I struggled a little with the first half of this chapter, but hopefully it picks up a bit as you go along and I hope you guys like it :)

Chapter Eleven

The Cave

Merlin didn't mention to anyone Morgana's mysterious disappearance the next morning, he somehow knew that if he did everyone would think of an innocent explanation, after all, no one wanted to think that they were travelling with a possible traitor. Freya might believe him, but would Arthur choose her word over Morgana's, when Freya was practically a stranger and Morgana a sister to him? Merlin's concern for Arthur also pushed Morgana's cold blankets to the back of his mind, and to make matters worse Freya was also beginning to worry him.

That day the five companions continued their journey over the rolling fields of Odin's land, the atmosphere lighter but Merlin's heart was heavier. Arthur's skin was now burning even when he was calm, the Prince couldn't feel it himself but when someone touched him they could feel his heat, it was unnatural. Arthur was also suffering from more headaches, though he tried not to show it Merlin could see the pain that was etched on his face sometimes as he pressed a hand against his forehead. Gwen too looked extremely worried when he did this but Arthur assured her he felt fine.

Freya in the meantime was having the opposite problem. She was growing cold. When Merlin clasped her hand it always felt cold, but he knew this was normal, lots of people had cold hands. However she seemed to be growing colder. She never complained, but Merlin was sure that her hand was growing icy whilst entwined with his and at one point, when they stopped to have some food, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face and shocked by how cold her skin felt.

"You're freezing!" He said.

Freya shrugged, "Am I? I don't feel cold."

Merlin looked Freya up and down. Wearing Morgana's thin purple dress wasn't giving her much protection against the cold wind that occasionally blew, and that day the sky had darkened and clouds were threatening rain. He started to take off his jacket, "Wear this," he told her.

But Freya stopped him, "I said I'm fine Merlin, believe me I don't feel cold."

Merlin hesitated. Freya certainly didn't look cold, she wasn't shivering and she had never mentioned it, but she felt cold. And he didn't like it. Most of the time when his mind turned to Freya he was able to smile and think of the happy days they had had together so far and a future they could share. He was desperate to share his true feelings with her, that she was so much more than a friend to him, but now when he thought about her he felt afraid that something was wrong.

At one point during that day Merlin confessed his thoughts to Gwen, who had noticed he was looking worried and wanted to know what was wrong.

"Arthur's too hot and Freya's too cold," Merlin muttered to her so no one else could hear. "This isn't right, Gwen."

Gwen chewed her lip, she knew Merlin was right, but she tried to smile and stay positive. "Maybe if we knock their heads together they'll both become the right temperature."

To Merlin's surprise he was able to smile at these words, he just hoped a real solution was equally as simple.

When evening was drawing in the five companions reached the top of a particularly steep hill, giving them a sweeping view of Odin's land. Beyond were yet more rolling fields and the occasional village, which they had so far avoided, but closer to hand there was a large, dark cluster of trees not far from their hill.

"Where do you think we should go from here?" Arthur asked, gazing out at the horizon.

Freya pointed at the trees, "Do you know that place?" She asked.

Arthur nodded, "We have travelled through there before. It's another forest but perhaps more dangerous than the first. There are lots of valleys and caves where the ground has fallen away, perfect places for bandits to hide and attack travellers. But perhaps also a place for Druids to stay?" He added.

"That's what I was thinking." Freya said, "my people would not live in these open fields. If we are to find them, within those trees is our best hope."

Arthur turned to the others, "What do you think?" He asked.

To Merlin's surprise Morgana agreed with Freya, "If we continue travelling out in the open someone's bound to spot us soon and tell King Odin about us," she pointed out. "And from what I've heard a forest is where we're most likely to find these Druids, so I think we should head there."

Gwen nodded, "I agree."

Merlin shrugged, "All right then, the trees it is." He just hoped there were no bandits or any other unpleasant creatures waiting for them in the rabbit-warren of valleys and tangle of trees they would find in that forest.

The five companions headed towards their new destination until night fell. Merlin hardly slept but Morgana did not disappear again and everyone else slept peacefully. By the afternoon of the next day they had reached the first few trees of the forest. The clouds were darkening the sky once more and this time the rain did come, Merlin felt the first few cold drops bite into his skin as they entered the forest. Everyone was glad for a bit of shelter under the trees as the wind blew and the rain fell. The leaves on the trees rustled with the wind and tapped as they caught the rain, as if creating their own musical instrument of nature. It was the only sound for a while.

Suddenly Arthur stopped and stooped low to the ground, examining something.

"There are footprints," He announced.

Sure enough, Merlin could just about see a trail of footprints leading off into the forest. They couldn't be more than a day old.

"Just one person," Arthur continued, "but there is definitely someone here. It's unlikely for bandits to travel alone," he looked up at Freya and Merlin, "what about people with magic?"

Freya shrugged, "It's possible that this is a Druid. They rarely travel on their own but perhaps one came through this way to look for food and were heading back to their camp?" She suggested.

"Or a person outlawed for having magic trying to find a safe place to hide?" Merlin added.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Said Morgana suddenly, the urgency clear in her voice. "Let's find this person before they disappear into the trees."

