The Rivals, Part I

Children of the Druids

Chapter 11

Arthur directs the knights to search the keep and find the slave trader. They prowl the corridors, checking in every room. Finally, Arthur opens the door to a room at the far end of the corridor and sees Jarl in a large bedchamber. He rushes in with his sword drawn.

Jarl sees Arthur, and says, "so, Arthur Pendragon, you escaped from your owner, did you?" Jarl grabs his sword, and lashes out at Arthur.

"You sold me to a sorcerer!" Arthur growls. "He was controlling me." Arthur deflects Jarl's wild swing easily enough with an overhand parry. Both release and step back to prepare to engage.

"He's a sorcerer?" Jarl feigns innocence. The two men circle each other, swords poised. "Maybe. But he didn't create your enchantment. We did. And we can do it again."

Jarl surges forward with an overhand strike. This time, Jarl is focused and precise. He leads his attack vigorously, forcing Arthur into defensive postures. Dimly, Arthur can hear the sounds of swords clashing and grunts of effort and pain behind him as his knights engage Jarl's men. But he trusts their abilities and gives all his attention to his own fight.

Arthur's fury at what the slaver did to him – is doing to children – drives him. He leads Jarl on a defensive dance around the room, letting him tire, easily deflecting his blows. Jarl lacks the skill and stamina that hard training and talent provide. It's only a matter of time. But Arthur keeps a cool head despite his anger, and waits for Jarl to make a mistake. When Jarl does, and leaves him an opening, he easily slips in his blade, and Jarl crumples to the floor, dead. When Jarl's men see him fall, they turn and run.

xXx

The children surround Merlin as they climb the steps together back to the main brightly lit hall.

"Shayna," he says with a broad smile to the young teenaged girl, "it is good to see you again."

"Thank you, Merlin," she answers, giggling at the funny name for Emrys.

"Stay here, all of you. If I do not come back, there are knights from Camelot here who will help you. Let them know that there is a young girl waiting in the forest nearby with a horse. Her name is Sandrine. She will need their help as well. Okay?" Merlin looks around at the children. At their solemn nods, he says, "good."

He walks back to the stool he had tripped over when Arthur advanced on him, grabbing the sword he had dropped earlier, and goes in search of the sorcerer. He knows that Arthur has gone off to deal with Jarl. Now is the time for him to challenge the sorcerer who had stolen the children to summon him here to a final confrontation. Merlin heads back into interior of the castle, through the door that Jarl had used earlier and opens his mind to find the other sorcerer's magic. He senses it, and starts climbing the stairs in the little room, grasping the sword as he climbs. He reaches the top and stands at the closed door, momentarily paralyzed with nerves, questioning as always his own abilities. He reaches out with his magic again and senses the power of the other sorcerer; it is formidable. Merlin's mouth goes dry. He draws in a deep breath and thinks, "this is it; I must do this."

With a muttered word and glowing eyes, Merlin blasts the door to the room off of its hinges. Entering, he sees a tall thin man, with lank dark hair standing casually with his back to the window, watching him. Merlin finds his voice, says, "Malus."

The other man steps forward away from the window. "You!? A boy! Who are you?" Malus asks. "Really?"

"I'm nobody."

"You got away with that the first time we met. You're not 'nobody'. You're not just a serving boy." Malus swipes his hand in a wide arc from left to right and Merlin is tossed against the side wall, the sword knocked out of his hand.

Merlin gets to his feet and staggers a few steps before he is knocked back again.

"The Druids were warned to send Emrys, not a mere serving boy, to rescue their children. I know who you are. You are Emrys."

Merlin looks at him with his mouth open, gasping as he tries to catch his breath. "You are pure evil," Merlin spits out. "I cannot let you harm the Druid's children."

"I don't care about the children. They can go," Malus sneers. "They were but a ruse to bring you to me. I will destroy you, Emrys. To prove to all I am the most powerful sorcerer."

As he sits still leaning against the wall Merlin raises his head to stare at the other man. "What does that matter?" he asks, panting.

"The Druids speak of your power in their legends and prophecies, yet you are young and unskilled. You know nothing, Emrys. I have the skill and the knowledge. I should be the one they speak of!" As he speaks he winds his arm around and finally flings a ball of blue green fire at Merlin.

By reflex, Merlin raises his hand, his eyes golden, deflecting the ball of fire, thrusting it back to dissipate in a shower of sparks at the window; at the force of Merlin's reaction the tall man flies backward to the other side of the room, hitting his head on the wall under the window. Merlin gets to his feet and takes a step forward. Malus shakes his head to clear it, and tries to stand. But Merlin's outstretched arm knocks him back down, back against the wall.

Malus lifts his arms above his head, and the window crashes open; he flicks his fingers forward, and the panes shatter in the air from the force of the movement. Shards of glass fly across the room at Merlin. With a sweep of his arm, Merlin scatters them aside. A fierce wind penetrates the room from the open window, swirling around Malus as he rises and strides toward Merlin, capturing him in the maelstrom he had created. He reaches his hands to wrap around Merlin's neck in a strangle hold. Merlin gasps as he feels the other's hands tighten and close off his air. The swirling dust blinds him, as the two men stagger clumsily around the room. Merlin suddenly bends down, pretending to fall, forcing Malus to follow his movement. He reaches into the side of his right boot, and grabs his pocketknife. Rearing up, with Malus's hands still encircling his throat, Merlin stabs the taller man in his abdomen. Malus screeches in surprise and pain, releasing Merlin and his spell.

The whirlwind ceases suddenly. In the calm that follows, Merlin stands tall with his feet spread wide, his back to the entrance to the room. He narrows his eyes, directing their golden power with his left arm outstretched to immobilize the other sorcerer where he stands, facing him. He has his knife in his other hand, also held out in front of him. Then he hesitates, not moving further. He cannot do it. Angry at himself, he struggles to force himself to find the will. He doesn't want to kill, no matter that the other man invited the challenge. It seems so cold-blooded to simply take another's life in this way. He takes a deep breath and a tentative step forward, steeling himself to make the lunge to drive home the blade.

Arthur bursts through the doorway to the tower room and sees Merlin, his hands held awkwardly out in front of his body, one with a small blade, face to face with an older man with a thin face and long lank black hair, who is standing unnaturally still. He sees Merlin take a slow step toward the other man.

"Merlin! What the hell are you doing?" Arthur yells from the doorway.