Chapter 1: The Quarry

It was back in Ealdor, nearly ten days ago, that Arthur had received his last bit of useful information regarding their quarry. Since then, nothing else had surfaced; no other tips or rumors had made themselves known. Arthur mused over this as they rode, back hunched, his deep frown evident all over his body. Fifteen days of riding around in circles in these damnable woods, thick enough to make the sunny day look cloudy. What was he going to tell his father when he returned empty-handed?

He held up his fist. "Halt!"

Without another word he slithered off his horse and marched down to the stream bed they had been following for the past few hours. Behind him he could hear the other men and knights dismounting, someone said something about breaking for midday. Gods, was it midday already? Arthur slapped the measly trickle of water in the streambed and rubbed the damp over the back of his neck. It was cool. Arthur huffed and wiped his brow of sweat. Almost felt like the forest was trying to suffocate him. He let himself slide down from his crouch until he sat on his arse on the bank of the creek.

"Water, sire?" A waterskin was thrust into his line of vision.

Arthur took it. "Thanks, Leon." He drank, the water was warm and stale.

"Is everything alright, sire?" Leon stood beside Arthur, eyeing the stream as well.

Arthur tossed the waterskin aside and hauled himself to his feet again. "Yes, well, I just felt like a brief pause would be appropriate." He turned to the trees beyond the creek and gestured beyond, opening his mouth to say something about the distance they had come, or how hot it was right now in the height of summer, but the words died. Something moved there, in the trees. He squinted.

"Yes, good choice, sire." Leon was agreeing with him.

Arthur stepped back one pace, then launched himself across the stream. He just made it across the water and clambered up the other back, staring wildly into the forest beyond.

"Sire?"

"Something out there." Arthur murmured, his mind immediately flying to Cenred's men, who had tracked them before. His hand was on his sword. "Come." Almost as soon as he gave the command he heard Leon splash into the water behind him. "The men stay here." He added.

"Yes, sire." Leon's sword rang a little as he drew it. Doubtless, Arthur thought, Leon was probably recalling the few close calls they had with Cenred's men so far.

They crept through the trees, side by side. Arthur's eyes swept from side to side, desperately hoping they were pursuing a frightened deer or something of the like. We are far into Essetir, Arthur reminded himself, far from any help and far from father. His gut clenched up like it did every time before a battle. If he were wearing his mail shirt he might feel a little braver, but he was forced to leave any indication that he was a warrior, or for that matter royalty, back in Camelot. They were all traveling incognito, in the guise of peasants and craftsmen. There was a rustling ahead of them. Arthur stiffened against a tree and tried to take cover. Arthur spared a glance for Leon, who met his eyes and nodded, similarly posing against a tree.

Above them, a crack rang out.

Arthur whipped his eyes upward. A blur of brown and green, streaking like lighting.

He leapt. Arthur, Leon, and a massive tree branch fell to the ground in sync.

And Arthur, Leon, and the tree branch were incredibly still for a minute or so, staring at each other.

"Well…" Leon sighed from his position beneath Arthur. "That was…"

"Unexpected?" Arthur offered, pulling himself off of Leon and drawing his sword. "Was it just a dead branch?"

Leon remained prone on the ground, covered in leaves, the tree branch laying where he had been standing a minute before. He shook his head. "It is covered in green leaves, sire."

Arthur turned in a slow circle, eyeing their surroundings, and finding the trees just as empty as they were before the bough fell. "This does not feel right, Leon." They had been at this mission for two months now. Arthur and the best knights of Camelot had been tramping around in Essetir, in enemy lands, for two months, stumbling around in search of a myth. A myth that certainly did not exist. Nothing felt right. Arthur longed to be back home, to cease this fool's errand.

"I will admit, sire." Leon was stumbling to his feet now and looking about to see where his sword had fallen. "That log falling," He kicked at the enormous branch to make his point. "Was very unlucky. But it was merely an accident. How could Cenred's men set up such a ridiculous plan- "

Arthur sighed and cut in. "Leon, no." He sheathed he sword, slamming it back into the scabbard. "This whole quest has been cursed from the start." He stepped over the massive branch with some difficulty. "Let us just return back to camp. Make ready to head back to Camelot today."

"Sire" Leon gasped behind him.

"This hunt is over." Arthur insisted.

"But sire!"

"No, Leon!" Arthur whirled around, only to have Leon shove him to the ground. "What-?!"

