Glad everyone is enjoying this, not quite certain what else might sneak into the middle of the story, but I know where I am going for the ending. (Always quite useful to know, really) :-)
They didn't know what time they were roused, but it was a rude awakening. Arthur was hauled to his feet and slapped around the face. He reared back and then glared at Barak stood in front of him. Two men held his arms tightly, two more were holding the heavy looking clubs. They had stopped carrying swords because they couldn't kill Arthur, beating him if necessary was another matter.
"Rise and shine, pretty boys," Barak laughed.
Merlin was also hauled to his feet, struggling against the two men that dragged him up. Barak looked from Arthur to Merlin and back again.
"What is the meaning of this?" Arthur snapped. ""Where's I'lian?"
Barak smirked, stepping closer to Arthur. Arthur tensed but there wasn't much he could do, the two bandits had a good grip of his arms, the two with the clubs looked ready to put them to use, and Merlin was watching the scene with wide eyes, moving from person to person.
"My cousin is in the process of a ransom demand. And I don't doubt we will get a very good price for you." Barak wrapped a careful hand around Arthur's throat, caressing the flesh with a light touch, but it also held a significant threat. Merlin struggled, until Arthur's eyes slid in his direction, warning him not to do anything. He subdued his behaviour, but kept a careful eye on the proceedings.
"I don't doubt that," Arthur said. Barak smirked.
"But, it will take a little time, also depending on what reply we get from your father."
At least that was one issue solved. They were going to Uther first. Merlin had no doubt that Uther would pay the ransom, Arthur had given enough reasons for that. And they had been due back at the castle yesterday, so they court would be aware that something was wrong.
"That doesn't explain what you are doing?" Arthur snarled. Barak's hand tensed, he moved a little closer to Arthur, the two men holding him tightened their grip. The two with Merlin did the same.
"As our guests, we need to keep you entertained."
"Oh, this does not sound good," Merlin announced. He gave a yelp as the man on the left punched him in the lower back, just on his kidney. Arthur tensed, trying to lurch free, but getting nowhere. Merlin gasped and sagged in the grip. The blow had hurt, but it hadn't been with the full force the man next to him seemed capable of. Still, Merlin thought it better to seem feeble, he didn't think it would hurt to let people under-estimate him. He glanced up at Arthur, whose eyes narrowed a little, but he continued to struggle and as his gaze turned to Barak he glared at him.
"Leave him alone!" Arthur commanded. Barak's eyes went from Arthur to Merlin and back again. Then his dark gaze swept the men with him.
"Bring them!"
He strolled from the tent and the guards around Arthur pushed him forward. One of the men holding a club prodded Arthur in the back as he dug his heels in, looking over his shoulder as he was dragged through the entrance. Merlin stumbled as he was pulled forward. The chains around his ankles meant he couldn't actually step forward, the best he could do was a slow, shuffle, dragging his feet along the ground as swiftly as possible to try and keep up with Arthur. He scanned the bandits. All of them looked as scruffy as Barak, but well-muscled and strong.
"Arthur!" Merlin called. They yanked him forward, so he stumbled again. He tried to get his feet back under him as they dragged him along, but he couldn't for a moment, twisting his ankle painfully.
"It's all right, Merlin," Arthur said tensely.
It didn't seem very all right to Merlin. They were dragged across the camp and past the tent where Merlin had been yesterday. Merlin did the same thing that Arthur was no doubt doing, looking around. He spotted the escape route that Arthur noticed yesterday, and the rough outline of tents it the clearing. The tent they were in seemed to be central, the main clearing in front of it held a cooking area, and logs were scattered close by, presumably where the bandits gathered.
As they passed Barak's tent on the far side, Merlin's heart sank. Twenty or so men were gathered around an open area, which looked like a training ground. The fencing was crude, a few roughly chopped wooden posts, with longer, thinner logs running across the top, make up a railing. The rail was bound to the posts by rough twine and in some places what looked to be a thick vine. It was very much an improvised construction, but it most certainly had a purpose. There was a gap between two posts, situated in the nearest corner. Arthur was shoved through it, staggering but gaining his feet before he fell.
