Ch. 8
Beneath what felt like layer upon layer of shock, dread and confusion at the sudden change in scenery was a veneer of guilt. Merlin had been so intent on following the various directions the pendant kept turning that he hadn't thought to open up his awareness and sense the power for himself when he had figured they were near to avoid colliding with it.
And now here they were, which Merlin hadn't meant to let happen. But glancing back over his shoulder showed him a sort of… airy ripple, like heat, hovering in the air in a jagged line. He moved toward it, put his hand through it, and sighed in relief.
"It's okay," he said with a tremulous smile. "We can still get out—"
"Wait," Arthur said, drawing his knife from his sleeve. "Do you hear that?"
Merlin strained his ears into the moaning movement of air through the corridor. At first he didn't hear anything of any real interest, but realized that deep within the movement of air was a rhythm.
Not unlike breathing.
Arthur began moving forward.
"Wait!" Merlin hissed, trying to whisper and be loud at the same time, which never really worked out the way anyone wanted. "Shouldn't we get the others?"
"I just want to see," Arthur said.
And knowing that Arthur wasn't going to be happy until he took their surprise opportunity to assess enemy territory, Merlin heaved a defeated sigh and followed after Arthur.
The corridor was long – nightmare long, like in those dreams where you ran and ran and never got anywhere. There were no joining corridors, no doorways, nothing but this single hallway. And then the hallway ended, almost suddenly, it seemed, but tension and fear always did make everything seem sudden. They stopped where the corridor ended and crouched behind one of its pillars. Beyond the entry was a massive chamber, like a man-made cavern as well as a forest of thin pillars made from black rock striated with silver.
And spread throughout this chamber were statues – skeleton statues dressed in ragged robes, each carrying a different weapon. The giant's army of the undead, or what looked like the undead. The real point of interest, however, was on the far end of the chamber, where sat a massive throne on a massive dais, so massive that it made even the huge chamber feel almost cramped. And sitting on that dais, slumped and asleep, was the giant wrapped in his cloak of different colored furs.
Merlin's heart beat so fast it hurt. Lords, if there was ever an opportunity to be taken to discover an enemy's weakness, this was it. Even if it would be foolhardy and dangerous and possibly end up getting them killed. But all things considered, it wasn't as though there was much to lose. Either they would die by the hands of the giant here and now or out on the hill. Either way, Merlin's earlier bout of self-preservation vanished. He wanted a look at that cloak.
Merlin did what he should have done earlier and opened his senses to any magic this place might have. The magic within the statues was currently weak, dormant, and the only other power he could sense was coming directly from the giant. So he didn't have to worry about magical traps.
"Stay here," Merlin whispered. "I want to take a look at that cloak." He was about to creep forward when Arthur grabbed his arm.
"Are you mad? What if he wakes up and you're too busy picking at his wardrobe choice to notice." He took the lead. "I'm coming with you."
Merlin heaved yet another sigh, but followed Arthur. Lords, they were mad. It really was a miracle all the dangers of Camelot hadn't killed them sooner, even with the help of Merlin's magical interventions.
They walked heel to toe and slowly, minimizing any noise until there seemed to be no noise at all save for the giant's heavy breathing. They made their way to the far wall on the right, where the shadows were deeper (Merlin still didn't know where the paltry blue glow was coming from. But in a strange realm full of powerful magic, neither did he bother questioning it). They crept along the wall, all the way to the dais and its throne of black and gold stone.
Merlin's stomach churned at what he saw piled behind the dais. Bodies, dozens of them, more than dozens, tossed into a careless heap, some rotted to bones and others in the process of decay. But that wasn't even half the horror.
Some of the fresher bodies had no skin on the lower part of their faces. Merlin recognized one of the bodies as belonging to that barbarian with the war hammer. His face, too, had been skinned.
Merlin frowned. He looked from the bodies to the cloak.
The area where the faces had been skinned were right where a beard had been.
Merlin's eyes widened.
That wasn't multi-colored fur the giant was wearing.
That was human beards.
Merlin frantically tapped Arthur on the shoulder. When he got Arthur's attention, he pointed at the bodies, then at the cloak. He had to do so twice, and then realization dawned on Arthur's face, looking more like horror and a need to be sick.
Merlin's mind raced, pieces that had refused to come together suddenly flinging into place so rapidly he could barely keep up. Of course. Of course, that was how the giant was so powerful. That was how his cloak could hold so many enchantments. He takes a beard, places on it a single enchantment, and then adds it to the cloak, layering power upon power.
And how does one break through such a massive wall that seems to have no weakness? By giving it a weakness.
