A/N:

Miracles do happen, I am on time again.

Enjoy!

Ilandrae

Disclaimer: Don't own Merlin

CHAPTER 36 – JUST AS CHAOTIC

Hengist's Fortress – ART POV

After dragging Art to his feet, Mel had planted herself just in front of the prince's elbow. But Art was strangely calm while he stared down Ceador, even as the apprentice struck out at them just as quickly as Diara had lashed out at Merlin—it seemed he'd learnt his lesson after gloating in Camelot. However, between Mel's magical sword and Art's instinctive shields, their defence was sound.

Camelot.

The last time Art had seen this sorcerer he'd been forced to cower behind the knights, too fearful to use his magic in case he hurt others or was discovered. But now, he had another chance. Another chance to defeat the person who had caused his city and his people harm.

Art blocked a rush of flame heading for Mel which Ceador had surged from a nearby torch. He liked to copy Diara the prince noted, like he didn't trust his own judgement. But in the moments after, Mel seized the opportunity to lunge towards the sorcerer. Ceador dodged back, hissing as the tip of Mel's blade scored a crimson line down his arm.

Anger flickered in Ceador's eyes, and he murmured a few words under his breath. Art readied his magic. Hissing filled the air as the ground quaked and countless snakes slithered out of every crack and crevice. Mel yelped as one slithered over her foot, barely managing to deflect a sword that Ceador sent towards Art. Art was too busy staring at the snakes. Seeing their bulging red eyes and black scaley bodies with white diamonds spotting down the long length of their slithery spines. Even as he regained his senses and redirected a piece or rubble that had been careening towards Mel, Art yanked his foot out from another snake.

But despite the chaos, his magic itched. Something about the reptiles wasn't quite right. And much to his later disappointment, it was Mel who figured it out. The girl stepped close to him, hissing over the ringing accompaniment of the creatures.

"They aren't attacking Princeling. Are they even real?"

No.

They weren't.

Art should have known earlier when no one else reacted. Merlin still fought Diara, pushing her into a wall, and Bedivere and Leon were steadfastly working their way through the soldiers towards Elyon's cage. Art kicked himself for not seeing it. Just like Marcus' illusions, the snakes weren't real.

That decided, Art pushed forward once again. Mel sensed his resolve, stepping back to let him take the lead. The prince leant into his magic, letting it take the shape off his thoughts. Ceador's eyes narrowed but Art knew that he'd have no time to craft spells in his mind. The apprentice had little hope to match the speed at which Art was able to cast instinctively. With a flash of gold vines erupted from the ground ensnaring the sorcerer. Ceador tried to burn them away, but Art extinguished his fire with a firm gust of wind not even noticing that all the snakes had disappeared. The same wind continued to batter the young sorcerer, kicking dust and debris into his eyes. Enough so that he didn't see the large paver be lifted up above them. The first Ceador knew of it was when the stone crashed into his head. Then he knew nothing.

Art released the magic and watched the unconscious sorcerer slump to the ground.

He blinked. Surprised at himself for what he had managed to do.

"NO!"

Art reeled around at the sound of Merlin's yell.

The older warlock was rushing towards a glowing Diara. Her skin emitting a bright orange hue. Art felt the heat she was generating from where he stood across the room. He saw Leon and Bedivere dispatch the last of the soldiers. But while Leon lunged for Elyon, Bedivere rushed towards his master.

"Sir! You can't! It's too late!"

"Hells I can't!" Merlin reached the girl. "I will not let a child die in front of me!"

Art could only watch as Merlin reached Diara. The girl seemed lost to the magic, unaware when Merlin caught her collapsing body.

Cradling her, Merlin pressed his hand to her forehead, speaking words of the old language that Art didn't recognise. Merlin's eyes were solid coins of gold when he finished, and Art's master was gritting his teeth. Bedivere made to reach out, as if to pull Diara from Merlin's arms but he stopped at the last moment, as if realising that breaking their connection halfway through would be catastrophic.

Because that's what it would be.

"What is Emrys doing?" Mel asked him. No doubt feeling as helpless as him.

"The witch tried to use more magic than she can." Art's heart clenched. That could be any of them if they weren't careful. "It started to burn her from the inside out. She's would have killed herself. Most likely us too from the fallout."

Merlin had warned Art about such things. That while he was strong, there's always a limit. Even for Merlin. Which was why he got the beating from Myara and Alice several months ago.

"I think Merlin is siphoning some of her magic away," Art continued still not able to look away from where Merlin was chanting his words. "But even he can only hold so much."

Indeed, Merlin's face had started to twist in pain. But he took a deep breath and gasped, "Nearly there." As if to tell his friends not to worry.

And just as Art was trying to determine if Merlin had started to glow as well, his master reefed his hand from Diara. He threw her into Bedivere's waiting arms and slammed both his palms into the ground. Art sensed him release a good portion of the magic inside him into the earth as his eyes returned to their normal blue. Next to Art a plant that had been crisped in their battle greened once more.

But they weren't done yet.

"Art. Here. Now."

Art reacted instantly to his master's words, knees nearly slamming into the stones in his rush.

"She needs healing Art," Merlin said, still grimacing.

