Past and Present Danger

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Let me know what you think of this chapter.

Chapter 28

Pressure. Crushing and unbearable pressure. Merlin could feel his whole body shaking with the effort of keeping the rock fall from overwhelming him, but he knew he was loosing the battle. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that somehow he had to find a way of surviving and getting back to Arthur. He barely remembered who the man was; all he did know was that everything in him wanted to protect him. He didn't really understand why anymore, but it didn't matter. He knew from the last few days, that he was the King's unspoken protector and closest friend, which meant that being crushed to death under the remains of the gorge wasn't an option.

Merlin tried to clear his thoughts to work out what he could do, but his head was throbbing from the impact against the rock wall and he was finding it difficult to focus, especially while having to concentrate on keeping the rocks levitated.

He considered his options. He couldn't get back through the tunnels. The rock fall had blocked all exits. He closed his eyes, trying to think; there had to be something. But it wasn't until he opened them again that he saw the slightest glimmer of hope. And it was a glimmer. Up above, through the cracks that existed between the build up of debris, Merlin could see bright shards of sunlight. Sunlight that he hadn't been able to see before. Yes, there had been a little illumination, but it had been dull light, cut off by the way the walls of the gorge narrowed and folded at the top.

That was it. A way out that hadn't been there before. In bringing down the gorge on top of him, Morgana had created an escape route. If he could reach it, that was. But surely that was possible. The amount of rubble that was currently pressing down on him, making him feel like he was in a vice-like shadow, would be enough to scale the gorge and climb out if it was underneath him. Controlling the rubble to ensure that it didn't crush him, however, was going to be hard, especially in his current state. He couldn't be sure, but he was fairly certain that he had broken his ankle and as for his chest, he wasn't ruling out the possibility that he had cracked some ribs when he fell earlier.

He ignored those things. They were small and meaningless compared to what would happen if he failed to get back to Arthur and protect him. Camelot's entire history and future, along with his and his three companions', was in danger.

Taking several deep breaths, Merlin managed to block out the pain and the pressure for long enough to form a plan. At the moment, his magic was distributed throughout the gorge, a few metres around him in every direction and then right up to the top. He hadn't bothered to try and hold up the rocks further away from him, knowing that they would have been too much in his current state. He had had no choice but to let them fall and block the exits. Keeping the closer rocks aloft, however, had been survival instinct. They floated above him and around him, their weight spread out evenly on his magic. He realised, however, that if he wanted to get out, he would have to change tactics.

The thought of what he was about to do made him close his eyes for several seconds to try and calm himself, but he didn't really have the luxury of time and so, sooner than he would have liked, he began his escape attempt.

Slowly, and as carefully as he could, Merlin sat up. The rocks above him moved up slightly, filling in the few remaining gaps, while the layers above them compressed as well. The draw on his magic didn't change that much, but he knew that wouldn't last for long. Achingly slowly, keeping his magic in mind at all moments, Merlin managed to get to his knees. His ankle and ribs twinged painfully, but not enough to distract him from the task of keeping the rocks in place. Again the layers above him compressed and now he began to feel the weight and pressure of them even more powerfully in his magic as the layers began to build on top of one another.

The final part was to stand. Just the thought of it sent sweat beading down Merlin's forehead, but he pushed on, knowing he had no choice. He put weight on his good ankle first and slowly, just about managing to keep his balance, he pushed himself up to full height, the rocks moving upwards once more. Gingerly, he put his bad ankle to the floor, hardly letting it bear any weight. Pain spiked through it, but he could stand on it. Maybe it wasn't broken after all. He didn't dare to hope on that and instead refocused.

All around him, he could feel his magic shuddering; trembling at how much it was having to endure by keeping the rocks in place. Merlin couldn't remember if he'd ever used his magic so strongly, but either way, this did not feel natural. It felt like his entire being was ready to snap at any moment; not just physically, but also magically. He shook his head; this was not the time for reflection.

He didn't allow himself to relish his victory in standing up, knowing that the next part would be even more difficult. He was planning on pulling his magic back to himself to form a shield just around his body, protecting him from the rocks, rather than using the magical field that was currently keeping them at bay. The formation of the shield wasn't difficult; keeping it sturdy against the rocks when they were all piled up on top of one another, on the other hand, was.