Merlin leaned in close to Arthur's ear and whispered. "We need to get pieces of that cloak. As many as possible, from different areas. I can use what we get against him."
Arthur nodded. He pulled another smaller dagger from his boot and handed it to Merlin. Together, they slunk toward the dais like foxes toward a hen house, and crouched beneath the armrest that towered overhead like a tree.
Arthur pointed to Merlin, then to the bottom of the cloak. He pointed to himself, made an arced sweep with his hand, and after delivering these gestures, made his way to the other side of the dais.
Merlin slunk closer to where the bottom of the cloak brushed over the smooth floor. He took a deep, quiet breath, swallowed, then quickly sawed off a piece of what looked to be a blond beard and sneering in disgust. He shoved the bit of beard into his pocket, then straightened and reached higher, cutting off a piece of black beard. He dug through the beards, going deeper to those whose enchantments would be older. The older enchantments would be the most difficult to deal with, so he continued to dig, taking as much hair as he could.
Something was nagging Merlin at the back of his mind, a creeping feeling of wrongness and dread that he would have brushed off as anxiety had it not kept getting stronger. Something was wrong.
Merlin stopped harvesting hair.
Something had changed. It took Merlin a moment to realize what it was.
The chamber was silent. The giant's heavy breathing had stopped.
Merlin slowly looked up. Terror raced through him like lightning.
The giant was glaring down at him.
"Oh no," he breath. Then he threw out his hand with a word of magic, and a fire ball went flying at the giant's face. The ball exploded harmlessly but so brightly in the gloom that the giant reared back with a bass cry of annoyance.
"Run, Arthur!" Merlin cried. He leaped from the dais and looked right to see Arthur racing alongside him. They darted through stone statues that were starting to crack, black oozing from them like smoke. They heard the giant roar behind them, then heard his thundering footfalls giving chase. Merlin didn't look when he let loose another, brighter fireball, then another, only hoping that they hit their mark and either staggered the giant or blinded him enough to slow him temporarily.
They entered the corridor that became a blur of blue, gray and black, they were running so fast. Merlin felt before he saw the tear into this realm. He pulled Arthur closer to him, then shoved him forward through the tear. Merlin leaped after him.
They both came stumbling out of the tear, but caught their balance and continued to run.
Fear could almost in itself be considered magic the way it fueled them to keep going, even when Merlin's lungs began to burn and his ribs developed a stitch. But even that fuel was limited, and when it finally began to lag, Merlin was the first to stumble. Arthur grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upright, propelling him forward. They ran for what felt like forever, until Merlin once again realized that something had changed.
No more thundering footfalls followed.
"Arthur…" Merlin gasped, the air like a dry whetstone to his throat. "Arthur… stop. It's… alright. Please, stop…"
Arthur didn't stop, but he did slow to a fast walk, glancing over his shoulder periodically even as he, too, sucked in great heaving breaths.
"Where is he? Why isn't he following?" Arthur demanded. "He was only three more strides away from overtaking us when I last looked back. Is he trapped in that realm until a certain time of the day or something?"
Merlin shrugged. "Could be… he's going to wait… to challenge us directly tomorrow."
"But why? We have pieces of his cloak we're going to use against him."
Merlin, however, shook his head. "He may not know that. He may have just thought… we were trying to destroy it." He then had a very disturbing thought. "But if he's offended, he might decide that tomorrow's battle will be the last. If we lose…" he looked up at Arthur in terror. "If we lose, and we really did enrage him, he'll destroy Ealdor."
Arthur frowned at this. "Can he do that? I thought he had to face every challenger?"
"That's what he wants to do. Arthur, he's the one calling the shots – not for honor or glory but for fun. He's like a child, and what happens when a child isn't having fun anymore?"
Arthur's face paled and his expression became grim. "He throws a tantrum."
"Exactly. Arthur… Arthur, we can't lose."
"We won't," Arthur promised.
Soon they were hobbling more than walking, Merlin feeling so weighed down with exhaustion that, oddly enough, he almost felt like he could float away while his legs would try to sink into the ground at any moment. It was because he'd panicked so spectacularly down in the hole; that was all he could figure. He barely remembered it, though – that panic.
He didn't want to remember it. It had been so real – the dark, the scraping, the absolute certainty that his freedom had been a dream.
He had honestly though he was still in the oubliette.
But Arthur had been there. Just like in those dreams, where Arthur would come down and say that Merlin was free, and he and Merlin would start up the ladder only for Merlin to wake up and still be in the dark.
But Arthur had been there and stayed, and hoisted Merlin out of the dark. And dreams, Merlin knew, were not so vivid to be able to feel as Arthur lifted him up into the light, feel the warmth above him and cool earth below him. There was nothing to feel in dreams.
