Title: More Than It Seems
Author: Minch
Summary: Merlin, Arthur, and the knights are captured. However, their abductor is not interested in the King of Camelot or even Emrys. He only wants the stranger imprisoned with them. What is that stranger's secret, and what does their abductor so desperately want from him?
Rating: T, because I am not going to be nice to these guys in this fic.
Spoilers: Occurs in between Series Four and Series Five.
Disclaimer: I hold absolutely no claim to ownership of Merlin. It belongs to BBC and Shine, Ltd. I'm just someone with a boundless imagination who happens to love the show.
Author's note: I'm borrowing jargon from Tamora Pierce's books. (Don't judge; they're good books.) I'll put a list of the spells I used at the beginning of the last chapter.
Replies to anonymous reviews:
Guest- Yes, Merlin's magic is exceptionally powerful, but I would not preclude the possibility that there is some magic stronger than his.
wolfchild- Glad you like it!
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Chapter Four: Answers
The door opened to admit a sallow-faced woman with silver streaks in her dark hair–Rowena. In the flickering light of the torch in the corridor outside, Merlin saw that she wore a long robe with full sleeves. "Unclyse," she incanted. The chains that bound him and Alder to the wall came undone, although their ankles were still shackled together. "Standan in fot." Merlin stood, even though his mind had not told his body to do so. He and Alder floated slightly above the ground.
She walked up to Alder and laid a hand on the arm that was bound to his chest. "Purhhaele ban se." Merlin heard a familiar sound–the sound of bone snapping.
Alder gasped and went white as a sheet. "What was that for?" He held the bound limb with his free hand.
"I healed the break," Rowena answered. She untied the binding from his arm. Gingerly, Alder tested his arm. His face betrayed surprise when he discovered that he could move his arm without pain.
"How'd I e'en break my arm in the first place?"
"You fell out of the tree when my lord captured you. A marvel you didn't break your neck," Rowena explained indifferently. She turned and walked down the hall. Merlin and Alder were pulled along after her like captive ghosts. Merlin discovered that he could still do what he liked with his head. He took advantage of this small freedom and looked back at Alder. The astonishment was gone, and there was now fear in the boy's emerald eyes.
They passed two doors on the right and one on the left. Merlin caught fleeting glances at those inside. Arthur, Gwaine, and Leon languished in the first cell they passed, Elyan and Percival in the next. The left-side door led to a room where half a dozen men in dark uniforms sat around a table. All of them were laughing drunkenly at something.
The sorceress drew them to a spiral staircase. Up they went, never actually touching the floor. She passed one corridor by and took them a few paces down the next to a solid door inlaid with decorative metal. She knocked on the wooden portion of the door. "Lord Renault?" she called. "I have brought the final two prisoners."
"Bring them in," someone answered. The metal in the door briefly glowed. Rowena opened the door and compelled Merlin and Alder to follow her.
Like Gaius's workroom, shelves and cupboards lined much of the walls of Renault's room. The shelves themselves were laden with an assortment of books and jars holding things Merlin did not recognise. A desk, neatly organised, sat in the middle of the room. Among the papers, quills, ink bottles, and other knick-knacks on the desk stood a large bowl, black as ebony. Sitting at the desk with his back to them was a man with neatly combed greying hair.
"Sittan," Rowena ordered. The two of them dropped unceremoniously into rough chairs, still unable to voluntarily move. Chains on the legs of the chairs sprang to life and wrapped themselves around the prisoners' legs and arms. "Will there be anything else, my lord?"
"No. Wait outside to take them back. Dismissed," Renault said. At the sound of his cold voice, Merlin's heart was gripped by an icy hand of fear. The sorceress left, closing the door behind her. Metal completely covered this side of the door–metal that glowed like embers. Before Merlin could say anything, Renault said, "Átemian." He felt his tongue twist back on itself, rendering him mute. "Welcome to my humble abode," Renault told his captives, standing and turning to face them.
If Merlin had been standing, the man before him would have only come up to his shoulder. His face was as pale as milk. In contrast with his pasty skin, his coal-black eyes smouldered like dark fire. He wore a fine cambric shirt under a quilted tunic. His trousers were crafted from good leather.
"A word of warning to the both of you: don't try to break the chains. I know you," he glanced at Merlin, "have attempted it twice. Please, don't try again. There's a spell on them that reflects the magic back on you. You could kill yourself if you push it. Now, I know you have questions," Renault continued amicably, "and I will answer only one from each of you, so choose wisely. Why not start with you?" He pointed at Alder, his eyes momentarily glowing gold. "You look like you have much to say."
The fear in Alder's eyes had been replaced by a fierce, almost defiant, glare. He gagged a bit before asking, "If yeh could ever so kindly tell me, what business have yeh kidnappin' me?"
