Dread
There was something, some feeling coiling in the pit of Merlin's stomach. It felt almost like he imagined a black hole would feel – empty and void but at the same time filled with a sense of inexorable dread, as if you knew that something was about to come along and fill that void, and it was not going to be good. That was how Merlin felt right at that moment, as if he was on the cusp of receiving some really bad news. He hadn't heard it yet, but he knew it was coming... And waiting was the worst part.
Walking out into the snow, Merlin was desperate, searching everywhere for some clue that this was indeed the path Arthur had trod. But beyond the guidance the guard was able to give him, that he had seen somebody travelling north, there were no visible signs that the Prince had been this way at all. Forcing back his panic, Merlin trudged on through the driving rain, grateful, not for the first time, that Gaius had forced him to don woollen garments. Just how far would he have to go, however, before he could extend that same favour to Arthur?
He clutched the bag slung over his shoulder slightly closer to him, and bent his head so that his eyes were shielded even more from the onslaught of the rain. Staring forcefully at the ground Merlin willed it to conjure up some clue of where Arthur might be hiding...
And then it hit him. Of course, why hadn't he thought of it sooner? If the ground couldn't conjure up any clues, then maybe magic could! Seizing upon the first thing that caught his eye, Merlin snatched up a grey pebble from the path directly ahead of him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the hum of magic he could feel all around willing himself to get it right, first time. This was it... Now or never! Life or death... The magic had to work! It was the last idea Merlin had left...
Suddenly there was a violent rush of air around the young warlock, as if a flight of birds had swarmed around the boy, all beating their wings furiously. Merlin felt the wind hit him, but rush around him, passing him by, almost as if he himself were flying. And then suddenly in the midst of that singular sensation, words sprung unbidden into his head. Merlin knew instinctively, without having to be told, that these were the words he had been looking for, the words that he needed... Without a moment's hesistation, Merlin spoke those words, casting his spell out into the storm before him.
"Crai ffeindio Arthur!"
The words poured out from his mouth and as soon as they were spoken, Merlin felt as if some great power had left him along with them, folding itself into and around the shape of the small, non-descript pebble that Merlin had almost forgotten he was holding. For a split second the pebble glowed a bright and brilliant blue, and Merlin watched, entranced, as the colour slowly faded and the pebble sat in his palm – looking just like an ordinary pebble once more.
Merlin was grinning from ear to ear, even cold and dripping with rain as he was. Had the situation been less serious, he would have laughed out loud. The magic had worked! Just like that! For the moment, the young warlock ignored the fact that he had no idea what spell he had just cast or what he was supposed to do next. Whatever it was, he had done it! Surely now, he would be able to find Arthur! He stared at the pebble expectantly. It just sat innocently in the palm of his hand, silent and immobile. Merlin's smile began to fade slightly. What now? He reached out one finger and carefully poked the pebble. It moved slightly, but still did nothing. It certainly wasn't glowing anymore.
Merlin's feeling of euphoria was rapidly being replaced by a sense of frustration. The magic had worked! What spell had been cast? What kind of useless magic had he invoked anyway? Just how was a glowing pebble supposed to help him find Arthur?! A sudden burst of rage, fuelled by inwardly-directed fury and a deep-rooted sense of desperation, gave his arm a spurt of strength and pulling back, he launched the pebble out into the night before him.
"What use are you?" He cried into the darkness. "I'll never find Arthur!" As soon as the Prince's name crossed his lips, the response was instantaneous. A brilliant blue light cut through the night, half-blinding the young manservant who had not been expecting it whatsoever. Crouching slightly with his arm drawn protectively over his eyes and squinting, Merlin was able to make out the source of the glow... A small, round source not too far ahead on the path before him... running forward Merlin scooped up the pebble once more. To his dismay he saw that the glow was once again beginning to fade. But now he had an idea of how to make it work.
"Find Arthur!" he whispered to the pebble and once again the glow sprang back to life and now that he was holding the pebble securely in his hands Merlin found that the glow wasn't blinding at all... Quite the opposite in fact – the glow now seemed to be channelled into a single ray of blue light pointing somewhere ahead, in the direction.
"Is Arthur somewhere down there?" Merlin whispered. On the word 'Arthur' the glow intensified once more and the line of light seemed to become even more solid, cutting the dark night ahead of Merlin almost in two. That was all the encouragement Merlin needed so, hitching his bag closer once more, Merlin strode off in the direction of the fading ray of light...
