A/N - Chapter 7 is with the betas and chapter 8 is just started so after this post it may be up to a week before the next chapter goes up. I am trying to keep up, but please be aware that I am hosting Easter next weekend so I may get a wee bit behind, but not for long - I promise.
This chapter went through multiple changes and edits to try and make it right. Just a note the symptoms Merlin experiences here came directly from my research of the poison used on the arrow.
Please enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Chapter Six

Merlin knew that something was very wrong besides being shot by an arrow, because the pain in his arm was far worse than he thought it should have been. His very blood felt as though it were boiling. When Arthur asked him if he could stand up and he reached up with his right hand, he couldn't really feel the prince's hand closing around his. He felt the pressure of Arthur's grip, but everything was going numb and that frightened him. Why would his right hand feel numb when his left arm had been shot?

With Arthur's help, he managed to get to his feet, but as with his hands, he didn't really feel his boots touching the ground. He knew what muscles to move in order to walk but he had to concentrate in order to get them to move correctly. With every step he took, he felt as though he was trying to get disembodied limbs to do his bidding, and the feeling was disconcerting. He didn't feel pain in his legs or feet; the problem was he couldn't feel anything, or at least very little. Any sensation he was able to perceive seemed distant, as though in a dream.

Arthur ended up grabbing him around his waist to keep him upright, which he was grateful for, but once again, the sensation of the strong arm around his body supporting its weight felt far-off and transitory. The only acute sensation he could feel was the burning in his left arm as though liquid fire were scorching through his veins. The sensation dulled as it reached the tightly wrapped bandage Arthur had fastened in place but it was beginning to move beyond that and up to his elbow.

The bright morning sun was burning his eyes and he had to squint to filter it out as an insistent thrumming began to pound throughout his skull. After a few more tentative steps he began to lose focus and forgot to pay attention to where his feet were supposed to go. He wanted the sun to hide behind a cloud and the drumming in his head to quiet. He had the feeling that he was supposed to be doing something right now but he couldn't remember what it was. He felt the arm around his middle tighten and then he remembered; he was supposed to be walking. He tried to focus on his feet but the pounding in his head began to synchronize with the throbbing he sensed in his left hand.

He had once again forgotten that he was supposed to be walking, but it didn't really matter anymore since he couldn't feel his feet at all now. He supposed they must still be attached to the bottoms of his legs, since that was where they should have been. Merlin didn't feel his legs buckle underneath him. He was dimly aware that the arm wrapped around his middle grew much tighter, and he supposed there must be a good reason for that. The pounding in his head was becoming all-encompassing and its steady beat marched across his consciousness in time with the throbbing in his hand.

A rasping sound filled Merlin's ears and he wondered what it was. It was hard to concentrate over the voice that kept calling out a name. It seemed to be a very familiar name, but he couldn't quite remember who Merlin was. He was feeling light headed, and wanted to ask the person with him what was going on, but when he attempted to speak the only sound that issued from his mouth was more rasping. It wasn't until that moment that he realized the sound he was hearing was his own breathing. That confused him even further because he was certain that breathing wasn't supposed to sound like that. Merlin wished someone would blow out some of the candles because it was so bright that his eyes were hurting. He wished the throbbing in his hand and head would stop and he wished he could take a deep breath. Most of all he just wished to close his eyes and take a quick nap.

Panic swirled around in Arthur's mind. Merlin had collapsed after only a few staggering steps and wasn't responding when Arthur called his name. They were easily a day and a half's ride from Camelot and Gaius' help. Merlin would never survive that long. His breathing was becoming more and more ragged as the seconds passed by. The poison on the arrow was strong enough to incapacitate a deer, so how much worse would it be for Merlin? His friend was slight of build to begin with. The only saving grace that Arthur could imagine was that the arrow had passed through the deer first, hopefully wiping most of the poison off the arrowhead.

A thought suddenly occurred to Arthur that sent a chill down his spine. He quickly held up his own hand to see if the skin had been broken when he pulled the arrow out of Merlin's arm. If he had been poisoned as well they were both done for. His hand was covered in blood, but upon close inspection, it all appeared to be Merlin's; there was no break in the skin, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

Arthur had to get Merlin to help quickly and he had only one option available to him. He must go back to the clearing in the forest and call for the druid healer. The fact that going to the druids for help was an act of treason didn't cause the young prince to hesitate. It was a simple matter of necessity just as it had been with Inalira. Like her, he had no other choice. He gathered the nearly unconscious young man up in his arms and carried him quickly back to their camp where the horses were tethered.

