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The trail of bodies had finally meandered its way close to the city borders, drawing a crooked line down the map through the scattered villages and into the Darkling Woods. After so many reports and sightings and rumors, a few victims were finally brought before the court physician to be examined.
Just as the rumors had said; in one of the bodies, the tongue was glistening silver.
The cause of death, though, was asphyxiation. Many common folk were unaware, but the tongue reached far beyond the mouth, slinking down to the back of the throat. There was irritation there in the victim, the back of his mouth seeming to have rubbed repeatedly against the hard surface his tongue had become, in a vain attempt to swallow.
Merlin frowned down at Gaius's findings, arms folded in front of him in thought. "What could have caused something like this?"
Gaius looked over his shoulder at him. "I don't know. But it surely couldn't have been done through natural means."
"So it was magic?"
"It would appear so."
Merlin shook his head in frustration. "Who would do something like this? The victims, they all seem random."
"Perhaps," Gaius mused, standing up straighter. "But there is one thing they all share."
Merlin raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "What is it?"
"They're all relatively powerful men."
Merlin frowned. "Two of the bodies with tongues like this have been women."
Gaius hummed. "Yes, but they were each well respected members of their village, were they not?"
"I don't understand."
Referencing the map that marked out each of the reported attacks, Gaius went down the list. "Several were Lords and Dukes, the highest ranking members of nobility in the area." He pointed to another few incidents. "One of the women was a Lady. The other was an old healer, likely a village elder. And she wasn't a serf. She was on free land."
"What about the bandits?"
"I can't be sure," Gaius pondered, licking his lip. "But if this pattern is intentional, I would guess that they may have been group leaders, or perhaps the strongest of their party."
"So whoever is doing this, they're going after whoever they feel is most powerful?"
"That is how it would seem."
Merlin waved his arms in exasperation, letting them flop down to his sides. "I don't get it. Why target figureheads but then kill the others as well? I know many have been witnesses, but there was hardly anyone left in that village." Merlin pointed to a spot on the map. "And if any bandits survived, they weren't the ones to report the bodies. Most of them were found by patrols."
Gaius hummed, trying to think of an answer.
But in that moment, Uther opened his door, striding in with his cape sweeping about.
"Sire," Gaius said quickly with a bow.
"Sire!" Merlin followed, fumbling slightly but bowing as well.
"Gaius. I've come to see what it is you have found about the rumors surrounding these murders. Surely there is a reasonable explanation for this."
Merlin recognized the persuasive threat Uther was delivering. He knew that, as king, he was not equipt to make such calls, but if Gaius relaying that the attacks were caused by magic could be avoided, he would surely take that route. He may be inclined to villanize the practice further, by blaming any ill will on the craft, but doing so too much would show that magic slipped through the cracks more often than he'd care for the people to speculate on.
The thought made Merlin smile anxiously to himself, being such an example of magic seeping into the kingdom against the king's will.
"It is too early to tell for sure," Gaius said, turning back to the body.
Uther circled around him, surveying the sight from over Gaius's shoulder.
"The rumors are true," Gaius admitted, gesturing to the gaping mouth of the deceased with a small utensil. "The tongue has been turned silver."
"And is it like this with all of the victims?"
"No sire," Gaius said. "Only one from each instance."
Merlin's heart fluttered as Uther continued to slowly walk around the table, passing him by very closely. It wasn't often that the king would make an appearance in Gaius's chambers, especially if it was neither his son or his ward the physician was treating. Having the king in Merlin's space, so close to his room and his hidden treasures of magic made him squirm. One misstep over a false floorboard, one too many questions asked, and Merlin could be lead down to the dungeons on accounts of sorcery.
Again.
Merlin was so lost in his worries that he had missed a good part of the discussion, only paying attention once more when Gaius chanced to go against the king's wishes.
"It is sorcery, sire."
"How can you be sure?"
"There is no other explanation."
Uther huffed, wanting to dismiss the idea and continue to preserve the current streak of magicless peace, but he relented.
Perhaps the body count was too high.
Even for him.
He ogled the line on the map, the one that had been gradually and disjointedly drawing in towards the heart of Camelot. "Then I shall take this as a direct threat against me."
Sure enough, more bodies were found a week later.
A fishing village on the west coast, small and supported majorly by its seafarers, had been decimated by the same tragedy. The fishermen returned home from their village to find all of their families and neighbors dead, the old, retired captain with a mouth full of metal.
Other than the silver tongues, none of the deaths had been the same. One town saw most of its people beaten in a mighty brawl. Another saw mass poisoning. The bandits often fought each other until all had fallen and one village had been mauled by a pack of diseased wolves.
The shoretown had all been drowned, the boats knocking against the bobbing bodies as they docked.
All except for the victims with silver tongues.
