Chapter XIX: The Druid Boy

Merlin was on his way to the laundry room when he heard the voice. Well, perhaps 'heard' wasn't the right term for it. His mind perceived the plea, not his ears.

"Help me! Please, somebody help me!"

Merlin's heart leapt in his chest. He jumped, nearly scattering the contents of the laundry basket in his arms all over the courtyard. For one wild moment he wondered if Kilgharrah had come, but a second later he chided himself for being so stupid. This voice definitely did not belong to the dragon; a voice less like Kilgharrah's could hardly be imagined. Where the dragon was old and wise and serene, this speaker was young and frightened and desperate.

He was just a little child, and he was completely terrified. But where was he?

Fortunately, the boy chose that moment to cry out again, allowing Merlin to pinpoint at least his general direction. "Someone! Anyone! They're going to kill me!"

"No," Merlin growled, turning in the direction of the silent voice, "they will not." He strode towards the child.

"Hurry!" the boy cried, and then he was silent.

Merlin was already almost jogging. At the child's cry, he abandoned the laundry basket in an alley and broke into a run.

There was a clamor of some sort up ahead. Merlin heard the rattling of armor and a crashing noise. "Again!" a man's voice bellowed. There was another crash. Something shattered.

Merlin turned the corner. A young boy in a teal cloak was sprinting down the street. His face was red with exertion and glistening with sweat. He couldn't hold up much longer. Several buildings down, a soldier in the red cloak of a Camelot guardsman darted into the open.

The warlock weighed his options. The guard and the boy he was pursuing were both in plain sight. It wouldn't take the guard long to catch the tired boy, so he couldn't hope that the child would outrun him. He either had to fight, thereby revealing his magic to half the city, or find some way to make the boy disappear into thin air.

Merlin chose the option with fewer potential fatalities. Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped outside of time.

The world froze. The wind died down. Conversation stopped. Hunter and hunted floated in midair.

The warlock froze, eyes going wide. This is… new. Normally, he could only make things slow down. They would still move, but it was like they were moving through thick jelly. Now, though, everyone and everything was completely still, completely stunned. He hadn't just slowed time. He had stopped it.

He was getting stronger.

Merlin shivered at the thought. His own strength scared him sometimes, though it was a source of secret pride as well. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about getting stronger.

But now was not the time for introspection. He didn't know how long he could maintain the spell even with his new strength, and he had a little boy to rescue.

The warlock jogged over to the frozen child. Hoping and praying that what he was about to attempt would work, Merlin grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him outside of time.

The boy jerked into motion, zooming on ahead. Merlin tightened his grip on the child's arm, stopping him before he got too far. The child, not realizing that his new captor was a friend, cried out. He struggled against Merlin's grip, twisting and thrashing and doing everything in his power to escape.

"Don't worry. I've got you." Merlin spoke with his mind, not with his voice. It was another drain on his rapidly diminishing magic, but speaking to the child with magic seemed like the best way to convince him he was safe. Sure enough, the child ceased his struggles. He looked up.

"You're safe now," Merlin assured him, not moving his lips.

"But I'm not," the child protested. "The guards will be here any second."

Merlin couldn't help it. He grinned. "Look around."

The child looked around, taking in the silent, frozen street. He gasped, his eyes bulging. "You stopped time."

"Yes," Merlin said aloud, "but I can only keep it this way for a few more minutes." The thought-speech was already giving him a headache, and he could feel the universe trying to speed up. It was like trying to hold water in his hands. He couldn't keep this up much longer. "Just come with me."

The boy didn't hesitate. "I will."

Merlin kept hold of the boy's hand as he led him through the street. It was a bit awkward, but he didn't know if he could keep his new charge outside of time without physical contact. Even if he could, it would be difficult and draining. He was tiring rapidly. When they reached the alleyway where he had abandoned the laundry basket, he wanted nothing more than to release his hold on the world. But he couldn't, not until he had completed the boy's disguise.

The child was tall for his age and slender, with dark hair, pale skin, and light eyes. He looked a bit like Merlin, and the warlock fully intended to capitalize on that.

"Give me your cloak," the warlock ordered. The child obeyed. Merlin stuffed the teal cloth into the laundry basket, making sure to cover it with as many of his and Gaius and Arthur's clothes as possible. He took out one of his neckerchiefs, a red one that wasn't too dirty, and quickly tied it around the lad's neck.