He began slowly, forming a thin shield around the edge of the magical field and then slowly allowing the excess magic to fuse with it, strengthening it as it moved down. The shield, growing stronger every moment due to the magical infusion, allowed Merlin to hold back the rocks as they once again tried to fall to the ground now that the magical field was gone. At first the weight wasn't too bad, but as the magical field shrank further back and the amount of rocks resting on the shield became greater, Merlin began to buckle. Nevertheless he carried on. He could feel blood running down his face, from where his nose had begun to bleed under the pressure, but he continued, spurred on by something much greater than his own magical abilities and strength. It was sheer will power that allowed him to continue collapsing the field as tons of rocks pressed down on him, vying for the best position to crush him.

Eventually the shield was only a few inches from every surface of his body. The darkness was complete as the rocks piled together around him. It pushed into his shield at every point, threatening to obliterate him at any moment, but he continued, his awareness of the situation seemingly diminished as all his focus began to centre on keeping back the terrible tide of rock and death.

The last stage. Slowly, so as not to compromise his shield at any point, Merlin lifted his good ankle off the floor. His concentration was so intense that the pain in his injured one barely registered. All his focus was on the rocks that filled in the gap where his foot and leg had been. He heard and felt them rearranging themselves below his foot as his knee forced its way into a space that had been occupied by debris. Sure enough, seconds later when he lowered his foot, he connected with a new surface on which to stand. Cautiously, he pushed himself up on that leg, feeling the resistance at the top of the shield as he began to push against the rocks above him. He pressed on; his teeth gritted and fists clenched, until eventually his leg was completely straight. Again the rocks moved to accommodate the new gaps that had been created and escape from the push of the shield. Soon his other leg found purchase.

And so it continued. The achingly slow process of inching his way upwards, using his shield as protection and the rocks as his lift to the top. It was barely noticeable at first, but soon he became aware of the pressure lessening as he moved closer to the top. As more and more rocks found themselves below him, his body stopped trembling and his magical power was less brittle. The pain in his ankle became more evident as his focus was redistributed to the rest of the world, making it hard for him to make the last few pushes, but he made it and eventually broke through into the sunlight and pulled himself free.

Once out, Merlin felt his shield die away and then felt himself tumbling to the ground. He managed to steady himself, thus avoiding further injury, and simply lay on the top of the rocks. He barely noticed the rubble digging into him. All he was aware of was the way his chest heaved -each breath sending pain spiking through him- and the truly surreal sensation of feeling like he was floating, that if he just jumped into the air he would fly off, lighter than a wisp of cloud. It sent a somewhat euphoric rush through his body, lightening the pain of all his injuries and making his thoughts flow in and out of one another like water. But one thought still managed to break through the haze vividly.

Arthur.

Merlin sat up instantly as he recognised the significance of the word. That was why he was here, that was why he had fought his way through the crushed remains of the gorge. Morgana was going after Arthur and the Prince and his young self and if that happened…

He got to his feet, falling as he put too much weight on his ankle. That wouldn't do. He had to be quick. He looked around. He was currently sprawled on top of the rubble he'd just climbed through. On either side, where the gorge top had used to be, there was a jagged incline of destroyed gorge walls. They extended up on a diagonal slope for maybe two or three metres before the ground levelled off to where there were grasses and trees growing.

Quickly, with the currently drained magic that resided in him, Merlin cast a few spells on himself to numb the pain in his chest and ankle and then scrambled across the rocks and up the steep incline. He cut his hands, arms and legs several times as he dragged himself towards the top of the gorge, but eventually found himself on the grass. The softness of it was a welcome relief, but he gave himself little time to revel in it. Instead, he looked around and located several pieces of thin, strong wood from fallen branches. He called them over to himself with a flash of his eyes and then tore strips of material from his shirt. Using magic to hold the twigs in place around his ankle, he tied them tightly with the tatters of his shirt, creating a rudimentary, but effective, splint. He stood up. It still hurt, but the splint, on top of the numbing magic, made it so that he could walk, and hopefully run, with a pronounced limp. It would have to do.

Merlin looked around and calculated where the gorge entrance and Arthur were. Without another second's hesitation, he took off in that direction, running and limping across the top of the gorge, knowing that only he could save everyone.

Arthur watched in horror as his young self threw himself in front of Merlin and the knife that was heading towards the boy. For a split second he forgot about the protection that the Prince had, but as the knife reached him, perilously close to where his heart and lungs were, Arthur saw the flash of blue light and a shimmer pass across the surface of the boy's body.

