I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I did not intend for this update to take this long. I'm sorry, again. I could give a dozen excuses, half of which are legit and the other half aren't, but you don't really care about that, do you? I will; however, say that I had to do some rewriting and a good portion of this chapter was quite difficult for me to write. Anyway, I'm so sorry for how long it's been, but unfortunately the next chapter will be awhile as well. I'm going on a trip in a few days and I'll be gone for nearly two weeks without internet and almost no free time on my hands whatsoever. And once I get back it'll probably take at least another week to write the chapter, so we're looking at three weeks before the next update. I'm sorry. Maybe it won't be that long, but I wouldn't count on it. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter, 'cause I'm actually quite pleased with it.
Gwaine leaned his head back against the hard trunk of a tree and closed his eyes, inwardly sighing. He was starting to wish that he had never come along on this quest. Of course, it was wonderful traveling with Merlin and seeing him again, but after all that had happened since he had intruded on this mission he wasn't sure if it was worth it. For some stupid reason he felt like if he had never been there for any of the fights with monsters or other problems that they had had so far then maybe it wouldn't have happened. It was some ridiculous belief that if he wasn't there to witness it then it didn't exist.
Naturally, he knew that the idea that his absence would have changed things for the better was illogical and completely unfounded. Still, it didn't stop him from feeling angry at his powerlessness. Time and time again during this quest he had watched Merlin save them and get hurt badly for it, and yet not once had he done anything for idiotic servant. His inability to do anything was angering and frustrating him and one look at Arthur was more than enough to tell him that he wasn't the only one who felt that way.
Both of them were itching to do something, anything useful to help Merlin, especially while Mercy had been taking care of him. But despite all their offers of help she had refused, saying that the cleaning and bandaging process was delicate and really only a one person job and standing by while being unable to help had only increased their frustration.
But it was when they had learned of the permanent condition of his arm that Gwaine had felt truly and utterly powerless, even more so than he had while paralyzed by the beast. What had happened to Merlin made him want to be violently ill. It should never have come to this, he knew, but looking back on it he wasn't really sure how it could have been avoided. Perhaps only if they had never come to the town, but then others would have died and Gwaine knew Merlin well enough to guess that he'd rather be permanently paralyzed over his whole body than for anyone else to have died.
But Gwaine had decided to ignore these feelings because he knew they were anything but useful at the moment. There would be plenty of time to feel guilty later. And so he was choosing not to think about what should or should not have happened or what he could've done. That wouldn't help Merlin now, and Gwaine was seriously worried about him. He looked exhausted and half-dead. Gwaine could only thank whatever good luck he had left that they had horses because it was obvious that the boy wouldn't have been able to walk, not that that would have stopped him from trying.
But the boy wasn't just suffering from pain. Everything that Merlin's body had been through lately seemed to be weighing so heavily on it that Gwaine was afraid that it simply didn't have much energy left. Merlin was beyond tired…he was nearly without life.
When they had finally stopped for the night Merlin, with the help of a silent Arthur, had slowly dismounted the horse with far more pained grimaces than Gwaine was okay with and had practically collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself. Arthur had built the fire while Gwaine had prepared the food. That night Merlin had hardly moved, had barely eaten anything and had said perhaps only a handful of words. It was becoming excruciatingly obvious that Merlin was losing awareness of everything in the haze of pain and sickness and…death that was overcoming him. Neither Gwaine nor Arthur had gotten much sleep at all that night, especially when Merlin began to whimper in thinly concealed agony as he slept fitfully.
Gwaine had dealt with his own anger and self-hatred and guilt, but it had been obvious that Arthur hadn't. Gwaine still remembered his conversation with Arthur.
Arthur had hardly moved for hours so Gwaine was surprised when the future king got up and started walking away. As he passed him Gwaine grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?" he asked quietly, trying not to disturb Merlin's much needed sleep.
Without looking at him Arthur replied, "We need more firewood." He tried to pull his arm free but Gwaine wouldn't let him.
"We really should get going soon. Getting wood now would be pointless."
But Arthur stubbornly jerked his arm away and the drunk saw a flicker of rage in his eyes. The prince began to stalk off but Gwaine once again pulled him up short, but this time by his words. "I never figured you for the kind of royal to enjoy doing meaningless work, especially while on a quest."
