Chapter 5: Walker
"Ah!" Mordred cringed as his head smacked into the cold stone wall. The mercenary had hauled him into a storage area of some kind, rarely used if the layer of dust was anything to go by. Bran was growling fiercely and baring his teeth at his Master's attacker.
"Get tha' thing under control now or I'll snap your lil' neck!"
Mordred nodded as best he could, still grasping at the hand around his throat. His attacker loosened his grip enough for Mordred to speak.
"Bran. Bi samach," he choked out and the wolf went quiet, but he was still baring his teeth. He was waiting for an opportunity to strike.
"I could finish da job right 'ere," the mercenary threatened, his grip on Mordred's throat starting to tighten again. "Maybe even take a sho' a' King Arfur, get double da money."
"N't y..." Mordred disagreed as much as he could manage without access to oxygen.
"Wot?" Walker leaned in closer to listen, savoring Mordred's pain. This man enjoyed violence even more than he had realised.
"N't yht." The grip around Mordred's throat loosened just enough for him to force out whole words, so he added. "You're meant t' ruin me."
"A'right ya've go' a point," the mercenary allowed, releasing Mordred. Mordred dropped to the floor gasping. Walker watched him unmoved, "You said ya'd ge' me out've 'ere. Can ya?"
Mordred looked up at him once he'd finished coughing. "If I do, will you kill me?"
Walker knelt down to his level, locking eyes with the teen. "No' if you're worth it."
"I guess that will have to suffice," Mordred muttered, allowing the man to pull him upright. "Anything else that I should know about you?"
"Call me Walker," the mercenary said, casually crossing his arms as he surveyed his unwitting ally. "You know they neva told me ya name."
"Nor will I," Mordred replied with a tight smile, "Walker."
Walker smirked in approval. "Suit ya'self, Lad."
Arthur sat in his bath, frowning at the water's surface and making a sodden mess of his bandages while Merlin bustled about in the background. The courtyard was swarming with guards, but they had agreed to ignore it. This wasn't any of their business.
"Looks like Percy's lending a hand," Merlin observed, peering out the window. Perhaps they weren't in agreement after all. "I would have thought that he'd be exhausted by now."
"Why are you telling me this, Merlin?"
Merlin flashed him a knowing look over his shoulder. "Because you wanted to know."
"I don't recall asking you to spy on people," Arthur countered.
"You didn't have to. You're wondering if this has to do with the 'inspection'," Merlin replied. Arthur backed down a bit, wordlessly conceding his manservant's point.
"It does, I just don't know why," Arthur confided. "Queen Annis warned me of a rival lord preparing to make a grab for more power. She thinks that he may have Camelot in his sights." The King tossed the wet rag to his servant. "Come here and get my back."
"Ugh," Merlin caught the rag before it hit him in the mouth. It splattered him with bathwater anyway. "Yes, Sire." He managed to make the word 'Sire' sound synonymous with the word 'jackass', before complying.
"In a strange way it's almost a relief," Arthur confided. "A part of me has just been waiting for the next challenger to make himself known so that we can get it over with."
"I assume you're counting Morgana as the first," Merlin verified, making quick work of his task and dropping the rag into the basin with a splash.
"I know that my life has been threatened in the past, but until recently she was the only one who threatened my rule. That's bound to change soon," Arthur reflected, pulling away from him.
Merlin grabbed a cloth for the King to dry himself off with. "They won't succeed, Arthur."
"You say that as if you know it for a fact." Arthur stopped Merlin before he could make another grand declaration about Arthur's continued rule. "Regardless of your faith in me. I would hardly be a good ruler if I didn't put the safety of my Kingdom first. We must return to Camelot as quickly as possible, so that I can prepare to face the challenge."
"You already have a plan, don't you?"
"Long term? I have been considering it seriously for a year now. As to more immediate concerns... It will depend on this lord."
