Disclaimer: No, as sad a fact as it may be, and as horribly stricken you guys may feel over the fact… *Takes deep breath* you may want to sit down. You see… I don't- I… well you see… I don't… I DON'T OWN MERLIN! Ahhh there! I have said it! I feel so much better now!
Author's Note: Hey everyone! Okay, well I lied. I said that this was going to be a short chapter, but it kinda got away from me.
Nevertheless, I am ridiculously pleased about the chapter though- whether it deserves it or not. I had a lot of fun writing it and I do hope that you may get to have half as fun a time reading it!
Cheers!
TTT
Chapter 11
Morgana threw her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing lightly against the cold stone floor. It was dark in her room, so dark. The full moon shining through her window did nothing to keep the darkness at bay.
Because the darkness was in her head.
She wrapped her arms about herself, and tried to calm herself down. She couldn't stop crying.
Morgana's heart was pounding rapidly in her chest, yet it did nothing to warm her. A cold feeling was creeping into her soul, climbing up her back, leeching away at the warmth.
She had seen herself die again in her dreams.
She did not want to, but death did not listen to her pleas. It was coming closer, Morgana could feel it.
Her time was running out.
Morgana shivered convulsively, and pulled her legs back to the relative safety of her bed, wrapping her arms about her knees.
She had seen the fire rushing towards her, threatening to engulf her thin frame, but there was nothing she could do. It was going to happen, she could not stop it nor dissuade it. No one could.
But what scared her most, was that she sometimes thought that it might be time, that maybe, just maybe it would just be easier that way. For at least it would stop the pain.
She was scared, but that was not the only emotion raging through her mind. The most prominent one was a feeling that had been haunting her for days, and it wouldn't let her go.
She had killed her friend, her brother. She had murdered Arthur.
Morgana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut the memory out.
Guilt was a leaden weight in her chest, worse than the fear of her dying, worse than the encroaching darkness.
She had let Morgause kill Arthur, and she hated herself for it.
The only sound in the room was her panicked breathing, sending ragged gasps into the stillness.
She dreaded waking up in the morning, having to face herself. She dreaded going to sleep at night knowing the dreams that would haunt her.
Morgana was miserable.
All that was left to her now was her hatred. Her hatred for Uther, and even more intense, her hatred for Merlin.
Morgana clung to that now, having nothing left to hold onto. Nothing left to treasure.
She was on her own.
Time passed thus, the moonlight on her floor slowly edging along as her breathing slowly eased and her knotted muscles slowly loosened.
Morgana's head turned as she looked between the curtains framing her window to the slight fragment of the night sky she could see.
The deed was done, she could not take it back now. Arthur was dead. She would just have to straighten her shoulders and deal with it.
The King's Ward took a shaky breath. That was better.
Morgana lowered her feet back to the smooth stone floor, pushing the pain to the back of her mind. It was still there, like a thorn in her heart, but it wasn't as prevalent.
Quietly, she stood up, pulling the sheet off her bed and wrapping it about her shoulders to ward off the night chill. Wanting to see the sky, Morgana wandered to the window, brushing back the curtains to stare into the starry abyss.
The night was clear, and the heavens beautiful. It was an endless shifting dome, speckled with light and mystery. It went on and on and on. Morgana wanted to be lost in its calming depths, to find respite from her raging emotions.
Morgana didn't find it, she did not find rest, nor peace in the sky. It held no small comfort for her tonight, as it had when she was young.
Morgana was now on her own.
…
Arthur crawled on his chest, keeping his head low and his eyes peeled.
Knee high, wet grass was trampled and crushed under the bodies of the six men as they slid on their bellies toward the southeast castle wall.
Arthur's elbows, knees, and palms were dirt-smeared and wet. Mosquitoes buzzed at his ears, and stuck to the back of his sweaty neck. Arthur irritably swatted them away.
Behind him, he could hear soft grunts as his men crawled through the thorn littered, bug infested, plain.
A slight breeze stirred the night air, lightly brushing at Arthur's hair.
A hundred meters ahead of them, Arthur saw guards patrolling on the balustrades, crossbows in hand and swords at hip.
Bright lanterns illuminated the men, glinting off their helmets and plated armor.
Those lanterns, Arthur knew, would be both a blessing and curse.
The guards' eyes would be adjusted to their light, so they would be mostly blinded to what to happening in the field beyond the wall, seeing only vague shadows in the hazy darkness.
Upon reaching the top of the wall, however, those same lanterns would leave Arthur and his men entirely exposed to the rest of the castle, like flies stuck on a wall.
They would have to move quickly. Very quickly.
For as far as Arthur could see it, climbing the wall was their only way in, as they couldn't enter through the gate at night without killing the guards and alerting half the kingdom in the process.
He had chosen the spot they would ascend by grappling hook very carefully, wanting to be as close to Lord Haymor's chambers as possible. He didn't want any unnecessary time wasted wandering around the castle hallways, visible to any eye that cared to look.
The soldiers that circulated the balustrades marched by the southeast wall roughly every three minutes, eyes alert and probing. Their ascent up the wall would have to be timed perfectly.
There would certainly be no time to stop and smell the roses, that was for sure.
Arthur himself wasn't entirely certain he could get him and his men up and over the wall in that short amount of time, but they had to try, and they had to keep a positive attitude, for considering the prospect of defeat was to set oneself up for failure.
'We will make it,' Arthur told himself determinedly, 'We have to.'
