CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Merlin clawed his way across the battlefield, his useless leg trailing blood behind him.
The pain didn't matter. He just had to get to Arthur.
To heal him, if he could, or to die at his side. He knew the latter was far more likely.
Camelot's soldiers gave him a wide berth. They didn't know how to respond to a servant-turned-sorcerer who had conquered their enemy with power beyond their wildest imaginings, yet crawled in the dirt like an animal. They pretended they couldn't see him, hurrying instead to search for survivors amongst the fallen.
Merlin could sense glimmers of life as he passed, and knew that Veleda's warded armour had managed to save many lives. Gauis would treat their wounds, and they would be able to go home to their families.
But the enchantments he had laid on Arthur's armour had availed him little.
Gwen would be waiting for her husband, trusting him to come home to her as he always had before. Merlin couldn't bear to imagine the look on her face when, instead of trumpets heralding the King's triumphant return, a procession of pall-bearers brought back his body.
He's not dead yet. Merlin kept that thought fixed in his mind, because it was the only thing keeping him going.
Every inch he travelled was hard-won, but he was excruciatingly aware of the seconds trickling away. How long did it take for a man to bleed out? Could Arthur hold on long enough for Merlin to reach him? Would it even make a difference if he did?
Merlin was halfway there when Arthur's body was discovered.
"King Arthur!" Leon cried. Men came running from all directions.
Merlin panicked. "Don't touch him!" His magic shoved them back.
Leon spotted him, and didn't even question the order. "Do as he says. Give the King space!"
Merlin kept crawling, but Leon was there in a matter of moments. He scooped Merlin into his arms, carefully but with haste, and ran back to Arthur.
"He is gravely wounded," Leon reported, voice strained with anxiety. He set Merlin down. "Tell me that you can heal him."
Merlin stared at his fallen King. Impaled on Mordred's sword, soaked in blood, sprawled on the cold and unforgiving ground. The scene was an exact replica of the image that had haunted his nightmares, and for one wild moment, he felt sure that he was dreaming. This couldn't be real.
"Merlin!" Leon shook his shoulder, urgent and demanding. "You must act quickly. The King is dying."
Years of training as a physician belatedly kicked in and Merlin laid his hands over Arthur's wound, applying pressure even though he knew that far too much blood had been lost already.
He tried to recall a healing spell, any healing spell, but his mind had gone blank.
"I don't know what to do," he whispered.
"But you have magic!" Leon protested.
Tears sprung to his eyes. "It's not enough."
"It has to be! Tell us what you need and we will get it for you. We will do whatever it takes, just tell us how to help."
He needed a miracle.
The faintest whisper brushed against his mind. 'Em…rys…'
Mordred. He felt a hot swoop of anger, but it faltered into cold shock when he saw the druid's crumpled form. He showed no sign of injury, yet he was grey, almost lifeless.
'What happened to you?'
'Betrayed… my oath…'
Merlin was horrified to realise that it was Mordred's own magic that was killing him. 'It wasn't your choice!'
'That… doesn't matter. I failed you, Emrys. I failed Arthur. Now… I pay the price.'
'You don't deserve to die.'
'Nothing can be done… for me. But you may yet save Arthur.'
Hope blossomed within him. 'How?'
'Morgana has… shown us the way.' He sent the image of black runes inked against pale skin. 'You can use her spell to… take my magic.'
'I can't do that to you!' Merlin protested.
'Please, Merlin. Do not let my death… be in vain. This is my one chance… for redemption.'
'But even with all the power in the world, I do not know how to heal him.'
'Ask… the Elders…'
Merlin's eyes widened. He had forgotten that the foremost experts in magical healing were here, on this very battlefield.
"Annessa, the Druid Elder, bring her here, now! And help me reach Mordred."
Leon leapt into action. He sent runners to the end of the pass, and moved Mordred's limp form closer.
Merlin adjusted his hold on Arthur so he could stretch out a hand to the younger knight.
"Roll up his sleeve," Merlin instructed, and Leon did so.
Merlin's fingers were stained with Arthur's blood. It was a grim thing to do, but he had no other ink to hand and blood magic was more powerful. He drew the runes in scarlet, and recited the words of Morgana's spell.
The symbols glowed. Mordred's body arched off the ground.
