They didn't stop to check on the bodies, but Merlin noted that the woman was missing. He didn't stop to look for her though. He had Arthur to take care of now, and frankly, throwing Gwen into a wall once had probably worked its way into his nightmares already. Merlin told himself not to fret over that, though; nightmares were nothing new. The only thing unexpected was what was in them.

But he had a feeling that he knew what they would be about for now. He'd nearly vomited when he'd seen Arthur's injuries.

It took too long to get back up the stairs and to the door, and Merlin was antsy with worry the entire time, but at least they didn't come across any opposition. Merlin was fairly certain he wouldn't have been able to control himself and would have just blown up half of the house if anyone had tried to cross him right now. Gwaine stayed behind him but nearby, perhaps sensing that Merlin didn't need anyone in his way… Or perhaps he was just slowed down by the king, who was a good deal heavier than a sword or a tankard of mead.

"How is he?" Merlin asked as they made it to the door finally.

"Breathing," answered Gwaine. "This can't be good for his arm, but he's still asleep."

Merlin cast his king one worried look – Arthur looked like death itself. Actually, that wasn't true. Merlin had seen corpses before, and he had to say that Arthur looked a good deal worse than many of them. His face a pasty, like paper that had soaked in water and then dried, and it scared Merlin.

He turned back around and pushed on through the door. He didn't bother worrying about any kind of censors. Any person who was in the section of the Mortdestin was probably dead downstairs, and if they weren't, Merlin would gladly welcome the chance to have a go at them.

They made their way into the woods – the tied up Mortdestin members were probably awake and most likely cold, and Merlin thought that he'd like a chance to send them where they'd never be cold again. But… Arthur. Besides, this newfound bloodlust was scaring him.

Don't do something you'll regret, Gaius would tell him. The scary part, though, was that he wasn't sure he'd regret it. So he avoided the men.

By the time they reached the horses, Merlin had cooled down about a degree, but it was better than nothing.

Then they had a new problem.

"If we had three horses, we could lean him over like we did for you after the Dorocha," Gwaine observed, leaning against a tree to catch his breath.

"With that arm?" Merlin answered, looking at the two horses. "He needs to be held up until we can find someplace to take care of him."

"He can ride with me," Gwaine said. "And we can go to the farm where I borrowed the horses. It's only a few hours away."

"That's quite a way."

"There's nothing closer," Gwaine said. He couldn't carry Arthur any longer, so he let the king's feet rest on the floor and leaned Arthur's uninjured side against himself. "But if we didn't take the road… If we cut through the trees…"

"How much time could we cut off?"

"I'm not sure," Gwaine grunted, flipping his hair. "If we don't get lost? Maybe hours."

Merlin looked at Arthur. His head was leaning against Gwaine's shoulder and his neck was exposed. "We won't get lost," he said. "Help me get him up on the horse."

Together, they managed to situate Arthur, and then Gwaine held him in place until Merlin mounted up onto the bareback animal. "You'll have to do most of the leading," Merlin told Gwaine. "I won't be able to see around him." Merlin put his arms around Arthur's middle and kept him firmly in place, but took care not to jar his arm. Arthur's unconscious face had a crease of pain on it, but Merlin could not do anything about it. If he could do so without falling off the horse, he would try and work on some sort of spell of healing.

"Don't worry," Gwaine said, walking over to his own horse and throwing a leg over it.

A relatively short time later, they were approaching a run down little shack with a sagging roof. It was dilapidated, but that worked for Merlin fine; he'd seen enough big rooms, and somehow smaller ones always seemed safer. And he liked the idea of safety about now.

"Hello!" Gwaine called when the place was still in the distance. "Hello!" No one came out to greet them, and the knight's brow puckered. "There's no cart there. There was one last time," Gwaine said to Merlin.

As they got closer, Gwaine said in dismay, "No one's here."

Merlin was past being disappointed by something like that. When they were close enough, he slid off the horse. "Get Arthur into the house," he said. "I'll look for some well or pump. We need water. If there's a bed inside, put him on it. Usually," he said with a half-smile, "we'd ask, but as the man seems to have left…"

Gwaine used both hands to carefully lift Arthur down from the horse and winced when the king crashed into his chest. "I think he has a fever. I can feel the heat through his clothes."

Merlin looked tired. "I know," he said. "I couldn't think of anything to do about it. Just get him inside before he wakes up."

Gwaine nodded and half-dragged, half-carried to king off. Merlin walked around the house, keeping an eye out, and eventually he found what he wanted—a well at the back. He quickly drew up some water – two buckets worth, because he found those too – and brought them back to the house.

Inside was a little sturdier looking than the outside, and there was one window cut into the wall. There was a raggedy cot similar to the one Merlin slept on back in Camelot and Arthur was lying on it, his uninjured arm next to him. His pasty face now had red spots on it.

"He's definitely feverish," Gwaine said. "I wish we had Gaius."

Merlin nodded. "Between the arm and the burns, it's not a surprise. Do you see any cloths—ah. Here." He dunked the cloth into one of the buckets and handed it to Gwaine. "Put it on his head for now. We'll wash the fever out if we can, and try to get him to drink something."

Gwaine did so, then took the next cloth handed over. There were several strips on the table in the corner, but Merlin thought that if they needed more than those three, they could start ripping up something or use his neckerchief. "And pull that blanket over him, he's probably cold."

"We're getting him wet and making him warm?" Gwaine put this one on Arthur's throat.

"Something like that."

"Merlin," said Gwaine, looking at him seriously. "While you were gone, I got a look at that arm. It looks pretty bad."

Merlin nodded. "I know. His sword arm, too."

Gwaine licked his lips. "I'm not a physician, but I've seen injuries. I don't think he's going to be able to use it again."

Merlin looked down at the buckets, then set about looking for a cup. They might get Arthur to drink something. "That's where you're wrong," he said. "You're forgetting something."

"What?" Gwaine was surprised.

"I have magic." Merlin swallowed. "Sure, I'm not too good at healing—but it's for a good cause. I'll do what I can."

Gwaine looked towards Arthur, who was beginning to turn a bit and twitch. "What about when he awakens and realizes that his previously horribly broken arm is healthy?"

"I'll lie," Merlin said, finding the cup. "I'm good at that."

And that was the end of the conversation.