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If it was possible, Merlin was sure that the light emanating from the pebble he clutched so tightly was getting ever brighter and brighter. He hoped somewhat desperately that meant that he was getting closer to the Prince. He dreaded to think how long Arthur had now been exposed to the brutal elements and if he was not completely coherent and had not thought to seek shelter... Merlin cut off his train of thought before he could reach its conclusion. That was something he would not consider until he was faced with it. As it was, he could only hope for the best and pray that for once, Arthur had met with some form of good luck, or at least common sense... I'll be lucky, Merlin thought, his sense of humour momentarily turning black. Since when have the words 'Arthur' and 'luck' ever gone together?
A sudden burst of light suddenly had Merlin's entire concentration. Had he arrived? Did that mean he had finally found Arthur?! His unspoken question was answered seconds later when he heard what sounded like a bitten-off moan from what he had assumed to be a overgrown log some few feet ahead...
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Arthur's mind was feeling very fuzzy... he tried to sort through the hazy jumble of his thoughts but to no avail. Every time he felt as if he might be getting close to remembering something important, it just slipped away, leaving Arthur feeling cheated for a reason that he couldn't explain...
There was something coming closer... Some kind of bright light, so bright that it seemed to burn right through the retinas of Arthur's half-open eyes... Closing them completely a moan rose up unbidden from his throat, but he ruthlessly bit the sound off. Princes do not *moan*. Probably because his head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton-wool, Arthur found it easy to ignore the little voice that told him that last remark sounded very much like his father...
But that damned light was getting closer and, lacking the strength to order it to go away, Arthur merely tried to turn his head so that his eyes were once again in darkness. He blearily heard a voice calling out his name and felt hands shaking his shoulders. But the rocking motion that induced made his head spin even more dizzily than before and Arthur fell gladly into the black abyss that rose up to swallow him...
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"Arthur!" Merlin cried, joy and worry mixing in equal parts in his tone. Hastily he threw aside the pebble, which, having performed its purpose, had returned to its former dull grey colour – an ordinary pebble once more. He gained the prince's side in seconds and began to roll him over from side, which was completely soaked in water and covered in mud, explaining his previous assumption that he had been a log. "Arthur!" he called out again, slightly alarmed that the prince didn't seem to be responding. Reaching for Arthur's shoulders, he gave the other boy a slight shake, "Arthur, it's me, Merlin! Can you hear me?" The only response he received was the briefest of glances from Arthur before the other boy's eyes rolled back into his head and he became completely limp in Merlin's grasp.
Merlin's stomach did a loop-the-loop. This was bad. This was really, really bad. Arthur was soaked to this skin, he had been out here, lying in this clearing, completely exposed, for who knows how long, and to make matters worse he was now unconscious! And he hadn't seemed that coherent even *before* he passed out. Merlin found himself wishing, not for the first time that night, that Gaius could have come with him to find Arthur. He would have given anything right then for the comforting pressure of the older man's hand on his shoulder and to have been able to hand the insensible young prince over to another... But Merlin shook his head, clearing his mind of all such thoughts. Gaius was not there. And Arthur would never make it to see the physician if Merlin did not take him there himself. For now, Arthur was Merlin's responsibility and his alone!
Feeling suitably chastised and, if not directly calmer, at least better disposed to push back the panic and focus on the situation at hand, Merlin turned to look down at the prince whose entire body weight he was currently supporting. His previous panicked assessment seemed to be right on one count at least. Arthur did not look good at all and, now that Merlin's initial panic had receded somewhat, he noticed that Arthur was shivering quite badly. Mentally thanking Gaius for his forethought, Merlin carefully lowered Arthur back onto the ground once more and began rooting around in his bag for the woollen garments he had brought. Fortunately the bag in which he had carried them had taken the worst the weather had to offer and the jumper inside was still relatively dry.
The young manservant made quick work of stripping Arthur of the worst of his wet upper garments and hastily pulled the warm and dry woollen jumper over his master's head, relieved to see that his shivering instantly began to ease somewhat. With that accomplished, Merlin thrust the wet garments back into the bag he had brought and began to focus on the next task at hand. Merlin was not the strongest of all men, and certainly would need Arthur to support some of his own weight on the long and arduous journey back to the castle. Therefore, in order for that to be possible, the Prince was going to have to be awake. Merlin stared down at Arthur's tightly shut eyes. He had not the first idea how to go about waking him up. The only technique he was familiar with involved dousing somebody with water, but, here Merlin spared a contemptuous glance for the rain still pelting the prince and himself, with Arthur already being soaked that didn't seem to be a viable option. So how else to wake him?
