In the weeks since the army's victorious return from their confrontation with Caerleon, Gaius had kept his ward updated on the progress of the treaty talks and Arthur's secret mission. Merlin guided his horse through the forest, carefully staying just out of sight of the party of armed knights Arthur led. Fortunately, the large mounted group made enough noise to conceal any sound of the lone rider following them.
When he saw them make their way into the Valley of the Fallen Kings, Merlin cursed silently to himself. Nothing good ever happened in the Valley of the Fallen Kings and no one in their right mind would go in there, but of course Arthur's route was secret and he would never let mere superstition stop him from taking any path he chose.
As the king's party entered a valley, Merlin made his way along the top of the slight rise of ground where he remained hidden from the knights' view. Because of his vantage point he could see what the men below him could not: an armed and mounted group of mercenaries lying in wait.
Abandoning any hope of remaining concealed from both knights and mercenaries, Merlin yelled, "Look out!"
At the warning, several knights looked around and the mercenaries, having lost the element of surprise, charged. Flinging their capes aside, the knights drew their weapons and fearlessly engaged the enemies coming at them from three sides.
Seeing mercenaries swarming at them from both sides of the small valley as well as several mounted riders charging them from the path ahead, Arthur realized the warning shout was the only thing that had saved them all from being slaughtered. If they had ridden further into the ambush, they would have been surrounded and no amount of fighting skill would have gotten them out alive.
In the brief instant before he flung off his cape and drew his weapon, Arthur looked back to find who had sounded the alarm. The sight of Merlin on the ridge above and behind them momentarily shocked Arthur. As he watched, two mercenaries closed in on the unarmed man, but a large branch dropped from a tree above their heads knocking both assailants to the ground while their horses bolted. Arthur had time to think that was a lucky accident and immediately correct himself – luck had nothing to do with it – before he turned his attention to the multiple attackers coming at him.
In the battle, Arthur found himself pulled from his horse. He freed himself from the man's grasp and raised his sword against the mercenary's axe. From the corner of his eye, the king had already ascertained his men were holding their own against the superior numbers and the knights were retreating in the only direction not swarming with enemies. Arthur struck his opponent across the stomach and spun to face the next mercenary at the same time as he heard hoofbeats behind him. He felled the man in front of him but was unable to raise his sword again in time to defend himself against the mounted mercenary charging at him.
Arthur spun and then stared in surprise when he saw the man thrown from his horse as though flung back by an invisible hand. The king snapped his head around in time to see Merlin a short distance away with his hand outstretched. In the same instant, another mounted mercenary swinging a mace rode up behind Merlin where he stood in the road. Merlin turned but had no time to react before the mace smashed into his chest. Hand on the wound, Merlin was twisted back around by the force of the blow, then collapsed face first to the ground. Instinctively, Arthur fought off the closest assailants before he raced to Merlin's still form and dragged him to safety.
Arthur saw Merlin's eyelids flicker as the king half dragged and half carried him through a dry creek bed to a concealed spot at the base of a tree. Arthur could hear several mercenaries pass through the woods above their heads.
Merlin's eyes opened wider when he saw who held him upright. "They need to work through their anger," he whispered weakly.
Arthur looked at him. "They just did," he said. "On you."
Merlin managed a slight smile at that.
The mercenaries above them paused to peer down into the stream bed. With a sinking heart, Arthur saw his footprints in the soft dirt of the creek bed and hoped the mercenaries did not notice them. A slight breeze blew dried leaves over the prints, then the sound of a snapping branch in the forest distracted the mercenaries and they turned to follow the noise.
Arthur looked at his companion. "You've done this before."
A wince of pain crossed Merlin's face. "Thank you for saving my life." Even those few words seemed to take the breath from him.
"You'd have done the same for me," Arthur responded without thinking. "Did the same," he amended. Silently he regarded the young man beside him, thinking back over recent events as well as many other happenings since the boy had first come to Camelot. "All these years, Merlin, you never once sought any credit."
"That's not why I do it."
The sound of men approaching on foot turned Arthur's attention to their surroundings. The bank was too steep to climb carrying a wounded man, nor could they outrun whoever was coming toward them. A shout alerted Arthur that they had been spotted.
