Merlin is thrown back by the force of the blow. He had managed to throw himself between Arthur and the blade, but he hadn't had time to cast a protection spell. He hits the ground with a thump that nearly knocks the wind out of him. His head swims, but he fights to maintain consciousness.

Merlin looks down to examine the wound. Crimson blossoms have already begun to rise and spread across his shirt. In his shocked and disoriented state Merlin found the blossoming patterns strangely, beautiful. He moves back the torn edge of his shirt to reveal an almost surgical cut from the bottom of his left ribcage to his right hipbone. Tentatively, he moves the flesh to see how deep the wound is. He stops when he catches sight of one of his ribs. That means there is extensive organ damage and severe internal bleeding. Had he been any other man, he would surely die.

The water spirit stares in shock at the young warlock on the ground, the great Emrys. She hadn't known he was there. The blade she had procured turns back into the water it had come from and she surges to the edge of her pool to see what damage She had caused.

The boy lay weak and limp on the grass, only a few yards from her, but too far for her to help. She watches as he examines his wound and then lay back down as the blood spreads over his clothing and into the grass.

The glint of sunlight on metal catches her eye and she turns to see the pendragon walking slowly, almost fearfully, toward Emrys. He kneels beside the warlock and lifts his shirt to examine the wound. He's very quick to put it back. Better sights have been seen on dead men.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispers.

Merlin half smiles in response. "Y'come t'finish me off then?" He slurs weakly.

"No I'm afraid not Merlin." Arthur says laying a hand lightly on the boys shoulder. "It seems somebody beat me to it."

"Nah," Merlin says with a slight rasp, " no mortal blade can kill the great Emrys." he looks down with a furrowed brow and then straight into Arthur's eyes, "But your blade can. Forged in dragons breath-" he breaks into a coughing fit and broplets of blood freckle his chin.

"Pesky things, dragons." he says once he's gained control once more, "It's like he was allergic to plain English. Scaly old git was the worst advisor I've ever known."

Arthur tries to shush him to maintain his strength, but Merlin interrupts him again. "No. Stop it Arthur. I told you I'm fine, no mortal blade can kill me, remember?"

"I am afraid Emrys," chimed the water nymph, "that your wound is not from a mortal blade. I am so sorry."

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Merlin mumbles as his eyes begin to droop, "years of saving a royal backside and in return what do I get? An incredibly crappy day, the loss of a friend, and now I have to die before I can complete my destiny. Jolly good."

Merlin sits up just slightly, despite Arthur's protests, and addresses the water spirit. "Next time you feel like taking revenge please consider how much harder that makes my job. And be careful with the slashing, you'll get someone killed."

He collapses back with a thump and looks up at Arthur. Tears have begun to gather in the young kings eyes.

"Hey now you clotpole. No man is worth your tears remember? Especially not a sorcerer. Or a servant for that matter..." his eyes fall closed as he trails off. The sorcerers ragged breathing is the only noise in the clearing as Arthur breaks into silent sobs.

The water spirit looks on, the anger she had felt only minutes ago has faded and left only sorrow. Suddenly, so suddenly that it would hardly have been noticed, silence filled the air. The warlock's chest had fallen, and simply failed to rise.

"But you weren't just a man Merlin," came Arthur's broken reply, "you weren't just a sorcerer, or a servant either. You were my friend."

He breaks into wracking sobs and cradles the boys body. Merlins blood stains his chainmail red and blends with the bright fabric of his cape. The gold embroidered Camelot crest is darkened by innocent blood once again.