rooms in the old ruin still intact, though there was always a draft and the fire going in the small fireplace never had enough wood to burn the whole night. The singular small high window didn't do much to light the place either. Clouds were racing outside, trying to catch each other whenever the fog lifted long enough to see them.
Vortigern was observing the young man from the corner of his eye while he went in search of the tonic, trying to figure out who he was exactly. Even though Emrys appeared to be thoroughly shaken by the suppression of his magic, there was something else in his eyes. It could almost be described as curiosity - he was curious about them and this place, curious but still very angry. Vortigern hoped the curious part was a good sign. For all of them.
"I really want to see Prince Arthur." Emrys' voice took him by surprise once more.
"I already told you, he's perfectly safe," he waved at an old chair. "Why don't you sit down?"
"And you think I take your word for it?" Emrys wasn't moving a muscle, but Vortigern still wondered how long he'd be able to keep sending him those icy glares.
"Why would I lie to you about it?"
"To keep me calm?"
"You have to trust me." Vortigern knew it was a ridiculous statement. They'd forcefully taken Emrys and his friend; he wouldn't be able to trust them without at least knowing that Arthur was out of harm's way. They hadn't anticipated this - a Pendragon being friends with a servant was unheard of. Still, it was clear they were close like family. Kildare would never believe it.
It was a good thing in a way. They could use the prince to gain the trust of his friend Emrys. Vortigern knew how to accomplish this, at least he hoped he did. "I will make certain you can see Arthur Pendragon soon."
Wary eyes were following his every move. "You have the power to make such a claim?"
Oh, this boy certainly wasn't stupid. "Yes; I am Kildare's friend and he will listen to me." It sounded plausible to Vortigern's own ears, though he knew it wasn't so simple. He could tell from Emrys' raised brows he didn't believe it either.
"Are you sure?"
"We have known each other for a long time. He's been our leader because he is the one who saved us, and the one who shows us the way." Vortigern took a piece of bread out of a musty cabinet. It wasn't much but would help Emrys regain some energy - he should probably bring some to Pendragon as well. Where did he leave that bloody tonic again? He was definitely getting older. "You should be honoured Kildare will be able to teach you."
"I thought you said the tree teaches?"
"Kildare is connected to the teaching abilities of the tree."
"And its dark magic?"
Vortigern let out a deep sigh. He really didn't want to go there, but deep inside his heart he knew Emrys was correct. It didn't mean he would let Kildare down. If there was any way to accomplish what they wanted, he was all for it.
"What is your name, again?"
"Vortigern."
"Vortigern, you don't understand. It is my destiny to protect Arthur." Emrys pushed himself away from the table, shaking but keeping balance by waving his hands in the air. "One day he will unite the lands of Albion, and magic will be accepted."
"Listen, Emrys-"
"Merlin, please call me Merlin."
"Merlin. How can you be so certain? Destinies are tricky and may change at every corner. Why shouldn't your destiny be to join us and learn our ways, to really become the most powerful warlock on earth? Someone who could easily overthrow ignorant kings such as Uther?"
"His son is different and you know it. You've seen him, right? He's loyal, brave, honourable, and I trust him with my life. Things should be resolved in a peaceful way, not according to Kildare's will. He wants revenge on people like Uther; I want peace."
"Kildare wants to live in freedom; so do I."
"Revenge is not the way to do so. When Arthur unites the lands and accepts magic..." Merlin stumbled, grabbing hold of the chair. He looked utterly drained but not about to give in. "We can all live in freedom once more."
"You sound so sure of who Arthur is, yet you are still only his servant."
"And his friend." Merlin said, his voice soft but clear. "Listen, Kildare's way is not the right way. I will never listen to what he tries to teach me. Kildare is using dark magic to hold Arthur and me against our will. These are not the actions of a peaceful person, and you know it. You can change this."
