Chapter 18: Prisoners
Will's head shot up from where he'd been dozing as the barred door over the cave slammed open. Before anyone inside could react, a familiar figure in too-big robes was tossed in unceremoniously and the door was closed again. Morgana was the first to move. "Merlin!" she exclaimed, and rushed to her husband's side. "Oh, you idiot ... what have you done?"
"Apparently," Merlin muttered, "found my lovely wife. Have they hurt you, Morgana?"
Morgana snorted derisively. "Out of this cage, Nimueh would never be able to hurt me," she told him. She hauled the sorcerer to his feet. He dusted off his robes, looking annoyed. "Where are the children?"
"Safe, last I knew," Merlin answered, and everyone assembled breathed a sigh of relief. "Except ... Will, I'm sorry. Ellen—she's dead."
Will jerked upright, his eyes widening. "Dead? But how?"
Merlin explained everything that had happened since the group had been taken and Merlin had been injured. The prisoners listened silently, and Will covered his face when he heard about Ellen's death and what Merlin had been forced to do to Lana once more. "I can't believe Alan's wife is dead," he whispered. "God rest her soul ... how could this have happened? Why is this happening again? I thought we'd finally won peace for our children."
Rapunzel took a more cynical look at it. "We were in too deep not to get involved again," she said. "And in a world of heroes and villains, the villains are bound to act up every now and again. The only people to blame for the problem is ourselves for our stupidity in falling into Nimueh's trap. We could've prevented this if we'd been on top of things and not gotten ourselves captured."
"Wherever the blame lies does not matter anymore," Guy put in. "The die have been cast, and blood has been shed. What we need to focus on now is getting out of here, finding Rachel, and defeating Nimueh."
Will drew his knees to his chest. "How do you suggest we do that?" he asked. "In case you haven't noticed, Gisborne, we're locked in a cell. That's not an easy fix."
"We have a sorcerer, a sorceress, and a woman with magic hair," Guy said. "I'm certain we can figure something out."
"Where exactly is Rachel?" Merlin asked, glancing around.
"They took her out of the cell, and we haven't seen her since," Rapunzel answered, tossing her waist-length hair over her shoulder. "The little monsters. I'll make them pay when we get out of here."
"If we get out of here," Morgana put in.
"When we get out of here," Merlin corrected her, lightening the blow with a little smile. "I'm going to try and establish a mental communication with Rachel. I've done it before, I should be able to do it again, even without my magic. It's not very difficult."
Will rested his chin on his knees. Please let it work, Lord. Help us to escape.
Merlin's eyes were closed, his lips moving soundlessly. A bit of sweat touched his brow, and Will's eyebrows shot up. Not very difficult, hm? It looked difficult to Will, sort of like Merlin had a fever. Perhaps he'd underestimated how hard it actually would be.
Without warning, Merlin fell backwards, gasping like he'd run for miles. Morgana, instead of bending over him in concern, jumped back, visibly startled. Will stood up and extended a hand to Merlin, pulling the sorcerer into a seated position. Merlin didn't look very happy. "Well?" Guy said. His tone was grim; apparently, Will wasn't the only one expecting news of failure.
It was far worse than that. "I established the communication," Merlin said, meeting Guy's eyes with no hint of expression on his face. "But I couldn't find any hint of where she was, or even speak with her."
Guy looked away, breathing slowly, trying to maintain control. "Then what good was it? What did you find out?" he demanded.
The sorcerer dragged a hand through his hair. "All I could feel was pain. Extreme pain. The only conclusion I can draw from it is that Nimueh is torturing her in some terrible manner. I'm sorry, Guy. I wish I could give you happier news."
"Then we need to escape. We have to help her," Guy insisted.
Merlin shook his head. "There's little hope of us being able to escape alone. I'm afraid our hopes lie with the children."
"Then we should pray for their safety," Will put in. "For all of them."
"I agree," Merlin said. "Heaven only knows they'll need it."
. . . . . . . . . .
Gwaine was pacing—again. Rampion was tempted to tell him to stop for the tenth time, but by now she'd discovered that it wouldn't do her any good. Not that she could blame him for his anxiety. He was worried over his brother's safety and probably maddened by his inaction, forced to guard a bard who seemed to be showing no signs of waking up any time soon. As if he'd read her mind, he burst out, "I wish we could do something! What if something terrible is happening right now, and if we'd been there, we could've stopped it?"
