Chapter Eleven

Hello!

I am so sorry for the late update! I had friends over and then I was in town super late and didn't have time to write...but never mind, I'm back now!

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter...I can't quite put my finger on why...But I hope you enjoy it anyway!

There's some blood in this; nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

It was more than interesting.

It was downright terrifying.

And maybe just a little bit of fun.

For Merlin, at least. It had been a long time since he'd been able to use his magic for much else besides speeding up his chores and felling the occasional branch onto a bandit. But that didn't mean that he had forgotten anything; on the contrary, he'd been studying every so often, just in case Morgana came back with another immortal army or some warlord attacked by summoning a horde of restless spirits or another goblin got loose in the castle.

Merlin hadn't expected to be using combative spells against one of the kitchen maids.

"Binne tófléon!" A stack of old tables crashed down to the floor, just missing Elen.

"Wáce ierlic!" The spell missed Merlin as he dodged it, hitting and knocking over an ancient suit of armor instead.

They were actually nearly evenly matched. Unable to make use of his full elemental powers in the confined space of the warehouse (and not daring to do so anyway), Merlin found Elen to be a formidable opponent. She clearly knew exactly what she was doing; and almost ten minutes into the fight, neither of them were gaining any ground.

"Ic te withdraf!"

"Swilte!"

That's when it stopped being fun. Merlin flung up another shield, only just in time to block the killing spell. For him, the goal so far had been to subdue the sorceress and question her about her alleged plans to kill Arthur. But it was clear that she had other plans.

She means to kill me…if she can.

"Forbearnan!" Merlin shouted, summoning a blaze intended to surround Elen.

She managed to elude it, but her headscarf caught on fire. She ripped it off with a yell, her golden hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. "Onbaerne!" she shrieked, turning the flames back at Merlin.

Merlin managed to avoid the flames, ducking behind a stack of old saddles and harnesses as his ears picked up the sound of the town's warning bell. The noise of the duel hadn't gone unnoticed.

I've got to end this before we're both caught.

Leaping out from behind the saddles, Merlin caught sight of the dagger, forgotten on the floor. "Folge min bebeod!" he shouted with a sweeping hand gesture.

The dagger flew up and hurtled through the air, straight into Elen's left side.

Her scream tore to shreds everything that wasn't metal in a twenty foot radius and sent Merlin flying backwards into the nearest wall.

By the time Merlin managed to struggle out of the pile of wreckage he'd been thrown into, Elen was nowhere in sight. But blood dotted the floor in an unmistakable trail.

Merlin followed the splatters out into the streets, where he promptly ran into a group of guards. Arthur was with them.

"Merlin! Where have you been? You're a mess!"

The truth wouldn't do at all, of course, so Merlin said the first thing that came into his head, which unfortunately was, "The tavern."

Instantly he started kicking himself. Arthur rolled his eyes and said resignedly, "The tavern. I should've known." Turning to the silent guards, he commanded, "Check all the streets. Alert me if you find anything." As they marched off, the king turned back to Merlin. "Really, Merlin, I give you a couple hours off and what do you do? You go to the tavern…and get in a fight, by the looks of you. Did someone throw you into a pigsty?"

Merlin shrugged. "What's going on? Why is the warning bell ringing?" As usual, he was being forced to play stupid.

Arthur sighed. "Someone heard what sounded like magical spells being shouted in this neighborhood. Did you see anything suspicious?" When Merlin shook his head, the king continued, "Go back up to the castle and tidy my chambers, idiot."

"Sure thing, prat." What Merlin really wanted to do was find Elen, but he decided that he'd have to pursue that later. If Arthur caught him lurking around, he'd get suspicious, clueless royal or not. So Merlin headed back up to the citadel, thinking furiously, his emotions conflicted.

He wanted to catch Elen and confront her for her nefarious plans.

But he didn't want Arthur to catch her.

He'll execute her, no questions asked.

Somehow Merlin didn't want that to happen.

Gwaine hurried along yet another dark street. Will someone stop that bloody chiming? he wondered disgustedly. The warning bell was still ringing annoyingly. It made his ever-present headache worse.

Plus he was exhausted. He'd stopped taking sleeping draughts, but the nightmares had not relented much. The result was a bad nights sleep, every night.

Also, he'd been dragged from his dinner, which didn't improve his mood any more than his constant anxiety did.

