The Fall of Avalon
Godric found himself in a nightmare he could not wake up from. He remained frozen, staring numbly at Morwenna's lifeless body and unable to grasp that the fair lady who had shown him the same love and devotion that she would have showered upon a son she could never conceive, was dead. Without thinking, Godric looked for his wand and absentmindedly summoned it to his outstretched hand before conjuring a cloak from the air. With trembling hands, Godric gently draped it over Morwenna, hiding the evidence of her violent demise from prying eyes.
'Godric,' he heard a familiar voice call his name, but he took no heed of it. He just continued to stare at the corpse beside him. Morwenna had been one of the kindest and most noble women that Godric had known and all those who spent time in her company came to admire and adore her. She had not deserved to end her life so violently.
'Godric,' the voice said again, this time whispered close to his ear. Disturbed from his reverie, Godric turned to find Rowena kneeling in the waterlogged mud beside him. Her face and robes were marked by the desperate battle and tears fell freely, leaving trails through the smeared soot and splattered blood that stained her face.
'Rowena?' he asked dumbly as if his sluggish mind was unable to discern who she was through the burning pain in his wounded shoulder and heart. He didn't even realise that the world he had called his home was dying in the fires around them.
'Oh Godric,' she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him. Her slim frame shook uncontrollably as she sobbed into his unwounded shoulder, her tears dampening the battered tabard which hung in tatters from mutilated armour. Godric wished he could comfort her or feel as elated as he once would have been if he found himself in Rowena's embrace, but he was struggling to muster any emotion which could fill the chasm that had impaled his heart. He neither cursed nor shed a tear for the loss he had suffered.
Rowena shifted slightly and when her body pressed against the charred wound, Godric couldn't resist flinching and hissing at the pain. They parted clumsily, Rowena staring at him in alarm.
'You're hurt?'
'It's nothing,' Godric grunted weakly. Rowena eyed the scorched and mangled mail skeptically.
'It doesn't seem like it,'
'Later,' Godric deflected her mounting concern, 'I'll cope with the pain. As long as I can still wield a sword or wand then I'll be fine.'
'Good,' Salazar announced as he approached them, his boots squelching in the mud.
'Still alive?' Godric asked grimly, unable to muster a smile.
'I've felt better,' Salazar nodded, grimacing at Godric's wound, 'I hope you can still fight. You may need too by the end of the day.'
'You think we're still danger?' said Godric, rising stiffly to his feet and relying on Rowena to steady him.
'Maybe,' Salazar admitted, 'some of Bellême's men could still be lurking out there in the glades, although our stone friends may have seen to them all. However, if not Bellême, then we may have to fight our way out of these bloody fires. If they get any worse, then none of us will need a funeral pyre.'
Rowena flinched at his callous tone. Godric ignored it, for he had known Salazar longer and could sense the hurt his friend was struggling to contain. It was a hurt which only increased when Salazar's gaze dropped to the cloaked figure at their feet. His jaw clenched and a muscle twitched,
'Morwenna?'
'Dead,' Godric said bluntly. Rowena shivered beside and released another pained sob. This time, with his dulled senses returning, Godric had to resist the urge to comfort her. It would do little good when he could not even comfort himself. Salazar closed his eyes, visibly wrestling with his fraught emotions. Like Godric, Salazar had already lost a mother. For a second motherly figure to be taken from them, especially so violently, was a cruel blow.
'She will be avenged,' he muttered coldly when he reopened her eyes. Godric nodded, concurring with a silent promise that Salazar would not pursue any revenge alone. The Lady of Avalon was dead and those responsible would pay for it in blood.
'The feud can wait,' Rowena interjected gravely, wiping the tears from her reddened eyes,
'Our shieldmaiden is right,' Salazar said, recovering his wits to glance at Rowena fondly, 'Avalon has fallen; no one can deny that. Those who survived Bellême's attack are mostly women and children, and a lot of our friends are wounded and need healing. We must find them refuge away from these fires.'
'Could we not flee into the marshes?' Rowena asked, 'the damp air should keep the fires from spreading off the island and the mists could hide us if Bellême returns.'
'It may hide us from Bellême,' Salazar grumbled, 'but it will not defend us against all the dangers we could face. There are foul creatures in those marshes who can reach us in the mists, lured by the smell of blood. I think our best hope is to get away from here as swiftly as we can.'
