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The storm was upon them, a wind so strong that made them nearly fall from the horses and the first droplets of water started coming down.
Lucky for them, they came across a shelter before the worst started.
“Maybe it’s roman,” said Arthur as he dismounted the horse and went into the building.
Merlin had his doubts, the place seemed not as strong as roman constructions used to be. But it had walls and a roof, and that was enough.
Well, in reality, most of the roof had disappeared, and just the outer walls seemed to be intact. Once prince and servant entered what seemed an abandoned manor, they could see the place was not as great as they had thought.
At least there was enough room for the two of them and the horses, so as they could wait there until the storm passed.
“I don’t think Romans built it,” said Merlin as they sorted through the debris.
“Who cares,” said Arthur as he searched for the most guarded corner. “Go tie the horses and see if you could start some fire.”
Grumbling, Merlin went further into the building, hoping to find some room well roofed and with less rubble, large enough for the horses and where he could tie them somehow.
The place had a large hall, where they had entered it, and some smaller rooms at the back. It was the entrance the most ruined part, and soon Merlin found a place to his liking.
After securing the horses and checking they were at ease, Merlin went in search of Arthur. He had heard the prince complaining but had paid him little attention.
Meanwhile, Arthur had not felt as confident with the building as Merlin had done. The walls did not look very solid, and the howling wind only added to the feeling of instability. The stones creaked, and the holes in the roof let the rain inside.
Arthur barely had time to cover himself when the wall came crashing down on him. It was so sudden that, for one moment, he had no idea what had happened. Arthur had felt the noise rather than seeing the stones collapsing and had crouched on instinct.
He was nearly in darkness and with little room to move. Carefully, trying not to cause another falling, Arthur checked himself to see if he had any injury. His head hurt, a piercing pain at the back of the skull, but Arthur could not tell if the wetness he felt was blood or water. He had scraped his knees, but aside from that, was mostly unscathed.
“Merlin! Merlin! Can you hear me?” called Arthur, hoping that had just been that part of the building collapsing.
Merlin had heard the commotion but had been too late to prevent the destruction. He called for Arthur, and when no answer came, began to panic. And then, among the wind and the rain, could hear the prince’s voice calling for him.
“Arthur! Are you hurt? Can you move the stones?”
Arthur had no idea how the stones were piled or how much of the wall was above him. “I can’t see anything. You’ll have to try to move them,” said Arthur, although he did not know how Merlin could manage something like that.
But Merlin was already levitating the stones, thinking only in saving Arthur. He would think some excuse later, once the prince was safe. He did it one stone at a time, careful not to cause more damage.
He should have known their luck had run out. Maybe it had been the movement or the rain: the wall fell completely, smashing anything under it.
“No, no! Arthur!” His eyes completely gold, Merlin let lose all his power and send every stone and pebble flying in every direction. The building was now a ruin, but Merlin did not care.
Merlin ran to Arthur and saw him, eyes closed, bleeding, but still breathing. Merlin checked for injuries, terrified of what he could find and not knowing what to do, alone so far from the city.
There were no broken bones, and that in itself was a miracle. A gash at the back of Arthur’s head was bleeding profusely and had several scrapes and cuts all over. But that was not what worried Merlin the most. It appeared as if Arthur’s left shoulder was dislocated, and Merlin had no idea how to fix it without worsening it.
Just then, Arthur opened his eyes. The first thing he felt was the cold, the next that he could barely see, his vision was blurry. He tried to move a little but felt so nauseous that threw up immediately.
The prince felt a pair of hands supporting him while he recovered and remembered he was not alone.
“Merlin, how are you? Are you hurt?”
“Me? You are the one bleeding and throwing up.”
“Well, just let me rest a little. I think I just had wall falling onto me.”
“You have a dislocated shoulder. I can, I think I could fix it.”
“Have you done it before?”
“No.”
“Then, better let it to Gaius. Why am I wet?” Arthur tried to look up, but Merlin prevented it still holding Arthur.
“Careful, you don’t want to be sick again. And you’re wet. We both are soaked, it’s still raining. The roof, well, everything is almost gone now. The wind blew it away,” Merlin explained.
Both prince and manservant were shivering. Merlin had been adamant not to wait for a fire to dry their clothes. He would not be at peace until Gaius could examine Arthur, and as soon as the prince felt recovered enough to ride, they went back home.
The way back to Camelot was a long one. The storm had passed at least, but Arthur was in too much pain to be able to go fast. Though the prince did not complain, it was easy to see in the way he paled when the horse pace faltered or how his hands tightened the reins.
When finally they could see the citadel in the distance, Merlin felt a little of the worry go away. They were not still home, but soon they would be.