Renault threw back his head and laughed maniacally. "What a question!" he crowed. "They all ask some variation of that, but none so audaciously as you. 'Who are you,' they always ask. 'What do you want? Where am I?' Well, to answer you, Master…"
"Fletcher," Alder supplied.
"To answer you, Master Fletcher, you have something I want. And you will not leave this place until I get it. Do you know what I speak of?"
"What do I got to interest yeh?" Alder queried in return. He watched Renault with caution now.
Nothing prepared the two prisoners for what Renault did next. He flew –quite literally flew– over the desk and shoved Alder back. The chair in which the boy sat tipped and would have toppled over, had Renault not grabbed the front of his shirt and held him up. "You trespassed on my estate," he said simply, his cordial voice contradicting his mad expression. "By the law of my land, anything of value on your person becomes my property. I told you that before, or did it not sink into your puerile head?"
"What did I have of value but a bow, arrows, some feathers and a little glue?"
"You know what I speak of." Renault's voice dropped an octave to a dark, ominous whisper. "Your magic, as little of a gift as it is, is worth far more than anything else you have." He walked around to stand behind Alder. Even though Renault had let go of him, Alder still sat tipped back. Merlin saw that Renault's eyes glowed, not just with magic but with hunger. "Your magic belongs to me through two laws. First, by the law of my land. Second," he leaned down to whisper in Alder's ear. "My need is greater than your need. Therefore, the magic is rightfully mine." Alder looked straight ahead, wide-eyed and terrified of the monster literally breathing down his neck. The monster morphed back into the cordial, slightly insane Renault. He set Alder's chair back on all four feet. "And now," he turned his mad eyes on Merlin. "What have you to ask?"
Merlin certainly had more than one question to ask. Who this beast was, where they were, what he planned to do, what happened to his magic –all of these were good questions. Of course, when his tongue disentangled itself, his mind jumped to the least useful question. "What do you do when you cut our hands?"
"That is part of the investigation. I sense your bound magic even now, the most powerful I have ever felt," he added with a sick, predatory smile that made Merlin's skin crawl. "Your investigation will be most enjoyable, Master Merlin, so I will grant you a longer answer." He noted Merlin's look of surprise. "Oh yes, your king told me all about you. Now then, on to my tale. I have a great calling, bestowed upon me by the gods. I am to lead an uprising against the rulers of this land and restore the Old Religion to its proper place. To do that, I must amass power. By power, I do not mean solely magic; determination, courage, sheer force of will–all of these qualities can, and will, be needed as well.
"In the investigation, cutting the right hand shows me these qualities. They manifest themselves differently in each person, but when I cut them I find what I am looking for. In a word, I know who you are. And, I must say, I find the experience rather exciting." He leered wickedly.
Merlin's stomach turned at the thought of this horrible man knowing what made him. "And you–"
Renault jumped, his face inches from Merlin's, eyes blazing. "Silence!" He calmed slightly and continued, slowly pacing around his chair. "Anyway, the left hand shows me your secrets, your fears, your shame. I have found that those memories are the easiest way in. An allegory, perhaps." He pulled an egg out of nowhere. "Imagine that this is your head. Rather shaped like your head, isn't it." He laughed at his own joke. "This crack," he hit the egg on the side of his desk and showed them the now-sizable crack running the length of the shell, "is your deepest secret. Later on," he dug a fingernail into the crack. The egg split open easily, the yolk and white running into the bowl on the desk. "I will reap those qualities we spoke of by tapping into that secret.
"I've been at this for two years now, understand? I've taken talent and magic from hundreds of people. Even if your magic is the strongest I have ever seen, what chance do you have resisting the weight of my amassed power?" His voice turned dark. "And, on the off chance that you do break out and live to tell the tale, I will know the instant you are free. I will kill the rest of your friends, beginning with Arthur. I will make you watch as I slit their throats and let them bleed out. And then you will be the last to die, knowing that you failed them.
"Now, shall we begin?" His eyes glowed and the chains around Merlin's legs and arms fell away. He was forced to shuffle forward. Renault grabbed his right arm and held it over the bowl on his desk. The egg bits had vanished from the bowl.
No matter how Merlin tried to twist away, he could not break Renault's grip. His legs were anchored to the floor. He scrambled for the barest trickle of magic, but it had fled him entirely in his panic. All he could do was watch as Renault drew an ornate knife and drew it across his right palm. It hurt like a line of fire had been drawn across his hand. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek rather than cry out.
Blood welled up out of the open cut and slowly dripped into the bowl. When the first drop hit, Merlin felt the floor vanish. He was falling through darkness.
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Check back on 15 September for Chapter Five. And keep sending those reviews in!