One evening, as twilight passed to night, refugees flooded the city. Nearly a hundred. Multiple villages had been attacked within the span of two hours. Villages surrounding Cameliard in all four directions—a circle of pillaging. According to the refugees, very few had been killed, but they had been driven from their homes and as they fled, beheld the conflagration all the raiders set. Every village had burned. The descriptions of the raiders, however, varied considerably.
"No coordination, huh?" Blaise hissed in Arthur's ear. Though few had died, most were injured, and Blaise was running around trying to organize treatment. Sanam, the midwife, shouted for a space, and Anna ordered the great hall to be cleared. Along with Sanam, the apothecary and two druids were seeing to injuries under Blaise's supervision.
"But why would they let everybody live, and did they actually steal anything?"Merlin asked, watching the parade of wounded. Arthur's face was set as the knights of Camelot joined the commotion.
"Help however you can," he ordered his men, and ran off through the streets looking for Anna, Merlin trailing after.
"Ask me," he said when he finally found her on the parapet above the gates, watching the line of refugees over the darkened countryside. Leodogran had sent knights out to light the way, and the torches starred the road beyond the city.
"Ask me to help."
"Are you not?" She kept her eyes on the obscured vista, trying to penetrate the fallen night.
"I don't just mean right now—they are planning a siege, you know that? There's no other reason to intentionally pack a city full of people."
Anna didn't move. Merlin stared agape at Arthur.
"You've done nothing but drop hints since we came here—Anna!—just ask me."
She moved, but to lean over the edge of the wall to look at a rider racing toward the city.
"Come with me," she said, and rushed passed them. She navigated the crowds of refugees, ordering Merlin to draw some water, and stopping by the kitchen herself to grab some food and wine. Outside her chambers, they spotted Caradoc just turning the corner at the opposite end of the corridor.
She entered Anna's chambers behind the princess, eyeing Arthur and Merlin. Anna laid the food and wine and water on the table and handed a towel to Caradoc.
"Dugan, nephew to Royns." Caradoc washed her hands and face.
"You're sure?" Anna asked, and Caradoc nodded her head. "Does he have his uncle's army, or just a large band of brigands?"
"Apparently, Royns has loaned only half his army to his dear, ambitious nephew. It probably keeps Dugan out of his hair."
"How do you know this?" Arthur asked as Caradoc sat down to eat.
"I asked nicely." Caradoc took a bite while Anna smiled.
"Lot seemed a little too successful in taking advantage of the marauders, so I sent Cara to—ask. So few take her seriously, which has its advantages."
"You're a spy?" Merlin asked. Caradoc bowed her head.
"Why aren't you reporting to Leodogran?" Arthur asked.
"Cara prefers to work this way," Anna said as Caradoc chewed.
"And how is Lot taking advantage?" asked Arthur.
"He extorts the men of the villages into joining his own army, promising some form of protection which has yet to appear," Anna replied.
"But he's not responsible for actually organizing the marauders themselves?" Arthur asked.
Anna shook her head. "He just knows more than he tells."
"If this Dugan is the one who wants to attack Cameliard, why isn't he forcing men to join his army?" Merlin looked from Anna to Caradoc.
"It didn't occur to him." Caradoc cheeked the food in her mouth. "Dugan's an idiot. Punches and swordplay are about all he knows how to do."
"So why is Lot building up his army?" Arthur said to Anna.
"He wants to expand his realm, through war or intimidation—I don't think he cares—and he just likes having his big bad army."
"If Lot doesn't need the marauders, and if Dugan doesn't have the brains to organize them, then who else is there?" Arthur said.
"What about that man Sir Perceval wanted you to find?" Merlin turned to Caradoc, who almost choked on her wine. Arthur and Anna looked at Merlin, confused.
"How—" Caradoc decided the question could wait. "His name is Anders," she said to Anna. "I don't know how he knows Dugan, but that's your manipulator. And don't count Lot out, just yet. I caught Anders in Lot's court, trying to forge a deal on Dugan's behalf."
