Author: Stakeaclaim
Title: The Knights Have a Thousand Eyes
Summary: Arthur is teaching some lessons and Merlin's not impressed at being used as his stick
Spoilers: Slight ones for The Dragon's Call, The Gates of Avalon and Lancelot
Pairing: A/M
Disclaimer: The OCs are mine but, sadly, nothing else belongs to me
The Knights Have a Thousand Eyes
Part 8
Kay freely admitted his limitations, and if he didn't there was normally somebody eager to point them out to him. Yes, he lacked the sheer brute strength of some of the older knights, but his boundless energy and stamina more than made up for it. As he loped along, he amused himself by imagining the sturdy Romford attempting to keep up this sort of pace. The other knights might mock his youth (their favoured target were the few hairs on his upper lip that he insisted on calling a moustache), but no one ridiculed the speed and endurance that youth brought.
He'd been following the remnants of the bandits for a while now, occasionally at a full out sprint but mostly this ambling jog that was a perfect pace for his long, coltish limbs. They were clearly in no hurry and made frequent stops. Even if Kay didn't know an enchanter was hidden in their midst, the group's obvious lack of concern at passing so close to Camelot, despite being known criminals, would have given him pause for thought. It occurred to him that the King's methodical execution of anyone with magical talents left the kingdom particularly vulnerable to that form of attack
The slow pace meant that the knights on their powerful steeds would cover the distance in no time. There should have been sign of them by now, glancing behind, he half expected to see Arthur charging towards him, but wasn't overly concerned at the absence. Even if they didn't turn up, he would simply follow until the bandits made camp and then return and let the Prince know. It would be Arthur's decision to pursue them, if he had a mind to. Personally, if it wasn't for the sorcerer, Kay would have been inclined to let them go about their business.
Using everything he'd been taught about tracking, he carefully laid pointers whenever there was any ambiguity about direction, whilst keeping close and observing the group. He was quite enjoying it, it felt almost like a game. Until, for a terrible moment he thought he'd given himself away. His heart almost beat out of his chest when one of their sorry nags actually heard him and pranced nervously. He could have sworn that its rider looked directly at him, but perhaps he had poor eyesight because no alarm was raised. Kay took a calming breath and stilled his shaky nerves. Never mind being caught by the bandits and the sorcerer. It was Arthur's disappointment if he was careless and failed to apply all his training to the field that had him in a cold sweat.
A small stream coiled towards the edge of the track, and, with a few words, everyone dismounted. Kay could tell by the stiff movements that some were still bearing injuries, which probably accounted for the slow pace and frequent pauses.
They were stretching out muscles, seeing to the calls of nature and allowing their mounts to drink. The youth was standing by himself as an older man approached and put a hand on his shoulder.
Kay eased nearer trying to eavesdrop on what was said.
'Okay?'
The boy shook his head.
'They're searching for us. Why can't they just leave us be?'
'It's a maze of tracks and trails around here. They won't find us.'
'They're combing the marshes. Someone must have seen us and reported back. I knew I felt something a few hours ago, and then they just disappeared, I couldn't sense them anymore. I'm sorry father; it's my fault for ignoring it. I thought I was mistaken.'
'How did they disappear from your Sight?'
'Magic,' the boy answered with a shrug.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the man.
'Another magic user? In Camelot? Everyone knows that no one dares use magic this close to the cursed kingdom.'
'I don't know what else it could be. Two of them were there, and then they weren't.'
Two of them? Did they mean him and Merlin, Kay wondered. They'd both felt the tingle of his search, and then it had disappeared. But they weren't magic users…. The boy must be mistaken.
'How many are looking for us?'
'Nine,' the boy said shortly.
'Knights?'
The boy nodded and shivered, saying, 'I can't handle that many.'
'It's okay. You won't need to face them as a group. We'll pick them off one by one. Come on.'
The two of them wandered off the path and picked their way through the dense undergrowth, beating a small track to where the ground cleared beneath encroaching trees. Stooping down, Kay followed them, and wondered if they were deliberately creating a trail for the curious to follow. Maybe they were going to leave some sort of trap.
'Here?' the boy asked.
'Good enough. What are you doing?'
'A taste of their own medicine. Why must we always be afraid? Let them face their fears for a change.'
To Kay's eyes it appeared that nothing happened, so he was caught by surprise when the two turned and made their way back. They were carefully keeping to the track they had made, and back towards where Kay was positioned.
It was too late. Despite his crouch, the undergrowth wasn't high enough to conceal him. They must surely have seen him. Kay kept low and moved fast, without even trying to be silent.
Why weren't there shouts and the general hullabaloo of a chase? A creeping vine stretched across the path snatched at his ankle and he fell flat on his face.
The man and boy were heading straight towards him. He rolled to one side and stared up at them with horrified eyes. He had no sword or weapon, a few non-lethal herbs tucked in his pouch weren't going to be much help. They were looking down right where he was laying.
And walked straight past him.
