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They returned to Camelot weary but in good spirits. They had vanquished the magical creature lurking in the meager village with bravery, swordsmanship, and (unbeknownst to most of the party) Merlin’s magic. Merlin laughed along with their antics but he reserved a small part of himself to grieve for the sorcerer who had summoned the magical being. His wife and child had been killed in Uther’s purge. Like many before him, he had sought to use his magic to bring terror to Uther’s kingdom. Though Merlin was glad to have helped the villagers, he was sorry to have been a part of taking down someone whose anger was justified, if not properly aimed.
While Arthur clapped his knights on the backs and virtually bounced up the citadel’s stairs in triumph, Merlin led their horses to the stable. Though his body ached with the hours in the saddle and he looked forward to a quiet night by Gaius’s fire, Merlin lingered over the horses’ grooming. The task was soothing. Sounds of the horses chewing their hay and occasionally snorting into their feed bins filled his ears. Their hides were warm and soft beneath his brushes. He made sure both were cleaned of the journey’s mud, their manes and tails were untangled, and their feet were free of any stones. Then he grabbed the saddles and levered them onto the fence board where he could scrub them and check them over for wear. The stable master normally saw to any mending but Merlin liked to double check anyways. It was only too easy to slice a few stitches on the billets to make a saddle slip.
His fingers grazed over a small domed object between the flaps of leather on the saddle skirt. Pulling the object free, he saw that it was an iron medallion with crude markings on the face. It wasn’t any larger than the first knuckle of his thumb and had a pin affixed to the back. It looked like the sort of object men in the country used to fasten blankets to their shoulders during the winter. While it didn’t appear to be magical in anyway, Merlin thought it would be best to show it to Gaius in any case. He slipped it into his pocket and gave his mare a quick pat on the nose.
“I promise I’ll scrounge up a carrot the next time I’m in the kitchen,” he assured her. The moody mare pinned her ears at him. He shook his head at her fondly and left the stables.
As he made his way to his rooms, he accidentally bumped into another servant coming down the stairs.
“Oh! So sorry,” Merlin exclaimed. “Clumsy feet!”
The man shoved him, nearly sending him tumbling down the stairs.
“Watch where you’re going, you doddering idiot!” He pushed past Merlin to continue his way down the stairs.
Merlin rubbed absently at his chest where the man had pushed him. Frowning, he started back up the stairs, moving more carefully now.
His good mood returned though once he opened the door to find Gaius tending a blazing fire and saw his share of a meat pie steaming on the table.
“Ah! There you are, my boy! I trust your campaign was successful?”
“It was, yes. There was a sorcerer who had wanted vengeance against Uther. Typical story,” Merlin responded. He set his bags down by his door and went to dig into the meat pie sitting at the table. As he finished, Gaius patted him on the back affectionately. Then Merlin felt Gaius’s fingers tighten, digging into his skin.
“Gaius!” Merlin said, startled. He looked into the face of his uncle and saw only hatred and disgust mirrored back at him. “Gaius?” He said with unease.
Gaius moved his grip to Merlin’s upper arm. “You stupid boy!” He hissed and wrenched Merlin forward, onto his feet. Gaius waved an arm at the bags Merlin had left lying by his door. “Why can’t you ever clean up after yourself?” Gaius demanded and roughly propelled Merlin towards the bags.
“I-I’m sorry, Gaius,” Merlin stammered. Gaius cuffed him on the back of the head. Merlin was too surprised to even call out.
“Don’t be sorry! Clean it up!”
Watching Gaius from the corner of his eye, Merlin obeyed.
“Are you feeling alright, Gaius? No bright balls of light have gone into your ears today, have they?”
“I’m not possessed, you idiot! I’m just tired of you making a mess all the time!” Gaius snapped.
Though he was still hurt by Gaius’s sharp behavior, Merlin did as he asked and moved his bags into his room. Then he tidied the dishes from dinner and went to bed.
The next morning he woke to sunlight streaming through the shutters over his window and knew that meant he would be late to care for Arthur. Pulling clothing over his head haphazardly, he ran from his room.
“No time for breakfast, Gaius! I’m late!” He called while still amidst his shirt. When he popped his head through, he saw that he was speaking to an empty room. That was strange, he thought. Gaius always made sure he was up and fed. He hadn’t even left a bowl of porridge or hunk of bread out for Merlin. Shrugging, he chalked this up to whatever bad mood Gaius had been in the previous evening.
He sprinted down the stairs, careening off walls in his haste to get to the kitchens. Sara, the cook, saw him pelt into her orderly kitchen and her eyes narrowed.
“You’re too late! His highness has already headed down to the yard for practice. He had to have another servant fetch his breakfast!”
Merlin winked at her and grab a pastry from the tray she had just set on the window ledge to cool.
“You scoundrel!” Said Sara to his back. He heard her mutter, “why he doesn’t fire you, I’ll never know.” He didn’t worry about her ire, though. Sara had a soft spot for him, he knew. Like Arthur, she enjoyed telling him what a reprehensible servant he was, all while passing him extra portions of pie and his favorite apple turnover.
Munching on his prize, he headed to the armory to grab his reinforced shield and the practice weapons Arthur favored. He knew coming in late would mean he would act as the target but there was little he could do about that now.
Seeing him come onto the field, Arthur shouted, “Nice of you to join us, Merlin! Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.” The other knights laughed appreciatively. “Since you finally decided to grace us with your presence, why don’t you hold up that shield and see if you can dodge any sword strikes.”
Merlin winced but did as he was ordered. This was a favorite game of Arthur’s and stalling would only convince him to take away the shield. Merlin braced his legs and tucked as much of his skinny upper body behind the wooden shield as he could. Then he dodged and weaved while the knights took turns striking at the shield. After about an hour of this, Merlin was out of breath. He was also cold and muddy from tumbling into the dirt several times. To add to his misery, his arms ached from the weight of the shield and the jarring strikes against it.
“Okay, Merlin. I think we’ve all had our fun at your expense.” Merlin sighed gratefully before Arthur continued. “Why don’t you join us for some practice? Your swordcraft could use some work.” Merlin groaned. If anything was worse than standing behind a shield while knights swung weapons at you, it was standing behind nothing with just a wooden sword to defend yourself.
“Come on, you lazy daisy!” Arthur crowed at him and threw him a wooden sword, which Merlin promptly dropped. Arthur’s face split into a grin that spanned from ear to ear. Merlin could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself. “Percival! You could use some work on your swordcraft too.”
Merlin looked at the big man and glared at Arthur. Arthur just smirked back. This wouldn’t be a fair fight at all.
Percival winked at him. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I’ll take it easy on you.”
Merlin smiled in response and took up a guard position. True to his word, Percival swung slowly and carefully in a clear pattern that Merlin was able to deflect easily. Once they had gone through the pattern once, Percival sped up. With surprise, Merlin realized that he could keep up. Maybe all this practice would pay off!
Just then, Merlin’s feet snagged together and he fell, gracelessly, onto his rump. Guess not, he thought to himself. While Arthur cackled at him from the sidelines, Percival put out a hand to help him up.
“That was very good, Merlin! Most students can’t keep up with patterns that quickly,” Percival said kindly. Merlin shrugged sheepishly and took Percival’s hand.
