Chapter Eight: A Warlock of Two Masters

Arthur strode through the darkened halls confidently but cautiously. If Merlin was still nearby where Gwil had taken them before, then he should be getting close. On the other hand, finding Merlin probably meant encountering more guards. The king's grip tightened on his stolen sword, all his pent-up rage from the last few days churning in his stomach and broiling in his blood. He almost hoped he ran into Gwil on the way.

He heard shuffling feet around the next corner, and tensed in anticipation. But it wasn't Gwil or a guard who turned the corner.

"Merlin?"

Arthur felt sick just looking at him. Merlin's skin was deathly pale, and he swayed unsteadily, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. Patches of his jacket and even parts of his shirt had been burned straight through so Arthur could see raw, scarred flesh underneath. But worst of all were his eyes, dulled and almost lifeless. As if Merlin had lost the will to live.

"Merlin," Arthur repeated in disbelief, stepping towards him. Merlin's breath hitched, and he raised his hands in front of himself threateningly. His sleeves slid up and Arthur could see bubbling burns wrapped around his wrists as if he were still bound.

"Stay back," Merlin warned. Although the rest of him looked weak, his voice came in strong. "I'm taking Arthur and we're leaving and you can't stop me."

Arthur lowered his sword and held out his free hand. "Merlin—"

"Move," Merlin said coldly. His palms glowed.

Behind Merlin, Gwil turned the corner, stopping just behind Merlin's shoulder. His eyes landed on Arthur and lit up. "Ah. So you managed to escape. Too late, I'm afraid. Well, we can test him out here just as well as in the cell, I suppose. Oh, this is going to be fun."

Alarmed, Arthur raised his sword again and rushed forward. "Behind you!"

Merlin's eyes flashed gold and Arthur was slammed back into the wall with a shout. His sword clattered to the floor.

"Very good, Merlin," Gwil said. "Looks like I was right to let you live."

Arthur staggered, trying to ignore the way his head was spinning. "Merlin, what are you doing?"

"Fulfilling his destiny," Gwil informed him delightedly. "Protecting the Once and Future King. Me."

Arthur stared in horror at Merlin, who looked utterly defeated. Then the king reached for his hair, the truth dawning on him. "The hair…you made him think you're me."

"Who do you think you are, questioning the king of Camelot? The king of Albion?" said Gwil with a smirk that confirmed all of Arthur's suspicions.

"What have you done to him?"

"Nothing. He's the one who's sworn to protect me. My own personal pet guard dog." He put a hand on Merlin's bad shoulder and squeezed possessively. "Or should I say, pet warlock."

Merlin flinched, and Arthur seethed. He bent to retrieve his blade. "I'll kill you."

Merlin adjusted himself so that his body was fully blocking Gwil from Arthur. "No! If you're going to kill him, you'll have to kill me first."

Gwil peeked around Merlin's shoulder, grinning wickedly at Arthur. "Finish him off, Merlin. Your king commands you."

Merlin extended his palm out, straight at Arthur.

"Merlin, stop!" Arthur cried desperately. He dropped his sword and raised his hands in surrender. "Listen to me. You're…enchanted or something. He did something to you. It's me."

The glow collecting in Merlin's palm and in his eyes faded, and the warlock blinked. "Ar…Arthur? But I…"

"What are you doing, you imbecile?" Gwil snapped. "I gave you an order. Now kill him!"

Merlin hesitated, blinking hard in confusion at the real Arthur. "But he's…but you're…"

"I'm starting to fear you're not as loyal to me as you claimed. Kill the imposter, sorcerer, or I'll keep you somewhere worse than the dungeons when we return to Camelot."

"You'll do what?" Arthur said, words dripping with quiet rage.

"Ak…" Merlin trailed off. He was trembling, staring at Arthur with almost, but not quite, recognition. "Akwe…"

Arthur felt a burst of hope. Merlin was fighting whatever Gwil had done to him, even if he didn't realize it. He had to get through to him somehow.

The king swallowed hard, and slowly lowered himself onto his knees, hands still up in surrender. "Merlin," Arthur said, his voice breaking. "Please. I'm your friend. I understand why you lied, and I forgive you. I am so sorry. I swear, you will never have to live in fear again."

Merlin stared back at him, tears falling freely down his face. "That's…That's everything I ever wanted to hear you say."

