Next chapter! All shall be explained shortly, and whump will be following in the next couple of chapters after this. Gotta love a bit of whump!

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Enjoy~


Magic was at work here, of that Merlin was certain. He had felt it as soon as he'd laid his eyes on the motionless soldiers, the unnaturalness of the place hitting him like a wall. It was Morgana's doing. There was no question about it.

Before he managed to voice his thoughts, however, the ever-perceptive Lancelot got there first – it hadn't escaped the knight's notice that this valley had been empty when they had passed through it, and Lancelot was not one to simply ignore things because he was afraid of the answer.

The knights of Camelot simply stood there in the wake of the impossible question, the magic of the place seeming to transfix them and render them unable to function properly. They seemed to have lost their sense of urgency. Merlin felt a flash of irritation at their behaviour, deciding that they needed a small nudge to get them to face up to the answer that lay right in front of their eyes, plain as day. The obvious answer.

"It's magic. I can feel it," he added, feeling as if he was trying to explain something to a small child, "and it's the only explanation. Think about it logically, Arthur, this is Morgana we're dealing with – only she could transport an army of this size in such a small amount of time, making it appear as if out of thin air. It has to be magic."

Something in the Prince's eyes hardened at the mention of Morgana's name, the spell on him broken, and he pressed his mouth into a firm line, briefly nodding his acknowledgement. Any hint of doubt had disappeared from his eyes, only to be replaced with a grim determination that Merlin had seen many times before when they were about to embark on a quest where the odds weren't in their favour, but Arthur was determined to prove fate was wrong. It was good to see him like that again.

"We must inform my father about this."


"What is that?" Merlin breathed, pointing to the wispy column on the horizon, a thin fog obscuring the starry night sky.

It took Arthur only a fraction of a second to peer at the smoke before alarm bells began ringing in his head. Loud ones, ones that related to the safety of Camelot.

"Morgana," he snarled, before urging his horse forward. He knew he shouldn't have left, he knew it. And here was the proof.

They only had to ride a couple of minutes more before the first body appeared on the road.


"Leon," the Prince shouted breathlessly. He'd abandoned his horse in the courtyard, among the rubble and blood-stained flagstones, and hurtled into the castle as fast as he could, almost cannoning into the knight as he'd come striding in the opposite direction. "Leon, what happened?"

The knight was covered in sweat, his long hair plastered to his forehead with dried blood and dirt and sporting a small cut along the length of his cheek. Somehow, he still stood tall, looking his Prince straight in the eye in spite of obvious weariness that he must be feeling right now as the day's adrenaline slowly left his system.

"Morgana's Army, Sire, they attacked the citadel mere hours after you left."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. He silently cursed his father's blind stupidity when it came to handling Morgana – Uther had always underestimated her, never being able to see past that cool, serene exterior to glimpse the dangerous intelligence and the ruthlessness that lay within. It had always been his downfall in previous years, and Uther still hadn't learnt from his mistakes, confident in his own pride.

Arthur hated his father's pride.

"There were hundreds of men – we tried to hold them off as best we could, but they just kept coming no matter how many we managed to cut down."

Leon cast his eyes away, almost in shame.

"You're sure that they were men? Not sorcerers or some kind of magical beings?"

"They didn't use any magic that we could detect. To be honest –" Leon leaned in closer, not wanting anyone to overhear, "– they were very bad swordsmen, without any particular strategy or pattern. They were easy enough to kill – too easy."

This information didn't seem to tally up: if the opponent had been so easy to defeat, then why had they suffered such heavy losses? – Why was the hall filled up with bodies like a morgue, all of them Camelot's own rather than Morgana's?

Instead of trying to articulate his thoughts in a more eloquent way, Arthur settled for simply repeating his first question slightly more forcefully, reemphasising his words. "What happened?"

Leon shifted slightly, as if he was uneasy about the exact details.

"Every time one fell to the floor, another would appear in its place, the block constantly surging forwards no matter how hard we tried to stop them. At first the bodies just stayed were they were, and we carried on, thinking nothing of it. But even Camelot's army can't fight for the best part of the day against a never-ending stream of men without suffering losses. "

Arthur could see the truth in that fact – men would get tired, begin getting sloppy with their technique and their defence, and that's when the opponent would strike most effectively. And if what Leon said was accurate, then fighting for eight hours or so, non-stop would certainly push his men to their limits, with disastrous consequences.

"The bodies disappeared when dusk began drawing in, simply vanishing into thin air. Saying it startled the remaining men would be an understatement, considering their nerves were pretty rattled from being on constant guard all day, and when Morgana's supply of men seemed to stop as well – when there simply weren't any more, half of our men collapsed from sheer exhaustion rather than anything else. "

Leon looked pretty weary himself, and if not for the graveness of the situation Arthur would have almost considered telling him to take a couple of minutes off. Instead he settled for grasping the man's shoulder firmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't here," he said sincerely. Leon gave him a brief smile, inclining his head slightly.

"Sire."

Arthur released the man's shoulder, his expression of comradeship disappearing in a matter of seconds only to be once again replaced by the air of urgency that filled the castle at the moment.

"Where is my father?"

The reply came automatically.

"In the Council Chamber."