Rampion leaned against the tree behind her, adopting a look of exasperation. "The best thing we can do is wait here for them to come back. Unless you're planning on leaving Lana here, alone and unconscious, with no means of defending herself?"
"We can take her with us," Gwaine suggested.
Rampion rolled her eyes. "And then if action starts and you're dragging her around like a deadweight? Chances are, both of you would be killed. We need to listen to what Emrys and Eve told us to do. Wait until she wakes up, then you can go charging off like the mad man that you are."
Gwaine groaned and sank to the ground, looking positively miserable. "I just want to do something useful for once."
"You pulled Lana from the water," Rampion reminded him.
"And she had already drowned. I couldn't save Ellen and I just got tied to a stake in The Six Swans Story! You're right—I'm a deadweight." Gwaine sighed.
Rampion purposely knocked her head against the tree behind her in frustration. "You're not a deadweight, you idiot," she told him. "You're a knight of Camelot. None of us could do anything to save Ellen, and you risked your life to pull Lana out of the water, drowned or not. It could just as easily have been you getting shot by the archers, instead of Ellen."
"The only reason I'm a knight is because of my father," Gwaine insisted. "If I'd been anybody else, I never would have become anything. I'm a terrible knight with a girl's name who can't protect the people he cares about."
Rampion blinked. "What do you mean, a girl's name?" she asked curiously.
Gwaine grimaced. "Now I've done it," he muttered. "My name. I was named after Guinevere. The Queen of Camelot."
Against her will, Rampion laughed. It was so unexpected and ridiculous, she couldn't help it. "I thought you were named after Sir Gawain!" she said.
The Camelot knight turned bright red. "I like for people to think that," he mumbled. "It makes me seem more manly."
Rampion smacked him in the shoulder with her hair. "A name's not going to make you seem less manly, you fool," she told him. "Besides, I'm sure Merlin had a perfectly good reason for naming you after Guinevere. She must have been terribly brave, or wonderful, or—"
"Or my father was secretly in love with her and she died," Gwaine said.
Rampion stared at him. "Oh," she said.
Silence fell over them as Rampion digested that piece of information. Perhaps a little too much information, she thought wryly. She'd had no idea, and it was apparent that it wasn't something Gwaine liked to discuss. Why he'd even told her was beyond her. Lana shifted, and both of them looked at her, silently hoping she would wake up so they could find Eve and Emrys. But after stirring, Lana drifted back to sleep, and Rampion gave a well-concealed sigh. She regretted taking Emrys's side when he and Eve had been arguing. Then she could have gone with him instead.
A frail-sounding voice broke the silence. "Begging pardon," it said. Both turned and saw the woman standing there. Grey streaked through her ragged brown hair, and her tan face had wrinkles before its time. Watery grey eyes crinkled in a smile when she saw them. "Are you travelers? I haven't seen you around Cornwall before."
"Is that where we are?" Gwaine muttered to Rampion.
She ignored him and motioned for him to remain silent. "We're travelers, just passing through," she said. "Is there something you'd like?" Traditionally, in fairy tales, random people in the forest weren't good. She wanted to get rid of the woman as quickly as possible.
The woman looked at her feet. "I ... well, I do so hate to ask this of strangers, but I'm simply incapable of doing anything about it," she began.
"Anything about—what?" Gwaine said, seeing the woman stop.
She seemed to come to a decision. "My name is Iona. I'm looking for my son, Jack. He has a terrible habit of getting into trouble, and I'm afraid that he's gone to take on two giants by himself."
"Jack the giant killer?" Rampion said.
Iona nodded. "Yes, but ... I'm afraid they might be expecting him, and if I were to lose my only child, the only one I have left ..."
Rampion and Gwaine exchanged looks before she said, "Alright. But we can't leave our friend Lana alone, and she's—well, she's ill. Could you look after her for us? I'm Rampion, by the way, and this is Gwaine."
Iona smiled. "I'd be glad to," she agreed. "I'll treat her as my own daughter. I'll wait for you here, if that's alright."
"Works for me," Rampion said. "Come on, Gwaine. I guess you get your wish. Any idea where the beanstalk is, Iona?"
