Author's note: Hello everyone! Okay, so I am really, really, really, really, sorry about the wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Have a fantastic day!

Cheers!

TTT

Chapter 8

Arthur watched blurrily as the Great Dragon soared down from the sky, fire bursting from his jaws, setting the forest alight with flame. The sorcerer's men looked up to face this new threat, and shouted in terror, backing up. The Dragon flew over the trees, scattering the men into the burning forest.

The knights grouped together into battle formation, roughly shoving back all thoughts of fear and doubt. They had fought this dragon before and had returned home victorious. They would do so again, or die trying. With that thought in mind they straightened their shoulders and waited for the dragon to come their way.

Arthur rose shakily to his feet, looking around for his fallen sword. He had to help them! Smoke was thick in the air, making it hard to see and even harder to breath. His throat felt raw from the lack of oxygen he had endured over the past few minutes, and the smoke burned in his lungs. He gasped and choked, struggling to stay upright.

The Dragon was back, the Dragon that was supposed to be dead, the Dragon that he had killed… was back.

He had to help his knights.

Casting his eyes about for his sword, he finally found it lying on the hard packed earth under some leaves, gleaming dully in the firelight. Arthur stooped down and picked it up, happy to have the firm sword in his grasp once more.

The Dragon's severe, unrelenting flames were overwhelming the sorcerer's men, and only a few were able to escape into the relative safety of the forest.

A small part of Arthur's brain noticed that the dragon didn't seem to be attacking his own men at all, in fact, it seemed to be consciously avoiding them. If Arthur had not known better, he could almost… Arthur shook his head, effectively ridding himself of all puzzling thoughts. He had a job to do.

Clumsily, Arthur ran, his knee throbbing from the constant, straining activity of the last few minutes. He stopped when he reached his knights, who had stubbornly remained to protect their prince and their kingdom, despite their obvious fear.

Arthur felt a surge of affection for these few men in front of him. He could think of none more worthy, who he would rather fight beside, and if necessary, die, beside. 'Well,' Arthur thought introspectively, amending his last thought. 'I can think of one skinny idiot who I would like to have beside me right now.'

All further complimentary thoughts toward his ungainly manservant were cut off as the dragon, finally finished with the sorcerer's men, swooped down, and landed in front of them.

Arthur took a deep breath, exhaled, then slowly, confidently, walked toward the Great Dragon, brandishing his sword.

The dragon shifted his weight, and then puffed noisily, steam shooting from his nostrils into the cold night air.

Instinctively, Arthur signaled for his men to split up and circle the beast, then smiled wryly at his own foolishness. It was just a dragon, it's not as if it could understand what he was saying, so, obviously there was no reason for him to exchange signals. It was just a dumb beast.

But there was something in this dumb beast's eyes, an ancient intelligence there that made Arthur hesitate.

Startled, he realized that the Dragon's eyes were a deep gold color, not the angry, bloodthirsty red that he had seen on their previous encounter.

As he stared, the dragon's gaze shifted towards him, and stared back. Arthur sucked in his breath. No one moved.

Then with a sudden jerk, and a sweep of his wings, the dragon jumped up and soared into the night sky.

Arthur squinted and shielded his eyes as he was blasted by the pulsing wind.

The dragon couldn't be getting away! Not this time!

Desperately, Arthur ran forward and shouted into the cold night air, "Hey! Wait! Come back!"

The beat of the dragon's wings slowed, and to Arthur's surprise, the great beast turned, hovering in the air hundreds of feet above them.

Arthur shifted uneasily, unsure of what to do. He could hardly ask the dragon to come back down so he could kill him. Already unnerved, Arthur just stood, bewildered.

The dragon cocked his head, and then from his mouth sprang a golden mist, that swirled and sparkled dazzlingly bright as it fell.

Arthur stiffened. That was magic.

Just before the mist hit him, Arthur thought he heard a quiet snort from the dragon as it flew off, then he was immersed in the golden light, and he saw the ground rushing toward him.

….

Merlin reached for the door latch to Lord Haymor's chambers, but leapt hastily back as Ollic came storming out, his face alight with anger.

"Ollic," Lord Haymor called out wearily, "Wait, please, I didn't mean that."

The old physician seemed to turn hard of hearing, however, for he heavily continued his pace down the corridor, not once looking back.

