1001 NE, Spring

Merlin soon found the two others. They were not yet full Asha'man, with sword pins on their collars marking them as Dedicated. A tent had been commandeered for their use near the officer's tents, although on the far side. No-one was comfortable with the One Power, most especially not when wielded by men, despite that the Dragon Reborn himself used it. Saidin had been cleansed. Men would no longer go mad from the Dark One's taint on saidin, but they refused to believe it. Thousands of years of fear and knowledge could not be erased quickly. Asha'man were barely tolerated, with people watching them as if they were rabid dogs, likely to go mad at any moment.

"Asha'man," said Kullyn in acknowledgement. Nutir nodded the same.

Merlin nodded at them, and looked around at the neat expanse of tent, the pallets, a third clearly laid out for him. They'd put his small pack there, and upon seeing it he realised he must have forgotten it as he stepped through the Gateway; one of the Maidens would have given it to the others.

"Who will we report to?" said Nutir, looking up from his book and marking his place with a finger. "High Lord Pendragon? The Lord Dragon should have let us discuss with the council, Asha'man."

Merlin looked at him for a moment, then at the others, whose impassive faces gave nothing away. Sometimes he thought their training was almost too good. "We take our orders from our commanders. We are heading out against the Seanchan in a couple of days' time, so you will each go to a regiment and make yourself known to the commander. The High Lord will plan on how you are best to be used."

"And yourself, Asha'man Emrys?" said Kullyn.

"'Merlin' will do," he said. He would quickly grow tired of hearing his full title with the two about. "My orders are to protect the High Lord and other officers. I will be working from outside the main tent, should the Seanchan make it past the front lines." The Dedicated stiffened. "Although I'm sure that it won't be necessary." Merlin bent over his pack and sifted mechanically through its contents. Another two black coats, one in red, and breeches. He had learned to pack light.

The men were silent, and then, as if by agreement, left the tent. He could soon feel saidin being used just outside; they were probably weaving fireballs. The more one used the saidin in any given location, the better you grew to know the place. Once you knew it well it was possible to weave Gateways, but tiredness fell upon him and he lay on the pallet, his arm over his face so the men wouldn't disturb him.

He slept.

The next couple of days were a blur of meetings, battle plans, and fortifications. All three Asha'man were dispatched to weaken ground where the battle would take place; ten thousand Seanchan had camped at the other side of Almoth Plain, and their numbers grew daily. They would be here soon enough.

Through the meetings he spoke not at all to Arthur, who didn't turn his way. Any questions for Merlin came from one of his captains, and he soon stopped looking at Arthur for questions. A small sick feeling sat in his belly, warring with relief at seeing Arthur again.

Each day he would find Gaius for the midday meal and they would sit under drying herbs outside the healer's tent. He told Merlin of Will up to when the Stone had fallen, and how things were changing in Tear because of the Dragon Reborn. Merlin felt a fierce joy at finding that the lower classes were no longer subject to the whim of lords, who were now subject to the same laws as commoners.

His friends would now have a chance at making something of themselves and not see it torn from them without repercussion. His mother would stand a chance. He'd joined the servants at the Stone not from a desire for servitude, even if he had grown tired of cleaning fish and their scales forever caught under his fingernails. His mother had lost her boat and her nets one day, because of a lord--some young lordling had fallen into the mud, destroying the outfit he had donned fresh from the tailor's, and claimed it was because of the slipperiness of outside of her stall. Their livelihood gone, they had taken up the positions Gaius had found them and left behind their earlier, reasonably free, life.

Tear had fallen to the Dragon Reborn, Rand al'Thor, who had then taken Callandor in hand. Merlin had found it difficult to think of the Lord Dragon as Rand al'Thor. During his time at the Black Tower they had called him Lord Dragon, at the M'Hael's command, and once summoned to his side, he had lived with the cold hardness on the youthful face and tired eyes which measured your every step. In the end, saying Rand al'Thor's name in the privacy of his mind had been difficult, let alone saying it to his face.

