Gwaine cursed his luck for being the one on duty that night when the messenger arrived with word that Denaria, Camelot's northernmost garrison, had fallen to enemy hands. It was now Gwaine's duty to wake the First Knight with the news.
The messenger was nearly as exhausted as the horse which had brought him, which was a testament to the urgency of his mission given that royal couriers were praised for their endurance as well as their speed. Gwaine told the man to wait in the Great Hall, instructed a squire to fetch the courier water and food, and went to make his report.
Leon's obvious displeasure at being awoken was quickly replaced by grim determination when he heard what Gwaine had to relay.
"Urien?" he asked.
Gwaine shook his head ominously. "No, Sarrum of Amata."
Leon paled at the name.
"I'll fetch Merlin while you take this to the king." Gwaine expected Leon to show his usual discomfort at mention of the sorcerer but the First Knight merely nodded, dressing as quickly as he could.
Gwaine led Leon to where the messenger was waiting so he could hear the tale firsthand while the dark-haired knight hastened to the physician's chambers. Gaius did not stir as Gwaine crossed the cluttered workroom by the light of a torch he had snatched from a wall sconce in the corridor. Then he eased open the door to the small chamber at the top of the steps and stopped in his tracks. The bed was empty and there was no sign Merlin had been there that night.
So he had been right in thinking there was something different about Merlin lately. It could have been merely that the young man no longer had to hide his magic, and that was undoubtedly part of why he seemed more self-assured, but there had been something else as well, an underlying happiness. Now that Gwaine thought about it, the relationship between Arthur and Merlin had changed recently. The king was more open about his respect for his friend, even giving him a seat at the Round Table and abandoning any pretense Merlin was just a servant.
Gwaine briefly considered waking Gaius to ask if he knew his ward's whereabouts, but if he was right in his suspicion he did not think Gaius would be forthcoming. He left the physician's quarters and went directly to the king's apartments.
Arthur was awake and his manservant was assisting him to hastily don travel clothes while Leon waited, relaying as much information as the messenger had told him in their brief interview. At Gwaine's entrance both Arthur and Leon fixed their eyes on him.
Arthur frowned. "Where's Merlin?"
"He wasn't in his bedchamber," Gwaine answered. "I thought …"
Leon gave the knight a sour look. The king looked irritated. Gwaine was grateful the urgency of their response to the Sarrum's attack would forestall any retaliation for his insinuation that Merlin spent his nights in Arthur's chamber. He heard Gwen's amused chuckle from behind the closed bedcurtains and realized that piece of gossip had been true: the queen chose not to spend her nights in her own beautiful chambers.
For an instant Arthur looked uncertain about what he was about to reveal. "Check Princess Mithian's quarters," he finally said. "We march without delay and we have much to discuss before we do."
Arthur gave the knight an impatient look and Gwaine realized he was standing with his mouth open before he shut it and hurried out of the room.
When he arrived outside the princess' chamber he knocked lightly before reminding himself there was a battle waiting for them and it was urgent both he and Merlin be present at the war council. A lady's tender sensibilities would have to be put aside. He pounded more forcefully but before he could call out or make any more noise he heard the door being unbarred and Mithian herself stood there wearing a hastily-donned shift.
Gwaine cleared his throat and determinedly kept his eyes fixed on her face. "I'm sorry to disturb you, my lady, but it is urgent." He hesitated, unsure how to frame his request, but Mithian stood aside to allow him to enter. Merlin's voice came from inside the room.
"Gwaine?"
The knight stepped in quickly and Mithian closed the door behind him. Merlin's head poked around the bed hangings as he obviously donned trousers. His instinctive grin at the sight of his friend filled with unease at Gwaine's expression.
"Is Arthur in danger?"
"His Highness is in the council chambers. There's been an attack, we need to move out."
Merlin's expression hardened and he hurriedly collected his shirt. Gwaine glanced at Mithian. She was pale but her features were composed. One of her hands rested on the belly which showed her advanced state.
"Merlin," she said.
He paused at the sound of her voice to look at her.
"Please take care of yourself."
He gave her what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "I'm always careful."
"No, you're not," Mithian and Gwaine chorused together.
Merlin gave them a sheepish look and finished dressing.
"Sir Gwaine."
The dark-haired knight turned to the princess.
"Please watch out for him."
Gwaine grinned at her pleading expression. "I always try to."
Mithian gave him a grateful smile and Merlin rolled his eyes at them both as he came closer, fully dressed.
He grasped Mithian's arms and turned her to face him. "I promise to be careful if you promise to take care of yourself and not worry." He laid one hand on her belly. "I swear I will come back."
Gwaine could see that she knew Merlin could not make such a promise any more than she could stop herself from worrying. The knight turned away when she reached up to touch Merlin's cheek and he leaned down to kiss her.
When Gwaine arrived at the council chamber with Merlin, Arthur barely glanced up from the table littered with maps he, Leon, Percival, and Elyan were crowded around. Every torch and candle in the room had been lit and a haze of smoke lingered in the air. Elyan rubbed his eyes before focusing again on the maps.
Leon indicated the fortification that had fallen and the path the Sarrum's warriors had likely taken on their march from Amata to the fortress at Denaria. "They must have passed through Rheged, here, but word is that no harm was done."
Arthur looked at him significantly. "So Urien allowed Amata's army safe passage?"
Leon hesitated. "It is possible he marched through without Urien's permission."
"When the Sarrum crossed through Mercia his warriors left a path of destruction in their wake, yet Rheged was untouched."
"Yes, Sire."
The implication was clear, although without hard evidence Urien would not be held to account for his alliance with Amata.