From his position with his back pressed against the opposite wall, Merlin shot a careful glance a Lord Haymor, who was staring hard at the ground.

Merlin stood stock still, loath to catch Lord Haymor's attention at a time like this.

After what seemed an eternity, Lord Haymor sighed, and flicked his glance at Merlin.

"Leave me," He muttered quietly, and with a sad look down the corridor, walked back into his chambers, his door closing with a solid click behind him.

Merlin subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. He hated fights, whether he was the one whiplashing the angry words or not.

Merlin cast a concerned glance down the corridor, much as Lord Haymor had done.

He liked Ollic, he really did.

In his short period of time here, he had already grown to have a solid respect for Ollic and Lord Haymor both.

Ollic had practically brought him back from the dead, healing the arrow wound in his left shoulder, while Lord Haymor had found him in the woods and given him a place to stay. Now they were fighting.

Course, now that he remembered, he had felt a tension between the two of them since the first day of his rather awkward arrival.

Merlin sighed.

He knew what he had to do.

He quietly began following the upset physician, not wanting to disturb him.

….

Merlin stood outside Ollic's closed door, with a philosophical look on his face. He really wanted to open this door and try his best to comfort the physician. On the other hand, he was quite certain he shouldn'topen this door, on the rather large chance that the physician didn't want comforting.

Finally Merlin shrugged, coming to a decision, and letting his curious side recklessly get the better of him.

Merlin reached for the latch. He wasn't going to knock, knowing that he would probably be sent away. He was planning to help his friend out whether he wanted him to or not.

Merlin flicked the latch and opened the door, stepping inside Ollic's chambers.

He froze.

Ollic was standing by his nightstand, face bowed, holding a small sketch of a very beautiful woman.

He looked so sad.

Merlin winced. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been this. He cast an uneasy glance at the door and wished with everything in him that he had knocked.

Slowly, Merlin began edging towards the door. Ollic obviously needed to be left alone. He backed up one small step. Then another. He was so close. Just one more step.

The floor squeaked.

Ollic's moist eyes shot up, locking on Merlin's mortified ones.

Ollic's brows snapped together.

"Uhm sorry," Merlin babbled hastily, instinctively taking a step back and almost tripping over his own feet in the process, "Didn't mean to barge in like that, well not really, I just wanted to see what was wrong, so I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, it- uhh won't happen again, I promi-"

"Emrys," Ollic said wearily, slowly placing the drawing of the woman down and rubbing his eyes, "It's alright, you can come in."

Merlin stopped backing towards the door. Ollic seemed to have forgotten his earlier anger, replacing it with a deep seeded sadness.

Slowly, Merlin began walking back into the room. He didn't want to be in here. Ollic's hurt brought back too many memories. Ollic continued to gaze at the picture he had set on his nightstand.

Merlin quietly walked until he stood beside the weary physician, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

He recognized the hurt in his voice. He had felt it. He stood in silence beside the man until Ollic had straightened his shoulders and lifted his head.

"What was her name?" Merlin asked softly.

Ollic didn't answer, and Merlin wondered if he had gone too far. He didn't want to intrude, but he knew that talking would help. It was also one luxury he had never gotten.

He had never been able to talk about Freya's death to anyone. They wouldn't understand.

Ollic sighed, and then finally answered, "Chloe," he said heavily, "Her name was Chloe."

Merlin flicked a cautious glance at him, wondering if he should go further.

He had to. He knew it. Taking a deep breath for courage Merlin plowed on, knowing that a straightforward attempt would be best.

"What happened to her?" Merlin asked, turning his head to look Ollic in the eye.

Ollic shook his head sadly, and sighed before he answered.

"She was killed," Ollic said bluntly, but his voice cracked, "She was killed in Camelot, and Haymor killed her."

Merlin sucked in his breath sharply, and almost coughed.

"What?" Merlin exclaimed disbelievingly, feeling stunned, "Lord Haymor killed her? What… why?"

Ollic frowned.

"It was not intentional," He said, slightly irritably, "but it was his fault."

Merlin let out a breath he had not known he had been holding, as relief washed over him. Lord Haymor was still a good person.

"What happened?" Merlin asked curiously, feeling a bit more at ease now.

Ollic rubbed his face and motioned for Merlin to sit down.