The wall was looming right above them now, casting Arthur and the knights into the even darker darkness of its shadow.
With the moment they had been working for so close, Arthur felt his stomach do a half summersault in anticipation and nervousness.
It was time, it was time to kill the sorcerer, or die trying. For if they failed, all of Camelot would fall.
Nothing could stop them now, nothing could detour them from their purpose, for they had their hearts and lives set on it.
Arthur crawled until he could have almost touched the wall with his outstretched hand, and until he was certain they would not be spotted from the soldiers' vantage point on the wall above.
He slowly pushed himself up onto his knees, and then even more slowly, inching to make no sound, climbed up onto his feet, his mud-stained trousers sticking uncomfortably to his knees.
He signaled to his knights, motioning for them to stand but to stay still.
The castle wall towered into the air, like a black monster looming over them, sprung tight to catch them in its unbreakable grasp.
Arthur could hear his heart rhythmically pounding in his ears, the rapid drum of a man running on too much adrenaline.
Arthur heard the sound before a battle; it was the drum he heard before he was going to be fighting for his life and for the lives of his comrades.
He was accustomed to the noise, and oddly, it brought a small comfort to Arthur, for it brought a sense of normality to the situation.
As his men clamored to their feet, Sir Allen stifled an unexpected sneeze, the pollen tossed into the air from the long grass proving to be too much. Arthur winced as if forcibly slapped as the poorly muffled sound barked through the quiet night air.
The sound seemed to echo off the walls, bouncing and repeating itself over and over again, shattering the peace of the evening. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to shut it out, consoling himself with the knowledge that he would make Sir Allen pay later.
No one moved, even as the echo faded away, and the stillness that only comes with an autumn night, returned.
Far away, Arthur could hear the steady clang of metal boots on stone as the guards paraded around the walls. The boots' pace had not been broken, nor quickened in haste.
As the gentle chirping of crickets filled the air, and as the seconds grudgingly ticked by, Arthur slowly let out his pent-up breath, wary of letting relief take hold of him too quickly.
On the balustrade above, the distinctive clank of the guards as they passed by the shadowed group of invaders and continued on their way speechlessly, caused more than just Arthur's shoulders to slump shamelessly in relief.
There were whispered exclamations of relief, and more than a few sharp chastisements with the unfortunate Sir Allen on the receiving end.
Arthur stilled them with a quick wave of his hand. With the danger out of the way, and nothing bad to come from it, Arthur saw no reason to scold a Knight for a poorly timed deed he had no control over.
Besides, he looked embarrassed enough to put a thoroughly scorned dog to shame. With his slumped shoulders and wounded eyes, Sir Allen most certainly looked the part.
Sighing and rolling his shoulders to release the tension, Arthur motioned for Norum to pass him the grappling hook.
As his men saw the motion, they instantly sobered, lifting their heads as they stared at the wall above them.
It really was time to go.
They had three minutes, their time starting as soon as the guards circled around their hiding place once more.
Already, they could hear the heavy footsteps beginning to increase in volume as the soldiers came back their way.
Their prince turned towards them, looking each of them in the eye. He didn't say anything, he had spent from dawn that morning until the point where they began crawling towards the walls briefing them on what to do. He had overstressed it, determined to drive their individual duties home.
So now he just looked at them, knowing that it may be the last time they all stood in the same place together. None of them were naïve enough to believe that they would all come out of this alive, for they were all well seasoned warriors, and they knew the risk. Some of them were going to die.
Yet as they looked into their Prince's eyes, they all knew that it was worth it. It was for him, their future King, and it was for Camelot.
Arthur sent a brief nod in their direction, letting a sad smile touch the corners of his mouth.
He was proud of them.
The moment was broken as the drumming footsteps of the guards clanked on the rough stone above them.
They were very close.
Arthur turned around and shifted his grip on the grappling hook, lightly holding the hook in his right hand, and the thin coil of rope in his left. The rope was soft, but had enough of a grip to it to be able to climb up easily.
As the soldiers passed directly over them, only their black silhouettes visible in the glare of the lanterns, Arthur mentally began counting backwards from eight, knowing that when he reached zero the guards would turn the bend on the wall, and become more or less out of sight.
Arthur had watched the guards' progress that morning, memorizing their habits and schedules, for the timing of this climb had to be perfect.
'8… 7… 6…'Arthur began, his gut beginning to twist. He slowly started twirling the grappling hook, stepping slightly back through the tangled grass, measuring his throw.
He could see as the soldiers on patrol moved out of the most prominent glare of a lantern, clanking onto one of the rare circles of darkness, before walking back into the glow of yet another radiant light.
'5… 4… 3…' Behind him, Arthur sensed his men getting closer, their bodies sprung tight, ready for the grueling display of strength that would be required of them any moment.
Arthur spun the hook faster, emitting a low hum whirring through the chilled night.
'2… 1…'Arthur's heart lurched.
'Zero'.
The clawed hook left Arthur's grasp just as the guards stiffly turned the bend, unaware of the small but determined band of enemies just out of their sight.
Even as the hook shot into the air, Arthur knew it was a throw to be proud of. It perfectly arched over the wall, neither going too high to make unnecessary noise, or too low to clang graceless against the bulwarks and fall back to the ground.
As it landed, it made a low scraping sound, catching between the parapet and the crenellations.
Arthur yanked twice, testing its stability, and then without wasting another second, he grabbed the rope with both hands and swung his feet against the wall, bracing himself.