"I saw the Sarrum once and only once," Arthur said heavily. "He and his warriors attended a tournament here when I was ten years old. It was not intended to be a fight to the death, but every opponent any of them faced was killed. They are fierce fighters and they take no prisoners. I don't expect anyone in the garrison stationed at Denaria to be alive, I expect to find their heads on pikes outside the stronghold."
Elyan shivered and Leon gritted his teeth. Percival's hand clenched and unclenched causing the muscles of his bare arms to flex.
The king fixed his eyes on Merlin. "His hatred of sorcery outstripped even my father's." Arthur ran a hand through his blond hair which was standing on end in places as though it had been ruffled frequently. "At one time I considered inviting him here to meet with me."
"Why?" demanded Gwen as she entered the room to join them.
"I thought he may be able to assist us against Morgana."
"Arthur, you could never verify those rumours," the queen said.
"No, but I believe them."
Gwaine was puzzled. "What rumours?"
"That the Sarrum held Morgana prisoner," Leon said. "For over a year, maybe two. The rumours said five but we know that must be an exaggeration."
"Morgana?" Elyan questioned. "Prisoner?"
Arthur nodded meaningfully.
"How?" Merlin questioned softly.
"I don't know. I'm not sure anyone outside Amata does." Arthur met each of their eyes in turn. "I want you all to know what we're dealing with. The Sarrum's warriors will have converted our keep at Denaria into their own stronghold, they will fight to the death to hold it if the Sarrum tells them to, and they are reputed to take down ten men for every one of them that falls in battle. You have three hours to prepare your men to march north and retake that outpost. They will advance no further into my lands."
When the sun broke over the horizon, Arthur and his army were already several leagues from the city, the king at the head of the column of mounted knights and foot soldiers following behind. The ground beneath them was soggy with early morning dew and difficult to see in the dim early morning light. The air was heavy with moisture the sun had yet to burn away. Gwaine nudged his horse up next to Merlin's where he rode alone, lost in thought.
Merlin glanced at the dark-haired knight and smiled slightly. "Hello, Gwaine."
"So, my friend, you have more secrets."
Merlin gave him an arch look. "Whatever might you be referring to?"
The dark-haired knight gave his friend a curious look. "How did you end up with a princess?"
"I have no idea," Merlin said with a note of wonder in his voice.
"You really don't understand why those who know you would do anything for you, do you?" The knight merely shook at his head at Merlin's puzzled expression.
"Why aren't you married, Gwaine?" Merlin asked, obviously embarrassed at the intense scrutiny.
"All the best women are taken."
Merlin snorted with laughter. "There are plenty of other ladies available."
"Ladies remind me too much of my toad of a sister. I prefer tavern wenches. You know, when you weren't in your bedchamber the first place I looked was Arthur's room."
Merlin chuckled. "I'm sure he didn't take kindly to that. Those rumours always irritated him more than me."
"I don't know why it would bother him, he has no problem with Percival." Gwaine shook his hair back from his face. "I used to wonder about you and Lancelot, but I guess I know now what secret you two were hiding."
"I couldn't tell you Gwaine." Merlin gave the knight a look that pleaded for understanding. "Just knowing would have meant you were committing treason and Uther already regarded you as a criminal."
"I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around," Gwaine said. "But after Uther's death, surely you didn't think Arthur would execute you for being a sorcerer?"
Merlin was silent for so long that Gwaine was not sure his friend was going to answer. Then he spoke slowly, staring straight ahead.
"I've seen Arthur speak of those who have magic with such loathing in his eyes. I never wanted him to look at me that way." Merlin turned suddenly to catch Gwaine's eyes on him. "Since the battle with Alined I've noticed people giving me that look."
Gwaine was reminded of the scrawny young man he thought he knew standing on the battlefield, a glowing column lighting the ring of fascinated onlookers in the midst of the fighting. "There are wild stories circulating about you; how you're no ordinary sorcerer, how you transported us all by magic art to that battle and then to the next in the blink of an eye."
"You know that isn't true."
"Yes, but I saw the size of that ball of fire coming down on us from the sky, and you just waved your hand at it."
"I didn't conjure it, I just threw it back," Merlin said.
"It took two of them to conjure it and you just tossed it back," Gwaine said slowly. "I saw what happened to them, what was left at the end of the battle."
The wounded expression on his friend's face cut at Gwaine's heart.
"I had to," Merlin said quietly.
"I know, we wouldn't have won that battle or avoided the next without your help."
"That doesn't matter to some, though, does it," Merlin said.
Gwaine knew Merlin was hurt by how Leon studiously avoided the sorcerer, foregoing the company of Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and even Arthur himself when they were with Merlin.
"Leon thinks highly of you, you know. He's just struggling to reconcile his own past, everything he did under Uther's orders and maybe Arthur's, with you being who you are. He knows we are lucky you're with us. And speaking of luck," Gwaine eyed his friend speculatively. "That evening a few months ago when I finally convinced you to join us in the tavern for a few drinks and a friendly game of dice, you were uncannily lucky at gambling."
"That was your own fault. You know I can't hold my liquor."
"You neglected to mention that your being drunk means using magic to cheat at dice."
"I object to the word 'cheat'. I concede that being drunk might have impaired my good judgement," Merlin answered loftily.
"Will you give the winnings back?"
"No."
Gwaine gave his friend with a searching look. "The fire that saved the three of us from those slave traders, before we found the Cup of Life, I take it that was you?"
Merlin nodded.
"You and Lancelot never intended to take out the warning bell when we made our attempt to recapture Camelot, you were after the Cup, weren't you? That's how that immortal army suddenly vanished."
His friend nodded again, hesitantly.
"Keep the winnings, my friend," the knight grinned.
Merlin grinned back. "Thanks, Gwaine."
