Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  “-You said so yourself. Gaius has always been there for you.” Merlin laughed bitterly, turning his back on the man. “Yet you are happy to watch him suffer under the tyranny of your father-”

  “-There was nothing I could do. Believe me I tried-”

  “-I don’t believe you!” Merlin’s voice became chaotic, his magic rustling the flames of the candles.

  “Where is he? Is he here, in Albion?”

  “I don’t know-“ Arthur sighed, a grimace dusting his features. He knew nothing about Gaius, or his whereabouts. His father and Morgause were the only two who did he assumed. The druid in front of him burst.

  “-How can you not know?! It’s you that did this!”

  “This was not my doing. I tried to save him-” Arthur took a step forwards angrily.

  “-Well you didn’t try hard enough-”

  “-Neither did you.” Arthur spat maliciously, dishing out the implications with as much venom as Merlin had done.

  The statement hit Merlin in the heart, his anger faltering. Memories flashed before his eyes. He had been right next to Gaius. He had tried to break him free, used all of his magic to try and break the chains. He had tried to get Gaius out, but it was no use. Arthur Pendragon was right. It seemed in this, they were both to blame in different ways. Arthur tried to stop him going to the labs, but it wasn’t enough. Merlin tried to free him from the labs, it wasn’t enough- no.

  How dare the son a Pendragon condemn Emrys for something that was his fault. Merlin was not going to take blame for this. Gaius was in there due to the fault of four people: Uther, Balinor, Morgause and Arthur. Growling, he leant towards the blonde man.

  “You’re wrong. You don’t know what’s down there. I do. You’re just a coward, too afraid to stand up for what is right, always doing what daddy tells you. But no,” raising a hand to his chin in mock thinking, Merlin narrows his eyes, spinning around to face the man. “It’s not just that. You’re too much of a self-centred pratface to swallow your own pride and admit that what you did was wrong, what you’re doing is wrong. You Arthur Pendragon-”

  Raising his eyebrows, feigning ignorance, Arthur shot him a dark look.

  “-Are you finished?” Well, that shut Merlin up. Clenching his fists, Merlin swallowed-hard, feeling humiliation at the thought he had tried to be civil to this man, and the notion that he had to watch his every move. How could this man be his destiny?

  “I’m done listening.” Arthur said with an exaggerated yawn, propping himself down onto the mattress. “I’m going to sleep now, you know,” he pulled a face. “Waiting for a vision and all.”

  Scoffing, Merlin made his way towards the door, refusing to sleep in the same room as the man. He’d sleep outside, against the door if his father was really that adamant about him being watched.

  “Let’s hope it’s a killer quest.”

  Chapter 14

  It was a beautiful sunrise. Merlin had watched it from a branch, in one of the tallest trees silently despite knowing exactly where he was supposed to be. He’d watched the orange sun slowly make its way up the horizon, igniting a magnificent array of colours in the sky. Now the sun was peeking over the edge of the forests, blinding and brilliant. The verdant trees were enriched by its light, the forest was alive and burnished with its endless wisdom and timeless splendour. A smile dusted his face gently, his skin warm and relishing in the touch of those delicate rays. The creases of skin under his eyes were marked with signs of fatigue, revealing that he had little rest tonight. How could he possibly sleep, knowing that Arthur Pendragon had also known Gaius?

  Merlin was sure if he told his father the truth, Balinor would hold the blonde to ruthless interrogation, demanding him to reveal Gaius’ location. He may have even held Arthur to ransom. It seemed like a good idea, Merlin had been stirring over solutions all through the night. However, ransom had one consequence- the risk that Uther Pendragon’s men would come for Arthur, and then come for the druids, and anarchy would break lose. Ealdor wasn’t prepared for a war, especially over one man. If Gaius was to return, it would have to be solved diplomatically, through some kind of negotiation. The dark reality had finally sunken in a few hours ago: they were too early on to negotiate. This whole situation with Camelot Enterprise was going to take time; it was not going to be easy.

