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.
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Chapter Six: Taken
Alder instantly stopped struggling. Carefully, never letting go off his wrist, Renault moved around the desk. He moved like a man in a dream–slowly, languidly, his eyes closed.
Alder twitched, like someone had poked him with a pin. "John's got a da," he said in a childlike voice. "Alice's got a da. Will's got only a da. Where's my da?" His head suddenly jerked to the side, as if he had been slapped across the face.
"Shut yer gob," Renault snapped in a voice that was not entirely his own. It sounded like a woman's voice, careworn and severe. Merlin watched, horrified but unable to tear his gaze from them. They were reliving Alder's memories, Renault playing whatever part was opposite Alder.
"He done it!" Renault shouted in a harsh man's voice. "He beat up my son!"
"I did not," Alder replied. He sounded older than a child now, but still younger than he was presently.
"Lyin' bastard!" Renault screeched in the voice of a young boy. "Yeh blacked my eye and broke my arm. Yeh nearabout broke my neck!"
"Yeh're the bastard–" Alder started to retort when his head jolted again.
Unnervingly, Renault spoke in overlapping voices and tones. "Never trusted 'im–"
"Creepy, those great green eyes."
"Ne'er been the same after that time–"
"Ma, where can I go? I don' know anywhere but Stonesbury." Alder was frightened.
Renault spoke as Alder's mother. "Go to yer father in Huntaburgh. I know, I never told yeh 'bout him, but if yeh stay here yeh'll be killed. Take his ring here and go. His name's Dan Fletcher. Tell him yeh're Lara's boy."
"But, Ma…" Alder sounded stupefied by the sudden revelation about his father.
"Go! Get out!" The first word was spoken by Alder's mother; the second and third words by an entirely new voice. It belonged to a man who spoke without the broad peasant's accent that all of Renault's other voices possessed.
"Yeh gave my ma this ring!" Alder shouted back. "Her name's Lara. She's in Stonesbury, near the Camelot border."
Sudden silence. Alder shook so hard he would have fallen if his feet were not anchored to the floor. Renault also shook, but not from fear. "Well now," the monster commented. "You're not as spectacular of a source as Master Merlin here, but you'll do." He dropped Alder's right arm and turned to pick up his left. He drew the blade on the boy's hand. Merlin watched the blood drip and land in the bowl.
Without a flash or a noise or a warning of any kind, both Renault and Alder were thrown back from the desk. Merlin did not see where Renault landed, but Alder slammed into Merlin's chair. He dropped unconscious to the floor and silence fell once more. Merlin tried to move, to speak, to make some sound. But he found that he could not. A cut in Alder's head began to course dark red blood.
Renault unexpectedly arose from behind the desk like a demon out of the earth. Merlin involuntarily shuddered at the sight of him. The relish in his eyes had grown to a definite fire of elation and ecstasy. "Oh, yes," he whispered. "Oh, yes!"
He appeared to have forgotten that anyone else was even in the room. He leaned against his desk, looking out the window. Then he began to laugh. It began as a rough chuckle and swelled into a resounding, over-the-moon, feral sound that was more roaring than laughter. He stopped abruptly and went to the door. The metal ceased glowing when he opened it.
"Take the prisoners back, Rowena." he ordered the sorceress outside. Without a glance at the manservant or the unresponsive boy, Renault left the room, cackling madly.
Rowena took them back to their cell as she had before. She attached their chains to the wall again and swept out of the room. As the door clanged shut, Merlin looked over at Alder. He had not moved of his own accord since…since the investigation. He looked grisly with the blood from his cut painting a bright red half-mask on his face.
A terrible sense of loneliness came over Merlin. Alder may be in the same room, Arthur and the knights may be nearby, but he was helpless and alone. No, not quite alone. There was only him and Renault. Even in his own mind, he was not truly alone. His thoughts, his dreams, his fears, everything had been violated.
"Merlin?" A voice called him back. That voice –quiet, friendly, worried– was a welcome sound.
"Arthur," Merlin breathed back through the wall. "Are you alright?"
"I should be asking you that."
In spite of what he had just undergone, he smiled slightly. "I'll be fine." That was a promise. Not just for Arthur, but for himself. He had to fine.
"Attention, men of Camelot." Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin. Not again. Not again, he thought in desperation. To his relief, Renault stayed outside in the corridor. "Oh, and bastard from the Camelot border."
"Shut up about Merlin!" several voices yelled, along with some colourful suggestions about Renault's parentage and activities.
"So protective of a lowly commoner," Renault remarked coolly, not even annoyed by the insults.
"A man with more worth than you could ever hope to have." He was sure that low voice was Arthur's.
"Oh tut, do you even know him, Arthur Pendragon? Has he told you the truth? For that matter, does he know the truth about himself?"
Merlin paled. Renault knew what all of them thought of him, knew that not one of his friends from Camelot was aware of his magic. If he told them now…
He was so preoccupied with Renault's insinuation that he nearly missed what was said next. "I told Master Merlin of my great calling, but I'll fill you all in as well. It is my destiny to gather power and magic until I can rise up and restore the Old Religion. Thanks to you, I will have the power I need within a week. I only need wait a few more days before I can reap the bounty that has so unexpectedly tumbled into my lap.
