Chapter One

A Friend Indeed

The ground was cold… hard and unyielding, as the young man cradled the body of his friend to protect him from the elements. They had come so close to salvation. He could not fail at the last hurdle!

Yet he watched in horror as his wounded master's arm fell away, too weak to hold on. No, not master and servant. On this journey they had transcended the customary titles. Over the years, they had become strange friends, and perhaps more. They were two sides of a coin.

Merlin cried his friend's name, feeling a surge of relief as the blue eyes opened once more, but the comfort was fleeting as Arthur's heavy lids closed again.

This was too much! Merlin threw his head back and shouted to the heavens, calling on his last source of aid. He laid his forehead to The King's; was there a faint touch of warmth still emanating from that pale brow?

Merlin concentrated, lending his love and strength to the feeble flame which still flickered within The King's ailing body. After all, this was not just his friend. This was Arthur, the warrior king, and he would not go down to death without one last fight.

The laboured flapping of wings and the thump of a too heavy landing broke into Merlin's thoughts. He set Arthur gently on the wet grass and stood to confront the dragon, valiantly trying to hide his shock at the sight of the once powerful beast. Merlin knew from their last meeting that Kilgarrah was ageing, but now he looked a shadow of the great, mythical being that had for years awed and, at times, intimidated the people of this land. Even Kilgarrah's iridescence had dulled, like a guttering candle.

Sadness threatened to consume him.

But this was wrong. Merlin had been told many times that he was the mightiest of all sorcerers who had ever lived, and, as long as he had a breath left in his body, he would not lose two of his dearest compatriots at the same time.

"I have one last favour to ask of you, Kilgarrah. Will you take us to the Isle of Avalon?" he asked, refusing to use his power as a Dragonlord to command. Kilgarrah must offer his help out of compassion, which the magical creature did readily.

With an ease Merlin believed he could not muster, he lifted Arthur onto the dragon's back, and in moments they were flying across the country, covering the distance to Avalon which, mere moments ago, had seemed like an impossible journey.

Far below their feet, the deep forest flowed like a green tide across the land, but Merlin was too preoccupied to notice. He held Arthur close, sheltering him from the windchill, while wondering if Arthur's recent acceptance of magic would extend to an alliance with Kilgarrah. The King had only known The Great Dragon as a foe. Merlin fervently prayed that there would be a time when that problem could be addressed. He did have a sneaking suspicion that Arthur's sense of adventure would actually enjoy flying on a dragon's back.

Within minutes they were landing, and Merlin consigned that question to an unsure future.

Soon, he was dragging Arthur's inert body from the dragon's scaly back, pulling him with difficulty towards a small boat, which was tied up by the reed-edged shore of Lake Avalon. Was Arthur's weight increasing? Merlin refused to consider his 'brother' a dead weight.

Higher on the bank, Kilgarrah stretched out his sinewy neck towards the pair of humans who had become part of his legend, a look of melancholy filled his once glowing gold eyes, now dimmed with age and pain.

"There is nothing you can do, Merlin," he said, his voice breaking on the solemn words.

Merlin tried to juggle Arthur into a more upright position; his actions denying the tragic truth which was struggling to invade his mind. He would not let Arthur die!

"He is my friend!" He threw his defiance at the dragon, at the earth and sky around him and the misty waters at his back. "I cannot fail him." But at those last words, his shoulders slumped. "I have failed him," he said in little more than a whisper.

"No! Young Warlock..." Kilgarrah's protest was uttered with a mixture of assurance and sympathy.

"Yes!" Merlin interrupted sharply. "Gaius told me that Arthur could only be healed by a magic as old as the dragons'. Yet I wanted to be the one to bring him here, to save him." His voice became desperate. "I believed I was powerful enough... I wanted to be the one to bring him back to health." He laid his precious burden on the ground. "I should have called you earlier. Got you to fly us directly to the lake..."

This time it was Kilgarrah's turn to cut in. "Merlin, do you think Arthur would have accepted a ride from someone he believes to be his enemy? He needed this time to come to terms with learning of your magic. Assenting to my help would have been a step too far."

It took a few minutes for Merlin to recognise the truth of Kilgarrah's words, but he would not submit to this fate. There was still too much work for them both to do to see Albion to its safe harbour.

"Perhaps I cannot save him, but Kilgarrah, your magic is as old as The Sidhe. Is there really nothing left that you can do for Arthur? You know that Albion is in a perilous position without its true leader. I care dearly for Gwen, but I doubt she and the Knights can survive without Arthur's vision, or courage, or his ancient lineage. They will never achieve The Golden Age of Camelot you told me of. You have to help him," Merlin pleaded, glancing at the too still figure by his feet.

"I cannot cure him, Merlin!"

Merlin uttered a dread groan, torn from his throat which felt much too tight. Tears flowed freely on his cheeks as he sank down by Arthur's side. It seemed he would have to give in to the inevitable… Arthur was dead.

Perhaps in some future life, he would meet again with The Once and Future King, but, for the present, his dearest friend was gone. Merlin's heart broke.

So great was his torment, he did not hear Kilgarrah continue.

"It is true I cannot cure him. Perhaps many years ago when I was stronger, but it does no good to talk of what cannot come to pass."

Kilgarrah studied the young warlock sitting on the ground, a picture of abject misery. Was he about to do the right thing by both young men? But Merlin had spoken the truth. Albion was not yet strong enough to resist the Saxon tide that was rising around her. The people would need to have faith in a strong leader and his wise councillor to give them the will to resist. Queen Guinevere was loved, but she did not inspire the spirit of her people as did their king, who in his short reign had treated them with justice, had offered them hope and the promise of a better life. Perhaps this journey had been necessary to teach Arthur what he still needed to know, yet he had to live for that knowledge to be of any use.