Power rushed into him, heady and intoxicating.
"Merlin?" Leon asked, a frown creasing his brow, rightfully concerned by the clear display of dark magic.
"He consented," Merlin said, pushing the guilt aside. This wasn't the same as when Veleda and the others had shared their magic with him. Then, he had been a conduit. Now he was a thief; he could feel the power being taken from Mordred and added to his own.
"Emrys, what are you doing?" Annessa asked with alarm. She looked pale and drained, but alert. Supported by two young soldiers, she had made good time, but Merlin could tell she did not have the strength to wield any healing magic herself right now.
"What Mordred asked me to do," Merlin gritted out.
'My magic was corrupted…against my will. I would have it used to right my wrong,' Mordred explained. 'Please…'
Annessa laid a gentle hand against Mordred's forehead. 'As you wish, child.'
"We don't have much time," Leon stressed.
Breath hardly stirred in Arthur's chest. His life was fading.
"This is a grievous injury," Annessa warned, kneeling beside Arthur's prone form. "Sir knight, when the spell begins, you will need to pull the sword from the King's body. Emrys, repeat these words exactly as I say them. Edcwician ġehǣlde alifdest."
Leon gripped the pommel of Mordred's sword and braced against Arthur's shoulder. Merlin placed both of his hands back over Arthur's wound.
Annessa lightly pressed her fingertips against Arthur's throat and pursed her lips. "Hurry."
"Edcwician-" Merlin begun.
There was an awful sucking noise as the blade was yanked free. Arthur gave a sharp cry of pain, blue eyes flashing open. Hot blood gushed over Merlin's hands.
"-ġehǣlde alifdest!"
Blood continued to spill liberally and Arthur's eyes rolled back into his head.
"EDCWICIAN ĠEHǢLDE ALIFDEST!"
It wasn't working. He pulled more of Mordred's magic into himself.
"Edcwician ġehǣlde alifdest! Come on, Arthur! You can't die, you can't, I won't let you. Edcwician ġehǣlde alifdest! Please, Arthur. Please."
"Emrys…" Annessa's voice was laden with sorrow and regret.
"No. No! He's not dead, he's not, I did not spend a decade protecting him only to lose him now."
"His heart has stopped," Annessa said softly.
Leon straightened, his face grim. "Then, the King is-"
"Don't say it!" Merlin snapped.
Leon wisely closed his mouth, not foolish enough to incur the wrath of a grieving sorcerer, but the words rang out anyway.
"The King is dead!"
The triumphant declaration drew every eye to Morgana. Freed from her bonds, she stood at the top of the ridge with the traitor Trosdon behind her. She laughed, high and proud. "Long live the rightful Queen!"
Merlin saw red.
He uttered no spell, but his magic yanked hard and she lost her footing with a scream. She tumbled down the slope, crash-landing at Merlin's feet.
He towered over her, every trace of his own injuries gone. Rage and magic thundered through him. "Is this really what you wanted, Morgana?"
"Emrys," she gasped. "Merlin- mercy-"
"You killed your own brother! You murdered my King!"
She did not show even the slightest flicker of remorse. The Morgana they had once known was truly gone forever.
"His time had ended, but our time is now," she said fervently. "You and I, Merlin, we could rule Albion together."
"Albion will rise," Merlin said, speaking the Truth as it was writ into the very bones of the Earth. "But you will not be there to see it."
He seized her arm in a vice grip.
Her eyes widened with fear. "Help me!" she implored, but she had no allies here. Trosdon had already fled.
Merlin needed no incantation. "A life for a life," he said. His eyes burned gold.
The air was sucked from her lungs, and her life-force with it. She choked on nothing, grasping weakly at his tunic, helpless in the throes of death. He felt no grief or sympathy this time.
A wisp of glowing energy drifted into the air.
Her body fell, empty, discarded.
At Merlin's direction, the light slowly filtered down and diffused into Arthur's chest. It rose on a gasp of air as Arthur's life and soul were returned to him.
"Edcwician ġehǣlde alifdest," Merlin said, one final time. The mortal wound closed over, leaving not even a trace of a scar.
Arthur opened his eyes.
ooOOoo
Later, Merlin could not explain why he had fled.