The prince turned around to glare at him, but instantly Gwaine could tell that the anger really wasn't directed at him, but more at the situation. "Anything is better than just standing here and doing nothing while Merlin—" Arthur cut himself off and his gazed wandered to the motionless form near the dying fire. "If I stay still any longer I'll go insane," he declared. Gwaine could sympathize; he felt the same way.
Suddenly Arthur gave a grim chuckle and Gwaine wondered if maybe he had already turned nuts. "Besides, I think we might need the firewood anyway. Maybe we should stay here for a while." The prince glanced around him pointedly to indicate what 'here' meant.
Gwaine sighed and took a step towards Arthur. He knew exactly what was going through the prince's head; he could read the same conflicting emotions that he himself was battling with. "Arthur," he said slowly and with a lowered voice so as to not disturb Merlin's fitful slumber, "we can't afford to stay here; we don't have time. You told me yourself that Camelot only has a few days left. Every second that we waste is another second closer to Camelot's demise."
Arthur put his hand to his head and looked away. Even in the dim early-morning light Gwaine could see the frustration and guilt and despair bubbling beneath the surface. "Merlin might not have much time left, either," he said through gritted teeth. Gwaine got the feeling that the prince wanted to punch him.
"You're right; he might not," Gwaine answered simply, trying to keep the both of them calm, "but face it. We're not physicians. For all we know if we stayed here Merlin could die anyway. Or he might not die at all. We don't know Arthur." Gwaine glanced back at Merlin and mentally kicked himself for what he was going to say next. "But we can't just stay here; we have to keep moving. Merlin is just going to have to hold on because right now Camelot is in danger. Merlin is one person who may or may not be dying, but there are thousands of people in that kingdom. People you've sworn to protect. Merlin is just going to have to deal with the pain."
For a split second Arthur's face was completely blank and then he lunged forward and punched him hard, right in the face.
Gwaine's whole head whipped to the side and he felt pain explode along his jaw, but oddly enough it didn't make him angrier. If anything, it calmed him down.
Gwaine had known that Arthur needed to let his rage out and so he had offered himself up as a punching bag. Merlin was the only person he'd even consider doing that for. All those years of being too drunk to see straight had somehow given him the ability to bury his anger, but the prince wasn't as disciplined. Naturally, most of the time Gwaine didn't care about holding back his rage, but in this case he had known it wouldn't help Merlin, only hinder. So he had riled Arthur up so that he could get him to focus on what mattered, which was to keep moving and pray to whoever would listen that Merlin would be all right.
"Feel better?" Gwaine asked as he rubbed the sore spot on his jaw and glanced back at Merlin to see if the brief altercation had roused him. It hadn't. "Well, you have to," he continued, "because that was your only freebee." He looked back at Merlin once more. "I know how you're feeling, Arthur," he said slowly, this time with nothing but sadness and pain in his voice. "I keep watching Merlin breathe in and out because I'm scared to death that he might stop." He turned his gaze on the prince. "I realize you're angry and you feel helpless, but we can't afford that right now. You're right; Merlin may be dying, but if he is there is nothing at all we can do for him. You specialize in killing and I specialize in getting drunk; the only healer here is him. But I know the last thing he would want is for Camelot to die because we hesitated for his sake. That would kill him.
"I get that you hate yourself right now. Believe me, I do, too. But you have to squash those feelings because, right now, the only chance Merlin may have is if we continue moving and hopefully find someone who can heal him. Who knows? You said that the device we're looking is magical and it grants wishes. Maybe we can use it to heal him. We owe him that much.
"So if you have to take your anger out on someone then use me, or a tree, or anything else, but don't let Merlin suffer because of it." Gwaine knew what Arthur was going through and he knew how hard it was for him to know that whatever he did might end up killing Merlin, but he had to make him understand that this was the only way. This was their best chance of saving Merlin, because it would be obvious to anyone who looked at Merlin that there was something big wrong with him. It wasn't just his arm. He looked pale and sickly and he was beginning to wheeze. If he didn't get help, a miracle, soon he would most likely die. And there was no help for him in the middle of the forest, far away from any town or village.