What the hell? One of them even trod on his hand!
He rolled back and watched them join the others. There was some brief discussion but no furtive glances in his direction. He got to his feet and was thoughtful as he brushed himself down.
Being missed the first time was lucky, but being overlooked again, by two people, was something else entirely.
The group that climbed back on to their horses was more alert and moving quicker than before. Presumably they had been updated with the news that the knights were searching for them.
There was one straggler.
Kay made up his mind. Taking all his courage in his hands, he emerged from where he was hiding and walked directly to the man.
'Hello?'
The horse gave a contemptuous snort. The man rode off without response.
They couldn't see him…. Why couldn't they see him? He thought about it as he kept pace with them, his mind running even faster than his legs.
He was fairly sure that he and Merlin had been discovered earlier. The boy's words confirmed it. Then apparently they had vanished from his vision.
This left three choices.
The boy had made a mistake. But he seemed so confident in his abilities that Kay quickly ruled it out.
Or some nearby, random magician had, for reasons unknown, decided to protect them. Unlikely. As the man had said, magic users knew better than to operate this close to Camelot, and none of them had any kindness for Camelot knights or noblemen.
Or thirdly, either he or Merlin was a sorcerer….
He stopped dead as little things fell into place. Merlin's 'luckiness'. How he was the only one unaffected by the song of the witch. The many occasions he managed to save Arthur in the nick of time.
Funny, open, kind Merlin was a sorcerer. In Camelot.
The only thing that surprised Kay was his lack of surprise. His opinion of Merlin didn't suddenly shift. All he felt was a rush of concern for a man he'd grown to like. Kay cursed silently. What was he even doing in a place as dangerous for him as Camelot?
As the last person disappeared around a bend in the path, Kay began moving again, head spinning with this new information. So Merlin was sorcerer, but why make him invisible? He must have realised that Kay would eventually notice and begin doing the maths. Then, considering how accident prone Merlin was in general, it dawned on Kay that perhaps it was a spell gone wrong. In retrospect, he considered himself fortunate that the attempt at concealment hadn't transformed him into a frog or something worse.
Another mindless hour of keeping pace, and the path opened up to reveal a lake in the distance. The group called a halt and were discussing something. Kay realised that he could wander right in the middle of them and never be seen. It took all his nerve to actually do it, and he refused to meet the suspicious eyes of the horses, but in the end he was standing amongst them, nervously waiting for someone to point at him and shout an alarm. It didn't happen.
'They have our trail and they're moving fast. Two have been dealt with,' the boy reported.
'Seven is still too many,' one man said.
'We need to split them up further,' the older man replied.
'If anyone lags behind, I'll deal with them, as well.' The boy reassured him.
'We need to make a stand, choose our ground and get ourselves organised before they catch up.'
'Up to the lake. They'll be hemmed in by the water on one side and there are trees on the other that will hide us, but still give a clear view of the path.'
Of course, they were bandits. They would know all about ambush tactics. Kay was panicking and hardly knew what to do first.
Right. Calm down. Prioritise. That's what Arthur always said. If there's more than one problem deal with the most urgent first. He knew their tactics – divide and conquer. He decided that the most critical thing was to find the two that had been 'dealt with'. Maybe they were still alive and just needed help.
Two of the men had dismounted for the discussion, their horses nibbling delicately at some verge-side greenery. Kay assessed which was the least disreputable horse and then, in front of everyone, he hauled himself into the saddle and clung on to the horse's mane so that the reins didn't dangle suspiciously in midair.
There were shouts and swearing as they shouted after the bolting horse. But Kay was away, riding back the way he had come, thundering through the open ground down to where the path narrowed and the forest crowded in.
Trying to pace the horse, he alternated between a gallop and a canter, and after what seemed to be an age, he eventually distinguished a distant flash of armour. Relief flooded through him as he spurred towards his comrades.
'Arthur!' he called.
And thankfully they were all pulling up.
'It's a trap, you're riding into a trap!' he told them.
'Forsooth, how dare such an ignoble steed obstruct our path?' Willard said.
'Ignoble?' Kay asked, taking umbrage on behalf of the horse. It might not be a glossy, spoilt charger, but it was good and willing. He gave its neck a reassuring pat.
'It's saddled. Could be they've made camp and it got loose.'
They couldn't see him. Kay's heart sank.
If he'd ever thought about it, then being invisible would have seemed pretty interesting. But now, as he shouted at them in frustration, it was nothing more than the most terrible curse.
'Caradoc hasn't caught up with us yet. Should I go back?' Bedevere asked.
'And where's Romford?' Hector suddenly queried.
They all looked around.
'Damnation!' Arthur could ill-afford to lose anyone else but he refused to leave two of his knights behind.
'I wish Merlin could have told us how many we would be dealing with,' Percival said.
'We're lucky that Merlin managed to tell us this much,' Arthur quickly defended him.
'I didn't mean it was his fault.'
