Merlin: The Light of Eriador

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Merlin felt stunned at his own boldness.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” whispered Prince Odran.  He was pulling the Druid black cloak closer to his face.  All trace of the green Vallonian tunic had been removed from his outfit.

They had decided, along with Glinda, the Druid leader’s wife, to make it appear as though they had escaped.  They had tied her up in the tent along with her son, William; a situation which the young boy had found rather amusing.  He kept giggling and talking about the good “joke” they were doing to his father.  Then, Merlin had pronounced the spell that would put them both to sleep for a short time.  Now, his head was throbbing, but it had been the only way to make it convincing without injuring the woman or the child.

Merlin pulled the brown hood of his own cloak over his head and glanced rapidly at their surroundings.  It was nighttime now and all of the men seemed to have left their positions for some unknown reason.  The few tents were vacant.  A few horses were tied to a tree and were unwatched.  It was dark and the camp was only partially lit by a few fires that were slowly going out.  It was almost too good to be true.

“This isn’t a good plan, Merlin,” said Odran quietly.

“If you have a better one, be my guest.”

“Well, it depends.”

“On what?”

Odran stared at him inquiringly, but the young sorcerer felt feverish and tired and he didn’t feel like arguing.

“If they got here on horses, then there must be a way out of these woods,” he said stubbornly.  “If you have anything else to suggest…”

“Like I said, it depends,” said Odran, cutting him off.

The prince pulled his arm before Merlin could make a move.

“If we were to encounter my brother, how powerful are you?  Could you take him on?”

“No!” cried out Merlin forcefully, but he regretted it as soon as he saw the look on Odran’s face.  “Not with that curse on me.  I’m not trained or anything.  All this talk about my being special…  Well, let’s just say it’s a lot bigger than that.  It isn’t about me.  It’s about Arthur and Camelot.”

There was a short pause during which the Vallonian prince seemed to think.

“What if we could break that curse?”

Merlin felt powerless.  The vision had only been about him.  He had no idea what it could mean.

“I don’t know how,” he admitted.

Odran’s smirk was intriguing.  “Suppose that I know someone who might.”

“Who do you mean?”

There was a noise like broken branches and many footsteps.  

Odran gasped.  “Too late.  Here they come.”

He pulled Merlin’s arm, this time to bring him behind a fallen tree trunk where both of them got a better look of the group of men who were walking back towards the tents.

Merlin’s inside twisted painfully as soon as he saw him.  “Arthur…” he breathed out.

“They have my father too,” murmured Odran, “but where is…?”

But Merlin was already moving, going from tree trunk to tree trunk under the cover of darkness.  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t use his magic.   There was no way that he was going back to Camelot without Arthur.  He looked around, and then he saw the horses.  The tallest one, a magnificent black animal, had a saddle with bags and gears attached to it.  Merlin lifted a heavy black blanket only to find an old sword.  It didn’t look like much, it was even a bit rusty, but it was a weapon.