Arthur's heart leapt. He'd gotten through to him!

But then Merlin's gaze hardened. "And Gwil knows that. The real Arthur would never say that."

Arthur recoiled as if Merlin had physically punched him. "Merlin, no, I…"

"Bael onbryne! Akwele!"

Arthur rolled as enormous fireballs scorched the ground where he'd been less than a second before. He barely had time to recover before he was forced to dodge another blast. He bolted without any destination in mind besides away from the flames Merlin launched after him, licking at his heels, sending sparks flying as it hit the wall directly behind him.

Merlin was trying to kill him.

Merlin was trying to kill him.

Because Merlin was trying to protect him. Even when he thought Arthur was treating him like dirt.

Maybe he had.

His heart galloping in his chest, Arthur screeched to a halt as a wall of fire cut off his way forward. With another quick blast, Merlin blocked his way backward as well.

Surrounded by flames on his sides and the wall at his back, Arthur turned to face Merlin, who stood with hands outstretched, eyes blazing gold. The king gasped smoke-filled breaths as he felt the crackling heat on his face. He was going to die without a sword in his hand, die in a fiery inferno, burned like the countless sorcerers his father had put to death. Like Merlin would have been.

Suddenly, Merlin's golden gaze jerked upwards. Arthur didn't have time to see what he was looking at before the wall and ceiling collapsed on him, pummeling the breath straight from his lungs as he fell to the floor in a mess of dirt, stones, and rubble. Something landed hard on his leg, and he screamed soundlessly, choking on dust.

When the collapse stopped, Arthur moaned. Sharp pain spiraled up his leg, and he wasn't sure if he could move his toes. Of course, buried as he was up to his chest, he couldn't move much else right now either.

He coughed on more dust before he looked up to see Merlin looming over him, hand pointed directly at his face.

For a long moment, Arthur and Merlin both looked at each other, Arthur shaking with pain and waiting for death, Merlin standing tall and impassive.

But then, Merlin lowered his hand, and his golden eyes dimmed back to a familiar blue, although their usual brightness was dimmed by despair.

"This way, my lord," Merlin said quietly as he strode away from Arthur.

Arthur stared up at the warlock's retreating back incredulously. Merlin had spared him. Why? Did he realize who he was attacking?

Gwil, who had been watching this entire exchange with utter glee, looked as surprised as Arthur. He glared at Merlin furiously. "Well? Aren't you going to kill him?"

Merlin's voice sounded lost as he shuffled around the rubble. "This…doesn't feel right. And we need to get out of here—"

"I'll decide what feels right, sorcerer! I want him dead!"

"Something's telling me we shouldn't…Besides, he can't hurt us, and the exit's close; I can feel it. We should leave before more guards come—"

"I give the orders!" Gwil spat. "And I want him dead!"

Merlin flinched as Gwil pointed his sword at him. "No, Arthur, this isn't you, you don't want to be like this—"

"And who are you to tell me what to do, sorcerer?" Gwil demanded. "I want him dead, do you hear me? I want him to pay. I want him to writhe on the floor at my feet. I want him to suffer for all the trouble he's caused me. Now kill him!"

Merlin bowed his head, sucked in a deep breath, and took the smallest of steps forward. "Arthur, you're better than this. I know you're better than this. Please. Don't throw away everything you've become. Don't let your hatred consume you. Don't be like Uther—"

Arthur saw the punch coming, and he knew Merlin did too. Merlin simply made no attempt to move out of the way as Gwil's fist connected with his cheek.

"Merlin!" Arthur yelled instinctively as the warlock hit the ground. Arthur reached out towards him, but he was still pinned under a mound of rubble. The movement sent a fresh jolt of pain up his leg.

Merlin rolled onto his side but did not rise. One hand gently touched the new bruise already darkening on his pale skin.

Arthur didn't think about Gwil stepping toward him or the blade glinting in the fading fires. All he saw were Merlin's eyes, empty and devoid of all hope.

Arthur looked into those eyes and said firmly, "Merlin, I am not my father."

He saw Merlin's eyes flicker before Gwil stepped in front of him. The king craned his neck to look up as the sword swung down at him.

"Obrinde, cume mec."

An invisible rope yanked Arthur out from under the rubble like a tablecloth yanked out from under a stack of dishes. He zoomed straight between Gwil's legs with a cry of pain, only stopping when he collided with Merlin.

