A/N: Thank you Buckhunter, pallysAramisRios, GuestM, and Guest for reviewing!
Chapter 3
Merlin sat in front of the bonfire, huddled in smelly, coarse tarpaulin for warmth. After a few hours, his clothes were mostly dry, but it wasn't exactly balmy out, even with the cloud cover having burned off and the sun shining directly down on them. Around him, men moved in and out of the makeshift camp they'd set up. Several tents had been erected with the sails, and salvaged supplies were being sorted and organized. Merlin should have been helping, but Gwaine had given him strict orders to sit there before he caught his death. Not that Merlin was prone to taking Gwaine seriously, but he did feel rather awful after nearly drowning at sea.
He was lucky, though. Two crew members were confirmed dead, their bodies having washed up some time after the rest of them had started making camp. Five others were still lost, including three of the knights. Merlin wanted to be out there looking for them, but Arthur had been adamant that they had to see to their immediate needs first. It was the equivalent of battle triage, and Merlin understood that. Still, he was worried about his friends.
He reached a hand up to rub at his sternum. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest he couldn't get to loosen.
"Found a stream feeding into the sea down the beach," Gwaine announced as he came over with several plump waterskins. "At least we don't have to go looking for water."
He immediately handed one to Merlin, who only made a paltry attempt at taking a swig. Swallowing instantly triggered a cough, one that sounded far too guttural, and Merlin could hear Gaius's voice in his head touting caution over such a condition.
Gwaine thumped him on the back. "You all right, mate?"
"Fine," he said hoarsely and capped the waterskin before setting it down.
"I found most of our armor," Elyan said as he approached, arms full of swords in their scabbards and lots of chainmail. "Luckily that part of the deck hadn't flooded."
He set his armful down and Arthur stepped forward to dig through the pile for his own armaments, which he began putting on. Merlin was glad he didn't have to wear armor, because just the thought of a weighted chainmail shirt made his chest tighten further.
Gwaine and Elyan picked out their armor next and slipped into the pieces they had.
Arthur turned to the ship's crew. "We're going to start exploring the island, see what resources are available, and hopefully find our missing men. The rest of you remain here and start cataloging what repairs the ship needs to get us home. If we have to rebuild her from the ground up, we will."
Merlin shrugged the tarpaulin off and pushed himself to his feet with effort.
"Merlin," Gwaine said, giving him an austere look.
"I'm fine," he repeated.
"You should stay here and rest," Arthur put in.
"You have no idea what's out there," Merlin rejoined. "I should go with you."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "And do what?"
"What I usually do," Merlin replied cheekily. Save their hides when they weren't looking.
Arthur just huffed but didn't bother arguing further, and they all set off, making their way up the beach to the looming woods. Once under its eaves, they kept to the edge so they could keep an eye on the shore in case they spotted their missing members.
"Keep an eye out for the dóreaastrum," Arthur said.
Right, couldn't forget about the reason they'd come here. Merlin roved his gaze around the surrounding foliage for a five-petaled flower with a pure white center and crimson edges.
Soon the beach to their right ran straight into a cliff face, and they were forced to veer left into the forest, taking a gradually ascending path up to the top of the plateau. Arthur reasoned that higher ground would give them a better survey of the area, and potentially the height to spot their friends from.
Merlin didn't disagree, but he was wheezing by the time they reached the flat land at the top. His chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vise, and he was ready to admit that maybe coming along hadn't been such a good idea.
Arthur went to the edge of the cliff and swept his gaze across the shores below. Merlin tried to look around as well, but the discomfort in his chest was making him squint in pain.
"If they washed up against those cliffs…" Gwaine started but didn't finish the statement.
"They could have washed up on the other side of them," Elyan said, trying to be optimistic.
Merlin wished he could use his magic to find them. He also wished he could use his magic to alleviate the pressure in his chest, because this was getting to be unbearable. A cough punched its way up his throat, and he doubled over as a fit subsequently assailed him. He tried to get them under control, but they were so forceful that the jerking movements made him dizzy, and before he knew it, he was dropping to his knees.
"Merlin!" Gwaine rushed over and grabbed his shoulders to brace him.