Lifting one hand above the other, Arthur steadily began to climb, his well soled boots fitting into the slight crevices in the outer stones of the wall.
Behind him, his men began following suit, praying that the hook would hold.
"One, two, three," Arthur gritted out between his teeth, as they began their painstaking journey to the top.
They had three minutes, and they had to make every second count.
….
In the very castle Arthur was at this very moment storming, a certain King twisted and turned in his sleep, haunted by dreams of a raven-headed boy.
In the uncertain land floating between consciousness and dreams, Cenred drifted, but even in his semiconscious state, his mind was working overtime.
That face! That elfin face with a pale complexion and large ears… He had seen it before, Cenred was certain of it. But where?
His mind sifted through his memories, discarding face after face that had appeared in his life in no specific order, but in a brilliant whirling mass of visions and flashbacks that would have overwhelmed anyone who was not in this magical state of half consciousness.
Different places, people and scenes from his life showed themselves behind his closed eyelids, before he unceremoniously threw them out and grasped for new ones.
No, not it, no, no, no, NO!
Cenred angrily tossed over in his sleep, his arm flying across his face.
That wasn't it!
The unfortunate servant chosen to stand in waiting that night shifted uncomfortably in his stationed corner, dreading the king waking up in this angry state. That would not fare well for him if he did.
Unhappily, the servant grumbled under his breath at his ill fated luck at being stuck to wait on the king's beck and call on the very night his master decided to become ill-tempered. It wasn't fair!
The servant guiltily started and held his breath as his king groaned and flipped over a second time, griping in his sleep.
Determined to not wake his king, and concerned for his personal safety, the servant stubbornly refused to take another breath until his master had settled.
He waited a very long time.
Unaware of his servant's predicament, Cenred continued his relentless search, making an oath to himself that he would find out the identity of that tall, high cheek-boned boy.
This was important, he could sense it. Why couldn't the blasted face show itself? He needed to find it, there was an urgency to the situation Cenred didn't entirely understand, but felt with some sixth sense.
That boy was not just important, but crucial, and Cenred's body quivered as he flipped over, slamming a clenched fist into his fluffed pillows.
He needed to know who he was, and now!
As if acquiescing to his angry demands, a chord deep within his memory snapped back into place, and he could sense a time from the past beckoning at him, calling out to him.
Intrigued, Cenred locked onto the hazy vision, giving it a turn to swarm before his eyes.
It was a scene from the time he had captured Prince Arthur and his party.
This memory lifted his spirits slightly, as he remembered the feeling of victory and pride that day had brought.
His pleased emotion morphed into one of mindless delight as he saw the slight blonde figure of Morgause standing beside him.
In his dream, Cenred grinned lazily, puffing out his chest, doing his best to look handsome for her.
Ohhhh, what a beautiful queen she would make.
He continued his primping and preening as he looked down the line of captives, taking their horrified faces in with glee.
He liked this dream, so much happiness in so little time.
As his eyes roamed past the stage acting face of Morgana, his gaze landed on the next person in line.
He had raven hair, high cheekbones, an elfin face, and pathetically large ears. Hmmm. Not much to look at.
He switched his love-blinded gaze back to the jaw-droppingly beautiful face of Morgause, standing graceful and erect.
Her blonde hair framed her face in such a complementary way, and draped across her shoulders as if framed that way. The warm light cast her face into soft shadows, bringing out all her best features.
Cenred sighed in contentment, smiling like an idiot at her.
In the back of his mind, Cenred felt as if he was missing something, something important.
But whatever it was he didn't care, and he was sure it could wait. It would have to, for right now, Morgause's beauty surpassed all else's by such an unexaggerated extent, it would be a crime to let it go to waste.
Yet the feeling continued to torment him- like an itch.
It wouldn't go away, and to his annoyance, it distracted him from the unearthly beauty of Morgause.
Frowning, Cenred stubbornly continued to stare at the woman on whom all his enamored affections were lost.
Big ears. The boy in the line had big ears… Who else had big ears?
Rolling his eyes, Cenred firmly told himself to drop it. It didn't matter.
And the elfin face, surely he had seen that before? 'Shut up,'Cenred gritted between his teeth.
Raven hair… He had seen that before.
Cenred's gaze flew to the boy at the end of the line, Morgause temporarily forgotten.
He was the servant from the feast! Wait a minute… that was…
"MERLIN!" Cenred bolted upright in bed, ripping his entangled sheets off his legs in the same motion.
His angry gaze locked onto the slightly blue face of a servant in his corner.
"Find him! Kill him! He is Prince Arthur's manservant!" He yelled, leaping out of bed, "Wake the officers, the nobles, EVERYONE! Kill Merlin!"
The terrified servant bobbed his head and hurried for the door.
"Not yet you idiot, you must get me my robe!" Cenred demanded angrily, gesturing at the garment folded neatly less than a foot away on his bedside table.
The servant seemed to wilt under his lord's angry but disoriented demands, and fumbled clumsily in his blind haste to carry them out.
He kept his head down as he hurried to his master's side, lifting up the robe and shaking it out.
The king looked regal and stretched his arms out to either side of him, staring disdainfully at the new servant.
"Hurry up!" Cenred barked irritably, "Do you have no brains? You must warn the officers!"
Now flustered beyond recovery, and unsure of what to do, the servant hurriedly draped the robe gracelessly over one of Cenred's outstretched arms, completely missing the King's infuriated look in his hasty bow.
"Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?" the servant squeaked, still bowing deep.
