Chapter II: Pestilence

"A fork in the road? How cliché."

Morgana started. She'd thought that she was alone, that the only people nearby were Arthur and the strangely familiar blond woman, but apparently not.

The man was tall and slender, clad in a navy cloak over gray trousers and a forest green tunic. Pale, long-fingered hands loosely grasped a jewel-topped staff. But the hands were the only part of his skin that Morgana could see. The hood of his cloak was pulled over his head, casting his face into unnatural shadow despite the cloud-filtered daylight around them. Since the man was standing right next to her, Morgana should have been able to see his face despite the cloak's hood, but all she could make out was a pair of yellow eyes that glowed like flame in the dim light.

"Wouldn't you agree, my lady?" the man asked. His unusual eyes glittered with mischief.

Oddly, Morgana was not at all disturbed by the stranger's presence or the obviously magical concealment of his features. She replied easily, as though she'd known and trusted him all her life. "That a fork in the road is cliché?"

"Mm-hmm." The man gestured at the fork in the road ahead of them, where the path Morgana was following (or perhaps not following. She had just been standing around, not walking or riding or moving at all, until the man's sudden and inexplicable appearance) split in two. The right fork led to Arthur, crown gleaming on his head, scarlet cape billowing out behind him. The left lane led to a woman in a red dress. Morgana was too far from her to make out many details, but she could see that the blond was pretty and fairly young, only a few years older than herself. She and Arthur were glaring at one another with unmistakable loathing.

"I don't think it's cliché at all," Morgana told the stranger. "One road can't lead to two places. It's a simple fact of civil engineering."

He chuckled. "That's not exactly what I meant."

"Oh? Then what did you mean?"

"Don't worry about it yet. We've got a long while before you reach that point."

Morgana arched a brow. "It's not that far," she pointed out.

"It's farther than it looks," the man replied. "Besides, there are quite a few… difficulties… between here and there."

Morgana looked. The stranger was right: the road before them was riddled with pitfalls and ruts and puddles and thorns. Dangerous beasts lurked just off the poorly paved surface, their eyes glinting in the light. Morgana desperately wished that she had her sword.

"Ah," said the man, staring at the puddle right in front of them. The ugly pool was practically mud, earth and water mingling to create something slimy and foul. They stood so close to the scummy puddle that it was practically lapping at their toes. "Here's the first of them."

And then the water was boiling up, bubbling, shooting like a geyser into the air, and she glimpsed teeth and slime and foulness in its depths, and snapping jaws lunged at her—

Morgana le Fay woke with a scream.

"Are you absolutely certain it's magic that's causing this plague?" Merlin asked.

"I believe so," Gaius sighed. "I have never seen anything like it before." A rueful smile. "Of course, even if it were not sorcery, I still would not know what caused it. No one knows what causes most diseases, only how to cure them."

"So what causes the ones we do know about?"

"Many things." Gaius smiled at him. "Perhaps I'll make a physician of you yet."

Despite his worry about the plague, Merlin grinned back. "I think I'd like that, Gaius. Let's start with him." And with that, the boy trotted over to a groaning man on the side of the road. Traffic eddied around him, trying to avoid anyone with the telltale white skin and blue-black veins that marked a victim of the plague.

Gaius stopped beaming. "No, Merlin."

"No?"

"It breaks my heart to say so, but… we need to find the cure. I cannot do that if we take everyone in."

Merlin didn't understand. "But you're the physician."

"And that is why I must find the cure. I need to save all the people, and I cannot do that if I take on every patient."

Merlin thought about it for a moment before concluding that, while Gaius had a point about prioritizing, that was still no reason for the court physician to abandon a diseased man to die in the streets. "Then I'll take care of them."

"I'll need your help to find the cure."

"Really? Because I've only been learning medicine for a month. I know enough to maybe look after the ones who are sick, make them as comfortable as possible, but I don't know a thing about curing a plague that you've never even heard of."

"Merlin—"

"You can't just leave him to die on the streets!" And with that, the young warlock knelt down to the sick man, who had been watching their interactions with a combination of hope and fear. As Merlin helped him to his feet, he choked out his thanks, his gratitude. The younger man smiled. "Don't mention it. I'll get you to the infirmary."

"If the plague keeps spreading at this rate, it will not be long before the victims can no longer fit," Gaius pointed out.

"I'll think of something," Merlin muttered sulkily.

Gaius fixed him with the eyebrow.

"I will!"