Uther sent Arthur and his men to investigate in person this time. It was the closest an attack had been to the city, and people were growing scared of the proximity.
They all searched the shallows, trying to fathom how so many people, in a village of strong swimmers, had all breathed in the sea, so close to shore.
Leon and a few other knights consoled the working men who had returned from a routine trip to find their lives ripped out from under them. Camelot would offer them homes in the city, would fund their funerals and station a patrol nearby for any who wished to stay.
But she could not bring their families back.
"No one seemed ill before you left?" Arthur asked a stoic sailor. "No reason for why this could have happened?"
"No."
"They couldn't have eaten something to cause delirium? Any natural phenomenon in this area to cause disorientation?"
"No," the man insisted. "Most of these families have lived here for generations. We know the water well. We know the tides. Even the babes know how to swim."
"What about the captain?" Merlin asked from behind them, looking out at the shoreline where men were hauling bodies out of the water. The captain wasn't among them. He had suffocated in his bedroom.
The sailor moved as though to deny it but stopped, thinking carefully. "No, Clide did say that he had seemed bothered by something."
"Like what?" Arthur asked.
"A sore throat."
Merlin and Arthur shared a look. It was the first piece of new information they had been able to find.
There were signs.
The knights made camp outside the village, further away from the sea air and under the cover of trees, to leave the people to their mourning.
Idle chat was peppered between the men as Merlin stirred them stew, but Arthur sat in silence by the fire.
"What are you thinking?"
Arthur sighed, acting as though the question was inappropriate, for Merlin was meant to serve and nothing more. He couldn't resist giving in though.
"None of these deaths, none of these tragedies seem related," Arthur mused. "The only thing that connects them is the silver."
Merlin hummed in understanding, nodding along as he worked on their dinner.
"What is it that's killing them?" Arthur asked. "What sort of enchantment simply begs a body to die by any means?"
Merlin shrugged. "I don't know," he said solemnly.
Arthur shook his head. "I just don't understand."
"We have to try and find someone before their tongue changes," Merlin suggested, pulling the stew off of the flames. "If we can't save them, maybe we can at least survey why it happened and work out how to prevent it."
Arthur looked up at that, hopeful. "But how would we find them?"
"We could have messengers warn the outlying villages to report any oral illnesses," Merlin concocted.
Arthur seemed doubtful of the plan's effectiveness, but didn't have anything better. "It's definitely a start."
"We'll find whoever is doing this, and stop them."
Arthur stared up at Merlin, who was standing over him with a look of such surety it made his stomach ache. He smiled defeatedly and gave his servant a short nod.
Satisfied, Merlin began to divvy out their meal, ladling soup into bowl after bowl until he was able to serve himself. Watching contentedly at the knights all enjoying his cooking, Merlin sat back against a log and began to indulge in his own meal.
The somber silence of the forest was interrupted when Merlin gagged loudly, warm, thick liquid getting caught in the back of his throat. He coughed, spitting his meal into the grass before wiping at his nose with his sleeve.
Laughing amongst each other, the knights quietly mocked him as he cleared his throat a few times. Arthur stared at him, concerned for a moment, then shaking his head in exasperation at Merlin's foolishness.
Merlin laughed at himself to hide any embarrassment, and finished his meal.
But a bad feeling was stirring in his gut that persisted well into the night.
In the morning, Merlin woke groggily, phlegm piling in his mouth that he quickly cleared with a few chugs of water. His throat itched, but he tried to attribute it to him burning his tongue on his stew the night before.
The knights all helped pack up for the journey home, making small talk or discussing plans regarding the mission.
As Merlin loaded his pack onto his horse, he paused, hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He turned to look over his shoulder, eyeing the shadows in the brush, but saw nothing.
"Have a funny feeling?"
Merlin jumped, turning back around to find Arthur petting his horse on the nose. He laughed at how spooked Merlin was, and gave the mare a gentle pat.
"No, I just–" He glanced over his shoulder again briefly. "Thought I heard something."
To his surprise, Arthur actually looked out into the woods as well, scanning the area for anything Merlin might have missed. "I'm sure it's nothing."
They began to ride, meandering their way back to the city, ready to put their feet up for the night or take a long bath to wash away the journey's grime.
Merlin, however, was properly on edge. He'd seen the bodies before, yes, but this was the first time they had ventured out to where the magical phenomenon had taken place.
He couldn't help but feel like it was following them.
The morning went by without incident though, and soon the party had their eyes out for a place to rest the horses near midday.
Something bright flashed in the corner of Merlin's eye, just when he had convinced himself to relax, and he turned sharply. All he found were trembling bushes, which he hoped moved with the wind.
Moments later, however, Arthur's horse reared and threw him from his saddle. Despite being a well trained steed, it panicked, bucking about as it circled around the area.