Vortigern shook his head vehemently. The Emrys of legend was a wise person, but the one in front of him - desperately trying to get his point across - was only a boy. Surely a boy couldn't know what was best and the teachings would turn him into the man they'd all been waiting for?
Then why did this boy sounds like an older soul… Wise…
This was Gaius' boy and, knowing Gaius, there should be no doubt they made the right choice in taking him away from Camelot. Yes, Gaius had been a friend, but in the end he was nothing more than a traitor. This was what Camelot and Uther did to a person. Friend against friend, brother against brother. He didn't want to remember that Gaius had also saved his life.
He had made a promise to Kildare - one he wanted to keep. Kildare hadn't always been like this; he'd been a good man. The tree was the real problem here. It corrupted Kildare, making him believe violence was the only way to overcome people like Uther.
Vortigern had tried to stop Kildare from visiting the tree, had done everything he could to help Kildare see other ways, peaceful ones. But the tree had the ability to make you addicted to its dark power. Kildare, unlike Emrys, had searched out the tree willingly. Because of it he hadn't lost his magic, but did lose other parts of himself - something that would probably lead to his death.
How could he turn his back on Kildare now? The man was - had been - a friend, someone he would follow to the ends of the earth. But now? It was damn hard to keep faith in him when it was the tree talking. It was just as hard as having to leave Gaius all those years ago. Gaius, the traitor who smuggled him out of Camelot. He was both angry and grateful for it. And now it was like he'd come full circle with Kildare and Emrys.
The tree may have pushed Emrys' magic back, but it was still there - he only had to find it. The tree had not corrupted him yet, and with its knowledge Emrys could learn and maybe even save Kildare in the process. If there were one person who could fight against the power of the tree of Idad, it would be Emrys. Letting him go would be the downfall of the druids, but more importantly, the downfall of Kildare.
Vortigern only wanted the best for both Kildare and Emrys, so he took the only option available to his own conscience. He sighed and captured Emrys' gaze. "There is no choice; you have to do what Kildare says. You are our only hope."
"If you do not let us go there will be no hope, either for our kin or Albion. Surely you don't want that?"
"I do not believe this to be true," Vortigern turned away from the young warlock. It was difficult to look the boy in the eye for long. Honest eyes full of hope of a better world... How naive was he? "I'm sorry, Emrys."
"Merlin." The boy let out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging in weariness. "I'm sorry too."
How big was this old ruin?
The dimly-lit corridors seemed to go on forever. Arthur wished he would have paid more attention to Geoffrey of Monmouth's lessons; if he had, he would probably have known all about this place. Now he only knew this maze that felt like a dungeon - cold, damp, and infested with rat. There was light but he hadn't seen any torches aside from the one next to their cell. Maybe it was magic? Arthur didn't want to think about it too much. He had to be grateful it was there, lighting his journey to the outside world - at least he hoped he would get out.
When he almost stumbled over a couple of rats he let out a muted curse. He wondered if these druids already knew he was out of the cell and were playing a game with him? He felt like he was going in circles. Maybe he should leave a trail so he could make sure he wasn't?
The idea of being stuck down here forever made Arthur shiver while he turned another corner, almost walking into a wall. Another dead end. This was getting ridiculous. How long had he been wandering around, trying to find his way? He hadn't seen another person this entire time and it set him on edge. Still, he was a prince of Camelot; he would hold himself together for his and Merlin's sake. No sorcerer would get the better of him.
A small puddle of water got his attention and, thirst winning over the idea of rats bathing in it, he fell to his knees to scoop up as much as possible. When the coolness trickled down his throat he let out a contented sigh. Now all he needed was a loaf of bread - but that was probably too much to ask. The idea of fresh baked bread made his mouth water even more.
While he moved on he started thinking, the one thing he actually didn't want to do. Thinking made him go back to past events and Merlin being in pain. He hoped the physician was someone who could be trusted with his friend's health. It wasn't impossible but would certainly complicate things if he had to carry an unconscious Merlin out of here with angry druids on their trail.
