A/N: So as promised, a longer chapter! This story is pretty much written, so I'll be able to update fairly regularly. My thanks to the people who have Alerted and heather03nmg for her review - hopefully the story won't disappoint!

Also, just a warning: whump ahead!

Chapter 2

The village of Grey Marsh was about two and a half to three days ride from Camelot. Small and compact, with only about twenty-five inhabitants all told, it lay in the mouth of a valley to the north of the kingdom, and was good land for growing wheat. Shivering and cold the small troop of five men broke free of the tree-line and looked down the sweeping hill to the small bumps in the snow that indicated the village buildings. There was no movement, no smoke and the pristine whiteness of the snow remained undisturbed where it fell.

An uncomfortable crawling sensation worked its way up Merlin's spine as he looked at Grey Marsh. There was something terribly unnatural about the absolute stillness of the place. Looking at his companions he was unsurprised to that none of them seemed to be bothered by the same feeling. Knights. Even the clever ones were as dense as planks of wood.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said to Gwaine, "it doesn't look like anyone's home."

"I'm not sure I really care what your opinion is," responded Oswald, before Gwaine had a chance to reply. Not for the first time, Merlin decided he really did not like Sir Oswald. He was an arrogant, pompous arse and for some reason had taken offence to Merlin's very existence, which of course, just made the warlock try harder to annoy him.

"Arthur, we can see there's no one down there," Merlin said, turning to his friend, knowing it would irritate Oswald that he had used the king's name, "why don't we just turn back?" A quick glance at the offending knight, revealed a thunderous expression and more colour in his cheeks than there had been since they left the safety and warmth of Camelot.

"I want to find out what's happened to them." Arthur replied, oblivious to the mischief of his servant or the anger of his knight. "Anyway, it'll be dark soon. We might as well take what shelter we can there and make for Camelot at first light." His mind made up, the king kicked his heels back and started easing his horse down the hill.

Gwaine, Oswald and Marcus followed close behind, leaving the young servant looking down at the settlement apprehensively. He really did not want to go down there but could not and would not abandon his friends. So reluctantly he reined his horse's head about and followed the four knights. The crawling sensation got more intense the closer he rode, so that by the time they reached the very outskirts of the village his stomach was rolling violently and his head was throbbing furiously. Quickly he reined his horse in and dismounted, staring at the seemingly innocent buildings and trying to work out what exactly was making this place so wrong.

"Stop being a girl, Merlin." Arthur called as he rode ahead, the smirk on his face evident in his voice. "We won't let anything get you."

"I might," growled Oswald as he reached down and grabbed the servant by the scruff of the neck and dragged him towards the town, unconcerned by the hands desperately trying to pry his grip open.

With a final rough shove, Merlin went sprawling over the village boundary and landed face first in the cold snow. Spitting out snow he looked about nervously, both relieved and disturbed to realise that having passed over the village boundary, the unpleasant sick feeling and headache were gone. He doubted it was a good sign.

Gwaine jumped down next to him and pulled him to his feet, brushing snow from his shoulders. "You all right, Merlin?"

Scrubbing snow from his face, Merlin nodded. "My face is cold."

"Well, I can't say as I'm surprised there." The dark haired knight walked over to Arthur and engaged in a quick conversation which to Merlin's dismay involved pointing at him several times and evaluating glances from both knight and king.

"Oswald, Marcus, make a quick sweep of the closest hut. I want somewhere we can shelter for the night," ordered Arthur, pointing to the hut he wanted inspected. "After that we'll all take a look at the rest of the village, see if there's anyone alive here."

Both knights quickly moved to obey their king and headed in the direction of the hut. As he passed by, Arthur grabbed Oswald's arm and said something quietly into his ear. Merlin was too far away to hear what was said but Gwaine grinned and nodded happily at whatever was said, Oswald pulled his arm free, fury etched on his features and stalked off after Marcus. Moments later both knights re-appeared and confirmed the house to be empty and safe.

"Get a fire started, Merlin." Arthur ordered. "I want the horses bedded down and some food ready. Oswald, the horses are your job."

Thankfully, Merlin's face was starting to go numb so the grin threatening to make its way onto his face never materialised but judging by the look Oswald shot him, it really didn't make any difference. Mentally shrugging, Merlin headed towards the hut, glad he would have the opportunity not only to get out the cold but also get a fire going, even if he wasn't overly happy at the thought of being left by himself. His face really was very numb now and Gaius' warnings about frostbite still rung in his ears. Arthur followed him inside and made a big show of investigating various items on the table.

"Weren't you the one who warned us all about the dangers of getting our skin wet?" he asked nonchalantly. "Whilst I would usually be wary of telling anyone to follow your advice, maybe you should be a little more careful."

