AN: Should I apologize for more angst? Nah. lol I will apologize for the length of this chapter, though. I had to get to a natural stopping point.Signal27: nice to "see" you again. Thanks for sticking with me.Gingeraffealene: as usual, you made me laugh. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far.Most recent "guest": thank you for your kind words!

CHAPTER 11: Beware My Fangs

Arthur only let himself wallow for a moment. Then, as he'd been taught, he divided what he had to do by order of urgency. Step one: get up. He couldn't move the bloody hound, but his wrist was trapped between the hound and Merlin's leg. Perhaps he could slide his wrist sideways. With effort, he slid it up and – there! – it fell off the side of Merlin's leg, giving him the space to pull free.

It took some doing to get his right leg straightened and sit up without pushing down on poor Merlin, but he managed. With a grunt, he pried the jaws off his left calf and climbed to his knees.

His next goal was to regain his sword, which took only a second. He broke from his methodical list for a moment to tap Merlin's cheek, but the latter didn't react. He knew he should make sure he himself was alright first, because he was no help to anyone if he passed out, but it was hard to turn away from his friend.

Gaining his feet made his next priority glaringly obvious: take care of his torn right calf. His pant leg was soaked with blood and the leg nearly gave way. He'd have to stop the bleeding, and fast. He whistled for his newly-acquired horse and it came right out of the trees. Say what you want about Morgana, she knew how to train a horse. He found a cloak in one of the saddle bags and retrieved his dagger to cut off several long strips. He wrapped them around the injured area over his pants as tightly as he could stand. It hurt going on, but the pressure immediately helped. More care would have to wait.

Now he had to move the hound off Merlin's legs. He considered using his sword as a lever to pry the thing off, but there was too much potential for damage to Merlin if he slipped. After a few moments of contemplation, he realized that there was a rope attached to the horse's saddle. He grabbed it and tied it around the heavy body. The other end he tied to the saddle horn, then lead the horse away until it had done the work for him.

He stroked the silky black nose. The horse really was a beauty. "You shall have the nicest stall in all of Camelot," he promised. "You are fit for a queen."

That lead his to the task he'd been waiting for but also dreading: check Merlin for further injuries. A quick once-over revealed no blood, to his relief. It seemed like the hounds hadn't reached him. But with him unconscious again, Arthur had no idea how he could help. He found a bedroll on the horse and carefully put it under Merlin's head. As he did, the sorcerer's eyes suddenly flew open and he grabbed Arthur's wrist in a bruising grip. The irises were completely gold. When he spoke, his voice didn't sound like his, but like that of an old man. The transformation was so complete Arthur thought he could actually see a familiar, long-haired man superimposed over the Merlin he knew.

"Once and Future King, uniter of Albion, cheater of death, destiny-changer. To birth your dynasty, you must unite the seven. Of the twelve, two have been lost and three are not yet. Unite the seven, Noble Courage. Unite. The. Seven." Images flashed past Arthur's eyes too fast to see them all: parchment, an hourglass, the Pendragon crest. Then Merlin dropped his wrist, his eyes turned back to normal blue, and the images disappeared.

"What was that?!" demanded the king.

"What was what?" Merlin looked adorably confused, and his voice was back to normal.

"All of that stuff," Arthur waved his hand. "unite the seven, you know."

Merlin's face was totally blank. "Arthur, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Your eyes went all weird and gold," Arthur was annoyed. "And you talked in this old man voice about birthing a dynasty and uniting seven. You called me Noble Courage or something."

"I would never call you something so nice," teased Merlin groggily. "It's so strange that I don't know what I said. But if my eyes were gold, I was doing magic somehow." He blinked slowly. His mind was running at about half speed, it felt like. He knew there was significance to what Arthur was telling him, but the pain in his head was so distracting.

"How are you feeling?" Arthur changed the subject. "I took care of those fiery hounds while you took a nice lie-down."

"Mph."

"Then you won't mind if we move farther from the trees?"