"North. If you just keep walking north from here, you'll find it," Iona told her.
"Thank you. We'll be back with your son before you know it," Rampion said, and she and Gwaine walked off.
A few minutes after they'd left Iona behind, Gwaine said tentatively, "Should we really have left Iona with Lana?"
"Yes. I trust her. Nobody can fake the look on her face, that look of pure love fighting with exasperation," Rampion said. "It's the normal look a parent has for a child who's not behaving properly. I got it a lot as a child."
"I can't say I've ever received such a look," Gwaine answered.
Rampion grinned. "Then you obviously weren't as big a troublemaker as I was," she retorted. She stopped abruptly, and Gwaine ran into her back.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I think we found it," she said, pointing. Gwaine craned his neck back to look at the massive beanstalk growing high into the sky.
"Would now be a good time to mention that I've got no stomach for heights?" Gwaine questioned.
Rampion eyed him in an annoyed fashion. "I assume you're not joking," she said with a sigh. "Alright, here's how we're going to do this. I'm going to wrap you up in most of my hair and use the rest to secure myself to the beanstalk, continuing to slide it up as we climb for support. All you have to do is try and make sure you're not a deadweight."
"Can you cover my eyes as well?" Gwaine asked a little peevishly.
The glare she sent him told him the answer without any need for words, and he shrugged. "It was worth a try," he said.
. . . . . . . . . .
Eve and Jack had made it to the castle treasury before seeing the second giant in the castle. Eve reflected on how much she really hated magic as she huddled beneath a massive pile of gold coins. Jack held on to her hand, beside her in the pile. Any movement would have sent the pile rolling, and she closed her eyes, praying as she heard the giant Jack had named as Blunderbore come into the treasury. The giant's sniff of the air was loud enough for her to hear even buried in the coins as she was. It took all her strength not to shudder. How could he not smell them, even hidden as they were?
"Blunderbore!" The roar made the gold coins shiver, and some of them slid from the vibrations of the sound. "Where are you?"
"I smell Englishman!" Blunderbore yelled back.
"It's our dinner in the pantry!" came the answer. "Come out of there, brother!"
Blunderbore thudded off, but Jack held Eve in place for a few more minutes before allowing her to dig herself out of the coins. They shook the coins from their clothes, and Eve grimaced. "I've never liked the feeling of money," she muttered.
"Really? I quite like it," Jack answered. He brushed several pieces from his curls of hair. "Now, where's that goose ...?"
Eve picked up a harp and screamed when it yelled in a female voice, "Put me down, you great ugly oaf!"
Obeying the harp's orders, Eve dropped it into the pile of gold and scrambled behind Jack. Instruments simply weren't intended to talk. "That's not very nice, Harp," Jack chided, picking it up again. "You startled the lady. Apologize to her, please."
The golden harp had the distinctive and attractive face of a woman. Her curls of hair streamed over the top of the harp, giving her an almost heavenly appearance. Her voice, on the other hand? Not so much. "Jack, you little troll, what are you doing back here? I warned you, didn't I?! Master! MASTER!"
Quickly, Eve clapped a hand over the harp's mouth, effectively gagging the piercing shouts. "What in the world?" she demanded, grimacing when the harp bit her finger. Apparently, harps had sharp teeth.
"Oh, that's just Harp," Jack said dismissively. "Annoying little thing, but we may as well take her with us. First of all, she may be able to take us to your friend Emrys and his father, and second of all, I'm sure somebody would be willing to pay something for her at the market. Aha, here's the goose!" He snatched a white-feathered goose off the floor, and it started honking indignantly. Jack reached into the pocket of his breeches and produced a ribbon that he tied expertly around the goose's beak, silencing it. "Mum'll be happy to see this beasty."
The harp was making muffled sounds from beneath Eve's hand, and after once again clamping her teeth down on her finger, fell silent. Eve lifted the harp up. "If you take us to where the giants are keeping our friends, I'll let you speak," she told the harp. "But if you try and cry out for help, I'll gag you. Alright?"
The harp nodded—as much as an instrument could nod, at least—and Eve removed her hand. To her surprise, the harp didn't cry out for help. She simply sent Eve a glare before saying, "Jack, I'll have you cooked like a Christmas goose for this!"