Arthur had set up camp in the wooded area surrounding the fortress at Denaria and sent scouts to survey what had been Camelot's northernmost outpost. As he had feared, there was no indication that any member of the garrison which had been stationed there was left alive and indeed several heads were mounted on pikes around the keep's walls.
Then word came from the Sarrum offering to talk terms, offering to meet with Arthur on open ground beyond arrow range of the stronghold's walls. Amata's ruler would bring only one warrior with him and he would allow Arthur only one knight to accompany him.
At the appointed time, Arthur, Merlin, Leon, and Gwaine left camp to approach the stronghold. Arthur ordered Leon and Merlin to stay at the edge of the forest which encroached the keep's battlements on the west side where the shadows of the trees stretched nearly to the walls. The king and Gwaine crossed the stretch of open ground in front of the southern gates to meet the Sarrum and his attendant.
Both Merlin and Leon simultaneously protested being left behind.
"Arthur –"
"Sire –"
The king held up a hand to forestall what they were going to say. "If anything goes wrong you need to ensure Amata's troops get no further and we retake this fortress."
Looking back, Arthur barely contained his outrage at having fallen for the Sarrum's deception. He and Gwaine had ridden out from the cover of the trees to meet the Sarrum. The man had less hair than Arthur remembered from the tournament so long ago, but the cruelly treacherous expression had not changed. The king had been mildly surprised to see the Sarrum had kept to terms and had only one warrior with him, although that warrior was the size of a giant. Despite the coolness of the evening, both of them had been bare-armed.
Amata's ruler had delivered to Arthur a set of outrageous demands knowing perfectly well such terms would never be accepted. Then with a smirk he had wheeled his mount and rode back to the safety of his battlements, his giant warrior at his side. Arthur had been only slightly disappointed, not having held much hope for any kind of truce, and more than a little suspicious. But he had not anticipated arriving back at the spot where he had left Leon and Merlin to find Leon seriously wounded and Merlin gone.
The First Knight's right arm had been hit by a crossbow bolt, but he was conscious. Leon's testimony as well as the evidence at the site of the attack were clear: Merlin had been the target. Arthur felt the cold grip of panic at the sight of his friend's blood where Leon said he had fallen after the crossbow bolt pierced his side.
It only made matters worse when Gwaine blamed Leon for Merlin's abduction. Despite the First Knight's obvious injury, as far as Gwaine was concerned the fact the other knight was alive meant he had not fulfilled his duty, that he had somehow failed to prevent the abduction because he refused to protect a sorcerer.
All through the night Arthur paced in the royal tent in the centre of his camped troops, gripped alternately by rage at having considered the mere possibility the Sarrum intended to negotiate in good faith and an icy fear for Merlin. There was only one reason the Sarrum would target the one unarmed man in the party: he knew Merlin was a sorcerer.
And the Sarrum's feelings about magic and sorcery were well known, as was his horrific treatment of prisoners. Arthur's own father, feared in his own right as a ruler, had in turn privately feared the Sarrum. The man's brutality was a point of pride with him and tales were told in horrified whispers of men, women, and children staked and hung to die slowly and publicly as a show of the Sarrum's power. Arthur was never able to obtain firsthand accounts of such things because spies sent to Amata failed to return and in the end Arthur stopped sending his people into the Sarrum's territory. For the same reason, he could never confirm the rumours the man had held Morgana prisoner or obtain any details of how he had done it.
Now this man had Merlin, wounded, possibly unable to defend himself. Arthur had seen Merlin accomplish amazing feats of power but he was human and he was vulnerable. If Morgana could be captured and imprisoned for such a length of time, so could Merlin. If there was any reason for the Sarrum to keep him alive.
The candles on a stand in Arthur's tent had burnt down to nubs which emitted more smoke than light. One guttered out and Arthur swiped a hand at it, sending the stand crashing to the ground.
Elyan rushed into the tent, panting as if he had run from the far edge of camp. "A message from the Sarrum, Sire. He wants you to meet with him inside the stronghold, he says he will return the hostage you are looking for."
By midday the arrangements were made.
"Sire," Elyan began as he, Gwaine, and Percival rode with the king toward the keep.
Its walls were visible above the treetops, bright sunlight reflecting off the armour of those who patrolled the battlements.
Arthur held up a hand but did not say a word. They had been through this many times since the Sarrum's message arrived and Arthur had said all he was going to say. Over a wounded but recovering Leon's protests, against the advice of the other knights, even Gwaine's, and despite Arthur's own better judgement, he was going to bow to the Sarrum's terms.
Arthur stopped at the edge of the woods beyond the keep's gates. This time the sun was above their heads, beating down with a fierce intensity the trees did little to dispel. The knights would remain here out of arrow range while Arthur rode to the stronghold alone.
With a hard look at each of them Arthur silently communicated to them to remain where they were. If, as was likely, the Sarrum proved treacherous, they had sufficient troops to mount an assault on the keep. King Arthur's death would not go unavenged.
He dismounted and strode calmly up to Denaria's gates.
Merlin felt consciousness drag him up out of oblivion but even though he believed his eyes were open he could see nothing. There was a burning sensation in his side. He touched the area and a stab of pain made him cry out. His fingers came away sticky and warm and he recognized the familiar smell of blood.
Moving his hand also made him realize he was shackled. He closed his eyes to help him gather strength and whispered a spell that would unlock the chains. Instead of feeling the cold metal relinquish its hold on his wrists, Merlin felt his own magic curl back on him with another stab of pain, as icy cold as the throbbing wound in his side was burning. He could not remain conscious.