Gaius clearly did not approve, but he said nothing as he walked away, outpacing Merlin and his burden in short order. As he half-supported, half-dragged the ill man (whose name was Johnny, he said) along, Merlin thought about what he was going to do. Gaius seemed… not quite content, but certainly willing to let people die around him while he searched for the cure. A part of Merlin understood that: if Gaius was distracted, he wouldn't have time to research and no one would ever get better. On the other hand, he'd been willing to leave a man to die slowly and painfully on the streets of Camelot, abandoned by his friends and family for fear that they would fall ill themselves. That was just….

They reached the infirmary just as Merlin concocted a plan. A good plan, he thought, helping Johnny into a spare cot. The man collapsed, sweat beading on his brow.

"Something for the pain?" he asked, eyeing one of the few medicines whose purpose he already knew.

Johnny nodded.

"Right." Merlin fetched a painkiller, poured it into the other man's mouth. "It has the side effect of making you drowsy, but that's a good thing. You'll need to rest, keep your strength up until we can make you better."

"Thank you."

Merlin smiled, feeling a warm glow inside. "I have to go now. Try to sleep, okay?"

Johnny's eyes were already more than half closed. He nodded vaguely.

Gaius gestured for his ward. "Start—"

"I have to talk to Arthur." Merlin didn't give his guardian the opportunity to respond. He darted from the sickroom into the halls.

Arthur was in the archives, talking with Geoffrey of Monmouth about whether he'd read of any plagues like this. Judging from their expressions, he hadn't.

"Arthur, I have an idea about the plague."

The prince sighed. "Just because you got lucky about Valiant—"

"No, I don't have any idea what's causing it or how to cure it."

"Then what are you here for?"

"Gaius is researching a cure," the manservant explained, "and that means he doesn't have time to take care of the people. Is it possible to set up some kind of emergency hospital where the sick can gather? Even if that doesn't stop it from spreading, they'll be nearby when Gaius finds a cure."

Arthur blinked. "And he can test potential cures on them. That's actually not a bad idea."

Merlin smirked before his face became serious again. "So can you do it?"

"No."

Merlin's face crumpled.

"I don't have the authority," Arthur explained. "You'll have to talk with my father about that."

Merlin's stomach dropped right through his feet. "Talk to the king?" he repeated faintly. And not just any king, but Uther Pendragon himself. Uther, who had instigated the Great Purge. Uther, who had made Merlin grow up in fear, who had haunted his childhood nightmares, who was already far too aware of the warlock's existence. Merlin would rather not attract more of Uther's attention, thank you very much.

"Don't look like that, Merlin. He doesn't bite."

"Yes. I know. I just thought that since he's the king and your father and since I'm just a scrawny peasant, as you so frequently remind me, you would have wanted to do it yourself. I doubt I'd even get into the throne room."

"Another good point."

"No need to sound so surprised about it, sire."

Arthur's lips twitched. "Actually, Merlin, there's every need to sound so surprised about it. That's two good points in a row. Geoffrey, you need to take note of this historic occasion."

"Of course, sire." The old man stifled a grin.

"Come along then, Merlin." Arthur strode out into the halls.

Uther was going over some form of paperwork when his son and his servant arrived. Merlin thought that the king looked a bit grateful for the interruption. "Yes, Arthur?"

"Father, do you recall the abandoned garrisons in the eastern wing?"

"What about them?"

"No one is using them. Merlin here thinks that the garrisons could be temporarily commandeered as an emergency hospice for plague victims. He has volunteered to care for the sick himself."

Uther considered. "If I were to permit such a thing, the patients would be quarantined. I'll not have them risk my household."

Merlin jerked his head in a nod.

"It would also keep the diseased out of the town," Arthur pointed out. "Perhaps that could stop the plague from spreading."

"It would," Uther agreed, "but tell me. Why not use Gaius's chambers for this?"

He was talking to Merlin. He was asking Merlin a question. The magic-hating king was looking at him and asking him a question. Merlin told his heart to stop fluttering like a bird's, told himself that he needed to stop flinching whenever Uther turned his gaze on him. He'd gotten better this past month, had stopped fearing whenever the king looked at his son (and consequently on his son's manservant). This, though? This was direct attention from a man he'd been terrified of since he knew what terror was.

But the king had asked him a question, and he had to answer. Merlin swallowed, explained, "Gaius is researching a cure in his chambers. He needs to be able to focus."

Uther accepted that. "Very well. You, boy, start gathering medical supplies. Arthur, send some servants to prepare the old garrisons, then spread word that I'll address the people in one hour's time." He lowered his gaze, dismissing the younger men.

