The Healing: Merlin

The darkness no longer burned. He was thankful the agony was at bay, but he knew the injury remained, even in his deepest sleep. He could feel his weakness and exhaustion, the evil doubt that sang at the bottom of his pain. He could hear Arthur's voice among the other murmurings around him ,but he couldn't muster the strength to turn his head.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was close by, his tone subdued, almost careful. "Merlin, Alice needs us to move you to a protective circle, so she can heal you."

Merlin tried to open his eyes as he roused but he couldn't. Arthur was talking about magic; it was disconcerting. It would have been funny if it wasn't so bizarre. He felt Arthur's hand resting on top of his, the king's fingers curved into his palm and he tried to squeeze Arthur's hand but his fingers only twitched.

"Merlin, can you hear me?" His tone was hopeful. Just as when he had been lost in the dark, he tried again to tighten his fingers but he could not. Arthur was talking to Gaius again; he was pleading.

"No, Gaius! Please." Arthur's voice sank as he paused, and he added softly. "Must we move him? The pain will be excruciating... I can't..."

"If there were another way...", came the physician's voice. Merlin wanted to weep at the deep sadness in his mentor's voice. "This is dangerous magic, Arthur and there is not enough room for the circle here. There will be powerful forces at work. While we attempt the healing, it might be best if you left." But Arthur continued as if he had not heard the old man's words.

"Please Gaius, don't move him. The pain alone will kill him and you can see he's barely hanging one. I can't..." He heard tears in Arthur's voice.

"You must leave then," said Gaius stiffly, and there was a long pause. Merlin could only imagine their faces. "We will will move him as carefully as we can," said Gaius at last, in a comforting tone. Merlin tried to squeeze Arthur's hand again, as best he could, but he sensed, more than felt, when his hand drifted from Arthur's grasp.

As they began to lift him, hands gently reaching below him, the burning began again, first in his hand, and then spreading to his shoulder and his chest. He heard himself groan, and then they were lifting him from the bed. With the first swaying lurch, Merlin felt the flames explode from his chest again, the pain leaving him breathless. Desperate to escape, he tried to get away but his legs only circled helplessly. He shook and jerked uncontrollably as the torture consumed him and he pleaded. He screamed desperately for Arthur, for Gaius, for his mother, but there was only the maelstrom of fire within. He gasped for air, but only flames invaded him. The fire was pouring through him now and he screamed again. Raw fire surged through his chest, searing his throat, where it met the smallest trickle of cooling icy liquid. He took it in greedily. He struggled to open his eyes, his face was wet with reflexive tears.

Gaius laid a tender hand on the forehead of his ward. Merlin wanted to say so many things, as he looked up at his beloved mentor but he knew what his screams had cost Gaius. It was written in the indelible shadow he saw in his wise eyes. But Arthur. His friends eyes were a dark mirror of his own suffering and he shuddered at what he saw in their blue depths.

"Sorry", he whispered, but he wasn't sure anyone heard him. Candles were being lit, sweet smoke floated through the air and Merlin began to loose control of his attention as the icy liquid calmed his pain further. Gaius was talking to Arthur, urging him to get up and leave, so the healing ritual could begin. Arthur was refusing, ignoring Alice's soft requests and Gaius' terse demands. The world was getting fuzzy and vague. He struggled to make words. He wanted to beg Arthur to stay with him, but hazily understood that he didn't really need to say a thing. The king hadn't moved.

"Hold fast, old friend, " said Arthur firmly. He took the warlock's hand as more icy liquid was poured into his mouth. The king's eyes were steady and commanding, but Merlin felt himself slipping away again. He tried to reach out to Arthur, suddenly more frightened than he could admit. He struggled to talk, but the king would have none of it. "Shut up," whispered Arthur, in his ear. He realized it didn't matter. Arthur was beside him and strength flooded from his steady presence. "Hold fast," he said again.

His mind spiraled, whirling into the nothingness of the abyss. A coolness was seeping into the fire within him, a feeling like bubbling water washing away the dark fire. It was like music that tasted of home. It was a song that flared in colors across his awareness. His hand felt the relief first. Then his arm.

Merlin felt a sudden crushing weight on his chest and a stabbing pain. He was being clawed by a dragon. He struggled against the weight of the gigantic creature, not willing to give up, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He flailed hopelessly against the brutal crushing terror. He knew suddenly that he was dying. The pain coalesced in his chest, breaking him into hopeless tortured pieces. The dragon roared as it's diamond sharp claw pierced him to his backbone, shooting him into an ancient darkness. The roar surrounded him, the flood of reverberation pushing him forward to the darkness to some unknown end. He was lost in the immensity of the oceanic abyss. Universes winked out and then fluttered into existence, but he did not. He remained.

Lancelot was sitting across from him in the charcoaler's hut, a small smile haunted his lips and there was a familiar sparkle in his eye. There was a merry fire in the brazier and the room glowed with a cozy warmth.

"Hello Merlin."

"Am I dead, Lancelot?"

"I don't really know," he answered slowly. "What happened?"

"Morgana almost killed Arthur, and I stopped her in time,but I couldn't hide my magic this time." His voice sunk to an quiet, almost frightened whisper. "Arthur saw me use magic, Lancelot! He looked right at me, and I could see..." he stopped himself, looking up to the comforting eyes of his friend, before he could go on with his explanation. "He was so angry, so hurt."

"What happened to you?" His tone was quiet and grave, but there was the sound of steel in his voice, and Merlin raced to clarify.

"No, no. It wasn't like that Lancelot. It was Morgana. She unleashed a spell that I defeated once before, but it took me from behind and I got in the way." The knight's subtle smile appeared again.

"Well that explains it. How bad are you hurt?"

"Bad enough. I'm trapped in a spell, Lancelot. I think my heart is failing. My body feels like it's burning and I can hear voices from the dark, telling me things, terrible things. Every time any one touches me, the fire inside roars up and the voices start. All the things I never want to hear, all my failings..." The boy pulled at his dark hair in desperation. Lancelot laid a calming hand on Merlin's arm as he fought to keep his voice under control. Merlin took a deep breath. "Gaius keeps trying to help and Arthur has sent for a healer. They're trying to heal me now. " Despair edged his voice.

"He sent for a healer?" His voice was incredulous.

The dark haired boy nodded, unable to look at the gentle knight.

"Has he come to see you?"

He nodded. "He hasn't left my side Lancelot. I can hear him talking to me, there in Morgana's hell. If it wasn't for his voice, I would go mad. He sounds..." His voice trailed off. His stormy eyes met the deep eyes of the knight who had always accepted and respected him.

"Then you better listen to what you just said, Merlin, " said Lancelot with a grin. He clapped a hand on the servant's bony shoulder. "I think your secret is out Merlin, and maybe it's not the nightmare you think."

Merlin blinked. Lancelot was growing dim, the whirling darkness was rising again, eating at the edges of his vision. He surrendered and all was stillness again. There was no more pain.