'There can't be more than half a dozen bandits without injuries. Send two men to look for Caradoc and Romford and we'll still have enough knights to overwhelm the rest of them.' Hector advised quietly.
Arthur nodded.
'What about the enchanter? Merlin told you about him, right?' Kay protested. To no one but himself.
In the discussion that followed no one mentioned magic at all. It was becoming clear that something had happened to prevent Merlin passing on the full message, and with that in mind, parts of this puzzle began to fall into place. They knew about the bandits but not the magic.
'Bedevere and Willard, go check on them. If they're okay then meet back up with us. If they're injured then stay and deal with the situation as you see fit,' Arthur commanded.
The two wheeled off without a word.
'What shall we do with the horse?' Gawain asked with a nod towards where Kay was seated.
'Let it go. If it's still here, we'll see to it when we come back.'
The main group also moved off, and again, Kay was in a quandary, uncertain who to follow. He finally plumped for Bedevere and Willard. The two missing knights were already in trouble and needed help now. He made haste, continuing back down the path.
Ten minutes later, the three of them were listening to faint cries for help.
'Well, it could be Romford,' Bedevere said doubtfully, 'if his voice were usually an octave higher.'
'Forsooth, I swear it is he,' Willard insisted, 'but where does he hide?'
'He must have wandered from the path. Why would he do that?'
'Romford? Where are you?' Willard called.
They looked for some hint of a horse or man passing that way but the path here was clay-hardened and any signs of passage remained unrecorded by the impassive earth.
'Romford!' Willard called again, and was gratified to receive an answering shout.
'Willard!'
With cocked ears, and some discussion as to direction, they made progress towards his voice.
Kay followed, but the horse he was riding was nervous and looking as if she was about to bolt. Not feeling particularly secure on this unfamiliar mount, Kay finally gave in. Hiding her out of sight, so that the other two didn't try to take her, he flipped the reins over a branch and continued forward on foot.
'Good grief! Romford, are you alright?' Bedevere called.
'No, I'm not.'
'How did you get up there?'
'I climbed.'
'Well climb down!' demanded Willard.
'Can't. Stuck.'
'You can't stay up there,' Bedevere reasoned.
Kay came forward to see what was going on. He spotted Romford's stallion but still couldn't see Romford. Until he followed Bedevere's eye line up. And up.
'Can't move,' Romford informed them in a tight voice.
'Why canst he move?' Willard asked with a frown. 'Has some paralysis seized his limb?'
'Sort of. He has a terror of heights. He freezes,' Bedevere said, reluctantly revealing Romford's embarrassing secret.
'Well I do not find heights fearsome. I will climb this hoary crag and guide him back to safety. If you, brave Sir Bedevere, would watch over us and with thine sharp eyes, steer us down this perilous descent.'
Bedevere agreed to the plan and took the reins of Willard's mount.
He began talking soothingly to Romford, distracting him by asking what on earth possessed him to climb up there in the first place. And Romford haltingly explained how he thought he saw something and chased it this far.
Meanwhile, Willard began to climb.
It started off not too bad, merely a steep scramble, but it then began to rise vertically and what looked like a path zigzagging up the side was clearly some kind of optical illusion. Not even mountain goats would have labelled it a path.
He brushed a bramble from his face, but after he'd bobbed under it, the thing sprang back and hit the back of his head. He ducked to the right and encountered gorse that spiked at his cheek. Then tried to move onward and let out a small yelp.
'Bedevere?' Willard finally called out.
'Yes?'
'I fear I am stuck.'
Willard was so far beyond panic it was as if he'd passed through it and come out the other side to a sea of infinite calmness.
'What do you mean, stuck?'
'I ducked through some brambles and gorse and they caught at my hair,' he explained.
'Your hair…. Well tug it free,' Bedevere said, trying to keep the impatience from his voice. Whenever Willard descended into plain speaking prose, he knew the situation was bad.
'I can't. I tried to go back and it became more snarled. I can't let go of my handholds to untangle it. And I don't think its going to untangle anyway. It's knotted.'
Kay was already beginning the climb, and yes, it was deceptive. He was clutching precariously at tussocks of grass to stop himself from falling.
'What's happening?' Romford called, unable to bring himself to look down to see for himself.
'Willard has a problem,' Bedevere shouted back.
One of his young apprentices in trouble? That was the spur that Romford needed.
He might not be able to move for his own sake, but for one of his own people he was going to get down or die trying. He took a trembling breath and willed his knees to stop shaking.
'Okay, I'm going to move…. Now…. Any minute now….'
He eyed the section of cliff he was hugging. Made his fingers uncurl from a half buried rock he was clinging to and grabbed manically for a root further down. It was painful and slow, but Bedevere shouted advice on where to place hands and feet, and Kay played his part, tracking him every step of the way, even putting his shoulder beneath one of Romford's feet when it was clear that he was going to slip because the toehold wasn't large enough. He didn't dare do more for fear of startling Romford. And startling Romford half way up a cliff wasn't something he wanted to be responsible for.