"You help us take what we want and we'll help you take what you want." Arthur said.
Caradoc nodded.
"So you're facing Royns's army led by Dugan, a guy named Anders with marauders, and maybe Prince Lot?" Merlin counted off on his fingers.
"Great," Arthur said. "When's the fun begin?"
"If you're right about these attacks tonight," Anna replied, "within the week."
Caradoc nodded. "No army was marching out when I left, but they were getting ready."
"And if you're right about tonight, they'll try to simply lay siege and starve us out," Anna added.
"Which is why you need to meet them out there, on your terms," Arthur said.
"Cameliard's army isn't a match for half Royns's army and the marauders alone, with Lot . . ."
Arthur considered this for a moment. "Use the villagers, the survivors, anyone who wants to fight, and—"
"We can't ask that—these people—"
"Are fighting for their homes," Merlin said. "You won't have to ask."
"And I need the names of every neighbor who's even remotely friendly," Arthur said. Anna opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off. "Anna, just give me their names."
Anna wrote on a piece of parchment and gave it to Arthur. As the list exchanged hands, Arthur said softly, if you had just asked, I'd have said yes. Anna looked into his eyes and replied, a stranger? And what could we have told you?
When Arthur and Merlin had left, Caradoc said, "Do you really think he's going to make a difference? He's only got nine fighters with him."
"Who chased down a manticore."
"Blaise and Percy killed it."
"Two attacks from the creature, and he only lost three men—I think that denotes some skill on their part, don't you?"
"He's just a man, Anna."
"Cameliard will take what it can get."
There were only five names on Anna's list, and Arthur sent his knights out before dawn as messengers. He told them to plead on behalf of Cameliard, and if that didn't sway the kings to join Leodogran's cause, then they were to ask on behalf of Arthur, Prince of Camelot.
Percival reappeared and helped Arthur drill the men—they also began training farmers, villagers, townsfolk—anyone who wanted to fight. Blaise and Anna watched, Caradoc as well for a bit before slipping away again. Merlin was right, many were more than willing, especially once they heard that the marauders who had destroyed their homes were part of a military campaign. Leodogran, on the other hand had taken to his chambers. One of Camelot's remaining knights made a comment about cowardice, which resulted in a beating by half a dozen knights of Cameliard. Leodogran has a chronic condition, Blaise explained to Merlin, it comes and goes—I've been treating it for years.
Cameliard's defenses were shown to Arthur-by Percival. Merlin had asked him if he was worried about his family and why he hadn't brought them into Cameliard, but Percival told him they're well-guarded where they are. One of the city's defenses was a network of outposts that Leodogran had established when the marauders first began their raids. These were designed to monitor any suspicious activity, and a system of signals given to passing patrols meant all's well or thieves on the prowl. Through smoke and bonfire, the outposts could also warn of oncoming armies. Arthur insisted on checking every outpost himself, which is when they discovered an imposter. In a station on a rocky outcropping in the woods, Cameliard's man had been killed and replaced by one of the marauders.
"Or he could be a soldier of Royns," Blaise said as they stood in a large hallway of the castle.
"The real question is, how did he know the signals?" Anna said, pacing by the window, where she could see the men in training taking a break.
"He probably tortured your man," Arthur said.
"Tate was loyal, honest—his integrity was beyond reproach—he'd have defended Cameliard with his dying breath—they got nothing from him, I can promise you that." Percival's drawn face stared at the floor in front of him. They replaced the imposter with one of the villagers familiar with that region of the forest. They searched the area and found a recently abandoned encampment—food, a few jewels and a surprising amount of gold was stashed there. They took it all back to the city, and then they waited.
