Chapter 12

Warning/s: Torture-y stuff.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: I am back after my hiatus! Thank you to everyone who has stayed with me and been so understanding about the issues I've been having, I will be updating regularly now and I really hope you enjoy the story! Honestly, the support for this story is absolutely overwhelming so I hope it's still living up to your expectations!

The stallion's back was swaying, his legs wobbling from the fierce, unforgiving sun that beat down on the group. Arthur could sense that his faithful mount was on the verge of collapse, and he could scarcely blame him. Whatever water they had left over from their own rations they gave to their horses, but it was not enough for the large, agile creatures that carried them so faithfully.

Arthur wished that he was back in the forest for a moment: however dense and claustrophobic it had been, the crowd of trees had provided shade with their overhanging boughs and overlapping layers of leaves. It had been pleasantly cool for the majority of the time, and even when the temperature had risen, it had been balmy and the men only required a few sips of water each day, and the horses the equivalent amount.

Arthur squinted into the horizon. He had heard many tales of how wavering hear in the desert and an insufficient supply of fluids could make a man go crazy and see things that weren't truly there. He had grown up with a heavily superstitious father – who had believed these mirages were the work of sorcery – and a learned Court Physician, both of whom near constantly told him stories of those who had wandered too far with insufficient supplies and gone insane from the exhaustion.

But unless he was like those men trekking through the desert in all of those tales, the desert ahead of him seemed to split into two parts, hard to see due to the sand that was all of the same hue, and really only visible to Arthur because his eyes were sharp and trained to pick up on subtle differences. One part remained on the same level as the ground was now, but the other half went down in a gentle slope until it levelled out, and then curved away to the left so the remainder of the path was not visible, compressed sand making up the steep, cliff-like walls with what appeared to be chalk mixed in a little.

It looked to be a fair distance away still, so Arthur had some time to consider what to do when they reached the forked trail, and indeed if it was real. It wouldn't do anything for his knights' morale if their King and leader suddenly started barking out orders over an imaginary path. However, he could hear the loyal group muttering behind him, and from his peripheral vision he could see them gesturing towards the paths as well. Arthur pretended not to see them, but secretly he felt a flood of relief that he hadn't begun to see things. The paths were there, so now all that remained was to figure out his plan. The most obvious, logical option was to split his group into two and have each half take one of the paths.

But, Arthur mused as he worried at his lip with his teeth, there were several major flaws with that plan. Firstly, the two separated groups might never find each other again, if the split road didn't meet up at the end. Secondly, he had no idea what lay beyond either of these paths. Knowing his luck, there would be a whole host of magical creatures that even his oddly fortunate luck wouldn't be able to defeat. And thirdly, what if Merlin was behind one of the paths? Would only half the group be enough to nurse him back to health and take him back to Camelot?

But then, on the other hand, if he took the whole group down one path and then had to retreat because it led them directly to a dead end, and Merlin was at the end of the other, how much time would he have wasted? And what if Merlin wasn't at either end of the paths? Or what if they were walking into a trap?

He swallowed his nerves and forced himself to think of what was best for Merlin. If someone found him then it would be easier to save him, even if it was just half the group. And even if they didn't find Merlin there, they might have at least discovered something about this land they were in. "Let's split up," Arthur called back to the group, as they approached the forked paths. He swallowed any doubt and made sure to shield his anxiety from his voice; men were like horses, sometimes, and if they sensed your fear, could become skittish themselves. "Gwaine, Elyan and Percival, you take the left path." He pointed towards the path that sloped downwards and then curved around. "Leon and I will take the other. It's the quickest way to find Merlin." Or maybe not, he added silently in his head, but as often as Merlin called him various insults insinuating his stupidity, the King wasn't foolish enough to add that last piece.

He glanced around quickly to gauge their reactions; they were all nodded or making noises of agreement. He allowed himself a quick flash of pride before getting on with the task at hand, both for himself for making the decision and for the men he led for not questioning him. Their eternal trust was both comforting and terrifying. His loyal knights were no more than a couple of strides behind him, so he did not bother to pause before he pushed his stallion into a canter and headed onwards, his stallion's hooves thudding along the path he had decided to take. He wondered momentarily if he should have volunteered to take the lower path himself, but there was a gut feeling that the others would tackle it better. The reason for it, he was unsure of, but from how often Merlin had "funny feelings" that actually came true, he let his heart rule his head for once.

He glanced down and saw the three knights cantering down the sloping path, before disappearing out of sight from the copious twists and turns. He could heard the steady hoof beats of Leon's gelding behind him, thudding loudly on the compressed sand. It was so tightly-packed that it was like solid, unyielding stone. Arthur was glad for that at least; loose sand was slippery, and it really wouldn't do for either horse or knight to become injured now.

Merlin did not know how Morgana was doing this; he possessed the most powerful magic known to the Old Religion, but he could not even begin to fathom how he would cast this spell. He supposed that it could be a spell that he had never heard of; or maybe it was a combination of spells that he had never used because unlike Morgana, he preferred to use his magic for good purposes.