They were finally level with Willard, and thankfully, with all his concentration on the tangle of thorn, branch and hair, Romford had no room left for his own fears.
'You're doing fine,' he said encouragingly. 'Hold tight.'
That's one thing Willard didn't need to be told.
'I'm sorry, I don't know how you managed it but you're snarled on three different bushes. I don't think I have the balance to cut through all of those,' he let loose a hiss of pain, 'and it's kind of thorny,' he added.
'You're going to hack off my hair, aren't you?' Willard asked, his voice shaking and sounding close to tears.
'Either that or you stay here forever.'
Willard nodded and gulped.
'Do it,' he said bravely.
With well secured hand and toeholds, Kay stood an invisible support behind Romford, in case he was needed. Romford shuffled his feet to make sure they stayed firmly planted and moved a hand to the dagger at his belt. It was the work of minutes to butcher Willard's beautiful hair. When it was over, their mood was quiet and sombre as they climbed the rest of the way down; glinting strands of gold drifting pass their faces.
It was typical that, just as Kay assumed they were safe, Romford tumbled on loose stones and slid the rest of the way down, taking Willard with him. They lay panting and tangled at the bottom of the slope.
'Are you hurt?' Romford asked as he mentally checked himself over and decided that there was no permanent damage.
Willard didn't answer.
'Hey?'
A trembling voice said, 'Romford? I think I've gone blind. Everything is dark.'
Romford pulled back his cloak from where it had settled over Willard's face.
'Better?' he asked.
'Oh.' Willard blinked sheepishly.
Romford couldn't bring himself to mock. The way their luck was running it was natural to assume the worst. He looked at the other man with a tangle of twigs and leaves in his chopped and mangled hair, and reached out to try to pull the worst of it free.
'What are you doing?'
'Deforestation,' Romford explained, holding up what looked to be an oak leaf, which was a bit of mystery as there weren't any oak trees on the that crag. There again Romford had never been much of a naturalist.
'I must be a botanist's dream,' Willard said ruefully, as more of nature's bounty was pulled from his hair.
'Kay would have a field day,' Romford agreed.
Willard was silent, as Romford continued his ministrations.
'Sorry,' Romford said, assuming Willard was brooding about his hair. 'I feel like a fool. If I hadn't been such a damned coward, you wouldn't have had to come up for me.'
'You're not a coward. You overcame your fear when I was in trouble. And we're both safe, so what does this…' he tugged at a tuft of hair, 'matter?'
Romford looked at him critically.
'You know what. It suits you. You look good.'
Willard ran a hand through what was left of his mane, some bits were long, some cropped close, and despite Romford's attempt at forest clearance, he still had thorns, bits of gorse and small hawthorn leaves decorating the mop, and for some reason he found it funny as hell.
Romford stared at him in concern as he laughed.
'Will? Are you happy or are you hysterical? Because if it's hysteria, I will have to hit you,' Romford warned. 'As your friend,' he added. In case Willard thought it was malevolence.
'I'm alright. I promise.' Willard said wiping away the tears. 'It's the strangest thing. I look a mess. Mother will be devastated. And yet I feel like you've cut me free. Metaphorically, as well as literally. Who am I when I don't have pretty blonde locks curling around my face?'
'Anyone you want to be,' Romford told him.
'Exactly!' he said, and actually looked happy.
Romford shook his head at the madness.
'I wouldn't worry about your mother. I've never heard of a mother's love being conditional on hairstyle. Uh, here let me get that….' He eased a particularly thorny stem free. 'This is like grooming my hound. She returns from a hunt with half the countryside attached to her ears.'
'Are you comparing me to your dog?' Willard huffed indignantly.
'It's a compliment. I love that dog….'
Romford seemed to realise what he'd said and his hands stilled. Willard gave a cough which really did little to hide his amusement.
'And you're nothing like my dog. Not half so well-trained.' Romford said, covering quickly. But his fingers continued to comb Willard's hair.
The main thing with being invisible, Kay decided, was being forced to think for himself. So used to having older and wiser heads around, he'd become accustomed to simply agreeing to whatever was planned. With no one able to see him, there was also no one to answer to and no one to judge. He found himself in the position of being the only one with all the necessary intelligence needed to properly assess the situation. As a result, he had no choice but to trust his own abilities and decisions.
It was liberating. For the first time since becoming a knight, Kay was acting with complete autonomy. The others were limited because they didn't have all the facts. It was up to Kay to use his superior knowledge to try plugging the gaps in their plans.
So he was only half listening to the conversation between Romford and Willard. His concern was for Bedevere, who was nowhere in sight. And the other two were so busy with their tentative attempts at flirting that they hadn't even noticed. He gave a tut of disapproval, safe in the knowledge that they couldn't actually hear him.