Arthur looked at the ground and then at the surrounding tress, but he refused to even glance in either Gwaine's or Merlin's directions. Eventually, though, he raised his eyes to meet Gwaine's and the drunk could see that some of the anger had been defused. "I'm going to get more firewood," Arthur stated almost without any emotion in his voice.
Gwaine sighed as Arthur began walking off. Obviously his plan to convince Arthur hadn't worked. But then, just as he was about to return to Merlin's side Arthur called out without looking back, "And then we'll leave."
Those four words brought a small glimmer of hope to flicker in Gwaine's chest. Merlin was shivering even as he lay by a warm fire and was covered in every blanket they had. Whatever was trying to claim his life was obviously succeeding. But now if they continued on he might have a chance. Truthfully, Gwaine didn't believe he was going to die; for all his frailty the boy was almost indestructible. Somehow he would make it through this…he had to.
Gwaine was still leaning against a tree, not having moved from the spot that Arthur had left him at nearly ten minutes ago. Desperately, Gwaine watched Merlin, hoping that he might glimpse some sign of improvement. At any rate, if he kept watching then nothing else could attack him and try to take his life.
Exhausted, the drunk rubbed his pained forehead as the headache that everything that had occurred in the last few days had caused increased. But as bad as the pounding in his head was he didn't doubt that the agony Merlin was currently going through was exponentially worse, judging by the wrinkle of pain in the manservant's forehead that was present even in sleep.
Gwaine was just about to get up and go to Merlin, when the lanky boy in question began to move. Shocked, Gwaine watched as slowly, very slowly, a groggy Merlin rolled over and sat up, still weighed down with a dozen blankets. Gwaine was surprised to see him awake and took a step forward only to catch a glimpse of Merlin's face, which was scrunched up in pain. Merlin's good arm went to his head, kneading it in an attempt to alleviate the obvious pressure and his injured arm twitched, trying to do the same thing. But as soon as the manservant's arm moved a small cry of pain escaped Merlin's lips and he doubled over.
Gwaine wanted to go to him and help him, but he knew there was nothing he could do and if he or Arthur were in Merlin's position and in that much pain neither of them would want useless comfort. They'd want a few minutes alone.
After a moment Merlin straightened up and after staring at his bandaged arm for a few seconds he slowly and carefully began to unwrap it. Gwaine's gasp at the horrific sight of Merlin's arm was only outshined and covered up by the boy's own.
Aside from there being huge, gaping teeth marks, which were already nauseating enough, the skin of Merlin's arm was bright red. But the scariest thing was the patches of green and red darker than blood that pulsated and glowed even as they throbbed, no doubt causing Merlin more pain.
All Gwaine had to do was take one look at the pulsating light coming from Merlin's injured arm and he knew that this was more than just any ordinary infection. It was a magical infection. And it was not something that could be cured by any ordinary medicine.
Merlin wrapped it up again and then, after taking a deep breath, tried to flex the fingers of his injured arm. This time Merlin cried out even louder and he pulled up his knees and wrapped his good arm around them.
Gwaine watched the boy bury his head in his arm, effectively curling himself into a tight ball. And Gwaine watched and witnessed, just as he had been doing far too often lately, as Merlin's thin frame began to shake and heave slightly as small sounds that even the brusque man recognized as sobs drifted towards him. Merlin was crying.
Despite the fact that he had only met Merlin a few months ago he already felt like he knew him. But through all the difficult and stressful situations that the two of them had been in together in that short amount of time Gwaine had never once seen Merlin cry or shed the tiniest tear. He knew Merlin probably felt deeper emotion than all the knights of Camelot put together, but Gwaine had somehow never imagine that Merlin would ever, could ever, cry. And seeing Merlin's small body tense in an effort to stop its shaking felt like a spear had gone through his heart. Even while in emotional agony Merlin was still trying to hold himself together.
Gwaine knew why Merlin was crying. Merlin had been through so much in the last couple of days. Creature after creature had attacked them and it had been solely upon Merlin's thin shoulders to save them all from the beasts. The manservant's world was crashing around him. His home and all the people he loved were in life-threatening danger and, currently, he had no way of knowing if they were even alright. For all they knew Camelot was already destroyed. He had just learned that a whole village of innocent people had been terrorized by a monster for weeks and that many had died and it had, once again, been up to Merlin to save them. They had no idea if they were even close to the magical device they sought or even if they could manage to somehow turn it off. And Merlin was in pain, a lot of pain and he had just learned that his arm would probably never fully heal or return to the way it was again. And worse yet the boy had seen the magical infection in his wound and he had most likely come to the same conclusion that Gwaine had. Merlin didn't have a lot of time left and if they didn't get a magical miracle soon then he would die, slowly and painfully.