Merlin piled some thankfully dry wood in the fireplace and pulled out his flint. Sharp words regarding Oswald desperately tried to escape him but he clamped down on the urge to insult the hulking oaf and focused on trying to get the kindling to light.

"Oh and Merlin?" the king said as he opened to the door to leave, "Don't go back outside until you're warm." Quickly, Arthur stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him.

A few quiet words later there was a hot, roaring fire going in the small hut and a grinning servant warming his hands.

Darkness fell quickly and after only about five minutes Oswald returned, shivering and stamping his feet, he made his way over to the fire and none to gently toed Merlin from his place by the fire and sat down, holding his hands up to to warm them. Shoving down the frustration that rose within him, Merlin moved as far away as he could and set about making dinner, thoughts of various magical forms of revenge running though his head. Toads were always amusing.

The rest of the knights came back in a few moments later, Arthur and Marcus making a beeline for the fire while Gwaine came over to Merlin and inspected the soup he was preparing.

"Looks good, mate," Gwaine said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "I'm starving."

"It shouldn't take long once I get it on the fire." Merlin assured him. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothing. Not a squeak."

"Don't you think that's a bit strange?"

"Well, you know me," shrugged Gwaine, "best not to dwell." He chuckled and went to join his fellows by the fire.

Later, after everyone had eaten and warmed up, Arthur took first watch and ordered everyone else to get some rest. Warm and full, Merlin was able to put the oddness of Grey Marsh out of his mind and drop off to sleep, although he woke when Arthur nudged Oswald to take second watch and again sometime later when the burly knight opened the door and went outside.

Over the years he had developed a healthy suspicion of people sneaking around and got up, wrapping his borrowed cloak around him and following the errant knight. The cold wind slammed into him the moment his stepped out of the warm comfort of the house and it nearly took his breath away. Not even the thick fur of his cloak diminished the icy blast and snow whipped about his face, stinging his skin. A snowstorm had developed overnight and he and Oswald had blundered right into it. The sensible thing to do would turn around and head back to the safety of the fire, wake Arthur, tell him what had happened and go looking for the knight tomorrow when the storm died down and they could see their hands in front of their faces. Except Merlin had never been an overly sensible person and he really wanted to know what Oswald was doing.

Setting off towards the centre of the village, he tried to look for any tracks in the snow but not only was the visibility terrible but the wind and falling snow filled in any indentations, even his own tracks were already gone. Pressing on he finally came to another hut, again there was no evidence of Oswald, or anyone for that matter, but by now his face and ears were burning from the ice and he was shivering badly. The hut was more inviting than standing out in the snow so he opened the door and peered into the inky blackness, blinking several times to remove the snow from his eyelashes.

"Leoht," he muttered, holding out his hand. Light infused the house, revealing it to be empty but with a healthy stock of fire wood by the dark fireplace. Merlin went in and closed the door behind him. It was very strange that in the middle of such a harsh winter that were was so much good wood left unburned. By now most households had exhausted their supply but here in Grey Marsh it was like the populace had never really been affected by the weather but clearly winter had come to the hamlet just as badly as it had the rest of the kingdom.

A scraping on the door made him jump and back into the room, one hand still holding his light and the other ready to defend himself if necessary. The door swung open and a dark figure stood unmoving in the doorway. A cold malevolence rolled off it in waves and the sick crawling sensation that had gripped him on his way to the village was back with a vengance. The figure seemed to ponder the warlock for a few moments then held out an open hand, palm up before it suddenly curled its hand into a fist and the light he was holding was extinguished. Panic flooded through the warlock as he desperately tried to call the light back but where his magic should have been there was nothing, just an unnatural emptiness.

The figure loomed over him and even in the darkness, Merlin could see its baleful eyes, full of malicious intent. "Hmm, fresh meat," it whispered in his ear, running a finger down his cheek. "Maybe I should have a little taste?" it chuckled. Long sharp talons slid from its fingers and shredded through the thick cloak, the three shirts Merlin wore and the flesh of his right shoulder. Crying out in pain, he swung his left fist at the creature's head, it was surprisingly good punch and caught the thing hard on the jaw.

"A fighter, hmm?" it laughed, "Most amusing. Do not worry, little one, I wish to sample the other morsels before killing you." Suddenly it grasped his arm and head in a vice-like grip, its talons digging into his flesh painfully, and sunk its teeth into his exposed shoulder. White-hot agony poured through Merlin's system and he howled in pain. Even as he struggled to free himself from his tormentor's grip, there was a terrible ripping sound and creature lifted its head, warm blood dripping from its maw. It released him with an approving growl and his legs gave out with the pain.

As suddenly as it came, the creature disappeared and Merlin felt his magic flood through him once more, instinctively pushing the pain back to a more manageable level. He dragged himself across the room, shivering with cold and fear, and lit the fire with a glance before the darkness pushing at his vision overwhelmed him and unconsciousness swept him away.