Everyone quickly picked up their pace as Arthur lead the way, following the footprints through the trees. Soon they came across many valleys where ancient rivers may have once flowed or the land dipped for a reason that may only be explained in myth. You could feel that this forest was old and it hid many more secrets than mysterious footprints.

At one point the ground descended into a large valley. The rain was still falling and despite the protection of the trees was soon dripping from Freya's hair and trickling down the back of Merlin's neck. No one seemed to notice it though, they were too busy following the footprints, which became clearer and clearer, then suddenly disappeared all together.

Arthur looked up. The valley they stood in was full of small caves and places where the valley forked in several directions, and he had no idea where the footsteps had been heading before they disappeared.

"Let's split up," he suggested. The others nodded.

Morgana walked straight to one of the caves and disappeared inside it, while Gwen and Freya walked to where the valley took a sudden twist, leaving Arthur and Merlin standing alone together.

"I don't see any signs of Druids here," Arthur admitted, though that was obvious to even those who had little experience of tracking. "You're right, whoever's hiding here must be an outlaw of some sort."

"We must be careful Arthur, they could have been outlawed for good reason," Merlin warned. He didn't like this valley, there were far too many hiding places.

"But maybe they will still be willing to help us," Arthur sighed, and his face suddenly seemed heavy with worry and fatigue. "I need all the help I can get."

Merlin didn't say anything. He didn't want to agree with Arthur, but he couldn't think of anything to say that would prove to the Prince he didn't need help. Once again Freya's warning echoed through his ears.

It will consume him.

How much time did they have left before the curse started to consume the future King of Camelot?

Merlin and Arthur started to look in some of the caves in the valley, many of which were too small for a grown man to hide within, but others could be an ideal place for an outlaw or runaway to keep out of sight from soldiers or wandering bandits. However none of them gave any sign of being occupied. There were a few small animal bones scattered round the entrance of one, Merlin swallowed nervously.

Suddenly Morgana appeared out of one of the larger caves and called out to Arthur. She had found something. Merlin and Arthur hurried over to her.

"There's an old woman in here," Morgana said, gesturing towards the entrance of the cave. "She seems friendly enough, she didn't attack me when I found her. I told her we were looking for help and she said for a small price she'll see Arthur and find out if there's anything she can do. She says she has magic."

Merlin hesitated, "What's the price?" He demanded.

"Does it matter Merlin?" Said Arthur, "if she's friendly and offering help that's all that matters!" And before Merlin could say anything else he disappeared inside the cave.

The young Warlock quickly but slightly reluctantly followed Arthur into the cave. Inside it was very dark, the only light came from the entrance and the only sound was the pattering rain from outside. In the dim Merlin could see clothes hanging from the ceiling, which were somehow much more eerie than stalactites. Taking up most of the cave space there was a large, old wooden table that had somehow, probably magically, been dragged into the small cave, it was littered with glass phials and bottles, bird feathers, pieces of broken crystal, an ancient looking book and, on top of the book, a pair of old, wrinkled hands entwined together and belonging to the wizened woman who sat behind the desk, staring at them. Her hair was wispy and grey and she wore black, ragged clothes. Her face was set with deep wrinkles and her eyes were clouded over, Merlin wondered if she was blind, but she looked directly at Arthur as he approached.

"Come closer Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon," she said in a voice that was sharp and clear. Merlin found the voice oddly recognisable, but he couldn't think from where.

"You know my name?" Arthur said cautiously.

"I know many things," the old woman smiled. Merlin stayed hovering behind Arthur, suspicious of the old woman's smile. "The young lady said you needed some help," she continued. Merlin glanced round to see that Morgana had not entered the cave with them, but she was hovering near the entrance, probably trying to shelter herself from the rain.

Arthur nodded, "I am searching for the cure for a curse," he said. "Morgana told me you offered to help for a price."

"Yes, as you can see I do not have much here," the woman said, gesturing at the desk and clothes. "And it is not every day that a Prince come along asking for help from an old witch such as myself. You must understand I have to ask for a price so I can keep living in safety and peace. Food and warm clothes are all I desire, and the chance to talk to a Prince." The woman grinned at Arthur, showing yellowing teeth. Merlin felt a shiver rush down his spine, but he didn't know why. The old woman then turned more serious. "Let me see," she said, stretching out a hand, the nails yellowing and brittle.

Arthur approached and the woman took his hand. She examined his palm closely then gazed into the Prince's eyes. Merlin had no idea what she was looking for but she seemed to find something.

"Have you displayed any symptoms of the curse?" She asked.

Arthur nodded, "I leaned against a tree a couple of days ago and burnt the trunk with my bare hands, I keep on having burning headaches and I can sometimes feel a burning feeling in the tips of my fingers." Merlin was surprised by this last description, Arthur had not mentioned any sensation in his hands to anyone.

"Do you know who gave you the curse or what the curse is?"

Arthur shook his head, "No."

"I can tell you it is a powerful curse you have been given," the witch said, letting go of his hand. "A curse of fiery vengeance. Your skin burns with unseen flames and I can see a glimpse of fire in your eyes also. Only a spark for now, but it will grow."