Immediately, Percival’s open and smiling face turned feral. He brought his sword up and advanced on Merlin. Merlin scrambled to his feet and barely got his wooden sword up in time to parry Percival’s next, ferocious downswing.
“Easy, Percival! We’re trying to train him not cut him in half!” Arthur called playfully.
Percival didn’t react to Arthur’s statement. His brows furrowed and his mouth was pinched tightly as he used his wooden blade to hack down at Merlin’s retreating form.
“Percival!” Merlin shouted, desperate. “Percival, ease up!” He spoke in vain. “Stop!” He cried. Merlin cast a desperate glance to Arthur, beseeching him for help. Arthur still had a grin on his face but it was crooked, as though it were melting from his lips. Then Merlin had to turn his gaze back to focus on defending himself.
Percival’s next slice knocked Merlin’s blade from his numbed hands. The second came down on Merlin’s shoulder with a piercing “crack!”
Merlin bellowed in pain and fell to his knees. He clutched at his shoulder with shaking hands. It was clear from the nauseating movement under his fingers that his collarbone was broken. A low whine escaped his lips as tried to move his left arm.
Percival raised his sword again and Merlin shrunk from him, unable to think of any other defense through the pain. He was utterly stunned by the fierce anger wafting from Percival, who never became angry, even in battle.
Arthur and several of the other knights restrained Percival.
“What are you doing, Percival?” Arthur demanded. Percival looked at the sword in his hand with confusion. When he looked back at Merlin, he tried to pull away from the arms encircling him. “Merlin, go to Gaius. We’ll sort him out!”
Merlin nodded dumbly. The pain emanating from his shoulder was making it very hard to think.
Halfway up the stairs, he remembered the medallion. Like an arrow striking home, the realization hit him. Anyone who had touched him since he picked up the emblem had become enraged and tried to hurt him. He pulled it from his pocket and searched for a quiet corner. Finding one, he set the medallion down. Casting one more look around him, he chanted some words, glinted his eyes to gold, and burned up the artifact. Satisfied that whatever magical pull the item had held was now destroyed, Merlin continued up to the physician’s chamber.
He had expected to receive sympathy and compassion from Gaius but what he did find was anything but. Gaius practically hissed at the sight of him.
“Gaius?” Merlin ventured experimentally.
“What are you doing back? Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of Arthur?”
“Yes, well I was but…but I was injured and I thought…”
“You thought you’d come crying home to me, is that it? Well, away with you. I’ve more important things to do.”
Merlin’s heart sank. Either Gaius had made a very uncharacteristic personality change or the effects of the magical medallion were still clinging to Merlin. His shoulder gave a twinge of pain and he steeled himself. He needed to have it set.
“I think my collarbone is broken,” Merlin said tentatively. “Can you set it for me? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Gaius sighed as though Merlin had just asked him to give up his bed to a traveling band of minstrels.
“Fine,” he said, brusquely. “Come and sit here.”
As soon as Merlin was within reach, Gaius grasped his shoulder and arm roughly and twisted them. Merlin felt the bones grind together and his knees lost the ability to keep him upright. Thankfully, he was close enough to the stool that he managed to land on the edge of it rather than straight to the floor. Merlin breathed in deeply several times and forced himself to pull his eyes from the back of his head where they had rolled of their own volition.
He held his ruined shoulder and released a breath. It came out in a quiet snuffle akin to a sob. His cheeks felt wet but he didn’t remember shedding any tears.
“That’s enough sniveling,” Gaius barked. “Away with you now.”
Merlin knew Gaius was under the effects of an enchantment but he felt a twinge of pain in his chest nonetheless. Knowing that Gaius had this cruelty lurking in him was heartbreaking to concede.
“Thank you,” he rasped. Before he left, he grabbed some cloth to use as a sling. Gaius raised an eye at this but Merlin did not remain long enough to hear him complain.
Once he was out in the corridor, Merlin stood for a long while. It was challenging to tie a sling with one hand but he managed. Maneuvering his injured arm into the fold of the cloth took his breath away and nearly sent him to his knees. Breathing deeply he pressed his forehead to the cool stone wall to anchor himself to something solid. Then he considered his options. He had no idea what the magical artifact had been. Clearly destroying it had not worked to dispel its enchantment. He needed help to identify it but Gaius was clearly not a possibility.
He thought of Kilgarrah but dispelled that notion. If the great dragon came under the spell, Merlin would not live long, dragon lord or not. His only other option was the library. As long as he kept Geoffrey from touching him, he’d be fine. He just hoped Uther’s purge of magical resources had left him something to read.
Though he managed to pass Geoffrey without incident and snuck into the secret vault, his hours-long perusal yielded only a possible name for the charm: a Mark of Malice. The tome had mentioned it in passing but did not include an illustration or a possible cure for the effects of the Mark. Giving up, Merlin went to face his duties.
The next few days were a trial. He never realized how much casual contact he made with people in his daily life. Since he was clumsy and perpetually late, he often bumped into people coming down the stairs or going through doorways. It was especially hard to avoid this given his disability. People kept trying to grab things he was carrying or to brace him as he invariably stumbled on the cobblestones. He kept having to bark, “don’t touch me!” to friends and strangers. He felt awfully bad about this but the few times he wasn’t fast enough convinced him rudeness was best. His torso and face wore a motley of bruises of all shapes and colors courtesy of those who had inadvertently triggered the enchantment by touching him.
The worst was affable, cheeky Gwaine, who had come up, unseen from behind him in the armory while he was polishing Arthur’s armor. Gwaine playfully pulled him into a head lock. Upon making contact, Gwaine had turned the good-natured gesture into a true chokehold. Merlin struggled against him uselessly. Even with two arms, the skinny boy would have struggled to get free. As black fuzz began to encroach on his plane of vision, Merlin cast an instinctive spell to throw Gwaine away from him. The knight fell against the wall with a huff of breath and landed in a pile, unconscious.
Worriedly, Merlin checked him over to make sure he was okay. His breath was even and his pulse was normal so Merlin judged that he’d be fine. Sure, his head would probably ache when he woke up but Merlin considered that fair given the pulsing pain his scuffle with Gwaine had caused in his collarbone.
Checking that he was again alone in the room, Merlin cast a furtive healing spell. While the pain diminished a tiny bit, he could still feel the bones grinding in his shoulder. He sighed heavily. Every other time he’d needed to perform strong healing magic, he had had Gaius’s spell books to reference. Merlin was still avoiding his mentor. It was bad enough having to use magic to protect himself against Gwaine, he certainly didn’t want to do the same with Gaius.
Finishing his work with a few quick spells, Merlin cast one last apologetic glance at Gwaine before heading down to the library.
Though he still could not find a way to cure the Mark, he had at least successfully avoided triggering an irate Geoffrey. In fact, the old librarian was starting to greet him warmly. Under the delusion that Merlin was there to study old battle strategy, he kept pulling out memoirs and tomes from boring old historians for Merlin to read. Merlin thought Geoffrey must get bored in the archives. At least humoring the old man gave Merlin an excuse to avoid crowds of people.
He had also miraculously avoided coming into contact with Arthur. Using his injury as an excuse, he had begged the steward to send up a different servant. That servant was obsequiously efficient so Merlin was able to avoid most in person tasks.
