"Into the Labyrinth"
It was a bleak, damp day as the Knights of the Round Table escorted King Arthur home from yet another visit to a neighboring kingdom. Now that Arthur was King and had reclaimed the throne from Morgana, he had a lot of repair work to do convincing Camelot's neighbors that they were still a strong kingdom to be respected—and reckoned with.
Their horses' hooves squelched in the mud as they cut a track through some woodland. Though the rain had stopped over an hour ago, cold, fat drops still plopped down from the canopy of sodden leaves onto their heads. Lancelot couldn't wait to arrive home and plant himself in front of the large hearth in the common room.
"There's a stream over there," Merlin suddenly called out. "We should water the horses."
"We're all watered enough," Gwaine groused, shaking his damp head and sending droplets splattering Elyan and Percival riding next to him.
"We're still a few hours from Camelot," Leon advised Arthur.
Arthur nodded and signaled for them to stop. They each dismounted and led their horses toward the stream to drink. Lancelot crouched down and palmed a small bit of water to slake his own thirst before standing and moving away, eyes scanning the surrounding trees out of habit. Percival came to stand beside him as Gwaine continued to complain about the rain and mud.
"I'm the one who'll have to clean it off Arthur's armor and tack when we get back," Merlin lamented.
No sooner had the words left his mouth that his foot slipped out from under him and he went sprawling on his back in the mud. A chorus of guffaws went up.
"You'll have to clean it off yourself first, mate," Gwaine replied.
Merlin shot him a dark scowl and tried to push himself up, only to slip again, which earned him another round of laughter. Even Lancelot couldn't help cracking a smile. For all of Merlin's prowess and magical might, sometimes he really was the bumbling servant he pretended to be.
Elyan finally took pity on him and went to help him up.
Arthur walked by Lancelot and Percival, craning his head back to scan the pewter sky. "Hard to say whether the rain will pick up again."
"It looks dreary, but I doubt it," Percival commented.
Suddenly the ground beneath them began to rumble and shake. Lancelot and Percival reflexively reached out to grasp each other for balance. But it didn't matter, for the earth suddenly gave way under their feet, and Lancelot's stomach flipped up into his throat as he abruptly dropped. Arthur frantically tried to grab at them, but the ground crumbled beneath him as well, and then all three of them were falling.
Lancelot hit solid earth but that didn't stop his descent. He continued to tumble down a long, steep slope, Percival's and Arthur's cries echoing behind his own. It felt endless, until finally he slid off a ledge and was free-falling again for a split second before he landed hard on unshifting ground, the air punching from his lungs. Percival and Arthur fell on top of him, further driving the oxygen from his abused sternum, their limbs and armor knocking against him painfully.
There was a series of groans among them as Percival and Arthur shifted. Lancelot couldn't even move, trapped beneath them. He heard more grunts as they bumped against each other trying to disentangle themselves, and Lancelot coughed when they finally rolled off his chest. For a long moment, he simply lay there, slightly dazed and trying to get his breath back. Above them, the earth continued to moan and rumble. Then it settled.
With the stillness, Lancelot realized it was pitch black. He blinked furiously, wondering if it was just his vision, but nothing cleared, not even a hint of blurred sight.
A low groan sounded to his right. "Ungh, Lancelot? Percival?"
"Here," Percival replied roughly.
"Ow," Arthur exclaimed a second later.
"Sorry."
"Lancelot?" Arthur called worriedly.
Lancelot wasn't sure he wanted to move yet, but at least his lungs were working again. "Here." He carefully pushed himself into sitting upright, testing arms and legs to see if anything was broken. Miraculously, he seemed to be in one piece. "Either of you hurt?"
"I don't think so," Percival answered. "Kinda hard to tell at the moment, though."
"I think my bruises have bruises," Arthur said. "Damn it, I can't see a thing."
Lancelot stretched his arm out, patting his hand around the dirt. His knuckles bumped against a piece of wood and he gradually felt along its length. It was a decent size branch.