Merlin was less lucky, they released him and pushed him forward, and automatically he took a step. Again, the chain hobbling him yanked him up short and he went sprawling face down just by the gap. It caused a ripple of laugher among the gathered bandits, Arthur glared at them furiously. He stepped forward to help Merlin up, but as Merlin struggled to his hands and knees he was grabbed by the scruff of the neck and pulled onto his feet. One of the men holding a club stepped forward to prevent Arthur from getting involved. He prodded the prince in the chest with the end of the club, pushing him and daring Arthur to push back. Arthur stayed put, gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on Merlin, and how he was being treated.
Merlin was dragged the rest of the way and shoved back against the railing. Two men stood behind the boundary grabbed him, holding him against the fence, the rail pushing into his lower back. Arthur paced a few steps, trying to work out a way to get to Merlin. Barak stayed between them, flanked by the two men with clubs. Arthur stilled down and levelled his gaze at Barak.
"Now what?" Arthur asked rudely. It had, in fact, occurred to him what might happen next. In the middle of a training ring there would be only one thing that would entertain the surrounding mob of bandits. All Arthur really needed to find out was how many he was fighting and what weapons they would be using. He just had to make sure Merlin stayed out of it.
Most of the time Merlin was very good at avoiding the worst parts of a confrontation, and he never seemed to get hurt. Arthur generally contented himself with that, teasing Merlin about it was just a fun sideline.
"Now, we want to see just how good you think you are," Barak said. Arthur smirked.
"I don't think, I know I'm good, if you want to learn that the hard way, then find by me," Arthur snapped.
"Arthur! Don't you dare, you… uumph!" Merlin was rudely cut off by the man holding his right arm also clamping a hand down over his mouth. Merlin struggled, trying to kick him, but all he did was end up pulling his legs out from under himself. He settled for glaring at Arthur.
"What are you, his mother?" Barak took a step towards Merlin.
"Hey!" Arthur yelled. "You can leave him out of this."
He lurched forward as Barak took a club from the hands of one of the waiting bandits and moved closer to Merlin. Merlin went still and looked around for something to levitate, his eyes wandered to the weapons that were clustered on the floor at the far end of the ring. A sword slowly started to shift in the pile. No one noticed, they were far too busy watching the confrontation.
"I don't think so," Barak said.
"We had an agreement."
"No," Barak corrected Arthur. "You made the bargain with my cousin, who isn't here."
He waved a hand and Merlin stopped moving the swords as another of the bandits turned to sort through the weapons, picking up two swords.
"Now, this is simple, you know we can't hurt you, it wouldn't do our payday much good if we return you dead," Barak said, taking one of the swords from the bandit, holding it in his left hand. The bandit kept hold of the second sword, eyeing Arthur with gleaming eyes. Merlin shook his head to try and dislodge the hand over his mouth. The bandit was wearing gloves of thick leather, biting wouldn't be any use. Eventually, with a snort of laughter he let Merlin go.
"Arthur, you idiot!" Merlin announced the moment he was free. Barak turned to glare at him and the bandit clamped his hand back. Merlin huffed, glaring at Arthur. Arthur shot him one brief angry glance before shifting his attention back to Barak.
"He's not very respectful, he really does need to be taught some manners," Barak drawled.
"I'm not going to let you do it, and yes, I'm aware you can't hurt me," Arthur said with a smirk. He caught the sword as Barak threw it at him.
"They're blunted, so there won't be any permanent damage, but just to make sure I know you are making an effort, if you receive any physical blow, then your friend here gets one." Barak tapped Merlin on the chest with the club he was still holding. It didn't hurt, but the hint was enough. Arthur glared, Barak shrugged and grinned.
"You did agree with my cousin that he stays safe if you cooperate," Barak added.
Merlin managed to get his mouth free again. "I don't think this counts as cooperation!"
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur announced. His eyes were roving around the ring, the tension was obvious. The bandit's aggression rose in the air like a blast of heat. Arthur guessed that Barak had wound the group up before he and Merlin had been dragged out here. The prince didn't feel too worried as he looked around. He had handled himself well enough in the initial fight, and Galen had done a good job on his hip, and his fingers. It didn't look like the bandits were going to offer him a shield, Arthur didn't particularly like the idea of attempting to hold it. Instead he checked over the feel of the sword, it wasn't balanced as he would have liked it, the hilt seemed a little too heavy but it was good enough for him.
There was a ripple from the crowd as Barak stepped back and Arthur's opponent stepped forward. Arthur shifted his shoulders, regretting not allowing Merlin to remove the armour last night, but wearing it did give him a mild advantage now. He looked the bandit up and down, his greasy dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck. The chain mail he was wearing looked like it had been last cleaned about five years ago, and the trousers and boots he had on were worn through in patches.
