Beware the Shadows

AN-So, after a bit longer than I expected, here is the next chapter of The Sorcerer's Shadow. This chapter was originally going to go up on Saturday but I re-read it and realised I absolutely hated it. Then, halfway through re-writing it I got sick and have been in bed with the flu for the past few days. Not fun. So after finally managing to focus my eyes long enough to see a computer screen I have managed to finish writing the chapter. And here it is.

It actually turned out nothing like I expected and I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing yet. I'd love to know what you think. So I'm just going to go back to sleep now and hope you enjoy the chapter.

Cloud-dee

P.S Thank you so much to all the amazing people who reviewed, alerted and favourited. You're the best!

Wind howled over the blood-soaked battlefield, whipping through the tattered banners and scraps of clothing, flashes of red from the cloaks of the fallen knights. Rain pelted down, blinding both friend and foe alike, soaking the warriors through to the skin and turning the once clean ground into a mess of churned up mud and blood. Arthur skidded and slid through the dirt, flipping his rain-soaked hair out of his face and raising his sword once more. His arms screamed in protest, the effort of moving straining his battle weary muscles to the limit.

All around him he could hear the yell and cries of the men, locked in battle around him. His men fought valiantly but every minute they were being pushed further and further backwards, back towards the great gates of Camelot and all the innocent people hiding within.

A sword swung from nowhere, heading towards Arthur's exposed neck. He ducked and brought his own weapon up to counter the blow, the clash of metal ringing in his ears, then slammed his elbow into the face of his enemy sending him tumbling to the ground. But though he may have won this small battle, though one enemy may have fallen, there were hundreds more to take his place.

And the most infuriating, maddening thing was that Arthur knew that in a normal battle his men, the knights that were at this moment dying around him, could have beaten them. If these enemies had come forward into battle wielding only swords and spears it would be them and not his men that were falling all around him.

But this was no ordinary battle. And the enemy that faced him did not only possess weapons of steel. He could see her from across the battlefield, standing motionless atop the rise before him, black dress and hair flowing in the wind, looking every inch the powerful, evil being she was. Morgana gazed down at the men before her, bringing death with a single flick of her wrist and destruction with a wave of her hand.

Arthur staggered forward again, losing his footing and sliding back down into the mud beneath him. He could feel his little remaining strength draining away, pulled from his body by the exhaustion of the fight. As if she could see him from her position above overlooking the devastation before her, Morgana smiled.

The attack had come from nowhere, completely surprised and unprovoked, but then again, she needed no provocation. The first news Arthur had heard was a patrol bursting full speed into the gates of Camelot, demanding immediately to see the king. Already the smoke from the burning outer villages was beginning to appear over the horizon of the great forest.

The knights of Camelot had risen to the challenge with the bravery that was not equalled in all of the five kingdoms. Patrols were sent out to assess the challenge and to try to bring the people living in the outlying villages to safety. Within the walls of Camelot, frantic activity was taking place, weapons and armour collected and supplies stored away. Following the advice of Gwen and his knights, Arthur had decided to meet the armies of the other Pendragon out on the battlefield instead of waiting for them to storm the city.

Reports came back within the hour of an army made up of only a few hundred men, and the knights of Camelot laughed in the face of this new threat, knowing the victory would be an easy one. But Arthur had learned that nothing was below his sister's scheming tricks and that she would not march on Camelot virtually unprepared. There had to be something else.

It was a King's duty to lead his men as they stepped out into battle, so it was Arthur who stood tall and proud at the head of his armies as they made their way to intercept the forces of his sister. Now it seemed crazy how relaxed the atmosphere had been. The men were nervous of course, a battle was about to be fought, but it seemed like the victory would be an easy one with minimum casualties. Arthur however was not convinced.

He rode slightly ahead of the main body of his troops, his most noble and faithful knights surrounding him. Each of the faces around him bore the same expression of worry that burdened his and each pair of eyes reflected the mistrust at what this seemingly easy victory would bring. Every man here had seen first-hand the destruction Morgana could bring and to underestimate her would be a mistake they would not live to regret.