Only then did Arthur allow himself to close his eyes, just for a moment, in relief. Of course, he remembered that part; remembered Merlin saying that the protection that had been on the two of them had been transferred to the boys. In fact, the Prince was in no danger whatsoever from Morgana; she wouldn't be able to hurt him. But then she had found a way around the shields of the dark haired boy who was currently obscured from view behind the Prince's body.

Arthur shook his head. He didn't have time to think about those things. Yes, the Prince might be safe, but Arthur and Merlin were as much at Morgana's mercy as they had ever been. How long could she be stalled before she tried something again?

Not long as it turned out. She let out a cry of rage at her failed attempt and stormed over towards the Prince. He didn't look too concerned by the furious witch who was in front of him; in fact, he barely seemed to notice she was there. A look of intense confusion was on his face. He stared at the knife on the ground, where it had landed several metres away, and then looked down at his own body. Reaching his hand up to his back, the boy felt the spot where the knife should have hit. Finding nothing he looked at Merlin, but he was focussed on Morgana's approach. Finally, after checking those places once more, the Prince looked up at Arthur, searching for answers.

And then Arthur understood. The revelation of the knowledge sent a flare of pride running through him, while at the same time humbling him. He looked at his younger self and saw a glimpse of the King they both wanted to be once again. The Prince hadn't known about the shield. Arthur thought back over the last few days; as his only remaining memories, they were easy to call to mind. He knew that Merlin had mentioned to his young self about the transferral of the wards, but it had been decided that the Prince would only react badly to the information and so he had been left in the dark. Had there been any other time when the shields had been mentioned? During the first body swap they had been, but at that point the Prince had been so guilt-ridden that Arthur doubted he even heard the words. He had jumped in front of the knife to protect Merlin, truly believing that the weapon would either injure or kill him.

From the point of view of keeping the two Arthurs alive it had been an utterly reckless and stupid plan, from the point of view of demonstrating just how much the Prince had come to understand Merlin's importance in his future, it was the only possible plan. Suddenly Arthur yearned to remember what his relationship with Merlin had been like. How important must their friendship be if the Prince had taken such a risk to try and emulate it? For that was what he had done, of that Arthur was sure. Something inside him told him that he would quite happily lay down his life to protect Merlin and he knew that Merlin would do the same for him. The account that he had read from the scroll, written in his own hand, had affirmed that.

But Arthur had little time to reminisce over what his life might have been like. Morgana had reached the Prince and was picking him up. The shield evidently didn't stop her from being able to do that.

'Don't think you can stop me,' she hissed in the boy's face, but the Prince didn't look the least bit concerned. He evidently didn't understand what the shield was, but he more than realised the protection it offered him.

'It doesn't look like you can stop me though,' he told her, the smallest smug smile creeping onto his face. She threw him down on the floor, but he was uninjured by the impact, instead he sprang back to his feet and made a leap for the knife that had rebounded off the shield. By that time, Morgana had turned to face Merlin once again. Arthur struggled against the invisible force that was keeping him captive, but it was useless. He couldn't do anything to stop Morgana, but his younger self had no such problems. As Morgana raised her hands, evidently deciding that it would be quicker to finish off Merlin with magic, rather than fight Arthur for the knife, the Prince dashed in front of the boy once again, holding out the knife, ready to attack.

She laughed at him.

'I may not be able to touch you, but your weapon on the other hand…' She flicked her wrist and the knife skittered across the floor once again. The Prince stared at her furiously.

'Leave him alone!' he yelled at her.

'He will die, as will you.'

'I won't move away from him and you can't get past me.'

Arthur highly doubted that. Morgana had just demonstrated that, while she couldn't harm the boy, she could quite easily move him out of the way. No matter how hard he fought against her, there was no denying that she was a lot stronger than him. With a smirk, she moved back and picked up Arthur's sword from where it lay on the ground, her eyes never leaving the Prince's. The boy tensed, readying himself for a fight, but Arthur couldn't understand the move. Why bother picking up the sword at all? Aside from maybe moving the Prince out of the way if his instincts overrode his memory of the shield, the weapon would be useless.

'It doesn't matter if you won't move,' she began, her voice quiet. 'Have you forgotten? It isn't really you two I want to kill.'

Understanding sliced through Arthur a second before his own sword did the same thing. He saw Morgana turn and direct the sword forward with magic and didn't even have time to yell as it bit into his chest. The Prince on the other hand had all the time and regret he needed to cry out.