The next time Merlin opened his eyes he lay still for several minutes, calming a rising sense of panic. Forcibly he slowed his breathing and gathered strength again for the spell. This time he was prepared for the icy stab of pain even as horror gripped him. He had heard stories of the Sarrum imprisoning Morgana but had thought the rumours were false. Now he wondered if this was what held her captive, if perhaps these were the very shackles she had worn. He deliberately tamped down his rising panic and fought both his weariness and his fear to gather strength yet again. He tried a different spell but it, too, twisted back on him and he cried out in pain. He stomach protested.
Merlin could not determine how much time passed; it could have been hours but it felt like days. Breathing deeply, he concentrated on the details of his surroundings although the darkness around him was absolute. He lay on what must be solid rock. His wounded side had stopped bleeding but the hole where the bolt had pierced him needed treatment. The stone he lay on felt cold under his cheek, but the sensation in his wrists where the shackles bound him felt colder, as if his arms were encased in ice. That chill crept down his fingers and further up his arms the more he tried to use magic to free himself. His stomach was roiling now. Tears of frustration tracked down his face, drying on his cheeks as he lay there trying to bring himself to make another attempt.
Then stone scraped against stone and a flickering blaze shone down on him from above. Rough hands seized him and dragged him up, aggravating his wounded side. He kept his eyes shut against the brightness of the torches. He felt himself dropped on a cold stone floor, his face pressed against the solid rock, warm blood oozing again from his side.
A boot dug itself into the wound, forcing him to cry out in pain and his eyes flew open as he was unceremoniously rolled onto his back.
"Well, boy, I hope you're enjoying the hospitality Amata shows to sorcerers. Those shackles are a family heirloom passed down to ensure evil is kept in check. I'm told the stronger the magic, the more pain a sorcerer feels. Morgana learned not to even try to use her power, it hurt too much. Her screams echoed off the walls of her pit a time or two."
Merlin tried to focus on the man above him in the unaccustomed brightness of the torches but he had only an impression of a short, stocky man without much hair wearing a cruel smile. A wave of sympathy Merlin had not allowed himself to feel for Morgana in a long time washed over him. She had endured this for months, possibly even years, and survived. So could he. If his wound did not kill him first.
Apparently the Sarrum was done talking, or perhaps he was disappointed in Merlin's lack of response. The sorcerer's arms were grasped roughly on both sides and he was hauled along behind the Sarrum as the burly man led his warriors up out of what was probably the dungeon. Merlin felt the terrain under his dragging legs change from smooth rock to gravel at the same time as they emerged into sunlight. A courtyard likely.
The Sarrum stopped and Merlin felt his arms released but he had no strength in them to stop himself from dropping face-first onto the ground. He heard the Sarrum's cold voice greet someone with a contemptuous false deference.
Then Merlin heard another voice answer the Sarrum and Merlin's breath left in a rush. How could Arthur be so foolish as to come inside the keep? Surely he had better sense than that, surely the knights would have stopped him, but no, there was no doubt that was Arthur's voice.
Merlin found it hard to concentrate on their words over the renewed pain in his side but he heard a note of barely-restrained fury in Arthur's tone. Whether they were arguing or negotiating, Arthur said clearly that Camelot's troops were poised to attack the keep and that they had the military might and the king's orders to do just that.
The Sarrum only gave a snort of disbelief and replied simply, "Not as long as you are alive. Mostly alive, even."
In anger, Merlin gathered every bit of power he could hold in himself and directed it at the cold, stocky man facing Arthur only to have that power turn back against him. He screamed at the pain which felt like a sword of ice slicing him open.
Arthur's voice was hoarse, the fury replaced with a note of horror, as he asked what had caused the cry.
"My special restraints."
Through the reverberating pain Merlin felt that same boot roll him onto his back causing the metal shackles on his arms to clank against the chain links which held them together.
"It turns a sorcerer's own magic against him, causing pain. It seems fair to use evil against itself, doesn't it? Like that witch, Morgana. She's nothing to be feared; I kept her like an animal for two years, her and that creature from hell. It was such a shame; all that power, all that beauty, abandoned and forgotten in a living grave. I found her weakness: a young dragon. Her love for that creature caused her to suffer more than she ever imagined possible. As it grew, the creature became too big for the pit. Its cries were more heartbreaking than Morgana's."
Outrage flashed through Merlin along with dawning comprehension. Aithusa's deformities, her lack of speech, they were the result of being trapped by the Sarrum along with Morgana.
"Dragons cannot be used like that!" he shouted, staring up at the Sarrum.
The power in his voice coming from someone who appeared too weak to even raise his head startled both men facing each other above him. A flash of apprehension crossed their features fleetingly, but the Sarrum was quick to recover.
A fit of coughing overtook Merlin which further aggravated his bleeding side.
"Be quiet, boy, or –"
The rest of what the Sarrum was going to say was interrupted by a hoarse yell, weak though Merlin's voice was, his head lifting slightly from the gravel.
"O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
At the end of his shout Merlin's head dropped down again, exhausted, staring up at the sky.
"Mutter all you want, boy, your pitiful incantations will have no effect." The Sarrum aimed another kick at Merlin.
Despite the pain of the blow, he was too weak to react.
Arthur clenched his hand around the hilt of his sword and the giant warrior behind the Sarrum did the same, not the least daunted at the prospect of a duel with the renowned Arthur Pendragon.
"The men of Amata are born with swords in their hands. If you dare to challenge Albin –" The Sarrum broke off again at the sound of wings bringing some airborne creature closer. As he squinted into the sunshine, there was a flash of surprise in the Sarrum's eyes which was quickly replaced by hard determination. "We captured that monster once, we can do so again."
He turned to shout orders at his men, only to see their eyes grow wide. The Sarrum looked back at the creature which was now almost directly above them. Its wingspan blocked the sun the entire width of the courtyard.