He had hoped that with al'Thor's conquest of Tear, and its fall to the Aiel, that the High Lords would have come to tolerate channelling. Their guardianship of Callandor, the greatest male sa'angreal from the Age of Legends, was at an end. If Arthur could come to terms with his own foster sister becoming an Aes Sedai, he had hoped that would also extend to Asha'man, especially after the battles in Amador. Al'Thor's amnesty for men who could channel would change no minds, but flinching and avoidance soon faded to poorly hidden distaste when the officers and Lords accepted they would help counter the Seanchan's use of captive women channellers in war. Aes Sedai couldn't use the One Power in battle; Asha'man had no such oaths. They were shaped to be weapons.

They practiced their weaves every evening, setting fire to the earth and breaking down rocks with their flows of Earth. The other two men were strong, if they were holding as much saidin as they could hold. He found himself keeping to their level, although he taught them new weaves as he found them.

Merlin would find himself thinking, What would happen if? and find the way he'd thought of was better, or faster, than the way the Black Tower had taught them, although Taim had kept most of the training for his favourites and left the others to muddle their way through in the dark. Merlin had thought about the weaves they were shown, and felt the need to try out variations he thought might work. Men burned their ability out or killed themselves with attempts at new weaves, and sometimes Merlin wondered if he wasn't going to end up that way. Finding better, neater ways to do things, though, was worth the risk.

He spoke with both equally, and over the course of a few days found Nutir seeking out his company, quietly sitting beside him at meals, sometimes asking him questions about the Dragon Reborn. It wasn't until he found Nutir watching him don his clothing one morning that he realised what he was about, and felt a flash of interest. There was no chance of anything with Arthur, while the sharp-eyed dark man was clearly interested. He'd smiled at Nutir before he left the tent, and made no effort to hide his undressing that evening.

He'd only met the Dedicated days before they'd come to camp, both coming from other armies where Shadowspawn had killed generals. Perhaps al'Thor thought their familiarity with having leaders killed around them would make them want to prove themselves in keeping Arthur Pendragon alive. He'd heard Bashere, al'Thor's Saldaean general, mention Arthur as the next Ituralde given a few more campaigns.

Merlin listened, deliberated, and offered his opinion at every war council as they went over the maps and sipped watered wine. At first, the lords had looked at him as at a strange animal, given the gift of voice; now the lords nodded sometimes. Merlin watched Arthur; he had grown into his own. Last time he had seen Arthur in command he had struggled with his men. Now they listened and considered his words before they spoke; Arthur now had his due.

"When Lance's men attack from here," Arthur was saying, his strong hands moving over the map. The lamplight shaded his skin, and Merlin heard no more of his words. He remembered those hands on him when he was Arthur's manservant, just so, and a stab of desire pooled low in his groin. He shifted, watching Arthur's hands, remembering them hard on his thighs, when he realised that one of the other men was talking and Arthur's head had raised to look at him, standing just beyond the circle of men. Arthur's eyes glittered at him, hot, and Merlin looked away. Oh.

He fumbled at the knot in his head, muffled now for a year. Almost as instinctively as what he'd done back then, he'd then wrapped it, concealed that feeling of Arthur in his head. Maybe proximity was allowing things to leak through. He rewrapped the knot again before looking back. Arthur was nodding at a lord's argument, impatiently, but his knuckles were white around his cup.

The meeting was coming to an end, and Merlin moved with the others to leave. He was about to duck through the flaps when Arthur stopped him.

"Asha'man. If you will."

The others gave him curious glances, Lance hesitating. He gave Merlin a pointed look when Arthur gestured for him to leave, and then they were alone. They were silent until voices trailed off away from the tent, far away enough that the heavy tent walls muffled their words.

"Morgana explained this," said Arthur abruptly. He flickered his hand between them. "What it is."