"You're fired!" Cenred barked, unable to withhold his anger any longer as he stared at the idiotic face of the servant.
The servant almost looked relieved- how odd.
"Yes, Your Majesty," he said meekly, and began backing out.
"Not yet, you brainless worm! Alert the troops! Put the city in lockdown! Find and Kill Merlin!" Cenred screeched, fumbling with his own robe.
…
Arthur's fingers curled around the top edge of the wall, and he forced the protesting muscles in his back, shoulders and arms to haul himself upward one last time.
His footing between the cracks in the wall became precarious as he strained, as his hands were no longer holding onto the rope, but the rough stones themselves.
He was hanging from the wall merely by his fingertips and toes, both of which were threatening to commit mutiny, so Arthur tried not to think of the sickening drop that awaited him if they gave out.
He prided himself with a good head for heights, but he knew with a vivid clarity that if he looked at the ground a dizzying distance away, even his courage may desert him.
Staring pointedly upward, Arthur concentrated on lifting his left foot up just a couple more inches, simply so he could get a better grip on the top of the wall.
His foot cautiously left the small crevice in the wall, his toes looking franticly for another hold as he felt his right foot shift with the accumulated weight.
Instinctively Arthur tried to ease the weight on his toes, and he felt his fingertips grow white with the strain of holding almost his entire bodyweight as his left foot searched desperately for some small hold.
They didn't have time for this! Arthur had been counting meticulously throughout the grueling climb, and they had only 40 seconds left for all of them to reach the top and find cover.
Frustrated and desperate, Arthur threw caution to the wind and dumped all his weight onto his right foot, which was valiantly still clutching the wall. Arthur now bent his knee, feeling his muscles tense in anticipation, and pushed off with his toes, putting all his effort into one last leap.
He knew if he missed it, he would fall.
The crevice Arthur had been standing on cracked, the debris and dust falling on his men below, but he was already in the air, his body rolling as his shoulder hit the parapet, so his feet could land solidly on the ground.
His soled boots hit the ground lightly and Arthur immediately ducked into a half squat, not wanting to risk discovery from the courtyard below.
The light of the lantern hanging directly above them illuminated everything in the vicinity, and Arthur felt horribly exposed.
He could hear Sir Allen climbing into the exact same position he had just left, and knowing the predicament he would face, Arthur took the risk and stood, leaning over the parapet to grab Allen's forearm.
As Allen saw his Prince's face looming over him, he felt a jolt of relief, for he was the largest of the Knights and he wasn't sure he would be able to nimbly hop over the wall as Arthur had done.
Placing his toes in the same crevice that had cracked slightly under Arthur's weight, Sir Allen clasped the top of the wall and jumped for all he was worth, while Arthur hauled him up by his forearm from above.
The strength they both put into the throw far exceeded what was needed, and Sir Allen went sailing up and over the wall, gracelessly hitting the ground hands first, with a muted 'thud'.
From where he lay, Sir Allen groaned softly, slowly peeling what was left of his face off the ground and staggered to his feet, muttering under his breath about bad bones.
When he was finally able to look up, he saw with some relief that Arthur had already hauled all of the knights over the wall except Sir Norum.
It was then that the warning bell rang.
Its clear, crystal tunes cut through the quiet night like a knife, shattering the peace and turning Arthur's stomach upside down.
Had they been seen? He had thought they still had twenty seconds. Unnerved, Arthur swung around, reaching for his sword, his keen senses searching out an enemy.
At each of the four corners of the castle walls stood a guard tower, looming protectively over the battlements.
They were now standing dangerously close to one of those very towers, and Arthur could hear men rushing about inside, arming themselves. Any second, dozens of men would come storming out of the small door leading from the tower to the wall, brandishing crossbows and swords.
They needed to get off this wall, now. The castle was waking up. Arthur could see candles being lit in windows, and saw a thin line of soldiers marching across the far end of the courtyard.
The prince couldn't fathom what had triggered the alarm, but he was sure it wasn't them, so it was still possible for them to navigate the castle if they could just stay out of sight.
Casting his eyes about for a way to escape, Arthur's gaze alighted on the stone stairway leading to the shadowed courtyard below.
That was their best chance, for once in the courtyard, Arthur was certain they would find a temporary place to hide.
Arthur quickly motioned for his men to follow him, sprinting to the staircase just meters away. The shouts from the tower were increasing in volume and enthusiasm.
Arthur had gone no more than a couple paces toward the stairway when he stopped in his tracks. Norum was still hanging from the wall!
Motioning for his knights to continue on without him, Arthur ran back to the parapet, peering over the wall at Norum who was desperately clutching the top of the wall with his fingertips.
The crevice between the rocks Arthur had stood upon had long since worn away, giving Sir Norum practically nothing to hold onto.
"Run Sire!" Norum cried out, fingertips turning white, "You have to get off the wall or they will catch both of us!"
The bell was ringing loudly in Arthur's ears, so he didn't notice the first two guards return from their patrol until it was too late.
He faintly heard a sword slither from its sheath behind him, and some instinct recognized the sound and warned him to duck.
Arthur dropped to his knees, a glinting sword slashing just inches over his head, and a frustrated outcry sounding out from the soldier who had missed.
From the ground, Arthur swung his legs around, chopping the soldier's feet out from under him.
The man wind-milled his arms and went toppling to the ground.
Arthur leapt to his feet, unsheathing his sword and simultaneously placing it in guard position just as the second man dove at him.