For another two days, Merlin continued in this way. He avoided people as best as he could, took his bumps and bruises when he couldn’t and tried to find a cure. Finally, after nearly a week of being Marked, Merlin realized he needed help. Gaius no longer allowed him into his chambers so Merlin had had to sleep in the stables. After bumping into the stable boy and two of the horses, that was now no longer an option. Several of the kitchen staff were triggered by the Mark so finding food had become challenging. He finally admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to figure this out on his own.
Arthur might not believe him at first but he had seen Percival’s reaction firsthand. Merlin thought the prince would be in the best position to help. He had the most resources and would cast the least amount of suspicion by inquiring about a magical artifact.
After successfully running the gauntlet of servants, nobles and other obstacles on his way up the stairs, Merlin knocked on Arthur’s door. He heard a muffled “Come in!” from the chambers and judged that Arthur was sitting down at his desk, far from the door. Still, Merlin opened the door cautiously, peering around it before he stepped into the room.
“Merlin!” Arthur welcomed him happily. “I trust you’re enjoying your little vacation?” He asked with a smirk.
Merlin pointed at his shoulder. “Hardly a vacation, sire, when I was mauled by your knight.”
Yes, that was unfortunate.” Arthur looked at him more carefully. “Merlin, why is your face bruised? I thought Percival only hit your shoulder?”
“Well, that’s why I’m here actually. Arthur, I’ve been cursed.”
Arthur let out a bark of laughter. “You? Cursed?” He laughed again, then said, “wait no, that does explain a lot.”
Merlin glared at him. Arthur tried to look more serious and only succeeded marginally.
“Ha, well how did you become cursed, Merlin? Did you anger a cleaning nymph?”
“I got cursed because I cleaned your stupid saddle!”
“What?”
“Someone put a Mark of Malice onto your saddle skirt. I picked it up and, ever since, anyone who comes in contact with me becomes angry and lashes out at me. That’s what happened with Percival.”
No hint of humor remained on Arthur’s face as he replied, “Someone tried to curse me?”
“Yeah, and got me instead.”
“Where is the Mark now? We have to destroy it!”
“I threw it in the blacksmith’s forge,” Merlin lied easily. “It melted down completely but I’m still cursed. I can’t figure out how to remove it.”
“Why don’t you ask Gaius?” At Merlin’s glower, Arthur said, “ah, he would have been one of the first affected.” Merlin nodded miserably. “Where have you been sleeping?” Arthur asked as realization dawned on him.
“Well, the stables mostly but now the stable boys keep trying to impale me with their pitchforks.”
“Ah, that explains the smell.” A smile quirked the corner of the prince’s mouth and Merlin scowled at him again.
“Can you go to Gaius on my behalf? I’ll draw the Mark as best as I can remember it.”
“Of course, Merlin. It’s the least I can do considering you were cursed in my stead.” Merlin smiled for the first time that week. “Go, use the parchment there on my desk. Lord knows I’d rather you use it than continue the boring accounting I’ve been writing up.”
Merlin nodded gratefully and set about drawing an enlarged version of the Mark. When he was finished, he pushed the parchment to the end of the table so that Arthur could retrieve it.
“Excellent. I’ll show Gaius this, claim a servant found the Mark and needs a cure, ok?” Merlin nodded again and smiled in appreciation. “Do you want to come with me? You could eavesdrop on the door.”
Merlin’s face fell at the suggestion.
“Of course not. You’re a clumsy idiot at the best of times,” Arthur teased him. “You can stay here then. My room could use some tidying up,” Arthur said, a playful smile on his face once again.
“Anything for my prince,” Merlin replied in a mocking tone and gave an exaggerated bow.
Arthur laughed and left the room. Merlin puttered about cleaning the room as best as he could with just one arm. Thankfully, Arthur had not managed to destroy it since the last time his replacement had cleaned it. Then he helped himself to the ewer of water at Arthur’s bedside to at least wash his face and hands. There wasn’t anything he could do for the state of his clothes so he would continue to smell like the stables, but he didn’t mind smelling like hay.
A short time later, Arthur returned with a triumphant look on his face.
“Gaius has a cure!” Arthur said.
“Oh, thank god!” Merlin sighed in relief. “What is it? Some kind of potion or something?”
“Umm, not quite,” Arthur replied. “Turns out removing the Mark takes a bit of a…quest.”
Merlin’s face fell. “A quest? What kind of quest?”
“Well, it should be easy actually. You just have to bathe in the waters of Eiddwen.” He paused a moment, gritting his teeth. Then continued, “and have a priestess of the old religion speak the words ‘hluttre pes mann wyrgthe.’” He said the words slowly and carefully as though he had taken great pains to memorize them correctly.
“Does it have to be a priestess or can it be any sorcerer?” Merlin asked with a note of panic in his voice.
“You say that like you have a sorcerer at your beck and call. What difference does it make if it’s a sorcerer or a priestess? Both will be impossible to find in Camelot.”
“Not necessarily. What did Gaius say? Can it be anyone with magic or just a priestess?”
“I don’t know. He found the passage in a book written by a priestess so it could just be that she knew someone of her order could complete the spell. Maybe any sorcerer can do it.” More softly and somewhat to himself, Arthur mused, “it’s a miracle he had the book at all. I would have thought my father had all the magical tomes destroyed.”
“Considering how many times your royal backside has been saved by Gaius’s magical tomes, you should be happy about that!” Merlin snapped.
“Yours too, it seems.” Arthur reminded him. “So, the lake of Eiddwen is a half day’s ride up the river. Do you think Gaius might know a sorcerer who could do the spell?”
“He might,” Merlin hedged.
“Good, then that’s settled. Lake Eiddwen is just outside of Camelot’s borders so they can perform the spell without penalty.”
“And you’re okay with someone doing magic on me?”
“Well considering it was a magical artifact that cursed you, I’m fine restoring the balance and having magic performed to reverse the effects.”
“And you realize I can’t ride? My mare nearly took off my finger the last time she saw me.”
“That’s what carts are for, Merlin!”
“What about your father? He’s certainly not going to let you gallivant off to the Lake of Eiddwen to perform magic on a servant.”
“Merlin, it will be fine. I’ll tell my father that we’re hunting in the northern woods. That’s normally a three day hunt so it will give us plenty of time.”
“But, Arthur –“ Merlin started to protest again.
Arthur cut him off.
“Merlin, you will go to the waters of Eiddwen even if I have to tie you up and throw you in a donkey cart to get you there. Stop stalling.”
Merlin smiled sheepishly.
“Thank you.”
“What was that, Merlin? I didn’t hear you.”
“Nothing! I’ll go see if we can borrow the baker’s cart. He’s not mad at me yet. Can you go speak with Gaius and see if he can arrange for a sorcerer to meet us?”
Arthur smiled broadly and went to pat Merlin on the shoulder. He stopped his gesture mid-swing as Merlin leapt away from him.
“Sorry, almost forgot,” he said, embarrassed. “I don’t know if it makes you feel better but Gaius didn’t realize he was under a curse. He didn’t even recall seeing you at all. He’s worried sick over you!” Merlin frowned momentarily and then smiled beamingly.