As the Sarrum drew a shocked breath to shout orders again, a blast of fire swept across the courtyard, scorching the ground everywhere except the spot where the two rulers stood, Merlin laying on the cobbled ground between them. None of Amata's warriors save the giant standing closest to the Sarrum were left alive. Smoke drifted up from the charred, lifeless bodies, along with the smell of roasted flesh and the stink of burning hair.
The dragon banked and turned in the sky to pass over the keep again, its massive jaws opening. The Sarrum sprinted for the cover of the citadel with Albin at his heels. They never made it before a scorching blast of dragon fire swept over them.
Arthur instinctively assumed a defensive pose, trying to shelter both Merlin's prone body and himself but he carried no shield. Seeing the dragon turn again in the sky after killing the Sarrum and his giant warrior, the king desperately grasped Merlin by the arms to drag him to safety even though he knew there was not enough time.
Arthur took two steps before a rush of air from the dragon's wings swept over them. The king dropped Merlin's arms and spun to meet the onslaught, drawing his sword even as he turned. But the dragon paid him no heed. Before Arthur could react, the immense creature had grasped Merlin in its talons and flew away.
Percival's shout alerted Gwaine. He looked questioningly at his fellow knight before following with his eyes the direction the big man pointed. Then Gwaine felt his own eyes widen at the sight of a monstrous dragon in flight. Satisfaction that such a danger was heading toward the enemy was quickly replaced with additional fear for Merlin and the king.
In what seemed like a blink, the massive dragon's fiery breath had blasted what must be the courtyard of the keep inside the main gate, near the entrance Arthur had so recently gone through.
As one, all three knights sprinted across the open ground between the shelter of the trees and the walls of the keep. They heard the rushing roar of dragon fire as the creature made another pass over the fortress and saw smoke drift above the tall gates.
Ignoring the heavy wooden barriers which they knew could not be opened from outside, the knights made their way under cover of the keep's walls to the smaller side gate through which Arthur had been admitted.
"It will be barred," Elyan said.
Percival nodded but before any of them could attempt to force their way in, the gate opened from inside to reveal Arthur standing there, sword drawn. Elyan had raised his own blade and simultaneously they both dropped their weapons, an expression of profound relief on Elyan's face.
"The Sarrum is dead," Arthur said. "I have no idea who his successor might be. We have to get out of here before the remainder of Amata's troops regroup."
"We're not leaving without Merlin," Gwaine said.
Despair was evident in Arthur's face and voice as he said flatly, "The dragon took Merlin."
The bald pronouncement was met with a shocked silence broken only by Arthur pushing through the knights' ranks, a stench of burning meat drifting from the open gate behind him. Smoke stung their eyes and the backs of their throats. The sound of wings had faded into the distance.
From the foot of the main gates Arthur glanced up at the top of the wall, but there was no way to know for sure whether the battlements were manned once more. The king signalled their retreat and the four of them rushed for the cover of the trees. One brave soul was apparently back on watch because a single arrow thudded into the ground behind them before they reached the safety of the forest.
As Arthur moved to mount his horse, Gwaine put out a hand to halt him. "What do you mean the dragon took Merlin?" he growled.
"Picked him up in its talons and flew away." Arthur shook off the knight's hand.
Gwaine had never heard of a person being carried away by a dragon; an occasional large animal, presumably for food, but not a person. He felt himself pale at the thought.
"Merlin is better able to take care of himself than you give him credit for."
Percival's calm words gave Gwaine a brief feeling of hope.
"Merlin was bleeding from his side where the crossbow bolt stuck him and manacled with some kind of shackle which prevented him from using magic," Arthur said.
Horror-struck, all three knights stared at Arthur's expressionless face.
"We have to follow after them," Gwaine demanded, although even as he said it he knew it was impossible.
"We cannot track a dragon in flight." Percival laid a hand on Gwaine's shoulder.
"We need to return to camp." Without another word Arthur mounted his waiting horse.
Gwaine refused to join in the battle plans to retake the keep being discussed in Arthur's tent. Instead, he sat alone at the edge of camp in the waning light. He did not care whether they successfully drove the last of the warriors out or put an end to this war with Amata. The dark-haired knight had lost friends and comrades over the years, in battles and brawls, but it cut him deeply that Merlin would be gone now after all Gwaine had seen him do in the past months. There was a wrongness about it that gnawed at his insides.
He sat staring into the forest as the sky above went from blue to dark blue to black, until stars filled the cloudless sky and the trees faded into an expanse of formless black. Finally he got to his feet and took his place beside Percival among the silent knights outside Arthur's tent, each staring into the campfire quietly as though holding a vigil.
When Merlin opened his eyes, the sun was low in the eastern sky, beginning its climb through wisps of purple cloud, and the sky in the west was still dark blue. It had been full daylight when he was dragged into the sunlit courtyard of the Sarrum's stronghold, so a night must have passed. He came fully awake as memories rushed back of darkness, pain, and Arthur's voice.
The horrible feeling of not being able to use magic clamped a frozen hand on his heart at the same moment he became conscious his wrists were no longer icy cold. He lifted his free hands in front of his face. Relief washed over him, then he felt for the wound in his side which no longer burned with pain. It was healed, the only sign of any injury the torn tunic crusted with dry blood.
He was lying on grass carpeted by twigs and leaves, not hard stone, and the breeze on his face spoke of wide open space and smelled of pine needles. Slowly he turned his head to see the Great Dragon sitting on its haunches, waiting for him to waken. Merlin sat up, a smile spreading across his face, as he rubbed at the lingering soreness in his side with unchained hands.
"Thank you."
The dragon gave him a regal nod in acceptance. "It is my pleasure."