"Hang on," he said, shifting up onto his knees and feeling blindly for the edge of his cloak. When he had hold of the fabric, he ripped a large strip off and then wrapped it around one end of the wood. Then he fished out his flint and set the makeshift torch right in front of him. He tried to visualize it in his mind as he lined up the flint, then struck it. After a few sparks, the fabric caught, low at first, but then with a blazing fire that filled the air with amber illumination.
Arthur's and Percival's faces lit up in the light, smudged with mud and grime but otherwise apparently whole. Lancelot raised the torch above their heads toward the dark hole they'd fallen through. The light didn't penetrate far. Whether they'd fallen too far or the shaft had caved in behind them, there was no sign of the surface.
Percival stood up and stretched his arms up to the sides, trying to find purchase. His fingers kept slipping though and after a few tries, he dropped his hands to his sides. "I don't think we're getting back up that way."
No, Lancelot didn't think so either. He swept the torch in a circle to survey their location. Rock walls hemmed them in on two sides, while ahead and behind stretched into darkness.
"Well," he said, "it appears we have but two choices."
Arthur looked up and down the tunnel, mouth pursed in consideration. After a few moments, he picked a direction. "Let's go."
Lancelot cast one last look at the gaping maw of darkness that had dropped them in here. He could just imagine how worried everyone else would be up top—and he hoped they were alright. He then set off with the others in search of a way out.
.o.0.o.
Merlin watched in horror as Arthur, Lancelot, and Percival disappeared into the sinkhole that had opened up underneath them. More of the ground continued to crack and give way. The horses whinnied and scattered. The earth shifted beneath Merlin, but Gwaine hooked an arm around his waist and dragged him backward before he could tumble after the others. After a few more moments, everything settled, leaving the woods eerily silent and a gaping depression where three of their friends had been standing.
Merlin started forward, scrambling to the edge and peering inside. "Arthur!"
"Percival! Lancelot!" Elyan yelled as the rest of the knights cautiously approached the edge.
Merlin's heart seized. The hole was deep, and the very bottom was completely caved in. "Arthur!" He swung his leg over the side and tried to find purchase to climb down, but Gwaine and Leon grabbed his arms and hauled him back.
"Merlin!" Leon snapped.
"We have to dig them out!"
The knights exchanged grim looks, and Merlin shoved away from Gwaine.
"They could still be alive. We have to try!" Deep down, he knew Arthur had to still be alive, because they were two sides of the same coin and Merlin would feel it if Arthur was gone. Wouldn't he?
Leon gave a staunch nod. "We need rope and the horses. And any large, firm branches for braces." He clasped Merlin's shoulder. "We're going to have to be very careful."
Merlin nodded. Right, of course. They wouldn't do Arthur, Lancelot, and Percival any good if they got themselves caught in a mudslide trying to dig them out. So even though he wanted to throw every ounce of his magic at the earth packed in at the bottom of the sinkhole, he forced himself to turn away and go collect the horses for the task ahead.
.o.0.o.
Lancelot had wanted to get out of the drizzly weather, but trudging through an underground tunnel was not what he'd had in mind. The further they walked, the more he wondered just how far they'd end up from the others—and how they'd then find their way back.
He slowed his pace as markings on the rock wall caught his eye. Moving closer, he realized someone had been down here at one point. They were cave drawings, somewhat crude, but the images of bodies rent limb from limb and rust-colored blood flying every direction were pretty obvious.
Arthur and Percival were forced to stop when the torch Lancelot was carrying didn't continue to light the way.
"What is it?" Arthur asked.
Lancelot shifted the torchlight down the wall, illuminating more paintings. There was one with a figure flailing on the ground, being dragged away by a two-legged beast with the torso of a man and the head of a bull.
"That's…colorful," Percival commented.
"People have been down here before," Lancelot replied. "So there must be a way out."
But why paint these images on the cave walls? It was certainly…foreboding.
"We should keep moving," Arthur said.
They resumed their trek through the darkness until they came across a juncture in the passage.
"Which way?" Percival queried.
