Chapter Eighteen

After checking the rock (there was certainly no King Uther there; what was Merlin talking about?), Xyla looked down at Merlin and said, "He needs to be healed."

Arthur shot her a hard look. "We're being shot at and those guards might come charging out here any second."

"How far away are horses? Trees? Any kind of cover other than rocks?"

Arthur shifted Merlin's body on his shoulders and prepared to stand. "We can make it."

Xyla didn't know Arthur very well, but she was beginning to pick up on a vibe of unreasonable optimism and guessed Arthur would think they could make it if they were surrounded by a ring of fire. Cocky, she thought, shaking her head.

"Alright, let's go," said Arthur, standing and revealing himself as a target. "Stay as low as you can."

"Try not to let them hit Merlin!" she ordered, and thought he rolled his eyes as he began to run to the next boulder that would provide a bit of cover.

The guards never did catch up to them, and eventually, after what seemed like forever of ducking behind rocks, they were out of reach of the archers. Xyla found herself wondering just how Merlin had made those guards "fall behind." They were probably in an injured heap still. Or maybe they'd gone to check on the witches.

"The horses," gasped Arthur, his face red with exertion. He dropped heavily to his knees outside the woods, placing Merlin face-down on the ground.

"We made it," Xyla admitted, surprised. She knelt down next to him and tried to get a look at Merlin's back without touching the arrow. Now that she wasn't running for her life, she found the time to retie the scarf around her neck and brush her falling hair back. She'd have to put it up when she got a piece of twine or string.

"He looks horrible," she said, biting her lip. "And they took all my herbs and medicines!"

"They took my sword," Arthur said, only partly to her. He looked at the one in his hands. It was good. It just didn't feel like his. He glanced behind them. "Just because they aren't behind us now doesn't mean we're safe, sorceress," he told her, putting emphasis on the word sorceress, because he felt that escaping with her was altogether too friendly an action. And he wanted it clear that he disapproved of her. "We should keep moving. How bad is Merlin?"

Xyla didn't answer at first. She was leaning over Merlin. A thrill of fear went through Arthur. "How bad is he?" he asked again.

"Sorceress? Xyla!"

She looked up with a new alarm in her eyes. "Bad. Prince Arthur, I think he's dying." Blood was covering Merlin's back. Come to think of it, it had been dripping down while they ran too… They probably left a trail of blood. His face was pale, his breathing was shallow, and he wasn't conscious.

"Dying?"

"That arrow was near his heart, and all that running didn't help him."

"You're wrong." Arthur didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out.

Xyla's gaze hardened. "I'm a healer. I've been studying this sort of thing, Prince Arthur. I think I know."

Dying? He couldn't be dying! No! He was the reason Arthur had come along on this ridiculous adventure, and the reason Arthur hadn't killed the skinny little witch before him yet. Merlin couldn't die. He couldn't. Arthur didn't want him to die. He just… that wasn't how things worked. Merlin didn't die on adventures.

"I can save him," said Xyla. "I don't have my pack, but it's probably too late for that anyway. I can save him… with magic." She reached for Merlin, but two strong hands grabbed her arms and yanked her away. She was pulled to her feet and pushed back.

"No!" Arthur insisted. "You won't use your magic on him. That's evil."

"I'm trying to save his life!" Xyla cried, distressed, trying to rush past Arthur. He pushed her back again and brandished his sword. "Arthur, he's dying!"

"He can't be," Arthur said, but his voice wavered. "I can't… I can't condone the use of magic." The words came out easily, practiced.

She tried to go around, but he took a hold of her and didn't let go. Merlin didn't move, just lay there, stark red and barely breathing.

"Fine!" she said. "Don't condone it! You don't need to let me!" She pushed him away and looked the prince in the eye. "I don't need you to condone anything. If you'll stop acting like a wall, I'll do it no matter what you think. I'd just like you to not run me through in the middle of a spell."

Arthur froze. Could he do that? Was that alright? It wasn't like… saying magic was acceptable… But Merlin wouldn't die. (Not that Merlin was dying, of course not, Merlin couldn't die.)

There was a moment of silence, punctuated by irregular breathing, and then Xyla added. "You'll probably never see me this serious again. I'm not going to let Merlin die because he saved me."

And then she walked around Arthur. He didn't move. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she got to her knees beside Merlin and reached out for the arrow. "It's alright, Merlin," she could be heard whispering. "I'm going to use one of the simplest spells at first, okay? And then, I'm going to use more specific ones to finish the healing once it's not an emergency. This is going to hurt a bit…"

She kept talking, and didn't turn around to look and see if Arthur was approaching with a drawn sword. But that was fine, because he wasn't. He was just watching.

The arrow came out, easier than it should have, and Merlin didn't even twitch. The blood didn't flow, but the words from Xyla's mouth did. Her eyes were a shining gold, not fading. Spell after spell slipped out. Merlin's shirt ripped a little hole in itself of its own accord to allow her to see the injury.

Arthur fingered his sword but didn't move. This was healing. It didn't feel evil… It felt good. How strange.

The hole in Merlin's back seemed to be closing, starting in the inside and working upward until the skin was knitting back together. The scar shone white like when a finger presses into flesh too hard, and then faded until Arthur couldn't have even told where the wound was if he hadn't known.

Xyla touched the fabric lightly, still muttering faster than Arthur could think, and the fabric became whole again.

Xyla's eyes faded as she slouched, breathing hard. "That," she said to no one in particular, "takes a lot more practice than it looks like. Sorry I can't clean up the blood too, Merlin."

She patted his back and stood, at last looking at Arthur. He looked back at her. She looked exhausted and sweaty, and not just from the running.

"He'll be up in a second," she said. "You'd better find a place to camp; he won't be strong enough to move unless you like the idea of carrying him again." She turned towards the woods, but Arthur called to her:

"Where are you going?"

"To find some water for a drink and to wash a bit, if any can be found," she said. "I'll catch up."

"Oh." Arthur pointed, trying to be helpful while simultaneously not being friendly. "I think I saw some tiny creek over that way."

She nodded. "Thanks." Sighing and wiping a wet lock from her face, she turned and walked into the woods. Arthur watched her go for a second, and then looked back at Merlin.

Merlin's blue eyes were looking back at him. "Arthur?"