Arthur soon clamped his mouth shut, teeth clicking, when he saw what Leon was now pointing at; a mop of black hair was bobbing in amongst the trees, moving away from their position.

"Look, sire."

Arthur pushed himself up a little, looking over the branch that had fallen. The person was disappearing into the forest, but not before Arthur caught sight of a brown tunic and a blue kerchief. Arthur clambered over the broken bough and began stalking in the direction the person was going. This was the first person they had seen since Ealdor, since they had entered the forest that the other villagers had called "haunted". Ten days ago, Arthur had considered that a good lead. They were looking for someone who could harness magic, what better place than a forest that was reputed to be haunted? He kept his footsteps quiet and light, just like when he was tracking a deer.

"Is that what you saw earlier, sire, at the stream?" Leon whispered from behind him. He was following just as quietly.

"I believe so, Leon." Arthur muttered over his shoulder. But it did not bode well. Whoever this person was, they had been watching Arthur and his men, maybe even following them too. And as far-fetched as it seemed, they may have orchestrated the branch falling so near them. The fact that he may need to silence someone to protect his own identity worried at Arthur's conscience. He bit his lip and kept following, just able to keep the figure within sight.

Within a few minutes, the person seemed to slow down and it was easier to follow. Arthur and Leon slowed down as well, watching and waiting. Arthur studied the boy, as he could now fully see the figure that had been fleeing the scene earlier. He had a mess of black hair, brown and dirty clothes hung on his frame, a tunic and trousers. The faded blue kerchief fluttered at his thin neck. He carried nothing and occasionally cast his eyes upward to the flashes of blue sky between thick leaves. Eventually a hovel came into view. It was almost invisible until the boy had ducked under the doorway. Arthur frowned, suddenly seeing it. It was tucked into a few large boulders and the small hill they had formed, looking like it had been half naturally occuring and half dug out by hand. Small logs were piled nearby next to a cold, long-ago smothered campfire.

"None of the villagers mentioned anyone living out here. Did not they say this forest was inhabited by spirits?" Leon spoke softly, watching the small cave next to Arthur's shoulder.

The boy left the hovel again and looked to be busy with starting the campfire again. "Mayhap the boy is the spirit they spoke of." Arthur murmured. The lad was piling kindling on the campfire.

"Should we approach?" Leon shifted a little.

They watched the boy stand up and stare down at the pile of wood.

"Wait, we should- " But then Arthur felt a flash of panic fly like lightning through his being.

The kindling had erupted with flames. The boy hadn't touched it. He had simply stared at it.

"By the gods!" Leon choked out. "Did he-?" Words seemed to fail Leon as well.

Was it a trick? Had he blinked? Arthur closed his gaping mouth and swallowed hard. Despite his surprise, he had a job to do.

"Stay." Arthur hissed to Sir Leon. He stood up from his crouch and marched forward.

"You there!" Arthur called, hands limp by his sides.

The boy froze like a doe in the range of his arrow, large eyes wide and unblinking. Arthur finally got a good look at the dirt-smudged face and glimpsed thin, high cheeks and large ears that looked as though the child hadn't grown into them just yet. The boy glanced back at his hovel and then at Arthur again.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "I mean you no harm." He spoke loudly and slowly. Arthur held up his hands, knowing to keep them well away from his sword, and trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

The boy did not seem to understand as he promptly yanked a large stick from his roaring campfire and brandished the blackened and glowing red-tipped end towards Arthur. He seemed to back up a little too.

Arthur took another hesitant step towards the boy. He hoped the child was not dumb or deaf, otherwise this would be a difficult conversation. "Are you alone…out here?"

The boy's mouth seemed clamped shut and Arthur could see his teeth worrying at his lower lip. He did not lower the stick.

Arthur sighed and plopped down in the dirt near the campfire, though the heat of it combined with the hot day was making sweat prickle all over his skin. This was ridiculous. His mind was still reeling with the idea that this scrawny brat may be what he had been looking for near two months. And the prospect irritated him. Now that the completion of his quest was staring him in his face, standing right there, Arthur just wanted to get it over with. This was his chance to go home.

"I will not hurt you, I swear it." Arthur spoke slowly again. "I want to talk to you."

He watched Arthur sitting on the ground for a moment. Then the boy slowly lowered the stick but did not relax even a hairsbreadth. His big eyes almost glowed. It must be a trick of the light, the sunlight streaming down from the canopy above must be making the child's eyes look golden. Arthur kept himself very still and was determined to not scare this slip of a thing away. He opened his mouth again to introduce himself.