He made certain Merlin was safely propped against the dry bank before the king drew his sword and faced the five armed men racing toward him. A tree root lifted itself from the ground and tripped one of the men. As he fell, his hatchet flew from his grasp and buried itself in the back of one of his companions. Without missing a beat, Arthur dispatched the front runner, withdrawing his sword from the man and facing the next in the span of a heartbeat. A swirl of dirt and dried leaves temporarily blinded the fifth man and Arthur made short work of his current opponent before impaling the man who was trying to blink debris from his vision. A blow to the head of the mercenary who had tripped ensured they were all wounded or dead and unlikely to give chase.
Satisfied, Arthur turned back to see Merlin's closed eyes in an ashen face. It must have taken what little strength his friend had left to assist in the fight, and Arthur knew they must find somewhere to hide so Merlin could rest.
When dark began to descend, Arthur was glad to locate a hidden spot in the lee of a fallen tree trunk. He did not think Merlin would have been able to go much farther; the young man's eyes were squeezed shut, lines of pain radiated from around his clenched jaw in the deathly pale face, and his breathing was laboured. At first he had been able to walk a little with his arm around Arthur's neck, but more and more of the injured man's weight had come to rest on the king as they made their way through the heavily wooded terrain until he was all but carrying Merlin.
Gratefully, Arthur unwound the arm from around his shoulders and helped Merlin to sit with his back against the fallen tree trunk. Gently Arthur peeled back the bloody shirt to take a close look at where the mace had smashed into Merlin's chest. Even in the fading light what he saw did not look good, but he schooled his features as best he could.
"I've seen worse," Arthur said. "Definitely seen worse."
"On a dead man?" Merlin questioned with an attempt at a grin which was belied by a grimace of pain.
"You're not going to die, Merlin, don't be such a coward," Arthur said. He reconsidered his last words. Looking directly into the pain-filled blue eyes, Arthur contradicted himself. "I know you're not a coward. You are extremely brave, incredibly loyal to be honest, and I'm sorry for how I treated you."
Merlin stared at his friend. "The wound is that bad, huh?"
Knowing Merlin would not be fooled by false reassurances, Arthur decided they had best try to heal the injury by any possible means. "Can you," Arthur hesitated over the unfamiliar request, "can you use magic to heal it?"
Surprise mingled with gratitude in Merlin's eyes. Holding the king's gaze he answered, "I'm not that good with healing spells and even if I were I don't think I have the strength."
Arthur nodded in understanding. Then he gathered his courage and took the opportunity of frank conversation to ask the question that had been bothering him for weeks. "Why did you never tell me?"
"I wanted to, but …" Merlin began.
Arthur waited but Merlin said nothing more. "But what?"
"You'd have told your father and he would have chopped my head off." His lopsided smile made it clear he did not hold that against Arthur.
"I'm not sure what I would have done," Arthur admitted aloud as well as to himself.
"Then you would have been deceiving your father and your king and I didn't want to put you in that position."
Arthur looked at him. "That's what worried you?"
Looking straight at Arthur, Merlin said, "Some men are born to plough fields, others live to be great physicians, some to be great kings." Merlin smiled weakly. "Me, I was born to serve you Arthur, and I'm proud of that, and I wouldn't change a thing." The effort of speaking had sapped Merlin's remaining strength and he weakly leaned his head back against the trunk, allowing his eyes to close.
Humbled by the simple declaration, Arthur said sincerely, "I don't want you to change." He waited until the eyes opened and focused on him. "I want you to always be you."
Merlin's laboured breathing indicated the effort to say anything in response was beyond him.
"Just rest," Arthur said softly.
Once it was fully dark, Arthur relaxed slightly. The mercenaries would be unlikely to search through the forest without being able to see, so he and Merlin would have several hours' respite before making their run for safety. Arthur was certain his knights would have gathered beyond the Valley of the Fallen Kings and would be looking for him come daybreak.
Merlin groaned.
Arthur tried to think of something that would distract his friend from the pain. "What really happened that night we rode out to face the Great Dragon?"
Panic flashed in Merlin's eyes before a resolute expression settled on his face. "I told Kilgharrah to leave and if he ever attacked Camelot again I would kill him."
"Why didn't you do that sooner?" Arthur asked and then berated himself for sounding as though he had accused Merlin of wrongdoing.
"I only inherited the dragonlord power when my father died," Merlin said.
"Power to command dragons?" Arthur could not help asking, incredulous that his friend wielded such a gift even though Arthur had seen it himself. Puzzled and amazed, he regarded Merlin. "Why were you still behaving like a servant?"