The soldier was an amateur and as far as Arthur could see, very young. Easily sidestepping the stroke, Arthur grabbed the man's wrist and placed his right foot behind the man's legs. Arthur gave the man a shove, effectively tripping him.
The first guard had regained his balance and slashed at Arthur's head once more. The prince lifted his sword just in time to intercept the stroke and the sound of steel scraping on steel filled the air.
The guard dove again and Arthur parried, slashing backhanded at the man, driving him back with stroke after stroke, knowing the necessity of getting himself and Norum off the wall as soon as possible.
Unbeknownst to Arthur, the younger of the two men had quietly climbed back to his feet, sword in hand, staring at Arthur's exposed back.
The boy had a moment of hesitation, however, for he had been trained to fight honorably and the thought of killing a man when his back was turned revolted him.
Unsure of himself, the young soldier looked at his sword, and he frowned. The boy began to panic as he saw his comrade being overridden by this new blonde haired invader, and he quickly came to a decision.
Stepping forward, the soldier lifted the sword over his head, gripping the handle tightly to keep it from shaking. The young man was scared, and his fear made him clumsy, so as he stepped forward for the killing stroke, his metal boot scraped against the stone ground, emitting a slight grating sound.
Arthur, now alerted to the presence of the young soldier behind him, rapidly spun around, blocking the clumsy thrust at his heart with ease.
Arthur retaliated, striking out at the soldier with terrifying skill, driving him back, but this time keeping the elder one behind him well within his sight.
As the young man was pushed back, his sword began to shake from the force of Arthur's blows, but his face had a determined edge to it that impressed the Prince.
He knew that the kid must have been behind him for quite some time while he carelessly battered the old soldier, so the boy must have had the opportunity to kill him, yet he'd hesitated.
Arthur purposely entangled their blades, and with a quick downward shove and a flick of his wrist, disarmed the young soldier, who then desperately retaliated with a quick punch at Arthur's face.
Arthur moved his face slightly to the side and the fist passed harmlessly by next to his ear. In a move Arthur had practiced more times than he could remember, his hand shot up and grabbed the younger man's wrist, twisting his arm behind his back.
The man struggled franticly, doing his best to wriggle out of Arthur's iron grasp, but as he realized that it was hopeless, he sagged, awaiting the death he knew was coming.
Arthur quietly spoke into his ear.
"You didn't want to kill me when my back was turned, and that makes you one of two things. You are either a coward, or a man of incredible honor," Arthur paused, and leaned back, thoughtfully handling his sword, and then added in a softer voice, "And I know you are no coward."
With that, Arthur lifted his sword into the air and brought the hilt firmly down onto the young soldier's head, knocking him out cold.
Arthur looked over his handiwork with satisfaction, and decided that he should use the move he had copied from Sir Allen more often.
A patient cough from Sir Norum brought Arthur back to reality.
"Sire…" Norum called out from behind him, an odd edge to his voice that caused Arthur to look behind him.
The older soldier stood over Sir Norum, who was helplessly still clutching the wall, as the man raised his sword.
Arthur sprang forward, diving for the man who was bringing the deadly weapon down on his friend.
When the sword was just inches from Norum's exposed head, Arthur's blade pierced deep into the old soldier's heart.
The soldier gasped in surprise and pain, and breathed his last, crumpling lifelessly to the ground.
It was at this moment that the men in the tower now chose to come bursting onto the wall, storming from the small but sturdy door built into the tower.
Arthur's stomach twisted and he held back a sigh. Their time was up. All that was left to do now was buy some time, not much, just enough for Arthur to find a way to salvage what was left of their mission or at the very least, find a way to escape.
When the group saw Arthur and Norum less than ten meters away, the company came to an abrupt halt and grunted in surprise, staring at them like some sort of weird bug that didn't belong.
Arthur casually smiled, leaning sideways against the low stone parapet while simultaneously dropping his hand to Norum's forearm.
When Arthur decided to run for it, he wanted to be ready.
Arthur waved his free hand in greeting, hoping that maybe he could bluster his way through this unpleasant situation, "Hello there!" He called amiably, "How are you fellows?"
The obvious leader of the group's eyes quickly took in the soldiers lying at Arthur's feet and then the two intruders, one of which was clutched to the side of the outer wall.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened.
The leader motioned for a few of his men to block the stairs, cutting off the invaders' exit.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" The man asked directly, looking Arthur coldly in the eye.
"Well," Arthur began, his eyes watching the men, but Norum interrupted him.
"My good sir, as you can see, we are owl handlers," Norum stated matter-of-factly, still clutching to the wall.
The leader turned his cold gaze on him, slightly raising his eyebrows.
"Indeed," the man said crisply, "Then I am afraid our good kingdom will have two less owl handlers when the sun rises."
The man motioned for his men to begin advancing upon them.
Arthur's free hand moved casually behind his back, grasping the grappling hook.
"Oh, that will be a shame," Norum said sadly, mockingly feigning ignorance after a quick decision to play the fool once more, "Do I know them? I probably do considering I am very popular, and I have been told, the greatest owl handler in this kingdom and beyond. It must be my charm, owls just love me… which I am very pleased about, because I happen to be quite fond of them, and their feathers, oh I do love feathers, especially orange ones, which is very unfortunate, for this area is severely lacking feathers of such a beautiful shade. Sometimes, I think I may have been better off to take pleasure in something other than orange feathers, oh you know, like salad bowls for example… no, no, on second thought, that would be ridiculous! I would be disgraced from my family! My cousin loves the salad bowls! I cannot love them too, for that would not go over well with him. We guard our hobbies very jealously you know. No, I think that it is my destiny to be plagued with loving orange feathers, for all the other interesting hobbies are taken-"
"Silence you idiot!" The leader demanded irritably, and turned his head over his shoulder to address his men, "These fools are useless to us, just kill them, they have wasted enough of my time already."
