Chapter 28
The next hours tested Arthur like nothing ever had. The remains the Saxon army dissolved, leaving peasants, soldiers, boys, and grey beards in a varying degrees of trouble. The peasants and soldiers fared well. Once they were quit of the spell, and had taken nourishment and had rested, most of them were fine.
Arthur, Leon, and the Byron brothers worked through the peasants, helping them to decide whether to return home, head to the safety of the citadel, to join the standing army or to assist with the young and the old.
The old in the Saxon army suffered. Many of the grey beards lay down on the ground and died in the exact spot where the spell had left them. But not all of them died. Some lay down from exhaustion, and then no longer had strength to stand up. Each body on the ground needed to be checked. The dead needed to be buried, the living, carried into the village before they joined the dead. The tavern became a haven of heat and care for the elderly.
The young fared worst of all. The adults in the group seemed to recover from the spell without problems in their mind. Boys as young as 10 or 12 had been taken into the army. The younger the boy, the worse his mind was affected. The youngest boys became either comatose or were aggressive. The comatose boys were given to the women in the village, the aggressive ones were turned over the knights of Camelot.
By nightfall, the people had settled, either into makeshift camps, in the homes of the villagers, or in the tavern.
The moon rose, full and bright, over the village square. Gwaine led a group of soldiers, 600 strong into the center. The knights came first, their mail and swords glittering in the moon's white light. The army fell in behind, overwhelming the small space with bodies.
Arthur stood on a table at the North end of the square. Gwaine approached and with a leg up from William Byron, joined Arthur on the table.
"Countrymen," Gwaine announced. "I, Gwaine, son the late king, have your loyalty. I am the servant and knight of Arthur called Pendragon of Camelot. Our county is no more. If we wish to survive the onslaught, we must align to Camelot. I hold you. Arthur holds me. Arthur needs us all."
"Friends," Arthur continued, "I cannot pretend that the battles ahead will be easy. But if we align our forces, bring our combined strength to face down the Saxon hoard, it can be won. Only by bringing all of Albion under one banner can we face down this enemy. I ask your allegiance, your fighting spirit, your will to defend your home. I ask you to become my knights, the knights that will drive this disgusting hoard from our lands. I ask you to pledge to Camelot and Albion."
Someone in the crowd, Lancelot probably, yelled, "Camelot"
The crowd answered in a dull whisper, "Camelot."
William and Gwaine picked up the chant and yelled louder "Camelot!"
This time the yell was louder and more clear, "Camelot!"
Then, "King Arthur."
"King Arthur!" The yell made Arthur's ears ring, but his chest filled with pride.
The yells become louder at each repetition until Arthur held up his hand. "Come forward and pledge your service."
It took nearly 3 hours for all the knights and soldiers to make pledges to Arthur and Camelot. Leon kept official count and list of names, but from Arthur's estimation, he had nearly doubled his knights and soldiers. Gwaine and a group of other trustworthy looking knights were sent off to the west to find the rest of Caerleon's forces and any troupes that they could muster from Merica. He sent another group of knights east, another South. They were to meet at the North road in 3 days, bring all of the Albion forces together in one group to burn the Saxons to the ground.
As he ate dinner in the tavern, the elderly soldiers lying half dead and dying all around, the strangeness of the situation hit him.
He became King Arthur while his father still lived. He wasn't king of Camelot, he was King of Caerleon and if the knights had their way, of all the other broken, defeated realms of Albion.
Dyfed, one of Byron's sons, began calling him High King. A king of kings, he explained, the title the Romans of old called their savior. The religion had hold in the corners of the land, despite the fact the Romans had left several generations back. High King sounded much better than King Arthur of Caerleon, so he let it be.
High King Arthur allied himself to a sorcerer. At the moment, the sorcerer looked like death warmed over. He passed out after the battle and hadn't awoken since. Leon tucked him inside the home of the old woman he saved. Obviously, Arthur needed a sorcerer to fight the magic his enemy used. Clearly, sorcery was illegal, punishable by death.
High King Arthur's most trusted advisors were the three oldest sons of a man who he had just accused of treason.