"We're wastin' time. There a' guards lookin' for me in every corner of dis town by now, and ya wanna mess about in disguises," Walker grumbled, readjusting the hood of his stolen cloak as he and Mordred edged around a cart to avoid the two knights conversing with a civilian on the other side.
"We are not messing about. We are avoiding notice," Mordred corrected. The nearby knights were there to back up the two guards at the gate; they couldn't just make a run for it. It was difficult for Mordred to understand why Walker couldn't get that.
"You're naive'ee is gonna lose us our 'eads," Walker berated, pushing past to head for the nearest alcove. Mordred crouched down, tangling his fingers in the fur on Bran's scruff while he watched. Walker stepped back out of the darkness with his hood pulled forward to shadow his face. "Oi! You there!"
The knights turned to look at him. Mordred recognised the man they had been speaking with as Sir Percival. His grip on Bran tightened subconsciously. He didn't want to be responsible for any bloodshed, especially from one of Arthur's men.
"Dat's righ'. I go' a proposal for ya!" Walker continued, strutting forward as if he were the king himself.
"Sod off, Peasant," the younger and rougher of the two local knights dismissed. Sir Percival held up a hand to stop him.
"Lower your hood, and we'll hear you out," the roundtable member requested.
"I ain't lookin' for no trouble," Walker replied with the slightest upward quirk twitching one corner of his mouth, as he took a few more steps towards the knights. Mordred narrowed his eyes. That double-negative had been entirely intentional, and Walker was now within striking distance of Sir Percival as well as the older Caerleon knight. Luckily, the two gate guards had a healthy amount of suspicion and had stepped closer as well, each resting a hand on the hilt of their sword.
"There's a dangerous criminal on the loose," the elder knight clarified. Mordred was slowly unwinding his fingers from Bran's fur. His wolf was already coiled ready to spring having felt his master's agitation. "He's already murdered two people," the knight continued.
"You don't say," Walker replied. Mordred checked for his knife and found that it was missing as the knight pushed Walker's hood back to identify him. He swore silently, kicking himself for not noticing the ploy.
"Let's make it three!" Walker stabbed the knight in the side under the seam of his armor, then elbowed Percival in the face; while his other hand grabbed his first victim's sword, he spun to slit the closest guard's throat.
"No!" Mordred shouted, releasing Bran just as the merc moved to stab Sir Percival. "Gabh air." Mordred directed angrily, and his wolf brought the mercenary down before he could do Percival any lasting harm. Mordred made a run for the nearest servants' passage while everyone was distracted. Walker tried to push Bran away, and when that didn't work, grabbed the fallen sword. Sir Percival knocked him out with a swift punch. Mordred put his fingers to his lips and whistled once.
"Hey! Come back here!" One of the guards protested as Bran darted inside after his master, vanishing from sight.
"Wait! Mordred!" Percival shouted, hurrying after them.
"You know that urchin?!" The other knight asked in disbelief.
"Yeah. I'll sort this. You should see to your friend," Percival responded distractedly, ducking into the low doorway. He looked down either end of the drab stone hallway, shutting the door behind him. "Mordred?" Percival caught sight of dark fabric whispering around the corner on the far right and followed after it. "Listen, I just want to talk to you."
Mordred was walking at a swift pace towards the far stairway. Percival darted forward and caught his sleeve. Mordred's other arm reflexively rose to punch him but the knight easily caught it, regarding him with mild disappointment.
"Sorry, Milord. I mean you no harm," Mordred said, clearing his throat uncomfortably when the other man didn't release his grip on Mordred's wrist. "May I have my arm back, please?"
"Are you going to tell me why you were with the escaped prisoner, or are you going to run again?"
Mordred paused for a moment to consider his options. Apparently, it was a bit too long.
"Mordred, this looks bad. If you are innocent you'd better tell me everything now, or I won't be able to help you," Percival persisted. He really did like the boy, and he was having trouble imagining him conspiring with a murderer like Walker.