Arthur woke, and Merlin ran. He ran fast and far, leaving Camlann behind him. He ran until his breathing was ragged and his legs burned from exertion. He ran until the clamour of voices calling after him had fallen to silence and all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He ran from the dead that numbered in the thousands, and from every man who now knew exactly who he was.
He ran, and he didn't know if he would ever stop running.
Except he stumbled over a loose stone and crashed to the ground, skinning hands and knees, barely avoiding a full face-plant into the gritty dirt.
And he found he couldn't get back up again.
Merlin hung his head, panting for breath.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, but the sky darkened and the air grew colder.
"Well, that was stupid," a voice said. Arthur plonked down beside him, wearing the same exasperated expression he'd get when Merlin knocked over a goblet or dropped a basket of clean laundry.
"Sire!" Merlin reeled backwards and ended up falling on his ass.
"Idiot," Arthur said fondly. "What were you thinking, running off like that?"
"I..."
"Do you realise what you did back there?"
Merlin swallowed and nodded, dropping his gaze to his hands. They were covered in blood and dirt; he tried to wipe them on his trousers, but they were equally filthy. After what he had done, he might never wash clean.
Arthur tipped his chin up. "Merlin. You saved my life."
Merlin kept his eyes averted. "By killing Morgana."
"In doing so, you have brought peace to Camelot," Arthur pointed out. When the praise didn't get the reaction he was expecting, his voice softened. "But that can't have been easy for you. I know she was your friend."
Merlin shrugged. "A long time ago." In truth, her death hadn't hurt him as much as it should have. It was frightening, how ruthless he had become. "The woman I fought today… I hardly recognised her."
Arthur hummed. "There's a lot of that going around."
Merlin flinched.
"I didn't mean that in a bad way," Arthur hurried to add. "It's just… you surprised me. Ten years I've known you, and yet I had no idea who you really are."
Merlin tucked his knees up against his chest, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I'm sorry I never told you."
"I understand why you didn't."
"Can you forgive me? For lying to you all this time?"
"Forgive you?" Arthur frowned. "Merlin, I should be thanking you. I died today, and yet here I am, perfectly healthy. My army was hopelessly outnumbered, but we won. I owe you my life and my kingdom."
Merlin didn't know how to respond. "Aren't you…?"
"What?"
"I don't know. Angry? Afraid?"
"I've seen you trip over your own feet," Arthur snorted. "I'm hardly quaking in my boots."
It was usually Merlin's job to break the tension with a joke, but the events of the day weighed too heavily on him. He couldn't even crack a smile. "I slaughtered thousands of men."
"Enemies of Camelot."
"Even so. They must have had friends, families, loved ones."
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder. "That is a burden that all knights must carry. You must hold fast to the knowledge that you have protected many more innocent lives."
"I never wanted to use my magic like this. I didn't want it to be a weapon. I didn't want to hurt people. I wanted to prove that magic could be a force for good, that I wasn't a monster, but instead I proved the opposite."
"Merlin, listen to me. You are not a monster. You are the bravest, most selfless man that I have ever known, and you have done what no one else could. You have ended the war, once and for all."
Merlin sighed. "There will be other wars."
"I don't think so. Merlin, news of what happened here will spread to neighbouring lands. Soon every person in the five kingdoms will know that Camelot is defended by the most powerful warlock the world has ever known. What army would dare to attack us now?"
Merlin blinked in surprise. He had never considered the possibility that Emrys could be a deterrent for their enemies.
"Give it a week," Arthur continued. "I bet that a flood of envoys will be arriving on our doorstep, clamouring for peace."
"So Albion will be born out of fear of me?" He wasn't sure he liked that idea.
"Perhaps, in the beginning. But Merlin, think of what we can do now." His voice was impassioned, his face bright with hope. "With your magic, and the power of the Druids, we can bring new life to these lands. Our crops will thrive, our people will prosper, and our allies will share in our bounty. Albion will be stronger than ever before, and someday, we could all be united as one."
Merlin could see it as clear as a vision. Once, Arthur had simply been the King of Camelot, but in the future, he would become the High King of Albion. "That is your destiny, Arthur," he breathed in wonder. At long last, the prophecy made sense.
"No, Merlin. It's our destiny."
ooOOoo