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Chapter Two

Arthur and a handful of the younger knights came riding up the coastal road just after dusk, not being particularly quiet. The Angles had heard them coming long before they came into view around a bend.

"Don't engage," hissed Gerlach, unfortunately not loudly enough to be heard by all his men. Several of them had burst onto the road ahead, riding their stolen horses. It was with considerable dismay that they found themselves facing, not ragtag highwaymen, but well-armed knights led by a skillful young leader. Arthur and his men drew their swords and made short work of the incautious raiders, the now riderless horses galloping back to the homes they were stolen from. The golden-haired prince had a few seconds to note the ship lying silently off the coast of the Celtic Sea.

"Get them!" screamed a livid Gerlach, blood lust roaring through his veins as he and his remaining men mounted their horses and charged onto the road.

"The yellow-haired one is mine! Don't touch him!" commanded Gerlach, spittle flying from his mouth. "I will kill him myself!"

You are so welcome to try, thought Arthur. "Bring it!" he yelled.

The skirmish commenced between the opposing forces, none of Gerlach's men daring to harm the prince even when they had a clear shot of him from behind. Arthur was an unknown factor; they were all afraid of Gerlach. The two sides collided, each man fighting fiercely for his life. The knights were outnumbered but better armed, their horses experienced and well-trained. The stolen horses were skittish and out of their element, not responding to the commands of their strange riders.

Arthur's attention was divided, a larger worry nagging at his mind. "Kellon," he yelled to the youngest knight. "Report back to the king! Invaders from the sea!" Kellon turned his horse on the instant and flew like a bat out of hell back down the road. In that few seconds of lost focus, Arthur turned his head slightly. He paid for it dearly. Gerlach brought his sword up to swing at Arthur's neck. The prince, a few seconds tardy, brought up his own sword to deflect. Gerlach's sword was knocked higher, and Arthur was hit in the temple with the flat of the man's sword and part of the hilt. The sword went spinning to the ground. Arthur reeled, pain exploding in his head, as he fought to hold on to consciousness. Gerlach, seeing the prince momentarily neutralized, screamed at the few men he had left. "Stop that man! Don't let him get through!" Two surviving men gave chase, riding at full pelt down the road. Gerlach took a few seconds to vault off his horse and grab his sword from the ground then tore off after them. When the riders ahead of him vanished around a bend, Gerlach started thinking more clearly. He pulled up his horse. He had left one very large loose end. Gerlach decided his men could stop the young knight, and he went riding back to finish off Arthur.

The moon had come up, and Gerlach could see bodies scattered on the road and a few riderless horses. Where was the blonde warrior? He jumped off his horse, holding tightly to the reins, and peered closely at the men lying dead and dying on the road. He swore long and viciously. The young man was gone.

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Merlin woke at the usual time then realized he didn't have to get up. He didn't have to run to the kitchen, and he didn't have to fetch anyone's breakfast. Hey, he could get used to this. The prat being gone wasn't all bad.

Much later, Merlin took Arthur's dogs out for a walk on a hillside outside castle walls. Most of his chores he could let slide, but the dogs needed their walk. His neck and back still ached from spending most of the day in the stocks yesterday, but his naturally cheerful disposition had reasserted itself. Now, if he could just avoid the king for the remainder of the day.

Elsewhere, several hours earlier

Arthur, wandering aimlessly through the woods, had a concussion. He had either dismounted or fallen from his horse, he couldn't remember which. He vaguely remembered leaving Camelot with his knights but nothing much after that. Was Merlin with them? He didn't seem to know that either. His vision was blurred, and something was wrong with his balance. He stumbled several times and, hampered by the darkness, nearly walked into trees.

Disoriented, his head aching badly, Arthur first set booted foot upon the ancient battlefield so feared by the locals. Spectral warriors sprang from among the trees and surrounded him.

"Who dares defile this sacred ground?" snarled one of the ghostly warriors.

Several of them peered closely at him, their eyes glowing red in the faint moonlight. One of them reached an icy hand to pluck at his necklace. Through a haze of pain, he heard a startled exclamation and excited whispering among the specters. "Artorius!" they cried. "Forgive us, we didn't recognize you."

The apparitions bowed to him and withdrew. Next to appear was a spectral king, a thin crown of gold upon his head.

"Artorius, we are greatly honored by your presence, but you must leave. Only the dead walk here, and you live still."

"I don't know…..," stammered Arthur, a great fatigue falling upon him. He looked around uncertainly. Was Merlin with him? "Where is the ….? I don't know how ….."

The king lifted one hand, and a peregrine falcon flew out of the forest and landed on a tree branch near where Arthur stood.

"Guide the prince safely off this sacred ground," the king said to the raptor. "He is injured. Make sure he can follow you."

The falcon spread its great wings and, tilting its head, inspected the prince with a dark eye. It rose from the branch and flew off, Arthur stumbling after.

"Don't tell the woman who you are," the king said to Arthur's retreating back.

What woman?