And then he couldn't hold it any longer. "I'm going to release the spell now, okay? But don't be afraid."

"I won't be," the child replied.

Merlin nearly cried with relief as he released the spell. His head pounded and spun, making it very difficult to remain upright. He staggered, might have fallen if the child hadn't caught him. The boy helped him onto the ground, where he sat with his back slumped against the wall.

"Sorry about that," the warlock said once he had caught his breath. "I've never done that before. Not the stepping out of time thing, I've been doing that for years. But this is the first time I did it for two people at once."

He thought back to how he had saved Gaius, how he'd slowed time all around him—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he'd sped himself up. He really didn't know. Gaius said that there had been spellbinders who could step outside of time, but they were so rare that he had only a few scattered, cryptic references to how they did it. Cornelius Sigan had been one, as had the legendary Fisher King of lost Listeneise, but their grimoires (assuming they had any) weren't in Camelot.

"So here's the plan," Merlin continued. "If anyone asks, you're my little brother. You're here in Camelot without our mother because—er—because you had a fight with her and ran away from home. It is nothing but an unfortunate coincidence that you arrived here the same day Uther decided to send his guards after an innocent child."

The boy stared at him, eyes huge, before jerking his head in a nod.

"My name's Merlin. You should probably know that, us being brothers and all. We're from a little village in Essetir. It's called Ealdor. Our mother's name is Hunith. What's yours?"

"My mother's name?" The child sounded confused.

"No, your name."

"Mordred," the boy said.

"So you can stay with me and Gaius—he's my great-uncle—for the evening, and tomorrow I'll take a couple days off to bring my brother home. Once we're out of the city, I can either bring you to Ealdor or find your real relatives. How does that plan sound?"

"It's good," the boy agreed, "but what about Cerdan?"

Merlin's blood turned to ice. "Cerdan?"

"My foster father," Mordred explained. "We were here to get supplies for winter. Then the bloodcloaks…."

Merlin could have kicked himself. Of course this kid had family. Of course he wasn't wandering through Camelot alone. "I—I don't know. Could you call to him like you did with me? I'd do it myself, but I think that time spell is giving me a migraine."

Mordred nodded. "Cerdan," he cried silently, "Father. Where are you?"

Pigeons cooed. Voices chatted. The two young warlocks inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. Yet though the physical world was full of noise, they heard nothing with their minds.

"Cerdan?" Mordred called again. "Cerdan, please talk to me. Please."

But there was no response but silence.

"He could just be unconscious," Merlin offered, knowing exactly how unlikely that was.

Mordred's pale eyes had gone dull and lifeless. "He could be," the boy mumbled.

"If there is anything I can do, I will do it," Merlin vowed.

Life sparked in Mordred's eyes. "Thank you, Emrys," he whispered.

Emrys.

The name sent shivers coursing through Merlin's veins. Emrys, Ambrosius. Both words had similar effects on him, both were his his his on a level that he had trouble comprehending, but this name was even more than Ambrosius. It felt right, like coming home, like saving a life and seeing Arthur question his father's hate and knowing in his marrow that this is what he'd been born for.

"Why did you call me that?" he asked, blinking the gold from his eyes.

The boy was surprised. "Because there is no one else you can be."

"You'll have to explain that when we're out of the open," Merlin muttered. He forced himself to his feet. He was still a bit dizzy, yes, but he thought he could hear a guard's voice barking questions. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Mordred asked, walking by Merlin's side.

"The court physician's chambers. I'm sort of his apprentice. Of course, I'm also Arthur's—ah, the prince's—manservant and protector."

Mordred's brow creased. "Arthur Pendragon?"

"The one and only."

"He is the Once and Future King?"

Merlin smiled at the incredulity in his 'brother's' voice. "That was my first reaction too. I asked Kilgharrah—he's a dragon, the one who told me about Arthur's destiny—if he was sure that he had the right Arthur, because this one is an absolute idiot. We'd gotten off on the wrong foot, you see, and when Kilgharrah told me that Uther's dolt of a son would save magic I told him that I'd be more likely to help kill Arthur than to protect him."

"What changed?"

"I saved his life."

"But… you're certain now?"