"It was twenty-four years ago," Ollic said heavily, "In Camelot."

24 years earlier… In Camelot

Ollic stood by his chamber window watching the setting sun, apprehension growing in his chest. Tonight was the night!

Tonight, they would escape.

Uther had just lost his wife, and with her his wits. He was mad with rage and grief, and thirsty for the blood of sorcerers.

The entire city was in lock-down. No one was to get in. Or out.

Nevertheless, Ollic had found a way out. He would get him and his wife out of here. They couldn't stay, they would be killed.

The relentless hunt of sorcery was happening even now. If Ollic listened, he thought that he could even hear the footsteps of the soldiers coming to arrest him. They were getting closer… and closer.

Ollic jumped, flinging himself around, as the door to his chambers flew open.

It was his wife, Chloe. Ollic breathed a sigh of relief. He was scared. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and ears. He was scared of getting caught, and he was scared of dying. But mostly, he was scared ofherdying, Ollic thought, watching the nervous figure of his wife.

Chloe was young, in her twenties, which was a good ten years younger than Ollic. And she was beautiful.

Strawberry blonde hair cascaded down her back, framing an elegant face with high cheekbones and green eyes.

Ollic smiled at her. Just the sight of her somehow always managed to cheer him up. Chloe nervously twirled her hair and smiled back.

They waited in silence as the sun slowly descended, casting the world in a brilliant tangle of colors.

They waited, as the colors slowly faded, and darkness came over the land.

Ollic took a deep, steadying breath. It was time.

Chloe shot him a questioning look, and Ollic nodded. Time to go.

Motioning towards the door, Ollic started to walk towards it, and felt Chloe's small hand slip into his.

He smiled down at her, and squeezed it comfortingly.

Quietly, Ollic inched the door open, praying that it would not squeak. Silence. Satisfied, Ollic began leading Chloe down towards the dungeons, towards the tunnel, and towards the iron grate at the end of the tunnel.

A friend would be waiting for him there, with a servant and two horses to yank the grate off.

At least, Ollic hoped that a friend would be waiting for him there. He had sent him a letter, but hadn't received one back due to the fact messengers couldn't get in.

….

"What?" Merlin interrupted confused, "If messengers weren't allowed to travel, how were you able to send your letter?"

Ollic looked at him irritably, not happy at having been jolted from his train of thought.

"How do you think?" The old physician asked, staring at Merlin as if it should be obvious.

Slowly, Merlin's mouth formed the shape of an 'O' as realization dawned on him. This man was a sorcerer after all. Merlin had used exactly the same spell to get his letter to Arthur.

Ollic nodded, rolling his eyes. He then continued his history.

Reluctantly, Merlin settled back down and listened. He didn't like this story. He knew it wasn't going to have a happy ending.

…

Quickly, stealthily, Ollic and Chloe made their way to the dungeons, their soft boots making almost no sound on the smooth stone floor.

As they were descending the cold steps, they heard the heavy clang of metal boots on stone. The guards!

Their survival instinct taking over, Ollic and Chloe dashed into the deep shadows on the stairway, shrinking back until their backs hit the wall.

They held their breaths. Ollic prayed that the guards wouldn't have a torch.

Thankfully the patrol rounded the corner empty handed, but then slowly began making its way up the wide staircase.

Ollic closed his eyes. They had no reason to be down here, at least no valid one that they could tell the guards. If they were found, Ollic knew that they wouldn't live to see the morrow.

The guards loudly continued ascending the stairs, their gazes stuck straight ahead.

When they were level with them, they were so close Ollic thought he almost could have reached out and touched them. Yet wisely, Ollic decided to keep his hands to himself. Without difficulty, the guards reached the top of the stairs and continued on.

Ollic wanted to lean against the wall and bathe in the relief he was feeling. But they had to keep moving. He didn't want to run out of time.

Taking Chloe by the hand, they hastily entered the foul smelling dungeons. Chloe crinkled her nose in distaste. No one entered the dungeons unless they had no other choice, especially these days. Men, woman and children were being locked up every day on the charge of sorcery. This place reeked of fear and death.

Ollic saw a small girl with big eyes staring at him though the bars. She couldn't have been more than ten.

Her face looked so… hopeless.

Beside him, he felt Chloe stiffen, and heard her soft cry of pity. Ollic kept moving. Letting the people in the dungeon out could mean them getting caught, could mean Chloe getting caught. He couldn't allow that.

