The bandits had come upon them suddenly, before they could retrieve their armor. Though they were a little worse for wear and their clothing was shredded and bloody, no one had any serious injuries. Not so for the bandits; none of them had lived.

Merlin was at the stream they were camped near to, washing his bloody hands after tending to the party's wounds. Mordred soon joined him, sitting on the other side of the stream, shoving down the ripped shreds of his shirt and attempting to wash the blood off of his shoulder from the minor knife wound that Merlin had sewn shut just above his now fully visible Triskell tattoo. Merlin ignored him and continued scrubbing at his hands.

"Isn't that a druid mark?!"

Merlin and Mordred's heads shot up. Neither had heard Sir Ewan approach. He was staring at Mordred now, his brow furrowed and his brown eyes narrowed.

Mordred stiffened. "Yes, It is a druid mark. It's called a triskell." He went back to cleaning his wound.

Sir Ewan's hand went to his sword. "Sorcerer!"

"Not all druids practice magic, Ewan." Merlin said quietly.

"It's Sir Ewan!" He drew his sword and levelled it at Mordred's neck across the tiny stream. Mordred stopped moving, then slowly stood, mirroring Merlin.

"Ewan, put the sword down." Merlin bit out.

"I said it's Sir Ewan to you, runt. Just because the king lets you get away with disrespect doesn't mean I have to. Frankly his affection for you is irrational and distasteful in the extreme! A bastard peasant, friend and confidant to the king." Sir Ewan spat on the ground. "And now I find that one of his knights, a brother in arms is druid trash, and a sorcerer!" His voice reached a crescendo by the end of his sentence.

Merlin frowned and his hands twitched, he clenched them into fists. Mordred was still, his eyes locked on Ewan's.

"Merlin? What's going on?" Merlin was relieved to hear Gwaine's voice. The man was approaching quickly, his hand on his sword.

"Ewan - " Merlin began.

"Sir Ewan, runt!" Growled Ewan. At these words Gwaine turned and scowled at the knight, then looked back at Merlin, waiting for him to continue.

"Ewan saw the druidic tattoo Mordred has on his chest. His shirt was ripped to shreds in the fight and he was trying to clean off the blood from his wound right above it." Merlin said calmly.

Gwaine turned back to Ewan, smiling. "Ew, put the sword down."

"Sir Ewan!"

Gwaine drew his sword and Ewan froze as it was thrust under his chin.

"Merlin, Ew here doesn't seem to want to be nice and put his pretty toothpick down. Maybe you should go get the princess." Gwaine's voice was unnaturally cheery.

"I think you're right." Merlin shot off into the brush.

Gwaine smiled again at Ewan; he was smart enough to realize this probably was not a good thing.

Merlin returned quickly, the king in tow.

"Hey Princess. Ew here is being a right bastard." Gwaine sang out.

"Sire! This man is a druid! I saw his pagan druid mark with my own eyes!" Ewan yelled out.

"I know." Arthur's tone was low, but laced with anger. "I know he is a druid because I smuggled him out of Camelot and back to his people years ago when he was still a child so that he wouldn't be burned alive on a pyre."

Ewan's eyes widened. "But sire.. he could possess magic! Sorcerers are common among the druids!"

"He could." Arthur agreed. "But I have never seen evidence of it. What I have seen evidence of is his bravery, and his loyalty, and his willingness to serve as a knight of Camelot. He also saved my life when I was at Ismere. So. Ew, I suggest you put down your sword."

"But-"

"Now."

Ewan's arm fell. Gwaine held his sword to Ewan's neck for a moment more, then removed it, purposely nicking it in the process.

"Ow!" Ewan yelped. "Oops." Gwaine smiled.

...

Merlin was stiff in the saddle, his eyes glazed. His horse came to a stop. They were on a track passing through dense forest, and ordinarily Merlin would have been happy to be out in nature with no life threatening mission on the line, heading back to Camelot, but something wasn't right. The path ahead was wreathed in shadow, the trees closer and the path narrower than it had been. To one side of the track was a stone, covered in unreadable mauled script.

Beside Merlin, Mordred had stopped as well. Gwaine turned back, noticing their expressions. "What's wrong? He asked quietly.

"We need to find a way around this part of the forest. Something isn't right." Merlin murmured, eyes still unfocused.

Now it was Arthur's voice that hit them. "What's wrong?" He was was stopped, twisting around in his saddle. Ewan was off to the side, still looking sullen. The other knights had been ignoring him in favor of better company.

"I don't think we should go this way." Merlin managed. "Something doesn't feel right."

Mordred spoke. "I agree with Merlin, sire."

Arthur looked at them oddly.

"We should go around, Arthur." Merlin said.

"Merlin, I swear, I don't know why I take you on these missions, you always end up scared out of your wits and absolutely useless." Gwaine frowned at Arthur for the insult.

Merlin sighed and kicked his horse forward. Mordred rode alongside him reluctantly, Gwaine behind. As they approached the stone, Merlin squinted at it, attempting to read it, but it was pointless. Doubtless it had been defiled during the great purge.

As Merlin and Mordred passed the stone a great wind rose up. The horses began to squeal and buck and both Merlin and Mordred were thrown from their horses. "Merlin!" Gwaine shouted as he grappled with his horse, worried his friend would be trampled. As Gwaine watched, the two men dissapeared before his eyes, their bodies never hitting the ground.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Merlin! Mordred!" He roared frantically. The wind abruptly ceased. "Where the hell did they go?!"

The king and his knights looked at each other in shock. Merlin and Mordred were nowhere to be seen.