Sorry for the lateness. I was busy last night reapplying for financial aid for school and forgot to put this up. This story is slowly coming to its end. Don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile. I'm leaving it up until near the end of the story. Enjoy.
"Arthur, where are we going?" Merlin asked as they rode out of Camelot, horse laden down with a day's worth of supplies for two.
"Away from here." Was his brisk reply as he kneed his mount into a trot as the last of the buildings slid by them.
Merlin copied and caught up with him, hand steady on the reins. "Yes, I can see that, but why are we going away from here?" He asked, exasperated with the blonde prat.
"Because, I don't want Camelot to become involved with anymore of Anhora's tests. If I'm out here, he'll be forced to test me out here and not endanger anyone else."
In a way it made perfect sense and he wondered how long Arthur had been thinking about this since last night. Sighing, he just continued to follow, letting his magic range a little to give forewarning in case something was headed their way, not that it was likely to tell him if Anhora was near. It hadn't before, so why would it now.
They rode on for a few more hours, putting as much distance between them and the city. They found a clearing nearby, a small stream a short distance from where they had decided to lay their camp. As Arthur started to set up, he walked the horses over to water them after their journey. The forest was quiet around them.
He got the fire going fairly quickly, so quickly that Merlin hadn't even gotten back yet from watering the horses. Giving a tired sigh, he sat back, leaning his back against a convenient log. This whole test thing was a constant buzz on his mind, never far from thought.
He glanced up at the sky, judging the light. It was just passed noon, though with the overcast clouds, the world was dimmer then it normally would be. He knew, though how a mystery, that Anhora would test him today.
The sound of a twig snapping drew his gaze up and around. "Merlin." There was no answer, but he hadn't expected there to be. Merlin was too far away to have heard and the noise had come from behind him, not in front where he could hear the barely audible murmur of the stream.
Standing, he grabbed his blade, belting it on, cinching it tight around his waist. Stepping over the log, he took a hesitant step towards the trees. He glanced back only once. He knew Merlin would be mad, hell, more than mad, but this needed to be done alone. He did feel guilty though. He was supposed to stay by him, protect the half Druid from harm and right now, he was abandoning him, but Merlin could take care of himself.
Turning away, he stepped through the underbrush, moving quickly over the many roots and plants, quickly fading into the shadows and disappearing from sight.
As he drew back near the clearing, he could feel that something was off. Frowning, he walked quicker, pulling the horses along with him, breaking into the clearing, eyes quickly scanning the small area.
The fire was still going, its heat having barely touched the wood. It had only been burning for a little while. If that was so, then where was Arthur? He would have waited until Merlin had gotten back to tell him he was going hunting if that was so.
There were no signs of a struggle so that left only that Arthur had left of his own free will, sword with him, since it wasn't here. He went to send his magic out, to look for the great idiot, but the moment he tried to command it, it wouldn't listen.
He tried again and again, but it refused to listen. It felt like it was almost…hiding inside him, that something out there frightened it, which was a laugh if you thought about it, but put him on edge at the same time.
It gave him a bad feeling, like something big was about to happen to Arthur without him there, something that he didn't want to happen. "Damnit, Arthur! Why do you always have to do this?" He barked angrily to the air, clenching his hands into fists around the horses' reins he still held. They fidgeted behind him, sensing his anger and the magic boiling just under the surface of his skin.
Quickly, he tied the horses up, casting a quick spell to hide the came and put out the fire before he was running, ignoring the underbrush that whipped at his exposed skin and tore at his clothing. He was not going to let whatever it was about to happen to Arthur. Once he stopped it, he'd smack the stupid prat hard, since that appeared to be the only way to get through his thick skull and huge ego.
Swearing, he kept running through the mist that had risen, unaware of the fact that he was headed in the wrong direction that Arthur had taken.
All was quiet, making each step he took louder than it really was. The fog is getting thicker, veiling everything and creating illusions of white and shadow, confusing everything around him. Seeing something moving up ahead, he sprints towards it, only for it to change into the branches of a bush being shaken by a startled rabbit that disappear back into the fog at his approach.