Arthur bowed. Merlin hastily followed suit.

"One last thing," Uther added. "When you have completed these tasks, Arthur, resume your efforts to find and kill the sorcerer responsible."

Merlin managed not to blanch. He bowed again before scurrying out of the room.

Gaius was doing… something… with a flask of… Merlin didn't even know what. The physician didn't look up as he asked, "Come to your senses yet?"

"I'm to look after the sick while you search for a cure."

Gaius nearly dropped his flask. "What?"

Merlin shrugged. "King's orders, Gaius."

"That is not what I meant," the physician snapped. "How exactly do you intend to look after the sick?"

"Give them a place to sleep, water to drink, stuff like that."

Gaius did not seem convinced. "I see."

Merlin grit his teeth. "I don't know how to cure them, Gaius. But if I did, would it really be so bad to save dozens of lives?" Before his mentor could answer, he changed the subject. "How is your search for the cure going?"

Gaius gave his ward a long, steady look before replying, "I'm looking at the contents of a dead man's stomach. Whatever is causing this plague has to be ingested. The spell has contaminated the food or water, perhaps both."

Merlin's eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh. That is really bad."

"Since the disease has only affected people in the lower town, I believe that it's something in the food supply. Nobles don't eat what peasants do."

"That makes sense." Merlin grabbed an armful of rags. "Maybe grains? The nobles get the best flour."

"That is what I thought. I'll need to acquire samples."

"Right." Merlin hastened out the door.

It took him longer than he liked to find the east garrisons. He hadn't been in the castle very long, and it was so big and filled with far too many passages and rooms. Not to mention that the east garrisons were in the least-used part of the castle. Fortunately, quite a few other servants were heading that way. He followed one of the maids into a dust-filled barrack. Other maids were busy fighting against the dust, wiping it off bed frames and sweeping it out the door while others unrolled moth-eaten pallets. Merlin looked around rather helplessly. Other than the bed frames, there wasn't any furniture in the room, nowhere to leave his rags. He eventually settled for leaving them on one of the beds before returning to Gaius's chambers for another load.

The physician wasn't there. Merlin assumed that he was off acquiring a grain sample or something. He considered going for painkillers, but one look at Gaius's shelves was enough to make him back away. Though he recognized the concoction he'd given Johnny, he still didn't know what three-quarters of those vials contained and had no desire to accidentally poison anybody. With that in mind, he grabbed another armful of rags and returned to the barrack.

The castle maids were apparently the most efficient women in the world. Somehow, they had already cleared the sickroom of dust and were now focused on preparing the beds. Still no tables or anything, though. Merlin asked an older woman if she could get some more furniture before leaving once again.

This time, he didn't return right away to Gaius's chambers. Instead, he made his way to the kitchens, where he commandeered one of the carts which waiters used to haul out roast boar and other enormous dishes. He could load painkillers and other medicines onto the cart and cushion them with more rags. He couldn't get the cart all the way to the eastern garrison—too many stairs between Gaius's territory and the abandoned barrack—but this was still much more efficient.

Gaius still hadn't returned. Merlin chewed his lip. He couldn't load his cart with unknown medicines, Johnny was doing as well as could be expected, and he really didn't want to waste time….

"He's going to kill me," the young man muttered, then ran into his own room.

His spell book was lying carelessly on the floor. He'd have to do something about that, find a place to hide it. But for now, he had to find something in it.

Flip through the pages. Stop. Was this—no, just another false lead. Sigh in frustration, try again. Stop. Here it is!

Merlin ran his finger over the instructions for the spell. A poultice, he'd have to make a poultice. Was it reusable? The book didn't say. Best get supplies for several of them, then. Good thing that shouldn't be too hard—Gaius was very good about keeping his herb supplies stocked.

The physician in question still wasn't back, but this time, Merlin was glad. He really didn't want to get caught. He just knew that if Gaius found out what he was planning, the man would somehow manage to guilt him into not saving lives. How that worked, Merlin wasn't quite certain. He just knew that it would.

The warlock loaded up the herbs, some more linens, and a few bottles of the same substance he'd given Johnny, which he wrapped in the cloths so they wouldn't break.

He spent the rest of the afternoon in much the same fashion, conveying vials and herbs and rags back and forth. His impromptu sickroom filled up with patients in various stages of the illness, groaning and moaning and, yes, dying on his watch.