Lancelot swung the torch both directions, but the firelight couldn't penetrate very far into the Stygian blackness.
"This way," Arthur declared, turning left.
A short while later, they came upon another juncture, and Arthur went right. More and more forking passages opened up ahead of them, and each time Arthur alternated which direction they turned. Lancelot understood the theory behind it—if they kept making lefts, they could just end up completing a circuit. Yet after traveling for what had to be over an hour at least, they still hadn't come across an exit.
"Maybe we went the wrong direction at the first turn," Percival suggested.
"What's the point of a bunch of tunnels if they don't lead anywhere?" Arthur grumbled and pressed on doggedly. Lancelot and Percival followed.
After several more minutes, Lancelot pulled up short and swept the torch toward some more cave drawings. Or…not more, the same ones.
"We've already come down this way," he said.
Arthur came to look at the paintings. "No, that's impossible. These are just replicas of the ones we saw before."
Lancelot wasn't so sure, but it wouldn't do them any good to argue the point. They needed to find a way out of here.
A deep, beastly roar suddenly echoed from somewhere deep within the underground tunnels, freezing them all on the spot. Then it fell silent.
"You don't think…?" Percival started, gaze shifting to the cave drawing of the beast.
Lancelot didn't know what to think.
"Let's keep moving," Arthur said, though he unsheathed his sword as a precaution.
Lancelot and Percival did the same, and then they resumed their path down the passage. At the next juncture, Arthur pursed his mouth in consternation, then chose to turn right. But after only a few minutes down that way, they came across tracks in the dirt.
"They're our own," Percival declared.
Indeed, there were three sets of boot prints. They were going in circles.
Another roar reverberated down the tunnels, closer this time. They quickened their pace, moving through the passages with no idea which way they needed to turn. Lancelot was losing track of the turns they'd already made.
They rounded a corner, only to lurch to a stop as they found the tunnel blocked by a hulking, hideous beast. Its bulk nearly filled the width of the shaft, standing on two legs with a brawny, hairy chest and arms. The head was that of a bull with two massive horns curving down the length of its jaw and jutting past its face. It let out a belting roar and charged.
Arthur leaped forward, swinging his sword. The beast threw an arm up and caught the King's forearm, then flung him against the cave wall. Lancelot and Percival surged forward with their blades. The beast swung its head, smashing against Percival's side and knocking him aside. Lancelot managed to score a gash at its hirsute arm. The thing bellowed and swung its head back his direction, ramming straight into him. The impact slammed him back against the wall, punching the air from his lungs, just as one of the horns pierced his mail and punctured between his lower ribs. All the breath stole from his lungs in the shock of agony that ripped through him. Then the beast jerked its head up, lifting Lancelot off the ground and tossing him up and over its shoulder like a rag doll. The horn slid free in the process, and Lancelot landed on his back on the ground, his entire chest seizing.
Stars sparked across his vision, but he saw Arthur scramble toward the fallen torch and snatch it up, waving it at the beast's face. The creature roared and took a swipe at him. Arthur ducked and thrust the flames at its face again, slashing with his sword at the same time. His blade must have made contact, because the beast howled and then turned and fled into the darkness.
Lancelot's chest hitched, unable to draw in oxygen. Arthur rushed to his side and dropped down next to him, eyes wide.
"Percival!" he shouted.
Percival appeared above Lancelot a second later. Lancelot heard their frantic voices calling his name, but they grew muffled as darkness crept in and finally swallowed him whole.
.o.0.o.
Merlin and the knights had been at the hole for hours, putting in makeshift wooden braces, using the horses to haul out heavy chunks of mud, shoveling with their bare hands at times. And they still hadn't found Arthur, Lancelot, and Percival, nor even a pocket of air or cavity that would suggest they might have been shielded in the collapse. Merlin was fighting not to lose hope, even as he saw it dying in everyone else's eyes.
The light was waning, too.
"Alright," Leon finally said. "That's enough."
Merlin looked up at him in horror. "We can't stop."