Mordred closed his eyes and reopened them, focused on lying as little as he could manage without endangering himself or Arthur. "You remember what I told you when Merlin and I were sitting with you at the campfire, about the people who wanted me dead?"
Sir Percival nodded, his forehead crinkling in concern as he released his grip on Mordred's arm.
"That man works for one of them. He was here to carry out some other task for his Lord, targeting your King but he recognized me..." Mordred fiddled with his scarf, choosing his words carefully. "He said that if I could get him out of Caerleon he would abandon his aggression against the King. Now that I have crossed him, he is going to destroy me."
"And how's he going to do that?" Percival questioned, releasing his grip.
"I don't know, but I did help a murderer to attempt escape," Mordred pointed out. "Now he has killed again. I need to leave town and you should too. I think that the thefts were just a ploy Walker used to place himself in the castle. He has been waiting there for King Arthur to return."
"You know that sounds a bit..." Percival trailed off, not wanting to risk upsetting Mordred even further.
"When he found out that King Arthur was here, he remarked that he had arrived early," Mordred stated. Percival studied his eyes seriously.
"You'd better be telling me the truth."
"I am." Mordred stared determinedly back. Technically.
"All right. Come with me." Percival led him back out of the passage with a hand resting heavily on his shoulder.
Walker smiled ferally at Mordred when they met back up with Annis' men in the courtyard.
"Ignore him," Sir Percival quietly advised. "He won't be able to do anything once he's back in the dungeon."
Arthur was awakened by a knock on his door. He looked up to see Merlin talking with one of Annis' guards.
"Is he hurt?" Merlin asked.
"Not that I saw," the Guard replied, seeming annoyed about being questioned by a servant. "The Queen requests your King's attendence at his first convenience."
"I'll let him know when he wakes," Merlin assured him, and the guard left with a curt nod. The physician in training seemed too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice that his King was in fact awake.
"What was that about?" Arthur inquired, propping himself up on his elbows as Merlin closed the door behind the Queen's messenger and turned to face him.
"Percival brought in the escaped prisoner's hostage. Queen Annis wants you to join her when she questions him," Merlin relayed. "I'm not sure why."
"Let's find out," Arthur decided, getting out of bed. Merlin rolled his eyes and fetched the clothes one of the palace servants had delivered for the King's use, while he was resting. Merlin, as usual, had gotten no such opportunity and was exhausted. It would've been nice to have at least one teeny nap before they dealt with Caerleon's criminal underbelly.
Arthur followed Sir Allan into Queen Annis' council chambers with Merlin trudging unenthusiastically behind him.
"King Arthur, your Majesty," Sir Allan announced with a shallow bow before retreating to stand at the door.
"Thank you, Sir Allan," Queen Annis acknowledged from her place at the far end of the table. She gestured to the seat at her right, opposite Sir Percival. Arthur stopped short when he passed the darkly clad figure sitting on the near end of the table with his face in his hands.
"Mordred."
"You know this boy?" Annis inquired, curious.
"We all do, your Majesty," Sir Percival admitted.
"He saved my life when we were captured by slavers, and again in Morgana's mines," Arthur explained. "Why..."
"He claims to have been coerced by our escaped thief and murderer into aiding his way out of Caerleon," Queen Annis replied. "A strange coincidence, is it not?"
"With all due respect, your Majesty, Mordred only arrived here with us this evening. How could he possibly be in league with Walker?" Percival defended.
"He did escape, somehow," Queen Annis pointed out, "shortly after you arrived here."
"The guards, did they catch a glimpse of his accomplice?" Arthur inquired, taking the seat offered him.
"No," Annis conceded. "They are certain that he was alone, yet they cannot explain how that is possible."
"Mordred?" Percival prompted.
"I can't explain that," Mordred replied weakly, drawing an amused snort from Merlin.
The others shot him a look.
"...Sorry."