  Merlin plucked a few leaves from one of the smaller branches, tossing them out into the wind’s arms softly. He watched them dance around each other hypnotically, calming his spirit for a moment. Something inside him told him Gaius was alive. He wasn’t safe, he wasn’t okay – but he was alive. And for now, Merlin knew that would have to be enough. When the sun had fully risen, he decided it was time to head back to the clan, knowing that his father would summon him any moment.

  When he entered Ealdor, he spotted a crowd of people near the assembly point. His father and Hunith were on the platform, Arthur Pendragon facing them. Merlin stumbled through the crowd, reaching the front just in time to hear the blonde speak.

  “I am to ride out to the Perilous lands, and bring back the Trident of the Fisher King.”

  Gaping – because it’s the most imbecilic, treacherous quest he’s ever heard of – Merlin took a final step forwards and his eyes burned into the back of the prat’s head.

  “What?” he choked.

  Arthur – eyes sparkling in the sunlight, skin glowing strikingly - turned round to face the druid, wondering how long he had been standing there. Apparently, not for long if Balinor’s expression was anything to go by. It shifted into one of discontent. He sighed, gazing over to his son, Merlin twisted his lips together.

  “Merlin, you and only you are allowed to accompany Arthur on this quest.”

  He was already late to the meeting, showing any sign of defiance would be stupid. Instead, he nodded obediently, silently.

  “Then it’s settled,” Arthur said, with a quality of leadership Merlin had previously overlooked. “Merlin and I will leave at the next dawn.”

  At this, Balinor and Hunith left the platform, the small crowd departed, all but one defiant man. He walked towards Merlin, concern etched in his face. Gripping his friend by the arm, Will shot Arthur a sceptic glance.

  “I don’t trust him Merlin.” He said, not caring that Arthur was in earshot.

  “Will,” Merlin sighed, not wanting to fight with his friend again. All they had done since Arthur’s arrival was argue. “It’ll be fine. If Arthur successfully completes this quest, then he will have proved-“

  “-Don’t give me that crap Merlin.” The man lividly hissed. “No matter what he does, he will never earn my respect or my trust.”

  Pursing his lips together, Merlin studied his friend’s complexion with tired, sad eyes. Patting him on the shoulder, Merlin started walking. Arthur followed like a loyal dog, part of him afraid to be left alone with William. He had expressed his hatred for Arthur several times, and this was only his third day in Ealdor.

  “Couldn’t you have chosen something a bit easier!” the troubled druid complained from in front.

  “So Mr. Magic man is all scared now he has to come with me?” Arthur said with a dark laugh. “I’m meant to be proving my worth to the people…besides, didn’t you hope for it to be a killer quest?”

  That, Merlin couldn’t deny. He didn’t reply, continuing to walk to the outskirts of the settlement.

  “Where are you going?!” Arthur asked, fumbling after him.

  Halting for a moment, Merlin faced the irritating man, eyes narrowed. This prat, why couldn’t he leave him in peace for just a few minutes?! He was already going to have to endure an epic quest with him which would no doubt take a few days just to get to the Perilous Lands. The Perilous Lands, The Fisher King. Merlin stirred over Arthur’s vision. Perhaps he had been given this vision because of the legends about-

  “I’m not your keeper, go and occupy yourself.”

  Arthur grinned, seeming to have some kind of powerful information that stated otherwise. It was so easy to wind Me
rlin up.

  “Actually you kind of are. According to your father,” He recited sardonically, “I need to be supervised at all times.”

  Merlin rolled his eyes agitatedly, recalling Balinor’s words.

  “By you.” Arthur added for good measure, just to watch the druid’s displeasure increase.

  Turning away for a moment, Merlin scratched his head. He couldn’t defy his father’s orders again…not with Arthur Pendragon. Groaning, he jabbed a finger into Arthur’s arm.

  “One word – I mean it, just one - and I’ll push you off the canopy.”

  ♦☼♦

  “So you’ve been accepted into Ealdor.” The man said, voice stern and severe.

  Nodding, Arthur took a step forwards.

  “I have to pass some kind of ‘test’. Then they’re going to teach me their ways of living, so in time yes. I believe I will be accepted.” Slowly, he cautiously met his father’s eyes.

