~18~ Distraction

Merlin had seen a dog fight in the streets of Camelot once. The two cruelly-treated brutes bit and tore at each other with wild abandon, to kill or be killed, all for the pleasure and coin of their masters. He had been unsure of what to do, desperately wanting to pull the dogs apart but being too afraid to get close, else he lose a hand. Fortunately for the dogs, Merlin wasn't alone that day – Arthur had been patrolling and he was with the warlock when they came across the fight. The dogs were eventually separated and the owners arrested.

But now, Arthur was part of the fight, and there was no one there to separate him from the monster that was taller and stronger than him, not to mention more experienced. Rowan battered the other werewolf mercilessly, knocking him over and disregarding any repercussions Arthur dealt in return. Whines and snarls filled the air, and the sounds were enough to bring tears to Merlin's eyes.

Once, Arthur managed to stand and retreat far enough to get a breather, but did not submit, which invited Rowan to resume the fray. The werewolves circled, then Arthur lunged first, only for Rowan to claw at the side of his head and bash him to the dirt. Before he could stand, the former Silverblood leader latched saliva-drenched teeth around the back of his neck and shook him like a terrier wound a giant rat. Arthur's only fortune was that he was too big for Rowan to shake him hard enough to break his neck, but he was whining as the grey monster raked long claws down his back and he couldn't escape.

Merlin wanted to be sick.

"It's time to move, werewolf."

He tore his teary gaze away from the horrific sight at the sound of Sophia's empathetic but commanding voice. They slipped away from the window looking down into the outpost ruins that was the Blackhand encampment.

"Alright, go," she said. "Distract Claudius."

"What are you doing?"

Sophia was preparing to blend with the shadows. "I'm not the only infuriated Silverblood here, remember? Just do what must be done, and let us handle the rest." She made to turn. "Oh, and werewolf?" Merlin paused. "These half-bloods may have lost much of their gift of our kind, but they will still be able to See your magic. Watch yourself." Then she was gone.

Out of the light of the torches, and covered by the hellish din of the fight, Merlin easily crept around the outer walls of the ruin, meeting no sentries, until he was stationed over Claudius and Argus Vane, near the ruined tower. He was frustrated to see that there were two watchful Blackhands at their flanks, as though they had anticipated a rescue mission.

Damn them.

Sophia had said it was too risky to try and take the Silver Heart by force – she was right. Especially if they could See where his magic, assuming projectile magic, was coming from, he wouldn't stand a chance of escaping, at least without hurting a lot of people.

But wait...Shouldn't they have Seen the magic I used to break the lock of the cage?

A hand fell on his shoulder from behind.

Ah. They did.

Merlin wrestled soundlessly with the Blackhand as the man tried to tie his hands behind his back. The servant kicked and wriggled incessantly, frustrating his captor, but he dared not make a sound lest he warn the others in the camp. He had already silenced the Blackhand with magic, as the cultist quickly found out, so he couldn't call for help. And as Merlin threw his weight over, unbalancing the man so he crashed into a bush, no one saw even a sliver of motion because they were so engaged with the bloody fight raging in the cage.

With a silent snarl, Merlin tackled the man before he could properly stand and cracked him over the head with a rock. As he slumped lifelessly, the servant posed in a half crouch, rock at the ready, but there were no raised alarms. It was as though this Blackhand was the only one who saw Merlin's magic – or perhaps the magic hadn't required enough power to make itself visible to them. The pure Silverbloods would see it, but not the Blackhands.

That was a good advantage to have.

He left the unconscious attacker where he lay and prowled back to his vantage point behind and above Claudius, who was still holding the Silver Heart in his hands. Flashes of memory came unbidden to Merlin's mind, and he remembered the man he had chased, now over a week ago, in the waggon that held the previously undetermined monster. Merlin had broken the horses free of the carriage with magic, and then he had let go before the waggon crashed. The Blackhand driver had jumped as well, but then returned to the site and grabbed the silver animal figurine, now recognized as the Heart, and ran away into the trees.

Merlin had thought him gone for good, but thanks to Baldwin's son, that day in Gregory's Grove, he learned that the Blackhand driver had not left, but instead stayed to watch. From him, the Silverbloods learned that both Merlin and Arthur were infected that day.