"No, Mordred, I meant what happened in your own words?" Percival elaborated.
"Oh, of course," Mordred rubbed at his eyes before drawing himself up straighter in his seat and explaining. "It is as I told you before. A few years ago, some Lord wanted to acquire me for use in a scheme of his. He said that I had skills that he could make use of and offered to pay handsomely. I only saw him the once when he made his offer. I don't know his name, but what I do know about him is that he doesn't take refusal well. He sent his messenger to kill me with the ultimatum that if he couldn't use me for his ends, no one would have me. Ragnor slit the messenger's throat before he could follow through, but he wasn't the only one to come after me."
"Walker threatened the same," Arthur inferred.
"He told me that he would allow me to live this time if I proved myself useful to him. I agreed to get him safely to the border if he shed no more blood." Mordred huffed out a breath of a laugh at the dark humour. "It seems that neither of us kept to that very well."
"I'm glad that you didn't," Percival offered in reassurance.
Mordred gave him a little grateful smile before continuing, "He was instructed to wait here for King Arthur's return. I don't know why."
Arthur looked past Mordred to lock eyes with his manservant. "It doesn't matter now. We leave for Camelot at dawn. Whatever Walker's planning, he isn't likely to manage much before then."
"That animal you had with you..." Queen Annis considered aloud, eying Mordred's weary face.
His gaze snapped up to lock with hers. "Bran? I'd like to see him."
"You are in no position to make demands, Boy. I still have yet to decide what is to be done with you," Queen Annis chastened.
"Forgive me, your Majesty," Mordred apologised, looking worried. It was uncertain for those who knew him whether he was more worried about his own freedom, or his pet's.
"Where did you acquire...Bran?"
"I found him when he was a pup. Hunters had killed his mother, so I kept him."
Annis gave him a challenging look. "Do you think me a fool? I doubt that the Witch would allow one of her slaves to keep a pet, let alone one as formidable as yours."
"No," Mordred confessed. "When I was a child, before I was captured by the slavers, she used to visit us. She knew Bran. After I was captured she took him and kept him in the hutch with her own wolves. When I met her again she said that she'd been searching for me... I can't tell you why. At the time I was foolish enough to think that she had done so out of sentiment."
"And now?" Arthur questioned, wondering at his sister's reasoning himself.
"She used him to lure me into the hutch and lock me in. I'm not convinced that I can understand her reasoning anymore," Mordred replied, failing to hide completely just how upset he still was about that. He wasn't one to trust easily; when those he did let past his defenses proved unreliable it was hard to recover.
"How did you escape?"
"She made certain that all the more traditional means of exit were sealed off, but she didn't know that I could climb out through the chimney," Mordred admitted. "There was an owl's nest in the top. It was horrible."
Arthur hid an amused smile while his Knight fell into a suspicious coughing fit.
Mordred watched this stoically, then looked to the Queen.
"If you wouldn't mind, King Arthur, I would like to have a moment to speak privately with young Mordred," she requested politely, keeping her eyes on the wary teen.
"Of course, your Majesty," Arthur agreed, getting up and leading Merlin out. Sir Percival took a little longer, giving Mordred a pat on the back as he passed to show his support.
Queen Annis waited until the door had shut behind them to say "Well, now that they are gone do you think you can bear to let me in on your big secret?"
"I have not lied to you, your Majesty," Mordred affirmed.
"Perhaps not. Maybe you have twisted the truth a tad - that is no concern of mine - but there is something that you are not willing to mention in front of King Arthur and his knight, even if they are friends to you," Annis observed. "I know that look in your eye, I saw it on my husband a few times before his death. There is a weight on your soul. It will only become heavier the longer you hold it inside."
Mordred struggled with himself internally. Telling Queen Annis what truly haunted him was most likely a very bad idea, but at the same time, she was right: he needed help.
"King Arthur wishes for me to return to Camelot and become one of his subjects, but I cannot. I am too dangerous."