So what did that make his freedom from the pit? A dream come true? Merlin chuckled, prompting an odd look from Arthur.
"What?" Arthur asked.
"Nothing," Merlin said. "I'm just… really tired."
Arthur chuffed. "I can imagine."
They left the woods for the hills and arrived back at the camp to a frantic Gwaine and Elyan.
"Arthur! Where the hell did you alight off to? We've been looking everywhere for you," Gwaine said. His gaze went straight to Merlin and he stiffened. "What happened? Why are you both looking like death warmed up?"
"In a minute," Arthur said. "Gwaine, Elyan, get everyone together and meet me at my tent. And someone fetch Gaius." He continued half-carrying, half dragging Merlin all the way to his tent, where he sat him down in the tent's only comfortable looking chair.
"Okay," Arthur sighed, plopping down on the edge of his cot. "What do you need in order to use all the hair we collected to our advantage?"
Merlin chuckled again, trying to keep it from sounding hysterical but mostly failing. "I have no idea."
~oOo~
Merlin found it both ironic and frustrating at times that here he was, the supposedly greatest warlock to ever walk the earth, and what he knew of spells and incantations could only fill a tea mug, and that was even after having thoroughly studied his magic book.
The problem, however, wasn't knowledge so much as retaining that knowledge, and Merlin made a mental note to carry around a small journal fill with the spells he used most to help keep everything straight in his head. He would have done that sooner had his magic not still have been a secret at the time, and magic diaries were rather condemning as evidence.
Thank goodness for Gaius and his foresight. Or more his sentimentality, really – he had brought Merlin's spell book, but had hesitated in giving it to him when Merlin had made it known that he still couldn't use his magic. But he could use it now.
Lords, he could use his magic. The realization made Merlin so giddy that his hands began to shake, but that could have also been because of the exhaustion. The shaking became more pronounced when he found a spell that was exactly what they needed for their situation. He and Gaius wasted no time collecting the required materials and getting to work.
Arthur scoffed at the finished product.
"They're… dolls," Arthur said with a slight twist of displeasure to his lips.
Merlin glared at him. "They're magical constructs," he said. "Made to temporarily separate a sorcerer from his magic."
"They're little dolls made of straw, like what little girls put together when they need more dolls for a tea party."
Merlin huffed. "There really is no pleasing you."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine. They're little magical dolls. Will they work?"
Merlin fidgeted slightly. "Er… they should, in theory."
"In theory," Arthur echoed.
"Yes. Normally you have to place the dolls where the target sleeps and, well, not light them on fire so much as cause them to smolder. But the hairs we collected should create a link to the cloak, or at least the parts of the cloak where the hair came from. It should weaken the cloak in places allowing us to get through his defenses."
Arthur sat down in the chair that Merlin had long ago vacated to begin creating the dolls. "But only in theory," he said.
"Arthur," Merlin said wearily. "You made me two promises today. Now it's my turn to make a promise. And that promise is that I will help you fight this giant, and I will help you defeat him. Magic is what I know, and if this doesn't work I will find another way. But I know it will work. I'll make sure it works."
Arthur pressed his lips together and nodded. "Alright, then." He heaved out a heavy breath. "I suppose we've done all we can for now. All that's left is to..." he shrugged, "Get what rest we can."
"Oh," Merlin said, pulling two vials from his pocket. "Gaius made us some sleeping draughts. He said the more rested we are, the better." He handed one to Arthur.
The other he stared at, apprehension gnawing at the back of his mind. The draughts helped him sleep.
But at the price of trapping him in his dreams.
"Merlin?"
Merlin looked up.
Arthur stared at him, studying him. "Take the cot."
Merlin chuckled. "I'm fine on the ground, Arthur. Remember, I grew up sleeping on a floor."
"Then at least sleep in a bedroll."
Arthur got up from the chair and had a knight passing by fetch one of the spare bedrolls from the wagon.
"You can stay in the tent if you want," Arthur said. "It's big enough."
Merlin, bedroll in his arms, shifted uncomfortably, the candle he kept in his pocket feeling suddenly heavy. "That might… not be a good idea," he said. "I'm um… I'm a bit of a restless sleeper these days and, um… I need extra help in going to sleep, you see. Nothing big but you might find it distracting."
Arthur just smiled at him. "Merlin, I can sleep through a contingent of knights snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Do what you need to. If it helps you sleep then that's all that matters."
Arthur readied for bed as Merlin laid out his bed roll for the night. They took their draughts, and climbed into their respective beds. On Merlin's side of the tent, a candle glowed softly.
TBC...
A/N: Hey, look at that, no cliffhanger this time :D