"Who are you?" The boy croaked.

Arthur frowned at the interruption. He continued. "I am Prince Arthur of Camelot, son of King Uther Pendragon. I seek a powerful user of magic."

"M-…Magic is outlawed." The boy stuttered at first and Arthur could tell by the shaking of his thin knees that he was terrified.

"Not so in Camelot, uh… What may I call you?"

The child shook his head and took another few steps backward, away from the fire and away from Arthur. "I should go."

"No!" Arthur reached for the boy. "We want to help you."

The child's eyes flickered to the undergrowth where Leon was hiding. "I need to go." And like a shadow he flickered away, up and over the boulders that formed his hovel, and was gone. Just like that.

"Arse!" Arthur was probably swearing more at himself than the boy that had just dematerialized before his eyes. He scrambled to his feet, running before he was fully standing up, and followed the boy. A rustling behind him told Arthur that Leon was close behind him. "He has bolted!"

"I saw, sire."

They both crested the small hill that the hovel lay under. Damn it all, that runt was fast. Arthur growled as he sprinted. Damn it all! He could just barely see the mop of black hair bouncing in between the trees. He could not let this pipsqueak get away, not if his sorry arse was the key to finally going back to Camelot. The small figure tore through the trees, weaving back and forth. It was all Arthur could do to keep the boy in sight. His lungs burned. Leon sounded just as winded beside him.

Arthur saw the road that he and his knights had been traveling on, two muddy wheel ruts that twisted and turned through the woods. And he spotted a group of men and horses. Arthur squinted. No, those were not his men. Probably a patrol from Cenred, judging by their livery.

And as Arthur sped towards them, he saw the boy run smack into one of the horses. He fell back with a thud. Bloody oaf.

Arthur set his jaw and kept running. He and Leon finally got to the edge of the road, out of breath and slick with sweat. He felt like he was about to vomit.

The boy had startled the horses and men. One had dismounted and had a sword pointed down at the boy lying in the rut of the road. He was pale, sweating like Arthur, and shaking.

Arthur pointed weakly at the child on the ground. "That…" He gasped. "That's- "

The man who held the boy at sword-point looked over at Arthur. He was dressed well in fine clothes and some armor. He wore no helm. "Do you know this ruffian here?"

"Yes, yes" Arthur nodded and struggled to catch his breath. Damn, that child had been fast! "He's mine. My-…my brother, we were just- " Arthur made sure to turn his body so his tunic hid the sword at his side. He hoped Leon was doing the same. It would be strange to see craftsmen with swords, not to mention, carrying one was illegal in some places.

The man with the sword pointed at the boy leaned over and shot out an arm. He wrapped his gloved had about the boy's wrist and hauled him roughly upward and onto his feet.

"Let go!" The boy tried to stomp on the man's foot.

Arthur gritted his teeth.

"This little brat," The man handed the boy's wrist to another soldier beside him and sheathed his sword. "Just assaulted myself and my party. Now, you tell me that he is under your care, you brother, you say?"

"Yes, my lord." Arthur lowered his eyes, assuming that the man would appreciate the title due to some crest he saw but could not place just yet. "He is just a boy, please do not- "

The boy almost shrieked. "Let me go!" And he struggled while the soldier held his arms behind his back.

The nobleman's hand shot out and struck the boy across the face. Blood spurted. Arthur winced. But the boy became silent. And Arthur noticed that Leon had handfuls of Arthur's shirt in his grip and was holding him back. He tried to relax.

"I think we need to take this insolent child back to headquarters so the appropriate punishment may be given. In fact," The man turned back to Arthur and Leon. "I will be requiring all three of you to accompany my company and I. Guards!" He gestured to his men.

They began to move toward Arthur and Leon. And Arthur's mind was blank. What to do? He could not possibly fight them all off. He locked eyes with the boy. It was a dark stare, floating just above a sea of blood. From the boy's nose a river of blood pooled, stark against his pale skin. Arthur's skin crawled. He heard Leon draw his sword. Things were moving too fast.

And suddenly, the men in clinking mail that had been about to grab Arthur and Leon were gone. Screams instead. Arthur blinked. An arrow whizzed by his ear. Leon gripped his shoulder. Half the soldiers were spread over the road, lying prone, rubbing sore limbs. The horses had bolted and their hoofbeats were becoming distant.

