Let's Roll
Chapter 1: El Deguello, part 1
Merlin appeared out of the smoke and the dust. He turned to look behind him one last time at the cave where Morgana had tried to bury him alive. He recovered his magic and felt the familiar power flowing inside of him like a second bloodstream. He felt his rage, and the calmness that existed in the same place where his rage had been. He wasn't going to allow the prophecies to come true, not in his lifetime and not ever. He looked at his horse thoughtfully, he needed something faster. He glanced to his right, and a vicious smile appeared on his face.
Arthur was holding his ground with the knights when the white dragon flew from the sky, bringing fire and death with it. Camelot's soldiers fell back, screaming in unbearable agony as they were burned alive. In a short time, the air was filled with the smell of burning meat and the cries of dying men.
Arthur turned to the dragon, picked his shield up in one hand and in the other he held Excalibur. He glanced at the advancing enemy. The Saxons were gaining ground, executing every Camelot soldier that was left alive, granting mercy to those who were asking for it. The young king braced himself, seeing that he was alone against the advancing troops.
"For Camelot!" he shouted, running towards the enemies. One against thousands, and a dragon. If he was going to go down, he wanted to do so in such a way, that the bards would sing songs about him. About his valour, his courage. He would see to it that he didn't die from a blow to the back. He was a king and king's go down in one way only. The king's way. The men around Arthur stopped fleeing, seeing that their king had decided to lay down his life with honour.
"Protect the King!" his men shouted, gathering around him, protecting him from the side and from the back.
The Saxons stopped advancing, seeing the small group of red clad knights appear from the smoke and fire. Burned, bloody, with black soot covering their clothes and faces. Some of them were burned so badly they looked like rotting, yet walking corpses. Their flesh was crimson red and black where the flames had burned the skin. One had lost his left eye, and the hair to the left side of his burned face had been singed off. Another had burned his arm leaving behind large painful looking blisters. One of the soldiers, disregarding his injuries, sprinted towards their enemies, swinging his double edged axe, killing the men around him, not caring if they were a friend or foe. A few Saxons stepped to him, plunging their spears into his slim form that was shaking from pain and adrenaline. The boy stepped near them with four cuts in his belly, granting his enemies death before he finally fell to his knees, unable to lift his mighty axe any longer.
The Saxons circled Arthur and his men, who in the first few moments managed to push them back, plunging between them, cutting them down. Bringing death and terror like a pack of bloodthirsty devils. Arthur lifted his sword, gathering the last dozen men standing near him, fighting against the hundreds of enemies. The young king lifted his head, seeing that the dragon had returned. Then, he heard something else. Another sound, like a gust of wind, or a giant rock shot from a catapult.
A great rock suddenly fell into the battlefield from the sky, crushing men alive, falling into the centre of the Saxons' position and following to the next before falling down from the cliff, taking a few unfortunate men with it. Everyone glanced at the path the rock had travelled. There lay crushed men, some of them still alive. Their bones a ghastly white protruding out of their bodies, it was a horrific sight. The man and the dragon flew down from the sky, Merlin was on the dragon, trying to get a hold of his scales while clinging to one of his wings, making them both fall down and hit the ground.
The dragon got up first, it's body visibly wounded. Merlin stood up moments later, ghastly pale. His head was bloody where it had touched the ground. His left knee was broken and bent to the side. He was leaning on his other leg, gasping heavily and grabbing his left arm, which was broken as well, with his right hand. He had been lucky though, landing on the dragon had cushioned the blow. His head turned to Aithusa, who was watching him.
"Dragon, obæj" he hissed painfully, his blue eyes turning gold.
The dragon bowed to him and turned to the Saxons who had not yet realised the dragon's change in allegiance. It opened its mouth and a stream of flames flew out burning the Saxons alive and without any mercy. The Saxons threw their weapons trying to outrun the fire and turning their back only to be inflamed from behind. Men were dying, screaming inhumanly, their flesh burning, part of their bodies vaporizing, melting from the fire's touch.
The dragon stopped and bowed to Merlin who stood there, watching. Only he with his king and his few knights were left alive in the hell of flames, burned bodies, the smell of burned meat and black smoke.
"Merlin." Arthur gulped, looking at the person who he thought was his friend.
"Arthur. I'm glad you are still alive." Merlin smirked, looking around him, gritting his teeth in pain.
"So, what now?" Arthur asked after a moment of silence, interrupted only by the sound of crackling flames.
"Now we need to regroup and then we will attack again." Merlin gasped, feeling his strength leave him, when they heard someone else's steps.
Mordred appeared from behind the rocks, slowly walking to them. He looked at them with maddening determination in his light blue eyes.
"Mordred!" Arthur wanted to go to him, but Merlin shouted to the young druid boy, stopping them both.
"Mordred, I can't allow you to kill Arthur." The warlock shouted, feeling sick to his stomach. He didn't want it to end like this.
"Merlin." The druid boy stood about a dozen meters from him, holding his enchanted blade.
"Mordred." The warlock nodded to him.
They stood for a moment, their eyes locked in a struggle.
"Merlin, give up, you are hurt." Mordred tried to reason with him, never averting his eyes.
"I still conjure faster than you." Merlin gritted his teeth, feeling pain flare through his broken arm and leg again.
"I have the sword forged in Aithusa's breath." Mordred lifted the sword. "It can deflect your magic."
"Mordred, you know I have to try and stop you." Merlin gulped, feeling dizziness creeping over him.
"Yes, I know." Mordred flashed his eyes, summoning his magic. He stepped in, lifting his sword to deflect Merlin's pure power, hitting him with his own.
"Bưrn" Merlin's eyes flashed gold the moment Mordred conjured his magic. The dragon next to him lifted his head, spitting out a column of orange flames that hit Mordred, inflaming him.
Mordred cried from the pain, dropping the sword from his tight grasp. He threw himself to the ground, screaming from the pain, rolling on the ground while the dragon was still sending whirling flames at the boy. He tried to move to a safer location, to run, but his eyes gushed from the heat, rendering him blind. The stench of the burned meat became almost unbearable, when the overstrained body that belonged to Mordred stopped moving. His body was skinless now, unrecognisable as the boy Merlin had once respected.