Angry druids. It made him grin as he imagined them running, capes flying like bats from hell. The grin quickly faded when another couple of rats scurried out of the way, screeching. He'd always hated rats and made sure there were plenty of cats around the citadel to chase and eat them. The idea of rat stew suddenly made him queasy, though he was hungry enough at the moment to actually eat some. It reminded him of Merlin again and he stopped for a moment. He shouldn't be thinking too much, he really shouldn't. With a loud sigh, willing all these thoughts from his mind, he continued.
Steadily the endless corridors got lighter, or was it Arthur's imagination? There also seemed to be fewer rats, though he'd stopped counting them ten corners ago. Yes, there was indeed a slight slope upward where he walked. Maybe he was finally on the right path? Retracing his steps to find another way would almost be impossible. He was exhausted and needed to rest, so he hoped at least a little of his luck had returned.
Why would they lock them up so far from an entrance? It hadn't felt this long on the way in, but he had been blindfolded the whole time - all he really knew was they had descended some stairs.
Arthur slowed without having any idea why. He saw no reason to be more careful and alert than he'd already been, but his gut feeling told him there was something or someone around the next corner. You could call it a certain intuition he developed as a knight, though Merlin seemed to have tons of it, always alerting him even if there wasn't any apparent danger nearby. It pained Arthur to admit, but Merlin's funny feelings were accurate most of the time.
It may very well be the long-awaited exit around the corner - though this seemed unlikely; there was no increase in light to indicate an outside passage. It could mean the door was closed and guarded by druids?
Holding his breath he clenched his hands into tight fists and tiptoed toward the sharp turn. He pushed himself against the damp wall as best he could and peered around, not sure what to expect. First thing he saw was an opposite wall with a door. There wasn't any light to be seen through the cracks, so no outside door then. Damn! Still, there was no one in sight as he crossed the small alcove - which he should be thankful for.
Voices drifted through the door and Arthur held his breath for a moment, listening. If Kildare was inside this room he had it coming. With his ear pressed against the wood he tried to distinguish whom he was hearing. The door wasn't very thick so it only took him one concentrated moment before he could clearly hear a familiar voice.
Merlin, it was Merlin's voice. He was alive. A feeling of relief swelled up in his chest and he pushed down the immediate urge to bang in the door and give his friend a hug. He couldn't do that yet, he had to know the circumstances - who was in the room with Merlin? He kept his ear firmly pressed against the door.
The second voice also sounded like someone he should know; it had to be the physician who took Merlin from their cell. But were they alone in the room? What if there were a bunch of druid guards and he would burst in? They would surely defeat him with their foul magic. He had to come up with a plan and make absolutely certain Merlin and the older man were alone.
Concentrating wasn't easy. Arthur was exhausted and hungry and to focus on the voices felt like a task he almost couldn't overcome. That such a simple thing as listening in would make you this tired. It was ridiculous. Trying to keep his heavy head steady, he could only hear the two voices so why wasn't Merlin running out of the door already? Was he still hurt, or trying to gain the druid's trust? It would be typical of Merlin to try and make friends with the enemy. Damn it, even after they had submitted him to torture. He, Arthur Pendragon, wouldn't be so easy.
He was about to open the door and give the old physician a piece of his mind. Merlin might trust him, but it didn't mean the man was actually trustworthy. Yes, hearing Merlin's voice was the best thing that happened today, nonetheless this was a very dangerous situation. His only goal was to get out of this place. With Merlin.
The attack came out of nowhere and Arthur definitely wasn't prepared for it, even though he thought he would be. In the end he concluded it had been the damned hunger making him weak.
Kildare, the dark druid, appeared across from the alcove flanked by three of his guards. With one small flick of the man's hand Arthur was raised up into the air. The only noise leaving his mouth was a stunned gasp as an invisible choking hand pushed him up against the wall next to the door. Movement was impossible and his lips seemed to be plastered, no sound coming out, not even a small croak. He hated magic with every fibre of his being - or at least the people wielding it. Magic had taken Morgana, and now it was taking Merlin and himself.