Gwil's sword planted in the rubble where Arthur's head had been a moment earlier, making the alchemist overbalance. The room trembled at the impact as the already unsteady section of the cave collapsed even further and swallowed Gwil in an onslaught of stones and dirt.

Gritting his teeth with pain, Arthur pushed himself over Merlin to shield him from the collapsing ceiling. Dust rained down upon them, but the ceiling itself did not crumble completely.

Arthur pulled away, keeping his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin."

Merlin didn't respond, still staring past him at where Gwil had vanished, as if not quite comprehending what had just happened.

Arthur shook him gently. "Merlin?"

Merlin's eyes snapped towards him, and they were filled with terror. "Ar-Arthur?…Arthur, please, I'm sorry I lied, I…please don't kill—"

"Merlin, I could never kill you. You're like the brother I never had."

"But…But I lied. I lied to you for years…"

"I know." Arthur swallowed. "I understand. I forgive you."

In response, Merlin shoved him away, rolled over onto his hands and knees, and vomited all over the floor. Arthur flinched, then after a long moment awkwardly patted his back, waiting for him to finish.

When the sorcerer—warlock, Gwil had called him, he'd have to ask about that later—was done, there was a black goo all over the stone, pulsing like a dark heartbeat.

"What is that?" Arthur demanded, as Merlin pushed himself away from…whatever it was.

"Poison," Merlin said, chest still heaving, "Whatever he gave me, mostly, I think, plus exposure to all that smoke…Oh, my head…Arthur, are you alright?"

"Am I—Am I alright?!" Arthur repeated incredulously.

Merlin squinted at him. "It…It is you, right? Yes. It has to be you, the poison's gone, my head's clear, it has to be you, please let it be you…I think I almost killed you. Oh, fie, I almost killed you, you must hate me, you do hate me…"

"Merlin? Merlin, I told you, I don't hate you, alright? Just…calm down. Shut up and calm down…"

Merlin nodded, still muttering to himself. "Yes. Him. Found the prat. Has to be. Get outside…Arthur, we've got to get outside."

Arthur shut his eyes and tried to flex his toes. The motion made him bite back a scream. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He wasn't going to be going anywhere.

"Alright, Merlin, listen to me. I can't walk—"

"What do you mean you can't—"

"—So you're going to have to leave me here and get yourself out. I want you to run away from here as fast as you can."

But Merlin had stopped listening about halfway through. "Your leg. What…Did I…"

Arthur grimaced. "Crushed in the cave-in. You know, if you were trying to kill me, you did a very shoddy job."

"Arthur, I—"

Arthur waved a hand. "So if you won't listen to me as a king, then listen to me as a friend and please, just go. Save yourself."

Merlin pursed his lips and crawled over to look at Arthur's leg. "No, don't be thick. I'm not leaving. Protect you or die at your side."

"But I don't want you to d—AAUGH!"

"Sorry, sorry!" said Merlin hastily, removing his hand from Arthur's leg. He hesitated a moment. "And…and sorry about this. Ic haele thina throwunga, gehalge."

Merlin's eyes flashed gold. Before Arthur could say anything else, he shouted as he felt his leg snap. Then Merlin's hand was on his face, and he was whispering more words, and Arthur tried to jerk away—

Merlin's hand rested on his shoulder as gold faded to blue. "You alright?" he said worriedly.

"I…Yeah." Arthur curled his toes in amazement. His leg hadn't snapped; it had snapped back together. And the dull pain that had been radiating through his head since Trent had hit him had vanished.

"Oh, good. Glad that worked. I'm usually rubbish at healing spells."

"You, rubbish at something? I'm not surprised."

Merlin grinned and actually laughed, the kind of unhinged laugh that Arthur recognized. The same kind of laugh he himself had laughed after he slayed the Great Dragon, borne of relief, exhaustion, and hysteria.

Arthur thought of how bizarre all this was—Merlin, fixing him with magic after magically throwing fire at him—and started to laugh too. It was just so absurd and they'd both almost died and this was all ridiculous.

Merlin's laughs had just started to turn to sobs when he pitched forward, and Arthur lunged to catch him.

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, panic edging into his voice.

"Sorry…sorry…I'm a bit…"

"Are you injured?" Immediately Arthur realized what a stupid question that was—Merlin was covered with burns and bruises and blood and who knew what else.