With a throaty war cry, the twenty men charged, swords brandished and glinting in the light of a swaying lantern.
Arthur's muscles tensed. Time to run.
"Jump!" Arthur ordered Norum, who didn't waste a second.
Norum leaped upward with all he had, Arthur hauling him over the wall by his forearm, and simultaneously reeling up the grappling hook.
Norum clumsily clattered over the wall, and Arthur half dragged, half carried him to the edge of the wall facing the courtyard.
It was only a couple steps, but to Arthur it felt like an eternity, for he could see the men advancing, and they were so close now.
Picking Norum up by the waist, Arthur ignored his indignant cry of outrage, and hooked the grappling hook to the parapet now facing him.
Then the soldiers were upon them, and Arthur ducked as a sword whistled by his cheek and dodged as another slash was aimed at Norum.
Arthur was about to do something recklessly foolish, but he didn't care. The chances of this actually working were frighteningly low, but the chance of them surviving up here with these bloodthirsty guards was even lower.
Holding tightly onto the rope attached to the hook, he evaded a second sword stroke and, forgetting to take a preparatory breath in his haste, jumped over the wall, diving into the courtyard with a terrified Sir Norum's angry outcries ringing in his ears.
Arthur's gut clenched and rolled as he freefell off the wall with nothing but a length of rope in his hand, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the unfamiliar feeling. The rope abruptly became taut, sending a jarring feeling up Arthur's arms, and the fall turned into a sharp swing.
Even with the rope to break his fall, the ground was still rushing towards him at an alarming rate, and Arthur braced himself for a hard landing, bending his knees and rolling himself into as much of a ball as he could manage while holding Norum.
The feeling as Arthur slammed into the ground was sickening.
His body felt crushed under an unforgiving weight, and he dimly realized that he was on his back, skidding across the courtyard's cobblestones.
His body felt as if it was on fire, and his eyes wouldn't open. He noticed he was no longer carrying Norum, and hoped he hadn't dropped him.
He felt himself grind to a halt, and distantly noticed the drumming footsteps of the soldiers running in pursuit of him down the wall's steps.
Why wouldn't his blasted eyes open?
"Sire!" Arthur heard his title shouted, noticing the deep concern in the voice that spoke, and for a second believed that it was Merlin. Then he felt the strength of the arms that grasped him and immediately dismissed the thought. The arms were gently shaking his shoulders.
"In the name of all that's good and merciful Sire, please tell me you're alright!"
Unbidden, Arthur felt his arm wave in acknowledgement, and heard himself idiotically proclaim that he had never felt better.
Now what had possessed him to say that? He felt terrible, and the lovely black thing swarming towards him looked very inviting.
He felt arms hauling him into the air, and an odd whooshing feeling as he was thrown over a bony shoulder.
He felt distantly offended, wishing that whoever had decided to lug him around like a sack of potatoes would kindly put him down. It was embarrassing! Not to mention beneath his dignity.
A bell ringing loudly on the outskirts of his consciousness began to loll him into a state of semi-consciousness.
He felt the man carrying him start to run, his heavy footsteps jolting through Arthur's body.
Voices swarmed in and out, annoyingly keeping him from a full blackout. Arthur could hear shouting in the distance, or was it nearby? It was impossible to tell, hanging upside-down as he was from a useless, hopping knight.
He felt himself swing to the right as the idiot abruptly slid to the left.
More shouting, why was everybody shouting?
He heard the smooth sound of a sword gliding out of its sheath, and then the blessed blackness swarmed in, cutting off further thought.
…
Cal awkwardly threw his arm through the sleeve of his jacket while simultaneously attempting to buckle on his sword.
The warning bell had awoken him, sending him instinctively leaping out of bed, his training taking over.
He now glanced over his shoulder as he heard the outside of his door rapped sharply.
"Oh very well," Cal drawled, in mock exasperation, "Come in."
The door creaked open, admitting the nervous head of a young servant.
"My- my Master the King has ordered the arrest and execution of a male servant by the name of Merlin."
Cal's sword slipped from his hand, clattering against the stone floor.
The servant saw the horrified look on the captain's face and hurried on, "I uhh, don't really know why, but he was frustrated something awful when he awoke, and screamed for the servant's head on a silver platter…" The boy trailed off, looking green.
Cal noticed the openly aghast expression on his own face, and quickly fought to regain control of himself, replacing the sickened look with the one of laidback ease he was famous for.
"Won't that be a pleasant sight," Cal said lightly, leaning down to regain his sword, "Am I correct in believing that I am to report to the guardhouse to receive my personal orders?"
The boy hurriedly nodded his head, "Oh yes Sir! Some men are already ready for your leadership."
Cal leaned forward, lifting his knee slightly to pull on his last boot.
"Isn't that swell," he muttered to himself.
…...
Cal walked down the dark corridor towards the guardroom.
The hall was almost entirely deserted save for a few fearful servants huddled together in dark corners, gossiping among themselves as to the reason for the alarm.
The sound of metal boots pounding up the hallway caught Cal's attention, as he had yet to encounter another soldier.