And so rose new questions. Was that driver in league with the Silverbloods, or the Blackhands? Not ten minutes ago, Merlin would have thought both, but as he ran through his memories again, it appeared that the driver was purely with the Blackhand Cult. The next question was, Why did the man stay behind to watch? It took more thinking, but the answer came quickly enough, seeing as Merlin found it impossible to trust any Blackhand now. The driver had not only watched, but, in fact, controlled the werewolf Rowan, and ordered it to attack Arthur. After all, if the beast had free rein, then it would have slaughtered them all without a second thought. But why Arthur? Again, the question resolved itself. The Silverbloods had been of no more use when the werewolves were supposedly hunted to extinction a century ago. Half of them returned to their homeland overseas, while the others stayed in Albion, clinging to past glories and triumphs like limpets to a rock. What better way to win back that golden age other than to release the curse of the werewolf back into the world? And to do so with a king would have such a large impact on the county, and, when word got out and the disease spreads, all of Albion.

The warlock wouldn't be surprised if the Blackhands had planned for the Silverblood rejection and protest – it may have helped their cause, in the end. All in all, it was an admirable conspiracy.

Merlin hated conspiracies. Especially when they involved hurting his friends.

Claudius the soothsayer, the man with the Silver Heart that was controlling the werewolves, had a short yet wide sword at his hip. Merlin had half a mind to just draw it with magic and slay the Blackhand, which would probably save the servant a headache later. But instead, he bit his lip and simply let his magic go.

Claudius gave a sound of surprise when his sword drew itself and hovered just inches before his eyes. His guards stared, dumbstruck, glancing once at each other, while Argus Vane remained strangely impassive. Then the soothsayer lunged with his free hand to grab it from the air, only for it to float out of reach. As it returned, it slowly spun, taunting him.

Merlin couldn't help but snicker. Claudius barked at the Blackhands to get the flying sword back for him, but many stared strangely at him while others looked affronted in their hesitation.

They must not respect him very much, the warlock thought with swelling hope.

He amused himself for a while, lifting the blade effortlessly back and forth through the air, pleased that Claudius let him play for so long. The Blackhand spontaneously howled with frustration, seemingly oblivious to the audience he now had: everyone had stopped watching the squabbling werewolves in favour of the mysterious floating sword phenomenon. That is, everyone but the Silverbloods.

Come on, Sophia. Open the bloody door already! Merlin was starting to feel his amusement split, and tension was seeping in through the cracks. Any one of the Blackhands could suddenly See his magic at any moment. Argus Vane was already scanning, seeking the source of the magic. Hurry up!

As though on cue, Sophia plunged down from the shadows and killed the Blackhand holding the broken arena door shut with her knife. Her fellow Silverbloods immediately made confusion, knocking down members of their corrupted kin.

Sophia yelled and waved her arms, immediately getting the attention of the two werewolves. Their ears pricked and they completely forgot each other as they saw freedom at hand.

Claudius saw it, too, and nearly shouted the alarm as he raised the Heart above his head. He never got to say anything, however, for his rebellious sword began to poke him, with a little coaxing from Merlin, of course. The Blackhand yelped when it jabbed into his rear end, and he waved it away as he would a pestering fly, but it was more persistent, not to mention painful, than a mere fly, and Claudius remained distracted enough for the werewolves to howl with triumph as they bolted through the open arena door, clawed up to ground level and fled into the woods, scattering screaming Blackhands like chickens.

And just like that, they were gone.

It's high time I take my leave as well, thought Merlin, just as Claudius dropped the Heart and snatched another Blackhand's sword, to hack at his bothersome floating blade like a madman. It was then that the warlock also noticed that many Blackhands were looking up in his general direction, if they weren't wrestling with Silverbloods. Of these, Vane seemed to be looking directly at him. Merlin felt a tremor of fear start in his toes and work up to his heart.

No, no, you can't see me. It's too dark. As Vane stepped closer, Merlin's gaze flickered to the fallen Silver Heart, and his palms started to sweat. If I use magic to get that, he will See me for sure.

...Well I guess it's worth the risk.