Merlin's whole life was in an uproar and the boy had given everything he had for this quest and for the people he loved. There just wasn't anything left for him to give and now it seemed that he would die without ever seeing the people he cared for back home again.
The sobs of the man before Gwaine wasn't that of a prideful man in self-pity or even that of someone who was scared or sad. Those sobs and shakes were the sobs and shakes of someone completely broken, of someone who had given his all and now had nothing left for himself. Merlin was drowning in an abyss and he lacked the energy to even try to swim out.
More than anything Gwaine wanted to go to Merlin, to help him and comfort him, but he knew that he couldn't. It was obvious that Merlin didn't want anyone to see him crying. And even if Gwaine did try to comfort him it wouldn't work, there was nothing he could say or do to fix this problem, so any words he could offer up would be hollow and useless. So Gwaine stayed where he was, hidden amongst the trees, watching Merlin cry himself dry. And finally, after a few more minutes of the heart-wrenching, soul-splitting crying that hurt Gwaine more than any magical monster ever could, Merlin uncurled himself and straightened up and began to wipe his eyes. Merlin dried his tears and Gwaine glimpsed his face as the manservant's ever-present mask—though Gwaine hadn't been aware that it was there before today—slipped back into place. The drunk had never realized before now how skilled Merlin was at hiding his true emotions and feelings.
Suddenly Gwaine heard a rustling behind him and he swiftly, but silently spun around, his hand already going to his sword. But instead of some sort of enemy all he saw was Arthur with an armload of wood. But the prince wasn't even looking at Gwaine; he was staring at Merlin, whose face still prominently showed traces of tears. Arthur's face scrunched in pain for a brief moment and then suddenly it went completely blank. He turned his head to meet Gwaine's gaze and in a silent moment of exchange the secret noble told Arthur what he had missed.
Though Arthur's face was blank, his eyes weren't and Gwaine could see the pain in them increasing. They both knew that there was nothing they could do for Merlin except watch him suffer. So they did.
Arthur looked up at the sky. It was way past noon, but neither he nor Gwaine had had the heart to take the time to stop and eat. They were so low on time as it was so they weren't going to waste it for such trivial needs as lunch. Of course, just because the two men had no appetite they wouldn't deny Merlin food. They'd actually encourage it if Merlin were awake. Truthfully, the boy hadn't become lucid enough to form even a simple sentence for over five hours. He was getting worse, a lot worse.
After Arthur had come back and seen the trails left by tears on Merlin's face he had been even more silent than before. Really, he had nothing to say. He felt powerless, weak, useless to help the one person in his life who had never stopped believing in him and had never failed to be there for him when he most needed it. But there was nothing he could do other than try to make the horses trot faster.
Like Gwaine, Arthur had never seen Merlin cry before, which was why it had come not only as a big shock to him, but it had also felt like a physical blow. Seeing Merlin in so much pain that he was unable to keep himself from breaking down reminded Arthur far too much of another time, a time when he had been in agony and had still remained strong. Even during horrible torture Merlin refused to break, so seeing him do so now truly opened Arthur's eyes to how bad things were and how great a toll everything had taken on him.
Merlin was the one stable thing in Arthur's life. He could always count on his strength and sarcasm and perpetual optimism. But now that was all gone and it felt like a chair had been kicked out from under Arthur. But that wasn't even the worst bit.
Over the last seven or so hours since they had packed up their small camp and had continued on their journey Arthur had observed Merlin grow rapidly worse. Perhaps only fifteen minutes in the saddle was when Merlin started to droop and his eyes went glazy again. Soon he began to shiver heavily and wheeze horribly. And then, once they had stopped brief to check on him, they had noticed that he was burning up and his skin felt like fire. The boy would begin to open his eyes and say something every now and again, but his eyes would sparkle with the unhealthy tint of the fever and he would hack and cough as soon as he opened his mouth.