Arthur was worried by these words. "How bad is the curse? Am I in danger?" He asked.

"My Prince, have you ever heard of a curse that didn't put the victim in some sort of danger?" The old woman pointed out. "And you must know it is bad, otherwise why would you run so far from home?"

"Yes, but...do you mean to say it is going to get worse?"

"Yes. The curse is growing inside you, it is getting stronger." The old woman said, Merlin feared she would say these words, but the witch didn't seem particularly distressed by the news she had to give Arthur, and he still couldn't work out why he recognised her voice.

"Can you help?" Arthur asked, unable to hide the desperation in his voice.

The woman shook her head, her eyes never left Arthur's. "None can help."

"But don't you have some sort of knowledge about this type of curse? We're looking for some Druids, we thought they might be able to help us, do you know any?"

"None can help," the woman repeated.

"What do you mean, none can help?" Arthur demanded, he was beginning to grow angry and starting to panic.

"There is no cure."

"But there must be something!" Arthur cried out, colour draining from his face.

"You have been given a very rare, powerful and deadly curse. There is only one cure for such a curse, and that is death. You will only be free of it when you die, if it doesn't kill you first."

Arthur took a step back, shaking his head, his eyes full of terror. "That's not true. There must be something!"

"I only speak the truth." The old woman said coldly.

"But the Druids-" Arthur began.

"You will travel for miles to find Druids who will only tell you the same. There is no cure."

Merlin was devastated by the old woman's words. Freya had warned him that the curse would consume Arthur, and now it seems that there is no cure for it, yet somehow he knew that this was always a possibility, Arthur could have this curse forever. It took all of Merlin's effort not to fall to his knees. His destiny had failed, he couldn't save Arthur, Albion was lost. He couldn't think of anything to say that could comfort his friend, he could think of nothing to do, he felt like he was falling

However Arthur turned to him, white as a ghost, and began to speak, his voice shaking a little.

"We have to get back to Camelot Merlin, I need...we need to go home. I've run so far, I don't want to waste time going any further if I will only be told the same thing. If there really is no cure, I think I should go back and make amends with my father. I...it...it's the right thing to do." The Prince said, looking as if he had been told he was going to die tomorrow, but Merlin supposed that's what it must feel like.

However even now Merlin felt proud of the Prince. He had been told that the curse he had was only going to get worse and probably kill him. Yet still he remained standing tall, no tears fell, and although his voice shook he spoke with clarity, thinking of what best a dying man should do. It was perhaps the bravest thing anyone could say in such a situation.

But the old woman had other ideas. "You cannot go back to Camelot," she said quickly.

"It seems I have no choice," Arthur snapped.

"If you return to that Kingdom your death will only come quicker," the old woman warned, though neither Arthur or Merlin understood these words.

"Why?" Arthur demanded.

"Camelot has fallen."

Arthur was so shocked by these words he actually stumbled backwards. "What? No, no, you must be mistaken. How has Camelot fallen?"

Merlin could somehow tell the old woman was enjoying herself as she spoke. "Soldiers came in the night. None were prepared, the King was too ill to make a decision to defend his Kingdom, devastated by his son abandoning him and haunted by visions of his own cruelty. The soldiers simply marched through the doors. Camelot fell and the Pendragons no longer sit on the throne."

"This cannot be, you're lying!" Arthur shouted, his voice full of despair.

"I do not lie. As I said, I see many things, and I see soldiers marching towards the castle and a throne ready to receive a new ruler."

"When did this happen?" Arthur demanded.

"Three nights ago."

While Arthur could do little more than stare in horror, Merlin was trying to keep his mind clear and was thinking furiously. Three nights ago, that was the night before he noticed Morgana had disappeared from camp and the day Arthur had burnt the tree trunk. Unknown to him it was also the night that a desperate Knight raced from the walls of defeated Camelot on horseback alone.

Something was clearly wrong here and it wasn't just the woman's words. While her attention was focused on Arthur Merlin came closer. He was positive he had heard this woman's voice before, and as he looked at her closely he thought he recognised her too, even though at the same time he knew he had never seen this old woman before. She had to be some sort of deceptive creature born to spread lies, surely there was no way what she said was true?

Yet the witch's eyes never blinked, and both Arthur and Merlin somehow knew that what she said was true.

"There is nothing for you to return to Arthur Pendragon." She continued, "The Camelot you know is lost and if you go back you will be killed. Stay with your friends, be comforted that there is someone by your side. You have no home and time is fading for you."

"Who is on the throne now?" Arthur asked, his voice sounding strangely distant.

"Someone who will bring magic back to the land and end the many years of tyranny and death," the old woman said, a hint of pride in her voice. "Magic will reign now," as she spoke she noticed how close Merlin was to her now, and she turned to glare at him.

At that moment Merlin knew who it was, and knew they were in great danger. He was close enough to see through the wrinkles, past the cloudy eyes, and he knew where he had heard the voice from.

"Arthur," he began, "we have to leave. Now."

For this was no old woman. It was Morgause.