A/N: Thank you SnidgetHex, GuestM, Buckhunter, Guest, and pallysAramisRios for reviewing!

Chapter 4

"What if something like this happens again on the road?" Leon asked.

"We'll ride hard for Camelot," Arthur replied. He didn't want to spend another moment here entrusting their safety and Lancelot's life to these people.

Elyan burst through the curtain, breathless. "Got the bag."

They all turned toward Merlin, the next best thing to the court physician, just in time to see him suddenly slump over on the side of the cot. Rodan leaned back from his position at the head.

"What did you just do?" Arthur demanded furiously.

Gwaine stormed over and seized the Druid by the front of his robes and hauled him to his feet angrily.

Rodan raised his hands in surrender. "I sent Merlin into Sir Lancelot's vision quest."

Arthur's jaw went slack in sheer disbelief and stupefaction. "You did what?"

Gwaine gave the man a vicious shake and seethed, "Who gave you the right?"

Rodan flinched. "Merlin's desire to preserve the peace treaty makes him a neutral party to speak to the goddess on your behalf."

Arthur moved in on him, rage vibrating throughout his entire body. "You don't get to make that decision."

"Lancelot is being attacked," Leon added. "You should have sent one of us."

"Do not underestimate Merlin," Rodan said.

Gwaine was still holding the man by his robes, so Arthur couldn't shake the Druid himself, but he pressed in close and lowered his voice.

"If either of my men die, you will pay."

Rodan averted his gaze, and Gwaine swung him around and shoved him out of the alcove.

"What now?" Elyan asked, still holding Merlin's bag of medicine, but now Merlin was unconscious.

Percival crouched beside Merlin and checked him over. "His breathing and heartbeat are strong and steady," he reported.

Arthur exhaled heavily. "What about Lancelot?"

Leon moved around to the head of the cot and bent down to check. "His pulse is fast."

"The bleeding's stopped," Percival added. He looked up at Arthur. "Are we still leaving?"

Arthur's jaw tightened as he considered his now two men trapped in some dream spell. "No," he grudgingly decided. "We might need the Druids' magic if things get worse."

"If they're willing to help," Gwaine snorted.

"Rodan did send Merlin into Lancelot's vision," Percival pointed out.

"Do we think that will even help?" Elyan asked. "We don't even know what's happening. And Merlin isn't a knight."

"Merlin isn't as helpless as everyone thinks," Gwaine said gruffly.

That was true, but still, Rodan's actions were borderline treacherous in Arthur's mind. And their goddess help them if either one of his friends came to further harm…

.o.0.o.

Lancelot sat on the ground at the base of the cliff, injured arm lying limply in his lap. He'd managed to get up that far but no further, too pained and exhausted to even think of trying to stand. If only that staff was a little taller, he might have used it as a crutch.

The air several feet in front of him began to shimmer, and he tensed, reaching stiffly for his sword, only to be stunned speechless when Merlin suddenly popped in out of thin air. He swayed as he oriented himself, eyes blowing wide as he noticed Lancelot, and then he was sprinting across the short distance to drop down beside him and immediately reaching for his injured arm.

Lancelot finally found his voice and sputtered dubiously, "Merlin? Are you really here?"

"Yes." Merlin's attention was fixed on Lancelot's arm as he peeled back the makeshift bandage Lancelot had worked so hard to apply. He spared a moment to cast a look around, frowning at the dead wolves that were slowly disintegrating into wispy chaff where they lay. "Where's the goddess?"

"Which one?" Lancelot asked numbly.

"The one who brought you here, the one who's doing this," Merlin said urgently as he gestured to Lancelot's arm. He then held a hand over the grisly bite marks and uttered a spell.

Lancelot sagged as warm magic seeped into his arm, then winced as he felt it mend some of the torn muscle back together.

Merlin glowered at the wounds when the spell finished, having failed to completely heal it all.

"Thank you," Lancelot breathed. "That's a little better."

Merlin shot him a dry look calling him out for the fib, then looked around the area again. He grimaced as he turned back to Lancelot. "Mind if I cut off more of your tunic?"

He shrugged. "It's not real anyway, is it?"

"I guess not, but these wounds certainly are," Merlin huffed as he picked up Lancelot's sword and deftly cut another strip of fabric, which he then used to bind the arm more securely.

"They certainly hurt like they're real," Lancelot agreed, sucking in a sharp breath as Merlin tightened the ends of the bandage.

Merlin's expression was fraught with worry. "No, these marks manifested on your physical body."

Lancelot blinked. "Oh. So…if we were to be mortally wounded in this place…?"

"Yeah. So where's the goddess so I can negotiate an end to this?"

Lancelot shook his head. "It's not like that. The one who brought me here, Coventina, she had a quest for me to undertake that apparently only I can see through." He grunted as he shifted and pulled the staff out from his belt. "The Staff of Moirai, capable of undoing fate. There's a pocket space or something in this realm I'm to take it to where no one will ever be able to get to it again. I'm the only one who can pass between the spaces because of the time I walked into the Veil. There's another goddess—she sent the wolves—who wants it for herself."

Merlin rocked back onto his haunches. "Okay…that changes things."

"I'm sorry I had no way of letting you all know."

Merlin grimaced. "That's part of the problem. Everyone's furious that Rodan served us wine capable of initiating a vision quest with the goddess without our knowledge. I doubt he knew anything about this quest, though."

Lancelot hummed. "Probably not."

"Arthur's going to be even more angry now that I've joined you. I had hoped to just come in and get you out before things escalated back in the waking world, but it seems like that's not going to work out."

Lancelot grunted and struggled to get to his feet. "I did agree to this quest, and I must see it through," he said, panting by the time he made it fully upright with Merlin bracing him. "Perhaps you could return and tell Arthur what's transpired?"