Randomly, as Merlin, who was practically laying on his horse, would arch his back and called out words that sounded like gibberish, but whenever Arthur heard them they sent a chill up his spine. Every other hour or so Merlin's skin would change from being burning hot to icy cold and back again. Arthur and Gwaine found themselves constantly laying as many blankets as they could on him, only to remove them a few minutes later as his temperature drastically changed.
Gwaine had explained to Arthur what he had seen in Merlin's wound—how it was infected with what looked like powerful and dark magic. Gwaine had said,
"The only hope Merlin has now is magic. I want you to know, Arthur, that if we get a chance to heal him we are going to take it. I don't care about your prejudices; whether it is someone or something we are going to use it to heal him. You're just going to have to put aside your hate because I'm not going to let Merlin die."
Arthur sucked in a breath and quietly responded, "For once I agree with you, Gwaine. I made a promise. Merlin will get better, whatever it takes."
Arthur was so far beyond caring about what he had been taught about magic his whole life at this point. Just watching Merlin deteriorate so quickly before his eyes was enough to break his spirit and his hope. But he had to believe that they'd find someone or something that could help Merlin, because the alternative was unthinkable. Merlin did not deserve to die this way; slowly and agonizing while he was still so young and innocent.
From what the villagers of the town had told him Merlin was displaying all the signs of the illness that had accompanied the beast. Everyone who had previous had it had been cured once Merlin had killed the creature, but for some reason Merlin was only getting sicker. Perhaps it was because the monster's sickening magic had entered Merlin's blood through the wound. But Arthur had been told by the villagers, especially Mercy, how painful and nightmarish the illness had been for those infected. Many had died screaming.
Arthur looked at Merlin for the fifth time in one minute. He was so scared that if he turned his head away for too long something even worse might happen to his servant. They had already had one horrible scare that day, they didn't need another. When they had been traveling for maybe an hour they had had to dismount their horses and lead them because they were crossing a stream full of slippery and unstable rocks. Merlin had been mostly unconscious for quite some time at that point and as the horse's movements became less stable and more rickety the boy's limp frame had begun to slide weightlessly off of his horse. If Gwaine and Arthur hadn't been dismounted and nearby when it happened Merlin would have fallen, head first, onto the hard stones of the riverbed. As it was Arthur had just barely managed to grab the boy in time.
After that near-death experience that Merlin had been completely unaware of, Gwaine and Arthur had immediately tied the servant tightly to both the saddle and the horse and their eyes had never strayed from him for more than a minute at a time. Arthur could still feel the fear and adrenaline in his system. If he had been even a few feet farther from him….
Arthur was beyond worrying about his appearances or the fact that he couldn't be seen caring about a simple, if idiotic, servant. He had dropped all pretenses of merely being the boy's master the moment he had seen the tear trails on Merlin's cheeks. He did; however, care if Merlin saw the raw emotion, no longer hidden, on his face. It wasn't that he didn't want Merlin to know that he cared, he simply knew how deeply he felt emotions and if the boy knew that Arthur was worried about him it would only make him feel bad. The last thing Merlin needed right now was to feel worse and Arthur knew that if the boy realized that he was causing anyone emotional pain it would hit him like a blow, especially in his weakened and delirious state. So Arthur kept his emotionless mask in place, just in case Merlin awakened long enough to look at him. Merlin's greatest strength was also his strongest weakness; his love. And Arthur would not be the cause of anymore of that boy's pain.
Arthur glanced up at the sky again. It was getting dark and cloudy rather quickly. The prince hoped it wasn't going to rain soon because that would only make Merlin's condition worse.
Arthur, who was leading his horse again, lead it towards Merlin's and rested his hand on the servant's forehead to check his temperature. But as soon as he did the almost catatonic lad's eyes opened and he cried out in pain. Quickly, Arthur removed his hand and once he did Merlin's eyes slid shut again.
"What happened?" Gwaine asked, appearing by his side and looking beyond concerned and scared. They both were.
"I…I don't know," Arthur responded. Cautiously, Arthur reached out his and and laid it once more on Merlin's head. Again the servant's eyes flew open and this time Arthur could read the unmistakable pain and delirium in them. The hoarse scream that issued from Merlin's abused-from-all-the-coughing throat grated on Arthur's soul.