"Where are they?" Merlin asked, his forehead wrinkling in distaste at the thought of the manacles.
"Destroyed," Kilgharrah said.
Merlin's eyes followed the direction of the dragon's gaze to see a charred spot of ground, twisted shards of metal in the centre of the burned patch. "Good."
"Dragons are not built for fine handiwork," Kilgharrah said. "You may have some cuts and bruises on your arms."
"I don't care," Merlin said forcefully, ignoring the scratch marks as he rubbed the red patches of skin around both wrists. "As long as those things are gone."
"I understand."
Staring at the majestic creature, Merlin was reminded of the dragon's long imprisonment beneath the city of Camelot and he felt a new empathy for what Kilgharrah had suffered. And remembered what the dragon had been waiting for all that time. "Arthur has made the land safe for magic once again."
Even as he got to his feet the dragon's alien bulk towered far above him.
"You and Arthur have made Camelot safe, it is true. But there are those who would tear apart what you have built. It is your destiny to unite the lands in an acceptance of magic, only then will there be peace." The great head bent closer, ancient yellow eyes fixed unblinkingly on him. "Enemies can be defeated in battle but also through friendship. Your king will need to know when to take up the sword and when to lay it aside. You will need to trust those you believe to be enemies but you must be on your guard from some you believe to be friends."
A breeze brushed a few strands of hair from Merlin's face. He regarded the familiar face covered in scales with its giant maw, its spiked horns, and its wide nostrils that could spout flame or breathe ancient magic. Four thick legs were planted firmly with bat-like wings folded at both sides. Then Merlin frowned and looked more closely. "Are you all right?"
"Of course."
"Your wing." Merlin gestured at the dragon's left side.
"I am tired, Emrys, that is all," Kilgharrah sighed. "But I shall serve you as long as I have the strength."
"If you are ill I can heal you." Merlin was pleased to be able to return the favour the Great Dragon had done him.
"There are some things even a warlock as great as you cannot overcome. I am old, Emrys. My time has almost come."
The ominous way the dragon said that made Merlin wonder if the creature knew his own death was near. The dragon had been at times guide, protector, even enemy; not always trustworthy, often cryptic, but a source of knowledge and rescue when all else failed. "No," he protested, terrified at the thought that soon there would be a time when Kilgharrah might not come at his call.
"It is the cycle of life, no more, no less."
"What will I do without you?"
"You will remember me."
A touch of annoyance at the glib answer coloured the deep sadness washing through Merlin. "Will I see you again?"
Without answering, the dragon shook out his wings, spread them wide, and took to the air.
Merlin watched until Kilgharrah was a speck in the sky before he looked around to assess his vaguely familiar surroundings. It had been a long time since he last rode through here when in reality he judged only a day or two could have passed since his capture by the Sarrum. He chose his direction carefully and began walking back to where he thought Arthur's troop was camped.
Merlin made certain the sentries were aware of his approach, making it as obvious he was alone and unarmed. He had no intention of being shot down by a Camelot guard after all he had just survived. As soon as he was near enough to be recognized, he saw word of his arrival being passed along, although the soldier shot him a look of mixed incredulity and fear before he headed toward the main body of the camp. Apparently word had already spread through the ranks of the sorcerer's presumed death.
Merlin did his best to return the silent stares of those he passed with an unconcerned smile as he walked through the camp, headed for the royal tent in the centre where his friends would almost certainly be. As he had expected, Gwaine met him before he could get halfway there. The knight enfolded him in a bone-crushing hug which ended with a pat on the back that nearly knocked him over. Percival and Elyan were right behind to contribute their own punches to his arm that had the sorcerer wincing even as he smiled at their welcome and obvious relief at his safe return.
When they stepped aside, Merlin met Arthur's eyes and his smile vanished at the king's incredulous expression. Arthur was examining him closely, pointedly noting the healed wound and unencumbered wrists.
"How is this possible? I saw you, you were injured, you were …"
The king broke off and the expression of anguish in his face made Merlin cringe. When Arthur saw him last he must have looked as bad as he had felt.
"We thought you were dead," the king said.
"Kilgharrah healed me and got rid of those things."
"Who?"
Merlin realized he would not know the name. "The Great Dragon."
"You refer to that monster by name?" The disbelief at Merlin's return from certain death was being replaced by a horrible dawning comprehension which Merlin watched play across the king's face. "That creature looked remarkably like the one I fought to stop from destroying Camelot leaving people burnt, dying, and homeless after it inexplicably broke free of its bonds."
"You did not strike it a mortal blow," Merlin said.
"You lied." It was a flat statement. "You let that creature escape after laying waste to half the city."
"I know what Kilgharrah is responsible for, I was there!" Merlin all but shouted. He took a deep breath. "I was there, I helped Gaius treat the injured – children, innocent bystanders, the ones who tried to fight the fires – and I stood beside you watching defenders cut down by dragon fire and crushed by collapsing battlements." Visions of the destruction flashed through his mind as they sometimes haunted his nightmares. He passed a hand over his eyes. "Kilgharrah must have believed his hatred of Uther justified such a revenge; I can only think that a creature who has lived for over a thousand years must count our short lives as insignificant."
"That hardly excuses the death and suffering, people permanently blinded, injured, homeless."
"I know, and I wanted to kill him for it. But I couldn't do it. I ordered Kilgharrah to leave and never come back."
"You … what?" Arthur's eyes widened. "That monster came when you called it, it came to save you from the Sarrum because you spoke to it. That's not magic, what kind of power is that?"
There was a gasp from Elyan and even Gwaine and Percival were regarding Merlin with something akin to awe.
"It was a gift I inherited from my father, Balinor," the sorcerer answered tentatively.