"Arthur." Leon's voice was wary, as if he was not sure if he should voice his fears to his king. "Do you really think it will be as easy as the patrols say? If there really are only a few hundred men like they say, surely whatever Morgana's powers are we are bound to win?"

Arthur's face remained dark, his brows furrowed in worry. "Let's hope so Leon. But where my sister is concerned…" He ignored the flashes of surprise on the faces of his knights as he referred to the witch as his sister.

"Where my sister is concerned you can never be too careful. She is powerful and she is never below dirty tricks and foul play. You can be sure we won't be facing her on even terms, no matter how the odds look now." If only he had known back then exactly how unfair the odds would be.

"Cheer up princess." Gwaine's irritatingly cheerful voice broke through Arthur's thoughtful silence and inwardly Arthur rolled his eyes at the other knight. Only Gwaine could be cheerful in a situation like this.

"This battle will be over by midday and I'll be back in the tavern by the time the night falls."

This brought a smile to everyone in the general vicinity; they all knew that the words were perfectly true. There was nothing Gwaine loved more when he came home from a hard won battle than to burst into the nearest tavern and start a fight with someone else. Now, as he stood ankle deep in the mud, rain plastering his face, long after the night had set in and lightning lit up the inky blackness of the sky, Arthur wished that was the case. The last Arthur had seen of his friend was of a limp, but thankfully still breathing body, being dragged out of the heart of the battle by a fellow knight.

Another foe swung his blade towards him and Arthur parried the blow, twisting his opponent's sword out of his hand, then running him through with his trusted blade. While he was distracted two more opponents had sneaked up behind him and Arthur heard their battle cries too late, but by the time he had turned they were already down and it was an easy job to finish them off. Arthur's insane good luck had continued throughout the entire battle. He thought he knew who to thank for that. But if his friend was here, if he really was looking out for the armies of Camelot like a guardian angel, then he was their last hope. Men they could defeat. Magic they could not.

They had come, like demons in the night, pouring down from every corner of the battlefield. The reports had said a few hundred, but this was ten times more than that. Hordes of bloodthirsty of men, but not like men Arthur had ever seen before. They shimmered, glowed with the light of the magic they were shielded in, blending almost perfectly into the night. If they were hard to see, they were even harder to kill, each blow seeming to have little effect, lessened by the shield that was protecting them. Arthur was sure he knew who was casting it. Morgana's powers, it seemed, had grown.

Arthur fought his way across the rain soaked field, dodging vicious blows and swipes, intent only on reaching the source of the power and destroying it. If he could take down the protection these men held, his armies would have a chance at victory. But while his sister still cast her enchantments down on them, that chance was disappearing by the second.

She was standing on top of a raised hill, overlooking the full scale of the battle with cold, calculating eyes. Every now and then, a knight of Camelot would come too close to her perch and she would send him spinning away to fall, broken on the rocks at her feet. But when Arthur approached, she allowed him to make his way towards her, stopping with only feet between them, the two Pendragons facing each other with the same amounts of betrayal and loathing reflected in their eyes. They ignored the rest of the battle raging around them, focused only on each other.

Arthur was about to raise his sword to strike her down, but something made him falter. A tug down in his chest, a reminder that this was not just another enemy that he should kill without a moment's thought. Morgana had been his sister in all but blood, arguing, fighting and loving each other with the passion that only siblings can have. The playful bickering, the risks they took for each other, they had shared everything. There was nothing he wouldn't have done for her and any man foolish enough to harm her would have been met with the full force of his wrath.

Of course, that was all gone now. They had been brother and sister in all but blood. But when the truth had been revealed and they found that that they were brother and sister in all, everything they had held dear disappeared as quickly as the innocence of the truth.