He had to be certain. If Arthur didn't restore magic, then Merlin's sacrifices would mean nothing. Admittedly, he hadn't sacrificed a great deal yet, but he'd still betrayed a sorcerer to death and made an enemy of Nimueh, and he had the feeling that he'd have to sacrifice a great deal more in the future. The more he invested in Arthur, the more he had to ensure magic's freedom.

But Mordred didn't need to hear about the doubts that sometimes kept Merlin awake. He needed certainty and strength and safety, and Merlin had already bungled things by almost fainting after he released the time spell. "Yes. I'm certain. He still needs work, but he has the potential to become a great king."

"'And the son shall repent of the sins of his father, quenching the flames and dispelling the smoke into the breeze.'" Mordred nodded solemnly. "It makes sense, then, that it would be Uther Pendragon's son."

"Yes," Merlin agreed, even though he had no idea what the younger warlock was talking about. He would have to ask Gaius or Kilgharrah.

The servant led his charge into the castle courtyard. "Just act casual," he muttered under his breath. "Remember, you're a country boy in the city for the first time in his life. Mordred of Ealdor, son of Hunith, my brother. Okay?"

"Stay calm," Mordred murmured. "Act natural. Be brave. Don't let them suspect."

"Exactly."

A quartet of guards trotted into the square. Mordred stiffened.

"Keep going," Merlin whispered. He plastered a smile onto his face and gave the guards a wave. One of them, an older man, nodded his acknowledgement.

The warlocks entered the castle. "We're almost there," Merlin assured his charge. "Two minutes at the most."

Uther and Arthur Pendragon rounded the corner.

Oh, no.

This was, Merlin decided, probably the worst thing that could have happened to them. He glanced at Mordred, was surprised and confused at the boy's lack of reaction. Why would—oh, of course. He had never seen the king or prince before. He didn't know who these men were. They were obviously high-ranking, anyone could tell that by looking at their clothes, but Uther wasn't wearing his crown.

Merlin dipped his head into a short bow. He tugged at Mordred's sleeve until the boy did likewise. The Pendragons passed without saying a word.

"Who were they?" Mordred asked as the king and prince retreated.

Fortunately, Merlin was saved from answering by the fortuitous arrival of Guinevere. "Hello, Merlin," she said. "Who's your friend?"

"This is my brother Mordred."

Gwen frowned at him. "You don't have a brother."

Merlin forced himself to smile. "Where did you get that idea?"

"You told me so yourself."

"Well, that was a long time ago. Maybe your memory's gotten fuzzy."

Gwen was incredulous. "It was yesterday. I was telling you another story about Elyan and you said you wished you had siblings so you could tell stories of your own."

"Oh." He'd been hoping that she wouldn't remember that. "Right."

"So who is he?"

Merlin hesitated. His thoughts raced. Every instinct screamed at him to keep Mordred's secret, to keep the magic hidden, but…. This was Gwen. Gwen, who had helped save him from Nimueh's poison. Gwen, who loved picking flowers and leaving bouquets around the castle. Gwen, who helped Gaius with his healing whenever she had the time and had tended so many during the afanc plague.

Gwen, who was highly unlikely to fall for any more lies.

"Uther wants him dead," the warlock finally confessed. He kept his voice low, so soft that Gwen had to lean over to hear him. "He's just a little child, but there are guards chasing him and they'll kill him if they find him. Please, Gwen, play along."

The maid's brown eyes were very wide. So were Mordred's, though for a very different reason.

"Why?" Gwen finally asked. "Not 'why should I keep this secret,' of course, but why does Uther…."

That was a good question, actually. Merlin had been so busy saving Mordred that he hadn't asked for a backstory. He and Gwen looked expectantly at the youth.

"I'm a druid," Mordred whispered. "He wants me dead because I'm a druid." Tears glistened in his eyes. "We were just getting winter supplies. We weren't going to hurt anybody."

"We?" Gwen repeated.

Mordred blinked. Twin teardrops rolled down his face. "Cerdan. My foster father. He told me to hide in the crowd and get away while he distracted the bloodcloaks. But now I don't know what happened to him." The boy swallowed hard.

"Oh," whispered Gwen. "Oh, you poor thing. Of course I'll keep you safe." In a louder voice, she asked, "So, Mordred, when did you get to Camelot? I think I might have seen you last night."

Merlin beamed. "I think Gaius saw him here last night too."