"Wh-"

"I'm not stable Art," Merlin cut him off, "and healing is not my strong suit. You have to do it."

Indeed, on closer inspection Art still saw highlights of gold in his master eyes. Merlin's stave had also been thrown to the side and the warlock had his hands clenched into fists, as if stopping him from reaching for it. Art shared one last glance with Bedivere, remembering the last time Merlin had asked him to do something.

Merlin does not place his trust lightly. He's been through too much for him to trust easily. If he says you can do it. You'd better do it

Art turned his attention to Diara, casting his magic out and over her body. Sensing. Feeling. Finding what wasn't right. He examined her, remembering what Merlin had said. Emotions had no place in healing. Just get the job done.

I forced himself not to bawk when he sensed the damage. Her blood had near about been boiling. He thought of the herbs he'd need. Some to calm her magic, others to speed up healing. But he had none of it. Only an excessive amount of magic boiling beneath his knees. His eyes snapped up.

"Cloak," the prince commanded Merlin who didn't hesitate in ripping his heavy cloak off. A cloak that had traversed countless lands and magical places.

And had never been washed once.

The prince shook the clothing, dislodging every last seed, stem and twig that had worn its way into the fabric.

With the saturated magic that Merlin had pumped into the ground, it only took a little trickle of magic through the plants for every single one to green, grow roots, sprout and mature.

Then it was simple. He gathered the plants he needed, crushing them into a paste that he put in Diara's mouth. Not knowing the exact spell, he sent his magic forth, calming her own power and repairing her internal injuries. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, his hands stretched out over her. But it seemed it was enough time for Ceador to regain consciousness.

Diara's eyes fluttered open and the next thing Art knew the girl had been ripped from Bedivere's arms and from his magical reach. Ceador floated her behind him as he ran out the door.

Ignoring him Art rushed towards Mel who was pulling herself up off the floor rubbing a bleeding head.

"That hurt," she winced as she touched her forehead, then looked to where the sorcerer and the witch had disappeared to. "I'm sorry. I should've been watching him."

"No." Merlin had appeared at her side just as quick as Art. "As long as you're ok. Let me see." He inspected her head wound. "Art, had you finished healing Diara?"

Art nodded. "Maybe not completely, but enough."

Art was still unsure why Merlin had insisted they heal her. Some may say they might regret it later. But Art wasn't sure he would have been able to do anything but heal her. Even if Merlin hadn't asked him.

Merlin nodded, relief smoothing his features, and handed Mel to Art to look at her wound. Then the warlock turned to Elyon, who was surprisingly unharmed and looking wide eyed at them all.

"Sir Elyon," Merlin grinned with a small bow, "welcome back. As you can see, everything is just as chaotic."

Their return journey to Camelot was completed with little issue after meeting the rest of their party outside of the fortress. They'd apparently led the soldiers on a wild chase into the forest, using Maria's magic to trick them into thinking their party was much larger.

The entire journey back Art had glued himself to his Uncle Elyon's side, trying to get every story about his mother as a child from him before she could tell her brother not to.

Was he also trying to distract himself from his mother's likely anger when they returned? Maybe. Art and Mel had snuck out against her wished after all. His most promising hope was that she'd be so overjoyed at seeing Elyon she'd forget that minor detail.

This hope seemed to come to fruition when they returned, Art beamed at his mother's joyous expression. She clutched Elyon fiercely, berating him for being so stupid all those years ago. And from what Art saw she wasn't the only one crying.

But after she finally let her brother go, she clutched both him and Mel tightly. "Good job you two, but we'll talk about this later."

Location Unknown

It wasn't a castle per say. It didn't radiate the same arrogance as those giant heaps of stone. But it had more presence than a fortress, dwarfing any nearby building, not that there were any remaining nearby. There may have been, once. But only the whisper of ash and emptiness lingered after the master of the Citadel had chosen to build there. Even in the midday sun darkness and malice seemed to radiate from the elegant stone walls, making even the rare passer-by give it a wide berth. But anyone that did near… promptly forgot, the wards painted on the stones in deep red making sure none could find it. Not unless its master wanted them to.

And those people usually never left.

"The resurrected knight escaped?"

Two apprentices knelt before their master, their eyes glued to the dark stones beneath their knees. Ceador trembled under his master's gaze while Diara wheezed slightly, each breath accompanied by a slight rattle in her chest.

"Speak."

Ceador started to blubber, "Uncle I sw-"

"Not you." The sorcerer held up and hand a flash of gold flared in the dim light. Ceador's lips were sealed once more. "I don't expect competence from you. But Diara..."

"It was Emrys, Master," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

The master of the Dark Citadel's eye's widened and his fingers gripped the arms of his ornate chair. He smiled, almost forced. "How could that be I wonder?"

But his surprise was quickly replaced with a spark of anticipation and glee. "Oh, that changes things. You would have had no hope again him."

"Master?" a third boy questioned where he stood by the wall. But his master ignored him.

"It seems I might have another chance after all."

A/N:

We are heading into the final arc of Darkness Rising of which there are only three chapters left.

And I am only now realising that this is pretty much the same size as the book I wrote.

Whoops.

I ;)