Three days. Training was intense, and smiths worked all hours to forge swords and shields. When Sirs Cadoc and Madoc returned with several cartloads of extra weapons and armor, and news that Echel had pledged his army, led by his son, spirits soared. Echel was the closest neighbor, and though his army was small—Echel depended on his castle's position on a cliff side for defense—it was assured. Echel's only condition was that Arthur grace me with his presence—if he survives this little war. King Iona, too, had offered his army on the strength of Arthur's reputation, though his condition was Camelot's friendship. The rest of Arthur's knights reported only ridicule and scorn—none of Leodogran's other friendly neighbors believed Uther was even remotely involved in Cameliard's affairs.
"Isn't anybody interested in Leodogran's welfare?" Arthur said one night.
"Just you, it seems," Merlin told him. "And me—I care."
"And the men?"
"They follow you."
Indeed, the knights of Cameliard had grown to trust Arthur, and it was clear Percival respected him. The knights of Camelot, however, grumbled quietly in their chambers.
"Great," Sir Taran said, "I survive a magic monster just to die for a pretty little princess."
"Leodogran's enemy conspires with thieves and plays in shadows—the Prince is right to lend our aid."
"Trust you to say that, Cadoc," Sir Rigel said. "Leodogran would kill us all if he knew who the Prince really was."
"We don't know that for certain," Sir Cadoc said quietly.
On the fifth morning, Percival disappeared again. Blue smoke was seen rising in a column to the west—the signal of an approaching army. Preparations sped through the city and the tents outside where Echel's son, Gordon, was camped. No sign still of Iona's men, but word came that they were on the march. Leodogran made an appearance, thanking Gordon for Echel's help before moving to the parapet above the gates.
"He seems sad," Merlin said as he adjusted the saddle on Arthur's horse.
"Merlin, if you insist on coming this time, you'd better put on some armor." Arthur checked his weapons.
"On my saddle." Merlin still looked up toward Leodogran.
"All three of my brothers died in battles and skirmishes." Anna walked up, wearing trousers, her hair braided. "He hates wars, battles, fights—we don't even host tournaments anymore. Here, I want you to have this," she held out a purple kerchief ornately embroidered with gold thread.
Arthur looked at it. "I don't need luck, Anna. You seem to be preparing for a fight yourself."
"If worse comes to worst, Cameliard will be ready, yes. And it's not for luck—I fully expect it back with both you and it in one piece." She still held out her kerchief.
"On the off-chance that worse comes to worst—"
"Then I'll have no choice but to march down to the underworld with my harp and sing a sad song just to get permission to slap you."
Arthur laughed. He reached toward her, touching the kerchief—she closed her hand over his.
"Be careful," she said.
"Trust me, Lady Anna."
"I do." She looked into Arthur's eyes and released his hand, her expression now mirroring her father's. She walked away as Arthur tucked the purple cloth beneath his collar and mounted his horse. Merlin saw Anna meet up with Blaise and whisper something in his ear. Blaise nodded and went off toward the stables. Merlin shrugged on his hauberk, and adjusted his wrist guards.
"Do you need help, Merlin?" Arthur stared down, impatient. Merlin shook his head and pulled himself onto the saddle as Blaise rode up.
"Would you believe that there've been whole books written about the use of magic in war?" he said to Arthur.
"No," Arthur looked askance at him while Merlin's eyes grew wide.
"Good," Blaise said, "because there's hasn't. But Anna asked me to accompany you and do what I can—even if it's just tending the wounded." Blaise rode away toward the gate, Arthur staring after him.
"Well, we can use all the help we can get at this point, right?" Merlin said.
Arthur's face tightened and he gripped his reins. "Come on."
They rode for miles, Arthur's knights right behind him, the knights of Leodogran and Echel blending together in a mass of clanging armor and hoof beats. Gordon, Echel's son watched Arthur almost the entire way to an open valley where they saw a vast army standing in wait.
"This should be interesting," Gordon pulled alongside Arthur.
"You say that like this is a game," Arthur said.