When the first patient died, Merlin nearly broke down. It took Gwen's calloused hand on his back, her soft soothing words, to hold him together. The maidservant was a godsend, distributing medicines, wiping sweat from brows, directing her fellow servants in their duties. Now she patted Merlin's back and held him as he shook.

Finally, the embarrassed warlock backed away. He knew he looked a mess: cheeks flushed, nose running, eyes reddened, hair sticking up in all directions. "'Scuse me," he mumbled, "I just need to…."

"Of course." Gwen gave him one last pat. "I'll take care of—" She swallowed. "I'll do what I can for her."

"Thanks," Merlin whispered. "You're an angel, Gwen."

The girl shook her head, dark curls bouncing, and went to tend to the dead. Merlin looked after her for a minute, then squared his shoulders and went to look after the living.

He'd stashed the herbs needed for the poultice in his shirt. He didn't have many on him—the rest were still in the sickroom—just enough for a single spell. Hopefully it was reusable, though with the way his luck had been going…. Merlin grimaced. He'd find out soon.

It did not take long to create the poultice. Unfortunately, there was a bit of a problem. The stupid thing glowed.

"Of course it does," the warlock grumbled, glaring at the cure as though it had caused the disease. "Of course it glows."

So he'd need some kind of excuse to send everybody off. Maybe… maybe send them to spread the word about the food supply being contaminated? No. Gaius wasn't certain what exactly carried the contagion. Perhaps…? Yes, that would work. He felt like an awful human being for even thinking of it, but if it got his audience away before more people died, it would be worth it. Besides, he thought with a chill, it was a perfectly legitimate concern.

Stuffing the poultice and its telltale glow into his bag, Merlin returned to the sickroom. Once there, he made a beeline for Gwen, the only other healthy individual in the room. Part of him wondered what had happened to the other maids, but he didn't particularly care where they were as long as they weren't here. "You have family here, right?"

"Yes," she replied. "My dad and I live in the lower town."

"Have you checked on him?"

Brown eyes went wide. "No." Gwen started automatically for the door, but froze in mid-step. "I shouldn't leave. I know I shouldn't, but—"

"Go," Merlin told her. "If it were my mum, I'd already be out the door."

The maid hesitated, glancing at the plague's other victims. Most were sleeping, and the ones who weren't were falling asleep. "Can you handle everything?"

"There's not much to handle," Merlin sighed. "Besides, the others will probably be back soon."

"Right." Gwen nodded once, then jogged from the room. "I'll be back in a few minutes, Merlin."

As long as no one else came in, that would be enough time. Just to buy himself a few extra seconds, Merlin shut the door behind Gwen. If the rusty lock had still been functional, he'd have bolted the door shut.

Heart hammering, Merlin approached Johnny's bed. The man hadn't woken up since he'd been taken from Gaius's chambers. His breathing was shallow and irregular, rattling in his throat. He didn't have long. Swallowing hard, Merlin placed the poultice on the other man's head. Clearly and carefully, he intoned, "Þu fornimest adl fram guman!"

The poultice's glow brightened. Little flecks of golden light misted off of it, made their way into Johnny's skin. The man gave a low groan. The paleness didn't fade from his skin, but the black veins seemed a bit less prominent, and he was definitely breathing easier. The awful death-rattle was gone.

The book had recommended that the poultice remain in contact with the patient for at least a minute after the healing spell was invoked. Merlin counted to sixty, then, fearing he'd counted too fast, went on to a hundred. Shaking hands removed the remedy from Johnny's brow, moved onto the next patient.

It turned out that the poultice did have more than one shot. The next patient, a somewhat portly middle-aged woman, inhaled the same golden mist. She, too, breathed more easily.

Merlin managed to cure four more people before someone pushed the door open. The poultice, its work fortunately complete, shot up to the ceiling. Merlin spun around, nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Am I interrupting something?" Gaius queried.

Merlin sighed with relief. The tension drained from his shoulders. "Oh. Hello, Gaius. I thought you might be Gwen."

"And why, pray tell, did you react so strongly to Gwen's return?"

Merlin managed not to glance up at his poultice, which was crushed almost flat against the ceiling, but it was a close call. His eye twitched a little as he replied, "She's checking on her father. I thought she might have come back."

"I see." Gaius plainly wasn't buying it. "There has been another fatality."

Merlin's heart leapt in his chest. "What?"

"A noblewoman."

"But you said it would only affect peasants!"

"I thought it would only affect peasants," Gaius corrected. "And if it had been caused by some contamination of the food supply, it would have. I need you to come with me to take a water sample."