Arthur had to lie Merlin down on the ground so he could douse the fire and quickly gather up his sleeping roll. Thankfully, Merlin had already packed up his own horse before he wandered down into the meadow. It only took Arthur a few minutes to prepare the horses to leave and in that time, Merlin had begun gasping for breath. Arthur had no idea what to do for him other than to get him to help as quickly as he could. The young man's breathing was so labored at this point that Arthur didn't think draping him over the back of his horse would be a good idea. Coming to a quick decision, Arthur tied the mare to the back of his horse's saddle before hoisting Merlin up into it, and then he climbed up behind the young man and did his best to secure Merlin in front of him.

Merlin may have been a smaller man than Arthur, but the two of them barely fit into the saddle, causing Arthur to feel awkward in his own mount. Ignoring the discomfort, he kicked his horse's flanks and galloped south as fast as was reasonably possible with two riders on one horse and a second horse tied up behind.

They managed a steady gallop all the way back to the clearing with the open fireplace, and it took a little over a half an hour to arrive. As soon as he got there, Arthur jumped down and grabbed Merlin, sliding him down off the horse. He had become very pale and his breathing was now fast and shallow. His hand and forearm had become swollen to twice the normal size and his fingers were turning so dark they were almost black. His brow was hot with fever yet at the same time he was bone dry, not sweating at all.

Knowing there was no time to waste, Arthur piled wood into the fireplace and lit it as quickly as he could, stoking the fire until it was a roaring blaze. He fanned the smoke to get it to waft up and move through the trees more quickly, trying to convey his urgency. Merlin had said that it took the druids almost two hours to show up for Inalira's fire, and he was worried that that would be too long.

He went back to where Merlin lay, feeling utterly helpless as the young man struggled to breathe. He had seemed to breathe a little easier when he was on the horse, so Arthur dragged him over to a nearby stump and propped him up against it, which proved to be utterly useless when Merlin's limp body simply fell over. Arthur ran back to the horses and pulled down both saddlebags and the blanket underneath Merlin's saddle. He wrapped the blanket around the saddle bags and then laid Merlin's upper body on top of them which more securely propped him up and it did seem to help his breathing, if only marginally.

Arthur looked at Merlin's arm again and saw that blood had soaked through the makeshift bandage he had wrapped around the limb, and the tied strip of cloth was extremely tight due to the swelling of Merlin's arm. Arthur was tempted to remove the cloth, but hesitated in doing so. The tight bandage seemed to be keeping much of the poison from traveling up Merlin's arm. The skin above the bandage was not as discolored and was less swollen.

"Hang on, Merlin, help is coming. Just hang on for me." Arthur spoke in what he hoped was a calming voice. He didn't know if Merlin could hear him or not, but it felt better to reassure the young man.

Almost a half an hour had passed after lighting the fire, and Arthur couldn't stand just sitting there doing nothing, so he jumped up and began pacing. He was very concerned that the druids would not come if he were present, but there was no way that he would leave Merlin alone in the middle of the forest.

"Come on! Where are you?" he called out, to the dark woods beyond the clearing.

Merlin began coughing and wheezing drawing Arthur's attention to him. His face was beginning to turn red as he coughed and sputtered. Arthur grabbed the water-skin from his horse and sat next to Merlin holding his head up in his hand. He tried to speak soothing words to the young man as fear grew in his heart. Merlin's gasping became more frantic and Arthur pulled him up into a sitting position trying to help him recover his breath. He knelt and allowed Merlin's back to rest against his body holding him around the chest trying to calm the young man down. It took what felt like a very long time for the coughing and gasping to ease up before Merlin's head dropped back against Arthur's chest.

Even in a semiconscious state Merlin looked utterly exhausted from the ordeal and Arthur shook him gently speaking quietly to him, trying to get him to drink some water. Merlin weakly raised a hand and tried to push the water-skin away, but Arthur gently insisted.

"Come on, Merlin; try to take a sip of water. You need it."

Arthur noticed how dry Merlin's mouth was; his lips were beginning to chap and his tongue seemed thick and sluggish. He gently pried open Merlin's mouth and poured a small amount of water in, noting how the very tissues of his mouth seemed to soak up the moisture instantly. He managed to get three small sips of water into the young man before he turned his head away mumbling incoherently.