Arthur's brow wrinkled. "I've heard that name."
"You and I met him once, briefly."
Merlin saw the flash of recognition followed by a series of emotions which flickered across Arthur's face in quick succession: understanding, compassion, sympathy, speculation.
Merlin straightened his shoulders. "Yes, I am the one that set the Great Dragon free."
"Why?"
"It was our bargain; Camelot would have fallen to Sigan if I hadn't promised to set Kilgharrah free, but I probably would have done it anyway. He was a creature of magic and he deserved to be unshackled, free to roam the earth. I just wish I could have stopped him from carrying out his revenge. Those deaths are on my conscience and not a day passes that I don't think about what I could have done to avert what followed after I turned the dragon loose."
Arthur sighed deeply. "You couldn't have known what would happen."
"I did. I knew what he would do, but that didn't stop me. I'm sorry," Merlin replied, anguished.
"Yes, you said that at the time. I didn't know why you felt so guilty."
"Because I was, it was all my fault. But you should know that Kilgharrah has saved my life before this and all of ours, more than once."
"I see." There was a searching look in Arthur's eyes. "You have some explaining to do, Merlin. Perhaps you can enlighten us as to where Morgana got a dragon."
"You were at the tomb before us. You had already escaped the collapsing tower when we arrived," Elyan exclaimed.
"You smuggled that egg all the way to Camelot right under our noises?" Gwaine asked.
"I'm sure Morgana appreciated the effort," Arthur said.
Merlin flushed. "I don't know why or how Aithusa – the white dragon – befriended Morgana, but I will not let the dragon cause any harm."
"The creature would obey you like the Great Dragon does?" Arthur guessed.
"She would have to, yes," Merlin said.
"In the same way you ordered that monstrous beast to rescue you from the Sarrum?"
"Kilgharrah must come when I call but he would want to protect me, anyway. We are kin."
Arthur stared at him with a wariness he had not displayed when Merlin admitted to having magic. Finally the king heaved a sigh. "I am glad you're all right, Merlin."
"Does that mean you were worried about me?"
"Yes, I was. Now, if you don't mind, we were planning a siege."
As Arthur and the other knights turned to leave, Gwaine put out a hand to stop Merlin from following after them.
"We thought you were dead," Gwaine said heavily.
Merlin was struck by the deep lines worry had carved into the knight's gruff face. "I'm sorry."
"Mithian asked me to look after you and I didn't. But I guess you didn't need my help, anyway."
"I was lucky that crossbow bolt didn't kill me, and that they dragged me out of that hole before I bled to death," Merlin said seriously. "That we were outside in a place big enough for the dragon to get to me."
A wry grin erased the worry lines on Gwaine's face. "Lucky for me, because I didn't fancy trying to explain to Mithian how I let you get killed. I was more afraid of facing her than I am of tomorrow's battle."
As Merlin returned his friend's grin he became aware of the circle of disbelieving stares being directed at him. Gwaine looked around and put one arm protectively around his friend to steer him toward the royal tent where the others had gathered.
The Amatan archers were unable to prevent Camelot's troops from storming the keep when the battlements erupted in flames, forcing the keep's occupants to abandon their strategic advantage on the walls of the stronghold. Then the gates unbarred themselves, swinging wide to admit Arthur's troops.
Amata's warriors were the fierce fighters they were reputed to be, but lack of a leader left them without a reason to hold the keep at Denaria. The purposelessness of their battle lust was outmatched by the Camelot soldiers fighting to avenge fallen comrades and regain a strategic stronghold for the safety of their own land. The fighting was over in a matter of hours.
King Arthur assigned a garrison to rebuild the keep's defenses, thankful there was minimal damage after its takeover by the Sarrum and recapture by his own troops, not to mention the dragon's assault. The Camelot troop permanently stationed in the fortress would also assist the local people in restocking what the occupying forces had consumed or destroyed. The new commander acknowledged his instructions with a bow and departed.
Alone with his most trusted knights, the king heaved a sigh, ran a hand through his sweaty blond hair, and dropped into a seat in the hall. Leon's right arm was wrapped in bandages but none of the others had sustained serious injuries.
"Sire, do you feel such a strong force is needed here? Surely Amata has no reason to attack again," Leon questioned, unsuccessfully hiding a wince as he rested his heavily-bandaged arm on the tabletop.
"The fortifications are not to defend against any further invasion from Amata, they won't venture from their borders any time soon."
"You believe Rheged may launch another assault?" Percival guessed.
"I believe we should prepare for that eventuality, yes."
Leon looked doubtful. "Urien has few allies left. Alined is in no position for Gwynedd to take up arms again. The other kingdoms have declared their loyalty to Camelot."
"It would please me no end if our recent victories convince Urien to keep peaceably to his own borders, but the man is ambitious. If he can find an advantage to use against us, he'll take it."
Leon's eyes fell on Merlin and an uneasy silence descended that had become common when the two of them were in the same room.
The knight addressed him directly for the first time in months. "The soldiers say you came back from the dead."
"Leon," Arthur began warningly.
"No human being can come back from the dead," Elyan cut in emphatically.
Leon gave Merlin a sympathetic look. "I'm not sure everyone thinks you're human."
"Oh." Merlin replied, trying to suppress the hurt at such a nasty rumour. "I'm not immortal. I wouldn't even want to be."
"Some say you transformed into the dragon. Others think you're the son of the devil and that's where you get your power. Many believe the king is merely your puppet who does your bidding because he's afraid of you, and you should be burned at the stake," Leon continued despite Arthur's menacing expression.
Gwaine moved threateningly closer but Leon ignored him.
"I know none of that is true," the First Knight declared.
Gwaine halted.