A slight smile crossed Merlin's face. "It's my destiny," he said. "As it has been since the day we met."
Arthur recalled the peasant boy challenging him in Camelot's street. "I tried to take your head off with a mace."
"And I stopped you," Merlin said. "Using magic."
Understanding dawned. "You cheated."
"Yeah." Merlin grinned at the incredulous look Arthur gave him before his eyes squeezed shut and he put a hand on his chest.
Arthur's mind went back to the expedition to find Balinor. "I'm sorry you lost your father."
"I'm sorry you lost yours." Merlin's hand weakly brushed his arm. "Really I am. I didn't kill Uther." As if the force of his words had used up his strength, Merlin's hand fell back to his side.
Arthur realized his grief at his father's death had obscured his judgement and he had leapt to conclusions that were not true. "I know." Arthur looked at the ground. "My father was a great king, but I don't have his wisdom or his conviction. I've tried to follow his example but he was wrong to value an accident of birth above a man's ability to determine who should be a knight, he was wrong about Guinevere, and he was wrong about those who practice magic." Arthur raised his eyes to look directly at Merlin. "Not all sorcerers are evil or dangerous or enemies. At least one is even a friend."
Relief flooded Merlin's face as he relaxed back against the rough bark and exhaustion claimed him.
Arthur's eyes snapped open and he realized he had been dozing. First light had already come. For a moment he remained still, listening for any sound that would indicate armed men nearby. A faint metallic ring could be heard. "I'd like to say we can stay here all day but another ten minutes and we'll be mercenary mincemeat."
"Leave me," Merlin protested, not making any attempt to get to his feet.
Hastily, Arthur lifted Merlin's limp form across his shoulders. "Now is not the time for jokes," Arthur said, balancing the dead weight and deciding the best possible route to avoid detection.
"Please leave me," Merlin gasped.
"Sure, whatever you say." Shouldering the injured man, Arthur moved as quickly as possible in the direction they needed to go.
They were almost to safety. If Arthur had more time, he would make his way out of the Valley by a more circuitous route but he was certain Merlin had little time left before even Gaius's medical help would fail to save him. The quickest way out was through a steep gully which hid them from view but would trap them if mercenaries caught up with them between the high banks.
Half way through the narrow passageway, Arthur heard heavy footsteps approaching from ahead. He laid Merlin's limp form on the soft ground, ignoring the grunt of pain, and drew his sword to face whoever was coming at them.
A mercenary came in sight. With a battle cry, the man drew his sword and rushed at Arthur. Their swords clashed but Arthur had no time to fell his opponent before another armed mercenary came at him in the narrow confines of the gully. Arthur landed a punch to the first man and a kick to the second, grabbing the arm of one and running him through before withdrawing his sword to finish off the other. He caught his breath before the sound of a dozen armed men charging at him from behind warned him more mercenaries had followed them into the gully. Arthur took a deep breath and gripped his sword , resolved to go down fighting.
As he prepared to defend himself against the hoard coming at him, a shower of large stones crashed down between the oncoming enemies and Arthur, effectively blocking the gully and giving him a clear path to escape but leaving Merlin trapped with the mercenaries.
"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, holding out a hand as though he could pull his friend through the barrier of rocks by force of will.
His last glimpse of Merlin was a limp, unconsciousness form that did not protest when rough hands yanked him up and dragged him away.
In desperation, Arthur attempted to climb the pile of rocks but his foothold slid away beneath his boot and the stone he had grabbed as a handhold pulled loose to rain other stones down on his head. Twice more he tried to scramble over the unsteady pile but when a large stone was knocked loose on his third attempt and narrowly missed crushing his arm, the king gave up his efforts.
Unable to rescue his friend, Arthur walked out of the gully and exited the Valley of the Fallen Kings. He took cover behind a tree when he heard several armed men ahead of him, waiting until he could see the four knights who had surrounded the tree with their swords drawn. Arthur parried Leon's blow with his own weapon at the same time that Leon, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan realized they had cornered their own king.
"Nice to see you, too," Arthur greeted them sarcastically. "We need to gather a force strong enough to wipe out these mercenaries and find Merlin."
"Merlin?" Leon exchanged a puzzled glance with the other knights.
"He's the one who warned us of the ambush and now he's injured. We have to find him," Arthur repeated.
"But, Sire," Elyan began.
"He saved my life – all of our lives – again," Arthur said, "and we are going to rescue him."