Battle Scars (Merlin)

Chapter 3

So, here it is! A grand total of people that have now put this onto a story alert is 118, and 38 people have added to favourites. Obviously, I can't name them, there's too many, but thanks to all of you. Let's try and get them even higher, eh? Thank you to destiny's time, who added this to the community "TheBestFanfiction" on FF.N. At least, I assume it was destiny's time as she's the moderator. If it isn't then I don't know, but thank you, whoever did it!

"Where are we going exactly?" Leon calls to Arthur, who's riding his own horse up at the front, leading his knights on their mission.

"The forest. There are meant to be bandits around there." Arthur points to the greenery in front of him.

"What are we going to do when we get there?" Gwaine shouts from the back, next to Merlin.

"Find the bandits. Arrest or, if we have to, kill them. Well, we'll fight them: Merlin will just stand there looking useless." The knights laugh at the dig, knowing Arthur didn't mean it seriously but unusually, Merlin doesn't laugh along with them. He's staring into space, but at the same time he looks utterly focusing on riding.

"Merlin?" Gwaine says uncertainly. "Merlin?" He prods Merlin in the arm, none too gently, and Merlin starts and looks around, his eyes finally settling on Gwaine. "Arthur insulted you. Thought you'd want to know."

Merlin nods and Gwaine leaves it at that. The others send unsaid messages through their eyes to each other as Merlin continues to ride like he is a ghost. The knights carry on, thinking maybe he just feels tired after training, and Arthur's ruthlessness. Even as Gwaine turns to looks at Merlin again he can see a large lump, probably when Arthur knocked him over. But Merlin doesn't seem to want to talk so Gwaine joins in with the other knights. Every so often he turns his head to check on Merlin and each time his friend seems to be making an effort to keep awake. Tired, then,Gwaine thinks. Nothing more.

"Stop!" Arthur calls a little while later. He jumps off his horse and the others do likewise, although Gwaine has to nudge Merlin and tell him to get off his horse before he dismounts slowly, wincing as his side catches on the stirrups. He feels dizzy and nearly trips once or twice, but each time Gwaine manages to catch his arm. Gwaine now knows there's something wrong; he'd have to be a fool or incredibly drunk not to notice that. And he knows what incredibly drunk feels like, and he's not. What he can't figure out is what. They reach the edge of the cliff and Merlin leans forward to look over the edge, hastily drawing back when dizziness threatens to make him pitch head first over the top.

"I think they're down there," Arthur muses, crouched down, his hands just curling over the edge. Merlin looks behind him and even in his pain cracks a joke, "I think not." The shouts of the bandits behind them begin a second later and Arthur turns sharply, drawing his sword ready for a fight. But he can tell they're overwhelmed. It takes him a split second to think and shout his order, "Run!"

The knights, luckily, are used to his abrupt commands and are well adjusted to sprint at half a second's notice. So they do so, pulling their swords out as they run. Merlin's getting dizzier and dizzier; his mind's spinning and he can't see straight. He runs, not actually aware of where he's going. He follows Arthur blindly and hopes for the best. But his head's throbbing and the cut in his side's opened up again and it's becoming more and more painful every stride he takes. He feels the blood trickle out of the bandage, the pressure not enough and in the end he collapses against a tree, breathing heavily and keeping low to the ground. The knights don't notice - they were a long way in front anyway. Luckily for him, none of the bandits notice him either. Apart from one; but Merlin uses the last of his strength to cast an enchantment that sends him reeling backwards. When he finally gets up again, he runs past Merlin, and the others follow suit.

Merlin scrabbles at the wound, lifting his shirt up and gasping at the sight of the blood soaked linen. No, no, no, he's bleeding too much. Bad, very bad, very very very bad. And it won't stop. Blood keeps running down his stomach in rivets and he can't stop it, not even when he presses his hands against it. His last panicked thought is, I'm going to die, and then he passes out.

Thanks to all those who commented and favourited and alerted. I will thank you personally, but I've only just discovered how to get the list up of all those who have and my email spammed all of those so I didn't know who did before.