  “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me Arthur.” The words were meant to warm Arthur’s heart, but they just stung, because he knew what was coming. “You are to return to Camelot Base at least once a week to update me with your progress on the mission.”

  Nodding obediently, Arthur made his way to the doorway.

  “Yes father. I promise I won’t fail you.”

  Chapter 15

  “In my vision, the perilous lands seemed… “ Furrowing his brow, Arthur searched for the appropriate word. “Perilous.”

  “Oh it is,” Merlin mused with a coy smile, walking in front through the vast Ealden forest, satchel flung over his shoulders. The morning sunlight was trickling down hypnotically onto his fresh face, adding an ethereal glow to his features.

  “The sun never sleeps, the castle ruins are guarded by a Manticore, Ortheneu

  hiding in every dark alcove…” pausing for no doubt dramatic effect, the druid raised his eyebrows.

  “They say the Fisher King himself supposedly still sits on his throne.”

  In all honesty, every word that Merlin had just said sounded ridiculous to Arthur’s ears. Manticores, Ortheneu– though Arthur had no idea what on earth an Orthena was – sounded like creatures of myth. Though to dismiss them, in Albion of all places, was foolish. For now, he may well have to accept that they were potential risks to the quest. Brushing these thoughts from his mind, Arthur remembered is father’s words from yesterday. It was a reminder of his true quest, beyond all of this acceptance and approval; there was something greater at stake. Feigning nonchalance, Arthur ruffled a hand through his hair, pulling a distorted facial expression.

  “So,” he began, figuring now he had Merlin alone he may as well get a head start. “Ealdor. You’ve lived there your whole life?”

  Surprised by the abrupt change in conversation, Merlin met the blonde’s eyes hesitantly. Then, with a fond smile, he nodded. He was unsure where the young Pendragon was steering this conversation, but for now he put the probing down to inquisitiveness alone. Nonetheless, he kept his answer short and factual, revealing no more than it needed to. His father had warned him of giving away too much information before the quest was completed.

  “Yes. Our clan has lived there for centuries.”

  Pursing his lips in acknowledgement, Arthur sauntered a little closer to the druid. He knew now he was about to step into unmarked territory, cross over a line that had only just been drawn. But it was necessary, his father needed answers, and the answer itself was highly important. The longer it took to get said answer, the worse the outcome would be for sure.

  “….Ever thought about moving?” he asked, not expecting the sudden venomous look from Merlin.

  It appeared Merlin was smarter than he looked. Arthur tried not to smirk at the reddened ears. Turning all his attention towards the blonde man, Merlin shot him a glare. They weren’t exactly well enough acquainted to be talking of such things, and to even suggest such a topic, after the events that had passed – it was suspicious. Thus, he responded bitterly. It was his duty to protect the people after all.

  “What do you mean by that?” Merlin literally growled, seeming less and less comfortable with this conversation.

  Shrugging, continuing to act rather indolently, Arthur ignored the druid’s sceptic scrutiny.

  “You know…moving elsewhere, finding another place to settle,” for good measure, Arthur decided he should probably try and make his words a little more subtle. “We do it all the time where I’m from.”

  That statement seemed to appease Merlin, settling the abrupt restless energy inside him. Relief spread over Arthur as he watched the raven-haired man shift back to a normal demeanour.

  “That’s not how the druids work,” Merlin replied, startled at the notion of just leaving your homeland. “We live here not because we chose to, but because the land has accepted us. Because the land chose us.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Arthur choked back his laughter at the words. He failed to suppress all of it, the druid noticed and sighed. Of course the prat wouldn’t understand such things…yet.

  “If you’re trying to sound wise Merlin, you’re failing.”

  This was rewarded with a cantankerous response.

  “And if you’re trying to be a prat, congratulations! You’re succeeding.”

  “Comebacks aren’t really your forte are they?” Arthur sneered with a grin, thoroughly enjoying the agitated tone emerging in Merlin’s voice.

  “No, but magic is, and I can obliterate you with a single word if I wanted to,” holding up a hand dramatically, Merlin gasped. “Actually, I can do so without words-”

  “-Oh let me guess,” pushing the druid’s hand out of his way, Arthur sniggered. “You’re about to tell me that you’re the mighty Emrys!”

