The morning air was still brisk and fresh an hour later as Arthur gently pulled on the reins, slowing his horse to a walk. He did feel much better.
The hills were a glorious green, the sun was warm on his face, and he was refreshed. The nightmare was all but forgotten.
He spied a stream tucked into the trees and urged his mount that way. With a sigh of pleasure he dismounted and scooped himself a cool drink. He'd left the castle in such consternation he hadn't even grabbed his own wineskin. The drink was delicious after a hard ride. Next to him his horse was up to her nostrils, grunting happily.
He stood, wiping the water from his chin like a peasant, and found himself smiling broadly. The castle walls would never equal the natural beauty of his kingdom. He was so proud of his lands. He stretched his arms out widely; raised his closed eyes to the sky to soak in the sun.
Then suddenly he was somewhere else...
Arthur...
The vision hit him like a brick. He saw a rooftop. A watchtower. And Merlin, still and tiny against the stones. Bleeding. Dying or dead.
Arthur...
It faded.
Arthur was still in the forest, still himself, alone.
He staggered and sat hard in a rock, trembling. It was hard to breathe. He was scared, then anger rushed in to rescue him, to focus him. He knew - he felt it in his gut - this was sorcery. This was sorcery!
Someone was trying to get him to believe that Merlin was hurt. That Merlin needed him.
Monstrous. It was a trap. It had to be. Someone was trying to lure the King of Camelot to an evil purpose.
"Well, it won't work!" He yelled into the empty forest. "Do you hear me, Morgana? It won't work!"
His voice echoed back to him.
He realized how alone he was, and his fear rose again to match his anger.
Breathing heavily, he pushed the fear down and let the rage give him strength. He was so angry he barely remembered throwing himself on his horse and riding back to the castle.