"I think it's time for you to return to your cell, Arthur Pendragon." Kildare's voice was casual, calm even. Of course, this wasn't really surprising. He wasn't a threat to the man while the invisible force kept him pinned to the wall. Why couldn't these magical people fight a fair fight? It made Arthur suddenly wonder how his father had won the battle against magic during the Great Purge.
What frustrated Arthur to no end was the fact he'd come so close. Merlin was behind the door but he couldn't reach him - couldn't even call out - and here was Kildare, all collected and proud as if this were a game. Maybe it had been a trap after all, leaving the door unlocked only to catch him - to discourage him, maybe?
The the druid patted Arthur's cheek the way you would a child's, making him flinch. He sure as hell wanted to hurt the man, severely, but no matter how much he strained his muscles he stayed up against the wall. Damn sorcerers.
"You thought you could escape this place, correct?" The man drawled, knowing he wouldn't be able to answer him.
Kildare turned to face the guards. "Two of you will have to come with me, but you..." he pointed at the tallest of them, "take him back."
The man bowed and before Arthur could blink he was pushed off the wall and landed in waiting hands. It's only one guard, he told himself as his arm was painfully pulled behind his back. He could take him down, magic or no magic. Before the thought took full hold Kildare appeared in front of him once more, his face deadly serious.
"I do not know how you got out, but you will not try again. Neither will you try to hurt my friend here. If you do, your servant will suffer for it. Do I make myself clear?"
"You will suffer if you do not let us go," Arthur's mouth was still numb, but at least he could talk again. "My father will have your head for this."
Kildare wasn't impressed. "Where are my manners. Before taking the prince to his cell, give him a tour of this holy place - a place where we are safe from people like him and his father. It might open his eyes."
The druid holding him bowed once more. "I will certainly do this."
The way he said it made Arthur realise there would be no escape this time.
Merlin felt exhausted and hungry, even after the physician had given him some bread and water. He'd refused the tonic, breaking the flask by accident when he knocked it out of Vortigern's hand in a rush of panic. He knew he should make an effort to gain the man's trust. Find out more about Arthur. Find out about the darkness he felt inside; as if it was alive, clinging to his insides like mud.
He'd been so angry; if he had had the use of his magic he would probably have smashed everything to pieces. Who were they to take away his magic? Teaching him what, exactly?
His anger had transformed into a terrible worry for Arthur - who would be hungry as well, no doubt. He hoped his friend wouldn't do something rash, but he knew Arthur. The man could be as stubborn as a mule and very inventive when it came to escaping from hostile places.
His magic, normally making him feel warm and rushing through his veins, was cold now. Like there was a giant hole inside of him. A feeling of home sickness took hold so heavily he felt abandoned, alone. No matter how hard he tried, his magic stayed buried under a dark muddy carpet. It was more than frustrating; it scared him. He wouldn't be able to rescue Arthur; he was nothing more than a useless, skinny servant.
He wished there was something he could say or do which would persuade Vortigern to change his mind about the situation. He knew the physician wasn't a bad man, but he really believed in what they were doing. The man didn't want any harm to come to Merlin, but Kildare seemed to have a grip on Vortigern which couldn't be broken easily. That didn't mean Merlin would give up. Vortigern seemed conflicted; perhaps he'd be able to get through to him if he brought Gaius into the conversation.
Sitting on the edge of a chair near the active fireplace, Merlin watched Vortigern patiently work at making another tonic, but Merlin wasn't sure he would touch it even though it might actually help him. The old man had said there was no way for him to restore his own magic but Merlin didn't believe it at all. Kildare said the tree took it, but he felt this wasn't the whole truth. Vortigern knew more about this than he was saying and Merlin had to make him share soon; the empty feeling was making him sick.
"How do you know Gaius?"