Queen Annis' eyebrows arched. "Oh?"
"Just before my fifteenth birthday, I met a Druid Clairvoyant. He was badly injured, about to be killed, but he spoke into my mind to warn me. I was born with too much power, I could be a danger to King Arthur if I do not find a way to change my fate," Mordred confessed. "That is my curse. If I must spend the rest of my days locked in your dungeon in order to avoid becoming that monster, I would gladly plead guilty to any crime that you see fit to charge me with. I aided a known criminal, I befriended the Witch of the North, I broke into-"
"Young man," Queen Annis laughingly interjected, holding up a hand to stop the oncoming flood of confessions. "Enough. I do not believe that you are a monster."
Mordred sat back in his chair and huffed. I should have realised that she would think me mad.
"All of this because of the words of one dying Druid..." Annis reflected. Mordred scowled at her and she chuckled again. "No disrespect to the dead. However, you do know that a Clairvoyant is not a Seer? He cannot see a glimpse of what's to come."
"Yes. I know, but he was not lying," Mordred said, not expecting much from the rest of this exchange.
"An honest man can still deceive as one man rarely knows the full truth," Queen Annis replied. "Tell me Mordred, do you remember what the man actually said to you?"
"You think I could forget? That prophecy haunts my every turn."
"The words. Let us assume for now that this man had been told your prophecy by a true Seer. Do you remember the exact words that he used?" Queen Annis persisted. Mordred frowned at her, suddenly uncertain of himself. She continued anyway, not leaving much opening for him to answer. "Can you be sure they were the same words used by the Seer who made the prediction? Do you think that he saw the events as she pictured them? If you were to see a glimpse of the confrontation you and King Arthur had with the Witch before hand, would you truly understand what was happening?"
Mordred stared down at his hands trying to process this new, more transient take on something that he had always considered so solid and unwavering.
"I will have my guards escort you to your quarters, where they will assure you remain until the morning. If tomorrow you find that you have some true crimes you wish to confess to me, I will listen."
Merlin stepped quietly down the torchlit hallway after Sir Percival. He wasn't actively sneaking this time, in truth, but his worn, soft-soled boots made his footfalls quiet enough to seem so. This time the warlock was merely curious to see where his friend was headed, other than his chambers, now that they had the chance to rest.
Percival stopped at the outer door. "Who's there?"
Merlin sauntered awkwardly into view. "It's just me," he replied with a little halfhearted wave.
Percival looked skeptical about this.
"I wasn't following you. Well. I was following you, but not to spy on you. I-" Merlin stopped his rambling, well aware that the lack of proper sleep was affecting his mental processes, and he asked, "What are you up to?"
Luckily, Percival looked more amused by his verbal floundering, than suspicious. "They're keeping the wolf in the Royal Stables. I just wanted to make sure it got fed before I went to bed."
It was Merlin's turn to be skeptical, but rather than question the Knight's changing attitude, he asked, "Mind if I join you?"
"Sure," Percival replied, resuming his walk towards the stables at a more casual pace. "There was a moment when that wretch could've stabbed me. I was unarmed, off balance. He had me, dead to rights. I heard a shout and the next moment, the wolf had him pinned. Mordred and that beast of his very well might've saved my life."
"You would have fought him off," Merlin disagreed. Maybe he was just trying to reassure himself. Mordred was no hero afterall. He was a rogue, an unpredictable clairvoyant who might very well murder Arthur someday.
"You didn't see him, Merlin. Walker is quick. He fights to kill," Percival disagreed. "I wouldn't be surprised if that was his real purpose here."
"To kill Arthur?" Merlin questioned. That did have a nasty sense of logic to it, in more ways than Sir Percival could possibly realize. "Ragnor didn't seem particularly loyal to anyone. He hated Arthur."
"What?" Percival turned to him as they entered the stables.
"I mean, if this Lord wanted Mordred for the same plot..." Merlin considered aloud.