"Captain!" The lieutenant leading the group called out, coming to attention, "Do you have any news on the servant?"
Cal opened his mouth to state that he did not when he stopped himself.
Why should he let them know that? He didn't want them to find Merlin. So why not help the kid out a bit? It might even be entertaining.
"Why, yes I have!" Cal replied, putting an urgent note into his voice, and remembered that Merlin resided in the southeast wing of the castle, "He is in the northwest tower! Hurry! Off with you before he escapes!"
The guards snapped smartly to attention and bustled off, determined and resolute to capture the nonexistent intruder.
Cal smiled to himself as they dashed away.
That was pathetically easy.
He craved a challenge.
Behind him, a lone soldier came running up.
"Captain, I saw you send those men off. Please tell me you know where this evasive servant lives!"
Cal nodded his head, and put on a superior air.
"Yes, yes indeed I do," Cal said sagely, "To my infinite knowledge, the servant is currently in the dungeons! At least he knows where his ultimate destination will be and is saving us the time of getting him there. Go on… kill him! That's a good fellow."
The soldier drew his sword and saluted the Captain.
"Yes Sir!"
The man called to a few of his friends and they all tromped down a flight of stairs to Cal's left, toward the dungeons.
Cal grinned. Oh, he did so love his rank.
A group of bleary-eyed soldiers were drawn by the commotion. More than likely they had just rolled out of bed.
Perfect targets.
"Ahh, good!" Cal said with a relieved sigh, "I needed someone! The servant is raiding the royal treasury! If you find him, you will receive an earldom! Tell everyone you see!"
The men's faces took on a greedy tint, their exhaustion falling away from them as if it had never been and they raced off, clamoring to be first to apprehend the rogue servant.
Cheerfully, Cal continued on down the corridor, whistling a happy tune and calling out random directions, doing his very best to sow as much chaos as he possibly could.
"He is assassinating the King!" He yelled out to a large group of drunken soldiers.
With a roar, they ran to his left.
"No, wait! He is kidnapping our cook!"
They stopped, and with a louder roar, stampeded to his right.
Ahh yes, the pleasures of being important.
…
Arthur hazily swam in and out of consciousness, fighting to open his eyes.
Colored flashes danced before his eyelids, putting on a beautiful display of light. Yet Arthur knew they weren't real, he knew he needed to wake up.
Something important was happening, and here he was like a dope being lugged around half asleep.
'Gods Arthur, open your eyes!'
Despite his most valiant efforts, however, his eyes remained stubbornly glued shut.
He still heard voices, mindless murmurs he couldn't make out, tickling his ears and brushing right up against his consciousness, taunting him.
He was rescued from the mocking voices as one in particular got his attention.
"Those are his chambers. Emrys is inside, hopefully asleep."
'Emrys…' Arthur thought blearily, and he knew the name meant something to him.
His eyes flickered, seeing the slightest stab of light through the slit lids.
"What about the Prince? Should we attempt to kill Emrys without him? I am not sure."
'Kill Emrys… Emrys… He's a Sorcerer!'
"I personally don't think he will thank us for that later," a different voice stated, and Arthur recognized it as Sir Norum.
'I most certainly will not!'Arthur thought indignantly, and redoubled his struggle against his renegade eyelids, forcing himself to wake up.
More light filtered through his vision this time, and Arthur took a shaky breath, opening his eyes wider.
He made out that he was in a dark hallway, leaning against a wall with his knights huddled in a tight group motioning at a door beside them.
They were there! They had made it.
Arthur took a deeper breath, his vision clearing once and for all and adrenaline searing into his veins.
Sir Allen turned his head at the sound, and noticed Arthur's return to consciousness for the first time.
"Sire!" He exclaimed, kneeling down next to him, concerned, "How are you feeling?"
Arthur saw the expectant looks his men were sending his way, and straightened his shoulders. They needed a leader, and he was going to give them one.
"Much better, I had a momentary black out is all."
Sir Allen didn't look convinced, and Arthur didn't want to be coddled, so he hurriedly changed the subject.
"Well done men, I see you have found him," The Prince stated unnecessarily.
"Yes, Sire," Sir Kay answered, with a proud smile.
Arthur looked from one face to the next, waiting. Arthur cleared his throat.
"Well then, let us go in shall we?"
Arthur made to stand, but a hand on his chest stopped him.
Sir Allen looked apologetic, but dead serious.
"I am afraid we cannot let you do that, My Lord," He said regretfully, and Arthur stared at him disbelievingly.
Did someone just tell him no?
"You have only just recovered from your fall, and it churns my stomach to think of you in that room with a sorcerer in your current state," Allen said sincerely, and Arthur clamped his jaw.
He was not about to let them bully him into leaving Merlin again.
"I appreciate your concern, but there is no need for it. As I said, I am perfectly alright."
Allen shook his head stubbornly, "Sire, you do not see yourself! You are not in fit condition, and I cannot have your death on my conscience."
"And I cannot have yours!" Arthur shot back, "I am your prince, Sir Allen, it is my duty to lead you. Serving to the death is not something only knights are called upon to do. It is my duty, and I will bear it to the end."
They locked eyes.
Sir Allen looked pleadingly at him, "Sire, please…"
Arthur shook his head firmly, and at the look Allen sent him, suddenly felt a surge of affection for the man.
He was only trying to keep him safe.
But he had a likewise duty to them.