  Merlin remained enigmatically silent to this remark, merely offering Arthur a dangerously normal smile. For reasons Arthur didn’t understand, the druid seemed highly amused by his insult. It was strangely unnerving. Perhaps Merlin was Emrys- don’t be ridiculous! Glancing over towards the lanky, clumsy, big-eared man, Arthur smirked. Emrys was a divine being…practically a deity. He was certain that didn’t come with a scrawny body, out-of-proportion features and lack of a brain. Rolling his eyes at the very thought of Merlin being Emrys, Arthur pushed the obstructing branch in front away from his vision.

  It revealed that they had finally reached the edge of the forest. Any trace of vegetation withered away gradually from this point. Succulent, healthy plants dwindled into dry, brittle skeletons under the scrutiny of the sun. He could already feel the heat of the Perilous Lands already hurtling towards him, latching onto his skin hungrily. Luckily he was still protected by the final, majestic tree, kept in its shadow whilst Merlin seemed to be deliberating their next plan of action. With a resigned sigh, he turned to Arthur with a frown. The creases in his brow gestured concern.

  “You must conserve your energy. We’re not far, but the heat will make it difficult for us.” Merlin explained, slipping out of his brown jacket quickly.

  He peeled off his scarf, revealing his prominent collarbone and strangely hypnotic skin. Arthur was too….fixated to react when Merlin reached into his back pocket, grabbing the knife. Snapping out his daze – it was the heat, getting to him for sure - Arthur watched the druid curiously. He was cutting up his brown boots, removing the upper layer that hugged his calves. Next came his tatty trousers. The blonde refused to acknowledge the ridiculous pang of dismay he felt for those trousers, it wasn’t like he was fond of them or anything. Merlin effortlessly created a tear above the knee, turning them into shorts. Arthur didn’t realise he was looking at the rags in Merlin’s hands until the druid chuckled.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a grin, placing the rags beside his jacket under the large tree. “I’ll just magic it all back together when we get back.”

  Raising his eyebrows, as if to signify that this didn’t really bother him, Arthur snorted.

  “I don’t really care what happens to your clothes Merlin, they’re hideous anyway.” H
e caught the knife when Merlin tossed it over his way, copying the druid’s actions.

  Sliding the knife back into his pocket, Arthur placed his rags beside the pile Merlin had created, casting the druid one hesitant look before setting his eyes on the horizon. It was blurred and skewed by the heat. No signs of life were apparent beyond this edge of the forest, the environment was clearly too aggressive to encourage animals to stay. Merlin was the first to take a step out into the hostile environment, Arthur followed and immediately wished he’d remembered his sunglasses. The heat acted like a ferocious buffer, pushing them back resiliently. It seemed to favour the concept of dehydration, not at all welcoming to the pair. Squinting, Merlin turned back to Arthur, beckoning him forwards with a hand gesture. Sweat was already forming on his brow, resting on the hollows of his cheeks before dripping down past those plump li-

  “-The longer you stand there like a prat, the weaker you’ll get.” Merlin hissed, voice croaky and strained.

  It appeared he had not been exaggerating about the extremities of Albion. One moment you were in an endless, lush forest. The next you were in a hot, harsh desert landscape. Not wasting his energy to reply, which seemed to please Merlin, Arthur trundled forwards in the crimson sand towards the druid. The pair lumbered through the sand. After walking for around twenty minutes, Arthur’s breathing became ragged, his heart racing. His skin was burnishing in this blistering heat. And he was certain another minute in this climate would finish him off. Merlin noticed the shift in his behaviour, and pressed his own clammy palm to the man’s forehead. He furrowed his brow; Arthur was too hot, abnormally hot. Removing his hand, Merlin wrapped a hand around his shoulder urgently.

  Brushing Merlin off, Arthur grunted wordlessly, continuing to move forwards. He had to get to the Fisher King and get that trident. There was no time to rest. The longer the quest took, the harder it would be to impress the People. But Merlin, the stubborn druid, was having none of that.

  “Arthur,” he croaked. “you don’t look right-”