But still in his heart, Arthur felt the strange twinge of sadness and he prepared to kill his greatest enemy and his beloved sister. And though he did not know it Morgana felt it too. It was just, she didn't care anymore.

Arthur swung his sword down, his blow prepared to strike her down where she stood. But Morgana just raised her hand and the blade stopped, caught by and invisible shield. Struggling, Arthur pulled on his weapon, trying to free it from her grasp but it was stuck, caught, seemingly, on air. With a casual flick of her hand, Morgana sent it spinning away across the hillside, then stepped forward and raised her hand again. A golden gleam lit up her irises and Arthur was sent flying backwards, crashing into one of the many boulders that littered the face of the hill.

Darkness swam in his eyes for a few seconds and a ringing pierced his skull. Spots danced across his vision and he thought for a moment he was going to pass out. By the time he had recovered Morgana had walked, almost lazily across to meet him. Struggling to stand, Arthur grasped for the dagger he kept strapped to his side. Morgana just smiled, her eyes flashing gold for a second time, and Arthur found himself pinned back against the rock, able to move his head but nothing more.

"Coward." He spat at her, desperately trying to move from her grasp. "You may be a witch but you used to have more honour than this. Are you going to kill me while I'm defenceless? Why don't you fight me without your magic tricks? Why don't you fight me fairly? Why don't you fight me like the person you used to be?"

"Because Arthur." He voice was filled with malice and hatred at the figure before her. "This is the person I am now. Your gift may be with the sword, but what use is that, next to the most powerful sorceress in the world. Why would I fight you with steel when I can kill you with magic. Like father, like son."

"Why Morgana." Arthur's voice had switched from hate-filled rage to a sort of pleading. "Why are you doing this? Revenge? Hatred? Would you really destroy an entire city just to get what you want?" He knew the answer even before she spoke it.

"Of course." There it was, the bitter, twisted loathing that had slowly built inside her from all the years of lies, the years of betrayal, until it had all come spilling out in a torrent of hatred. For him, for Camelot, for everything that she had lost, that had been taken from her. "This time it's my turn Arthur. This time I win."

For Morgana, she drew a sick kind of pleasure, watching her brother, helplessly trapped within her power. It was almost a shame, this great and mighty warrior lying at her feet, defeated at last. It seemed too easy. But even in defeat he was still stubbornly defiant and it almost made her smile.

"You'll never win Morgana. Never. No matter how powerful you are, no matter how many armies you create. You'll never win."

"And why is that, dear brother. I have already won, surely you must know that?" She looked out over the destruction she had created before her and knew that her armies were winning, steadily pushing the opposing force back towards Camelot's gates. "Nothing and no-one can defeat me anymore." This time she did smile because she knew it was perfectly true. This time she would win.

But to her anger, Arthur still did not accept his failure. In fact, he seemed slightly amused by her, a new hope springing into his battle hardened face.

"You're not going to win Morgana. Not today, not ever. There is still someone who can defeat you. There's always someone who can defeat you."

"And who is that." Morgana snapped. Suddenly, gloating over Arthur seemed like a bad idea. She should just kill him now while she had the chance. "Don't try and fool me with arrogant tales of false hope and victory. The only reason you have survived this long, the only reason you have not been slain by my hand years ago was because of Emrys. And now he is gone and your last hope gone with him."

She noted the brief look of pain that flashed over Arthur's face and laughed. "Did you think I would not know? Word travels quickly through the people of magic and rumours even faster. I have heard how the mighty sorcerer died. Some say through battles, some say destiny, others say by your hand. Personally, I like the latter best. The great Arthur Pendragon, killing his saviour for the crime that gave him his own life." Briefly she looked at Arthur, half hoping to get an explanation, more to gloat over, but he held his tongue, face unreadable.

"All of the druids mourn at the passing of Emrys but I rejoice. There is no-one that can stop me now, from taking you, from taking Camelot, from taking everything. I am the most powerful being alive, the most powerful who will ever live. Emrys has gone and I have won."