Arthur watched him advance forward, glancing sideways as Barak took position close to Merlin, folding his arms across his chest and resting the heavy tip of the club on his shoulder. He smirked at Arthur. Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Merlin's worried expression, and a glimmer of fury flickering in his eyes. Arthur wasn't quite sure who or what Merlin was angry at, Barak, the situation or Arthur himself.
Any considerations evaporated from Arthur's head as his opponent rushed forward, seeing Arthur's glance slide and assuming he was distracted. Arthur blocked the flurry of blows as the man tried to get through his defences. Arthur backed up two steps under the fury of it, and then ducked a high blow, spun on his heel and backed up into the space. A quick glance told him Merlin had stopped wriggling in the bandit's grip and was just watching, his eyes staying on Arthur most of the time, but darting around the periphery as well. It assured Arthur that if anything sneaky was attempted, he'd have good warning. He swung his sword, loosening his arm as best he could. The blows and the movement of his opponent's shoulders told him that the man relied on brute force rather than skill. Every time he moved Arthur could easily guess where he was going. He blocked a blow to his leg and then anticipated the feint to his right and met the sword as it crossed to his left shoulder. The bandit frowned, realising he had been easily outmanoeuvred. If Arthur had been facing someone in a normal training session, he would have pointed out everything that was wrong with the attack, but he wasn't going to give any of these men a sliver of tutoring. Instead he just braced his arm and pushed, making the bandit stagger back.
"Not very good, are you?" Arthur commented.
On the sidelines, Merlin rolled his eyes, the audience roared in anger, joined at the crescendo by the bandit in the ring. He ran forward, aiming a heavy blow at Arthur. The prince ducked and reversing the sword struck the man hard in the stomach, doubling him over. The bandit crashed forward and Arthur hit him sharply on the back of the head and he sprawled on the ground and lay still. The bandit's gave another roar of anger. Arthur just shrugged, stepped back and waited. Two men hauled their unconscious comrade in the ring and neither Arthur nor Merlin felt any surprise that the sword was picked up by another man. The bandit's cheered their comrade on encouragingly. Arthur exhaled a breath, readied the sword and waited for the next attack.
XxxxxxxxxxxxxX
Merlin watched with futile anger as Arthur fought. He didn't think they could risk an escape. Arthur wouldn't take it without him and Merlin couldn't think of an excuse to escape his chains with so many witnesses. He did concentrate on helping Arthur's cause. Two of the bandits in the ring couldn't seem to keep hold of the sword, another slipped banging his head on the railing and knocking himself out – to much laugher from his friends – and Arthur managed the other five without intervention, but by the end of his eighth bout he was clearly tiring, his hair plastered down on his forehead with sweat, face flushed from the exertion. He paused as the man fell in an ungainly heap, stepping back from him. Arthur used the leather of his gauntlet to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. Merlin risked a glance at Barak.
The leader of the mob looked less than thrilled with the development. By some mysterious stroke of luck not a single blow had crashed onto Arthur's armour. It was not in the interests of self-preservation that Merlin made sure of that. Well, not entirely; but it was more to prevent Arthur from worrying about him. The prince's ego was big enough that he would happily assume he was fending the bandits off without issue, but it was clear to all spectators that Arthur was tiring, his blows were lacking the impact they had at the beginning, and he wasn't moving as swiftly. He had stumbled twice in the last bout, and he had looked very surprised when he had blocked a blow that he had hardly seen coming. Merlin had knocked Arthur's arm up for the sword to meet it.
Barak waved a hand and the man stumbled from the ring, the leader grabbed a waterskin and threw it at Arthur, who just about caught it with his left hand, grimacing as it collided with his broken fingers. He jammed the point of the sword into the ground and was about to take the stopper out when Merlin intervened.
"Arthur, don't drink anything he's given you!"
Arthur paused. The crowd around them had gone still. Arthur narrowed his eyes in an unspoken question. Merlin blinked and said calmly.
"You're not supposed to have anything unless I taste it first."
That was not strictly true. His food was often checked, but it was not generally Merlin's responsibility and Arthur never questioned anything that Merlin produced for him from the kitchens. There was just the slightest quirk of Arthur's lips, no one else would really notice it, but Merlin knew he had done the right thing.