Arthur jumped forward and yanked the boy to his feet, pulling him out of the road and into the trees. And the boy complied. He ran alongside him, his face a bloody mess. Arthur saw that it stained his teeth.

A deep thud echoed through Arthur's body. He felt like he had been punched in the arm, hard. He knew he had not though. Looking down at his left shoulder, he saw the barb of an arrow that had gone straight through the meat of his upper arm and pierced thorugh the other side. Not the first time. Gods, but it felt like it. He allowed himself to slow for a moment then regained his pace. It throbbed and all Arthur wanted to do was stop and agonize over it for a few minutes. But they had no time. The shouts behind them were evidence enough of that.

They kept going. Arthur was beginning to feel dizzy. They were following the boy again. They were passing the hovel. Arthur skidded to a stop, grabbing the boy by the arm to stop him as well.

"Halt…" He wheezed, feeling himself leaning a little. "Halt…we- we hide here."

The boy nodded and crawled inside. Arthur followed with Leon behind him.

Arthur was careful not to jostle or knock the arrow that pierced his arm, gritting his teeth and settling down in the small cave. It was a small dwelling with a clean floor, a few candles for light, and a small nest of furs and blankets that were doubtless some sort of a bed. The ceiling was low, only just shorter than the young boy who kept the hovel, and much too short for Arthur, who remaining sitting. Any attempt to stand would earn him a bruised skull. A few herbs hung, bundled, from the low ceiling. Flowers, too.

They all crouched there, listening hard and trying not to pant so loud. They heard voices in the distance, and some drew closer after a while. But it was not long until they faded all together. Arthur was not sure how long they sat there listening.

Arthur sighed. The pain in his arm was growing. The arrow had to come out. He would need help. "Leon- " He began.

"Sire!" Leon hissed and Arthur could feel his right-hand man gently take his arm.

Arthur was certain Leon was being as careful as he could, but still he could not help but yelp a little as the knight moved his arm. Any movement pulled on the pierced muscles in his arm. Gods, it hurt. He felt sweat trickling down the length of his back.

"You are wounded." Leon was inspecting the arrow.

"I had not noticed, Sir Leon." Arthur rolled his eyes a little and he caught sight of the boy, crouched there in the semi-darkness with them. Blood from a doubtless broken nose had run the length of the boy's chin and continued on down his neck, staining the kerchief that was tied there. He was staring at Arthur and Leon. He looked a frightful mess. "Are you alright?" Arthur asked the boy.

"I cannot mend this here." Leon muttered. "I need our supplies."

Arthur kept his eyes on the boy. "Go then." He waved a hand toward the entrance of the hovel. "Tell the men. I will wait here with…the boy."

"Are you sure that's wise, sire, he- "

"Hurry, Sir Leon. I would like this bolt out of me soon." Arthur shifted, trying to get comfortable as he leaned on the cave wall.

Leon soon disappeared and left Arthur and the boy alone.

"What is your name?" Arthur asked.

The boy sat with his knees hugged to his chest and remained silent, watching Arthur.

Arthur tried again. "What do you call yourself?"

"Merlin." The child finally whispered. "I'm Merlin."

"Your nose looks broken, Merlin." Arthur gestured towards the boy. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Merlin shook his head.

"Good. Well, I mean, not about your nose, of course." Arthur sighed. His arm throbbed in time to his heartbeat and the pain made his chest feel tight. If this was what they had been hunting all this time, if Merlin was his quarry, Arthur had no clue what to do next. He had to try to explain that the boy would be safer in Camelot. But he was not sure how to do that. The child was an imbecile. Running away. Picking fights with Cenred's men. And more. How could he reason with a wild, skittish animal?

"I can help…your arm." Merlin whispered.

A little thrill ran down Arthur's spine. "Can you?" He asked.

"Yes."

Arthur knew better than to refuse, even though the sick feeling in his chest told him he would be at the mercy of a child, a child that was very much frightened of him. But this might be a step in gaining Merlin's trust. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Please do." He tried to smile but he could feel it faltering despite himself.

Merlin, covered in dark red blood, crawled closer until he sat beside Arthur. "You won't…you won't arrest me?"

"No, I want to protect you, Merlin. You are in danger here because of your- " Arthur struggled for the right word. "Talents?"

Merlin nodded.

Arthur blinked and all the candles sitting about the cave were suddenly lit. There was a little more light now. He started a little, but stayed where he was. Merlin was studying his arm and the arrow that sat embedded in the flesh there.