Vortigern looked up for a moment and Merlin saw a mix of irritation and sadness in his eyes. Maybe the man simply didn't want to talk about it? Gaius had stayed loyal to King Uther, but had saved many of his kin during The Great Purge. Was Vortigern one of them?
"It's not important."
"It is to me." Merlin continued, not about to give up. "Gaius is like a father to me; he taught me so much. I don't want to think about never seeing him again. If we do not return home he will be terribly worried."
There was no obvious reaction to this when the man stopped stirring his tonic. "Here, drink this." Vortigern walked over and pushed a steaming cup inside his cold hands. "And don't throw it on the floor this time - it will make you feel better."
Before Merlin could thank him the door swung open and Kildare, flanked by two other druids, walked in. Merlin's blood froze and he stumbled to his feet in an instant. The cup would have smashed to the ground once more if Vortigern hadn't grabbed it. There was something about Kildare, and the urge to stay as far away from him as possible hit Merlin like a punch to the face. The odd thing was, it wasn't exactly fear but something else - a connection almost.
"Leave us, physician."
"You might need my assistance."
"Not this time."
"Kildare, you can't..."
"I can't what?" The man took one step toward the old physician. A threatening glance made Vortigern bow his head, speechless. The man might have been his friend once, but Merlin could feel there wasn't much left of this friendship. Kildare was too consumed by hatred and revenge. The pain on Vortigern's face told Merlin enough; He might still believe in a better world by wanting to teach him, Emrys, but he also hesitated.
"Nothing." The old man answered, seemingly defeated.
"Then leave us."
Vortigern left the room while the two guards positioned themselves to either side of Merlin. It made him wonder if Kildare were still afraid of him, even with his magic subdued like it was. He could still feel it, but it was just out of reach. Maybe this was what frightened Kildare so much? Maybe the man knew he could strike out against him if he so wished? Not that Merlin actually felt it at the moment; Concentrating on it wasn't doing him any good either.
The leader himself stood all high and mighty near the fireplace. His back turned towards him, in a way it should have been intimidating, but Merlin couldn't care less. He wouldn't become some puppet in this man's game. Blinking. he got a flash of the dark tree mixed with Kildare's features and it made him step back in surprise. It felt like the tree and the man were one.
His musings were interrupted when Kildare finally turned around to face him. "Now, Emrys, are you willing to listen to what I have to say?"
"I was, but after what you did to me, I don't think so."
"You don't want Arthur Pendragon to suffer any further, do you?"
"You have no intention of hurting him."
"No?"
"I don't even know if he's still alive."
"Oh, he is." Kildare was holding a small coin-like device in his hand. He waved it in the air with a flourish, a smile of victory playing on his lips. The man seemed to think he knew all the answers, knew what was best for everyone, and he was wrong - so wrong. "This is the essence of the tree of Idad, produced when when you were in its grasp. The essence was delivered to me in this eorðgráp to help you learn the true purpose of your destiny."
The guards locked Merlin's arms in a tight grip - not that he felt strong enough to fight at the moment. The constant battle with the darkness of the tree inside him, along with his subdued magic, was making him nauseous.
"I already know the purpose of my destiny," it came out of his mouth in a vicious snarl which even surprised himself, "but if you let Arthur go, I might consider listening to you."
"I do not think you know your destiny," Kildare mused,, ignoring the remark about Arthur, "But if it is true, you won't have much to learn. It is not up to me, but the essence of the tree. It is a very different but effective teacher; you'll see. It taught me well, so will it be with you."
Kildare came closer, the coin in his hand radiating the darkness of the tree. Merlin couldn't help but panic, but he wouldn't let Kildare see how much this was affecting him. He couldn't reach his magic and darkness enveloped him more and more with every step the druid took. Whatever he was planning with the coin, the essence of the tree, it was bad, really bad.
"You don't understand; why aren't you listening to me?" Merlin felt desperate. "I will listen to you, learn from you if you let Arthur Pendragon go. It's simple."