Arthur pulled away his hand sharply. "It's like even a simple touch hurts him," he remarked in a hollow voice. He knew Merlin and when he was in serious pain the idiot always tried to hide it. If his skin was that sensitive to the touch then sitting on the horse and even his very clothes must be causing him incredible pain. Maybe Merlin wasn't as unconscious as they thought; maybe he was simply using what tiny energy he had to hold in the pain.
Arthur felt his gut twist and for a few seconds he felt like he was going to throw up. The very idea of what Merlin must be going through right now made him sick.
"I never really agreed with your father's views on magic," Gwaine said as his stared at Merlin's shivering and sweating body. "Truthfully I never felt one way or the other about magic. I've never really seen enough of it to form my own opinions. But the creature that did this to Merlin had to have been evil to its very core to do a thing like this to anyone, let alone Merlin."Gwaine clenched his fists in anger. "Merlin doesn't deserve this. This shouldn't be happening."
Arthur started walking and leading his horse again as Gwaine led the other two. "No, it shouldn't." The prince really couldn't say more than that if he wished to hold in his anger and keep himself from hitting something, again.
"Did I ever tell you that Merlin was my first true friend? My only friend?" Gwaine asked without really expecting an answer. "I have no one to be loyal to but him. I owe him a lot. He didn't give up on me or shrug me off as nothing more than an obnoxious drunk. He was the first to ever do that."
Arthur looked over at Gwaine and then down at the ground, hiding his face. "Merlin was my first friend, too. He—" Arthur swallowed to get past the lump in his throat that came from both his ego and the thought that his friend might not be around for much longer. It was like two sides of himself were warring with one another. "I told myself that I had friends, people who were close to me, but I was just fooling myself. Any of the so-called friends I had were only there because they wanted to be on the 'future king's' good side. And I only wanted them there so I could show off my many skills." Arthur gave a short, humorless laugh. "But Merlin was my first friend and he has stayed that way, even when I wasn't a very good friend to him." Arthur ran his hand over his face in an attempt to compose himself. "You're not the only one who owes him." He shared a brief glance with Gwaine then turned his head away.
Arthur sped up. He wasn't used to feeling so many emotions at once. If this was what Merlin felt like all the time then Arthur finally understood all his bumbling around and being late and just overall lack of thought.
Arthur glanced upwards again and was surprised to see that the previously dark and gloomy clouds looked almost black and were thicker and heavier than any the prince had seen before. Suddenly a loud peal of thunder boomed and abruptly a torrent of rain came hurtling down from the heavens. Arthur was surprised at how hard the rain was. But if this rain felt a little uncomfortable to him…
At the same time both Arthur and Gwaine's heads whipped towards Merlin whose skin was more sensitive at the moment than a baby's. The manservant, still laying on the horse, started shivering harder nearly to the point of convulsing and his eyes were now completely wide and his mouth was open in a silent scream. The boy was in too much pain to even make a sound.
Arthur rushed over to him and threw several blankets over him. Even though they would still hurt his skin they would protect him from the harsher and more painful rain as well as keep him warm and dry for as long as possible. Merlin groaned, but at least now he could make some noise.
Lightening flashed and thunder cracked again and the rain began to fall harder and harder. It now felt like the rain was actually bruising Arthur. The prince had never been in such a strong storm with such harsh rain before.
Merlin screamed and Arthur cringed at both the horrible sound and the terrible memory it invoked. "Freya!" Merlin cried out and it sounded like his heart was breaking. The sorrow in his voice was unmistakable.
"We have to get to shelter!" Arthur yelled through the loud noise of the downpour to Gwaine as they both started practically running with their horses. Arthur's eyes darted around frantically, looking for someplace that could provide them protect from this violent onslaught. He didn't take the time to think about who Freya was or why Merlin had sounded so sad when he called out her name. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting them safe.
Another clap of thunder and a vicious and biting wind picked up and the rain pelted them harder still. It was obvious that the horses liked this even less than they did because they were neighing and tugging at their reigns and Merlin's horse even went as far as to try to buck the boy off. Arthur tried to hold the horse down but he couldn't control it and it looked like it was going to try to dislodge its passenger again when Merlin's weary head poked out of its blankets and bent to whisper something in the horse's ear. The exhausted and pained boy pulled back and said breathlessly, "Be calm." And just like that the horse stopped bucking and did exactly as Merlin said. Suddenly it was better behaved than the other two.