"Sort of…my magic's…Can't believe I'm talking to you about this…"

"What do you mean 'sort of'?"

"I think my magic's injured. The chains were sort of…crushing it and…We need to get outside."

Arthur could tell Merlin was avoiding the subject, but he also knew he was right. Guards could be by any second. He quickly got to his feet, then pulled Merlin up.

Merlin swayed, but did not fall. His eyes were fixed on some unseeable point in the distance, and lit up gold.

Arthur, who had neither the time nor energy to fathom what Merlin was doing, hurried over to the mound of rubble and prodded the pile with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" asked Merlin, apparently returned from his magical…whatever.

"The sword…" Where had he dropped the blasted thing? He needed something to defend them with.

A hand burst from the rubble and snatched his wrist. Instantly, Merlin's hand was on Arthur's shoulder, yanking him away and out of reach.

Both men watched in horror as Gwil's head emerged, spitting dirt and screaming, "Guards! GUARDS!"

"Merlin, shut him up, shut him up!"

"Bebyrge!"

Dirt slid to cover Gwil back up, but it was too late. Arthur could hear the stomp of approaching boots.

Merlin tugged Arthur away from the rubble. "Arthur, we have to go—"

"We'll never outrun them! I need a sword!"

Merlin shoved Arthur in front of him down the hall. "That's what I'm for, you prat, now run."

"You're not in any condition to fight," Arthur protested.

Merlin proved his point a moment later by collapsing. Arthur wrenched him back to his feet.

"Just…get…outside." Merlin begged.

"Fine, but you're coming with me—"

"Astrice!" Merlin shouted as three guards blocked their path. All three men went flying, but Arthur didn't bother waiting to see if they got back up again. He wrapped Merlin's arm around his shoulders. Leaning on each other, they both staggered down the hall, fighting their way through mercenaries. Or at least, Merlin fought. Arthur just concentrated on half-carrying, half-dragging Merlin down the hall.

"Forp fleoge—Door—that way—" Merlin gasped. His face was almost gray. Even the gold in his eyes didn't seem quite as bright as it had been before.

It didn't even matter, Arthur wanted to scream at him. Just because they set foot outside didn't mean the guards would stop pursuing or that they'd be any less dead when the guards reached them. But without a weapon, there wasn't anything else he could do except keep Merlin standing, keep Merlin fighting, all the while watching as Merlin's spells grew less and less effective, as his head struggled to stay up. Soon he was not uttering any words at all, although the men chasing them bounced away when they got too close.

"Almost there, Merlin, just hold on…"

At last, Arthur spotted what looked like the set of stairs leading up, guarded by a line of men armed with crossbows. He didn't even pause, just charged straight towards them, Merlin in tow.

Sure enough, although Merlin didn't utter a word, all the arrows spun around in midair and flew back at the men who shot them. The door at the top of the stairs popped open at Arthur's touch, and Arthur was blinded for a moment by the light of the setting sun—

Merlin stumbled over the threshold and went crashing down, bringing Arthur down with him. Letting loose a growl of frustration, Arthur hauled them both back upright and away from the hovel hiding the cavern.

Merlin's eyes were barely open and his feet were barely running, so Arthur almost dropped him in surprise when Merlin suddenly let loose a loud, guttural bellow.

"O drakon! Boedromee, oxupetes! Hupeksaoe Artur, abaskantos! Soe koiranos, soe Artur, soe hee!"

And with that, Merlin's eyes rolled into his head, and his legs finally gave out.

Arthur tripped over Merlin's suddenly limp legs and went sprawling. He spared a glance back to see the swarm of guards pouring out of the door, and his heart sank. He'd assumed a spell of the length Merlin had just uttered would have done something drastic, but apparently nothing had happened. And now the warlock was too drained to fight, just dead weight.

Arthur gritted his teeth. Well, he'd keep the "dead" part untrue, at least, for as long as possible. Dragging Merlin along from under the armpits, Arthur half-ran, half-crawled away as fast as he could towards the shelter of the trees a short distance away. But he didn't get very far before his own legs collapsed from underneath him, the days without food or water finally taking their toll.

He shoved himself between his friend and the dozen mercenaries a stone's throw away and for the thousandth time wished he had a sword. He had maybe twenty more seconds to live, and he intended to spend every one of them defending Merlin.