Making his way back towards the familiar track, Kay pricked up his ears when he heard horses' hooves. He raced forward, thinking it was perhaps Bedevere, and instead was in time to see three people riding by and sweeping off into the distance. The third person he wasn't sure about, but the other two were definitely Merlin and Caradoc. And Merlin had his head bandaged, which perhaps explained why the knights had only got half the story from him.
He shouted out for Merlin, longing for him to hear and reverse whatever spell he'd cast that caused him to become visibly challenged. But his voice got lost in the thunder of hooves and the rush of wind in their ears.
He sighed. At least Caradoc was rescued from whatever fate had threatened him, and Merlin knew about the sorcerer. If they made good speed, the three of them might be in time to provide reinforcements for Arthur's dwindling contingent.
Resigned to being invisible a while longer, he continued his search for Bedevere. The other two must had finally noticed the knight's disappearance, he could hear them calling out frantically. There was a stab of something that felt suspiciously like jealously. Who would shout for him if he encountered trouble? Despite having comrades all around, he'd never felt so lonely and isolated.
As the two followed in his footsteps, also checking whether Bedevere had returned to the track, Kay thought about it carefully. The boy-sorcerer had said they would have to face their fear. It seemed that Romford's was heights. Willard had a weird love-hate relationship with his previously long, pretty hair. What about Bedevere? What was his weakness?
Kay was chagrined to realise that he didn't know much about him. Although Bedevere was young compared to some of the other knights, he seemed rather austere and serious, and Kay had never got to know him particularly well. He listed the things he did know- he enjoyed his food a little too much, had recently got over his contempt of peasants and had just as recently befriended Merlin. That was the poor extent of Kay's knowledge and he could think of very little else that distinguished Bedevere. Except, he was absolutely devoted to Arthur. And all of this helped not one iota, thought Kay with a huge sigh.
If Bedevere hadn't returned to the path, nor climbed the crag then he must have risked the penetrating darkness of the forest. Although, not the type to be easily spooked, Kay really didn't want to venture deeper, and couldn't imagine anyone in their right minds willingly entering this part of the forest. But nevertheless, he was certain that must be the direction that Bedevere had gone and the odd freshly snapped twig and recently damaged plants quickly confirmed it.
Still with a bad feeling about this, he laid more pointers, but this time to ensure that he could find his way back out again.
The thickly wooded forest had a way of deadening sound, but even so he could hear someone calling, a hint of desperation in the voice. He began running towards it. Of course, it was Bedevere.
The loyal knight was calling out to Arthur, reassuring him that he was on his way and to hold on. He was talking as though there was another side to the conversation. Yet Arthur was miles away, and at this exact moment probably riding into an ambush.
It seemed that Bedevere was roaming deeper and deeper into the forest... the type of forest that covered half the country, where, if people strayed into the gloomy interior, they never came out. And here was Bedevere following some will o' the wisp that only he could see and hear, right into the thick of it.
It was so dense that Bedevere's horse was nervous and slow in picking its way, and Kay actually managed faster on foot. When he finally caught up, Bedevere had tears streaking his cheeks and was still begging Arthur to hold on.
Kay grabbed the horse's halter and guided it back around. Bedevere was too distressed to notice as they were led back from the forest depths.
It was with enormous relief he saw Romford and Willard ahead. The two knights came crowding forward, grabbing the reins from Bedevere's loose hands, and trying to convince him that it was nothing but a hallucination, Arthur wasn't here, he wasn't trapped or dying. As they cleared the forest, so Bedevere's head began to clear.
'But I heard him,' he said, his voice still rough and choked. 'He was calling for me.'
'And I saw someone running up that crag, but I swear it's all illusions and fakery. No one could have bounded up the path like that. And Arthur isn't here. You know he's still following the bandits.'
'I know, but it seemed so real.'
Whilst the three knights reassured each other, Kay went ahead and picked up his borrowed horse. He supposed that now that the three were together they were as safe as they were going to be until the sorcerer was dealt with. He may as well put this invisibility to good use and try to help Arthur and the others. So once again he was on the path that was becoming so familiar he was beginning to think he could find his way along it blindfolded.
It seemed that Arthur's mission was going to hell because coming towards him was yet another knight that the Prince could ill-afford to lose. This hidden track was turning into a positive highway, buzzing with activity.
Kay slowed down as the knight approached. It was Gawain, and both he and his horse were matted with mud and slime, and exhibiting a drooping tiredness they would have been too proud to show if they were in company. It made Kay squirm to be viewing a vulnerability that Gawain would never admit to if he was given the choice.
He remembered once asking his father what happened to all the old gods that people used to believe in, and had been told that when people stopped believing in them they faded away. Kay sympathised. This lack of acknowledgement made him feel as if he was fading away to non existence. He moved aside and allowed Gawain and his horse space to pass by.
But too young and exuberant for maudlin self pity to hold him for long, Kay cheerfully reasoned he was a man not a god, and perfectly capable of believing in himself. Instead of brooding, he turned his mind to practicalities. And a quick calculation told him that, with the loss of Romford, Caradoc, Willard, Bedevere and Gawain, Arthur would only have three of the original company left, and they were heading straight for a trap.