Arthur sighed, and began to stand up. Sir Allen offered him his hand, in a Knight's gesture of peace and comradeship.
Arthur smiled, and clasped it gladly.
…
Arthur slowly edged the door open, trying to stifle the creak as the door swung slowly inward.
He could hear gentle snoring coming from inside.
He stopped the door from opening any further than was necessary and slowly edged inside, motioning for Sir Allen and Sir Kay to follow him.
Inside were three beds.
In two of them lay the sleeping bodies of surprisingly young men, one of which Arthur knew must be Emrys.
He frowned and stared at their faces.
They looked so… Arthur searched for the word- guileless.
'Of course they do,' He told himself firmly, 'They are sorcerers! It is merely an illusion, a trick, to throw people off.'
Arthur's eyes shifted to the third bed, and his heart warmed at the sight.
Sprawled with his arm thrown over the side and his mouth hanging open was his sorely missed manservant.
Merlin mumbled in his sleep, and flipped over, clamping his mouth shut as if he knew Arthur was watching.
Arthur looked back at the two other men. Which one was Emrys? Each of them looked equally harmless.
Arthur shrugged to himself; that problem was easily fixed.
Merlin would know.
Quietly creeping towards the bed, loath to make a sound, Arthur slowly approached.
Even though it had only been a couple of weeks, Merlin looked older, as if it had been months.
Yet the blundering innocence that just seemed to reek off him was still the same. It was still the same old Merlin.
Arthur smiled and dropped down beside him.
He moved his hand to nudge his shoulder, but stopped himself.
This was Merlin he was waking up. Knowing him, he might just scream… like a girl.
Rolling his eyes, Arthur decided he would have to clamp his mouth, just to be on the safe side.
He didn't want his ungainly manservant waking the entire castle in his joy to see him.
Lifting his hand over Merlin's face so it hovered in the air, Arthur stared at his servant's face one more time before waking him up.
He smiled to himself. It really was good to see him again.
Arthur's hand dropped over Merlin's mouth.
Merlin's eyes snapped open.
When he saw the hand grabbing his mouth, he panicked, franticly trying to pry it loose.
"Merlin!" Arthur hissed under his breath, trying to calm the idiot down. He had to admit though, he had surprisingly good reflexes.
Merlin stopped struggling the instant he heard his name.
His head snapped to face him, and his gaze alighted upon his Prince.
His face looked shocked in the most satisfying way.
Arthur slowly lifted his hand away from Merlin's mouth.
"Arthur?" Merlin said disbelievingly, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.
Arthur smiled, and whispered, "My my, hasn't your intelligence improved!"
Merlin's features split into a grin.
"Arthur!" Merlin bolted upright, sitting up in bed, "What are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come and retrieve me!" Merlin admonished, too happy to care.
"And since when did you become the master and I the servant, Merlin?" Arthur asked in the annoyingly smug voice Merlin knew so well.
Oh, he had missed him!
"Last I checked, princes don't get bullied and ordered about by meaningless little idiots, as you seem to believe, lost in your grand daydreams as you are."
Merlin rubbed his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more than before.
Some things never change.
Merlin's grin faltered as a sudden thought struck him.
"Wait, Arthur, you being here is dangerous! If anyone sees you they will kill you! You need to leave right now!"
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"I thought we just established that I'm the one qualified both legally and mentally to be making the orders, MERlin," Arthur whispered back.
Merlin shook his head adamantly, "Arthur you shouldn't be here. Does your father even know you are here? You didn't sneak out, did you?" Merlin stopped, thinking, and then added as a second thought, "No, what am I saying? You always needed me for that! You're too lazy."
Arthur glared at him, but the effect was lost on the bubbly manservant.
Why was everyone concerned for his safety today?
Arthur chose to tactfully ignore the insult- for now.
"Merlin, despite what you may think in your delusions, I am not here to rescue you!"
Merlin smiled at him disbelievingly, "'Course you wouldn't admit it. But you missed me Arthur, I can see it all over your face!"
Arthur shook his head stubbornly, "I did not! I am here on a mission from my father."
"Sure you are," Merlin said giddily, then added, "I really am grateful to you for coming all this way Arthur, but you need to go. You could get hurt!"
Arthur sighed irritably.
Why did he have to be so difficult?
"MERlin," Arthur said, annoyed, "I will be perfectly alright! Besides, I can't go, I have to do something first."
Merlin smiled and pretended to go along with it, "Your mission," Merlin said, bobbing his eyebrows, "And just what is your mission, Arthur?"
Arthur suddenly became serious.
"I am sorry Merlin, but I am afraid you have been lied to."
Merlin gave him his best 'Are you off your knocker?' look.
"What do you mean?"
Arthur motioned to the two sleeping men.
"One of them is an enemy of Camelot, a powerful sorcerer!"
Merlin suddenly became uneasy.
Something wasn't right.
He shook his head.
"No, no, Arthur, I am afraid you are mistaken! Neither of them could hurt a fly!"
'Well, at least not a big fly,' Merlin added as an afterthought to himself, thinking of Bernard.
Arthur looked sympathetic.
"Merlin, I am sorry, but one of them is a sorcerer."
Arthur took a deep breath and sighed.
"Now I really hate to do this Merlin, but please tell me truthfully."
Arthur motioned at the two men, "Which one of these two men is Emrys?"
…
Author's Note: Ha! Another cliffy. I bet you look properly horrified right now. My work here is done.
Well I had a lot of new people review that last chapter, so my list has grown quite a bit!
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