“That means no one will feel guilty for hurting me!”
Now it was Arthur’s turn to frown.
“That’s a strange thing to be happy about, Merlin.” Merlin merely shrugged his one shoulder and gestured for Arthur to lead the way from the room.
Just as Arthur reached for the door handle, the door swung towards him, admitting Guinevere to the room. Unthinkingly, Arthur stepped back to give her room…and collided with Merlin who hadn’t seen the door open. For one long moment, nothing happened. Guinevere smiled at Arthur and then at Merlin. Merlin stared at Arthur’s back in horror, his hands still touching the fine linen of the prince’s tunic where he had caught himself. Then Arthur turned, his face red with anger.
“Arthur, don’t do this. It’s the Mark of Malice telling you to hurt me,” Merlin pleaded with him as his eyes darted around the room, searching for a defensible position.
“No, I don’t think it is Merlin,” Arthur replied with acid in his voice. “You’re a useless servant and you deserve to learn a lesson.”
Hazily, Merlin heard Gwen’s questioning voice and then Arthur lunged at him. Merlin dodged backwards swiftly.
“Arthur, what are you doing?” Gwen screamed
Arthur ignored her, stalking Merlin backwards toward the fireplace. He swiped wildly and Merlin darted to the side to avoid it. Arthur made another grab towards him and Merlin realized too late that this was a feint. Arthur grabbed a handful of Merlin’s jacket and yanked him forward, driving his fist into Merlin’s stomach.
“Arthur!” Gwen yelled in horror.
Merlin uttered a pain-filled wheeze of breath as all the air was forced from his lungs. Before Merlin could recover, Arthur’s fist connected solidly with his cheekbone. Merlin tumbled to the floor, his head filled with sparks of light.
“Arthur,” Merlin croaked as he pulled himself into a half-seated position. His left arm curled around his belly while his right hand faced Arthur, palm out. “Please, Arthur. Stop,” he breathed.
His words were echoed by Gwen above him. She sounded frantic and angry. For a moment, she seemed to delay Arthur because Merlin was able to shift onto his side and survey the room for an exit. Then, from the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur pounce, both hands extending for Merlin’s throat. Merlin fought him off one handed but he was no match for Camelot’s most skilled knight. While he scrambled to kick and crawl away from the prince, he felt Arthur’s strong hands grip his throat. Suddenly, his head felt tight and heavy. Black fuzz bordered his vision, slowly spiraling inward.
Then Arthur’s hands released and Merlin could see again. He sucked in a grateful breath. Looking up, he saw that Gwen had wrestled Arthur away from him and was currently standing in front of the prince, blocking his view. Merlin seized the opportunity to dart around the bed, putting the frame between him and the angry Arthur.
“Arthur, what are you doing?” Gwen demanded, her voice rising to a higher pitch in alarm.
“What do you mean?” He peered at her, perplexed. He looked lost for a moment. “I don’t know. I was helping Merlin…” At his servant’s name, Arthur glanced up and made another angry lunge towards Merlin, only to be halted by Gwen’s arms.
“What is going on?” Gwen demanded. “Look at me Arthur. Just at me.”
“I’ve been cursed Gwen,” Merlin said, tiredly, from behind the bed. “Anyone who touches me tries to hurt me. Though trying to kill me is new. Of course you’d be the over achiever, Arthur.”
“Let go of me, Gwen! I need to deal with that impertinent bastard!” Arthur tried again to pull away from Gwen but she was surprisingly strong when she was determined.
“Get out, Arthur Pendragon!” She shouted at him. “If you still have any love for me, you will leave this room immediately!”
Arthur stopped short at this and stared at her with a hurt expression on his face.
“Gwen, I –“ He started but she cut him off.
“Just, go! I’ll come for you later once I have this sorted.” She pulled Arthur towards the door, angling him so that Merlin was out of view.
Once she was sure Arthur was out of the way, Gwen turned towards Merlin.
“Tell me what’s going on. All of it,” she commanded
“I found a brooch on Arthur’s saddle. Once I touched it, everyone who came into contact with me lashed out in anger. Arthur was helping me. Before he touched me.” He cast his eyes downward for a moment and sighed heavily. Then he continued, “It was called a Mark of Malice. Apparently, I have to bathe in the lake of Eiddwen and have a sorcerer incant over me.”
“Ah, that should be simple in Camelot,” Gwen said, sarcastically.
“I know. But I think I have an idea on that,” he said. He dabbed tentatively at his face, taking stock of his injuries. His fingers came away bloody. Sighing again, he reached for the looking glass on the vanity by Arthur’s bed. Peering into it, he could see that his lower lip was split on the left side. His cheek and throat were also deep red. He knew these would deepen into dark bruises in a few hours.
Gwen brought the ewer of washing water over to the side of the bed and set down a clean washing cloth. Merlin nodded his thanks. While Merlin sorted himself out, Gwen continued to plan.
“I imagine you won’t be able to ride a horse, right?” She asked. Merlin shook his head.
“Of course,” Gwen responded. “Who else is…what do we call it? Marked?”
“Percival, Arthur, Gwaine, Gaius, most of the stable boys and cooks. My horse.”
“Well, weren’t you busy,” Gwen said and Merlin scowled at her.
“I’m not exactly the most graceful person in Camelot,” he responded, sullenly.
“You have lots of friends, Merlin. That’s not a bad thing,” Gwen retorted. “I’ll find a cart and try to recruit a few knights to escort us. I’ll also bring some food. I imagine it’s been awhile since you had good food if Gaius is enchanted along with some of the kitchen staff.”
Merlin’s eyes stung with unshed tears.
“It’s been a few days, yeah,” he said, overcome by her kindness.
“I’ve got you, Merlin,” Gwen said. “We’ll get you through this.”
Now the tears fell and Merlin was powerless to stop them.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice tight and lightweight. He shifted so that he could get to his feet.
“Merlin, why don’t you stay here for a minute?” Gwen asked, quickly.
“But Arthur may come back,” he asserted.
“I’ve told him to stay away for at least an hour. Come up on the bed,” she directed. Merlin obeyed, though it hurt to move. “I’ll be back soon. Get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us.
Merlin simply nodded tiredly and curled up on the bed. It felt heavenly after nights of sleeping in the stable. He was asleep before the door shut behind Gwen.
---
“What do you think you’re doing?!” An angry voice woke him.
Merlin was on his feet with the bed between him and the voice before he was roused enough to recognize the intruder.
“How dare you?” The voice continued. Merlin saw him now and his stomach dropped. Uther, it was Uther. “I came in here looking for my son only to find his servant sleeping in his bed?”
Uther advanced on the bed while Merlin shrank into the wall on the opposite side.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he stammered quickly.
“You are the most useless, impertinent servant I have ever hired,” Uther stormed. “Maybe a day in the stocks will clear you of the notion that you are important enough to sleep in a royal bed! Guards!”
“Oh, no. Oh, no no no! Please, sire!” Merlin begged as the guards pounded in. “Please, please it won’t happen again! I’m injured! Please, sire. My collarbone is broken! I can’t stay in the stocks.”
