~17~ The Enemy of My Enemy

Elyan had but a moment to dive to the side of the caged arena and scoop up a buckler before the werewolf was upon him. Merlin watched helplessly from his viewpoint as the beast that had once been Arthur slashed at the hapless knight, snarling viciously. The claws shrieked across the metal studs of Elyan's shield, and then the knight retreated, dodging to the side to where various weapons lay prone in the dirt. He reached a mourning star first and swung it at the beast's head as it pounced. It growled and jumped back, now more wary.

The audience of Silverbloods and their corrupted kin, the Blackhands, cheered the fight on, banging the sides of the giant cage with weapons of their own. Again, Merlin couldn't help but notice that the Silverbloods of Captain Baldwin's company, recognized by their stag mantles, were not nearly as enthusiastic as their brethren, and kept glancing anxiously at the other restless werewolf, the one that was once named Rowan, kept in the side cage. What was more astonishing, and more than a little enigmatic, was when one of their number, the woman called Sophia, glanced furtively around as she backed into the shadows, nodding once at a fellow Silverblood before climbing out of the basement of the outpost ruins by means of a ladder, then vanishing into the woods. Merlin had the urge to go after her, knowing that she was the one who had captured Arthur in the first place, but then he hesitated. He couldn't abandon Elyan.

The knight was having increasing difficulty keeping the werewolf at bay. He swung the mace every time the beast stepped closer, but it was becoming more bolder with every passing moment.

Eventually, as had been inevitable, Elyan staggered back, pulling a hand away from a wound on his shield arm. Tasting blood, the werewolf howled in triumph and came after him. The knight lifted his mace high, only to trip backwards over a club and land on his rear in the dirt. He was defenceless as the beast bore down on him, jaws gaped.

Sorry, Arthur, thought Merlin as his eyes flashed gold.

The werewolf yelped in pain and stared at its hand, then growled. It glared down at Elyan as though blaming him for the agony his limb suddenly and inexplicably experienced, but before it could lash out at him, it snarled as its leg felt the same muscle-wrenching pain, and fell over.

Elyan took advantage of the strange occurrence and swung his mourning star at the beast's back. The spikes could not penetrate the thick hide, but its weight was sufficient enough. The werewolf yelped when the weapon struck its spine, and before it could turn, the knight attacked again, though Merlin saw the hesitation in his motion. The monster was still Arthur, and if he hit a fatal blow...

The warlock aimed his painful magic at the werewolf's other hand, but also held back. It was all the beast needed to whirl around and strike Elyan across the chest, sending him sprawling against the bars of the cage. The spectators of Blackhands laughed and applauded, like a sophisticated rabble of demented rich folk.

Stunned, the knight could not stand, but Merlin saved him once more as he struck his magic at the werewolf's shoulders, making it whine in agony and arch its spine backwards. It fell to its knees as it clawed uselessly at itself, and Elyan had sufficient time to stand and regain ground.

I think you've had enough, Elyan, Merlin said inwardly, and scanned the bars of the arena with a critical eye. There.

It was to the astonishment of all when the door of the cage exploded outward, the lock shattering and the hinges squealing in protest. Like an imprisoned animal finally sensing freedom, Elyan bolted for the exit, hacking at the Blackhand guard who tried to intercept him. Three other corrupted Silverbloods ran after him, but Elyan's desperation helped him to outstrip them all, and he flew up the ladder, knocking down a sentry as he patrolled too near, and vanished into the woods.

Merlin sighed with relief. He'd feared that the knight would stay to try in vain to help Arthur, but instead, he'd thought to return to Camelot to raise the alarm. Merlin himself would deal with this crowd.

"Get after him!" Argus Vane snapped. "Do not let him escape!"

Six cultists swarmed up the ladder and pursued the knight. Merlin was watching avidly when a voice hissed from behind.

"What the hell are you doing?"

The warlock stifled a yelp at the last second but nearly bashed his head on the top of the window sill. He started to turn just as a hand came around and clamped over his mouth.

"Shh! Rhetorical question." It was an unfamiliar voice with a familiar accent, and definitely a woman's.

Merlin was about to set loose a burst of magic that would blast her away, but she tightened her grasp on his mouth and jerked him towards herself until his upper back was against her body, then her hand released his jaw and held a knife less than an inch from his neck. The motion was so fast, it was a miracle she didn't throw both of their balances off and pull him to the ground.

"Don't move, or I'll slit you like a pig. This is silver. I'm sure you know what it feels like by now."

Merlin didn't need to speak to use magic, which would have tipped her off and let her kill him before he could finish any incantation, but he was strangely curious to know what the woman wanted. If she was with the Blackhands, then she would have raised the alarm by now.

"Now tell me, what are you doing here? Are you trying to get yourself killed, werewolf?"

"I'm not a—"

"Save it. I can See the beast within you."

She's a Silverblood! Merlin thought with alarm. But why aren't I dead yet?

"Don't worry about your friend. He'll be fine and go for help. It's your king you should be focusing on."