It was a burning sensation, beginning in his feet and spreading upwards, right from the very tips of his toes, and rolling upwards millimetre by agonising millimetre. It felt like wicked, abnormally scorching flames were licking at his skin, melting it away and singeing his bones, leaving behind the heap of his seared skeleton and molten organs. But it was doing no damage to him that could be seen; between splutters of pain and cries of agony, he forced himself to glance down and saw his clothes still intact and his skin pale and unblemished, despite the fire torturing his whole body.

Morgana was sitting opposite him, moving her hands around lazily. She was controlling the fire, Merlin had realised, and was making the invisible flames sweep up and down his body with infuriatingly indifferent boredom. Merlin was holding his head up, craning his neck, as if he was a drowning man gasping for air. In reality he was just trying to escape the flames that were brushing his neck, trying to stop them from reaching his skull. He knew there was nothing there, really, but he could only imagine how painful the sensation would be if it were to reach his brain.

Luckily for him, Morgana seemed to grow bored of this cruel method after not too long. She was obviously hoping for him to reveal who Emrys was, but he was in such agonising pain that he couldn't even speak, let alone spill his secrets if he wanted to. Whether this was the reason why she stopped, or whether a flicker of the old Morgana came through and she felt a rush of empathy, Merlin wasn't sure. If he had to gamble, he would have put his money on the former though. Morgana had become so warped from her power and lust for vengeance that Merlin couldn't bring himself to believe that there was any of the kind woman left.

"You're useless," Morgana mumbled, a different tone to her usual crystal-clear voice. "Worthless. I don't know why I even bothered." She staggered to her feet, clutching at the wall, and stumbled towards the entrance of the cell. The spell had weakened her, Merlin realised. He wasn't surprised because he knew himself of how strong magic could drain his very being. But the iron fetters still chained him down so he was unable to attack when she was weak enough that he might succeed. He clenched his fists together in frustration and agony, imagining golden streams running through the tendons in his arms and bursting open the manacles.

Merlin knew that she was getting impatient, and soon she was going to up the torture she was putting him through. He shuddered when he thought of how much pain he was in already. He had to get out of there – he didn't know how, but he knew he would give in soon. And if he did, there would be unimaginable consequences.

Arthur had almost fallen asleep in the saddle, and he was sure that Leon had as well. The path they had taken was no different to before. There were no lakes around, no trees, not even insects or bugs. It was just a barren landscape. Neither of them had dared to speak in case anything leapt out at them suddenly in this unknown land, but unfortunately the lack of speech and similar horizon had dulled their brains.

Both of the knights woke up, however, when they began to tilt forwards. Arthur blinked, barely able to fathom anything anymore. He felt like his mind needed to be sharpened, like a sword having a whetting stone cast along its edge. They were heading downwards, down a steep hill made of yet more sand. Arthur wondered sleepily whether they were going to meet up with the end of the other path that Elyan, Gwaine and Percival had been sent through. He voiced this opinion to Leon, who agreed. Suddenly they were both wide-awake, as if they had just woken up from the best night's sleep in years.

Indeed, when the path became straight again, they saw the twisting valley that the others had ridden down. By now it was pitch black and bitterly cold, and a wind had started up and sand that drifted along the surface of the harder, compacted ground was threatening to invade their eyes and nose.

"Sire, we should make camp." Leon brought his horse to a gentle halt and Arthur followed suit, patting his horse's neck gratefully. He would give him as much water and food as he could spare tonight.

He agreed immediately – even if he didn't want to, he was too tired to argue. "Good idea. The others will find us; if they had come out already, I'm sure they would have waited." In the distance, he spotted something shimmering in the moonlight. Dimly, he wondered if he was starting to hallucinate now. "Leon, tell me if I'm wrong; but is that a lake over there?"

Leon squinted over to where the king was pointing and smiled. "I believe it is, Sire." He dismounted and took a few jogging strides forward. "Shall I water the horses?"

"Yes!" Arthur exclaimed. He scrambled down from his own horse and grabbed the camping equipment that was slung over his hindquarters. "I'll begin to set up camp." He felt giddy; he and the rest of the knights had enough water to last them another two weeks, if they were careful with their rations, but he was becoming increasingly worried about the horses. He watched as Leon led the weary mounts towards the small pool of water.

He quickly unpacked the equipment, and just as he had finished getting everything set up, Leon headed back. The horses looked far more energized now, trotting eagerly, even whinnying when they saw that Arthur had pulled out two apples for them. "There were a few patches of grass," Leon explained. "They ate and drank their fill."

"Good." Arthur patted his horse and loosened the girth to allow him to relax, tossing one of the apples to Leon and allowing his stallion to crunch up his own. "Let's settle down until the others arrive." He accepted a few dry twigs that Leon had gathered and piled them close, but not dangerously so, to the beds he had laid out. He used two to create a spark, wishing that Merlin was there with his uncanny ability to set anything alight in a matter of seconds, and soon a fire had blazed up strongly.

Arthur had meant to stay awake to see if the others arrived, but when he saw Leon's eyelids closing, he thought he might as well rest his eyes for a bit as well. Not to go to sleep, obviously, but just a quick break. One of them had to keep watch, of course. Who knew what sort of creatures lurked here? He needed to be alert and on top of his game.

Unfortunately, his willpower wasn't quite as strong as he would have liked it to be, and within a few minutes he was snoring.

A/N: Leave me a review maybe so I know my writing doesn't suck? Pretty please?