"Mordred, as an assassin," Percival said as if the thought were absurd.
"You don't know him like I do," Merlin pointed out.
"He's no killer." Percival walked over to the stall where they were keeping Bran. "Hey, Boy," he greeted kindly, and the wolf trotted closer with a faint clinking of his chains. "Look. He remembers me!"
"I see," Merlin said, eyeing the wolf speculatively. He seemed exceptionally shrewd for a wild animal, even one which had been tamed to some extent. There was a stable boy cleaning out the next stall and he leaned out to address them.
"Anything I can do for you, Sir Knight?"
Percival stepped away to speak with him about Bran's care while Merlin knelt down to face the animal on its own level.
"You're very clever, aren't you Bran?"
The wolf let out a huff, as if to confirm this. Merlin remembered what Mordred had told him back in Morgana's keep and very slowly reached up to touch his fur. Bran tilted his head a little to guide Merlin's reaching hand behind his ear but otherwise disregarded the contact.
"You know me." Merlin's eyes widened as the epiphany struck. "You trust me, because Mordred does."
The wolf let out a happy little sound to encourage more scratching behind his ears. Suddenly, Merlin felt guilty; if his interpretation was accurate, this wolf had been bound to Mordred since childhood. Bran was Mordred's familiar, and judging by the almost affectionate behavior from the naturally fearsome hunter...
"I mean a lot to him, don't I?" Merlin looked questioningly at the Druid's familiar, watching Bran lean into his touch. He was acting as though they were old friends. I almost killed Mordred once... the warlock recalled. I left him to be killed. Why would he forgive me?
"I'm not supposed to trust Mordred," he reminded himself, but the mantra didn't settle his conscience anymore than it had down in the mines. Emrys confided to the wolf, "I'm not supposed to like him, either, but I can't seem to help it. At least when he was a child he was odd. He had that look, and that quiet power, that spooky way that he crept around staring at you without making a sound unless... and now he's all patient, and nice, and he-Well, you know him." Merlin sighed, only feeling more frustrated about his whole Mordred problem the more that he talked.
Bran looked up at him, clearly wanting to know why the petting had stopped.
"Percy's right, isn't he?" Merlin speculated, not expecting any sort of answer. "Mordred's not a killer. At least not yet."
Bran stiffened and let out a low growl in warning. Merlin looked down at the familiar just as the sound of someone stepping up behind him rustled through his awareness.
"'E won't 'ave the time," a gruff voice sneered.
Merlin whipped his head around to look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of bloodstained clothes and muddy boots before a hand clamped down over his mouth, smothering him into unconsciousness. The warning bell began to ring.
A/N: I know, a cliffhanger, which I probably do a lot in my stories. I'm sorry.I'm not sorry. Anyway we've already almost reached the end of this episode and I've noticed that Merlin probably deserves more attention. Apparently, that means a cliffie involving assault and/or kidnapping. Basically, I'm an asshole, but hey, at least I'm upfront about it. Anyway(didn't I just say that?) I still want to thank you all for reading, and give special thanks to AganaoftheNight for the support and review, and catherine10 and the latest unnamed guest for their reviews. I actually use music alot as inspiration, to set the tone of a sequence, or as a way of remembering certain moments more vividly later, and I'm thinking I'll start posting a tracklist for this soon as a little experiment, and fun addition(if anyone cares). I guess it's almost like a soundtrack? I dunno. As always, feedback is welcomed and encouraged, maybe let me know what you think about my weird idea, or not.
... and before I forget, I should answer the question that I have no way of responding to directly(awkward) Homeric Greek is indeed what Merlin speaks in the show when he is 'speaking Dragon'. It is a form of Archaic Greek that was used in Homeric Hymns and Literature like the original version of the Iliad for instance. It's probably about as indiscipherable to a native Modern Greek speaker as Saxon English is to a modern Englishman. On a related note, language is crazy.