Leon's expression was grim. "We do not have the tools or manpower to continue this overnight. We must return to Camelot for reinforcements."
"That will take too long," Merlin protested.
"Merlin," Gwaine put in softly. "It's been too long. It's…it's not a rescue anymore; it's a retrieval."
Merlin whipped his gaze around at each of them, seeing the devastating resignation on their faces. And his heart shattered.
"Unyoke the horses," Leon said solemnly.
Merlin looked back at the sinkhole. This couldn't be how it all ended, it just couldn't.
.o.0.o.
Arthur's own heart nearly gave out when Lancelot's choking convulsions cut off and he went limp. Percival reached out to cup Lancelot's neck, holding his fingers just under the jawline for several long moments. Then he shifted his palm to hover over Lancelot's parted lips.
Percival lifted his gaze to Arthur's. "He still lives."
Arthur needed no further prompting and yanked off his cloak, bunching it up and pressing it to the puncture wound in Lancelot's chest that was spilling blood out over the mail shirt. They did not have time to remove his armor to get a better look at the injury. Arthur didn't know what that creature of magic was, but apparently those cave drawings weren't fanciful in nature. They needed to find a way out of this wretched place before that thing came back.
"Hold him up," Arthur instructed, pulling his cloak back and shaking it out so he could then fold it.
He belatedly realized it was mud splattered and not fit for a bandage, but it was all they had. He tried to find a section that was mostly clean and folded that directly over the wound. Then, as Percival propped Lancelot up, Arthur wrapped the rest of the cloak around his torso and knotted the ends as tightly as he could. Lancelot didn't stir or make a sound, and Arthur knew the gravity of this kind of injury. If they did not find a way out of this place soon, Lancelot would die down here.
Percival lifted Lancelot into his arms, leaving Arthur to take the torch and the lead. He retrieved Lancelot's sword and placed it in his own sheath; his blade he'd keep in his hand ready to defend them. Thusly armed, he took a deep breath and set off down the tunnel, Percival following close behind.
But they were still faced with the same problem of going in circles. Arthur tried to make sure they didn't make any circuitous turns, and yet they still stumbled upon a blood trail not ten minutes later. Lancelot's blood. Arthur struck his sword against the rock wall in a burst of frustration. Damn it! Why couldn't he figure this out?
Lancelot moaned and Percival immediately lowered him to the ground.
Arthur took a breath to collect himself, then went over to see how he was.
Lancelot wasn't fully conscious yet, his face pinching in obvious pain.
Percival called his name gently, coaxing him to waking.
A hitched breath brought Lancelot's eyes open, and panic flashed through them a mere second afterward.
"Easy," Arthur said. "Don't move, just breathe."
Lancelot flicked his gaze to him, focusing on his face as he fought to get his breaths under control. A cough made him scrunch his face up in agony.
"Here," Arthur said, setting his sword down and reaching for his waterskin. Percival lifted Lancelot's head up enough so he could swallow as Arthur dribbled some water into his mouth.
"Th-anks," he said, a raspy quality to his voice. "Th- creature?"
"Still out there somewhere," Arthur replied. "We're safe for the moment. How do you feel?"
Lancelot didn't answer for a moment. "Hurts to- breathe," he admitted reluctantly.
Arthur and Percival exchanged a grim look at that. He was breathing, though, that was the important part.
"We'll find a way out of here," Arthur promised.
Lancelot's sober expression was far too knowing as he gazed up at him. "You should- go on…without me," he wheezed.
Arthur's gaze hardened. "Absolutely not."
"I'm only…slowing you down," Lancelot pointed out, his voice beginning to fail him.
"We're going in circles as it is," Arthur rejoined. "And not very quickly. You're hardly delaying us."
Lancelot glanced down at his chest and grimaced. "It doesn't…look good- to me."
"You're not a trained physician," Arthur countered authoritatively. "I'll let Gaius be the judge of that."
He stood up then, putting an end to this argument, which he would not hear any more of. There was yet another juncture up ahead, and Arthur had no idea which way to turn. Had they already passed this way once?
