Chapter 13

Warning/s: None that I can think of.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

A/N: Hello again my lovely readers! I'm sorry that my updates aren't incredibly regular or very close together, as some of you probably hoped for, but between my summer work (I'm doing A-levels next year), my volunteer work and my beta being quite busy, it does take a while for the chapters to get done. Hopefully it should never be more than two weeks or so, but I really cant make any promises. I wish I could update every week, but I just can't. I have several other stories that I'm also writing stuff for, I have loads of work to do and my life is generally just quite busy right now, so what can you do?

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! It really gets my confidence up and inspires me to write quicker, so keep up the good work! I'm glad you're all still enjoying the story and for those of you who were worried about Merlin, his pain may be over soon! It depends how generous I'm feeling with the future chapters...mwahahaha...

Arthur woke at the lightest noises, due to his honed warrior's instincts, and that trip was no exception. He was jolted to consciousness when a horse whinnied and sat bolt upright in seconds, reaching for his sword. There wasn't any danger around them that he could see, so he glanced over at the horses and sighed in relief when he realised that they were simply speaking to each other. Much to Arthur's relief, there were considerably more horses now than there were before when it had been just him and Leon, which could only mean one thing. He looked around him and grinned when he saw his men all sleeping peacefully. Except for –

"Morning," Gwaine said cheerily, emerging from behind the horses. "Thanks for waiting up for us to return."

"Shut up," Arthur said quietly, smiling and running a hand over his face. "We meant to."

"Don't worry about it," Gwaine said in his usual carefree way. "The more rest you get, the more prepared you'll be to find Merlin." A dark shadow passed over the easy-going knight's face at the mention of his – their – friend, but it was gone as quickly as it arrived, and Arthur was left to wonder if he was just projecting his own emotions onto Gwaine.

"We should get going again," Arthur said, after glancing up at the sky. The sun wasn't quite in the middle of the sky, but it was getting there; Arthur would have placed the time at around an hour, maybe two, before noon.

Gwaine nodded his agreement and moved to unhitch the horses, patting each one as he went and giving them a few sips of water. Arthur sheathed his sword and went about waking up his men, greeting those whom he hadn't seen last night.

They had been riding for several hours , with Arthur at the head of the pack. The heat was starting to dull his brain; the terrain was consistent and as such boring. He perked up a little when they approached a steep hill, if only because it was different, and felt a little apprehension about how vertical the slope was; he hoped the sand was as compact as it was everywhere else, or the horses would struggle.

He was the first to come over the crest of the hill – the sand was thankfully easy to walk up – and therefore, the first to see what awaited them on the other side of the hill. There was, quite clearly, a rotting castle ahead of him. It was about half the size of Camelot's, crumbling and decaying, with the lowest floor still intact but the higher levels decrepit. The bricks were an ebony colour, tinged green with moss and mould, and the sand around the castle was an odd grey colour. It wasn't a gradual fade, either; the sand was golden and shining up until a radius of a few feet around the castle, where the sand there suddenly became dreary and dusty. He could hardly believe his eyes; this had to be what Morchant was talking about, surely? He couldn't imagine that the building could be anything else, especially in a place like this. "Quickly!" he called back to his men, trotting down the other side of the hill and halting there, waiting impatiently for them to join him.

The steady clop of trotting hoof-beats came behind him, and then they gradually faded out as the horses were pulled to a halt alongside Arthur. The knights' faces held similar expressions of mingled shock and relief and hope, and Leon asked, "Is that where Merlin is?" It was easy to hear the concern in his voice; like everyone in Camelot, he was fond of the improper servant.

Arthur's mouth was set in a grim line, mostly to stop himself from getting his hopes up, but also due to the cogs that were turning in his brain. How were they going to get in there? "I think so." He felt euphoric relief, and his brain was almost fuzzy with joy, but he had to force himself to focus so that he could plan how they were going to rescue Merlin. "We should wait until it is dark to get any closer. We don't want to risk Morgana catching sight of us."

Gwaine hopped down from his mount. "If we went quickly enough, we could take her by surprise, dark or not," he suggested. "Even if we go by foot."

"I want to rescue Merlin as much as you do, Gwaine, but we need to do this right. We only have one chance to get Merlin out of that place and save him from Morgana. We can't mess it up." Arthur gestured towards the barren land around them. "There's no cover, and if Morgana takes Merlin elsewhere, we may never find him."

"Fine," Gwaine huffed. "Let's plan." He threw himself onto the floor, leg twitching impatiently. "Hurry up about it, though." The other knights exchanged looks with their king, one that clearly said, 'he's going to be a pain to deal with now.'