All of those facts added together would make his father so angry, if the man could leave his chambers, he would have killed Arthur with his own two hands. Except for the bit where he was king of Caerleon's nation, he wouldn't be angry about that, he would be outraged at how it happened; that Arthur had the audacity to knight commoners, just not the outcome.
Yet, in his heart, he knew that he was following the right course. The coming battle required both magic and cunning to win, and both of them fell into his lap. His father might have had them all executed, but Arthur had common sense. He would rather be king than be dead. His people would rather have magic return to the kingdom then be overrun by the Saxons.
He felt optimistic for the first time in weeks. He felt like they had a chance, that things could work out okay. He ate his stew and drank the cider the tavern owner provided and felt something like relaxation settle down his neck and shoulders.
The world turned black.
Not the blackness of night, not the blackness of a candle going out, this was the complete absence of any kind of light. People around him grunted in surprise, a few women screamed.
"William?" Arthur asked.
"I'm here, sire."
"Can you see?"
"No, my lord."
"What is this?" Arthur asked.
"Magic," said Dyfed, "We're under attack."
Arthur stood up, stumbled over a stool, and nearly fell over. He caught himself, cursed, and then said, "What?"
"We're under attack," Dyfed repeated. "Can I use magic my lord without the threat of execution?"
"You have clemency so long as you use your magic for the good of Camelot and its people. Any other use will not be tolerated," Arthur said.
Arthur swore that Dyfed said something rude under his breath, not unlike Merlin, but the next sound Arthur heard was chanting in a raw old language. A second later, Arthur could see an orange red light, like the bright spark of freshly lighted fire. It sat content in Dyfed's palm, like a glowing oriole.
Once Arthur's eyes adjusted to the new light, he realized it didn't spread like it should have. Its rays pressed against the darkness, but didn't dispel it. A torch of similar size would have thrown light into all corners of the room.
"Can't you make it brighter," William asked his brother, his face swimming in shadows.
"I'm putting as much juice in it as I can," Dyfed said. "It should be brighter."
"Why isn't it?" Arthur asked.
"Why did all the other lights go out?" Dyfed snapped, his voice strained. Arthur could see beads of sweat forming on his face.
"It's enough," William said in a deep placating voice. "Can you lead us to the attackers?"
"Yeah," Dyfed mumbled. "I think so."
Arthur followed the brothers out into the main courtyard of the tiny village. Sound came from everywhere, but muted, as if the darkening spell turned the sound down as well. Arthur could hear horses in the pasture, but they seemed far off. He could hear whispering anxious voices, but they were too soft to discern direction.
Then as they drew closer to the center of the square, he could hear shouts, yells, and screams. All at once, a huge white light flooded the entire center of town. Arthur blinked several times to clear the after images burned into his retinas. When he did, he saw Merlin standing in the center
White light surrounded Merlin, pouring off of him like sweat. He glowed like moonlight. Arthur could sense the immense power behind it. It took a couple of seconds for logic to catch up and realize why. Merlin had cast his "identify magic users with moonlight" spell on himself. Even in the murkiness surrounding the village, Merlin shown brighter by a magnitude of a hundred than anyone he had cast the spell earlier that day.
Saxons surrounded Merlin on all four sides. Each had a hand up and muttered something not quite discernable. Then one by one, energy flowed out of the Saxon sorcerers. Ripples of blue light caught Merlin around the waist, neck, and both legs. The light solidified into what looked like ropes. Each of the Saxon's pulled back at the same time and Merlin fell flat on his back.
Arthur screamed, "No!" He charged toward the nearest sorcerer, drawing his sword. He was half way through the swing before the sorcerer turned his head and Arthur flew halfway across the courtyard. He landed on his hands and knees and then slid, feeling pain rip through his hands and arms as he slid across the mud and cobblestones.
"No," Merlin bellowed.
Merlin, still prone, rolled and grabbed one of the light ropes with his hand and pushed through it. The rope vanished with a crack like lightening. The sorcerer who conjured it, staggered to his knees.
While Arthur pulled himself off the ground, Merlin's cousin Dyfed threw his fireball toward the nearest sorcerer. At the last possible second, the sorcerer caught it, and threw it back. Dyfed ducked and the fireball hit the house behind him. The thatching in the roof caught fire.