Once Merlin's breathing settled back down into a fast shallow pant Arthur slid out from behind him and gently lowered him down onto the saddlebags again. Over an hour had passed and Arthur was getting more and more anxious. He stood up and added another piece of wood to the fire, then approached the forest on the other side of the glade.

"Please! I need your help. My friend has been injured, he's been poisoned. He will die without help. Please, I am begging you to help him!"

The only sound that answered his plea was the rustle of the leaves in the trees as the morning breeze blew through them. Arthur didn't know what he was going to do if the druids refused to help Merlin. If he tried to take him back to Camelot, he would surely die before they got there. Hanging his head, Arthur walked back to the fireplace, where Merlin lay, to sit and wait.

As he drew closer, he could see that Merlin was once again having trouble breathing and this time it was worse than before. Merlin's face had drained of all color and his lips were turning blue. He tried to sit up as he gasped frantically trying to draw in air. Arthur ran the last few feet to get to him and pulled him upright, sliding in behind him again. The young man's eyes flew open and were glassy and panic-stricken. The pupils were completely dilated making them look almost completely black rather than their normally bright blue color.

"Merlin! You have to try to calm down. Just try to breathe, Merlin. Merlin!"

Somewhere in the back of Arthur's mind, he knew that he should remain calm, but watching Merlin literally suffocate before his eyes and being powerless to help was more than he could stand. Suddenly Merlin's body went rigid; his eyes rolled up showing mostly white; his right hand clenched into a fist, his left hand too swollen even to close, and his whole body began to shake spasmodically. Then everything stopped. Merlin's eyes closed, his body went limp, and he stopped breathing altogether.

"Merlin! No, you have to breathe. Merlin!" Arthur shouted, as he laid the young man down.

Arthur stared down at his servant; his friend - the only true friend he could ever remember having. He was unnaturally still. His chest didn't rise and fall; his head rolled off to the side; his body limp as a wet rag.

It was too late; Merlin was dead.

The thought screamed in Arthur's mind, but the young prince couldn't bring himself to believe what his eyes were seeing. A scream ripped from his lips as he took hold of Merlin's shoulders and shook him.

"No! Merlin, you have to breathe. You cannot die! Please, just breathe!"

Hot tears rolled down Arthur's face as he shook Merlin desperately. He never even noticed the tall druid approach until his shadow blocked out the sunlight. When Arthur looked up his expression was a picture of agony as tears of fear and remorse flowed freely down his face.

"He stopped breathing! Please, help him; please, save him." Arthur begged of the man standing before him.

The tall man knelt down and placed his hand on Merlin's chest. After a moment, he moved his hand up to Merlin's forehead and he spoke words that had no meaning to Arthur. He assumed that they were some sort of spell or incantation from the old religion. The prince of Camelot didn't say a word; he only looked on holding his breath and praying that this would work. A moment later Merlin took a shuddering breath. It was the most wonderful sound Arthur had ever heard. It seemed an eternity, even though it was only a moment before Merlin took another breath and then another.

Arthur sat back on his heels and shook slightly as relief flooded through him. He had an overwhelming desire to weep, but he held his emotions tightly in check. After a moment he said, "Thank you." in a husky voice.

The tall man examined Merlin's wounded arm with a frown on his face. "What happened?"

Arthur tried to read the man's face to see if he thought he could help Merlin, but his face was carefully schooled to give nothing away. "This morning he was shot with a poisoned arrow. It must be over two hours ago by now." Arthur answered.

The druid looked up and past Arthur at the surrounding forest. "You are pursued by enemies?" he asked, sounding alarmed.

"No, it was a hunter. Sometimes hunters who are less skilled will use poison on their arrows to ensure a kill. It is a forbidden practice, but it is nearly impossible to enforce. I don't think the hunter saw Merlin when he shot the deer. Merlin was petting the deer at the time and the arrow went through the deer and into his arm."

The druid stared at Arthur with a curious look on his face. "He was petting a deer?"

Arthur smiled slightly at the memory. "It was the most extraordinary thing I have ever seen. The deer wasn't afraid of him at all. It walked right up to him and it allowed him to touch it."

The druid stood up and waved at hand toward the forest. Two more druids stepped out from the trees, simply seeming to materialize from thin air, although Arthur was sure that was just an illusion they used to make it look that way. They walked quickly forward at the tall man's beckon.

"We must get Emrys to the healer quickly. His condition is very grave; however you must remain here, Arthur of Camelot."

