Chapter 8

Merlin was sitting, in utter dejection, at the table. He was pushing his food around on the plate with his fork, but showing no real interest in it. And Gaius was sitting opposite him, watching him and fearing for him. Merlin suddenly threw his fork down on his plate, but when he spoke, there was no emotion in his voice. "I keep coming back to it again and again, Gaius, if only I had been with him….."

"Merlin, you must stop punishing yourself. It wasn't your fault. You mustn't blame yourself for something you had no control over." He paused, giving time for his words to sink in, and then laid his hand on Merlin's and leaned forward slightly towards him. "And have you considered the possibility that you not being with Arthur may be the only reason that you at least are still sitting here today?"

Merlin, however, took no comfort from this and - as had been the case with Uther earlier - his mood changed to one of bitterness. He threw his hands up, as if to say, what's the point, as he continued. "And what was the purpose of it all? I was told my gifts were to protect Arthur, but I couldn't save him, Gaius. I couldn't save him." And Merlin's tone became angry as well as bitter, "What is "destiny" supposed to mean when it turns out to be a complete lie?"

Gaius sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I don't understand it, Merlin, any more than you do. But your life and your gifts will not be wasted I'm sure." The young sorcerer couldn't look at his mentor any more and fixed his eyes on the table, and Gaius continued in the same gentle but firm tone he had used with the king. "Merlin, you are the most remarkable person I have ever met. I have watched you grow and mature, and you served Arthur better than he ever knew….."

Merlin interrupted, the bitterness in his voice still evident. "But what was the point if the one time I couldn't be with him he's killed. Where's the destiny in that?"

But before their conversation could continue, they were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Gwaine entered without waiting for a reply.

"I've come to say goodbye…."

Merlin sighed and shook his head as if hit by another blow. "Why? Why can't you stay, Gwaine? You have friends here!"

"Yeah, but I don't think my welcome in Camelot will be quite as warm, now that…. " His words faded. He couldn't bring himself to say the words that he knew would be so painful to Merlin, so he just said, "You know." Although Gwaine valued – though he didn't admit it – his friendships with Merlin and the other knights, he was also very aware that the king had only tolerated him for Arthur's sake. "Well, anyway, I'm leaving first thing in the morning." He paused before adding, "You could come with me?"

Merlin managed a smile at this proposal. "I don't think touring the taverns of the land has quite the same attraction for me as it does for you."

Gwaine countered with something approaching a smile, "You don't know what you're missing!"

Merlin's mood lightened. "Hangovers, fights, getting arrested? Funnily enough, I do!" But then he added, "Besides, there are others here in Camelot who still need me."

He looked at Gaius, who smiled at Merlin's response, pleased that Merlin did still see some point in his life, and grateful for this acknowledgement of their friendship.

Merlin added finally, "Come back and visit us, Gwaine. I still think Camelot needs people like you too."

A wry smile came to the knight's face, "Well, when the money runs out, or when I need somewhere to hide….."

They all shared a brief laugh, but then as quickly as it came, the mood of jollity left, and a sad and solemn silence hung over them again. Merlin and Gwaine gave each other a nod, and with that Gwaine turned and left.

Merlin's sense of desolation, which had been there before the interruption, only seemed to increase after Gwaine's departure. He stood up suddenly. "I'm going to my room" and with that he left Gaius sitting at the table, went into his room, and shut the door behind him. The book on magic that his mentor had given him after he first arrived in Camelot had always been treasured by him, and he had spent countless hours devouring its contents and learning its spells. He lifted the floorboard, beneath which it was hidden, dragged out the heavy book, and propped himself up on the bed, so that he was half laying, half sitting. He rested the book on his chest, and began flicking through it idly. But even his most precious possession couldn't stir any interest in him that evening, however, and he read a few pages without really caring what he was reading. He found himself looking at a spell that he couldn't remember having seen before. It was something to do with dreams, but the truth was that he wasn't particularly interested in it, and so even as he read the words of the spell in his head, he wasn't taking them in. His grief had left him feeling listless and weary, and even though it was still only early in the evening, he found himself beginning to nod, and soon gave up reading completely and closed his eyes.

It only took a minute or two for him to drift off into sleep, but as he lay on the bed, the scenes of a dream began to play out in his subconscious mind. He was walking along stone corridors looking for something. He had lost something but couldn't remember what it was that he had lost. Where was it? What was it? He didn't recognise the rooms that he was walking through, but that didn't matter to him. He knew that what he had lost, whatever it was, was somewhere there, and he was sure that when he saw it, he would remember it. What on earth was it? All he knew was that it was something of great value, something irreplaceable. He walked up some steps into another room, and looked around. No, it wasn't there either. He walked down the steps again, and along a different corridor. He passed men whom he didn't recognise, who either didn't seem him or who didn't care that he was there. Either way, they paid no attention to him. Into another room. Where was it? What was it that he'd lost? If only he could remember! He knew that he had been entrusted with it. It was something that he should taken great care of, and not let out of his sight. But somehow – he didn't remember that either – he'd lost it. He knew that he had to find it, that it was of utmost importance that he got it back again. How could he have been so careless to lose something of such immense value? He had to keep on looking.

Finally, he came to the top of a long flight of steps that led downwards into gloom. Something in him recoiled. He didn't want to go down the steps. He was afraid of what was down there. But he knew that he had to keep on looking, and something in him told him that whatever it was he was looking for was down there. He walked slowly down the steps, and as he did so the light began to fade. At the bottom he found himself at the end of another stone corridor, and he could just make out in the dark a heavy wooden door at the end of it. He began to walk towards the door and with each step the fear within him increased, and his heart began to pound. He had to find what he had lost, but there was something evil, something terrible ahead of him, and he had to force himself on. He reached the door and pushed it. It swung open, but the room beyond it was in total darkness. He had to fight the terror that began to grip him. It was as if there was a monster, something terribly evil, lurking there in the dark. But he also knew that whatever he'd lost - that thing of immense value - was somewhere there, in the darkness too. Even in his dream, Merlin knew that he had magic, and so he lifted his hand and prepared to utter the words that would ignite a brilliant light in his hand, and would show him whatever the darkness was hiding.