Chapter 6

"Arfur?"

Arthur jolted awake. It was dark and quiet, save for the soft hoots of the owls in the trees or the occasional rustle of a woodland creature passing by. And, of course, the tiny whisper of the little boy who tugged anxiously at Arthur's sleeve.

"Merlin," Arthur groaned, scrubbing a hand at his eyes. It felt like only moments ago he had finally managed to drift off into a fitful doze. "Go to sleep."

"Somethin' feels wrong. Feels bad."

As tempted as Arthur was to ignore this, Merlin's funny feelings had always served as a reliable omen of things to come. With a final grumble of displeasure he cast aside his blankets, shivering in the cool night air, and reached out for his sword.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The cold, familiar point of a blade needled at Arthur's back. He cursed the merchant from earlier, who had no doubt taken it upon himself to spread word of Merlin's abilities.

"I don't want any trouble." Arthur did his best to keep his voice steady. "I have plenty of money and supplies you can take."

"I'm not interested in that. I want the boy."

"I'm sure we can come to some agreement-"

Something struck Arthur's head and he staggered to the forest floor.

"Gerroff him!" Merlin yelled and the slaver went flying through the air.

"You little bugger!"

Arthur reached again for his sword, but his vision was fuzzy and reactions slow. As his hand finally grasped Excalibur's hilt, a heavy boot came crashing down upon it with a painful crack. He bellowed in pain.

"Arfur!"

"Don't try anything." The slaver's sword dug cruelly at Arthur's nape, forcing the king face-first into the dirt. "No magic or I'll run him through."

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, wishing he could raise his head just a little so he could see the young boy for himself. "Run!"

"You try to run and I'll kill him. I swear it. Now, you gonna be good?"

Arthur heard Merlin sniff. When he finally spoke his voice was small, defeated, and watery with tears.

"I'll be good."

"You'd better," the slaver growled and, with another brutal blow, Arthur was sent spiralling into oblivion.

The reply from King Alined came swiftly. He would of course be glad to visit Camelot and advise the queen following her poor husband's disappearance. As Gwen read these words, George entered with another letter (also from Alined) which had arrived for Lord Alaric. While Alined distracted the Queen, Alaric would sneak away to grant access to his army through the palace vaults. Camelot stood no chance.

Of course, thought Gwen smugly as she handed Alaric's letter back to George so he could reseal it, Alined did not realise that his soldiers would be met in the tunnels by the full force of Camelot's army.

The rumours around Arthur's death were growing too. George was most apologetic as he told Gwen this, but she herself rejoiced and began arranging for lavish preparations in advance of Alined's arrival. She spent hours coordinating a feast with the steward, loudly demanding the best decorations and food that money could buy. She wished Arthur was there to see her playing the part of a spoilt noble and, in the moments where she felt disheartened, she pictured what his face would look like when she eventually recounted this all to him following his safe return to Camelot.

The day before Alined's arrival, Iseldir arrived. He bowed deeply to Gwen. Gaius had warned him what to expect, but he couldn't help but look amused as the queen loudly asked him whether he knew a spell that would help brighten up the castle for King Alined's visit.

"I will do my best, Your Highness."

"Very well. You are dismissed," she told him rudely, then flounced off to find some other trivial task she could make a fuss out of.

Arthur awoke with a pounding headache. A face swam into view above him.

"You... you were in Eldermoor..."

"Your son helped me out of a tight situation. I'm Isolde."

"Merlin!" Arthur bolted upright, regretting it when his vision twisted. "Where is he?"

"Take it easy a second. Drink this." Isolde held out a tincture, but Arthur ignored it in favour of scanning their surroundings. They were in the same campsite, but the sun was high in the sky. The fingers of his left hand - broken he realised ruefully - had been wrapped into a splint. "Slavers usually take magical children to Helios's stronghold."

"Helios? Who's that?"

"Drink," Isolde insisted, pushing the tincture to Arthur again. He gulped it down, the taste reminding him of Gaius's potions. "Helios is a warlord. Ever since magic was legalised he's been trying to get more sorcerers in his ranks. Your son would be the perfect asset."

There was rustling in the trees nearby and Arthur tensed, worried for bandits. Isolde placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"It's just Tristan."

A man emerged from the foliage and, seeing Arthur awake, eyed him appraisingly.

"Feeling better?"

The answer was no, but there was no time to concern himself with that now. Arthur pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the loud buzzing in his ears.

"Woah!" Tristan hurried to one side and Isolde to the other as the king's legs buckled. "Slow down, alright? That was quite a blow you took. We weren't sure you would wake up."

"I need to find Merlin."

Tristan lowered Arthur back to the ground, the king too dizzy to try and stop him. "Trust me, you've got a better chance of finding him with us helping you."

Arthur looked warily between the two. Tristan's hand was in the small of Isolde's back, and Arthur realised they must be a couple.

"Why would you help me? You don't even know me."

"If it were up to me perhaps we wouldn't. But Isolde has taken a liking to your son."

Isolde's eyes darkened. "No child deserves what Helios would subject them to."

A shudder ran through Arthur at the thought of Merlin in the hands of such a monster. "Very well. Thank you both. I'm Arthur."

Isolde tilted her head, amused. "Arthur and Merlin? Like the King of Camelot and his Court Sorcerer?"

"May they rest in peace," Tristan added with a smirk. "I forgot to tell you earlier Isolde - word is that the search parties found them dead near the Gawant border. Only took the idiot knights a week and a half of searching..."

Arthur's mouth went dry. A week and a half? He had assumed he and Merlin had been missing for only a day or two. How long had the cave taken to work its magic? And why exactly did Guinevere and the knights believe them dead, when he knew for a fact there was no body to be found?

Isolde watched Arthur's expression curiously, perhaps seeing some of the turmoil reflected there. "You and your son... you don't look alike?"

"He takes after his mother." Arthur had foreseen this question when he had made up their cover story with Merlin the morning before. "She passed away."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Tristan said, but his expression remained doubtful. Arthur longed to ask for news of Guinevere, but decided not to push his luck. Given Tristan's evident distaste for knights and nobles, it seemed wise to keep his true identity hidden.

"We had best go." Isolde rose to her feet and went to fetch their horses. "If we ride fast we may even have you reunited with Merlin before nightfall."