"My soldiers don't often get to see real war, or battles as the case may be."
"Great."
"Then again, neither have you." Gordon winked at Arthur. "But we wouldn't have come if we thought you didn't stand a chance—oh, look at that."
In the valley before them, a hundred or so men from the front lines were heading toward them. A knight on horseback rode out in front and was yelling something—the men just kept moving forward.
"Don't these things traditionally begin with an onslaught of arrows?" Taran said from behind Merlin.
"Wait." Arthur held up his hand. He watched the marchers coming toward them, and scanned the army behind them, where several other knights on horseback seemed to be trying to halt them. "Those are Lot's men, aren't they?"
"I guess he didn't want to miss the fun after all," Gordon said.
"Wasn't Lot forcing people to join his army?" Merlin asked. The men were now close enough to see that their armor was makeshift, their weapons poorly-made, and their demeanor . . . farmers.
"He put villagers in the front to be slaughtered," Arthur's face hardened.
"To act as human shields," Gordon said.
"It seems the villagers didn't like that idea," a female voice said from behind them. Arthur, Gordon, and Merlin all turned to find a knight riding up beside them, fully armored. "Someone might have sent word through the camps that Leodogran was going to make a stand and that he had provided actual aid rather than empty promises."
"Caradoc," Arthur smiled as the army of a hundred villagers bowed before him. "Behind us," Arthur motioned with his head. "There'll be plenty of fighting to go around." Voices carried up as friends and acquaintances greeted each other. Arthur rolled his eyes and Merlin smiled.
"Lot's army is untried," Caradoc said. "I think if you establish yourself on the battlefield, he'll withdraw rather than lose his toys for Dugan's cause."
"That will just leave Royns' well-trained army." Arthur looked at the army stacked and lined up on the opposite end of the valley. A rider was approaching.
"Do we wait for Iona?" Merlin asked.
"No," Caradoc said.
"Where the hell is Percival?" Arthur looked around.
"He said he'd be here," Blaise drew his horse between Arthur and Caradoc. "Whatever, the offer is, don't take it," he said to Arthur as the messenger from Dugan's army arrived.
"The Lord Dugan graciously extends this one-time offer to surrender peacefully, and he promises to take Cameliard under his protection—a deal you should not pass up," the man said.
"Is Dugan trying to back down or sell me a horse?" Arthur replied. Gordon chuckled. The messenger ground his teeth, a vein in his neck protruding.
"You will all die, if you pursue this," he said.
"Don't be so sure," Gordon said.
Arthur stared hard at the messenger. "Tell Dugan if he leaves now and takes his band of marauding cowards with him, and promises never to bother Cameliard again, I'll let him go."
The messenger narrowed his eyes, both he and his horse snorting as he rode away.
"That pass over there is a good place to stash a contingent of men for an ambush—Dugan's had a lot more time to reconnoiter and hide men who'll attack once we start tiring," Caradoc said as they watched the man ride away.
"Blaise, I don't suppose you can flush out these hidden contingents," Arthur kept his eyes on Dugan's army, trying to spot Lot.
"You have no idea how magic works, do you?" Blaise said. "No, not unless I already know where they are. You want the pass closed," he turned to Caradoc, "then give me a few minutes."
Blaise rode off, up a small hill. Merlin tried to see what he was doing, but Arthur moved his forces forward, almost to the middle of the valley. He lowered his spear, and all the knights around him followed suit, including Caradoc. They waited. They stared at the enemy without moving. They could see the army before them exchanging glances among their ranks.
A crash sounded from nearby. Many of the men looked over to the pass to see an avalanche of rock tumbling down, piling the ground. Arthur and Caradoc kept their gazes forward, unfazed by the sound. One of the men of the opposing army galloped forward to the front lines. He stared agape, almost in panic, at the tumbling of rocks and turned to look at Arthur. The man was tall and skinny, and his armor was polished, new. He had his helmet off, revealing dark brown hair that was long enough to get in his eyes. Staring at Arthur, he raised his arm, spear in hand, high over his head and yelled, a loud caterwaul that reached everyone's ears. He lowered his spear and charged. Arthur remained unmoving for a moment as this man—Dugan, Caradoc identified—came at him, followed by his army. Then Arthur spurred his horse forward—they clashed, Arthur knocking the man from his horse in a single blow.