"That's true," Arthur said and he threw the waterskin in Merlin's general direction. He was still being held firmly, so he couldn't catch it. It struck his chest and dropped to the floor. Merlin looked at Barak with wide eyes, and after a moment's pause he stepped forward and grabbing the skin uncorked the top, yanking it out with a loud pop. Taking Merlin's chin he tilted his head back and forced the water into his mouth. Merlin felt his throat constrict but swallowed down as much as he could. Barak let him go.
The water tasted fine to Merlin. It was cool, and refreshing. Gaius had taught him a little, made him taste enough disgusting remedies for him to be able to pick out if something might be amiss. There was nothing bitter about the water, and no hint of sweetness. It just tasted like water. Merlin licked his lower lip to pick up some of the droplets that were threatening to run down his chin and waited a moment. Then he looked at Arthur.
"It seems okay," Merlin said. Barak handed the opened skin to the nearest man and he grabbed it, swinging under the fence and walking up handed it to Arthur. Arthur took it and drank as much as he could, gulping it down. He felt painfully aware that he also hadn't eaten since the previous day.
Merlin watched in concern, aware of the same thing. It didn't look like Barak planned to give Arthur a break any time soon. Merlin sighed with relief as a horrified voice asked.
"Barak, what are you doing?"
Merlin turned his head as best he could to look over his shoulder. Galen helped by running forward, ducking under the railing and dropping the basket of herbs he had been collecting. Several neatly tied bundles of green leaves tumbled out onto the floor. He looked from Barak, to Arthur, to Merlin in consternation until his eyes scanned the rest of the group.
"Just putting the prince through his paces," Barak commented, a few of the men laughed. Galen blinked in shock.
"But I'lian…"
"Isn't here," Barak interjected. "And it would reflect badly on us if we don't keep the poor prince entertained."
Galen gaped at him. He was as slight as Merlin, but a good head shorter than him. Barak reached out and swept the healer away. The audience had fallen silent, watching the scene unfold. Barak looked around at them congenially.
"So, who's next?"
"Why not you?" Arthur snapped. The crowd went still again. The mood changed a little at the direct challenge, and all eyes went to Barak. Arthur gave a very satisfied smirk.
"Or are you waiting until you think I am completely exhausted," Arthur asked casually. "Not really the sign of a good leader."
He gave a very significant pause before carrying on.
"Oh, but you're not the leader are you. You're just pretending that you are."
Merlin inhaled, waiting. Arthur was baiting the man, very deliberately. And if he did take down Barak, then it might just be chaotic enough for them to create a distraction, or rather for Merlin himself to. He roved over the scenery again for potential ideas.
Barak stepped forward, Arthur stood his ground, stance showing he was ready for anything Barak tried, but not, unfortunately, for what happened.
"Arthur, behind you!" Merlin yelled.
With sudden efficiency two men dived forward and grabbed Arthur, pulling him off balance and hauling him back. Arthur struggled but two more men pinned him back against the railing and wrapped twine around his wrists and binding them to the wood.
"I think it's only fair to give the prince a rest," Barak said, and then he jerked his head at the two men holding Merlin. Merlin yelped as he was pushed forward and naturally went sprawling on the floor. He rolled and sat up.
"Hey!" Arthur yelled. "Leave him alone!"
Merlin looked up at Barak, he tried to move to get to Arthur. Something struck his shoulder and Merlin winced as dirt sprayed everywhere, scattering down his clothes and into his hair. His eyes widened and he rolled as Barak swung the club down. It slammed into the ground, in the spot Merlin had been seconds before.
The crowd around them were baying for blood now. They couldn't hurt Arthur, but Merlin was a different prospect entirely.
"Merlin!" Arthur yelled.
Merlin's attention shifted in Arthur's direction. His eyes focussed on the twine around Arthur's right arm, which suddenly snapped. It was a little unfortunate for the bandit tying Arthur's left arm as Arthur swung round and punched him squarely in the face. He flew back and as Arthur yanked Merlin's eyes flashed and the twine snapped. Merlin shuffled backwards, away from Arthur, but putting distance between himself and Barak seemed important.
Barak's attention turned away from him anyway, as Arthur got free. Arthur dived for the sword, as Barak stepped forward swinging the club.
"Arthur!" Merlin shouted, while at the same time Galen rushed forward to try and put himself directly between Barak and Arthur. And Merlin winced with horror as the blow found a target.