"Do be sure to tell the bastard when he awakens, will you? He is the reason my mission will soon be fulfilled. The rest of you?" He scoffed. "I could do without the power you have to give." Merlin heard Renault's heavy footsteps tramping away.
"Merlin," Arthur said. "That boy, is he still in the cell with you?"
"Yes. And he is unconscious," Merlin replied distantly. Cautiously he made his way to Alder. The boy lay where he had fallen when Rowena released her spells. Merlin noticed, belatedly, that Renault had forgotten to bind up the wounds in his hands. Again he sacrificed his shirt hem for bandages.
As he wrapped the cloth around Alder's right palm, images appeared in his mind. A small village, not unlike Ealdor. A massive castle of square towers on an otherwise empty plain. A bow, only half-made, resting on a wooden bench among leftover scraps of wood. Beside the bow, a quiver of arrows fletched with grey and black feathers.
Merlin drew his hand away. There was blood on it, blood that was not his. He felt sick, disgusted with himself. Some of the magic from Renault's investigation must have hung on. It was bad enough that any of them had been forced to go through that once. For any one of them to have a second go at it was worse. For Merlin to be the (inadvertent) instigator of it was horrifying.
He did not get a chance to rectify. The cell door swung open noisily to admit a complete stranger. It was one of the guards, plastered drunk. He clutched a large war hammer. "Found 'em!" he called behind him. Raucous laughter from the other guards floated through the doorway. The guard lumbered toward Merlin and took a swing at him with the hammer.
Merlin ducked. The hammer smashed into the wall above him and Alder. "What are you doing?!" he yelled furiously. He heard Arthur and the others in the cells next to him shouting.
The guard looked at him in surprise. "Oh." He teetered and almost fell as he looked more closely at Merlin. "Not you. T' other one." He moved to the side, closer to Alder, and lifted his hammer once more.
Merlin propelled himself into the guard and knocked him aside before he could strike the boy. Furious, the guard lashed back at Merlin. He ducked, and by doing so did not see the other fist coming. He felt himself sail back and collide with the opposite wall.
When he was aware again, the hammer lay on the floor next to him, along with a chain leading to a wall. A chain with one link smashed, rendering it useless. The guard was dragging Alder behind him. Merlin caught a glimpse at the boy. He appeared to be unharmed, aside from his left palm bleeding, the gash in his forehead, and still being unconscious. The guard slammed the door behind him.
"Merlin, answer me!" That desperate command brought back his wits.
"Arthur, they took Alder."
"Who?"
"The boy!" Merlin began to explain what happened.
Through the door, he heard the sound of water splashing. Someone coughed and choked. "Glad you're awake," the guard shouted, slurring his words. "S'always better when they're awake." The other guards guffawed noisily. "Shut UP!" the first one bellowed. They obeyed, save for a few low snickers. "You got sumfin milord wants."
"I told him." Merlin struggled to hear Alder's low voice. "I got nothin'–"
A punch silenced him. "Don' gimme that," the guard warned. "I'll ask one more time. What does he want?"
"Search me," Alder said.
"Oh, I will," the guard promised. "I will thru– thor– thoru–" he stumbled, and then gave up trying to pronounce the word. Merlin could do nothing. He heard fists striking, chains rattling, gasps of pain, and the other guards sniggering at the spectacle. "Now, lads," the first one announced. "Let's see how this little f–"
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" a livid voice roared.
"L-l-lord Renault! I was g-getting inf–"
"You know as well as I that was not what you were doing," Renault uttered in a low hiss. "Barracks, all of you." Feet that were trying very hard to march and not to run away stole past the cells. "Now, Master Fletcher–"
"Don't touch me!" Alder snarled.
"You're bruised and bleeding. I forgot to bandage your hands and–"
"If you touch me again, I will snap your neck." Alder's voice went uncompromising and cold. Even Merlin, who was not in the same room, felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. Though he had known the boy for less than a day, the voice he heard did not belong to the Alder he knew.
Renault did not reply. Merlin's door opened again. Renault stuck his head in. "Get out here," he ordered. His eyes glowed and the chain fell away. Merlin was still shackled, but no longer fettered to the wall. "You have a physician's training. Your companion is injured. But be warned."
The shackles around Merlin's legs suddenly constricted. For a terrible few seconds, he thought the metal would cut straight through the flesh and bone. The chains relaxed, now slippery with blood.
Renault spoke directly in his thoughts. If you attempt any magic, no matter how small, the shackles will completely close, no matter what is in their way. Understand? He shook Merlin's mind the way one would shake a child in an attempt to make them understand.
"Now get up and follow me. Your companion is hurt," he repeated, just in case Merlin had forgotten. The manservant jumped to his feet. Renault handed him a wooden bucket filled with water and a pile of cloths. The monster allowed him to walk instead of causing him to float along. They came to the left-hand door. Renault opened it and, to Merlin's astonishment, held it open for him.
The room was where Merlin had seen the guards before. A worn table and some overturned chairs were the only furnishings. A weak torch bolted to the wall flickered. Just out of its light, tucked into a corner, lay a pile of limbs and dirty cloth. Alder.
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Check back on 21 September for Chapter Seven.