Merlin's Nightmare (The Merlin Spiral) by Robert Treskillard

fumbled for his sword, but he had foolishly left it on his horse.
    The hooded figures rolled down an embankment, hands on each other’s throat. When their momentum finally slowed, the one on top pulled a short blade from his belt and jabbed it at the other, who knocked the blow wide with his forearm and grabbed the other’s wrist. They struggled until the man on the bottom pulled his own blade out and jabbed it into the gut of the other.
    The man on top screamed, dropped his blade into the leaves, and fell over, panting and clutching at his wound.
    Culann and Dwin had awoken by now, and they joined Artorius in a run for their horses and their sheathed blades.
    The second man slipped out and stood, keeping his own blade ready while picking up the other.
    The man who had been knifed let out a short wail, and then fell silent.
    “Who are you?” Artorius yelled, rushing back with his sword ready.
    The man threw his hood off and pulled his black mask down. “I found you . . .”
    Artorius blinked. “Tas. You . . . saved my life.”
    Merlin gave the stranger’s blade a curious look, tucked it into his belt, and then embraced Artorius. “I’m glad I made it in time . . .”
    Artorius felt strange to be taller than his father, but it was good, and natural, somehow. And he still respected how strong his father was, as well as his patience, his love, and his ready smile and encouragement.
    Merlin patted Artorius on the back. “I didn’t even know it was your camp. Peredur had the horses while I investigated, and when I saw it was you, and this man attacking . . .”
    “Who is he?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Peredur rushed into the glade, his own blade drawn, and stood by Merlin’s side.
    “Are you all right?”
    Before Artorius could answer, Culann called out, “You’d better take a look at this.” He was peering at the dead man.
    They gathered around as Culann pulled off the man’s tartan-fringed black hood.
    Artorius had to close his eyes for a moment and then look again to make sure what he saw was real. The man’s chin looked normal, if you ignored the strangely sharp teeth and lips covered in dried blood. But his nose . . . it was split, almost like a dog’s, with large nostrils, and hair — fur — growing down its length. The man’s eyes were unnatural as well — large, with barely any white to be seen, and the dead, yellow irises almost glowed in the moonlight. Pulling the hood back farther revealed his ears, sticking out from his head in points, with hair all over them.
    Dwin shook his head. “He’s a freak!”
    “Half dog,” Culann whispered.
    Merlin kicked the corpse over, hiding the grotesque face. “You mean half wolf.”
    Artorius had never heard his father’s voice like that before. It was thick with fear, the words barely escaping his teeth.
    Peredur retrieved their two horses, and then joined the others at the freshly kindled fire.
    Only then did it occur to Artorius what was strange about his father’s appearance just now. “So where’s Ector and the rest of the warriors? I’m surprised you two are alone.”
    After glancing at Peredur, Merlin cleared his throat. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about . . . you’re going the wrong way. Ector’s headed north to join King Urien against the Picti. And so we’ve come — ”
    “Wait,” Artorius said, confused. “The parchment said — ”
    “Forget the parchment. The envoy who posted that was lucky to escape Uncle’s wrath.”
    “But the Saxenow — ?”
    Merlin held up a hand, his voice rising. “Arthur, listen!”
    Arthur? Had his father just called him Arthur? Just like the woman with black hair in his dream. Artorius opened his mouth to speak, but Merlin cut him off.
    “Listen, all of you.” Merlin looked at each of them in turn. When he came to Artorius, there was an expression of gravity in his gaze that Artorius had rarely seen — only when he was in trouble.
    “What I have to tell you has long been kept hidden.