The guards continued to come towards him, one on either side of the bed, corralling him in. He took one gauging look at them and sprang up onto the bed. He leapt over the mattress and darted past Uther. He was nearly to the open door when he felt a hand snag the back of his tunic and yank him backwards. He felt the change in the grip and heard a low growl as the enchantment worked on the guard.
Uther continued raging, unaware of what he had unleashed on Merlin.
“You insolent boy! Take your punishment like a man!”
Merlin wondered if Uther even recognized the irony in what he had said and then all thoughts were driven from him as the first guard drove his fist into Merlin’s ribs. Merlin crumpled forward and tried to back away from man, but the other guard was now at his back. As the Mark worked on the second guard, his hands clamped onto Merlin’s upper arms with bruising force. As the first guard rained blows onto Merlin’s torso and face, Uther gasped in surprise.
“What is the meaning of this?” He demanded. The guards ignored him, continuing their assault on Merlin’s unresisting form. “Stop this! I told you to restrain him and take him to the stocks!”
Merlin felt the guard who held him shrug his arm backwards and assumed Uther was trying to pull him off of him.
He was almost touched by Uther’s concern. He hadn’t expected the king to defend him. Then a particularly vicious uppercut knocked Merlin’s teeth together and sent lightning bolts across his vision. His legs crumpled beneath him.
The second guard, who was still trying to fend off Uther, merely dropped him. Merlin fell to the ground gracelessly, trying desperately to blink away the black dots overwhelming his brain. Then he heard the sound of a sword sliding from a scabbard.
“Roland, no! What are you doing?” Demanded Uther from somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder.
A blade sliced past Merlin’s eyesight and his abdomen was suddenly wet and hot. The sword disappeared from his view and Merlin heard the unmistakable sound of swords clanging together.
Then another blade was stabbing downward toward his chest. Yelling in panic, Merlin deflected the sword with the heel of his palm, pushing his body away from the blade as he did so. The tip caught his flesh anyways, scoring through the skin and muscle across Merlin’s chest. As the sword plunged into the floor, Merlin blinked gold and it stuck fast in the wood planking.
Ignoring the searing pain in his chest and the throbbing ache that was his stomach and shoulder, Merlin stumbled to his feet.
He surveyed the room and was astonished to see Uther grappling with the second guard as he tried to run at Merlin. Roland was out cold near the foot of the bed, a red welt on his temple.
“Just go!” Uther yelled as he struggled with the guard. “I’ll deal with you later!”
Merlin didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Hugging his arms over his wounds, he stumbled from the room. He fled down the stairs, ignoring the worried and surprised glances of the people he passed. Making his way to the courtyard, he prayed that Gwen was there.
As he stumbled down the courtyard stairs, he heard his name called. He looked up and there she was, worry etched on every corner of her face.
“What happened?” She breathed, extending her arms to him before quickly withdrawing them again.
“I need…someplace…safe,” he gasped. “Quickly.”
“Ummm, do you think you can make it to my house?” Gwen asked.
Merlin considered for a brief moment and nodded.
“I think…that’s our best…bet,” he whispered.
As he straightened slightly to continue walking, Gwen caught sight of his tunic and her eyes widened.
“Merlin, you’re bleeding! What happened?” She asked again.
“Uther came to Arthur’s room,” he murmured, unable to summon a louder tone.
“Uther did this to you?” Gwen asked, horrified.
Merlin shook his head. He kept his eyes forward to try to lessen his stumbling. His hand pressed into the brick and stone of the buildings along the thoroughfare, catching his balance on his staggering path.
“His guards,” he replied. He was alarmed to hear his voice slur.
Many people were beginning to stare and ask loud questions in their direction. He looked down at his torso and was shocked by the amount of blood soaking his shirt and trousers. No wonder everyone was staring.
Gwen called to the onlookers, “I’m taking him to Gaius! Don’t worry!”
Still, a shopkeeper with a worried expression on his face came around his table and made to take Merlin’s arm to steady him.
“Don’t touch me!” Merlin barked, too exhausted to be nice. The man scowled and turned back to his wares. Most of the other onlookers backed away as well.
By the time they neared Gwen’s door, Merlin was ghost white and dragging his feet. He leaned on the wall of her building and used his arm to push himself forward slowly. As soon as Gwen had the door open, Merlin staggered in and collapsed on the floor.
Once she had the door closed behind them, Gwen disappeared for a second and returned with a linen towel. She dropped it near Merlin’s sprawled arm. Merlin nodded gratefully and pressed the fabric into his chest. The pain from this action sent black sparks through his vision. His joints went slack and a buzzing noise overtook his hearing.
“Merlin!” Gwen shouted. Her voice made it seem like she had said his name multiple times already. It quavered and rocked in fear for him. He saw through his haze of pain that her hands twisted against themselves in an effort to keep her from shaking him awake.
He blinked his eyes at her slowly.
“Gwen?” He mumbled uselessly.
“What can I do?” Gwen’s voice trembled but was unmistakably commanding.
Merlin shifted carefully, sucking in a breath as movement pulled at his injuries.
“I don’t know,” he rasped. It was hard to think. He felt like his thoughts were swimming through mud. “Just whatever you do, don’t touch me, ok? Even if I bleed out, I don’t want you mad at me.” His voice sounded dreamy and far away.
“Merlin, please! I don’t want you to bleed to death,” Gwen begged. She shifted restlessly. It was clear that she wanted desperately to jump to his aid.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said again and his head drooped again.
“I…I can’t touch you, Merlin. Maybe..Maybe I could get you a needle and thread? Do you think you could sew up your wounds?” Gwen offered hopelessly.
Merlin shook his head gloomily. He could barely keep his eyes open. There was no way he could manage suturing his own wounds with one hand in his state.
“Gwen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you forgive me if I used magic?”
For a moment, Gwen just blinked at him, her eyebrows pulled down and her mouth twisted to the side.
“Magic? What?” she asked, puzzled. She tilted her head to the side and looked at him out of the side of her eye. “What do you mean, Merlin?”
She looked at him like she expected a punch line. Like any moment he would tell her this was all a big gag and they’d laugh together.
“I have magic, Gwen,” he said dejectedly. “I wanted to tell you…for so long.” He held her gaze, though his eyes welled with unshed tears.
“You? You’re not a sorcerer, Merlin.” Gwen said, definitively. She shook her head from side to side. “You can’t be.” The last word dissolved into a sob. She backed away from him.
“I am. And I can try to heal myself but we’re running out of time. Please, Gwen just don’t hate me. I don’t think I could bear it.”
A flurry of emotions sped over Gwen’s face. She tucked her lips into her teeth to hold back her crying. Her cheeks were wet with tracks of tears she didn’t recall shedding. She turned away from him as though she would flee but then she stopped. Her hands clenched and opened. Clenched and opened. Turning back to him, her expression softened. Though her lips trembled with questions she longed to ask, she visibly steeled herself.
“Can you heal yourself fully?” she asked, her voice higher than normal and taut as cat with its hackles up.
Merlin shrugged, forgetting that he didn’t have full use of his shoulders anymore. Pain rocketed through him and he closed his eyes against it.
“Merlin, please don’t pass out! Use your magic. I won’t hate you!” Gwen begged.
“It might not work,” Merlin asserted, wearily, his eyes still closed. “I’m terrible at healing myself.”