The battle had begun.
Dugan ran back behind his men to grab a sword and another spear, and tried to remount his horse. Other knights replaced him, fighting with Arthur, blocking his way to Dugan. Half an hour passed—swords, spears, shields, blood, horses rearing, bolting, or dying themselves—a horn sounded.
"Pssht," Caradoc was again beside Arthur. "Dugan really is inexperienced, he should've tried tiring us out for at least another fifteen minutes before setting a fresh pack of dogs on us."
Fifty men emerged from the south, led by Anders—short, with wide brown eyes. From the north another rider approached—Percival, charging at Anders with his spear pointing at the man's head. They unhorsed each other, taking to swords on the ground. Percival chased Anders across the field of battle, and those who came near them heard Anders laughing. He laughed as Percival lunged, as Percival thrust, even as Percival pierced his shield and armor, wounding him in the chest. Anders fell to his knees, and Percival spit in his face—the man laughed, tossing his unshaven face back and howling to the wind. Percival held his sword tip at Anders' throat as another horn sounded.
King Iona, and his sizable army.
Confused, Dugan looked to the north, from where Percival had come. Nothing was there. Lot beside him narrowed his eyes at Arthur and lunged at him. Arthur blocked. An intense fight ensued.
"Surrender now!" Arthur yelled to both Lot and Dugan.
Angered, Lot redoubled his efforts, calling Dugan to fight beside him. Arthur disarmed Lot and turned quickly to block Dugan's swing. Lot looked around to see his and Dugan's—or rather Royns' forces losing to two small armies, a retinue of poor villagers, and reinforcement from Iona. Lot turned to look at Dugan fighting Arthur and disgust filled his face—he jumped on the nearest horse, and started to ride off. But instead, he grabbed a crossbow and turned in his saddle to take aim at Arthur. Focusing on the moving body harried by Dugan, he felt heat between his hands and dropped the crossbow in time to see it burst into flame. Lot looked around, no one had seen what happened, and he could spot no cause for it.
Some distance away, Merlin watched Lot set his horse galloping away and calling to his men. Merlin, too, was surrounded by men busy fighting, and the only one who had seen the golden flash in his eyes, or noticed that Merlin had muttered in another language as Lot's crossbow lit up was Blaise, who had maintained a vigil over the battle. He stared at Merlin, then looked to Arthur, still fighting Dugan.
"No!" Dugan shouted at the retreating Lot. "Nooo!"
"Yield." Arthur panted, sweat running into his eyes.
"No!" Dugan looked at his forces, now outnumbered, and lunged at Arthur.
Arthur punched him to the ground, and said, "surrender!"
Dugan clenched his jaw, eyes narrow, armor battered. He again attacked Arthur, renewed fervor fueling his thrusts. However, Arthur still got the upper hand, this time plunging his sword deep into Dugan's torso.
Their leader fallen, the remains of Royns' half-army laid down their arms. Cheers sounded from the villagers whose homes had been destroyed by Dugan's thwarted siege plot. The head of his accomplice, and perhaps even puppet-master, Anders lay where it had rolled when Percival had executed him. Percival was still crouched beside the body, looking toward Anders' separate head, a dark, empty expression clouding his face. Caradoc, her helmet off, her dark hair loosening from the band in which she'd tied it, placed a hand on Percival's shoulder, her other still gripping her sword.
"I know." Face hard, she stared at Percival a moment before taking his sword from him.
