I'm growing ever sceptical of this story, mates. I am afraid that maybe I've drawn the characters a bit off, such as making Merlin more of a fighter. Do you think that I've gone too far? Any tips/suggestions/criticisms?
~6~ Fatal Favours
Merlin remained in the dream glade longer this time, trying to figure out with all his might where it was and what it meant. For strange reasons that not even he could fathom, he gave it a name – the Wild. Perhaps it was because he felt so alive there, so invigorated.
But then the primal instincts, so new and unfamiliar, reared up and retook control, sending him fleeing from the area like a startled hare.
And then he saw the peculiar woman again. The one he'd never seen before, yet she knew his name. She had called him Emrys, but only the Druids ever called him that; they were the only ones who knew his vërum nσmί, his true name. And she still wanted to speak to him. He had been unable, in the dream, to tell her that he didn't know who she was and where this 'Mistwood' was located.
When Merlin woke up, his troubled, confused dream melted away into his lumpy pillow, and he soon forgot it.
As he swung his legs off the bed, he realized that his mouth was sticky, and he reached for the glass of water he always left by his bedside for just such occasions. He found it empty and remembered that he had never filled it the night before.
Regretfully placing it back on the table, the warlock stood, and then fell back down as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Blinking, the feeling gradually faded, but this time he straightened slowly. There were tingles in his feet and fingertips, and his face throbbed from where Arthur had punched him the day before, but otherwise he felt fine. In fact, as he stretched out the stiffness in his back, he started to feel fuzzily, inexplicably great!
Pulling on his tawny jacket, Merlin opened his room door and hopped lightly down the steps into the main quarters, spotting the breakfast Gaius must have left and a note on the dining table.
Taking an apple from the plate, Merlin picked up the note while biting into the sweet fruit, only to grimace. The apple tasted as they always do, but for some reason, the texture and flavour no longer appealed to him. In fact, it disgusted him.
Putting it back down, he instead wolfed down the bread and cheese and read the message.
Merlin
I will be away for a few hours. I need you to deliver the supplies I have stored in my satchel to an old friend of mine who lives two houses down from the tavern called the Giggling Goose in the Southern District. Don't worry about his majesty the king; I have found a servant to care for him this morning with a message saying that you'll be delayed. I'm sure he'll understand.
-Gaius
Merlin frowned as he read the note, then reread it and checked the back. Nowhere did it say what Gaius was doing. Then he shrugged. If it was important, the physician would have said so.
Though he also found it peculiar that Gaius had said, 'his majesty the king' as if he hadn't known Arthur his whole life, he let it pass as well.
Licking the last crumbs from his fingers, Merlin found the satchel with the supplies inside and then exited the quarters, locking the door behind him. When he turned around, he nearly crashed into someone head on.
"Whoa, excuse me," he said, but before he could leave, he recognized the man. "Hey, you're that kitchen novice who threw the salad bowl!" The one with the funny accent, he added mentally.
The straw-haired youth seemed to quail in the warlock's presence, much to his astonishment. Why is he so wary of me?
"What's your name, friend?"
The novice merely squeaked and hastened off, vanishing around the corner before Merlin drew his next breath. Hoping that he didn't need anything from Gaius and only left because he was terrified of the servant, Merlin shook his head and went the other way.
He had a curious spring in his step as he forgot about the kitchen novice and left the citadel. He entered the Upper Quarters, keeping his left shoulder to the sun as he weaved in and out of the morning doers to the Southern District. An open portcullis welcomed him to the region and he asked for directions to the Giggling Goose, trying to keep a straight face as he mentioned the name. Once with instructions, he continued on, pausing near a butcher shop. Usually, he winced and quickly passed such places, for the smell of so much raw meat and blood in one place churned his stomach – but this time, something made him hesitate before the small store. He then realized that it was his stomach growling at the metallic scent of a fresh kill.
Slightly nauseated of himself, he hastened on, pointedly ignoring the estranged looks he got from those he brushed stiffly past.
He found the Goose on a corner, and then approached the appropriate house. On the door another note was pinned. Frowning, Merlin read the spidery, graceful writing.
My dear friend Gaius,
I regret to inform you that our meeting cannot take place now, for I am working on a project in Gregory's Grove, north of the city. If you wish, you may join me there with those supplies I asked – I put directions on the back if you need them.
Cheers,
Samuel.