He clenched his jaw and turned back to Lancelot. "Are you ready?"
Lancelot nodded, and Percival slipped his arms beneath Lancelot's shoulders and legs, lifting him up again. Now that he was conscious, he choked on a pained sound at the movement. Arthur regretted the necessity of it, but they had no choice but to keep moving.
.o.0.o.
Twilight fell, forcing Merlin and the remaining knights to halt their horses and forage through the chaparral for some wood to make torches with so they could continue onward without risking the horses on the unfamiliar terrain. Merlin found a few spindly sticks but needed something a bit thicker if it was going to hold up for the rest of the return journey. He shivered; the mud coating his back had yet to fully dry, and it remained a heavy, cold unguent seeping through his shirt.
The shadows were growing long, so he didn't notice the cave until he'd walked right up to it. Merlin blinked dubiously at it for a moment, as it was a somewhat strange formation, set into a mound of earth rather than a mountain. There were markings etched all around a stone arch embedded along the opening. After studying them for several moments, Merlin recognized the symbols as belonging to the Old Religion. His eyes widened when he realized what they meant.
"Over here!" he yelled.
The knights barreled through the underbrush toward him, hands on their sword hilts.
"What is it?" Leon asked in alarm.
Merlin gestured fervently at the cave. "These symbols tell of a labyrinth built deep underground, and this is the entrance!"
The knights exchanged befuddled looks.
"Don't you see?" Merlin pressed. "A labyrinth is a massive maze of tunnels. The sinkhole that opened up probably dumped Arthur and the others into it!"
"Merlin, mate," Gwaine said. "That's grasping at straws."
"But remember how far we dug and we didn't find the bodies. The sinkhole must go deeper, into here." He flung his arm again at the cave entrance.
"Why would anyone build such a place?" Elyan asked.
"Uh, well, according to this, it was to imprison a…" Merlin peered closer at the markings. "Minotaur."
"Minotaur?" Leon repeated. "How do you even know what that says?"
Merlin faltered for a split second before replying, "I read a lot. Look, shouldn't we at least try?" he urged before they could give more skeptical thought to his literacy of obscure runes.
"Even if you're right," Elyan put in, "if it's a maze, how are we supposed to find them? Or a way back out?"
Merlin hesitated. That was a good point. He could use his magic, but not in front of them. "You all go back to Camelot for reinforcements as planned," he said. "I'll take a look around here."
"That's ridiculous, Merlin," Leon scoffed.
He gave them a pleading look. "I have to try."
Leon shook his head in exasperation.
"I'll go with him," Gwaine said soberly.
"You're both mad," Leon protested. "You're risking your lives on a less than slim chance Merlin is even right about the sinkhole."
Gwaine shrugged. "It's either this slim chance or you return to the sinkhole and dig up their bodies."
Leon was clearly unhappy, but the last of twilight was waning and they were wasting time. "Fine," he conceded. "Elyan and I will return to Camelot." He thrust the branch he had in hand at Merlin. "You know we can't come search for you until we find Arthur."
Arthur's body was what he meant.
Merlin nodded as Gwaine picked up his own branch and wound a kerchief around the end. Elyan stepped forward with his flint and lit both torches for them, then he and Leon headed back to their horses.
Gwaine turned to Merlin. "After you."
"Knights first," he replied with a cheeky quarter grin.
Gwaine rolled his eyes but ventured into the cave. Merlin followed right behind him. The path immediately took a steep descent, lending credence to Merlin's belief about the tunnels. When they reached the bottom, the shaft split into two opposite directions. Gwaine cast a skeptical look at Merlin before picking a direction and setting off.
Merlin waited a moment, whispering a spell under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder and saw his footsteps behind him glittering for only him to see. With a way to retrace their way back out, he took a deep breath and plunged into the unknown.
.o.0.o.