The Great Dragon swallowed hard, having made his decision. He could not know if his actions might jeopardize the future… but perhaps this King had more than one reincarnation. It could not be denied that Albion was in dire peril in this era, and Arthur would always rise when his beloved Camelot needed him.

Clearing his throat, Kilgarrah spoke. "Merlin." The young warlock was locked in grief and did not move. "Merlin! I did say that I could not cure him, but perhaps there is something I can do..."

Those words took some minutes to penetrate Merlin's sorrow, but slowly he understood and scrambled to his feet.

"What? What can you do?" Merlin demanded. "Whatever it is, you must do it. Arthur's fate and mine cannot end here."

"Patience, Merlin," Kilgarrah instructed with a trace of his former imperiousness. "We must first decide if this is the correct course of action."

"Yes! Yes! Of course it is the right thing to do, and quickly, because Arthur is dead," he huffed, shivering more from emotion than the chill of the fog which clung to the lake. "I might not have learned everything about physiology from Gaius, but I'm pretty sure the longer he stays that way the more difficult it is to bring him back."

"Merlin, calm yourself." Kilgarrah decided to be magnanimous. "The spirit of life is faint within your king, but it has not yet dispersed completely. We have a little time."

Merlin swung around, looking out over the water in frustration. "There is nothing to talk about." He turned back to the dragon, his arms spread wide, remembering how often in the past he had found Kilgarrah irritating. "You must do everything you can to save Arthur."

Kilgarrah bowed his head low. "If that is your command, Dragonlord, I cannot disobey."

"No, that's not what I meant." Merlin's hands swept through his hair, the urgency of the situation driving him to distraction. How could Kilgarrah remain so calm? "I don't understand why you hesitate. You were the one who continually preached about the acceptance of magic and uniting of Albion. Surely Arthur's presence would smooth that process?"

Shaking his huge head with a sigh, the great dragon dropped his pretence of aloofness. "That I would not refute. But remember, Merlin, I stated I could not cure him. The magical shard already touches Arthur's heart; I have not the power left within me to remove it." Kilgarrah watched as tears sprung anew in Merlin's eyes, so he added quickly. "However, I can, mayhap, slow its journey; even reverse its course. It is not a complete remedy, but it would possibly give Arthur time to fulfil the dream you share. Time for you and for those who love him to become accustomed to his loss..."

Merlin doubted he would ever adapt to life without Arthur, but it was a better scenario than this, and there would be a chance to say goodbye. A lump rose in his throat, remembering he'd forbidden Arthur to say farewell. That had been wrong. But now Kilgarrah was telling him there would be no need for leave taking. At least, not yet.

"How long?" Merlin asked starkly. "How long could you give him?"

The thick, leathery neck undulated while Kilgarrah considered his reply. "I'm sorry, young warlock, that I cannot say. That future is unclear to me. Perhaps Arthur will only have some months ahead of him, or perhaps some years. There is a reinforcing spell I could teach you which would help."

"Couldn't you stay around to help?" In his eagerness, Merlin forgot that Kilgarrah's own end was drawing near. Now he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that in performing this magic spell, the dragon was giving up the last of his strength. Could Merlin allow one friend to sacrifice himself for another?

There was only one answer to that question, painful though the realization was for Merlin, yet the noble Kilgarrah took away even that hurt.

"Merlin! I am old and weak. It is time for me to leave this plane of existence, to journey to another place. It is only a small offering I make for the greater good. Do not grieve for me, young warlock. It has been my honour to serve you and The Once and Future King."

Both sorcerer and legendary beast exchanged a long empathic look, till Kilgarrah shook himself from his reverie.

"Come, Merlin, you are correct. Time grows short, and if we are to accomplish Arthur's revival we must hurry. Close your eyes, my friend, and open your heart and mind while I transfer the spell you will need to protect Arthur's future health. Then we will bring The King back."

Once before Kilgarrah had breathed knowledge directly into Merlin's brain. This time felt no different. Though the enchantment was more complex, Merlin's understanding had grown tenfold since that far off day. A feeling of hope transformed Merlin as Kilgarrah's intellect faded from his senses.

Finally, the great dragon turned his attention to the mail-clad body lying between them. Yet, once more, Merlin's impatience increased as Kilgarrah addressed him.

"Perhaps your friend will not thank me for my interference. He has already accepted his fate with grace. Life might not be quite the prize you or he are expecting."

"Kilgarrah," Merlin's agitation hardened his voice. "This is not the time for riddles..."

"I do not speak in riddles." The haughty note returned to Kilgarrah's voice. "I merely want to point out that, heretofore, Arthur has been the great warrior king,` proud of his skill and fighting prowess. The Arthur who awakes will bear a metal shard within his chest for the rest of his life. Any trauma, or even extreme activity might overturn my enchantment, and he will surely die. You must stress upon him the need for caution. I wonder if Arthur will be satisfied living a more sedentary life."

Merlin nodded his understanding, but would not allow such considerations to deter them from bringing Arthur back to life.

"Kilgarrah, that will be my task, to make him come to terms with a more peaceful existence. I think he might listen to me more readily now. Besides, it is Arthur's strong spirit and beliefs we need. Camelot has many knights who would willingly lay down their lives for him. Please, Kilgarrah, wait no more." Merlin gestured to Arthur's body. "Bring him back."