And Gwaine was really not in the mood to hunt down a magic-user.

Grumbling to himself under his breath, Gwaine stopped at a shadowy corner near the front gates of the city. Maybe he'd start heading back to the castle; no one but guards were out here now. Even if there had been a sorcerer making a ruckus in the Lower Town earlier…

Then he heard a sharp, pained gasp from the alley across from him.

Sword out, keeping to the shadows, Gwaine cautiously approached the source of the sound.

A metal blade clattered against the cobblestones, the sound muffled by a agonized curse. In the light of the newly risen moon, Gwaine could see the dagger, a couple yards ahead of him. It was covered in blood.

Gwaine paused, considering whether or not to call for help. If this was a sorcerer, he might need assistance in subduing him. Or her.

Then the injured person came out into the light, bent over slightly, hand clamped over a spot on the left side of her abdomen. She cried out in fear when she saw Gwaine.

And every thought Gwaine had of calling for help fled his mind in an instant.

"Elen." he whispered.

"Brother." Her voice shook.

Their eyes met in recognition just as the sound of deep voices drifted from the end of the dark alley. "Look, blood; wherever the sorcerer is, he's injured. Check down here!"

Gwaine saw Elen straighten, her eyes hardening, but quickly he lunged forward and grabbed her arm, hauling her out of the alley and down another, away from the guards.

The next few minutes were a blur of twisted, dark streets, pounding hearts, and approaching footsteps. Gwaine didn't dare stop, even when he heard his sister gasp in pain every few feet; guards and knights were still searching.

I can't let them catch my sister.

She resisted, pulling to a halt behind a tool shed and hissing angrily when she realized that he was taking her in the direction of the castle. He halted long enough to explain, "There's a tunnel that leads under the town to outside the walls. It can be only accessed through the citadel." When Elen still refused to move, Gwaine growled, "Elen, trust me."

Trust me? How can I tell her that after the things I've done?

Elen remained still, her eyes examining Gwaine. Too late he realized what he was wearing; his chain mail and red cloak with the Pendragon crest on it. "You're a knight of Camelot, aren't you?"

Gwaine wasn't certain which part hurt more; the tone of anger in Elen's voice or flicker of hope in her eyes; the hope that this was a mistake, that he wasn't serving a Pendragon.

His silence was his answer. Her jaw hardened and she pulled from his grip. Heart aching, Gwaine said quietly, "You're bleeding."

Elen glanced down at the wound. It wasn't very big nor did it seem terribly deep, but it was bleeding. Wincing, she put her hand over it and muttered, "Thrhhaele dolgbenn." Her eyes flashed temporarily gold. The blood stopped oozing out of the cut, but Gwaine could tell that it didn't heal all the way; mainly by the pain still evident on her face. "Well?" Elen snapped after they'd been standing still a minute longer. "'Aren't we being pursued?" Gwaine shrugged and gestured for his sister to follow him.

"Why didn't the spell work?" he asked a few minutes later, after they'd successfully slipped into the castle and began to sneak along the lower hallways.

Her breath was labored as she answered, "Dagger…was cursed. My…my doing. Not meant for me…the curse, I mean. Stupid serving boy used a telekinetic spell on it…stabbed me."

Gwaine stopped, ducking behind an old statue and pulling Elen after him. Forcing her to face him, he demanded, "What serving boy? And who was the blade enchanted to kill?"

Elen made a face. "It was meant to kill Arthur. His manservant has magic…he found me and attacked. Scrawny bastard."

Gwaine's annoyance at his sister's slurring Merlin was overcome by the fact that she'd enchanted a knife specifically to kill Arthur. "You were planning to kill the king? Why?"

Do I really need to ask that? There was a long list of reasons Elen would have to kill Arthur. But before he could refute his question, she said coldly, "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize that you'd swore fealty to him. That you'd become loyal to him." Her voice was bitter, full of resentment and hate.

Some of it is probably for me. He deserved it. But he asked again, urgently, "Why, Elen?"

"He kidnapped our cousins. Or ordered someone to do so."

"He rescued Everard and Elwin. He is planning to take them home!"

"Do you really believe that?" Elen snarled.

The warning bell had ceased its clanging, but the distant clamor of guards' voices reminded Gwaine of their predicament. "Come on." he snapped, leading Elen out from behind the statue and down the torch lit corridors.