He suddenly felt the responsibility of lives hanging on his actions. His new found sense of liberation had a flip side. Along with the freedom to make his own decisions came the freedom to make his own mistakes. Youth and inexperience would be no excuse for failure, so what could he do but shoulder the burden and spur forward again.
He comforted himself that at least Merlin should be there by now. Between Arthur and Merlin they would make everything right.
…
When they reached the lake, Arthur slowed and relaxed the reins, giving his steed the freedom to drop his head and drink. It was only then, as Arthur surveyed his knights, that he discovered Gawain was missing. This whole expedition was ill-fated.
They trotted back to the tree-lined path, trying to decide what to do next
'Is it really worth continuing this for a few bandits we've already defeated once?' Hector asked.
'Maybe not. Except, Kay is still missing,' Arthur replied. 'Supposing he's been captured?'
They were startled from their debate when Percival let out a scream and waved his arms wildly.
Arthur hurtled towards the man. And immediately saw the problem. He drew his sword.
'Stay still! Stop flapping your arms.' Arthur ordered.
With enough sense left for the command to pierce his panic, Percival held statue-still, whilst a huge snake slithered around his shoulders. Arthur presumed it had dropped from an overhead branch. There was no other way it could have suddenly appeared there.
Suspecting that the snake was too large to be flicked off by a single lever, he motioned Hector to join him, and they both drew their swords.
'We need to lift and make sure it can't coil further around Percival. Once we have a small clearance we throw it. I'll take the head, you take the tail.'
'Which direction?'
'Behind, so we don't spook the horse.'
Percival tried to control his shaking as two swords slid between him and the slithering reptile that was beginning to twine around him. They held their weapons steady and carefully lifted. A forked tongue hissed out a warning, and Percival could feel his stomach turning to water.
'Now!' Arthur shouted.
And with a brisk movement the snake was launched away from the terrified man. It landed and reared up angrily. Arthur was immediately upon it, and with a vicious swipe of his sword, the head parted company with its body.
They all stared at it as it twitched and finally died. Percival was grey with shock and Montague was looking around warily.
'Where did that come from?' he asked.
'Must have been in the trees,' Arthur said, espousing the only theory that made any sort of sense.
'Not that I'm disagreeing, but snakes don't generally fall out of trees,' Hector said.
'There's something not right about all of this,' Arthur agreed.
'I think we're being watched,' Montague hissed, eyes slanting back and forth along the tree line.
Percival was still frozen, staring at the dead snake, but the others turned to observe the trees. Arthur made his way forward with Hector and Montague to the rear. There was a thump and a groan from behind them that made them spin back around.
'I think you might be right. You are being watched,' a voice said. 'Throw down your weapons.'
He had Percival on his knees and a knife hovering threateningly.
'Well? What's it to be?' The man asked.
And emerging from the trees were another half a dozen men. Clearly the snake had been some trick to force them to stop at this place and allow the jaws of the trap to snap shut.
A flash of impotent rage blazed through Arthur at the sight of this scum of the earth robber threatening one of his men. For now he had no choice, but this wasn't over.
'Drop your swords.' Arthur ordered with a sharp glance, and then turned towards the spokesman.
'What do you want?' he asked coldly.
'To be allowed to go on our way. That is all. We're entitled to live in peace and that's all we want.'
'Allow you the freedom to rob and attack more innocent people?' Arthur sneered. 'What about their entitlement to live in peace?'
'Me and my son are no robbers, but there was no place left for us!' he replied furiously. 'People we'd known all our lives chased us from the village, so tell me, where are these innocent people you speak of? Do you mean the ones who would burn my son for what he is? Pah!' He spat his contempt.
Arthur stilled.
'For what he is? And what exactly is your son?' Hector asked.
'A good lad who protects his friends and family,' the man replied.
With those words, a boy emerged and stood close to the knife wielding man, who was obviously his father.
Montague was sneaking a hand to a hidden knife but the movement caught the eye of the boy. The hilt turned molten in his hand and he dropped it with gasp.
'Sorcery!' Montague cried, holding up his hand to show the reddened weald of the burn.
'You only just worked that out? Not very quick on the uptake, is he?' one man sneered.
'Eh well, what more can you expect? It's obvious they're training to be knights, not scholars.'
Derisive laughter followed, along with comments about blockheaded knights.
Arthur's lips were turning white with fury, and the boy eyed him curiously. He walked forward without fear.
'So, you're the great Prince Arthur who kills my kind? I wonder what you fear?' he asked with a cocked head, as if he was listening to something. Then the boy looked at him inquisitively as though Arthur had replied.
'Really? That's it? How strange. I would never have guessed. So why do you hunt me?' he asked.
And Arthur knew that somehow he had given himself away.