Chloe ran to catch up, grabbing his forearm and tapping him on the shoulder. Ollic had expected as much. Chloe had a big heart. He looked down at her. Her face was ashen. Chloe motioned towards the cells, mouthing, "Help them."

Ollic shook his head sadly. He couldn't. Ollic made to turn back around and take Chloe by the hand but she withdrew, stepping back, shaking her head.

Ollic turned to her in desperation, trying to make her understand. If he let them out, there was every possibility that they wouldallbe caught. Chloe shook her head stubbornly and Ollic felt a surge of affection for her.

Ollic rubbed his face and sighed, shaking his head. This would very well be the death of them, but deep down, he knew Chloe was right. Ollic then lifted his head and held his hand out, fingers spread wide. Ollic murmured quietly under his breath and waited. Nothing happened. Frowning, Ollic closed his eyes and murmured again. This time the locks on the cells slowly clicked open.

No one moved.

Then hesitantly, the prisoners started stirring in their cells, standing up and pushing their doors open with loud squeaks.

Ollic winced, and grabbed Chloe by the hand. This time she didn't pull away. She was looking at him with big, adoring eyes.

Ollic rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation, but inwardly he grinned. Behind him, Ollic heard a muted cry of delight. Turning around, he watched as the little girl ran, and embraced a big man in a bear hug.

"Papa!" The little girl murmured into his shoulder.

This time, Ollic did grin.

With a light heart, Ollic began pulling Chloe along, and made for the small entrance to the tunnel at the back of the dungeons. Abruptly, he stopped, an idea forming in his brain. He had let them go, so why not get them out? Ollic turned around, and motioned for the prisoners to follow him. A few shot him confused glances when he motioned towards the opening in the wall that was barely more than a crack. Others looked amused. Yet in the end, he finally got them to follow him into the tunnel.

Ollic nodded, feeling satisfied.

The tunnel was dark and damp. With no torch, Ollic could barely see his own hand. He heard muttered curses as the prisoners stumbled in the almost pitch darkness.

It felt like an eternity before he finally saw a dull light up ahead. And with that light came a surge of hope, hope he had not allowed himself before. They were going to make it!

The grate was now in front of him, and beyond it he could see a clearing, and beyond that, the forest, and beyond that, the night sky.

Ollic placed his hands on the grate, pressing his face to the bars, looking for his old friend, Lord Haymor.

In the trees, a little to his right, he heard a horse whinny. His eyes, snapped in that direction.

He saw a movement in the forest, and pushed his arm though the bars to wave a greeting. Only too late did he realize that the movement in the forest could be unfriendly. Ollic snapped his arm back. He needn't have, for the moving shadows quickly morphed into Lord Haymor who was leading two horses, with a servant lagging behind him.

Ollic smiled in relief. They were here.

Lord Haymor locked eyes with him, and smiled. In his hands he held a thick chain. With skillful hands, Haymor quickly began hooking the chain to the metal grate, and motioned for his servant to tie the other end to some rope that was connected to the horses.

The servant didn't seem to see the gesture, however, and just looked up at the immense castle walls.

Impatiently Haymor got the servant's attention and repeated the order.

With a nod of the head, the servant made to carry out Lord Haymor's commands. Yet Ollic realized that his work was slow and the result clumsy.

When Lord Haymor was done connecting the chain and saw his servant's handiwork, he had to entirely redo it.

Ollic rolled his eyes in frustration. He was getting anxious. They had to hurry.

Lord Haymor completed the job quickly however, and with no difficulty. When it was done, Lord Haymor grinned at him, and nodded, telling him to start.

Just like he had in the dungeons, Ollic outstretched his hand, closed his eyes, and began to murmur incomprehensibly. At the same time, Haymor began to whip the horses, urging them forward. The chain went taut, and the horses strained.

"Come on," Lord Haymor muttered under his breath, "come on!"

They remained thus for at least two minutes. Sweat dripped from the horse's slick fur, and beaded out on Ollic's forehead.

Everyone waited.

Nobody noticed as the servant inconspicuously slipped away, into the night.

CRACK

Everyone jumped.