Arthur regained his feet just in time to see the William catch the sorcerer behind Merlin in a full body tackle. Then he pounded the man with his fists until Arthur saw his neck snap off to one side. The light cords coming from him flickered and then died.
Merlin gained his feet, despite still being held by the light cord around his waist and his leg. He squared his shoulders to the one with the cord around his waist. Merlin brought his right arm up over his head and then with a tugging motion, he threw his hand down.
The sky opened up with a pouring rain. Lightning, blue white and brilliant, smote the sorcerer down. A horrible smell of ozone and burning flesh hit Arthur's nostrils as he blinked to try and regain his vision. Once his eyes cleared, he stared at the dead sorcerer's blank face, a black hole in the middle of his torso. Arthur blinked several times and shook his head back and forth to clear his thoughts. Merlin, his idiot servant Merlin, just brought lightening out of sky at his command.
Merlin's cousin Dyfed murmured somewhere to his right, "Dear God."
"Can you do that?" William yelled over to his brother.
"Nobody can do that," Dyfed yelled back.
Then as quickly as the darkness had appeared, it evaporated like it had never been. Sunlight, such as it was through the new thunderstorm, returned to the village. It was glaring against the intense blackness.
The warlock who had Merlin around the leg with the light rope walked closer to Merlin. The man chanted in voice too low for Arthur to hear. The color of the light changed from blue to yellow and then to white.
Merlin froze. The blood drained from his face and he fell back to the ground, limp, like a child's doll tossed onto the ground.
"No," Arthur yelled, and once again charged, his sword out in front of him.
The sorcerer bent down and picked Merlin up, throwing him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. He gave Arthur a cold menacing smile. Then with a chant, a wind picked up and he vanished, Merlin's unconscious body with him.
"NO!" Arthur screamed, his heart wrenching as his friend disappeared into the gloomy rain. "NO!" He screamed again.
He turned to face the sorcerers left in the clearing. Three were left. The one struck down by lightening was dead. Another's head faced backward, also dead, courtesy of William Byron. The third was on his knees, dazed.
Arthur, in his fury, rushed the man and leveled his sword at his throat, cutting it just enough to startle the sorcerer.
His ugliness had no comparison. Blood ran down his throat. His left eye had a thick scar that pulled the whole eye down on one side. His face was a ruddy underneath the dirt and pallor of his injuries. His hair came to his shoulders in a mess of dirty tangles. His clothing had been roughly hewn out of animal skins, poorly tanned, that stank.
"Sire, no," Dyfed called.
Too late. Arthur flew across the clearing again as the man's light blue eyes flashed gold. Arthur landed in a heap, rolling to miss falling on his own sword. By the time he had staggered to his knees, all three of Byron's sons approached the sorcerer. Dyfed stood in front, holding a fireball in his hand. He and the sorcerer held each other in a death stare. Then with uncanny speed and coordination, the other two sons, Malcolm and William leveled sword into his flanks.
The sorcerer turned as the metal bit into his flesh, toward Malcolm. His eyes flashed gold and Malcolm went flying. Then the man screamed as William drove his sword home, through his other side. The sorcerer fell to his knees. William dropped his sword, grabbed the man's head and twisted hard to the left. He fell forward, his blank eyes looking over his left shoulder.
William pulled his sword out and headed toward Arthur. He reached out and pulled Arthur the rest of the way to his feet.
"I wanted him alive," Arthur snapped, fury pounding his ears.
"No, you didn't," William said giving him a concerned once over with his eyes. "Are you all right?"
"No, I'm not. You killed that man before we could question him. Merlin is the key to the plan to defeat them. That man could have told us where they took Merlin," Arthur said. "Now we've got nothing."
"Had he lived, he would have been a threat. He wouldn't have stopped using magic until he killed everyone in the village. Without Dyfed looking like a threat, we couldn't have overcome him."
"But now, Merlin's…" Arthur broke off, grief mixing with the anger, not wanted to say aloud what he thought.
"He's not dead," William said. "If they wanted him dead, he would be dead, not captured."
"Then what…" Arthur began again and broke off again.
"Do they want with him?" William completed. "Nothing good."
"But what do we do? How do we find him? Can we find him?"