Merlin blew air over his pouting lip. What's with this? How difficult was it to do a simple favour?
He could just leave the supplies at the house, but that, 'If you wish' sounded more like a polite, 'Please bring them.' He knew Gregory's Grove, and remembered that it was three miles away from Camelot. He hesitated. He would much rather return to speak to Arthur, but then he owed Gaius a lot, and if his guardian was friends with this Samuel, then Merlin would consider him a friend as well.
Since he knew the way, he left the note on the door and briskly returned to the citadel to collect his horse, en route recalling the events of the previous day. Suddenly, he had the urge to abandon the delivery and speak to the king, and the need made him pause before entering the stables. What had happened that day on the training field? Merlin should have been chopped to bits, and have woken up that morning feeling like a dragon had kneaded his bones. But he'd woken feeling fantastic – disregarding the bout of dizziness – and barely even stiff from the exercise.
Frowning, he finally entered the stables, only for shrill squeals of the horses inside to startle him from his reverie. Staggering back a pace, he watched as the beasts bashed into the sides of their stalls while they tried to turn, their eyes wild, nostrils flared. The stable hands rushed to calm them, expressions of bewilderment dominating their features.
One hand, called George, saw Merlin and approached. The warlock hailed him, casting wary looks at the beasts. "What's their problem?"
"Must be that storm coming in," George explained, pointing to the roiling thunderheads in the north. "You know horses – hate loud noises and flashing lights and all that. What can I help you with?"
"I need my horse. I'm making a delivery for Gaius."
"Right. This way." George led Merlin deeper into the stables, where the neighing and the stamping of restless hooves became almost unbearable. The servant's brown gelding was raging in terror just like every other horse. George frowned. "Strange. Ranger usually is fine with storms."
It took three men to convince, or rather, pull, the gelding from his stable, but he still reared and cringed away, refusing the saddle and the bit. The stable hands were getting extremely frustrated by the time Merlin stopped them.
"I'll just walk!" he yelled over the din, and the others were, if not confused, then relieved.
He didn't walk, however, but ran.
He should have been utterly bewildered by his sudden fitness, but after the day before in the training field, nothing surprised him now.
The air was cool and fresh, a gentle lull just before that storm simmering over the northern horizon. Merlin's breath came in easy gusts as he crested the last knoll, not even winded. Normally, after three miles, he was gasping and holding his sides for cramps, but now, as baffling as it was, he felt like he could go another three miles without even getting a stitch.
At the bottom of the knoll, there was a pine grove nestled between two hills. It was dark, as the trees were dense, but he was reassured by the thin stream of smoke rising from what could only be a chimney from the depths of the grove. He descended the hill and crossed the final space between him and his destination at a brisk jog.
A small path vanished into the darkness beneath the pines, and the space looked uncomfortably confined. He straightened the satchel on his shoulder and entered the trees. After a few minutes, he stumbled on a twisted root, but managed to catch himself. When he looked up, there was a small wooden hut visible between the sap-scented trunks. A few flat stones speckled the path. A thin trickle of a brook snickered nearby. There was one bird somewhere, but its song faded as it sought a different place to perch.
Taking a deep breath, though he wasn't sure why, he stepped up the path to the crooked door and knocked lightly.
"Come in, Gaius, come in!"
Merlin slowly pushed open the door, clearing his throat as he did so.
"Erm, excuse me, sir. Gaius was busy. I'm Merlin, his ward, and I...I..." The room was empty. A fire flickered dully in the hearth, and by the disturbed dust on a chair and the floor, someone had been there, recently. A second door was slightly open in the opposite side of the hut.
"Okay then..." Merlin nearly made a very hasty retreat even as a twig shattered and a looming presence behind him sent his neck hairs standing on end. He had but a moment to take a step forward and so save himself from being clubbed on the head. As it was, a blunt object cracked across his back, sending strange tingles throughout his body and yanking the air from his lungs. He heard a groan of frustration behind him as he stumbled and crashed on his front to the shack floor, winded.
"Ow," he gasped, trying not to writhe as his spine raged. Then a hand grasped his hair and lifted his head, baring his throat.
"Sorry, mate. I have no choice. I'm sorry."
Merlin felt a dagger edge press against his neck.
"I'm sorry."
0_0
"It appears that I was so intent on catching myself an old gray fox that I overlooked the small monkey hiding in the trees." ~ Gilan (The Ranger's Apprentice)