The next part of the journey seemed to last for hours. But it couldn't have been longer than a half hour before they had found the tunnel that led from the burial vaults and left the city behind them.

The grate at the end of the tunnel had worried Gwaine at first, but Elen simply muttered a couple words and it was blasted off its mountings. Then she turned to face him. "Now what?"

He knew what had to happen now, but it didn't mean he liked it. She's injured. But she can take care of herself. I think. I hope.

"You go. Get out of here. Somebody will have noticed that you are missing by now and they'll put two and two together." When Elen didn't move, her face blank and unreadable, Gwaine nearly shouted in frustration, "Elen, listen, we don't have time for you to be stubborn. Get yourself back to Bernicia as quickly as you can, do you understand me?"

Worry took over her features. "The twins…"

"I'll get them home. I promise. Now go."

She stared at him, but finally began to back away, slowly, before turning and running into the woods.

Gwaine forced himself to hurry back toward the castle, to report his findings to Arthur.

Which was to say, he was going to have to concoct a lie as an explanation of his brief disappearance. But to be honest, Arthur was hardly his biggest concern right now.

Elen, what on earth did you think you were doing?

Gwaine, what have you done?

Elen didn't make it far into the woods before she collapsed. However, her injury, though still painful, was not the cause.

Her tears were.

Elen did not like to cry. She usually refused to do so; it showed weakness. She had learned, over the years, to turn all her sadness and fear into anger. Anger kept her safe, far safer than the vulnerability of tears. She preferred to break and burn things over crying. Yes, anger was better. She could always retreat into it.

As a matter of fact, Elen could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she'd cried since she was a very young child. The last time, it had been from sheer terror.

This time? She wasn't sure. Anger, betrayal? Probably. Regret?

Don't even go there.

She was not safe this close to Camelot. She had to keep going.

Damn my brother. The traitor.

Who had just saved her life.

I can't believe I've missed him so much.

And now that she'd seen him now, so changed, so…so unlike her lost brother…the pain was only going to get worse.

It had been a rough night so far. The search for the sorcerer had finally ended when a couple guards had found the grate on the tunnel from the burial vaults torn off. And the newest castle kitchen maid had gone missing; it was suspected that she was the sorceress who had disturbed the peace of Camelot that evening.

Merlin stifled a yawn as he listened to the king and the knights converse over what to do.

"Whoever she was and whatever her plans are, she's gone now, sire." Leon said. "But she was injured, seemingly in whatever fight occurred in that warehouse, which means…"

"She had a fight with someone else; we already discussed that. There's just no way to be sure..." Arthur ran his hand through his hair. "We've been talking about this for too long. It's late. We'll look around some more in the morning. Goodnight, everyone."

The knights dispersed, some silently brooding, others muttering to their friends. Merlin watched Gwaine leave; he'd been completely silent throughout the whole meeting. Far too silent, even for his present mood…

Merlin's half-closed eyes flew open. He knows something. He wasn't sure where the conviction came from, but if Merlin had learned one thing over the years, it was that his instincts were usually right.

Now wide awake, Merlin followed the dark haired knight as he strode, not to his rooms, but to the parapet that overlooked the castle gates. No one else was around.

Gwaine sauntered forward and leaned on the balustrade. Merlin watched him for a few minutes before going over to join him.

Gwaine glanced at him. "Hey, mate."

"Gwaine." They remained in silence for a few moments before Gwaine spoke.

"You can ask me, you know."

"Ask you what?"

"Whatever it is you're just dying to ask me right now." Gwaine chuckled dryly. "I don't know if I can lie properly to you right now, Merlin. You've come close just enough times. Besides, I'm tired. Nearly out of my senses."

Merlin almost laughed at that, but the questions burning in his mind stopped him. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to speak.

What he meant to ask was What do you know about the sorceress?, but what came out was, "Why did you lie about your past?" It was the question he'd been asking in his head for weeks; the one that bothered him above all the rest.

Because he'd thought that Gwaine was his friend. That he trusted him.

Merlin didn't know what reply his question would receive. He expected anger, or laughter, or maybe no answer at all.

He didn't expect Gwaine to turn, look him in the eye, and ask calmly, "Why do you lie about your magic?"

So, a sort of cliffhanger. I'm a bit evil :D

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