Merlin shook his head. "No offense, but you can barely stand. You may be needed to complete the quest, but I'm going to make sure you do, and then get us both home."

Lancelot smiled gratefully. "How bad are things with Arthur, though?"

"He's on the verge of war with the Druids, but hopefully he'll hold off until we finish this," Merlin replied far too glibly for the situation.

Lancelot winced. He hated to think he was going to be the cause of the peace treaty falling apart. Maybe there was still time to complete this mission and get back to save it.

"I was supposed to follow the stream, but I lost it after I had to flee an attack."

Merlin furrowed his brow and looked around. "Any idea of the direction?"

Lancelot frowned and glanced up at the cliff he'd scaled down. There would be no going back up that way. He envisioned where the river had been and the direction he'd run. "Maybe that way," he said, gesturing vaguely.

"Good a place as any to start," Merlin replied, and they set off together at a hobbling pace.

They paused twice for Merlin to attempt another healing spell. It still didn't magically fix Lancelot's arm, but he felt better from the blood loss and shock and was able to walk unaided finally. And they somehow managed to find the stream again. At least, Lancelot hoped it was the right stream and not another one. But given it was the only one in sight, they decided to follow it.

He cast his gaze up and down the banks; there was no sign of the dark goddess or any of her shadow creatures.

"I think the Vilia called her the Morrigan," he said aloud. "The one who's after the staff."

Merlin pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "I've read about her. She's the goddess of war and death."

"Then it'd probably be very bad if she got her hands on this," Lancelot replied, gesturing to the staff in his hand.

"Probably," he agreed, then frowned and pulled up short. The stream had abruptly stopped. "Is this it?"

Lancelot looked around uncertainly. "It doesn't look like there's any fold between worlds here."

Merlin crouched next to the stream. "The current's still flowing pretty strongly. It must go underground."

Lancelot sighed wearily. "How are we supposed to follow it now?"

Merlin flashed him a grin and then turned back to the water, holding out his hand and uttering a spell. A moment later, a glittering blue path like stardust began to sweep across the ground, tracing out the path the underground river was taking.

Lancelot shook his head with a smile. "I'm really glad you're here, Merlin."

Merlin grinned wider and stood up, and they followed the trail of magic until the stream re-emerged and continued on its way.

Until they lost it again when the stream bed completely dried up. In fact, the entire area was nothing but caked and cracked earth. And there still wasn't anything Lancelot would call a "fold in space."

"It's still here," Merlin called, gazing down between the cracks in the dirt. Deep in the crevices, a glimmer of trickling water was still making its way downstream. "It's not making this easy, though, is it?"

Lancelot huffed. "You didn't see the live brambles that almost gave me frostbite just from touching them."

Merlin frowned at that. "Let's pick up the pace and get this over with."

Yet before they could take a step, the Morrigan emerged from behind a gnarled tree trunk just ahead. Lancelot stiffened and drew his sword.

"Your journey ends here," she said darkly. Around her, shadows bubbled up from the cracks like oil and coalesced into black, wyvern type creatures.

Merlin stretched out his hand and drew his shoulders back. "Don't," he warned.

The Morrigan sneered. "You are young, Emrys. It will take many more years before you're a match for me." Her black eyes flashed gold, and the shadow creatures launched forward.

Merlin cast a spell that threw two of them back through the air, while Lancelot slashed his sword at one that charged him. Like with the wolves, his blade sliced through solid flesh, spraying ichor across the parched ground. Merlin shouted something in a deep voice that rattled on the air like thunder, but whatever spell that was, it wasn't effective, and the shadow monsters converged on the two men. Lancelot fought to hold them at bay with his weapon while Merlin switched to other magical attacks that did knock a few more away before they could get close enough to take out a pound of flesh.

Then Morrigan spread her arms, splaying her robes, which rose up behind her and sprouted black feathers. Lancelot faltered as he watched her shape shift into a giant crow and take to the air. Then she was diving straight at him.

He swung his sword up, but she caught the blade in her talons and wrenched it away. The gust of her wingbeats propelled him back a step, and then those claws were curling around the staff and trying to yank it from his other hand. He grabbed hold with both hands and fought to hold on, even as her thwacking wings began to lift him off the ground. The crow screeched and snapped its razor sharp beak at his fingers. Lancelot reflexively jerked one hand away, and then he was dangling from his still injured arm, which threatened to buckle under the weight.

Merlin shouted something in that magic language, and a fireball came flying through the air and struck the crow in the chest. She dropped the staff and Lancelot, and he hit the ground hard. Merlin tried to run to him, but he was set upon by those shadow wyverns.

Lancelot scrambled to his feet and toward his sword, but the giant crow swooped back around and tackled him, knocking him to the ground and landing on top of his chest. He threw the staff up to protect his face from her striking beak that slashed across his arms. Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, Lancelot was beyond thought as he thrust the staff at the Morrigan, wanting just to get her away.

A whomp of power surged from the blackthorn wood and struck her in the chest, sending her flying backward straight into the air with a startled squawk. The crow shrank and vanished with a pop, and her shadow creatures burst into smoke. Lancelot looked around and met Merlin's equally stunned gaze.

The staff in his hand vibrated and then suddenly sprouted several thorny shoots that plunged straight into Lancelot's palm and out the other side. He screamed in shock and agony as they twined around each other and back through his hand again, binding it to the staff. He cried out again in searing pain and fell onto his side as Merlin rushed over, eyes wide with horror.

Lancelot choked as a spasm wracked his body, his arm convulsing against the staff and making the tiny thorns tear at his skin further. He could feel the staff's pulsing energy, black and sinister. It hooked its barbs into him and began to suction out his life force.