"I --. I didn't mean to ... do this." Merlin looked down, not wanting to see Arthur's face. "It can only be broken by death."

Arthur moved. He pulled his eating knife, its small blade pressing up against Merlin's throat. "Something easily remedied."

Merlin swallowed against the feeling of the blade. "You know what that would mean for you," he whispered, voice raw. "I would undo it if I could."

"Some might consider it a price worth paying," said Arthur. The knife didn't move. Merlin closed his eyes against the feel of it, the heat from Arthur's proximity pressing him all over. Arthur's angry hot breathing puffed against his face, and as suddenly as Arthur had moved to threaten him, he was gone.

Arthur's back was to him, rigid, fists clenched at his sides. The knife was at Merlin's feet. He raised a hand to his neck, almost certain to find a bloody line. His fingers came away clean.

"There are advantages," Merlin began, "to this bond. For you. Endurance. Strength"

Arthur cut him off. "How long?"

Merlin knew what he meant. Since the breaking, men wielding the One Power were doomed to go mad. For thousands of years the Dark One's taint had driven men mad. Their flesh would rot, and their mind leave, until they could no longer sense friend from foe and killed all around them in their madness, before they themselves died.

"Saidin has been cleansed," he said. "The Dragon Reborn and an Aes Sedai cleansed saidin of the Dark One's touch; the taint is gone. They were at Shadar Logoth. It exists no more. Saidin is now as clean as saidar; Asha'man will go mad no more than an Aes Sedai."

Arthur swung back to him, tense. "I had heard rumour of it. Morgana said that she could feel saidar being wielded to the east not long ago. Amounts of saidar she had never felt the strength of before. It was then?"

"Yes." Merlin had felt the same from the Black Tower. They had all felt it, and struggled against the need to Skim there to see what was happening. He had gone there later, and seen the crater where Shadar Logoth had once been. He hadn't seen it before, but from the size of the hole in the earth it had been a magnificent city, once.

"I could sense you." He didn't need to say when.

Merlin felt his face grow hot. He felt the temptation of the Void, just out of reach. Being wrapped emotionless in the Void, with the easy reach of saidin, would only make things worse. "I grew ... distracted. It won't happen again."

"Be sure that it does not, Asha'man." He was all cold formality. "I will see you another time."

"Arthur"

"I did not give you leave to my name," said Arthur.

"High Lord. The foreseeing. I need to be near to make certain nothing happens. Two weeks ago was only the latest"

"You are near me. You are in the camp, and you will do what is needed. Be content with that. I will see you another time." His eyes were hard, and Merlin, remembering the knife at his feet, touched his throat again briefly, then left.

Outside he stopped beside the guards and stood, breathing deeply. He imagined a flame, and enveloped himself into the Void. His shame and sorrow skittered along the outside, but he ignored them. He pushed his shoulders back and stode off, shakiness dispelled by wrestling with saidin.

The next day was turmoil. Seanchan wheeled overhead in their beasts, damane sending bolts of fire against companies, Asha'man parrying their moves. Merlin threw wave after wave of shields and fire at the beasts, sometimes succeeding in stopping the onslaught; sometimes they flew out of reach and wheeled back to the Seanchan, taking with them information of their numbers and placements.

Strange animals were in the fight, ripping men apart with a swipe of their head, their handlers spearing any they missed. Volleys of crossbolts and arrows headed into the Seanchan, putting them off, and then the Asha'man came in. Merlin saw Arthur here and there, fighting in the rear guard, and let his muffling of the bond slip a little. He sensed Arthur in his mind, felt a flash of shock and then a trickle of anger underpinning determined concentration. He let it be, the faint sense of Arthur being there reassuring that he was still alive, while he wove.