Wrapped in his own thoughts, Arthur began making his way towards the large doors, strategy after strategy presenting itself in his head and all of them vying for his attention. After a beat Leon called after him, remembering one more important piece of information he needed to impart.

"Morgana left us a … message," the knight said, a note of dread filling his voice. The Prince turned back, eyebrows raised expectantly. Leon took a breath, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"She isn't done with Camelot – her forces return tomorrow, exactly as they did today."


The banquet hall that was usually filled with so much laughter and merriment had been converted into an infirmary for the injured and the dying, Gaius' chambers nowhere near large enough to treat all of the wounded. The bodies were arranged in neat ordered rows, enabling Gaius to access and treat all of his patients with relative ease, but what shocked Merlin most was the sheer number of men here – although many were common villagers, a large number of the victims were marked out with Camelot red .

Gaius was over the other side of the room, tending to a knight who Merlin recognised as only just joining the ranks, barely older than Merlin himself. Somewhere across the way he thought he spied Gwen scuttling around, rushing to and fro with water and bandages and soothing words – it put him slightly more at ease knowing that Gaius didn't have to deal with all of these invalids completely on his own.

"How many men are dead?" Merlin murmured hoarsely, trailing behind the physician as the old man began moving further down the row, retrieving a vial of foul-coloured liquid from inside his robes.

Gaius turned his head briefly, acknowledging Merlin's presence before returning his full focus to the task at hand. When he spoke it was with the weight of someone who had seen all of this before and had grown weary of how the scenes replayed.

"At least half the army, maybe more."

The was young knight let out a small whimper as Gaius began cleaning the wound on his shoulder, and even in the dim candle light Merlin could swear that he glimpsed the flash of white bone from beneath the man's ripped tunic. After a few seconds the knight seemed to regain control of himself, his lips pressed together so hard that they were turning white.

"It was a hard battle, Merlin. From what I gather Morgana's forces seemed to be never-ending, unlike our own supply."

Merlin shut his eyes against the torrent of images that began assaulting his mind, of battle and blood and cries.

"Gaius, I need to ask you something."

The old man sighed. "Not now Merlin, I simply don't have the time."

Gwen rushed past with new bandages, giving Merlin a brief smile, and Merlin did his best to give her as genuine a one as he could muster in return. Her hands were shaking and he fought off a desperate desire to run after her and gather her into his arms, providing her with what little comfort he could. After all, Arthur wasn't exactly free to provide it right now.

As soon as she was out of earshot, he tried again, doggedly following the physician and lowering his voice so that only Gaius would catch the words.

"There was an army in the woods, a massive army that filled the valley, but it was magic somehow – they appeared out of nowhere, and just stood there, not moving, not making any kind of sound at all. I'm not sure if they were even human."

Merlin's news seemed to have little impact at all – Gaius seemed to consider the information for a moment before visibly dismissing it, motioning for Merlin to pinch the man's nose whilst he poured the concoction down his throat.

"It wouldn't surprise me that those bodies that you spied in the forest were the bodies of the fallen – in the past, sorcerers have often kept the bodies of their dead so that they can utilise them when the need to. It would explain why there aren't any bodies left here now."

They finally reached the end of the row, the man occupying the length of floor unconscious, his face covered in grime and dirt. Gaius looked so weary in the dim light that Merlin felt a pang of annoyance at Uther for leaving him alone to attend to so many injured men with only Gwen for support – the task would have been tiring for a young man in his prime, let alone someone as old as Gaius.

"From what I can tell, those soldiers who attacked the city were definitely human. This time, I think Morgana wants to show Uther that she doesn't need magic to overthrow Camelot – Uther has made more than enough enemies for her to manipulate."

Merlin could tell that from the slight edge to the man's voice that Gaius was getting irritated so he bit back the next question, instead settling for a strained silence. There was something off with Gaius' explanation, something missing – so many things just didn't add up, but he couldn't seem to put the connections together to grasp the answer.

Gingerly letting the injured man back down to the floor, Gaius wiped his hands on the front of his tunic, satisfied that, for now, all the patients had been tended to as best he could.

"I've seen a lot of things Merlin, but not as bad as this. Not even during the time of the immortal army."

He pulled Merlin into a firm hug, surprising the boy.

"I'm glad you weren't out there today."

Merlin grasped him back, a lump forming in his throat. He knew what Gaius really meant. His magic still hadn't fully returned, and given the situation they had now found themselves in it would be a small miracle if he managed to last until the end of the war, given his proficiency with weaponry and his stubbornness to stay by Arthur's side. Maybe this time it would be best if he did stay with Gaius and tend to the wounded, out of the way.

He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. If it came down to it, Merlin knew that his magic would not fail – recently he could almost feel it, bubbling beneath his skin, as if it was being held back by some kind of dam that only allowed it through in dips and drabs between the cracks. It gave him a small comfort to know that his magic hadn't deserted him, that it was still there, and it was because of this that he remained adamant to stay by Arthur's side no matter what. He wouldn't call it blind loyalty – although he had heard a number of people call it that a number of times – but it was definitely a form of loyalty, the kind that was mixed with trust and that formed the unbreakable bond between two friends who would never speak of it but always knew it was there.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he smiled reassuringly at his mentor, answering the unspoken question with his eyes rather than his voice because he couldn't trust his voice not to betray his real feelings.

I'm sorry Gaius, they said, but I will be tomorrow.