Percival trudged along behind Arthur, Lancelot heavy and limp in his arms. He strained his ears for sounds of that beast, but all he could hear was the clink of Arthur's armor as he walked and Lancelot's breaths wheezing past bloodless lips. Percival's back and shoulders were aching, and he attempted to adjust his hold without jostling his friend too badly. Lancelot made a soft sound of pain but he had long since slipped back into unconsciousness.
Percival silently apologized as he shifted his grip. He felt dampness against his hand and immediately pulled up short. "Arthur!" he called as he swiftly knelt down and carefully laid Lancelot on the ground.
Arthur turned back with the torch as Percival prodded at the King's cloak wrapped around Lancelot's chest. It wasn't visible because of the color, but it was damp with fresh blood. A red smear came away on Percival's fingers.
"His wound is bleeding again," Percival said urgently as he then pressed the back of his hand to Lancelot's face. He was ashen and cold to the touch.
Arthur knelt down and jammed the torch into a cleft in the rock wall, then reached to undo the sodden cloak. Lancelot's mail underneath glistened crimson in the firelight. Arthur let out a low curse, his expression turning grim.
Percival tensed. He didn't think Arthur would decide to leave Lancelot behind, but if he did, that was one order Percival would have to refuse his King. He'd only come to Camelot because of Lancelot, had fought by his side for a kingdom he didn't know or have allegiance to out of that friendship and loyalty. And Percival would not leave him now.
But Arthur didn't suggest the unspeakable, just folded his cloak over to press a dry section over the wound and tied the ends tighter about Lancelot's chest, earning an arched cry from the unconscious knight.
Arthur placed a hand on Lancelot's forehead and bent low. "Hold on," he said quietly.
Percival was about to pick him up again when he heard a soft snort. Snapping his gaze over Arthur's shoulder, his eyes widened and he leaped to his feet and drew his sword. Arthur surged upright as well and spun around.
The beast stood in the middle of the tunnel directly ahead of them, eyes blazing red-orange. It held a large battle axe in its hairy hands.
Arthur grabbed the torch again and stood side by side with Percival, Lancelot behind them.
The beast stomped a cloven hoof, bellowed out a roar, and charged.
Percival and Arthur brandished their swords and threw themselves forward to meet it head on.
.o.0.o.
Merlin might have taken care of finding their way back out of the labyrinth, but navigating their way in was proving to be a challenge. There were just too many turns, and if they started criss-crossing the trail Merlin had magically left, then they were in big trouble.
Gwaine pulled up short and crouched down to look at something.
"What is it?" Merlin asked, hurrying over to see.
"Blood. Not that old."
Merlin's chest tightened.
"We can't know if it even belongs to one of them," Gwaine pointed out.
"You think another poor soul is lost down here?" Merlin countered as he stood up again. "We might as well follow it."
Gwaine shrugged and they turned down the tunnel the blood trail headed. Merlin grew worried the more they followed it; who was injured and how badly for it to be bleeding so much?
"Got some footprints," Gwaine announced, lowering his torch toward the dirt. "Looks like three."
"See? It is them."
"I hope you're right, Merlin."
An animalistic roar echoed down the tunnel, halting them in their tracks.
Gwaine turned to Merlin. "Minotaur, was it? And what exactly is that?"
"Uh, half human, half bull kind of thing, if I remember right."
The distant clang of steel followed. Merlin and Gwaine exchanged a quick look before hurrying down the passage toward it. Around the next bend, they came upon Arthur and Percival fighting a monstrous beast wielding an axe. Merlin pulled up short but Gwaine leaped in from behind and stabbed the minotaur between the shoulder blades.
It arched its back with a bellow and spun around. Gwaine jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting swiped by the axe. Arthur and Percival used the moment to lunge forward and stab their blades into its chest. The minotaur stumbled backward, still standing despite the three swords sticking out of it.
Arthur pulled a second blade from his scabbard and charged, aiming for the center of the beast's sternum. The blade went all the way through, the tip punching out the other side. The minotaur bleated, staggered back again, and then finally collapsed with a heavy thud.
Arthur stared at it for a long moment before flicking a bewildered gaze at Gwaine and Merlin. "What are you doing here?" he blurted.
