Chapter 30

Merlin woke up. A second later, he wished he hadn't. He hurt in places that he never realized possible, like his cheeks and his ear lobes and the muscles in his forearms. But as the first moments passed, and he regained a sense of himself, he realized that he didn't have a headache, and that was significant. He didn't have a fever either.

A guttural voice said something that his ears recognized as foreign, alien, both in sound and in meaning. Realizing his situation, taken by the Saxons, injured and alone, he ached to know what they were saying. He felt the magic leave him.

Suddenly, the words made sense, once he got past the sound, he understood the meaning well enough. "He's awaking."

Another voice answered in that same throaty language, this one deeper and richer in tone, "Good. Will he be ready to talk?"

The first man answered, "Yes. He is too far away now for the sickening spell to harm him. He will feel like he is waking after a long illness. He will be disoriented, probably won't remember all the details surrounding why he is here. But he will be lucid."

"Well done, Alric. Is the binding potion ready?"

"Yes Octa. It's right here."

Merlin heard something being passed from one man to another. Then the man called Octa asked one more question.

"How powerful is he? Really?"

Alric answered, "Hard to say in his state. But, he is directly responsible for the deaths of at least twenty of our sorcerers, most of them were younglings, but that was no small feat."

"Wake him. Stay close."

A pungent odor assaulted Merlin's nose and then his eyes and lungs burned. He opened his stinging watery eyes and cleared his burning throat. Smelling salts, Merlin thought as he brought his eyes around to focus on the man in front of him. The man hauled him into a sitting position, which made his muscles protest. Merlin's body, weak and hurting, slumped sideways onto the headboard.

The other man stood off to one side, and looked at him in a thoughtful, almost confused way. His head was titled off to one side, his eyes so light blue, they were almost the grey of sword steel. He spoke in Merlin's tongue, raspy and accented, but the words were in his language.

"Who are you?"

Merlin studied him for a moment before deciding on a truthful answer, "Merlin."

"And your father?"

Merlin studied him again, "Balinor."

His eyebrows shot straight up, "Merlin son of Balinor. No wonder you give me such problems."

"Who are you?" Merlin asked, pulling himself more upright.

"I am Octa, son of Hengist."

The name Hengist caught in Merlin's craw and brought up a vague history lesson that Gaius provided one night over some lentil soup.

"So," Merlin said, "You are the son of the Hengist, the Saxon Lord who King Vortigern brought to Britain."

He continued, "And after the defeat of Vortigern by Uther, my father, brothers, and all of our soldiers were driven across the narrow seas. You are the son of Balinor, grandson of Draig, a man who could bend the ancient dragons to his will. Draig and his companions were our greatest threat. If my sources are correct, your grandfather was later murdered by the same king he served. "

His grandfather and his father both died at hands of Uther? He hadn't needed to know that.

"But you, Merlin son of Balinor, you have been traveling in the company of Arthur son of Uther. You are companions with the son of the man who killed your grandfather. You practice magic, illegal in your land. Your leaders would kill you and have killed nearly every person like you."

Merlin said nothing. He held the man in a cold stare.

Octa stayed silent for a moment, studying Merlin's face, his eyes narrowing.

Finally he said, "In my kingdom, you would not be hunted man. In my kingdom, men like you are revered as gods in human form. You would serve no one."

"I would serve you," Merlin pointed out.

"We Saxons take good care of our sorcerers. Our magicians are either advisors in royal house, or we make them lords. So yes, you would serve me, as do all of my advisors and lords."

"That is not different from my life now. I'm advising Arthur in everything but name and I'm as much of a Lord now as I would ever want to be."

Octa regarded him with puzzled stared. "From what I understand, people like you in Camelot cannot legally use their magic. If your power were discovered, you would be executed."

Merlin gave a noncommittal shrug, neither confirming nor denying the claim.

"In my kingdom, sorcerers are free to use their magic, so long as it isn't used to hurt others or destabilize the realm. They enjoy high status in our society. I would be even be willing to make you part of my family. My sister's daughter is about your age. She is beautiful, strong, and has a bit of magic herself. She would be pleased to be married to a sorcerer and dragon lord."

Merlin's foggy brain stopped in its tracks. He narrowed his eyes, "You suggest that you would make me a member of your own family and give me a position in your court. You think I believe you?"