But again Arthur didn't stop to think about Merlin's strange actions; he was just grateful that the servant had managed to pull out of his delirium long enough to help them. Even now Merlin was trying to save their lives.
Arthur put one arm over his head to protect it from the rain that now felt as heavy and painful as large stones. It didn't take a genius to figure out that if they didn't get out of this storm soon they'd probably die, especially if it continued to get worse.
Suddenly the three men burst through some trees and Arthur found himself face to face with another horse, but it didn't belong to either Gwaine or Merlin. The horse reared its head in surprise and Arthur jumped back, startling his own horse. Arthur looked up at the rider of the animal and was shocked to see that it was some sort of soldier and a fairly young one at that.
The man's eyes flitted over their group expertly, a warrior looking for any threat, and after he assessed them for a moment longer he turned his head and called over his shoulder to another man behind him. "Cirrus, extend the field!"
The man named Cirrus replied, "I'll try, but I'm not sure if I can." The man began to mutter some words that Arthur couldn't make out over the din and suddenly the man's eyes flashed a dull gold. A brief flash of gold streaked over Arthur's head and the prince barely even caught it in the corner of his eye.
Abruptly the rain and the wind and the noise lessened. The wind went away completely and the rain changed to a light drizzle. But Arthur wasn't paying much attention to the changing weather. The second he had seen the gold in that man's eyes his training had kicked in and his hand had twitched to his sword. But for once Arthur's brain caught up with body and the prince realized exactly what this man was. He wasn't an enemy or something to kill, he was hope. More specifically, Merlin's hope. Arthur relaxed his hand.
"You have magic," he whispered, which no one seemed to hear, except Merlin, who stirred slightly.
The man on the horse that Arthur had almost run into and who seemed to be a captain locked eyes with him and said, "My name is Jonathon. You can tell me who you are later, but right now we need to get indoors. Cirrus' spell won't hold out much longer. Mount your horses; we'll need to ride fast."
Arthur did mount his horse, but there was a far more pressing issue than some spell. "That man, Cirrus, has magic?" he asked.
"Of course," the soldier replied quickly. He obviously wanted to get moving. "If he didn't none of us would be alive."
"My friend is sick, injured, he needs magical attention right away," Arthur said, gesturing to Merlin's prone form.
Jonathon looked towards Cirrus, who after a brief moment of consideration said, "I wish I could help him, I really do. Unfortunately my powers are almost completely spent and it's taking all my energy to protect us from the brunt of the rain. If I even attempted to heal so much as a scratch I'd only end up hurting your friend and knocking myself unconscious."
"And if he isn't awake to maintain the spell protecting us," Jonathon continued, "then we'd all be mashed to a pulp by the rain. Cirrus can't do any more than he's already doing right now, but if you follow us then we'll take you to the castle. There are many healers there who are more than able to help your friend. I'm sorry that we can't help now, but to even try could be fatal for us all. Your friend will just have to hold on." Jonathon really did seem concerned for Merlin, which surprised Arthur.
The prince met Gwaine's gaze and together they agreed. What Merlin needed right now was some very powerful healers. They would go with these people. Hopefully everyone else they would meet would be as nice as these two were.
Arthur glanced over at Merlin again. The boy was no longer convulsing in pain, which was a good sign, but he seemed even less alert now. He was sinking back into whatever dark place had been consuming him for the last six or so hours. But before Merlin's eyes drifted completely shut the boy mumbled one last thing. "Arthur."
The prince looked at his friend. "I'm here, Merlin, just hold on. You'll be back to annoying me in no time." Arthur turned his grim face away. He sincerely hoped that Merlin would be okay, but everything he had seen in the last few hours wasn't very encouraging. Merlin was seriously sick and he was fading fast. But some part of Arthur found hope in the fact that even mostly unconscious and in pain Merlin still said his name. Merlin was trying to hold on, Arthur could see that. He just hoped that they could get him to a healer soon enough. Arthur didn't know what he'd do if they were too late.
So I hope that was interesting enough for you. Once again, I am truly sorry for how long this chapter took me and for how far away the next one is. Since I'll be going soon would you please review and tell me what you like about this chapter? I could use something uplifting like that before I go.