A Blackhand cried out in alarm before Merlin's spell even passed over his tongue. The Heart flew through the air and into his waiting arms, but then he had to flee, as fast as his legs could carry him. He forgot about the rebelling Silverbloods and only concerned himself with himself.

The sounds of pursuit hounded him through the trees, and his body thrummed with adrenaline. His breath came in easy gusts as he put on layer upon layer of speed, leaving the Blackhands far behind.

By his nearly overwhelming sense of smell, he was able to find the way towards the clearing where Kilgharrah said he would wait. In less than two minutes, he saw wide gaps in the trees. He nearly started to slow when an arrow shot past his ear and thudded into a nearby trunk. Ducking, he sped up again, liking the feeling of being hunted less and less with every stride.

Have to lose them soon, else

"AAHG!"

Merlin howled as he felt his foot plunge into a hole and his ankle twist sharply. He fell, tumbling over and over, feeling stabbing pains shoot up his leg. He could do nothing but gasp and remain stiff as he lay on the ground. Even as he heard Blackhands fast approach, it was all he could do to move onto his back enough to ease the pain in his ankle.

He gritted his teeth and grasped under his thigh with both hands. With a grunt, he pulled his leg free, blinking away pain-wrought tears. Nearby, he saw a glimmer of silver – the Heart. Just as he reached for it, the wooden butt of a gnarled staff pinned his sleeve to the ground.

With a feral snarl, Merlin made to grasp the staff and tear it from its wielder, only for him to notice that whoever was holding it was dressed in dark and slightly ragged robes.

"You are in need of some assistance, Emrys?"

Merlin looked up in astonishment at the hooded figure standing above him, not imposing, not threatening, just simply there.

A Druid! he thought in awe.

"Erm...It would be welcome," he stammered, smiling sheepishly.

The Druid lifted his staff, releasing Merlin's sleeve, just as the first Blackhand woman crashed through the bushes twenty paces away. She called the others and drew her sword, closing the distance swiftly.

"We have to go!"

The Druid made no movement as Merlin struggled to stand. The warlock rolled onto his front, balancing on his hands and the knee of the uninjured leg. He grunted as pain rippled through his ankle and he fell over. Through his teeth, he snapped, "Now!" The Druid still did nothing to help, even though the Blackhand was quickly bearing down on them, an eagerness in her movements.

Merlin was preparing to slay the woman before she arrived, but, thankfully for him, it wasn't necessary. He jumped, while the Druid remained calm and still, as Kilgharrah dropped from above, shattering entire trees as he landed between the Blackhand and her pray. The woman had no time to scream before the great dragon crushed her with one mighty paw.

"Again, Merlin, it seems you are in dire need of aid!" Kilgharrah boomed, trying with difficulty to turn around. The clearing was near, but the trees were still confining for a dragon.

"I'm sure your life would be much less interesting without me in it, old friend!"

Merlin's elation was short-lived as the dragon suddenly snarled and hissed. Arrows shot from the longbows of Blackhands could not pierce his scaly hide, but they punched holes through the bronze-coloured membrane of his wings. In moments, the cultists surrounded them all, throwing spears and firing arrows.

"Arise, Emrys. We must leave at once." Finally, the Druid moved to help Merlin stand, and together they made for Kilgharrah's front feet. The warlock cradled the Silver Heart to his chest, and flinched as an arrow shot towards him. To his relief, the Druid had thought to place wards around them, and the quarrel halted several feet from its target before falling uselessly to the ground.

"Seize them!"

Merlin recognized Argus Vane's voice, and turned to see the cult master himself tearing towards them. The warlock quickened his pace, and, once close enough, Kilgharrah was able to pick him and the Druid up in one paw. Projectiles clattered of his belly as he reared on his hind legs, wings spreading wide. With great difficulty, the dragon lifted straight into the air, buffeting the frustrated Blackhands below with a tempest of wind. Soon the night sky was all that was above them, and Kilgharrah flew over the treetops with a roar of triumph, blasting a fiery torrent from his mighty jaws.


After all, why not go without a bit of a bang, eh? ;)

"If you were waiting for the opportune moment...that was it." ~ Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Caribbean)