Chapter 29: The Battle of Mount Badon, part 2

Arthur ducked an incoming blade and thrust his sword forward into his opponent's stomach. When he took it out, the man fell to the ground limply.

From the corner of his eyes, someone sporting colours that weren't Camelot's nor Saxony's caught his attention. It turned out to be Merlin, on the ground, powerless, about to be struck by an armed Saxon.

Years of strict military training took over as he reached for the dagger at his belt and threw it straight at the Saxon. He stayed and watched just long enough to make sure he had reached his target and to see him fall dead before returning to the battle.

Merlin really was useless. Even with his magic, he apparently still couldn't make up for his lack of combat skills.

The sorcerers weren't going to be enough to help them win this. They had to cut this battle short. And sometimes, the best way to kill a monster was to cut off its head, he thought as he observed Colgrin in the distance, a little away from the battlefield. Without their leader to give them orders, the soldiers would probably back out and stop fighting...

"Sir Leon!" he hailed the knight fighting a few paces away. "Take over the leadership of my unit," he ordered with a gesture towards his men, "I'll go try and intercept Colgrin!"

"Sire, no!" Leon protested. "This is folly! You can't do that on your own, if you get isolated from -"

Arthur didn't hear the end of his warning. Actually, he hadn't listened at all, and was already heading towards Colgrin.


As Merlin waited for the inevitable fatal blow, it never came. The Saxon's swing suddenly stopped as the man froze entirely with an empty gaze. Then, almost in slow motion, he collapsed to the ground, half on top of Merlin.

His heart still racing, Merlin pushed the body away to free himself. Once he was unhindered, he discovered a dagger planted in the man's back. As he stood up and looked around to identify his saviour, he barely had the time to see Arthur in the distance before the Prince disappeared in the chaos of the battle again.

Merlin looked back down to the dagger: straight to the heart. From over a hundred feet away. He would not mock those ridiculous exercises Arthur did during practise again, he promised himself.

He jumped when a group of fighting soldiers brushed past him. This was his wake up call. He really had to get a grip, the battle was far from over. He knelt and picked up the communication stone he had dropped in his fall.

Once again, in his mind, he heard every word his comrades were uttering. They were still all actively fighting the Saxons and protecting Camelot's knights. He had to keep going too.

"Brengan Bill," he whispered, almost without thinking about it.

A knight, knocked down to the ground, suddenly found his sword within his reach. After casting a few more spells, Merlin took an overall glance at the battlefield.

"Kay, the knights on your side are overwhelmed, what's going on? You have to give them a hand!" he urged.

He heard nothing other than the usual spell casting from his fellow sorcerers.

"Kay? Did you hear me?"

It wasn't Kay's voice that answered him, but Berlewen's, the witch the closest to Kay's theoretical position.

"I saw him being attacked a while ago," she said. "I... I think Kay's dead, Merlin."

Merlin took a second to digest the news.

It was his fault. Entirely and completely his fault. He had dragged all of them into this unprepared. Even he who wasn't fighting his first battle would have died too if it weren't for Arthur's intervention.

"Berlewen, move East to cover Kay's ground," he ordered reluctantly.

He prayed inwardly he wasn't sending the witch to her own death, but they didn't have much choice. They had to keep going.

"All right," Berlewen agreed.

"Merlin, the Saxons keep progressing, here," Garridan informed him. "I'll be behind them and out of the battlefield soon. Should I follow?"

"Yes," Merlin concurred, "but be careful when you move. Don't get noticed."

A few other sorcerers took the opportunity to ask him for instructions as well. Merlin advised them the best he could, hoping he was making the right decisions. But in truth, he was probably just as confused as the others were.

The Saxons were many, and they were everywhere. He had absolutely no idea who had the upper hand, but judging from what his fellow sorcerers were reporting, it didn't sound good. Despite all their efforts, no matter where he looked, Camelot's red colours still seemed too few compared to the flood of blue that was the Saxon army. Not to mention that his extensive and repeated use of magic over a short span of time was beginning to take its toll on him.