The grate was coming loose from the wall. The prisoners practically cheered, but were quickly hushed by Chloe. With renewed enthusiasm, Ollic pushed forward, his murmurings getting louder. The horses, feeling the give in the wall, pulled all the harder.

The grate came free with a loud snap, and lots of flying debris.

Slapping each other on the back, the prisoners dashed out of the tunnel into the cold night, clapping and cheering despite Ollic's desperate attempt to quiet them.

It was then that he heard a cold voice.

"Well, I had thought that something like this might happen."

Ollic spun around, trying to find the source of the voice. It didn't seem to have come from any of the prisoners. They had stopped their cheers and were looking around in fear.

"But I must say, I didn't really expect so many." The voice continued.

Ollic had found the speaker before he had even finished his sentence.

It was a Knight in full battle armor, and surrounding him were at least forty men.

Ollic's heart sank. They had been so close.

Ollic didn't let any of his fear show however, keeping his face completely expressionless, on the verge of cocky.

"Your men are useless Knight," Ollic said boldly, praying that the man didn't see through his mask, "What chance stand your men against fifteen sorcerers, any one of whom could kill you with a blink of an eye."

The Knight shook his head condescendingly, "It won't work, Ollic."

Ollic sucked in his breath sharply. How did this man know his name?

The Knight continued, "Now, you can either come peacefully and be burned alive tomorrow morning, or you can pointlessly resist, and die tonight. Your choice."

Ollic lifted his head proudly.

"I would never be so cowardly as to surrender!" He said stubbornly, "Bring your best Sir Knight, you're going to need it."

The Knight smiled unpleasantly, "I had rather hoped you would say that."

Ollic sensed the arrow flying towards his heart a moment before he saw it. He dove to the side, the arrow just grazing his arm. It still hurt. Ollic gritted his teeth.

The forty men were charging the few sorcerers now, roaring battle cries.

The sorcerers screamed and dodged, but it was hopeless. Most of them weren't sorcerers at all, having been sentenced on false charges. The others were mostly healers, who were completely harmless, even when their lives were in danger.

They were helpless.

The only person with a suitable weapon was Lord Haymor, who desperately flung himself at various opponents. He was proving himself quite dangerous.

A man cockily charged Chloe, who had just pulled the little girl away from a sword stroke.

Cold fear shot up Ollic's spine, running through his entire being, freezing him up. Chloe was about to die!

A hot knot formed in Ollic's chest, burning inside him, voicelessly screaming to come out. Of its own volition, Ollic's hand raised, his mouth opened, and words he did not know came flooding out.

A surge of energy pulsed out from his hand, hitting the man square in the chest and sending him flying backwards until he hit the castle wall with an ugly cracking sound.

Ollic shuddered and hit the ground hard, exhausted.

The ten year old girl Chloe had rescued screamed in outrage and fear as her father was stabbed in his shoulder and crumpled to the ground. Her cry turned desperate, and the men surrounding her father flew backwards, and landed unconscious.

Ollic struggled to his feet.

This fight was hopeless, he had known that even before it had started, but these innocent people were being butchered.

They weren't going to make it. If only he could get Chloe and the small children to safety.

Ollic felt as if a black hand had closed over his heart as he heard a soft, strangled gasp from Chloe behind him.

Terrified of what he might find, and dread descending upon him, Ollic turned around.

The Black Hand around his heart tore it out.

Chloe stood doubled over, gasping, while an arrow protruded from her chest.

Ollic cried out in grief and fear.

The rest was a blur.

Arrows flew in the air like rain around him, but he didn't care. What mattered anymore?

He had tried to drag Chloe away, into the forest, but five men blocked his way. At least, they did for a moment. He could never remember what had happened to them.

The ten year old had run away, dragging her injured father behind her.

She made it out alive.

Chloe did not.

...

Author's note: Once again, I would like to thank: Notquitebezerk, Ebonyice, 1, Falling Down The Stairs, Ruby890, Eclipseoftheheart17, Wisegirl24256, Castwomanswrath, Cwam, Emachinescat, Suzie, Lilyplusjamesistotallove, Whirlwind421, llLethell, Merlin Fan, Nykskyblue, Rawr52, Ariacle, Coby, Katherine Moonhawk, and Micro Chibi Baka San, Ringo's imaginarycat, TaintedXIllusion, 104Arianna, and Imperial Mint!

Cheers!

TTT