'No!'

Even Merlin's weak voice could be heard, mixing with the Prince's.

Arthur took several deep breaths, waiting for the pain to explode through his chest, for the blood to begin pouring from the fatal wound, but after several seconds he frowned and looked down. Yes, it hurt, but no, it wasn't agony. More like a minor battle wound that was irritating, but by no means debilitating.

He focused on the sword and realised that the tip had barely pierced him. It looked like it was no more than a few millimetres into his chest, if that. Eyes narrowed in confusion, he looked up at Morgana, wondering if she meant to kill him slowly, easing the sword in while she watched him die. But the expression on her face was one of confused fury. Their eyes met across the short distance and for a split second he thought he saw something familiar in them and then she was flying across the ground towards the trees and Arthur was falling. He just remembered to bend his knees in time, managing to avoid breaking his legs. His sword clattered noisily on the floor in front of him.

He stood there, somewhat dazed for several seconds, but his instincts soon kicked in. He grabbed and sheathed Excalibur –it would be useless against Morgana- and then rushed over to the boys.

'What happened? What happened?' the Prince was asking.

'Take a guess,' he replied with a grin. As quickly as he could, he scooped Merlin up -who was like a dead weight at first, but then made an attempt to wrap his arms more firmly around Arthur's neck- and then looked frantically around. It didn't take him long to spot the person he was looking for. Up on top of the gorge entrance, his hand outstretched, his back straight, was Merlin. Arthur's initial relief at seeing the man quickly turned into alarm as he saw the state of him. He was deathly pale and covered in blood. He began to sway on his feet, but then flinched and focussed on Arthur.

'Arthur,' he called, indicating that he should come up as well. Arthur glanced behind to see Morgana back on her feet, her face boiling with anger. She raised her hand towards him, but a blast of power from on top of the gorge held her in place and pushed her backwards.

'Come on, go!' he shouted to the Prince.

'You first,' he insisted, 'she can't injure me.'

Arthur didn't argue with his logic and raced around the side of the gorge for several metres and then began the very steep climb up towards Merlin, which was made even more difficult by the boy who was barely managing to hold onto him. Behind them, the Prince was focussed and calm.

It didn't take long to reach Merlin and he looked even worse close up. His breathing seemed irregular, there were cuts all over his body and his head was bleeding profusely at the back. He looked ready to keel over.

'We need to get out of here, Merlin,' Arthur told him.

'She'll only follow us. You go, I can hold her off.'

'Merlin, we are not going without you.'

'You have-'

'Just call Kilgharrah,' the Prince interrupted, looking urgently at Merlin. 'He can help with Morgana can't he?'

'Get behind me!' Merlin shouted before the Prince could carry on.

'But-' he began, but Arthur understood Merlin's order. Morgana was moving forwards, her hands out, her eyes glowing. All around them the wind whipped up and Arthur looked up to see storm clouds gathering just above them, sparking with lightning. Merlin sent what looked like a jet pure energy hurtling towards Morgana. The clouds dissipated slightly, but not for long.

'You have to call Kilgharrah,' the Prince insisted.

'And how is he supposed to do that?' Arthur asked; he's half a mile away.

'No,' came a small voice by his ear. He looked at the dark haired boy in his arms. 'He can call him; I've seen it. He's a Dragon Lord. Kilgharrah has to come if he asks.'

Arthur looked at Merlin in shock, but the man looked equally perplexed by the knowledge; he frowned, evidently trying to remember something…anything. For a split second his focus faded, but a strike of lightning very close to them snapped him back to clarity.

'How do I do it?' he asked hurriedly, keeping Morgana at bay once again.

'You just looked up and shouted,' Merlin explained. 'Your voice went funny.'

Merlin looked at Arthur, tired and weary. 'I'll try. I remember doing it before, but if it doesn't work I can't last much longer.'

Arthur nodded at him, trying to convey his gratitude for everything he had done. What must he have been through in the past hour or so to get to the point where he was so exhausted? Arthur had read how he had taken on the darkness that invaded Camelot. That had taken power beyond anything that was being displayed today. This should have been an easy battle, or at least a winnable one, but Merlin seemed to be weakening before his eyes. It filled him with dread. He had little time to dwell on it however; a moment later, Merlin's voice rang out loud and clear, calling into the air; a desperate cry for help.

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