Stand Tall

Part Nine: Disappeared

A dark-haired young man waited by the castle gate, his nervous breath white against the cold night air. Merlin could see a trail of smoke from the courtyard, and was beginning to panic. Just a little bit. He heard the soft and cautious footfalls coming nearer and nearer.

"What took you so long?" he asked the young woman who appeared beside him a moment later with a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry. I had to distract them somehow, and then pick up a few supplies on the way. Come on. If we get going now, we could make it there by morning. If we're in good luck, we'll find a boat as well," Braith said enthusiastically. The two set off, into the pitch black woods. Merlin's torch gave off a small halo of light that surrounded only the two of them.

"What do you mean 'find a boat?'" he asked at length. "Do we have to steal one?"

"Not exactly. When I first landed here, we came North to reach Camelot. So now we must go south to the water. We came on several ships - Unferth has not left yet, and neither have several of my father's men. So, there must be at least one vessel for us."

Both stared into the darkness as they walked, the eerie woods chilling their bones. In the silence that followed, they both thought of one thing - one foolish thing. Their kiss. Why? There was no point in pursuing anything of that sort, unless war was what they wanted.

He is an Briton, she thought - he might just be attracted to my position.

She is a Dane, he thought - she could be trying to use me.

"What is it like in Dane?" Merlin asked, to stop that track of thinking. He knew her better than that, and she him.

"Well, the mead's a lot better, I can tell you that much..."

And so they continued, chatting to pass the time, and to keep each other awake. "You have any siblings?"

"Not really. I had half-siblings by my mother, but they died before I was born. It was just me. I spent my days running with a family of brothers my father let stay at court. Since I was raised with them, I guess I act a bit like a one," Braith looked downward. For the first time, she regretted not being a little more... delicate.

"You don't need to be ashamed of it."

"Thank you. I suppose I just missed them - we were close."

Her mention of being close to some Northern men gave Merlin a rush of guilt. As similar as he was to her, their worlds were so separate - his feelings towards her so alien. He said the first thing that came to mind in another effort to distract himself. "What about your mother?"

Something in the young woman's face changed. "She died, less than a year after I was born. Complications, illness. I never knew her," she said, not making eye contact. He wished then, desperately, to take her hand.

"I'm sorry, I should have thought-"

"'s all right. You didn't know."

"The same thing happened to Arthur, if it's any consolation. And I never really knew my father."

"Truly?"

He beamed, as she tucked her arm around his as they walked. "Yeah. You're only as lonely as you want to be."

---

The sun was beginning to make its first appearance as they heard the sound of water from nearby. Merlin stared through the trees, not seeing any close edge to the tree-line. His body ached from the long night's hike, but he felt apprehension sharpen his senses.

"How much farther did you say it was?"

"It can't be much," she said, ever confident. "The flod - ach, why do I forget the word?"

"The sea?"

"No, not the sea. The... Ah, well, you'll know in a moment."

With the effect of a lightning strike, man's voice called out through the woods, and the two travelers dropped to the pine-covered ground behind a pair of trees. "Jeg vil komme tilbage," the man said, seemingly unaware of their presence. The warlock's eyes darted to his comrade, wondering for a brief moment if she'd tricked him, though not daring to speak. All her attention was keyed ahead, towards the sound. Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes.

Without looking back, the Dane motioned for him to follow. They stood and, wary but undeterred, crept towards the source of the voice. As the two got closer, more noises became apparent - the sound of boards knocking together, the sound of running water.

At last they came to a break in the grove, and the young man realized what she'd meant by flod. Not sea - river. The great river Itchen, which lead out to sea.

He and Braith were standing atop a rocky outcropping at the side of a ravine. Below them, the ground leveled out on either side of a dark river, boards nailed together and staked into the ground on each bank to create makeshift docks. On the near side, there was - just as she'd said - a single ship moored. A group of men toiled away beside a fire on the opposite side of the river, speaking in a harsh tongue. 

"There should be one on our bank," Braith whispered. "We'll get down there and find someone with sense to speak to."

"Right. And how do we know they won't kill us on sight?" the warlock parried back.

She regarded him with an expression his master often gave him. "Because we look like commoners, and I speak their language. Take that off," she demanded of Merlin, tugging at his scarf. "You're not the prince's servant here." The warlock knew better than to second guess her, and slowly took off the red strip of cloth. Braith shoved it into her satchel, savoring for a glance his sun-virgin skin.

"Just... say nothing before I do."

Her last sentiment reminded him of Arthur, and he smiled ever so faintly. The two slipped down into the ravine, as careful as they could be.

The young woman's boots clanked across the wood of the makeshift dock as she approached the ship. A carved dragon head snarled down at them as they passed, Merlin watching it wearily as if it might come alive to snap at him. The white paint on it's teeth was chipped, and yellowing with age; barnacles stuck to a hull encrusted with salt from so many voyages. But beneath the wear, this ship was a thing of beauty - the likes of which the young servant had never seen.  A man with dark-blonde hair stood within it, up the great mast and stitching the sail where it had torn.

Striding up beside the great wooden beast, Braith spoke to the man, her tone kept casual. "Er du selv en sømand?" (Are you yourself a sailor?)

"Selvfølgelig." (Of course.) The man responded, sliding effortlessly down and walking over to her after a glance of surprise in her direction. "Hvad har du brug for?" (What do you need?)

"Can you speak the Briton's language?" Merlin asked as politely as he could, distressed by the lack of understanding. The Dane pressed her lips together in annoyance.

"Yes, I can." His accent was thinner than the young woman's.

"We are seeking passage to Dane. Can you take us there?" Braith asked, praying that this man had never seen her face before.

"I've been instructed to wait for Jarl Beowulf's thanes-" he began to say, until she pulled a handful of gold coins from her satchel. His brows rose - Merlin's too.

"We have an important message for the king. I'll say it again - we need passage."

He looked her in the eyes for a long beat, sizing her up, judging her mettle. "I can take you when I find the other crew members," the man said, almost in disbelief. "I am Ariksson, if you need me." He left, and the two travelers were alone, with the exception of a single crow, rattling in its cage at the prow.

Braith exhaled loudly in disbelief. It had worked. She was going back to her mother country, the land on which she was born, raised, and would someday rule.

But, somehow, it was starting to feel like she had a home in Camelot too.