"You should, my offer is good," Octa said. "You are Merlin, son of Balinor, son of Draig, a dragon lord. I would rejoice at such an alliance. I would even consider my own daughter, but she is a youngling, only six years old. I will not allow her into marriage until she is grown."

"You are offering me your daughter in marriage?"

"Yes if you are willing to wait for her. My niece would hold my allegiance as strongly as my own child. She is a beauty, seventeen this spring."

Merlin found his mouth dropping in shock. Octa meant it. He wanted Merlin on his side, enough that he would make Merlin a member of his family.

"What would you require from me?" Merlin asked.

"I would ask that you order your dragon to destroy the rest of the kingdoms of Britain. The kingdoms are weak, they would offer no resistance to the dragon. The war would be over in days with minimal deaths. Most of the peasant folk would survive. We would begin a new world in the spring."

"And if I don't agree?"

"Then at the very least, I ask you to take no action at all."

"Do nothing?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, exactly."

"And for my doing nothing, you would still offer your daughter or niece in marriage?"

"Absolutely."

"So say I agree, and I do nothing. What of me afterward, what of the survivors of the war?" Merlin asked.

"You would be established in your own house at my right hand. Marriage in the spring, perhaps an heir by the next spring."

"What of the survivors of the attack?"

Octa gave him a grim smile, "The women and children we will spare, so long as they aren't an heir to an estate. Some of the male peasants and the elderly we will spare. We have no grudge against the people of this land. We need a place of our own. We took a liking to this realm when we fought with Vortigern."

"What of my people? My friends, my family?"

"If you can guarantee their loyalty, we will spare whomever you wish, with one exception. I cannot leave Arthur Pendragon alive. You understand."

Merlin, befuddled as he was, understood that. Octa couldn't leave Arthur behind as a rallying point for anyone.

Merlin's thoughts ground to a halt. Octa's offer had merit. With these people, he would have power, position, and prestige. He wouldn't be hunted anymore. He wouldn't be despised anyone. He could be himself without effort. His own self would be something so valuable to these people that the man offered his six year old daughter in marriage. His six year old daughter! Octa offered him a position of royalty, something that Uther would never do. Arthur looked at him cross eyed when Merlin brought Morgana flowers after her room had started on fire. Merlin couldn't even be nice to Morgana, who Uther never legitimized as his heir. Octa wanted him related as closely as family.

He would be free. Free to practice magic, free to study, free to do whatever he wanted to do. At the moment, in Camelot, Merlin was still under a sentence of death.

Octa had even agreed to spare anyone who Merlin could guarantee loyalty. His mother would be spared, as would the rest of his family, Malcolm, Isrith, his aunt and his uncle. Gaius would be spared. The more Merlin considered it, the more sense it made. He would be able to spare Gwen and Elyan, Gwaine and Lancelot. Maybe even Leon, although that would be trickier, he was of noble birth.

The only people who wouldn't survive would be Arthur and Uther. Merlin thought about all the mean things Arthur had done to him over the years: Goblets to the back of his head, forcing him to stay awake for hours on end, dragging him on endless hunting trips, lists of chores that Merlin had no chance of ever finishing, and the predictable, but annoying, taunts and teases that Arthur dished out.

It would easy, Merlin realized, to hate his former master. It would easy for Merlin to kill Uther with the very magic the man so desperately tried to erase from the world. It would be easy to do, Merlin realized with a flutter in his stomach. He wouldn't even have to watch. One order to Kilgarrah and it would be done, Merlin wouldn't even have to watch or be present to destroy all of Camelot, all of Albion. He could stay here and sleep.

His body ached again. He wanted nothing more than to drift back into the blackness that hid behind his eye lids, like a bubbling stream in the forest. It would easy to be done fighting forever.

Merlin tasted the magic being woven through his thoughts like bitter herbs that Gaius gave him for headaches. Magic was at work, lulling his senses, hampering his mind. A spark at the back of his brain brought forward the hideous images of the army that he and Malcolm stopped, his old neighbor dropping to his knees under the weight of armor, the scared looks of the young boys in the camp after the battle, who couldn't remember their names or where they lived. More images flashed forward, the ill and wounded at Byron's castle, Gaius's pale, pinched face, his mother lying in the infirmary in a coma. Merlin felt the tingling pain from the night his fever broke like it was a fresh wound.

Octa would make him royalty, but that never make Octa noble. What kind of world did Merlin want to live in? The kind where power answered every problem and people's minds were subverted to the will of magic? He could almost see why Uther went crazy about magic.