"But…."

"Unless you're doing something you should not?"

Yes, that was definite disapproval. Oddly, instead of cowing him, that disapproval made Merlin straighten his spine and lower his poultice. "Can you take Gwen with you instead?" He guided the poultice to another patient's brow. "Þu fornimest adl fram guman!"

"Merlin!" Gaius cried. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No, I'm trying to keep people alive. If you want to do the same, take Gwen with you to get the water sample and find some way of keeping the other maids out."

Ordinarily, Gaius would have argued. He would have made noises about the risk, about caution and sense and keep the magic hidden. But that day, Merlin was as fierce as his falcon namesake. The physician grimaced but accepted defeat. "Very well. But be careful."

"I will." Merlin moved the poultice to another patient, spoke his spell once again. Nothing happened.

The patient didn't move.

Ignoring the chill in his chest, Merlin repeated the spell, spoke it loudly and clearly. Nothing. Probably, he told himself, the poultice probably just ran out of magic. Never mind that it glowed as brightly as before.

Gaius glided over, inspected the patient. The physician sighed, shook his head. "She's dead, Merlin."

The warlock crumpled.

That was how Gwen found them, staring down at the corpse and speaking not a word. "What happened?" she asked.

"She's dead," Merlin explained, turning to face his friend. He didn't step forward, partly because he didn't want to leave the corpse and partly because that might result in Gwen seeing the poultice.

"I believe that there is a contamination in the water supply," Gaius said softly, directing Gwen's attention away from the patient and the poultice on her chest. Merlin's eyes flashed gold. The poultice zoomed under the dead woman's cot. "Would you come with me to get a water sample, Gwen?"

"Merlin, will you be all right if Gaius and I go do that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so." He smiled sadly. "I just wish it could have been different." If he'd been faster….

"So do I," whispered Gwen, and Merlin saw that her brown eyes were swimming with tears.

Gaius and Gwen left. Merlin returned to his work. He needed to make three more poultices before the job was done, but in the end, he'd managed to work his magic on everybody but two patients. Those two patients were dead. Merlin made arrangements for the corpses to be transported out, at which point he learned that Uther had forbidden the sick peoples' families access to the quarantined zone. To prevent contagion (apparently he hadn't heard that the disease spread through food or water), only Gaius, Merlin, and five maids-turned-nurses were allowed into the eastern garrisons. Gwen and Gaius were off collecting water. The other four nurses were still trying to comfort the hysterical mother of the first deceased, who refused to let any of the girls out of her sight. Her sobs echoed throughout the corridors, and none of the maids could bear to leave her. They really were sorry for not helping Merlin out more, one said as the warlock passed, but the poor mother was just so miserable and everyone was sleeping and this seemed like a more productive use of their time. Merlin assured her that he understood.

All he wanted to do was grab his sleeping clothes and maybe a bite to eat (he knew he should be hungry despite his lack of appetite), but that was not to be. Gwen and Gaius were pouring over one of the physician's books. They looked up as Merlin entered his guardian's chambers, relaxing when they saw it was him.

"There's a thing in the water," Gwen blurted.

"An afanc," Gaius said. "It's poisoning the water supply. To save Camelot, we must find a way to defeat it."

"You think your books have something like that?"

"I certainly hope so."

And how long would it take Gaius to find a way? Too long. Not to mention there was no guarantee of success. But Merlin could think of someone who ought to know a thing or two about afancs. After all, he'd been around for a thousand years and more.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Camelot Acquires a Temporary Center for Disease Control"

Some notes: This scene was born from my frustration at Gaius's handling of the disease in 1X03. I get that he had to find the cure. I really do. I also get that he was the person best equipped to do so. But leaving people like Johnny in the street (which actually happened. There's a scene where Gaius drags Merlin away from a dying plague victim who was just sitting in the street, moaning and in pain) was still unacceptable. If nothing else, he didn't know how the disease was spread, and leaving the sick guy in a public place could have resulted in anyone passing by could have gotten infected. Also, moving the sick to a centralized location meant that he'd know where to find them once he found the cure. There's about a million different things he did wrong in that episode, and I'm trying to fix it so fewer people die.

Also, Gwen's dad is not ill because I'm messing with the timeline. I can do that in AUs, dontcha know.

Next update: July 3. Cryptic Kilgharrah (as though there's any other version!), an afanc fight, and an explanation for Nimueh's baffling behavior in episodes 3 and 4.