Merlin and Leon dismounted quickly to try and calm the thing, being sure to stop it from stomping on the prince, but then a second horse reared. Then another.
Soon all but one knight had either fallen or left their horse and the one remaining was having trouble keeping him from joining the others in a panic. One by one the horses fled, forcing their way through the woods with little hope of stopping them. All attempts to call them back were met with nothing but the sound of their retreat.
Once Arthur was back on his feet, the last knight had dismounted, but hadn't let got of the reigns. He held on tightly, a few others helping to keep his horse calm as his ears flicked about. Merlin tried to guess what the horse was listening for, but their surroundings seemed just as empty as that morning.
"What the hell was that?" Arthur asked, brushing himself off frustratedly.
Merlin shook his head. "I–" He paused to swallow. "I don't know."
He felt something brush his pant leg amidst the complaining, and jerked his leg up and out of the underbrush. He stared down at the ground, trying to find something to have caused it, to no avail.
"We rest here," Arthur announced. "Try to conserve rations. We should still be able to make it home today on foot if we're brief."
With great effort, they managed to calm the last remaining horse, though he was still on edge. The rest set up a meager camp, most of their supplies having been carried away by the horses. They nibbled on their food and rested their feet.
"Merlin." Arthur tossed a waterskin at him. "See if you can find some water."
Merlin sighed and climbed to his feet. "'Right," he said. He cleared his throat afterwards and trudged into the woods towards the sound of running water.
Arthur stared at his back as he left, suspicion beginning to make him feel nauseous. He pushed it aside, however. Surely, it would be all too convenient for Merlin's tongue to turn silver.
And yet he didn't look away from where he watched Merlin's frame disappear between the trees.
Kneeling down beside the riverbank, Merlin went about filling the waterskin, absentmindedly massaging his throat with his spare hand. He caught himself doing it, paused, and frowned down at his work as he worried.
Again, a sliver of light flashed in the corner of his eye and he startled.
"Hello?" He cringed at how his voice clicked in his throat.
Once more, something shining beneath the leaves, glistening beneath the sun in a slithering pattern until it retreated fully into the shade.
Merlin glared at where he thought it was, mind racing. This thing, whatever it was, had followed them from the disaster. After all their theories, their brainstorming for motives, their hunt for a sorcerer . . .
Perhaps whatever had done this wasn't even human.
He spotted it again, moving in his direction this time, and turned on his heel to run. He panted as he weaved through the forest, eager to reach his prince.
He opened his mouth to warn them, once he figured he was near enough to be in earshot, but he choked on his words. "Ar–" He was so startled by the tightening of his throat that he lost balance and fell forward onto his knees. The creature– whatever it was– was moving around him in a flurry, the leaves rustling and twigs crunching now that it knew it had been spotted.
Merlin tried to speak again, but found that even breathing was becoming difficult. He clutched at his throat, panic settling in as he thought of all the people who had died choking on their own tongue.
The only advantage Merlin had, was that he knew what was happening.
He opened his mouth wide and positioned his tongue low in his mouth, thankfully that he could still move it, albeit with difficulty. He bowed his head, spit dripping onto the ground as he ensured his airway was open.
It was still painful, feeling his tongue stiffen and clog up his mouth, but he could breathe, just barely. He reached up his hand and stuck two fingers in his mouth, horrified when he felt a cool, smooth surface inside.
A gasp sounded around him and he looked up with eyes wide, but the movement in the plants had ceased, the creature was no longer with him.
Merlin knew what came next.
He forced himself to his feet, holding his head at an awkward angle, and tried to follow it back to camp, but his tongue was near solid silver now, and the hole he'd left himself to breathe was narrow. He felt the need to swallow reflexively and instead a gagging sound spewed out of him, eyes rolling back into his head as his breathing was cut off momentarily.
When he reached the camp, all but one knight was gone. He could hear everyone running into the trees with urgency, and had only just caught Leon's eye by the slightest of chances.
"Merlin!"
Merlin stumbled into the camp, scraping his hands as he landed in the overgrowth. His breathing whistled painfully and he grasped at his jaw in pain.
There was some sort of horrific understanding in Leon's expression, and he rushed to Merlin's side in an instant. "What happened?"
Tears were filling his eyes but Merlin squinted them shut and risked tilting his head back for Leon to see. The knight gasped as he took in the sight, and quickly encouraged Merlin to lower his head again when he made a choking sound.
Leon opened his mouth to ask questions, to explain, maybe to just scream at the grotesqueness of it, but before he could, he was interrupted.
"Help!"
Merlin looked up in horror.
It was his own voice.
Both of them understood what the creature was doing in an instant and Leon helped Merlin to his feet so that they could chase the others and save them from their false rescue.
