Merlyn's Final Truth

The Darkest Hour P2

When she met his gaze, Arthur couldn't help but compare her to a wounded deer, her sad eyes staring at him unblinkingly.

"My mother, my father, my little sister, they're..."

"It's all right." the prince whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Someone attacked them."

Drea nodded, her gaze falling to the floor, tears running down her flushed cheeks.

"Who?"

"There was no one. Just... shapes." she explained, her breath quickening, as if she were recalling something so very terrifying. But then, Arthur supposed, to a village girl, any sort of warrior would be a threat, no matter their skills.

"You didn't see their faces?" he asked, realising that this may be a little more tricky than he'd first thought. If Drea couldn't identify her attackers, there was little chance of his knights catching them.

But the girl shook her head frantically, squeezing her eyes shut, seeming to relive some terrible memory. "They had no faces. I-I keep telling you. They were there, but... they weren't there. They moved so quickly. It was as if they weren't real, but... they must have been. I-I could hear the people screaming... and then... silence. They were all... dead."

Drea began to cry again, hiding her face in her hands. Arthur took her by the shoulders, hoping his gentle touch would soothe her.

"Hey, thank you." he whispered, pushing her into Gaius' awaiting arms. He would be best suited to deal with her trauma.

Arthur turned back to his uncle, trying to make sense of what he'd heard. "Where is this village?"

"Howden. It's to the east of the White Mountains. No more than half a day's hard ride."

"Ready the men." the regent ordered realising that, if he was to understand what Drea was describing, he would have to see it himself.

~

Arthur had taken his best knights, alongside Merlyn, of course, on the excursion to Howden, racing amongst the trees towards the village. The servant lagged behind them, the whispers of the Cailleach still crawling under her skin. She shivered, on edge, spooked by every sudden movement. Something was so very wrong with the world, a ghostly murmur of broken magic, a tear in the very fabric of reality. It felt as if there had been a shift in her very destiny, in her soul.

In the distance, she could hear what sounded like a woodpecker, the sudden noise startling her in her unnerved state. She gasped, trying to pull herself together. It may have been a while since she'd faced a major threat, but that was no excuse for her sudden jumpiness.

"Merlyn, do you need your comfort blanket?" Arthur sneered, evidently oblivious to the complete wrongness of the world.

She grimaced, in no mood for such jests. "What do you mean?"

"You're making me edgy." the prince stated, glancing at her worriedly.

Merlyn was about to reply when a sudden movement caught her eye. She turned, only to see Lancelot's horse whinny, shaking its head with pompous displeasure. Why the knight had been chosen for this mission, the servant didn't know. He was meant to be spending his time with Gwen, not risking his life.

"That's a horse." Arthur sighed.

Merlyn looked out into the trees, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach. "Maybe it sensed something."

"Yes, that you're a clotpole." the prince smirked, annoyingly triumphant.

Merlyn scowled. "That's my word."