Arthur dropped down on his other side. "Why couldn't you have stayed put like you were told?" he chastised, but there was genuine concern behind the reprimand.
Not that Merlin was in any shape to recognize that. He'd started shivering violently and felt utterly wretched.
"We should take him back," Gwaine said.
Merlin wanted to protest that no, they needed to keep searching, but the coughing wouldn't let him get a word or breath in.
"Arthur!" Elyan suddenly exclaimed in warning.
Both Arthur and Gwaine immediately jerked their hands to their swords, though they weren't in a good position to draw. Merlin struggled to lift his head and gazed blearily at a group of men holding spears and bows and arrows that had surrounded them out of nowhere.
"Wait," Arthur said, slowly getting to his feet with palms raised non-threateningly. "We mean you no harm. Our ship was caught in last night's storm and was run aground." He gestured toward the wreck visible from the ridge.
One of the natives lowered his spear. "Do you have wounded?"
"My manservant is ill," Arthur replied, pointing to Merlin kneeling at his feet.
The man nodded and signaled to the others to lower their weapons. "Bring him," he said before turning away.
Arthur exchanged an uncertain look with Gwaine. Merlin moaned and folded over on himself more. He couldn't seem to breathe properly…
Hands gripped his shoulders and leaned him back, then arms were sliding under his back and legs and hefting him up off the ground. He had the vague thought that he should be embarrassed by such treatment, but everything was swirling in a dizzying eddy of colors as Gwaine set off after the newcomers.
Merlin tried not to cough while Gwaine was carrying him, but every breath hurt and threatened to ignite another round of hacking. Why were his lungs rebelling against him?
A village came into view, set at the base of a mountain.
"These men shipwrecked on our shore," the man informed a group of villagers. "This one is sick."
"Bring him inside, quickly," said an older man with long dark hair and a headdress of woven cane.
The sky was replaced with a warm wood ceiling, and Merlin moaned as he was laid on a pile of furs on the floor.
"What is the nature of his sickness?" a feminine voice asked.
"I don't know," Gwaine replied. "He didn't seem sick until after we'd been walking for a bit."
"You say your ship wrecked; how much seawater did he inhale?"
"He coughed up some when we pulled him from the tide," Arthur answered.
"He was half drowned," Gwaine said gruffly.
Merlin felt he should have been contributing to the conversation, but his vision was darkening and his chest kept hitching with labored breaths that were more and more shallow each time.
He watched a woman with long black hair go to a cauldron sitting in the fireplace and scoop out a bowl of steaming water. She then took some plants and crushed them in her hands before sprinkling them into the bowl. After that, she returned and knelt beside Merlin, holding the bowl under his face. Steam wafted up with a floral aroma. The little bit that suffused into his nose felt soothing, and he found himself trying to inhale deeply.
That only triggered another bout of vicious coughing, and he almost knocked the bowl out of her lovely hands as he bucked. She placed a hand on his shoulder to brace him and held the bowl steady.
"Keep breathing," she instructed.
Merlin tried, desperate for oxygen. He felt a prickle in the air that was almost certainly magic, and he had a split instant of panic for what Arthur would say.
But the woman's eyes didn't glow gold with a spell, and no one else seemed to notice.
The steam continued to buffet Merlin's face, and each breath started to come easier and easier until he finally drifted off.
.o.0.o.
Arthur watched as Merlin fell asleep under the woman's ministrations. "Will he be all right?" he asked worriedly. Faced with losing a handful of his dearest friends along with his wife, Arthur couldn't bear the thought of losing one more, especially Merlin.
"Yes," the older man replied. "The steam will help break up the buildup in his lungs, and we have other medicines to treat the inflammation. My daughter Calla will tend him."
The woman at Merlin's side glanced up and nodded to them.
"I am Kieran, Chieftain of this village," the man went on.
"I'm Arthur, King of Camelot. These are two of my knights, Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan. Thank you for your help."
Kieran inclined his head in greeting. "It is fortunate you wrecked on this side of the island. Other parts are less hospitable. We will help you in any way we can so you may resume your journey."
"Actually," Arthur said. "This isle was our destination. We came in search of a magical flower, the dóreaastrum. My wife has been placed under a magical curse and it is our last hope to save her."