They could hear Arthur and the knights calling out for him in the distance, and Leon tried drawing their attention away. "Stop! Stop! He's here!" But there was no persuading them.
"Arthur!"
They caught up to one of the other knights, the man stopping in his tracks as he spotted Merlin and shining glint in his mouth. Leon hastily explained and sent him to help warn the others, but Merlin couldn't stop. He knew that the creature would lure Arthur to his death if he didn't catch up, and that wasn't something he was willing to chance.
Arthur's heart was pounding as he followed Merlin's calls through the woods.
"Ah!"
He stopped sharply, and turned to the left to chase the sound. He knew he should have kept a closer eye on Merlin. He knew that the fool hadn't just scorched his throat on stew of all things. But he hadn't done anything and now Merlin was under attack somewhere in this dense wood.
"Arthur!"
He sounded so desperate, so pained.
"Please!"
He turned again, the voice coming from another direction.
"I can't!"
It was to his left.
"Augh!"
No, his right!
The leaves all rustled around him and he spun around, sword drawn as he searched this way and that. His head swam as he tried to pinpoint the source, constantly changing trajectory to the point where he was nearly just spinning in circles.
"Help!"
"Arthur!"
"Please!"
"Leon!"
"Help me!"
He stopped, breath heaving, and tried to stop his head from spinning as he waited for another hint as to where Merlin could be.
"Arthur?"
Arthur turned around, finding a large berry bush behind him, and stared in disbelief. It sounded as though Merlin were just beyond the coverage. If he just pushed through the shrub, he would find his friend waiting just beyond.
A crunch sounded off behind him and he jumped, turning back around again. His eyes widened and arms fell as he found Merlin, collapsed on the ground and drooling all over his hands as he struggled to crawl forward.
Arthur moved to help him.
A scream erupted from behind the bush and, if Arthur hadn't seen Merlin with his own eyes, he might have leapt through the branches to come to the voice's rescue. Instead, he startled and scrambled back, landing on the ground next to Merlin as they both cowered away from the beast.
A long, silver vine swept down and brushed away the leaves, revealing the sheer drop that had been waiting for Arthur beyond the hedge. Arthur's gaze flowed it up to the body of a bright, slinking thing that had suspended itself from the overhanging branches of the cliffside trees.
Its body was long and sleek, covered in silver scales and ending in a long, wispy tail. The neck was like a vulture's, long and twisted into a surveying shape, waiting for disaster so that it may feast. It's face was close to a man's, though not quite right. It's jaw was gaping, salivating over them. Every bit of this creature was shining like fine metals, coated head to toe in a silver sheen.
All except for the tongue.
It's face twisted in the air, looking down at Arthur with little to no expression. The mouth hung open, pink tongue nestled neatly in the center, and it spoke without moving it.
"Arthur," it said in Merlin's voice. "Come."
Arthur knew it wasn't real, was staring into the mask-like face with Merlin's tongue hanging limply in its mouth, but the voice sounded so sure, so trusting.
"Please."
"Step off."
And he almost did. One foot was lifted off the ground, hovering over the edge of the cliff, ready to pull him forward and take his weight with him. But he heard a soft thud behind him, and was reminded of the real Merlin, gagging on his own tongue.
In a flash he hoisted up his sword and struck.
The creature wailed, writhing in pain as blood stained its perfect, mirrored body. It curled up and contorted as it bled, until it let loose of the trees and plummeted to the sorry grave it had planned for him.
And it all sounded like Merlin dying.
He quickly remembered his friend and returned to his side, finding him unconscious. He knelt down, turning Merlin over and forcing his mouth open with his hand.
His tongue was back to normal.
Merlin breathed.
Gaius prescribed Merlin a small pain remedy but, more importantly, lots of honey tea. Merlin smiled to himself as he took a sweet sip of the stuff, sitting at the fire in Arthur's chambers.
"You're supposed to be working, you know."
Merlin scoffed into his cup. "Have to have tea time," he excused. "Gaius's orders."
Arthur rolled his eyes and came to sit with him, pouring himself a serving as well. He brought it to his lips and grimaced. "Eugh."
"What?"
Arthur shook his head. "Never been a tea person." He set the cup down and instead crossed his leg, leaning back in the chair beside Merlin. "You're . . . You're alright though?"
"Yeah."
"Good."
"You seemed really worried."
Arthur waved his hand. "The kingdom was a stake."
"I meant about me."
Arthur blew out a breath. "I'd be remiss to not have someone polish my armor."
"Enough so that you'd jump off a cliff?"
"Shut up," Arthur pouted, turning his head away.
They sat in awkward silence for a while, the fire crackling as night drew near. Merlin shook his head, knowing the prince couldn't see, and moved to take another sip.
"But yes," Arthur said after a while, sounding soft, "I'd rather think so."