"Yes," Mordred agreed, catching on immediately, "because I arrived here last night."

"It was pretty late," Merlin decided, "and once you got here, we spent a lot of time talking. I didn't mention you to Arthur because I was so tired from our conversation. And my insomnia. I have pretty bad insomnia, you know. But when it was time for me to get up, you were still sleeping. You tracked me down when I was getting ready to do laundry."

"Did any of the guards get a good look at your face?" Gwen asked, dropping her voice again.

"I don't think so," Mordred murmured. "It was mostly my cloak, I think."

"It's in here," Merlin explained, patting the laundry basket. "I have to hide it in my room before dropping the laundry off."

"No, Merlin, you forgot something in your room," Gwen corrected him. "That's why you have to go back."

"You're absolutely right. How silly of me to forget." He hefted the basket. "I think we have to get going now. That thing I forgot won't just magically appear."

Gwen and Mordred both winced at the mention of magic, but they recovered quickly. "Yes, that's probably a good idea," Gwen decided. "Let me know if you need any help."

Merlin smiled. Wonderful, wonderful Gwen. "I will. Thank you."

"Yes," Mordred said, his eyes still bright but no longer moist, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

Merlin led his new 'brother' into the physician's quarters. Gaius was mixing some horribly smelly concoction and looked rather relieved by the brief interruption. His relief was short-lived, however, for his eyebrow began its dreaded ascent as soon as he noticed Mordred. "What happened?"

His apprentice shut the door. He didn't want anyone to come in and overhear. "This is Mordred," he explained quietly. "Uther wants him dead because he's a druid, so I'm pretending he's my brother until I can get him out of Camelot. Can you pretend that he arrived here last night?"

Gaius sighed heavily. "Of course I will, Merlin. So why has your brother come to Camelot?"

"To bring him home," Mordred declared. "I missed my big brother, so I came all this way to bring him home."

Merlin had been about to say something about a fight with Hunith, but he liked this excuse better. "Yes, that's it. So we're agreed?"

"Did he arrive before or after dinner?" Gaius asked. "We supped with Lancelot, as you might recall."

"A bit before, I think," Merlin decided. They hadn't had any patients after their meal, so no one would be able to say otherwise. To Mordred, he explained, "Lancelot is my closest friend here in Camelot. He and Gaius are the only ones who know about my magic. Gwen doesn't know what I am, but she has a good heart. She's not going to betray us. Lancelot won't either. He'll help cover for us. Can you stay here with Gaius for a bit? Maybe cut herbs or something. I have to get the laundry out, and I'll look for information about Cerdan too, okay?" He tossed Gaius Mordred's teal cloak. "Can you hide this under my floorboard?"

"Will it fit?"

"It should. It hits my book and the Sidhe staff well enough."

"Take medicine with you," Mordred said suddenly. "Cerdan… Cerdan might be hurt." He shuddered. "I heard him scream."

"Cerdan?" Gaius asked softly.

"My foster father," Mordred whispered.

Merlin hid a painkiller in his neckerchief. "I'll find out what happened to him, Mordred. I promise."

The boy forced a weak smile. "Thank you."

Laundry basket in hand, Merlin strode through the halls. He meandered, taking his time, slowing down to eavesdrop on the conversations around him in the hopes that they would mention Cerdan. They didn't, so he resumed his previous pace and moved on.

Once he'd dropped the laundry off, he went to find Gwen. He didn't doubt that she, too, had been keeping an ear out for information on Mordred's foster father. He didn't succeed. On the plus side, though, he didn't run into Arthur, who would have undoubtedly given him a long list of menial tasks.

"Emrys!" Mordred's voice wailed in his head. The boy sounded close to tears.

"Yes?" Merlin sent back. He picked up his pace, making a beeline for the physician's quarters. Mordred didn't respond.

When Merlin arrived at Gaius's door, he learned why he hadn't found Gwen. She was already there, holding Mordred close as he sobbed into her shoulder. Gaius looked even more grave than normal.

"What happened?" Merlin asked softly, though he already knew the answer.

Gwen met his eyes. "Cerdan is dead."

Sorry, Mordred, but it had to happen.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Two Warlocks Walk Right Past the Magic-Hating King of Camelot, and He Doesn't Even Bat an Eye"

Next update: February 12. Arthur's opinion of what's happening.

-Antares