Arthur brows furrowed at the use on the name Emrys. It was obvious that the druid was talking about Merlin, but he didn't understand why he had called him that. What ever the reason it mattered little, for the only important thing was that this man would help his friend. The prince had risen with the druid and now stood resolutely in front of the man. "You know who I am, but I do not know you."

"My name is Barach. I am the leader of my community." the druid said, cautiously.

Arthur held out his hand in a gesture of welcome and said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Barach, but where he goes, I go."

Barach did not take Arthur's outstretched hand. He looked at the prince with hard and piercing eyes. "I cannot allow you to come to our camp, Arthur Pendragon. The last time you came to a druid community, too many of our people were killed."

Arthur kept his hand extended and stared right back at Barach. "I am very sorry about that. It was not my choice."

Barach didn't move at all. "There is always a choice."

Arthur stubbornly refused to withdraw his hand and held it out waiting for Barach to accept it in friendship. "Barach, you have no idea how much I wish that were true. Merlin is my servant.... he is my friend. Where he goes I must go. I will tell no one of your settlement. My only concern is for Merlin. You have my word."

Barach considered Arthur's words for a moment. Neither man was willing to back down, but he had to concede that Arthur had not threatened them in any way. His fear for the injured young man was genuine as was evidenced by his frantic cries for help and the tears tracks that still graced his face. Finally, Barach took a hold of Arthur's hand and shook it firmly.

Arthur felt relief course through him. He realized that he was in no position to insist, if he wanted them to help Merlin, and he was very glad that he didn't need to try to track them through the woods. That was an act that would clearly be seen by the druids as aggressive, but he was prepared to do exactly that if Barach hadn't accepted his hand in friendship and allowed him to accompany them.

The trek to the druid settlement was not very long. Merlin had been placed up on Arthur's horse and secured by some means that Arthur couldn't detect. Arthur led Merlin's mare by the bridle, and they walked through the dense forest until a thinning of the trees and the smell of smoke announced their arrival at the settlement.

The druid settlement had both a temporary and semi-permanent feel to it. Most of the structures were made out of fabric and resembled tents, but many of the tents also had roofs built above them or thatched siding covering the fabric walls lending them support and probably insulation from the harsher elements. This combination of fabric, wood, and thatching is what gave the semi-permanent feel to the place, not to mention the structures he saw built high up in the trees themselves with plank and rope bridges connecting them to one another. Many of the structures that were made of a combination of wood and tent material on the ground were built along the sides of the larger trees using the trees themselves as structural supports. It looked, upon quick inspection, as though the settlement and the natural wood of the forest were symbiotic using the natural landscape to its fullest to accommodate the daily lives of the people living here. Arthur could also see that, if it was necessary, it wouldn't take an enormous effort for the entire community to pull up stakes and move to another location.

Most of the druids were out and roaming around the little village. A few young children were running through the camp and around drying racks and cooking pits with tripod wooden supports for cooking pots that were scattered around the settlement in front of many of the tents. Women and men alike could be seen attending to the youngsters. The entire community looked no different than any of the villages throughout the kingdom with the exception that this particular community was clearly in hiding in the forrest and living a moderately nomadic life.

The horses were stopped and tethered on the edge of the settlement and the druids who came with Barach very gently pulled Merlin down from Arthur's horse and carried him to a large tent near the center of what could have been considered the village square. Arthur followed them closely, with Barach keeping pace beside him. When Arthur entered the tent, he was surprised to see how large it was on the inside. There were three low bed frames in the main portion of the tent. Arthur could see that a portion of the structure had been sectioned off, most likely as living quarters for the occupant. On one of the beds lay Jacob; he looked far better than he had when Arthur had seen him yesterday. He realized that this must be the living quarters and infirmary for the druid healer.

The druids carrying Merlin lay him down on one of the other beds and before Arthur could ask where the healer was, suddenly a small woman appeared beside the leader. He looked around quickly to see where she had come from, but the partition drape showed no signs of having been moved and the entrance to the tent was clearly in his view. He had not seen her when he entered behind the druids carrying Merlin, and felt slightly disconcerted that she was able to creep up so stealthily.

She walked right up to Arthur and stared up into his eyes. She had long slightly wavy dark hair, a soft and kind face, and deep brown eyes that held a palpable power. "What is it you ask of me, Arthur Pendragon?"

Arthur looked right back into her eyes and his voice never faltered. "I know what the law says about consorting with druids and I am willing to accept any ramifications for my decision to come here. I am requesting your help for my servant who was injured and poisoned. I am asking you to heal him?"

End Chapter Six

No Cliffhanger this time - sorry.