The goose in Jack's arms gave an irritated honk, silenced by the ribbon around her beak. "That's not very nice," Jack said. "Take us to the dungeons."
"The pantry, they call it," the harp said. She started giving Eve rapid-fire instructions and stopped only when she received a glare from both of them. "Oh, alright. You leave the treasury and take a left ..."
Following the irritable harp's instructions, Eve and Jack found the stairs to the dungeons and descended them. That in itself was an adventure, considering that the stairs were made for giants. Getting up them would be exciting, but Eve forced herself to consider that later. They could worry about it when they had Merlin and Emrys safely out of their cells.
Moisture dripped down the walls, creating a monotone pitter-pattering sound akin to rain. Puddles splashed as Eve and Jack picked their way over the uneven, dipping floor, and even the harp was silent as they went. Eve glanced at Jack, barely able to see him in the darkness. "Perhaps I ought to call for him," she suggested.
Jack shrugged. "Suit yourself. I've got a sword ready to taste giant blood, anyway."
That wasn't very reassuring to Eve, but she pushed aside her doubts and called, "Emrys!"
"Eve! Here!" The answer was instantaneous. Jack and Eve made their way over to the sound of Emrys's voice, and his pale face looked out from behind the bars of one of the numerous cells. "Oh, praise the Lord! All I kept hearing about were the recipes of what we were going to get cooked into. Quick, let me out!"
Eve glanced at Jack. The giant killer shoved the goose into her arms. "Here. I'll take care of it," he assured her before examining the bars.
"Is Merlin with you?" Eve asked, moving closer to him.
"No ... it's this fellow. Morph, introduce yourself!" Emrys said in an aside to his cellmate.
Another face joined Emrys's at the bars. Cold, clear-blue eyes looked out, expressionless. "Bonjour," he said, though he lacked a French accent. "I'm Morph. And you are ...?"
"Eve," she answered. "And that's Jack. How did you end up in there?"
"Long story," was Morph's vague response. "But I do want to get out of here."
Eve was fighting down disappointment that Merlin wasn't the prisoner they'd ended up rescuing. Secretly, she had been hoping to find him so she and Emrys could pass off the role of leadership to him once again. It seemed that her wish was going to go unfulfilled, at least for the time being. Still, she couldn't just leave Morph in the dungeon to be cooked just because of her own disappointment. "Jack, any luck?" she asked.
"Just a moment," Jack responded. After a few seconds, he said, "Aha, I've got it. Good thing giants aren't creative, otherwise, it would've been difficult to get them out. This is the cell I was put in during my first stay here. Just let me ... aye, there we go."
The bars near where Jack was fell open, leaving a hole big enough for both Morph and Emrys to crawl through. Emrys came through first, and Eve pulled him out when his robes got caught on the rough edges of the hewn bars. Morph was more difficult. As he came through, Eve saw the feathered wings on his back, too large to fit through the hole. Morph grunted and went back into the cell, pursing his lips. "Couldn't you have made the hole bigger?" he challenged Jack.
"I only had to fit myself, mate," Jack answered. "Did you eat too many birds and start to become one yourself?"
"I'm not even going to deign that with a response," Morph muttered. His massive wings curled around his body, and after raising his hands over his head, he crawled through in what looked like an extremely uncomfortable manner. Once outside of the cell, his wings unfurled and flapped once, dispelling water and little stones from the crumbling floor. "There," he said with satisfaction.
Emrys cleared his throat. "I'm ... I'm going to pretend that wasn't impressive," he muttered. The goose in Eve's arms pecked his elbow, and he looked at it. "Blasted bird."
Jack reclaimed his goose and handed the harp to Eve. "Alright, let's go," he said.
"MASTER! INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS IN THE PANTRY!"
Eve shrieked and dropped the harp—she'd forgotten it spoke after holding the wordless goose. It slammed against the ground and Jack drew his sword, cutting it cleanly in two. The damage had been done, though. The thudding sounds came, and Eve, Emrys, Morph, and Jack turned as the two giants Cormoran and Blunderbore stopped in front of them. Their way out of the dungeons was blocked.
Morph was the first to speak. "I think," he said, "I would've been better off staying in my cell."
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