"Following straws," Gwaine replied, stepping forward and clasping Arthur's forearm with a grin.
Merlin broke into a beaming smile as well. He knew it; he knew Arthur wasn't dead.
Arthur smiled back in relief, but then his expression quickly sobered and he and Percival turned to rush back to a supine figure on the ground. Merlin's joy crumbled in an instant and he darted after them, dropping down next to Lancelot's still form. Arthur's cloak was tied around his chest, and the blood trail flashed through Merlin's mind.
"He was gored by the beast," Percival said. "We've had trouble stopping the bleeding."
Merlin had been picking at the edge of the makeshift bandage but now he stopped. He wouldn't dare touch it, then. Placing the back of his hand against Lancelot's brow, his heart dropped at the clammy chill he felt.
"We have to get him out of here," he said urgently.
"We've been trying," Arthur said tightly. "This place is like a maze."
"Labyrinth," Merlin corrected. "Don't worry, I can find the way out."
"How?" Arthur asked dubiously.
"I remember the way," Merlin insisted. "We came in through the front entrance, unlike you." He shot Arthur an impatient glare. They really did need to get moving.
Percival stood up and walked back over to the minotaur. So did the others, the three of them pausing over the creature's body before reaching to pull their swords out.
"It is dead, right?" Gwaine questioned.
Merlin took the brief moment of privacy to press his hand against Lancelot's chest and whisper a fortifying spell. He poured all his concentration and effort into it as hard and quickly as he could. He didn't have the time to try for an actual healing spell, which he didn't have the hang of anyway, but hoped this was enough to hold Lancelot over until they could get him proper help.
The others had retrieved their swords and Percival came back to lift Lancelot into his arms. Merlin darted ahead of them back down the tunnel and uttered the tracking spell under his breath. His footsteps glittered blue in the darkness.
Merlin turned back toward the others. "Hurry."
"Where are Leon and Elyan?" Arthur asked as they made their way down the tunnel.
"They returned to Camelot for help…er, digging out your bodies," Gwaine answered. "When Merlin found the entrance to this labyrinth, he believed you might have survived by falling into it and insisted on coming in to search for you."
"Acting without thinking again, Merlin?" Arthur quipped, but then his voice softened. "It's good you did."
Indeed.
Merlin kept up a rigid pace leading them out, his fear for Lancelot's life driving his urgency. Fortunately, everyone else also seemed too preoccupied with such fear to further question Merlin's ability to lead them out, and finally they reached the sloping inclination up to the surface.
The dark of night was just as encompassing as that of the underground labyrinth, and it took several minutes for Merlin and Gwaine to track down where their horses had been tethered. Merlin then took the time to check Lancelot's wound and bind it again with fresh bandages for the ride back to Camelot. Percival took him on his horse, and so Merlin didn't have another opportunity to cast a covert spell to keep Lancelot breathing. He could only hope and pray his friend made it as they all mounted up and turned toward Camelot.
.o.0.o.
Though it was long past midnight when they rode through the gates of the castle, the place was bustling with activity—knights and servants hurrying to and fro as carts and supplies were gathered, presumably to set off at first light to exhume Arthur's and his knight's bodies from being buried in that sinkhole. Arthur was happy to disappoint them.
"Your Majesty!" Leon exclaimed when he saw them riding through the courtyard. "You're alive!"
He and Elyan rushed forward, expressions stunned and relieved.
"Merlin was right," Elyan said with a beaming smile.
Arthur nodded as he dismounted. "Wake Gaius. Lancelot is in dire need."
That sobered their joyous expressions, and Elyan quickly turned to run off.
Leon flicked his gaze past Arthur toward where Merlin and Gwaine were helping lower Lancelot from Percival's horse. "Forgive me, Sire," he said, turning back to Arthur and bowing his head low. "I should have stayed with Merlin. Or sent someone to scout the area rather than focusing on just the sinkhole."