A shadow passed over them, blotting out the shrinking sun, and fire rained down from the heavens.

Wondering if he was already dead, Arthur shielded his eyes and looked up.

A dragon—a dragon—was descending from the sky, eyes glittering with golden wrath as it roared.

Arthur threw himself over Merlin, trying to shield his friend from as much of the flames as possible and covering his own face as the dragon scorched the earth black.

Heat crackled at the back of his neck. He heard mercenaries screaming as they roasted where they stood and braced himself to be cooked alive.

But the last scream faded, and Arthur heard the gentle flapping of wings. He cracked his eyes open to see if it was safe to move.

The dragon landed next to him, looking down its long snout at him as if it had encountered a bug in its soup.

"Climb on," the dragon ordered tersely in human speech.

Arthur clung to Merlin, unwilling to budge from his spot between his friend and this new threat.

"I'm waiting, Pendragon."

Arthur's hand reached reflexively at an absent sword. "Stay—Stay away from him," he said hoarsely.

The dragon huffed through its enormous nostrils. "I have orders to rescue you, and I will follow them. Whether you cooperate or not is up to you."

"…Orders?"

"The warlock," the dragon added.

Arthur's grip on Merlin tightened. "You'll have to kill me before you touch him."

"Do not speak of that which you do not understand!" the dragon snarled.

"Explain it, then!" Arthur demanded with a touch of hysteria. He was arguing with a dragon. How was he not dead? He wondered if he had actually gone mad. Maybe he had hit his head again, one time too many. Maybe he was still locked up and Merlin wasn't magic and a dragon was not actually talking to him.

Suddenly, the dragon reared its head with a roar that seemed to make the very earth tremble. But the dragon was not looking at Arthur.

The king followed the dragon's gaze to the other end of the clearing, and his throat went dry. "Morgana?"

Morgana gawked at the dragon open-mouthed before her gaze landed on Arthur. The two siblings stared at each other for a moment before Morgana noticed Merlin in Arthur's arms. For a split second, she looked bewildered, almost vulnerable at the sight of him. Then her whole face lit up with fury and sudden understanding. "EMRYS!" she shrieked.

The wind swirled with thunderous force as Morgana advanced towards them, her mouth curled up in a snarl and her eyes like two burning pyres in the fading light.

Arthur weighed his options, and hurriedly dragged Merlin onto the dragon. The beast hurled fire in Morgana's direction, but she dissipated the flames harmlessly with a wave as she screeched harsh syllables Arthur didn't understand.

He had barely wrapped the arm not clinging to Merlin around one of the spikes on the dragon's back when the dragon took to the air.

The ground rushed away from them, the dragon's powerful wings beat in a steady rhythm, and Arthur could think of few times when he'd been this utterly paralyzed with terror.

A bolt of red light shot towards them, and the dragon curved elegantly to avoid it. Arthur lost his grip on the dragon and nearly slid off, bringing Merlin down with him. Lurching desperately, he locked his arms in a hug around both Merlin and the spike. Merlin's head lolled on his shoulder as Arthur squeezed his eyes shut.

Morgana's shrieks echoed in his ears as the dragon flew them into the darkening sky.

A/N: I know it may look like we're getting to the end now that they've escaped. BUT WE'RE NOT. This is actually the halfway-ish point, believe it or not. Now we get to the real story. There is still much more adventure to come!

Old English / Spells
Bael onbryne! Akwele! = On burning fire! Destroy!
bebyrge=bury
Forp fleoge= fly forth
Obrinde, cume mec = Bring in, come to me.
Gehalge = Heal together.
Ic haele thina throwunga = I cure your sufferings.

Ancient Greek / Dragonspeak
O drakon = O dragon
boēdromee = run to a cry of aid, hasten to help.
oxupetēs = flying speedily
hupeksaoe = save from under/ rescue
abaskantos = secure against enchantments, free from harm
soe = save/preserve
koiranos = king
hee = him

O drakon! Boedromee, oxupetes! Hupeksaoe Artur, abaskantos! Soe koiranos, soe Artur, soe hee!
O dragon! Hasten to help, fly speedily! Rescue Arthur, free him from harm/secure him against enchantments. Save the king, save Arthur, save him!

Greek improved thanks to Leahelisabeth.