“Please, just try,” Gwen commanded.
Gathering his remaining strength, Merlin summoned his magic and incanted a spell. Warmth spread through his stomach. He watched it grow like a warm fire in his mind’s eye. Then his golden eyes rolled back into his skull and his consciousness fled.
---
He awoke to a warm pressure on his chest. It took an alarming amount of time for his eyes to focus enough to perceive what was covering him. He moved his hand to feel it and was astonished by the racing pain the movement caused through his hand and arm.
He must have made an involuntary noise at the spasm of pain because he heard shuffling footsteps and Gwen’s voice, calling.
“Oh, Merlin! You’re awake.”
Merlin was pleasantly surprised by the amount of relief he could hear in her voice. Though he knew Gwen as a kind and gentle person, he could never really trust how anyone would react to finding out he had magic.
“How are you feeling?” She asked tentatively.
“I’m…I..what is this,” Merlin murmured huskily. He wasn’t able to summon enough energy to speak louder.
“You told me I couldn’t touch you but you were bleeding rather a lot. You were able to stop the bleeding in your stomach but you, um, passed out before you could finish. I laid some blankets on you and set down some pots to weight them down.”
Merlin looked around blearily and could make out the blankets and pots now that she had identified them.
“Thank you,” he mumbled. “That was…really smart.” He pushed the blankets aside with a wooden hand. Now that he was uncovered, his stomach dropped at the extent of his injuries.
His collarbone remained broken and now, without the sling, his arm hung limp at his side. His other hand had a gash running along the palm and slicing up his pinky finger. He hadn’t even noticed it earlier. His chest was the worst looking. Blood soaked his tunic and continued to seep from the wound. Every movement pulled unbearably against the rent flesh. Even breathing was agonizing. Still, his physician’s knowledge told him that the half-healed hole in his belly was the gravest threat. He had stopped the bleeding but the abdomen was full of organs that may have been damaged. Even a tiny cut on the intestines would end with an infection. He could do nothing but hope that his first healing spell had handled that situation.
Merlin saw Gwen watching him catalog his injuries. She was twisting her hands again. Finally, she spoke, “can’t you…can’t you use your magic to heal yourself?”
Surprised by the ease of her acceptance, he asked, “aren’t you angry at me?”
Gwen shook her head swiftly. “No, I just…I only feel sorry that you didn’t tell me sooner. Oh, Merlin! This must have been so hard to keep to yourself!”
He bowed his head at this. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes but he did not let them fall. Still looking at his chest, Merlin answered Gwen’s question.
“I can’t heal myself without a better spell. I’ve used simple healing spells before or had Gaius’s spellbooks to help me.” He realized too late that this would implicate Gaius as well.
“Do you think Gaius would help you?” Gwen asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
Merlin shook his head mournfully.
“He was the first person affected by whatever curse I have on me. Every time he sees me, he gets angry and throws me out.”
Gwen pursed her lips and breathed out heavily.
“Do you think you can stop the bleeding in your chest, at least?” She asked, her hands milling around as though they sought to do something of their own volition.
He looked down and saw that his chest was still bleeding sluggishly. He nodded again, but his eyes were starting to droop closed.
“Merlin!” She shouted, her voice tight with fear for him. “Please, can you do it now? I’ll feel better leaving if I know you aren’t going to bleed to death once I’m out of the room.”
For a moment, Merlin’s blue eyes merely stared into her. Then he whispered a few strange words and his eyes turned gold for just a breath. Looking down, he saw that it hadn’t worked. He let out a low moan and heard Gwen cluck in disappointment. Then he had an idea.
“Can you get me a needle and thread? I might not be able to heal it with magic but I’ve gotten good at making objects move on their own.”
She stood up swiftly and rummaged in a drawer. She found her quarry easily and made short work of threading the needle for him. She dropped it next to him.
Using his good hand to pull the rent skin of his chest together, Merlin blinked his eyes gold and the needle floated into the air. It began sewing neatly and efficiently while Merlin bit his lip to keep from squealing in pain. It took a long time to complete the line of stitches. By the end, Merlin was sweating and nearly delirious from pain. He fell back onto the floor, exhausted.
Gwen peered at him with sympathy.
“Why don’t you get up on the bed? You’ll be more comfortable,” she offered. But Merlin was already asleep on the floor.
---
When he returned to consciousness again Gwen wasn’t in the house. He peered around him with bleary eyes, trying to get his bearings. He was momentarily disoriented by his vantage and realized he was laying on the floor. All around him were soft blankets and pillows. He could tell that Gwen had arranged it so that he was buffered on all sides by the soft bedding.
Laboriously, Merlin shifted so that he was sitting further upright. Then he peered around in the gloom of the room to see if Gwen had left him any water. He smiled widely when he saw that she had left two buckets of water and a plate of simple food within arms-length of his sleeping spot. At first, he was confused by the second bucket until he looked down at his hands. They were the deep sienna color of dried blood. Gwen had also left a clean rag draped over that bucket. Merlin dipped this into the water and used the fresh water to clean his wounds. He had to stop frequently to catch his breath and stop himself from passing out in dizzy pain. Once his physician’s assistant alter-ego was satisfied that he had cleaned enough dirt from his injuries, he used the rag to wipe down his face and hands. Though his hands were still stained red, he deemed them clean enough.
Cupping his hands, he drank his fill from the clean bucket. The water tasted heavenly to his parched throat. Then he made short work of the plate of food. It wasn’t much; just some cheese, bread and salted pork but Merlin felt much better after eating it.
Shortly after he finished his food, he heart a scuffling at the front door. He froze, fear instantly clawing at his chest.
“It’s me, Merlin!” Gwen called quietly. Merlin closed his eyes for a few seconds to compose himself again.
“I’m awake,” he responded as she pulled the door open awkwardly. As she came into view, Merlin saw that her arms were overflowing with things for him. More food, a shirt, some bandages, and several books. Merlin was rather impressed that she had managed to get it all down in one load.
Gwen dropped her goods near Merlin and stepped back. Her lips tilted into a proud little grin. His left hand bracing his chest injury from pulling too widely, Merlin reached out to inspect her prizes. There was a clean shirt, jacket and a pair of breeches. She had brought several rolls of bandages, salve, and - most crucially – several vials of pain-relieving remedies. Somehow she balanced this with a loaf of bread, a little pot of honey, and two spellbooks.
“How did you get this all down here?” He breathed in impressed astonishment.
Gwen smiled broadly and twisted side to side, pleased to have made him so happy.
“Well, Gaius and Arthur kept loading me up with stuff,” she replied.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked in surprise.
“Yes, he’s so worried for you, Merlin. He remembers bumping into you but nothing else. He was terrified that he had killed you. He went to Gaius as you had asked and even arranged for the baker to bring over his cart this evening. He’s organized a few knights to go with us as well.” She smiled fondly, remembering how quickly Arthur had mobilized a plan.
Merlin looked down suddenly as tears pinched the corners of his eyes. After days of fear, pain and loneliness, he was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of his friends.
“Oh, Merlin!” Gwen exclaimed. “Please don’t cry! You’ll make me cry and I only just got here with a heavy load of stuff. That’s no way to thank me!”
Merlin laughed and scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
Gwen grimaced.