Arthur reached out to clasp Leon's shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said earnestly. "There was no way you could have known about the tunnels underneath, or that Merlin would be right about them."
Leon ducked his gaze in acceptance.
Arthur broke away from him as Lancelot was carried past on a stretcher and strode after his wounded friend toward Gaius's chambers. Once there, Gaius immediately ordered they lay Lancelot on the cot in the middle of the room, then commanded the knights to move back and give him room. Arthur stayed in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and fist pressed against his chin as he watched Gaius's urgent but practiced movements as he began tending his patient. Merlin assisted, and together they worked through a thorough cleaning of the wound, sewing it closed, and fighting to keep Lancelot warm throughout the torturous ministrations. Lancelot's faint but pained moans at least proved he yet lived. And by the time Gaius was done, the knight still breathed, however shallow and whistling it sounded.
"Will he make it?" Arthur asked once Gaius had eased back from his patient, his work evidently done for now.
"There was damage to the lung," the old physician replied. "Only time will tell, Sire."
Arthur nodded gravely.
Percival moved forward, taking a perch on the stool next to the cot and folding his arms over his legs in a clear posture that said he would not be moved from that spot for a while.
Arthur had duties to attend to, people to reassure of his survival, plans for a rescue to dissolve and people to send back to bed. But the moment he was free and cleaned up, he planned to return and also sit vigil next to his knight.
.o.0.o.
Lancelot felt awareness shifting around him like the ebb and flow of a tide. Grogginess prodded at him, followed by pain. He floated in between for a while before his eyelids managed to flutter open, and then he blinked in confusion because he seemed to be in Gaius's chambers, but the last thing he clearly remembered was the underground tunnels and being lost and hunted by that magical creature.
He lifted his head to get a better look around, only to regret it as dizziness crashed over him.
"Easy, my boy," Gaius's weathered voice sounded softly from above. "You were very near death not that long ago. Best take things slow."
"Gaius?" he rasped.
The court physician smiled down at him, then slipped a hand behind his head to lift it slightly as his other brought a cup to his lips. Lancelot tried to drink greedily, his mouth and throat parched, but Gaius only let a small bit at a time dribble into his mouth.
"Give that a moment to settle and then we'll try more," Gaius said. "And some broth if you're up for it. You lost quite a bit of blood."
"I'm surprised to be here," he admitted as Gaius lowered his head back against the pillow. "Merlin?" He couldn't imagine anyone else would have saved them from…whatever and wherever they were.
Gaius stood up and moved away, only for a smiling Merlin to take his place.
"I found the entrance to the labyrinth," he said. "That was where you were, if you hadn't figured it out. Gwaine and I came in after you; he, Arthur, and Percival killed the minotaur; and then we all got out of there."
"I missed a lot," Lancelot commented.
Merlin's expression faltered. "It was close."
Lancelot was aware of the throbbing in his chest and tightness when he breathed, though it wasn't as strenuous as before. "And everyone else is all right?"
"Arthur and Percival are a little banged up, but they're fine. They've been taking turns sitting vigil here. Percival is actually asleep in my bed at the moment. Gaius and I finally convinced him to get some rest when Gaius declared you were past the worst of it."
"Mm," Lancelot murmured, eyelids drooping. He was feeling sleepy again himself.
"Can you take some broth before you sleep again?" Merlin asked persistently. "You need to replenish your fluids."
He made an incoherent sound that was meant to be agreement. Merlin picked up a cup and raised Lancelot's head enough for him to drink the hearty broth contained within. It felt almost scorching compared to the chill he hadn't realized had settled firmly throughout his body.
The door creaked open and a moment later, Arthur entered Lancelot's field of vision.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," Arthur said.
"It won't be for much longer," Merlin quipped as he eased Lancelot's head back down.
Indeed, his eyelids were growing heavy like lead despite his desire to stay awake for his king. He managed to open them enough to see Arthur come over and bend down to lay a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. Arthur wasn't one given to sentimental words, but Lancelot could read the unspoken emotions there. He gave his friend a nod in return as he drifted off.