The other sons of Byron arrived, Dyfed supporting a dazed looked Malcolm, Leon, Lancelot, and a half a dozen others joined them in the courtyard.
Leon spoke up first, "They most likely took him back to their encampment."
"We have to be sure," Arthur said. "Our entire strategy is based around Merlin's magic."
Dyfed murmured, almost too quiet to hear, "There is a spell, where one relative uses their own blood to find a missing family member. I think it's called a blood to blood spell."
"Do it," Arthur demanded.
Dyfed's face morphed to despair, "I've heard of the spell, my liege, in tales and from old crones. I have no idea how to cast it. I didn't study magic."
"Then how did you know to do … the fireball thing? " Arthur asked.
Despite the circumstances, both William and Malcolm started to laugh, hard, from deep in their bellies. Malcolm's legs wobbled underneath him, but Dyfed dropped him and Malcolm fell to his knees. Dyfed's face bloomed brilliant red. The others in the group looked either uncomfortable or started to chuckle along.
"What?" Arthur asked, annoyance bubbling over his anger.
William choked out between giggles, as he pulled his brother back to his feet, "There was a girl."
Malcolm continued also between breaths, "He was gone over her."
William went on, "He was showing off."
"I was not," Dyfed snapped.
Malcolm choked out, "He set her dress on fire."
"It's not funny," Dyfed fumed.
"It doesn't sound funny," Arthur agreed looking between the two young men in disgust.
"She wasn't hurt," William said, taking a deep breath. "Not even burnt."
Malcolm laughed even harder. "She wasn't even a she."
"No, she wasn't." William said, laughing even harder.
Malcolm went on, "She pulled her dress off to put out the fire and let's just say, a lot more was revealed than her modesty."
Dyfed pulled out another fireball out of the air. "Shut up, both of you."
Arthur shot back, "But what does that have to do with magic?"
"What they are trying to say," Dyfed said through clenched teeth, "Is that magic is instinctual. When it comes out for the first time, the caster has no control over it at all. When they are having some powerful feeling,"
"Like lust perhaps," William suggested.
Dyfed threw the fireball at his brother. William, with obvious practice, pulled a dagger from his belt and knocked the fireball to the ground, where is fizzled out.
"It's hard to control. This fireball is the only thing I can do. That and talk to my brother's in their heads. And they can't talk back." Dyfed said with an evil smile. "Like this."
Suddenly both Malcolm and William fell silent and winced, closing their eyes, like they were in pain.
"I hate it when he does that," Malcolm complained.
"You didn't mind it when you went up against the sorcerer."
"No, you're right. Your magic has been helpful." William said. "Sorry Dyfed. We shouldn't pick on something that you can't control. And none of us knew that the woman was a man." William poked Malcolm hard in the ribs.
"Oh," Malcolm said. "Yeah, um… I'm sorry, Dyfed."
"Yeah, I believe you," Dyfed said with a grimace.
"What do you need to do to find Merlin?" Arthur asked.
"I need the spell," Dyfed answered.
"Where can you find it?"
"I've heard rumors that the library in Camelot still has some old texts."
"Surely not," Arthur said. "My father destroyed everything magic."
"It's there or nowhere," Dyfed said. "The best bet of finding what we need would be in the citadel."
"How much time does Merlin have?" Malcolm asked, looking ill.
"Depends," Leon said.
"On what?" Arthur asked.
"On how long he can withstand being tortured," Leon sighed.
Arthur felt his insides turn icy. Even in his worst nightmares, he never could have predicted this. Merlin tortured, Merlin used and abused. Damn it, that wasn't supposed to happen. He was the warrior. It should have been him, not Merlin. His job was to protect Merlin, it always had been. It was his job to do the suffering, the killing, the soul wrenching decisions that could make or break an entire kingdom. That wasn't supposed to happen to Merlin. Merlin was supposed to…
Arthur felt it hit him with the weight of thousand arrows piercing his back. Merlin's job was to heal, to advise, and to find possibilities where there were none. Merlin filled in his gaps, made him consider possibilities that his father wouldn't. Merlin acted as his sounding board, he and Merlin together made one damn good ruler. Without him, Arthur was nothing more than a talented swordsman.
"Then we need to get back to Camelot," Arthur said. "We need to get him back."