“Oh, don’t do that. You’ve just gotten blood smeared on your face again. Here, put on the clean shirt.” Gwen rummaged through the pile and tossed a clean shirt to Merlin.
He used the rag to clean his face again and then donned the shirt. He was surprised by the weave of it. It was definitely not one of his.
Gwen saw his confusion and said, “It’s Arthur’s. He insisted that you take his shirt and jacket. His pants would never have fit you but he wanted to make sure you were warm for the journey.”
“How did you get this past Arthur,” he gestured at the spellbook.
“I have my ways,” she answered and grinned. “Do you want to try to find a spell?”
“Why don’t I read one and you read the other? We’ll find a likely spell faster that way.”
“Me? Reading spellbooks?” Gwen asked, astonished.
“They’re not going to bite,” he answered playfully. “Well, not these two at any rate.”
She widened her eyes at him over the top of the tome.
“Some of them bite?”
Merlin grinned wickedly.
“Some of them bite. Some will instantly explode if you don’t counter their enchantments. Still others appear as jibberish if you’re not well schooled enough to translate them. Sorcerers have a ton of ways to keep their spells a secret.”
“No wonder Uther banned magic,” Gwen said, without thinking.
“It’s not all bad, Gwen. Most of the spellbooks are like these two. Filled with healing spells, charms to counter crop blights, and protection enchantments. The vast majority of magic is used for good.”
“I know that,” she said into her lap. “I’m sorry, Merlin. It was a silly thing to say.”
“I’m sure this isn’t easy to take in. I appreciate you helping me, Gwen. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It’s nothing, really! I’m happy to help you.” To prove it to him, she flipped open the first spell book and began reading.
He leaned over to reach the other spell book and groaned when he realized it was just out of his reach. Gwen laughed, he voice light and playful.
“Do you just always forget that you have magic, Merlin?” Gwen asked, teasingly.
He blushed.
“Yes, I kind of do. Magic, for me, happens out of instinct. It’s mostly tied to my emotions. I don’t usually have to sit around and think of spells. Plus, I’m really not used to doing it with anyone else around,” he replied, sheepishly. Then he looked at the spell book, his eyes glowed and it jumped into his hand.
“That’s handy,” Gwen remarked. “I wish I could do that.”
“It’s quite convenient. Other than the I-might-be-burned-at-the-stake part,” he said and smiled broadly to show her that he was kidding. She pursed her lips at him and bent her head down to continue reading.
Many hours later, they both had to give up the search. They found a few likely candidates but Merlin was unable to get the incantations to work.
“It’s no use,” Merlin groaned. “I’m rubbish at pronunciation. Gaius normally has to help me.”
“Maybe Gaius has other spellbooks? Or I can get him to teach me the words?” Gwen ventured.
“There’s not enough time. It’s nearly dusk already,” Merlin lamented.
“We better get you out to the courtyard. It’s a long walk.”
Merlin made a face but nodded. Gwen gathered their bags and waited at the door for him. Gritting his teeth, Merlin pushed himself, painfully, to his feet. For a long moment, he merely leaned against the wall and panted. His head drooped and his hand turned white from the intensity of his grip on the wall. Finally, he pushed a hard breath out and started to shamble out of the cottage.
Gwen stood behind him but far enough away so that if he stumbled (which he did frequently at the best of times) she would not be close enough to touch him. They made their weary way across the courtyard. Merlin’s gaze pointed to a spot a yard ahead of his feet and Gwen’s cast cautious glances around, looking to catch anyone who might come in contact with her friend.
As they came to the predetermined spot, Gwen saw the wagon waiting for them. Four guards Gwen was not familiar with stood at the four corners. Another figure stood to the front of the wagon but his eyes were tightly bound.
Gwen breathed out a soft chuckle.
“Arthur,” she said simply.
“What? Arthur’s here?” Merlin’s head went up and he halted dead in his tracks.
“Merlin! I know that’s you. Don’t be a dodderhead and get over here,” Arthur called.
“I’m fine over here, thanks,” Merlin responded warily.
“Why are you here, Arthur?” Gwen asked, going to him.
Arthur pawed at the air until he found her arm.
“Gaius had a theory that if I could not see Merlin, I might not be triggered and it worked! I’m not getting angry. Well, no more than usual when dealing with my lazy servant,” Arthur called the last words loudly in Merlin’s direction.
“I’m not lazy! You just have unrealistic expectations,” Merlin grumbled quietly.
“I heard that!” Arthur called. Merlin made a rude gesture and Gwen pursed her lips at him.
“If you’re both finished, I think we should be going,” she said. Then when Arthur moved to climb into the front of the wagon she scolded, “you’re not thinking of coming with us, are you? You can’t stay blindfolded the whole way.”
“He’ll be in the back, I won’t see him. When we stop I can put the blindfold back on and you can lead me around.”
“Arthur,” Gwen started but Merlin interrupted.
“I know you’re trying to help, Arthur, but please stay here. I don’t think I can handle it if you get triggered again,” Merlin pleaded.
This pleading was so unlike Merlin that Arthur just nodded. Guilt tightened uncomfortably in his chest.
“If that’s what you want, Merlin,” he said.
“Please stay here. Someone needs to handle your father. He’s probably looking to cut off my head after our meeting earlier.”
“Your meeting with my father? What did you do, Merlin?” Arthur’s voice boomed in annoyance.
“Why do you always assume it was my fault?” Merlin spat indignantly.
“Cause it usually is!” Arthur yelled. Merlin made the gesture again.
One of the guards coughed in a suspiciously chuckle-like way. Arthur glared at him. Though the glare’s fierceness was greatly diminished by the blindfold, the guard straightened his face and looked down at his feet.
“Well, then I guess I’ll leave you to the capable hands of Sirs John, Richard, Miles and Gareth,” Arthur said, pointing to each guard in turn. “Men, I will accept nothing short of excellence on this mission. You will get Merlin to the waters of Eiddwen as quickly as you can and back to Camelot. His life is in your hands.”
“How touching,” Merlin said sardonically.
“I don’t feel like training a replacement so make sure he comes back with functional limbs. I don’t care about anything else,” Arthur responded tersely and stalked up the courtyard stairs.
“I never knew he cared,” Merlin mused.
“Oh, Merlin! Stop it!” Gwen chastised him but she grinned anyways. “Go on, get into the back of the wagon. We’ll take it from here.”
Merlin pulled himself into the back of the wagon laboriously. Once he was inside, he curled into the corner and pulled the blanket Gwen offered him over his body. Gwen closed the tarp covering the wagon so Merlin would not be seen by anyone in Camelot. Soon the wagon was moving slowly over the cobblestones, lulling Merlin to sleep.
---
Many hours later, Merlin woke with a pounding headache and sweat covering his skin. Arthur’s fine linen shirt clung to him oppressively. He pushed the blanket off but was still stifling. His throat felt sticky and dry, so he searched nearby for a canteen. Though it was dark, he found one quickly and drank half of it. Moving carefully, he pushed his fingers under the bandage around his stomach. As he suspected, the wound was swollen and hot to the touch; he had an infection.
With the guards on either side of the wagon, there was nothing he could do so he rolled back over and tried to sleep.
