Gasping for breath Merlin crashed through the ice-cold stream and into the dimly lit cave. Gaius was there waiting.
"Merlin," the elderly physician murmured, as he rushed to his friend's side, supportive arm wrapped around trembling shoulders. "What happened?"
"It's ... Arthur ... right ... behind ... very sick," the shorthand message the only thing the exhausted sorcerer could convey.
"Right," Gaius responded, matter of factly. "We must prepare."
Based on his previous examination of Arthur's wound he already knew what they needed. Pulling out a whole plethora of ingredients he set about making the required tinctures and balms, so that by the time Gwaine staggered in with the seriously ill Prince they were ready
Gently lowering Arthur onto a pre-prepared dry leaf bed Gwaine moved swiftly out of Gaius's way.
Merlin crouched alongside the physician ready to provide the necessary assistance.
"How long has he been like this?" Gaius asked.
"About two hours … took me that long to get him out of the castle undetected," Merlin replied.
""That's a tale I can't wait to hear," Elyan murmured, now standing beside Gwaine.
"It will have to wait," Gaius barked, aware that Merlin would need time to make up a plausible explanation for their miraculous escape.
"Let's ease him onto his back," the elderly man suggested. "Lift his head up for me, Merlin so that I can administer some pain relief."
Easing himself behind Arthur, Merlin gently raised the young Prince until his sweat soaked head rested against his chest. Shocked by the heat radiating from his desperately ill master he whispered reassurance as Gaius teased open Arthur's trembling lips, coaxing him to swallow the much needed elixir.
"Now help me turn him," Gaius asked. "I need to take a look at the leg."
Gently rolling the shivering Prince onto his stomach the physician quickly cut away the blood soaked dressing. As he removed the soiled fabric all recoiled at the foul stench emanating from the infected wound.
"It's as I suspected … the poison's still in there … we must get it out before I can continue," Gaius murmured, already placing his knife into the open fire.
Merlin stared incredulously at the rapidly heating blade. He knew form experience what his elderly friend was planning to do – he just wasn't sure that Arthur could withstand it.
"It's time," Gaius advised as he pulled the white-hot knife from the burning embers. "Gwaine, hold his leg for me."
The knight crouched beside his wounded Prince and, as requested, grasped the damaged limb firmly.
"Merlin hold his shoulders … try to keep him as still as possible … this, I can assure you, is going to hurt him."
And then moments later he made the required incision.
Arthur, mercifully still unconscious, cried out - tried to pull away as the sterilised blade sliced through newly closed up flesh. But Merlin held him, whispered words of comfort to him until the task was complete. Gaius placed the knife back into the fire and began pushing together the cleanly cut skin; began pushing out the poison that was slowly killing his Prince.
Finally the flow of green mucus stopped – now only brilliant red blood was escaping from the injured leg. Happy that all of the poison was now gone Gaius reached once more for the re-heated knife.
"Hold him tight," he ordered as in one deliberate move he held the hot metal against the cleaned out wound. The smell of burning flesh filled their nostrils as Gwaine and Merlin held on tightly to their screaming Prince as he fought to escape the torment.
It took only a few seconds, any longer and the physician knew he would cause more damage. Arthur had stilled; had given in to blessed oblivion. Releasing their grip both Merlin and Gwaine stood up from the cold, hard cave floor and looked at one another.
"You okay?" Gwaine asked his young friend.
"Yeah … course," Merlin lied. He wasn't okay and he knew it. He wanted to run from the cave, hide away from the world in the tangle of bushes that surrounded their cold, damp refuge. Only Gaius's next request stopped him from doing just that.
"Pass me the grey pestle please, Merlin," his elderly friend asked.
Handing him the required object the young sorcerer looked on as the physician smeared the thick yellow paste onto the scorched skin, covering it, moments later, with a clean linen bandage.
It was only then that Gaius noticed how fragile Merlin looked; how close to the edge he really was.
"We'll need to change the poultice soon," Gaius advised, loud enough for all to hear. "But we've run out of Yarrow leaves. You know where to look don't you Merlin?"
He nodded eagerly, thank full for the opportunity to escape.
Once outside the cave and out of earshot he stopped, leaned forward and heaved the contents of his stomach onto the forest floor. He fell to his knees, unable to control his trembling body.
He could still hear the Prince's screams; still smell his friend's burning flesh. He threw up again then, the foul taste of puke tainting his mouth forcing him to spit out the rancid remnants.
It was his destiny to protect Arthur – his destiny to protect the future King of Albion - but he'd failed.
x-x-x
Hope this made sense - would really appreciate some feedback please. Next chapter soon.