"I think it is time you listened to what is truly important, for you and for the future of Albion." Kildare stepped forward and pushed the coin flat against the skin behind his left ear.
A very sharp stabbing pain, like the one which had consumed him after the tree had grabbed him, raced through Merlin's head and the impact of it made his knees buckle. If those guards hadn't been holding him up he would have crashed to the floor.
His mind was invaded by thoughts and feelings not his own. Dark fog surrounded him and all he remembered was gasping for air when images started to penetrate his very soul. The images were like a dream, but he could feel it. It was so real...
An old woman stretched out her hand toward him while a Camelot guard dragged her away, leaving him standing there. A cry died on her lips when she was roughly pulled in the direction of the main square. Her eyes pleaded with him to do something, but he couldn't move. He stood there, frozen to the ground.
The image changed into that of Thomas Collins, dying at the hand of Uther Pendragon while his mother had to watch her only son die, a cry of revenge coming out of her mouth while Merlin just stood there and did nothing to prevent it. His feet were unable to take one step, his stomach clenched painfully, and his mind felt numb and uncooperative.
Another man, unknown to him, was standing on a pyre set ablaze by Camelot guards, their faces impassive and uncaring. Children were crying, houses torn down. A putrid smell of blood and ashes invaded Merlin's throat and mouth, he could taste it and it made him gag violently.
An inviting hand landed on his shoulder. He couldn't see who it belonged to but, as it pulled him up out of the chaos and destruction, he didn't care. It was a solid touch holding a promise of a better world, of beautiful magical places and peaceful times. He only had to listen, to learn.
The hand guided him through a forest to a secluded patch of grass where a beam of sunlight penetrated the forest leaves, shining onto someone lying there. A familiar someone. Arthur. His feet no longer frozen in place, he made his way toward the prince; his friend. Merlin sluggishly wondered why he was there, what he was doing.
When he bent down to speak to Arthur, he noticed the man's face was a bluish white - an unmoving pale face, pale blue eyes open but staring into nothing. The limbs of his armoured body twisted in a grotesque way, blood slowly dripping through armour and fabric. The stench of death was heavy and Merlin choked, his breath stuck, the blood draining from his face.
No, this couldn't be. Arthur was very much alive the last time he saw him. But Merlin couldn't remember when the last time was, and a cry of denial left his mouth. This couldn't be. The words replayed itself in his mind. This wasn't happening, this was just a nightmare.
"No!"
The dark druid appeared out of nowhere. His familiar features made Merlin flinch, even while he was still vaguely aware this could be nothing more than a dream. None of this was real, even though he could clearly feel the emotions and experience the pain. Stepping back, he lifted a finger at the man who seemed responsible.
"You; what have you done?"
"Dreams teach, Emrys, you of all men should know this." The dark druid, Kildare, sounded calm and friendly, and the voice seemed to ground him, but only for a moment.
"I already know what Uther does is wrong, but Arthur is a better man!" Merlin's voice took on a sharp edge, while his subdued magic was buzzing like a swarm of bees deep inside of him. If he could only grab hold of it, push it outwards, make this man see the truth of his destiny. "You do not know the weight of my destiny, and you are teaching me nothing..."
"You are wrong." The voice faded, and so did the man. His image was replaced by Camelot burning, people screaming and running. Gwen crying and Gaius... His friend and mentor was lying face up on the cobblestones of the courtyard, eyes open but unseeing.
"Gaius!" Merlin faltered for a moment, then ran as fast as he could toward the old man on the ground. When he grabbed Gaius' hands he already knew he was too late. There was nothing he could do, and the scream of denial which came straight from his heart was vibrating inside his ears.
Biting his lip he concentrated willing himself to wake up. Willing himself to stop this pain, to stop believing in the things which were happening. No more darkness; he had to believe in the light, in his magic - however deep it was buried. Gaius and Arthur were alive, and he was going back to them.
They were all he had to live for. His home, his destiny.
TBC