Messengers were sent back to Cameliard, and soon Leodogran and Anna joined them, bringing food, water, and assistance for Blaise. Anna went off, searching through the post-battle melee and identifying the worst injuries. Blaise spoke with Leodogran for a moment.
"He's good." Blaise watched as Arthur, some distance away, offered his hand to Caradoc.
"Clearly." Leodogran said, watching: Arthur glanced at Anna crouched beside a knight writhing on the ground, a druid treating him. "Shouldn't you be tending our men, Blaise?"
"What about him?" Blaise could see that Arthur was limping.
"We owe him great thanks."
"He could not have gained such skill without also gaining a reputation—a few letters—"
"Blaise! You should know better than to take me for a fool. His demeanor, the way he fights, the way he acts, the way he orders his men and the way they obey him—the fact that he has a servant, and that Echel and Iona so readily responded to him when we had for so long been begging for help—if he is not himself a prince then he has the favor of one. And he has earned the right to have his wishes respected. Now go see to our injured men."
In the valley, tents had been erected to treat the wounded, and the knights of Cameliard were binding prisoners, separating Royns' men from the marauders. Royns' men would probably be ransomed back to him, but the marauders would most likely be executed. In the largest medical tent, men lay waiting for Blaise, including Arthur and several knights of Camelot.
"Well, we're not dead yet," Cadoc said to Taran as they stood by Madoc, who'd broken his arm.
"There's still time," Taran smiled and looked to his own wounds—several cuts on his hands and arms, and a slice in his side that actually wasn't as deep as it seemed. Cadoc was just severely bruised, especially on his butt and leg where he'd been thrown from his horse.
"At least the Prince will get to finish his wooing, now that we all have so many injuries to recover from." Taran looked over to where Arthur was lying, Merlin hovering over him and binding a deep gash in Arthur's left leg.
"I don't think he's wooing the Princess," Cadoc said quietly.
"We didn't do this out of the goodness of his heart."
"Taran, have you met Prince Arthur?" Madoc spoke out of the corner of his mouth, glancing over to Arthur.
Arthur was resting while Merlin checked his wound—neither heard the three knights on the other side of the tent.
"Stop fussing with it," Arthur said to Merlin as Merlin again prodded his leg.
Anna entered and smiled. "How is he?" she said to Merlin, as Arthur's eyes were closed.
"Still in one piece," Arthur said, keeping his eyes shut.
"It's just as well," Anna said, "I haven't practiced the harp in years."
Arthur laughed and pulled out the purple kerchief and offered it to her, finally opening his eyes. "It's a little—"
"Sweaty?" Merlin suggested as they looked at the drenched cloth.
Anna smiled again and chuckled. "That's not a problem, but keep it anyway—it's the very smallest thanks we can give."
Arthur lowered his arm. "Next time, could you just say please, instead of the baiting games?"
"I'd rather there not be a next time." She touched his hand. "But yes, I suppose I can manage 'please'." She turned back toward the tent's opening, pausing long enough to look at Cadoc, Madoc and Taran and mouth Thank You to them. They bowed their heads and she left, Blaise passing on her right, into the tent.
"Well, I knew her smile could brighten a room, but I didn't think it could return the sun to a battlefield," he said, smiling himself.
"Yes," Arthur said vaguely, staring at the opening of the tent and fingering the kerchief.
Blaise's smile disappeared, and he turned to Arthur's wound. "Hopefully, we won't have any debilitating injuries," he said.
"Am I starting to wear out my welcome?" Arthur looked at him.
"Not my call. I am surprised your man hasn't treated you," Blaise looked at Merlin.
"Merlin? He can barely get tea right," Arthur said.
Merlin stared at Blaise, who looked back and forth between Merlin and Arthur.
"You'll need water, won't you," he said to Blaise. "I should go get some water."
"No, that's enough." Blaise indicated a line of buckets at the side of the tent, each filled with water, and as he tended Arthur's wound, stole furtive glances at Merlin.
Merlin avoided eye contact.