'It hardly matters, does it?' His father replied. 'The point is he does hunt you.'
The boy nodded and raised his hand. A universal gesture that preceded a demonstration of power.
Into this scene crashed Caradoc, Geraint and Merlin. And a strange threesome they made. Merlin with his bloody bandage, Caradoc who was covered in something grey that gave him an almost dusty look, and Geraint who appeared hardly old enough to be riding out with men.
Merlin quickly assessed the situation, the knights without their swords, the knife that pricked at Percival, and Arthur, who was about to be obliterated by the sorcerer. Okay. Not good.
For all that the boy was a sorcerer, the appearance of three more men was a complete surprise. He squinted at them in concentration and then smiled. It wasn't exactly a pleasant smile.
'Of course,' he said to Arthur, 'this is the one. I think it's time to face your fear, my Prince.'
And Arthur knew with a certainty what was about to occur. He'd seen it enough times in his nightmares.
The boy would attack him with sorcery, and Merlin would protect him without thinking of consequences. He would use his magic, here in front of all these witnesses.
Arthur saw it all unfolding with prescient certainty. The magic. The accusations. The fear. The anger. The stand up, knock down fight with Uther. King and Prince divided. Knights forced into hard choices. A people forced to choose sides. Bloodshed.
Unless he could stop it.
He shouted, 'No!'
And Merlin noted curiously that it wasn't aimed at the boy magician, the agonised pleading was bellowed at him. But he didn't know what to make of the fear in Arthur's eyes.
Hector knew exactly what it meant but, terrified for Arthur's life, he looked towards Merlin and hissed, 'Yes, do it!'
And not knowing what either was referring to, he did what he had to.
Merlin raised his own hand, his eyes turned gold and a wind whipped up around him. There wasn't time to be subtle.
The boy aimed some bolt of power at Arthur and, fizzing with magic, Merlin both pushed Arthur to one side and reflected the bolt back towards the boy, with something of his own added to the rebounding flash of power.
The man, who had been holding a knife to Percival, screamed out and rushed to the boy, as he collapsed under the recoiling magic.
The unexpected push had knocked Arthur flat and the attackers had a last trick up their sleeves. One of them had a knee to Arthur's chest and a knife tickling at his throat.
'If you attack me how certain are you that your prince will survive?' The knife had ceased its tickling and instead pierced the skin, so that the tip was resting on Arthur's windpipe
'I can feel his breath under the blade, a hair's breadth more and he dies. Are you going to risk that? Let them go, or your prince dies. And don't try magic, I'll see the power gathering in your eyes and if that happens, I'll kill him. You hear me, sorcerer? Let us go!'
Merlin knew he was right. The signs of impending magic would be right there in his eyes. Just as he was feeling helpless, an astonishing thing happened. Beneath the noses of everyone, Kay walked forward towards the man with the knife.
'What…?' he began.
'Hush,' Kay replied. 'I don't know what you did but they can't see or hear me.'
Merlin looked around and realised that Kay was right. He nodded. To all intents and purposes, the young knight was invisible.
The man who was threatening Arthur obviously thought Merlin was nodding agreement to his terms and relaxed his grip a little as the threat receded. Kay knelt next to him.
'Stay still, Arthur,' Merlin warned. Arthur blinked his understanding that something was about to happen.
Kay crouched down and clasped his hand around the blade of the knife as gently as possible, intent on not alerting the attacker. And when he felt confident, he grasped it tight and pushed it up and away from Arthur's neck, using his other hand to punch the man away from the prince.
With that, Merlin was free to act, his fury whipping at their attackers and knocking them to the ground. The knights finally seemed to recover and were collecting their own swords and disarming the bandits.
Removing his neckerchief, Merlin rushed across to Arthur, and pressed it to the wound on his throat.
Kay grabbed his shoulder.
'Please, Merlin. Let them see me again,' Kay begged.
'Of course. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I was just trying to hide you from the sorcerer, not from everyone. I didn't do it on purpose.'
Arthur was listening to every word Merlin said, and decided he wasn't even going to ask. It's not like the situation could get any worse.
'I know,' replied Kay. 'I guessed it was an accident. But this is awful. Just undo it. Please.'
There was a whisper of power, a golden glow deep in Merlin's eyes and suddenly everyone was staring at Kay.
Arthur groaned and cursed himself. Of course, he should have known there was a way for the situation to get worse!
He could have made up some explanation to the knights as to why he'd nosedived to the ground. And the sorcerer's recoiling power could be passed off as one of the dangers of using magic. But he could think of no conceivable natural explanation for Kay appearing from thin air.
'Where the hell did you come from?' Caradoc asked.
Kay got up from where he knelt and threw himself at Caradoc.
'You can see me!'
'Well, yes….' Caradoc stoically endured the hug for a while, before being obliged to point out, 'Uh. I have a girlfriend now.'
Kay grinned happily. 'Marvellous,' he said.
No one else was looking as if anything was marvellous.
It was the older man who broke the silence.