As his own thoughts fought through the fog in his brain, Merlin realized that Octa would never spare his friends, they were knights of Camelot. Gaius almost died because of the magic they used and as a magic user, Gaius would be a threat. Merlin's mother might make it out alive, but Gwen, being loved by Arthur would be killed for the same reason Arthur had to die. Every person he loved would die. They would be replaced by a man who cared more about power than the welfare of his own child. Who offered a six year old into a marriage contract?

Merlin gave Octa a grim smile, "I have to admit, it's tempting."

Octa returned it with a bright smile of his own that seemed out of place on his brutish face. "You will do it."

"I didn't say that," Merlin said with a grin, "I said it was tempting. I'm sure it would have been less tempting if Alric hadn't been laying a spell through your words."

Octa's face grew white and glanced to Alric who was standing at mouth of the tent. Alric met his gaze with a shocked one of his own.

Merlin continued, "You are many things, sire, and I must admit, you are generous, but you are not a man to follow. If you were, you wouldn't need to lay spells across the minds of so many to gain an army."

Octa's face grew red, "This offer is genuine. Join us."

"Or what?" Merlin asked. "You'll kill me? Or try to bind my powers with that potion you have sitting on the table."

Merlin concentrated his vision on the table and without a word, he knocked it over. All the contents of the small table fell to the earthen floor of the tent, including the binding potion, which spilled onto the dirt.

Octa's eyes flashed. "Careful Merlin, son of Balinor. Your options are thin. An army marches on your capital as we speak. No kingdom has even come close to defeating us. Together the nations of Britain might have had a chance to push us off this island. With Albion divided and half the nations conquered, there is no chance."

That was probably true, Merlin conceded, but he stayed silent.

"You have magical talent, and I would welcome you into my own family. But you have shown that you can be a threat. If you do not join us, you leave me no choice but to kill you."

Merlin's chin jutted up. "I'd like to see you try."

Octa smiled, "That sounds like an invitation. Alric."

From the entrance to the tent, Alric raised his hand, incanted a few low sounding words.

Pain ripped through Merlin's insides. His very guts felt like they were spilling out over the floor. His blood was fire, his skin rippled with electricity, his muscles pulled together in painful waves. It seemed to go on and on. Merlin lost all track of time and place.

Then suddenly, the pain was gone. It was the most wonderful feeling Merlin had ever had. Merlin opened his eyes and discovered that he was lying on his face on the ground. The earth smelled damp under his nose. Alric flipped him over with his boot. It wasn't painful exactly, but it sent tingles through Merlin's body.

Octa towered over him. His voice seemed to boom in Merlin's ears, "Magic can kill easily. Or I could run a sword through your heart this moment. You faced our most inexperienced trainees in the field, when your presence was a surprise. We know who you are, we know what you are, we can control you. We can end your life at our convenience. But your death would serve no purpose. It would be a waste of time and talent. Join us."

Merlin stared at him from his back on the ground. He was too weak to rise, or utter magic. The dampness of the earth seeped into his clothing. "I will not join you."

Octa tilted his head from side to side as if Merlin were a puzzling map. Then he looked over to Alric.

Back in their native tongue Alric said, "We have time, Octa. Camelot will fall in a week's time whether or not we have his help. Once his city and people are destroyed, he might join us."

"Would his skill be worth the effort?"

"His skill is rudimentary. It is his power that is tempting. Our spells sometimes require great power. We could latch a spell onto him and it would reach many miles. Many more than we could do now."

"And if he doesn't join us?" Octa asked. "He is a threat."

"I can keep him unconscious. The spells are harsh to the body, but with the power he has, it shouldn't kill him. Once his prince is dead, I can wake him and we can talk again. If he doesn't join us, it's of little matter. We can kill him as easily then as now."

"It is a good plan. Proceed."

Merlin felt the spell beginning to take hold before Alric said any words. It wound around him like giant snake, coiling tighter and tighter. He wouldn't be able to help. He had to help. Camelot was in danger. He couldn't let it happen. The coils tightened around him.

Then Alric chanted a few words and Merlin felt the magic hit him like a blow from a mace. The coils spread from the center of his chest, tingling through his legs and within seconds he could no longer feel them. The numbness spread up his body. The coma, Merlin realized too late. It was going to take him too.

Octa looked at him again, "We'll discuss your allegiance later, Merlin son of Balinor."

The numbness his chest and arms, then his neck until finally, Merlin passed out.