Though he did doze, his rest was fitful. As the light of dawn broke through the trees, he was disoriented and murmuring in his sleep.
“Merlin?” Gwen’s voice called from the top of a well. Merlin was down below shivering in the cold water. No that wasn’t right. She was in a tree and Merlin was trying to climb up but his legs wouldn’t move. That wasn’t right either.
He realized drowsily that he could not see. His vision was black and foreboding. It took him many tries to lift his eyelids and many more moments to focus his vision. By the time he did, Gwen had called three more times, sounding more anxious every time she said his name.
He blinked at her slowly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her hazily. He looked at her and marveled at the way the dawn light shone through her brunette curls. The light was pink and golden and reminded him of fresh eggs and his mother’s voice. Lost in his memories, he forgot to listen to her response. He squinted at her, trying to remember why she was distressed.
“…in Eiddwen. You need…the lake. We can’t get…wagon down there…” Gwen’s voice pulsed into and out of his understanding like waves on a shore. Like the water lapping at his tunic as he carried Freya into the lake.
“Merlin,” Gwen’s voice was loud and suddenly afraid. He heard a guard yell and then the unmistakable sound of armored bodies hitting the floor.
“Who is this pretty, young thing?” An unfamiliar voice drawled sibilantly.
“You stay away,” Gwen shouted. “I’ll strike you down if you come any closer.”
Merlin heard Gwen cry out in pain and his head came into sharp focus. He pulled himself into a crouch and moved to the end of the wagon.
“Now who could be in the back of this?” The voice crowed again. The tarp shifted and a man’s face appeared. Merlin threw the canteen at his head as hard as he could. Then he jumped down from the wagon, taking in the scene around him as he did.
The guards were all incapacitated, lying in ungraceful mounds around the cart. Gwen was still conscious but held her hand to her chest as though it pained her.
“Well, this is a surprise,” the man said in irritation. “I had hoped to get Prince Arthur with the curse. I should have known his weaselly little servant would be the one to touch the Mark. I guess my plans will have to change.”
He came into view and Merlin recognized him as the sorcerer who they had defeated in the village a week prior. Merlin had watched the man fall in the melee. He had been the one to send a spear through his chest, in fact, though no one realized it after the fight.
“How did you survive?” He asked, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, which might have worked if he wasn’t swaying ever so slightly.
“I have my ways,” the sorcerer replied, smiling obnoxiously. “How did you?”
Merlin simply glared at him.
“It’s a terrible curse, isn’t it? Everyone you love turning on you. Hurting you. Nearly killing you, by the looks of it,” the sorcerer swaggered. “I thought it would be a great punishment for that cocky prince. If he played his cards right maybe King Uther would have done him in. Though I doubt Uther would dirty his hands to touch anyone, even his own son.”
While the sorcerer blathered on, Merlin saw Gwen slowly sneaking behind the man. Merlin shifted so that the man’s eyes would follow him.
“Too bad you got me instead. Did you really think Arthur would clean his own saddle?”
The man shrugged.
“It was a last ditch effort, I admit. I only had a few seconds after I faked my death to plant the Mark and his saddle was the closest thing to hand,” the man waved his arm casually and Gwen fell backward. “None of that now,” he said over his shoulder to her. “You’re going to help me get into the castle.”
“Why would we do that?” Merlin growled.
“Well, you need a sorcerer to lift that curse, buddy boy. I’ll lift the curse after you help me into the castle.”
“So it doesn’t have to be a high priestess?” Merlin asked whimsically. “Thanks for confirming that for me”
“What?” The sorcerer asked stupidly as Merlin pushed his palm towards him, sending a cyclone of turbulent air at him. The man was thrown from his feet and landed with a meaty smack against a rock.
Merlin did not cast him another glance, darting to where Gwen lay.
“Gwen,” he asked fearfully.
She blinked at him and pushed herself upright.
“I’m alright, Merlin. Go get in the water. Let’s end this.”
The path skirted along the lake bed but was several feet above the water. Large rocks paved the shoreline and Merlin gingerly stepped onto the water slicked surface of the boulders. He was clumsy at the best of times. Now, he had one arm and his strength was quickly failing him. It would be a cruel joke indeed to have survived all that torment just to slip off a rock and drown in the water below.
His foot stepped into the water and suddenly he was thrown face first into the lake. The water was freezing and he lost the little air in his lungs as he gasped it out in shock. An unseen weight pinned him down, his head underwater. He focused his mind and sent a wave of pure magic behind him. The weight eased and he was able to breathe again. Sputtering to his feet he peered through his sodden lashes to try to locate the sorcerer.
“How did you do that?” The man demanded.
“Do what?” Merlin asked. “This?” He enveloped the man with invisible force, pulling him out onto the rocks.
“You’re not chanting words,” the sorcerer’s voice trembled in fear.
“I don’t need to,” Merlin responded, throwing the man to his knees.
“Please,” the man begged. “You’re like me! We could be rid of the Pendragons. You could use your magic openly!”
“I’m not interested in any plots that would see Arthur dead,” Merlin spat.
“You could rule us,” the man pleaded, crawling forward. “You’re powerful, I can see that. You’re wasted on that ungrateful bastard. He’d kill you if he knew.”
“Maybe, but I’m not going-“ he never finished his sentence as the man pounced, knocking Merlin backwards into the water.
Merlin instinctively pushed against him with this magic. The man’s weight floated off of him but he was thrown deeper into the water. Suddenly, his disoriented mind could not find the surface. The water was dark and cold. Merlin couldn’t see more than four inches in front of his eyes. He pawed at the water ineffectively with one good arm and numb legs. Then his air was gone and black ink seemed to be replacing the water around him.
Before the darkness could claim him, he felt arms cradling his back and drawing him upward. Suddenly, his mouth was out of the water and he breathed air in grateful desperation. He turned to find his savior and found Gwen, a furious look on her face.
“Say the bloody magical words, you idiot!” She screamed at him. “I’ve dragged you all this way, say the damn words!” She looked ready to throttle him but, amazingly, she held back.
Merlin spat out the words, “hluttre pes mann wyrgthe!” His eyes went golden and a warm flush momentarily warmed his icy limbs.
“Did it work?” He asked.
Gwen threw her arms around him, pinning him to her. For one, brief moment Merlin thought they had failed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he gripped Gwen’s arms in an effort to push her off.
“It worked!” She said into his ear. Gripping his elbows gently, she pulled away so that she could look into his face. “Are you alright, Merlin?”
Merlin grinned back, matching her intensity.
“I am now,” he said, happily. They both tread water for a few moment, savoring their success.
Then, Merlin cast his glance around them.
“What about the sorcerer?” He asked her, apprehension in his tone.
Gwen shook her head.
“He’s dead. Your last spell threw him into the rocks. I saw him floating over there.”
“Is it bad that I want to leave him there?” Merlin asked dully.
Gwen pursed her lips and shook her head.
“He deserves it,” she replied. Merlin dipped lower in the water, his arms losing strength as the last of his adrenaline fled his body. “Come on,” Gwen said. “Let’s get you back to the wagon. You need dry clothes and a good long rest.”
She wrapped her arms around him and buoyed him as his strength failed. He laid his head on her shoulder and let her guide him home.