Waves of Fire and Earth. They ripped into the approaching army, a carnage of flesh and earth left behind. Screams, from men and animals both, came through the rumble of broken ground. Merlin could feel the two of the others directing their flow, falling short of his range, and he could feel their strength. They were weaker than he; Merlin had known he came not far behind al'Thor in strength, but feeling these two, chosen for their ability, he felt his raging torrent of saidin anew. He felt more alive, the roiling sickness from the Dark One's taint a faint memory, now gone.

There were still damane they had missed. Bursts of broken ground exploded amongst the men; a column of burst earth raced past him, and he felt Arthur change in his head. He let go his flows and ran to where he sensed Arthur was, stepping over bodies and broken ground alike, focusing on Arthur growing nearer, to the still body on the ground. A soldier had come and was carefully pulling Arthur up into a sitting position, staunching a wound on his side with a hastily wadded up scarf.

As he came up close he saw Arthur, face pale, blood flowing from his head. He saw him lying bleeding out as at the Illian battle two years previous, when he had been unable to help, watching Arthur die.

He turned back to the battle and took a step towards the faint booms, the roar of voices. Merlin seethed with saidin, anger slid around the outside of the Void, and he pulled as much of it into himself as he could, a distant prickling of skin. Someone else's skin. Merlin began weaving, not knowing the flows until they were complete, Air and Earth and Fire in a complex web. The weaves snapped into place, tearing raken from the sky in flames and opening chasms in the earth beneath the Seanchan armies. He shivered with the roaring of saidin, struggling to hold onto the force of its torrent, anger and fear spiderwebbing over the Void, ugly and red.

"Emrys." Arthur's voice was weak. The use of his name grabbed at him, and his attention wavered from the flows. He struggled against the directionless torrent for a moment, and turned back. "The Seanchan are retreating. That's enough."

He reached down without ceremony, grabbed Arthur's head in his hands and wove a Healing, the new sort discovered by Flinn. Arthur barely shuddered, but when he Delved he could feel Arthur had healed. He could feel Arthur had healed. Arthur's eyes focused on him, and Merlin pulled his hands away quickly, but was stopped before he could draw back.

Arthur had an unguarded look in his eye, free of the anger he'd seen these previous days. He could feel him, a fading sense of intense shock. Merlin muffled the bond again, feeling empty with the loss of Arthur sitting in the back of his mind.

"High Lord," said the soldier, whom Merlin suddenly recognised as Lance. "You are Healed." The distrust he'd seen on Lance's face these past days was still there, but muted. He had blood on him, Arthur's and his own.

Arthur stood up, pale and staggering a little. He let Merlin go and looked around at the broken earth about him.

Nutir had ceased his weaving and was coming close. Merlin nodded at him and waved a hand at him; he was fine. Nutir rejoined Kullyn with a last, lingering look at Merlin, then they continued with their flows, the Seanchan slowly retreating. The Seanchan strikes against the army had slowed somewhat; the others must have gotten the damane. It was to their luck that women weren't as strong in the One Power as men, and their flows could go only so far. They'd needed to come closer to the fight than the men had, and so more vulnerable. It was hard to think of these women dying after being collared into servitude, some against their will.

Merlin let go of the Void. Tiredness crashed down on him. He'd channelled as much of saidin as he had been able, more than he had ever before. He must have stepped up in his abilities again. He took a step, and his knees felt like water. Arthur grabbed his arm roughly, then one of the nearby men took hold of his elbow in a piercing grip until Merlin's knees were able to hold him up.

There were groaning men all around, and for the first time since he'd arrived in camp he saw Morgana moving amongst the men. Morgana Aes Sedai. She'd left the camp shortly after he'd arrived, but had returned the night before. A dark-skinned woman followed her, one of the Sea Folk. Morgana would stop now and then, and Merlin could feel the cool shiver of saidar, letting him know a woman was channelling nearby. Healing the wounded. Gauis was making rounds with herbs and boys following him with bowls of water and cleaning cloths.

A man rode up, and through his exhaustion Merlin could hear him report that the Seanchan had left the field. The battle had been won.

"Morgana! He needs Healing."

