Chapter Three

The earth below Merlin's hands was dank and smelled of wet and rot. He crawled through the darkness, hopeless of finding a way out, in the oppressive heat. There was no trace of the autumn forest where he had stood only a moment before, when Arthur had shoved him through the doorway.

Selfish, stupid prat! He raged at Arthur's careless action that had thrown him into this dark hell. It was the silly action of a spoiled child, a spoiled prince too arrogant to acknowledge real danger when it was almost upon him. Merlin's questing hands encountered a splash of water.

A pool or a creek. A pool. The water was still as his fingers dropped into it's cool depths. There was no current. Without even an effort, his magic began to flow across the surface of the water from his fingertips, lighting the dank miasma around him.

It hardly helped. Despite the nebulous light, he could see virtually nothing beyond the silver blue circle of the pond. Just as in scrying, visions began to stir in the water. Colors. Sorcerous motes of gold coalesced as shimmering leaves.

Arthur was shouting at the trees, the wind catching his cape as the leaves swirled around him. He looked angry. 'That made sense,' Merlin told himself with a heave of bitterness. The prat had shoved him through a magical doorway, and now he was yelling at the empty wind, as if magic had to pay attention to his stupidity, and make it right. The sheer arrogance of the prince angered him more. Once and Future King, indeed. Destiny!

Maybe this was destiny. Destiny was a miserable dark hole where you could watch the ass who trapped you, walk away and leave you to your fate. Arthur was pounding on the stones of the magical doorway, this blows thundering through the oppressive dark, and to Merlin's shock, as he gazed ever more closely, he realized Arthur was calling his name.

The prince looked shocked as he turned away and began to pace furiously. Merlin knew that look. Arthur was upset, frustrated. He was always dangerous and capricious in this mood; part of Merlin was glad he wasn't there. But his heart smote him as he saw the warrior slowly give way to the man. He watched as Arthur sank slowly against the wall, the shock giving way to a pensive sadness that was completely unfamiliar.

Merlin could not look away ; he watched as emotions flowed unguarded across the prince's face. Emotions he had never guessed at. He saw regret. He saw a complex expression in Arthur's blue eyes; as if some strange happy memory possessed him; as if he was thinking of something that secretly pleased him. Then a bone deep, weary lonliness. And regret. Merlin was astounded. The prince was calling his name again.

But now he had no need to read his master's lips, the emotion that he saw was undeniable. Merlin was split open by revelation and it changed forever how he looked at Arthur Pendragon, for there was a soul aching regret in the prince's every movement, as he struggled up to stand by the doorway. He bowed his head.

He realized they might have been friends.

His head suddenly exploded in a thunderclap of pain. He gasped, his body cramping and trembling as he tingled all over with power, as magic leaped from the pool of visions and threw him hard against the glowing golden ground. Leaves swirled and eddied around him. The air was fresh, and it was night, natural darkness, not the cloying damp obscurity of the doorway.

To his horror,Arthur was unconscious, lying on the ground. His nose was bleeding and the secret warlock was terrified for a moment that the prince was injured. Merlin tried to move toward his friend.

"Arthur," he croaked, "Arthur, can you hear me?" He collapsed, his strength leaving him, as the echo of the thunderclap faded from his awareness. His eyes never left Arthur's face as he reached out to grasp the prince's hand and darkness drowned him.

He never knew if he awoke minutes or hours later, but the morning light was rising from the skyline. To his vast relief,Arthur was rousing, tossing a bit as he always did, before he awoke. Dried blood had flaked off his lip. Merlin smiled, realizing there was no permanent injury. He wondered how he was going to explain what had happened. His heart began to pound as he realized that Arthur might well realize that part of the magic of this strange encounter had been his own. But he could not forget what he had seen. Curiously, he felt deeply thankful.

"Up and at 'em lazy daisy," he drawled, his voice irrepressible with happiness and a rising mischief. Arthur covered his face with his arm and groaned.

"What happened," the prince asked at last, clearing his eyes of sleep as he stretched outrageously on the forest floor, for all the world as if he was in his warm bed at Camelot.

Merlin shrugged.

"Not really sure. But here we are."

Arthur suddenly grinned like a boy, as did Merlin.

"Don't say anything about this place," said Arthur suddenly, to Merlin's deep surprise and relief.

"Fine by me," came the soft reply.

"Let's go home, said Arthur, after a moment, picking up Merlin's pack and handing it to him, as he shouldered one of the other packs himself. Merlin gawped for a second and then swallowed his smile. It twinkled in his eyes anyway.

"Yeah, let's go home."

They turned toward Camelot, walking side by side.

Sometimes the most momentous things begin quietly, so quietly that no one remembers exactly when everything changed. Sometimes it is a moment as unforgettable as finding the fulcrum of fate in some forgotten ruin of magic. By some unspoken agreement, Arthur and Merlin never spoke of the strange doorway in the blazing autumn forest again. They never seriously investigated the intent of the obviously magical structure they had found, and strangely, neither did they ever find it again, although both of them searched for it privately and apart. It remained a mystery.

Unspoken,too vast and too extraordinary to be described, some moments are best held simply, in the silence of memory.