Cursing loudly, he strikes a nearby tree with his fist. Sighing, he squares his shoulders, and heads off in a new direction, completely lost by now. He stops on the lip of a small ravine and spots a flash of white against the gray fog, moving away from him through the ravine below.
Swearing, he takes off again, knowing that that is Anhora and if he has to, he'll shake the sorcerer until his teeth rattle to get him to tell him what the next test is. Arthur slips on some damp moss on the way down, ending up sliding down the rest of the way, but he ignores the ache it leaves, scrambling up to chase after the retreating figure.
Turning the corner, he stumbles to a stop, taking in the piles of food, the tent and fire…the man he had spared, seated among the much needed food with a smug smirk on his face as he takes in Arthur's surprised expression. "You…you're a thief!"
"Wasn't that obvious when you and you're pet Druid caught me stealing your grain?" He asks, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
"I have more important things to deal with than you at the moment." He shoots back, stalking away from the man.
He lets out an amused laugh. "You didn't honestly believe my story about my starving children, did you?" He asks.
His back stiffens, indignation rolling off of him at the man's words. He spins around, glaring at the thief. "What kind of a man lies about starving children to save his own skin?" He asks, goading the man.
"Your people starve because you let thieves steal their grain." He says, changing the topic. "That is why they doubt you, their prince they know so little about, who acts like a Druid himself."
"Your father would have never been fooled, would have never shown leniency for me. But you and your little Druid toke my story at face value like the bleeding hearts you are. So soft hearted."
"You will hold your tongue, or I will force you to." He growls out, scowling at the man.
"And that's why he doubts you would make a good king. He fears you time among the Druids has corrupted you, made you blind to the human part of running Camelot."
"You know nothing of what my father thinks‒"
"I know he wishes he had another son, one with whom he can be sure of their loyalties, one who isn't so trusting of the Druid people and who willingly keeps a little Druid whore for his own. You shame him."
He sees red at his last words. He was willing to take the man's words about himself and his father, but that he should speak of Merlin in such a way, Merlin who has suffered more than most ever will. That was taking it too far. "Pick up your sword!" He declares, stalking back over to tower over the seated figure, drawing his own sword in a swift movement.
"Your father must dread the day you take the throne." He answers, standing with a world sigh, then smirking, yanking his sword from where it is buried point first in the dirt between them.
Growling, he strikes out, their swords coming together in a clamor of metal on metal. They come together, pressing against each other, trying to force each other to their knees. "He fears you do not have the strength to defeat his enemies." Growling, he pushes him away, striking out in anger at the man.
They come together again and again, swords ringing. He's losing ground, being forced back as the man presses him. When his sword is struck from his hand, he pushes him away, racing up the incline to grab it. "The king must wonder if you are even his son and not some imposter created by the Druids to take control of his kingdom."
He sees red again, rushing with a yell. He presses, forcing the man back, pushing until his back his up against a tree and he can't escape. Yelling, he strikes, sword descending against the open man…and hits nothing, sending him off balance and to the forest floor.
Struggling up, he looks around and sees Anhora standing behind, face solemn as he stares at the prince. "This is your doing!" He yells.
"This was a test, to see what was truly in your heart." Arthur just glares, dusting dirt off of his hands and picking up his sword, sheathing it. "Why did you kill this man?"
"He insulted my honor."
"You could have chosen to ignore his taunts, what harm would they do you?" He asks.
"I would not let him insult Merlin like that. He doesn't deserve it."
"Your Druid friend has endured much in his life. Do you think the words of one man that he will never hear will concern him? Do you think you truly know what it means to defend him when the smallest thing sends you into a rage? How can you defend him when you willingly leave him on his own?"
"You will lift this curse, Guardian!" He demands, ignoring the truth of his words.
"I cannot. Demanding what is not yours to demand will not help." Arthur stiffens, glaring. "You have shown that you are willing to kill a man to defend your pride and will use the excuse of defending the pride of others as well. You have failed the test. For this, Camelot will pay dearly."
"My people have done nothing to deserve this!"
"Your people suffering is not my doing, it is yours." He says and then is gone.