Merlin could feel his resolve breaking with every snap of the bones in his fingers. Each time a bone broke in half with a loud, unbelievably painful crack, Merlin couldn't stop himself from crying out. It had only been shouts of pain so far, but he didn't know how long it would take before he was blurting out what Morgana wanted to know.

He knew from Gaius that there were many bones in the fingers, and even more in the hand; if she moved on, he definitely wouldn't be able to cling onto the desperate thought of 'don't give in' that he had. He had broken a finger before, when he had decided to try and stop a tree from collapsing with his bare hands – the panic had made him forget that he could simply use his magic – but the bone was only fractured that time. This time, the bones were physically snapping in two.

He had suffered so much pain at her hands and this was possibly the last straw. He had never imagined that broken fingers could be so torturously painful, especially when each one was broken one by one, slowly and skilfully.

Thank the Gods Morgana was on the last finger. When she had run her own slender, pale fingers down his, she suddenly pulled harshly at the magic that surrounded her in a cloud and there was a pop as the bone slid out of place, and then a snap as she twisted the finger back.

Merlin screamed out, but managed to restrain himself from leaking the secret that Morgana wanted to know so badly. It would stop the pain, but at what cost? She might kill him, but that wasn't Merlin's main concern – he was more worried that he wouldn't be able to protect Arthur anymore.

"Pathetic," Morgana snarled. Merlin hardly noticed – she had insulted him so many times now it was like water rolling off a duck's back. It went straight into one ear and out of the other, because he no longer bothered to listen. He heard, but he didn't listen.

She stalked out of the cell, leaving Merlin to his own devices. He curled up on the floor, cradling his hands together against his stomach, whimpering in pain. He was going to crack soon, he knew he was. It had come on very suddenly, this urge to break. One moment he was confident that he would never tell Morgana anything, but the next second, he just wanted all of the pain and anguish to stop. And he very badly wanted his magic back.

It was too dark in his cell to see anything, not even his own body, so Merlin resigned himself to sleep. He had tried to escape so many times already, and he was weary. This was it; he was giving up. He would wait until the next morning when Morgana came back, and when she asked, "Ready to talk?" as she always did, he would say 'yes' and beg her to stop this torture. Then he would tell her his biggest secret, and damn the consequences. His brain had melted.

He hated this – he hated that he had to give up everything, and Morgana would kill him probably, or try to convince him to join her side, but that didn't matter. He hadn't seen Arthur for a long time, and had convinced himself that all that Arthur said about accepting his magic was just a lie. All of the knights hated him, that was quite obvious. That was why they had not come to rescue him.

Gwaine was restless for the rest of the day, and in the end he mounted his horse and rode a wide circle around them, making everyone dizzy except for himself. Even his horse was disorientated by the end of it and staggered off to find the others. They had made a plan and discussed it over and over again until everyone was sick of hearing it, but Arthur was now becoming more and more nervous by the second.

What if something went wrong and they couldn't find Merlin? Or if Morgana had already done something truly dreadful? Or if Morgana killed all of them and then went back to doing whatever she was doing to Merlin? Arthur shuddered at the thought of someone so much as laying their hands on Merlin.

He found himself watching the sun as it sunk lower and lower into the sky, waiting and waiting for night to fall. He busied himself with stupid tasks, like making sure the horses were securely tied to the small plant stumps they had found and inspecting his sword to make sure it was sharp enough for whatever dangers lay ahead. He even took off his boots at one point and checked them for holes, as if that would impair him in anyway whatsoever.

Finally, after what seemed to Arthur like centuries, the sun had completely disappeared underneath the horizon and the sky was beginning to darken. They were fortunate that there was no moonlight that night, as the moon itself was hidden behind several black, gloomy clouds, and whatever light the stars might have thrown out was extinguished for the same reason. It was almost as if the world was trying to assist them.

"It is time," Arthur said in a low voice. He stood up and withdrew his sword, checking one last time that his horse was secured and taking a swig from his water skin. "Merlin is in there. And this is our one chance; does everybody remember the plan?" The knights surrounding him all nodded, looking just as solemn as he felt. "Then we attack. And we save Merlin."

A/N: So this story is probably going to be over soon, as the knights are just heading in - will they succeed? Who knows? - and I am, of course, planning a sequel to this story, involving caring for Merlin etc. If you have any ideas of what you'd like to see if the next instalment, start telling me now and I'll work it all in! Love you all xxx