"No!" Well, yelling hurt too. "No, Arthur, I can't. My head hurts --" everything hurt, really, "but I'm okay if I just don't try to move."

"I'm afraid we don't have much choice." Arthur's mouth set in a grim line. "There are more of them."

"You're hurt!" Merlin realized. "Let me try and heal you."

"Wait, no, Merlin. When you killed that hound, it hurt you, and you passed out. You need your energy. If you can, heal yourself. Otherwise, you need to rest." He used his sword to help him stand. "Now, get better so I can yell at you for hiding your magic." Merlin's answer was lost in a growl that was echoed half a dozen other places just out of sight in the trees.

Arthur took three limping steps away from Merlin, aware that he was in no shape to take on another contingent of the beasts, but not willing to lie down and give up. He'd realized that he knew the old visage that he'd seen superimposed over Merlin's face, and the visions the crystal had showed him proved that this was just another facet of his friend. "You think you can attack Emrys while he is weak and injured?" he growled. "Come on, then, and see if he is without allies."

The first hound snarled and flew right at his torso, but Arthur had anticipated this. Dropping to one knee, he held his sword out in front of him, braced with his body weight, and allowed the creature's own weight and momentum to impale it. He pulled the sword free and rose again, parrying a lunge at his left, but the injured leg gave way and the hound was not deflected as much as he'd hoped. Hound and man crashed together to the ground, though Arthur rolled free before he was crushed. He climbed to his knees and fought from there, staring down death in the form of piercing teeth.

But right before death found him again, he heard the sound of thundering hooves and ringing steel. The hound that was less than a foot from his face yelped and disappeared. Leon stood before him, offering a hand up.

"Never let it be said that you lack a sense of timing," said Arthur with a tired and very relieved laugh, accepting the hand up. Recalling the situation, he added, "protect Merlin. He's badly injured."

"We've got you, Sire," responded the knight, and Arthur realized the hounds were all fleeing into the woods in response to the overwhelming force.

"Couldn't leave some for us to kill, eh Arthur?" asked Percival with a huge smile, clasping the king's forearm next.

Then Gaius was in front of him, grasping both his arms. "Arthur!" he broke protocol, fairly unusual for him since Arthur had become king. Arthur was touched and a little embarrassed to see the sheen of tears in the physician's eyes. "I – I thought you might be...well, suffice it to say I am more than pleased to see you."

Arthur grasped Gaius' arms back. "Merlin wasn't about to let me die, I guess." Then his smile melted off and a frown took its place. "Merlin needs you, Gaius. I don't know how to help him."

Gaius' gaze flicked from Arthur to Merlin and back again. He looked torn. "It seems you both need my services."

"Merlin first," insisted the king. "That's an order. My wounds are minor, but he has a head injury."

Gaius nodded and hurried to his ward, affection clear on his lined face.

Suddenly, a scream split the air. The captured Saxon was staring at Arthur with a look of pure horror. He raised his bound wrists to point. "You were mortally wounded! You were dead! Can't. You. Be. Killed?"

The words he needed came to Arthur. "I am the Once and Future King. Emrys fights at my side. Tell your king or whomever you serve that to attack those I consider mine is to beg for death." The man stumbled back, unable to speak for fear. Arthur nodded at the closest knight, Sir Bedivere. "Cut him free." The man fled without a backwards glance, and Leon nodded to himself. The king had done just what he and Gaius had thought prudent, but first he'd made the man even more frightened. Perfect.

"We have to move away from the trees," Arthur instructed Leon. "It is hard for Merlin to be moved, so have two men do it as gently as possible."

"Yes, Sire. We'll make camp and build a fire so Gaius can take care of you both." Without asking permission, Leon pulled Arthur's arm across his own shoulder and only grunted when the king complained.

Percival and a young man Arthur only knew as Leon's new protege gently carried Merlin, and the young man's awed, whispered words reached them. "Look at how many he killed on his own!"

"You have an admirer, Arthur," smirked Leon.

"Shut it, Leon."