"I don't know whether magic is evil but I know you, Merlin, and I know you are definitely not. I'm sorry for doubting that."
"Thank you." Merlin felt like he should say more but he could not find the words.
The silence dragged on for another moment before Gwaine spoke up.
"I hadn't heard the one about transforming into a dragon. That would be a neat trick."
For a moment a grin relieved Merlin's serious expression. "I don't think that's possible."
"Arthur," Leon added quietly. "Soldiers are a superstitious lot. Some say you cannot lose a battle as long as Merlin is with us, others that having a sorcerer with us will bring us doom unless we purge the evil by burning the magic out. You should know there is also talk about your birth and your mother's death being the result of sorcery, and that Merlin was the sorcerer."
Merlin was taken aback. "But I wasn't even born yet."
Arthur gave him a grim look. "That fact is not going to get in the way of gossip linking you with every unexplained occurrence in Camelot going back as far as anyone can remember. Thank you, Leon." The king nodded gratefully at his First Knight. "All of you do what you can do to quell the stories being circulated. We don't want a repeat of the hysteria my father stirred up before the Purge."
They each nodded, then Arthur dismissed them. Merlin began to exit the chamber with the knights but the king called him back.
"Merlin, I'm sorry about what people are saying about you."
Merlin held Arthur's gaze for a moment before he spoke. "In a way it's a blessing none of that will be connected with my child."
"You think you can keep that secret?"
The sorcerer shrugged. "If people don't think I'm human they won't be looking for any evidence to the contrary." Merlin sighed. "I know why the Sarrum hated magic. He feared it, because he and his warriors could train and practice with weapons day in and day out for years on end, build their strength, but magic can be wielded by servants or women or anyone not as strong or as big or as skilful as they are and they would be defenseless. Magic is given as a gift to those the Sarrum thought were undeserving of power; it can be used against strength, against wealth. That's why those without magic fear those who have it, and those with power fear those who have more." Merlin looked Arthur in the eye. "For all your strength and skill I really could take you apart with less than one blow."
His friend regarded him warily. "How much power do you have?"
Merlin smiled. "It's not just power you know, there is skill and learning involved."
"Well, that's reassuring."
Merlin laughed outright at Arthur's wry expression. "Besides, you could get lucky and run me through before I had a chance to strike out."
"Like the Sarrum did when he had you shot," Arthur said.
Merlin sobered.
"For what it's worth, Merlin, I understand how it feels to have people walk on eggshells around you, like they're afraid one wrong word will bring your wrath down on their heads."
Warmth spread through Merlin. "Thank you."
"But if you could keep your head down for the next while it would be helpful."
A wide smile split the sorcerer's face. "Gaius has been telling me that for years without success."
As exhausted as he was when they finally arrived back in Camelot, Merlin returned to the physician's chambers only to assure Gaius of his safe return and quickly wash away the dust of the road. The sorcerer managed to avoid lengthy questioning by his guardian as to why his shirt had a hole and was encrusted with blood, although he knew Gaius would eventually want to examine the wound the dragon had healed.
Mithian's exuberant welcome when he arrived in her chambers temporarily distracted him from what he wanted to speak with her about. By the time their kiss ended, Mithian had discovered the damaged shirt and yanked it up to examine his newest scar.
He caught his breath at the distress in her face about yet another brush with death, but as she looked closer at the scar a puzzled expression came over her. "How can a wound like this be so completely healed in such a short span of time?"
"That's part of what I wanted to speak with you about." Although he had been thinking for days how to tell her what he wanted to say, Merlin was at a loss as to how to broach the subject of dragonlords. He took Mithian's hand and led her to the bed, sitting down and drawing her to sit beside him. "When the Sarrum was holding me prisoner," he began.
Mithian's face went white with shock and Merlin cursed himself for not being more tactful about that situation.
"It's all right now, I'm fine," he said. "I called a friend to help me." He watched her reaction carefully, afraid to see the same wariness Arthur had shown. "A dragon."
Mithian was taken aback. "How is that possible?"
"My father was a dragonlord. When he was killed I inherited his gift for speaking with dragons as kin. I had known Kilgharrah – the Great Dragon and the last of his kind as far as we knew then – since I arrived in Camelot, but after my father's death I became the last dragonlord."
"The dragon's magic is how your wound is fully healed?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm glad he was able to help," Mithian said.
"There is something else I should explain. The dragonlord gift is passed from father to son." Merlin looked meaningfully at her. "If we have a son then on my death he might inherit the same talent, although he won't know whether or not he has the gift until he faces a dragon."
"Oh."
Merlin waited anxiously for what reaction would follow her look of blank surprise.
"Well, I did know I was getting involved with a most extraordinary man."
The intensity of his relief at her calm reaction caused his hands to tremble.
She looked puzzled again. "Why do you look as though you just confessed to something terrible?"
"I was afraid to tell you, afraid you would look at me like I'm a monster."
"Merlin, why would you think that?" Mithian sounded more hurt than upset.
"The knights have been giving me odd looks since they realized I talk to dragons and even Arthur thinks I've been consorting with the enemy." Merlin looked down at his hands. "I know what people are saying about me, the ones who are afraid of me."
"Merlin." Mithian took one of his hands in hers. "You must know I pay no attention to those silly rumours. How could you believe I would think differently of you because you have another special gift?"
He laid his other hand on top of hers and squeezed but he did not look up at her because he was embarrassed to let her see how his eyes were moist. She put her hand under his chin and gently lifted his head until he met her gaze.
"Nothing you could tell me and nothing anyone else has to say is going to change how I feel about you. I'm glad you are back safe."
Mithian wrapped her arms around him and kissed him and Merlin was glad to be alive and home.