'What have you done to my boy?' he roared.
Merlin looked up at him.
'I've burnt his magic out of him.' He turned towards Arthur, not quite meeting his eye. 'You won't have to bring him back for trial. He's not magical any more.'
His words lit up the obvious like a beacon. The boy might not be magical anymore, but Merlin was.
Arthur finally stood up.
'What did he do to my other three men?' he demanded. His voice was cut up and raspy, and sounded all the more threatening for that.
'Bedevere, Romford and Willard were all alive and well when I left them,' Kay hastily reassured him.
Arthur looked at Merlin, but Merlin was looking at the ground.
'I'm sick of the sight of you all. I don't ever want to see any of you here again. Do you understand?' he ground out. 'And if I find you've been attacking or robbing people, I'll hunt every single last one of you without mercy.'
Merlin was looking at Kay.
'Your hand….' He reached out towards the bloodied hand.
There was the hiss of a sword being drawn.
'Move away from him, Sorcerer.'
Everyone stilled as Geraint held a sword to Merlin's chest.
'He's a physician, I need his help. Merlin…,' Kay said plaintively.
The hand that had grasped the blade was dripping blood and proving his point.
'Let him help.' Arthur commanded.
'But highness, he is a traitor,' Geraint protested, all youthful eagerness and wanting to please.
'Let. Him. Help.' Arthur said with barely restrained fury. There was no brooking that tone.
Geraint lowered his sword.
'Go help him, traitor.'
'I'd keep a civil tongue in my head if I was you. He could take you out with less than a blow,' Arthur informed him coolly.
But even those familiar words wouldn't make Merlin raise his eyes.
'Merlin? I have the woundwort that we gathered in my pouch,' Kay said gently.
The dark head nodded, and he moved tentatively towards Kay, reaching for the pouch and separating the woundwort from the marsh mallow. He applied it to the cuts to help prevent infection, but with his own neckerchief given to Arthur he had nothing left to bind the wounds.
Montague realised his problem and removed his own neck scarf.
'Here, use this,' he said softly.
'Thank you.' Merlin shot him a quick, grateful look.
With his hand tightly bound, Kay touched his arm.
'Arthur is bleeding, too.'
Merlin finally raised his eyes, risking a glance at Arthur. But the Arthur he knew was hidden away somewhere, this one was just staring at him with a carefully blank expression.
Merlin's eyes trailed to his neck. Kay was right. Blood was staining his blue neckerchief brown.
Then Arthur pulled the fabric from his neck. A silent invitation for Merlin to tend his wound.
Like a skittish colt, Merlin edged closer.
'I just need to….' He indicated his handful of woundwort.
Arthur tilted his head and stretched his neck for Merlin's inspection. It felt like a declaration of trust. So Merlin finally reached out and touched him.
He broke the leaves and applied them where the knife had pierced.
'Sorry, this would normally be a poultice.'
Arthur gave a small grunt, afraid that any noise would have Merlin scuttling away. The neckerchief was eased from his hands and Merlin tied it around his neck.
'To keep the woundwort in place,' he explained.
Arthur nodded.
'Not too tight, it would just be like you to try to strangle me,' he said, aiming for the familiar banter that he hoped Merlin would find soothing.
Instead Merlin was blinking back his distress.
'I would never…!'
And Arthur was kicking himself for being the biggest prat alive.
'I know.'
'But you know what I am,' Merlin said flatly.
'Yes. You're an idiot,' Arthur replied. 'But there again, I've always known that.'
'What do you want me to do?' Merlin whispered.
He looked so grey and tired but his eyes were huge and trusting. The knights were carefully keeping out of earshot. Arthur looked towards them and assessed their reactions. Kay would be on Merlin's side and Montague too, probably Caradoc…. Hector already knew the situation. Percival he wasn't sure about. He was in a state of shock, first from the snake and then from being held at knifepoint. Finally there was Geraint….
Arthur turned back to Merlin, who was swaying where he stood.
'How are you feeling?'
'Not brilliant.'
'Head?'
Merlin nodded.
'You should never have come after me. It's a head injury, Merlin. You can't take chances.'
But Merlin's eyes were beginning to glaze over and he probably didn't even hear the reprimand.
Arthur was trapped. He couldn't even let Merlin accidentally escape. How far would he get, the state he was in? There were also his newly released attackers to consider, who no doubt would delight in capturing the sorcerer who defeated them.
But most importantly he needed a physician. He needed Gaius.
'What shall we do with him?' Montague asked.
The last thing Merlin heard was Arthur, his tone flat and devoid of emotion, saying, 'Take him back to Camelot.'
He felt Geraint's sword at his back.
Arthur was taking him back for trial, Merlin thought dully. Not that he blamed Arthur. What was he supposed to do? Turn against his father? Betray the King, for a servant? Arthur had too much honour for that.
Merlin switched off to everything around him as someone helped him on to a horse and they began the ride back to Camelot.