The woman moved him so that he could see the arena, and he was shocked to see that the beast that was Arthur was standing perfectly still near the centre of the ring, not even acknowledging that there was an open doorway before it.

"What's wrong with him? Why isn't he trying to escape?"

"Because they aren't letting him."

"Huh? What do you mean? Who are you?"

"I was your king's assassin, then kidnapper, and now, hopefully, saviour."

"What?" It was Sophia!

"Ouch! By the Archons, please be quiet and stop squirming! You're hurting my wrist." Even as she said this, the knife at Merlin's throat never budged, be it closer or further away. Her other arm, he finally noticed, was stiff as it held his chest, as though bandaged.

"You're hurt."

"Yes. You have your king to thank for that. But we can discuss retaliations later. I'm going to let you go now."

The warning was not taken lightly, and Merlin gently pulled away from Sophia's embrace and turned.

"What do you mean, they're not letting him escape? They aren't even moving!" he hissed, half-turning as to see the motionless Blackhands, all conversing with each other. Vane was growling at a few of his cultists, berating them for being too slow.

"Arthur Pendragon is under the influence of the Silver Heart."

"The what?"

"You heard me. Stop asking me to repeat myself," Sophia snapped in a hushed tone. "The Heart was a discovery made by the Silverbloods over a century ago. It permits us to gain full control over werewolves."

"What? But...but..."

"I know, this all looks bad, for me, for my kin, and for the Blackhands. But you must understand." Her voice grew pleading. "The Silverbloods, we aren't what we've made out to be. Captain Baldwin isn't as cruel and heartless as you may think."

"Aye, I do think that."

"We should not speak here. We may be seen or heard."

"No. We stay here. Start talking."

The assassin woman sighed. She hesitated frequently as she finally brought the truth to light. "As you may have suspected, the Blackhands are closely related to me and my kin. They are merely Silverbloods who had chosen to remain behind, here in Albion, when our kind was disbanded almost a hundred years ago, after the fall of the last werewolf. The rest of us, including my predecessors, returned to Italia, where we faded from thought and praise." She shook her head in regret. "I—we—had no idea, until a few months ago, what our parted family was doing here in Albion over the past few decades. At least, most of us didn't. It seems that Captain Baldwin and his lieutenants knew of something, but considered it not a threat. That was folly."

"The Blackhands had Rowan, didn't they?"

Sophia stifled her astonishment well. "Yes, they did. Do you know who Rowan was?"

"No. All I know is that he's down there right now, in that cage."

"Yes. Lord Rowan, the ultimate true leader of our order, was the man who slew one of the last werewolves. Baldwin's grandfather was there. He saw the beast fall, and vouched for Rowan's demise as well. Most of us, not including Baldwin, had thought him dead all this time, and it wasn't until a few months ago, in our homeland, that we all learned the truth."

"That Rowan had indeed survived and had been infected."

"Indeed. Baldwin's grandfather, Julius, was Rowan's best friend, and he his. They were inseparable, much like you and your king are now. Julius had just arrived with the Heart in an attempt to cull the werewolf before it bit Rowan, but was too late. As the beast died, Julius took Rowan away and hid him from all those who may want to hurt him, telling only a trusted few. Rowan was the best leader the Silverbloods had ever known, and even today, Baldwin worships him because of the tales passed down from his forefathers. I myself cannot help but admire him as well, which is why I, and my kin, loath to see his remains locked in that cage down there."

Both Sophia and Merlin now looked down at the arena, where Arthur's werewolf still stood like a dazed dog, barely moving but to breathe and lick its lips.

"Why is Rowan still alive?" asked the warlock. "Do werewolves have longer life spans?"

"I will tell you more later, but right now we have to get your king out of there."

"How?"

"It would be impossible to get the Heart from Claudius, Vane's soothsayer, there," Sophia said, indicating with her chin to the Blackhand standing beside Argus. "He reclaimed it by force from our priest, Benjamin. We have to find a way to distract him enough to let Arthur Pendragon get his mind...well, werewolf mind, back and so escape."

"Leave that to me."

"Good. Now—"

"Brothers and sisters, it is unfortunate that our first event was so tragically spoiled by inattention." It was the Blackhand speaker, sadly shaking his head. "However, we still have our beloved Rowan here, who will have no greater pleasure than to rip the offender, who has trespassed on his hard-won territory, to pieces!"

Merlin cursed as he watched the soothsayer, Claudius, lift high the familiar gleaming animal figurine, which could only be the Silver Heart Sophia warned about. As the Blackhand did so, Arthur's beast lifted its head and howled a challenge at the werewolf in the cage. Rowan, in turn, slashed at the ground, pulling up clods of dirt.

"Open the gate!"

It took less than a heartbeat for Rowan to shoot through the tunnel from his small cage to the large arena, where he immediately went about doing what Claudius had promised: ripping Arthur to pieces.


*Hides behind shield while explaining quickly:* I didn't mean for this to be a cliffie but with the next section it would have been too long don't hurt me!

"Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." ~ Niccolò Machiavelli (?)