She expected him to crumble, to accept defeat and die with dignity. But still Arthur smiled and still he taunted her with words that could not possibly hold any meaning.

"Is that really what you think? Don't flatter yourself Morgana, powerful you may be but the most powerful? Surely you must know by the amount of times you have lost that that cannot possibly be true." Anger boiled up inside her and she had to restrain herself from killing her brother where he lay, held back only by the thought that the death she had planned for him was far more public and far more painful. But still, she could not let the insult go unnoticed.

Arthur winced as the blade of a dagger swung down, slicing the side of his face and leaving a trail of bright red blood glistening in its path. He hissed in pain and struggled to move but still he was pinned down by the weight of the magic that held him bound. Crouching down beside him, Morgana rested the dagger under his chin, pressing to his throat and whispered into his ear, her voice laced with malice, enjoying his helplessness.

"I am the most powerful sorceress to ever live, more powerful than you and your armies combined. Now that Emrys is gone, no-one can thwart me any longer. Don't taunt me Arthur Pendragon, when I can do things that you could only dream of. I could summon thunder and lightning and blast Camelot into a thousand pieces, leaving it nothing more than smouldering rubble. I could command the sea and bring it crashing down over this land, destroying everything in its path. I can raise hills and flatten mountains."

The wind that was whipping around them seemed to gain in strength, drowning out all noise of the battle and encasing them in a protective shield of magic. The dagger pressed harder into his throat as Morgana finally let all of her emotions spill out, all of her passion and hate and pain spoken into the ear of her enemy.

This was her time of victory, her time of triumph. Within minutes her brother's army would be dead at her feet and she would march into Camelot and take the throne. After so many years of being defeated by Emrys, her unknown greatest enemy, she finally had the chance to take her revenge. She finally had the chance to win.

"I hold more power in my hand than your puny mind will ever know. The sun and the moon would rise on my command and set on my wish. I can bring darkness to even the brightest day and I can destroy the shadows with a single flick of my hand. Nothing can stop me now, least of all you, brother. I am taking back what is rightfully mine, like I should have a long time ago. And there is nothing you can do to prevent it. I fear nothing brother because now I live in the shadows and rule the night and there is no-one left to stop me."

She was breathing heavily; her eyes alight with a mad kind of triumph, glowing with the knowledge of her victory. She gazed down into the face of her weak, pathetic brother, expecting to see awe or terror reflected in his eyes. Instead, a sly smile was creeping over his lips and his eyes were sparkling with the beginnings of laughter.

"Oh but Morgana." His voice was almost mocking, his eyes not fixed on her but beyond her shoulder at the darkness creeping in around them. "Didn't anyone ever tell you? You should always be scared of the shadows."

That was the last thing Morgana heard before she was flung backward, slamming into the rocks and sliding down to lie still. Pain exploded in her head and she couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything to protect herself from the figure that was now bearing down on her. The pain was unbearable, overwhelming, threatening to drag her down into unconsciousness.

She didn't understand how this could have happened. How one minute she had been on the brink of victory and the next trapped in a haze of pain. How, even at the moment of her triumph, Arthur had found a way to beat her. She braced herself, expecting any minute to feel the sharp stab of pain as a blade sliced through her stomach and the gloating face of Arthur, victorious once again would swim into her vision.

But when the figure before her drew nearer and she could focus on the face, she saw that it was not Arthur that stood before her, her doom once again. Through her blurry, unfocused vision, she could see a face, a face that had haunted her nightmares and plagued her waking thoughts from the moment she had heard his name. It was the face of one she thought she had been rid of forever and one that brought terror rushing into her soul, like a waking nightmare.

"Not…possible…" She managed to whisper, before the pain overcame her and she slipped down into the darkness.

See that review button down there. Every time you click it, Arthur gives Merlin a hug. And we all know Merlin needs all the hugs he can get! So come on, be nice to poor Merlin.