Things weren't going as well as he had initially thought while still intoxicated by the excitement of the battle. But his assessment of the current situation was suddenly made completely irrelevant by an unexpected event.


Arthur kept advancing through the ongoing battle, slashing here, cutting there, still headed for Colgrin. But in split seconds, his progression was interrupted with violence.

Just ahead of him, coming out of nowhere. A gigantic burst of flames. He instinctively protected his eyes from the light and heat with his forearm, but the blast soon caught up with him. It was so strong it knocked him off his feet.

It took him a few seconds to recover from the intensity of the blow and to stand up again. And when he looked up, a vision of horror awaited him.

Flames as high as trees. The heat, almost unbearable. Panic. Screaming of fear and death. The flames subsided slowly, but the damage was already done. Dozens of men, from both sides, were laying lifeless on the ground. Most burnt to the point of not being identifiable any more.

Those flames weren't natural. And as tears of anger started to fill his eyes, Arthur cursed at himself for ever agreeing to Merlin's plan. Magic users could not be trusted.

There was a new burst of flames, a little away this time. Arthur barely had the time to see a hooded silhouette close to the new disaster area before it vanished in the distance.

But he had more urgent matters to deal with than to chase this lone sorcerer. Even Colgrin would have to wait.

He ran ahead, grabbed a wounded by the shoulders, and dragged him away from the residual flames. When he was done, he moved to another to do the same. He didn't care whether these men were one of his or one of Colgrin's.


Flames. Magic, evidently. Way too visible, but also way too dangerous for both armies. Merlin could understand resorting to stronger spells under the pressure, like he had done, but going to this length was unacceptable.

"Who did that?" he demanded, almost yelling.

A chorus of "not me" echoed in his mind.

"We had all agreed to use only non visible spells," Merlin insisted, forcing himself to speak in a lower voice. "And we're trying to protect Camelot's soldiers, not to have them killed along with the Saxons! So who did this?"

All the voices he heard were as confused as he was. According to the flames position, the one of them that was probably the closest was Morgana.

"Morgana, was that you?" he asked, but got no answer. He was beginning to have a bad feeling about this. "Morgana, if it was you, stop! You're going to blow your cover!" he continued.

The only answer he got was a new burst of flames, a little away from the first.

"Morgana, what are you doing? Stop this immediately!"

His plea was ignored again.

Merlin suddenly realised that if he wanted her to stop, he would have to go there and stop her himself. She was on the other side of the battlefield. There were hundreds of soldiers standing between them. This was suicidal. But he had no other choice. He couldn't let her behave so recklessly and endanger everyone around her.

Merlin picked up the shield from the body of the Saxon killed by Arthur earlier, took a few deep breaths, and started running.


They were all out harm's way, there was nothing else he could do, Arthur concluded after dragging several soldiers away from the flames, joined by a few others in his efforts. They were still at war, he should not forget that, and it was far from over.

Arthur resumed heading towards Colgrin, still resolute to do whatever was necessary to stop him and his army. The way was surprisingly clear ahead of him. Both armies had been disoriented by the violence and suddenness of the magical fire.

It might work to his advantage...


How he had survived crossing the entire battlefield while the combat was still raging around him, Merlin had no idea. A strong survival instinct maybe. And possibly the fact that many soldiers were still distracted by the flames.

But as it turned out, he may have reached the place where Morgana was supposed to be staying, she wasn't there.

"Morgana, where are you?" he whispered, but as he expected, she still didn't answer.

He was about to call again when his gaze fell on a dark stone, almost black, on the ground. The same stone as the one he currently held in his fist. Morgana's communication stone, left behind carelessly.

What was wrong with him? Why did he keep trusting her when she clearly had an agenda of her own? Was she still following Colgrin's orders? Had she sided with him, choosing to fight against her own Kingdom and her own kinsmen?

But he had wanted to believe in her, to believe in her regrets. This was the last time he made that mistake. He was going to find her, and to stop her from doing any more damage. No matter what it took.