After some thought, Merlin remembered something else that Gaius had given him, a small vial of some herbal remedy or another, he couldn't really remember what Gaius had said it was for, but the smell... Merlin wrinkled his nose even at the memory. Now that was something he wasn't going to forget in a hurry. Unfortunately had been rather preoccupied with panicking over Arthur's safety at the time so his concentration had not been absolute, but he was sure he remembered stuffing it into the recesses of one of his pockets... Merlin was more grateful than words could reasonably express when he found the vial at the very top of the first pocket he searched. Once again mentally thanking Gaius he unscrewed the top of the vial and scrunching up his own nose slightly from the vile stench, he held the container directly under Arthur's nostrils.
Almost immediately Arthur's head moved as, even in unconsciousness he fought to escape from the hideous odour. But Merlin merely moved the vial once more, trapping Arthur's head with his arm as he did so, eliminating any opportunity the prince might have had of escaping from the stench. A groan alerted Merlin that Arthur was finally starting to come around.
"Merlin...?" The Prince's voice was so weak and confused and utterly unlike Arthur that for a second all of Merlin's carefully repressed panic came flooding back. Forcing it back down with some difficulty Merlin managed to reply to his master and friend,
"Yes, Arthur, it's me. How do you feel?" Merlin voice felt tight and his gut twisted as he waited for Arthur's response. The Prince made a slightly muffled noise that Merlin interpreted as a weaker version of his usual irritated grunt.
"Like I just sparred for two days solid with a dragon for a sparring partner... What happened?" Merlin grinned. If Arthur was feeling up to making witty comments then he surely couldn't be faring as badly as he seemed.
"You decided to drink half a bottle of wine and then run away from the castle in the middle of a storm." Arthur frowned in confusion.
"I did?" Merlin nodded and continued,
"So I had to come out here and drag you back before you died of exposure." From his position kneeling beside the Prince, half-supporting him, Merlin felt Arthur bristle at his words.
"Don't be stupid, Merlin." Arthur said as sharply as his currently rather weak voice would allow, " I wouldn't have died, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself." The coughing fit at the end of his sentence didn't do much to help his cause and Merlin merely rolled his eyes.
"Oh yes, of course you are! That's why I found you unconscious in the middle of the forest, soaked to the skin, unable to move..." One look from Arthur silenced Merlin completely.
"You are not to breathe a word of this to anyone, do you understand?" Merlin nodded, barely hiding the small smile that played across his features.
"Yes, my Lord," The Prince seemed sated by Merlin's acquiescence and nodded in a dignified manner that was completely at odds with his current position, being supported completely by the other man and covered in mud from head to toe. It was very nearly enough to set Merlin off laughing, but he managed to restrain himself just barely, wishing to preserve what little was left of the Prince's now sorely injured ego.
"Merlin?" That single word from the Prince brought Merlin out of his reverie, and he snapped back to attention.
"Hmm? What is it, Arthur?" His gaze transferred to the Prince as he waited patiently for his response.
"It just got warmer... Didn't it? I feel warmer..." Merlin's gaze on the Prince intensified and his brow furrowed in confusion. He glanced up at the sky above them. The stars were still completely obscured by the pelting rain and the wind was howling just as much as before. Merlin certainly didn't feel any warmer. So why did Arthur? Merlin reached out one hand to rest it against the Prince's forehead, as he had expected it was cold to the touch. Frowning, Arthur reached up one hand to bat Merlin's away, his frown deepening as it took him two attempts to get his co-ordination right.
A sudden memory struck him and Merlin felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his stomach. He remembered something, something Gaius had said that he'd only been half paying attention to at the time... What he would give to go back in time and listen to him now!
The physician had said something about feeling warmer... and entering stage two. And, Merlin thought with a sudden surge of dread, he was willing to bet his right arm that that was not a good thing...
End Part Three
A/N: Okay, basically I know what wrong with Arthur but I'm not revealing it in the plot yet (some of you can probably guess it tho ;D). I have researched the symptoms on Wikipedia and I'm trying to stay as faithful to them as possible, but that does mean that I may occasionally use some modern medical terms or treatments that obviously would not have been known in the 6th century... And while I realise that the TV series is not exactly a strict stickler for historical accuracy, I apologise anyway! Hope you enjoy and all reviews are very much appreciated! :D