"I'm gonna break it."

"My arm?!" Arthur squawked.

Merlin smiled for the first time. "The- the pointy bit on the arrow. I'm gonna break that off an- and pull it all out."

Arthur still did not feel quite safe trusting this brat with his royal person. But negotiations sometimes took strange turns. And this might be the act to get the boy's trust. He grit his teeth and told himself he would be home soon. You will be home soon, Arthur. He finally nodded. "Get on with it then."

"Okay." The boy's hands were shaking as he reached towards the shaft.

Arthur felt nothing but the pain when Merlin's hands closed around the arrow and he felt it…ugh…move inside his flesh. Arthur bit his lip. The pain grew along with a ringing in his ears. Something snapped. A lightning bolt. Arthur gasped.

Arthur sat up from a slouch, blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You fainted." Merlin was still sitting beside him, the blood on his chin drying sluggishly. He held up the two pieces of arrow that Arthur supposed had been inside his arm until quite recently.

"I did no such thing." Arthur looked down at his arm. It bled little. But it was enough. "Do you have something I could press to this, to stop the bleeding?" He was beginning to feel a touch nauseous and his head swam if he thought too fast.

"Yes, um, lay down…please?" Merlin set aside the broken arrow.

Arthur complied. The hard-packed dirt floor bore into his back.

Merlin leaned over Arthur's wound. He pulled the sleeve of Arthur's tunic up slowly and gently with small fingers. The dim candlelight fell on the boy's hands as he shifted. Blood-stained hands. In a slight haze, Arthur found that image wrong, that hands so small should not be covered in dark, drying blood. A drop of something warm fell on his wound. Arthur's eyes flickered to it and saw it was a drop of blood. Two more followed, pitter-patting down on Arthur's ruined arm, before Arthur realized that they had come from Merlin's bleeding nose.

"Sorry." Merlin had noticed too and swiped at his nose with his sleeve before continuing his work. With the sleeve now fully pushed away, Merlin laid his hands on either side of the wound.

"What are you-" Arthur's question died on his lips as he felt his wound, slowly and painfully, knitting back together. His body felt like it was vibrating on the cold, dirt floor. And Merlin seemed to be quivering too. And as soon as it began, it stopped. Merlin rocked back onto his arse, panting, but smiling again. It was something wavering and frightened, but a smile nonetheless.

And Arthur looked at his wound, or where it used to be, and saw nothing but an ugly, circular, white scar. "By the Gods…" He whispered. "How did you-? What did you-?" He couldn't quite get the question out.

"Sire!" Sir Leon's voice from outside reached Arthur's ears.

"I am here!" Arthur called back and looked over at Merlin. The boy looked like a rabbit caught in its burrow, eyes wide. "All will be well, Merlin. I will escort you to Camelot, where you will be safe."

"Are- are you a knight?"

"I am."

"Do you swear…on your honor, a-as a knight?"

"I swear it."

They both crawled out of Merlin's hovel and were met with Arthur's entire company of knights arriving into the small clearing, with Sir Leon at the head.

"I have the bandages, sire." Leon set a saddlebag down and beckoned to Arthur.

Arthur looked down at Merlin. The brat had better not bolt again. Merlin looked pale and shaky, covered in a sheen of sweat. His face still stark red with blood and a black eye was sluggishly forming on that small face. But he gave Arthur a nod. Arthur sighed inwardly with relief. "No need, Leon. Our friend Merlin has patched me up quite nicely."

Leon looked up from his unpacking, staring at Merlin, as were all the other men and knights. All noise died down, voices fell silent.

"Camelot and I are indebted to Merlin. We will escort him back to Camelot, unharmed, where he will be safe from those that would do him harm." He addressed his men. "I suggest we travel as far as we can today and make camp at sundown. We go home, to Camelot." Arthur watched as smiles erupted over the faces of his companions. He was glad that they were glad. They were going home. Arthur called a soldier over and ordered him to make a packhorse ready for Merlin to ride and to help the boy clean his face, making sure Merlin followed the soldier's lead.

Once Merlin was across the cleaning, out of earshot, Leon spoke. "Are you sure, Sire, that he is the one we are looking for?"

Arthur rolled up his sleeve and showed Sir Leon the pale, white scar on his arm. "He healed me, Leon, without so much as an incantation or herbs or potions or anything." Arthur watched the skinny, pale boy mount a packhorse. "We have found Emrys. Father will be pleased."