Kieran's brows knitted together in contemplation. "The star lily possesses great power, and for that, it is sacred."
"I understand that, but if it can save my wife, then we cannot leave without it."
"Please," Elyan interjected. "Do you know where we can find it?"
"We can discuss the matter," Kieran said diplomatically. "But later. You all look in need of rest and food. I will have nourishment brought in."
With that, he exited the hut.
Arthur sighed, trying to bite back a surge of impatience. Kieran was right, though: they were all worn, not to mention they wouldn't be leaving the island any time soon. They had time.
Arthur just hoped Guinevere did too.
.o.0.o.
Lancelot had just about finished off the contents of Lily's waterskin by the time they reached a large pool of water, and the pain in his head had gone down significantly.
"Thank you," he said, handing the skin back to her.
She gave him a pleased smile and went to rinse out the container before filling it with fresh water.
Leon and Percival knelt at the edge of the pool, scooping water into their palms to quench their thirst.
"Lily," Leon spoke up. "You have knowledge of medicinal plants. We're searching for a flower said to have magical healing properties."
"Lancelot mentioned that," she replied, capping the waterskin and moving away from the pool.
Leon stood up. "Well? Is it real and does it grow here?"
"We can ask the elders in my village," she said neutrally. She suddenly went rigid, eyes widening. "Get away from the water."
Her tone was oddly sharp but she hadn't raised her voice. The three knights automatically turned their gazes to the pool as Leon and Percival backed away. Lancelot saw a pair of gleaming yellow eyes rippling beneath the tranquil surface. In the next instant, something leaped up with a splash of water and launched itself at Percival with a roar. The large knight dove out of the way, and the creature went sailing over him to land on the ground, scrabbling around on four legs as claws kicked up earth. It had a feline form, but with a glistening black hide that Lancelot couldn't tell was slicked back fur or bristly scales.
With a beastly roar, it charged Percival a second time, who could do nothing but try to dive out of the way again. None of them had weapons with which to defend themselves. The large cat swiped a massive paw, catching Percival across the upper arm with its claws. He tripped and went sprawling as the creature spun around to narrow in on him.
Lancelot snatched up a thick branch and surged forward, swinging with all his might. The branch struck the cat in the flank, but that only seemed to make it angry as it whirled on him with a spitting hiss. Its hindquarters rippled a split second before it leaped, barreling into Lancelot and knocking him to the ground. He still had a hold of the branch, which was the only thing standing in the way of the cat's fangs clamping down on his jugular. Claws scrabbled on either side of him, and once inch to the right or left would have him eviscerated.
Percival clambered to his feet and grabbed his own branch. So did Leon, and the two of them rushed forward in an attempt to beat the creature off of Lancelot. The beast snarled and snapped its jaws at them, but otherwise didn't seem daunted by their piddly pieces of wood. Lancelot struggled to keep the branch up and catching the cat's fangs as it turned back to gnash its teeth at him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily kneeling on the ground frantically trying to strike a flint over a freshly broken branch with a bunch of leaves. A spark caught the foliage and sprang to life at the fuel. Lily jumped up and ran forward, brandishing the flaming branch in the cat's face.
It hissed and leaped backward off of Lancelot but didn't flee, only began to circle around Lily, growling. She advanced, waving the fire in its face again. The cat backed up, still hissing. But Lily pressed on, until finally the creature pivoted and leaped back into the pool, disappearing into its depths.
Lancelot pushed himself off the ground, chest heaving from the close call.
"What was that?" Percival asked, also breathless.
"The cath palug," Lily replied as she brought her burning branch over and held it to the ends of their branches to light them. "We need to go."
"Percival?" Lancelot asked in concern as he tried to get a look at the slash marks across his friend's bicep.
Percival grimaced as he angled his arm to see for himself. There were three gashes, wide but not very deep. Lancelot handed Leon his burning branch so he could rip a strip of cloth from the bottom of his tunic, which he then used to make a temporary bandage.
"Hurry," Lily urged, glancing anxiously back at the pool.
Lancelot finished tying off the bandage and took the makeshift torch back. Then they set off again, following Lily through the forest of an island that was proving more and more dangerous by the hour.