An icy torrent ran through him, Morgana's cool hands on his face. He flung his hands out and his back arched as her flows stabbed through him, peeling tiredness back until he could stand. Her face was expressionless, eyes cool like her hands, as she drew away.

"I see you've returned." Her eyes flickered between Arthur and himself, quickly, almost unnoticeable. "One of those ... men." Her face pinched a little when she took in his dishevelled form, his uniform. "You had no choice in the matter ... still."

Arthur was now in conference with his commanders, lords darting terrified looks his way. There had been no way to say who had been weaving saidin resulting in the carnage, but when he'd told Merlin to stop, he'd singled him out as the one responsible. As Merlin looked over at the battlefield he was overcome again with the terrified helplessness and rage he'd felt when Arthur'd been struck down. Carrion birds were already arriving and wheeling up above. The glint of armour on the Seanchan flashed everywhere, over countless number of the dead.

Morgana had moved on. The Sea Folk woman trailing behind her looked him over, nodding to him. She continued on as Morgana stopped here and there, by Morgana's elbow to assist when she overextended herself.

Merlin looked over at the men gathering towards the command tent, and thought of joining them. He thought of the frightened looks he'd receive from some, and the jovial back-slapping from those who weren't frightened. The celebrations of a battle won. His gorge rose at the thought of the plain strewn with dead men, and he turned back to the tent he shared with the other Asha'man.

They were nowhere to be seen when he arrived there. He fell onto his pallet with a hard thump, weariness making him dizzy. Images of circling birds swam in his mind, of the cries and groans over the winds flapping through the camp, of the wreckage of men and earth.

Merlin awakened suddenly, conscious of being watched. Carefully he began a weave of Air to bind the person in place and another of Fire for light. He quickly sat up and finished his weaves, tying them off. He blinked.

"High Lord." He let the weave of Air dissipate.

Arthur stood still, even with the bands of Air gone. He looked around at the two empty pallets, then back at Merlin. "Is that what you brought with you?" He nodded at the pack on the floor by his pallet.

"My Lord?"

"You might as well bring it with you, then."

Merlin stood up and shouldered his pack. "Where am I going, High Lord?"

"The Lord Dragon said you were to guard me," said Arthur, pushing the tent flap back. "You'll be able to do that better from nearby than the outer parts of camp."

Merlin pushed back his tiredness and followed Arthur across the camp. People had been busy while he'd been asleep; ripped tents had been fixed, weapons cleaned, horses brushed down. Men were murmuring quietly around cookpots. There were unfilled gaps at tables where men had once sat. The two Asha'man were finishing off their meals when Kullyn saw him and said something to Nutir. His head snapped up towards them and made to rise, but was kept in place by the Kullyn's hand. Merlin nodded at them as he went past; there would be time for explanations later.

They neared the commanding officers' circle of tents, and he brushed into a smaller just outside of it. Merlin followed, only to stop as soon as he was inside. It was small, with a pallet, blankets, and an enamelled basin.

"High Lord?"

"You'll stay here. This tent has been set aside for you. Your men will remain where they are. The officers aren't comfortable with the One Power in their midst." Arthur didn't look at him, gesturing around toward the inside, then slipped away.

He sat on the pallet, looking absently at the tent flaps, and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, removed his boots, and laid down on the pallet, focussing on the whorls of the felt tent. The bond was there to stay, no matter what Arthur wanted. He had taught the bond to others at the Black Tower, once he'd learned enough of the weaves to remember, vaguely, what he had done. Asha'man had worried about their wives and wanted to know they were in good health while they did the Lord Dragon's bidding. None had bonded men; only wives and Aes Sedai, who had spoken of their Warder bond. It was much the same, the Aes Sedai said, although an Aes Sedai could twist the truth until it stood on its head, making it almost indistinguishable from a lie. A bond could be passed to another, one sister told him, but Merlin couldn't think that Arthur would want any man to hold his bond, not even him.