Cold Iron part 3
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Cold Iron - part 3
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: none
Character/s: Balinor
Warning: none
Summary: Balinor was a fool trusting that all would be right in the end. For Uther was a tyrant and the prince a naïve boy, and when Balinor saved Camelot, death was to be his reward.
Word Count: 1142
Camelot_drabble Prompt: 508 imprison and 509 in public
Author's Notes: unbetaed, AU for The Last Dragonlord, also I’ve always been suspicious of how Gaius knew about the crystals around Dagr and Ebor’s necks in the Gwaine episode. He seemed to know a lot about them.
Also I am breaking this up into 2 parts as it's way too long.
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
----------------------
It was long past dark when Balinor heard the clink of metal against stone. Looking up, he could see movement, a shadow shoving something into his cell window, then whoever it was hurried on. As he squinted up, a cloak or something heavy hung against the rock, caught against the rough face of the cell.
Looking around, the guards a distant murmur, he jerked the fabric down, tearing it a little on one edge, then stepping back as he caught the rest of it. Shaking it out-it looked like something Gaius might wear, a long soft robe-, he could feel heaviness inside one pocket.
When he reached in, there was a crinkle of parchment, and something else. Looking again to see if that someone was still hovering just outside his cell window, there was nothing but flickering light and a faint star high above. And down the dungeon’s corridor, the guards were having a lively dice game by the sounds of it.
There was indeed a note. Written in Ogham and there was only one man in all of Camelot that could have done that.
Gaius.
He thanked the gods that Gaius taught him the language. Growing up, he had pestered the older man about it, yearning to learn new languages and see far-off places when he was young and stupid and incredibly naïve about the future. Now so few people even knew what Ogham was that it would be mere scratches to anyone else.
Holding onto the robe with one hand, Balinor read,
Crystal changes you into another’s form. Wear it and the robe. The keys set you free. Go. A horse waits outside the postern gate. Go to the place where a son’s gift was carved.
G
Shoving the note aside, he reached into the robe again and pulled out a crystal on a long chain and a small key, a key that would set him free if the note was to be believed.
He wasn’t going to question it. If nothing else, if he tried to escape and they killed him for it, at least it wasn’t the pyre.
Drawing the chain over his head, he could feel the crystal’s heaviness settle against his chest but more importantly, he turned the key in his hand and pushed it into the manacles’ lock. With a snick, the cold iron shackles fell to the floor and Balinor could feel magic filling him again.
Against his chest, the crystal was pulsing, whatever magic there pushing into him. Of warmth and light and the faint taste of hope. As his hand curled around the crystal, trying to look more closely at it, in the dim light, he could see his fingers aged, stained with potions and ink. He let the crystal go, instead reaching up to feel his face. There was no beard. Instead, his cheeks were soft with age, wrinkles where there had been none, and his hair shorter. A change indeed.
His heart beating fast, he knew he might not have another chance.
Taking his cloak off, he pushed straw into it, forming a sloppy but effective effigy of himself sleeping on the stone floor. Then, pulling the robe down around him, he looked for a way to open the cell door.
The note had mentioned keys, but the robe held nothing more. But as he looked around, he saw a larger key near the cell window. It must have been what he’d heard before, iron clinking against the stone.
Listening for movement, he slowly unlocked the cell, slipped out, then locked it again, pocketing the key. It would look as if Balinor were still in the cell, sleeping.
But how to get past the guards? He could go deeper into the dungeons, slipping into Kilgharrah’s old prison but there was no way out, not without the ability to fly. Instead, he would have to try the stairs up and into the courtyard.
As he creeped closer to the stairs, he could clearly see two guards, intent on their dice game. If Balinor’s power had been stronger, he could have knocked their heads together or else sent the dice into the darkness beyond. But years had proved that his gifts were almost gone.
He had to try, though.
Reaching out, he sent a flicker of magic toward the far edge of the dungeons and the second line of cells beyond. It took three tries but at long last, an unlit torch flared into brilliance, startling the guards.
It would seem that Uther’s minions were not too bright. Instead of one remaining behind to watch the other cells, they both rushed down, swords in hand, to stare at the torch and argue what to do next.
Balinor rushed up the stairs, but he could hear the guards coming back. So instead of running for his life, he turned, waiting at the midpoint, and looked as if he were coming down the stairs instead.
The younger guard shouted up, hurrying toward him, “Gaius, is everything all right? Is it Bronwyn? Is our child coming? Should I-?”
Putting up one hand, his head spinning with the idea that the man thought he was Gaius, knowing that here was the chance he needed to escape, Balinor lowered his voice as he tried to approximate Gaius’s own, he said, “Fear not. Bronwyn is well. I am here to see the prisoner.”
The other guard shook his head. “King says no one is to see him. Sorcerer scum.”
Anger flared inside Balinor’s chest as he said, “And yet he saved us all.” He would have said more but he was not there to argue but to escape. Even as he stood there, he was listening for any hint of more guards arriving or for his route to freedom cut off.
Scowling, Bronwyn’s husband shoved at the second guard. “See, Meldron, I told you not everyone believes that. He chased the dragon away. Ellis lost his cottage, Rhys his arm and Winfred dead from that monster but it could have been far worse if that man hadn’t come when he did.”
“Should have come sooner then.” Meldron shrugged. “Sorcery is illegal. If the king wants him dead, who are we to object?”
Every moment Balinor remained there was a second away from discovery. Glancing up the stairs, pretending to hear something, Balinor said, “I- ah, the king is calling for me. Perhaps another time. But fear not, I will check on Bronwyn for you if you like.”
Bronwyn’s husband smiled up at him. “Thanks. Tell her I’ll be home at first light.”
Balinor nodded, then turning, began to pull himself up the stairs, as he thought Gaius would do.
The guards turned back to their dice playing, the two of them arguing about something or other, paying no attention to Balinor.
He had made his escape.