'And go where?' Rowena exclaimed in frustration, 'there are no other strongholds nearby and our allies are across the Severn.'
'Black-Hollow,' Godric murmured softly, provoking both his friends to stare at him.
'Black-Hollow?' Rowena asked dumbly, unfamiliar with the name.
'It's my manor,' Godric advised, 'I may not be a great magnate like Alain, but it should suffice. When I became the Lord of Black-Hollow, Alain insisted on placing powerful wards along its borders. They will ensure that our people have the refuge they seek.'
'Good,' Salazar agreed, 'we should also send a message to Mynydd-y-ser. Lord Gofanon will want to know what happened here.'
'What about Lord Alain?'
'He may already know,' Salazar stammered hesitantly, the fear of having to tell the Lord of Avalon that his beloved wife was dead filled him with dread, 'but if he doesn't, then it is our duty to tell him. We promised Alain that we would return to aid him.'
'If he still lives,' Godric mumbled, remembering Bellême's earlier assertion that the Lord of Avalon would have been killed, 'Melusine may have already reached him.'
'It doesn't matter,' Salazar replied stubbornly, 'I'm still going to try and find him.'
'Then we must hurry,' Godric growled, 'we'll see to our dead and wounded. Then those of us who can still fight will leave to find him. I'll not let Alain fall into Melusine's hands…'
'I don't know what is happening to Lord Alain,' Rowena said, resting a hand on Godric's arm supportively, 'but there are other tasks we must attend to before we return to battle. Yusuf is dead, but we are also in danger of losing all the knowledge of our world he's accumulated. We must not let it perish in the flames, not when Yusuf dedicated his life to preserving it.'
'We also have several prisoners,' Salazar remarked, watching Godric warily as his friend tensed at the news, 'and one of them is Villon. I'd like to interrogate them before we are done here. Then we can decide what we are to do with them.'
'It is already decided,' Godric growled harshly, 'they die!'
Rowena recoiled, startled by Godric's ruthlessness and even Salazar raised a questioning eyebrow.
'You're sure?' Salazar asked evenly,
'They die,' Godric reiterated angrily, a trace of his returning fury escaping him and dissuading his companions from arguing with him. Rowena looked as if she wished to retort, but any argument she may have mustered died on her lips when Salazar shook his head at her, pleading for her to hold her tongue. He recognised the dark look in Godric's eyes and knew that his friend was struggling to control the madness which was threatening to return. Salazar had faced it once before and had no wish to see it again now the battle was over.
'So be it,' Salazar resolved, 'I'll help Rowena salvage what we can from Yusuf's tower and any supplies which remain in the stores. It'll demand a basic knowledge of ancient writings and Godric can't tell the difference between a sacred tome and a privy sponge. Godric, help bring the wounded and dead into the bailey. They'll be safe enough from the fire here.'
Despite the tragedy unfolding around them, Godric smiled faintly at the poor jest. If Godric was being honest, there was some truth to it.
They sped off to complete their assigned tasks, Salazar leading Rowena towards Yusuf's tower whilst Godric trudged back towards the blood drenched hall. The Scottish maiden seemed reluctant to leave Godric's side, but the need to save Yusuf's trove of countless treasures from the encroaching flames was great and so she followed Salazar up the winding staircase and left Godric to see to the survivors.
Whilst Stone-Bedwyr returned to the bailey and helped carry the bloodied corpses of Tancred and Dunstan until they lay beside the Lady of Avalon, Godric slipped into the scorched keep. He didn't spare a glance for the broken corpses of the men who had tried to impede his pursuit of Bellême, but he did pause when he finally reached Lambert.
Avalon's steward had never been a fighting man. Yet, he had died with an unwieldy sword clasped in his hand, sacrificing his life to bravely hold the door against a tide of enemies he had no hope of overcoming. A remorseful Godric remembered the trouble he had plagued Lambert with in life, the constant battle of pranks and punishment they had played. He regretted it now, staring down at the poor man's lifeless eyes. Stone grating upon stone alerted Godric to Stone-Bedwyr's presence as the statue raised the steward into his mighty arms and strode towards the bailey, leaving Godric to clamber over the rubble and enter the hall.
Godric was met by a chorus of relieved cries when the assembled survivors saw him. Wounds were already being tended too and the dead grieved over. Many faces expressed anguish over the losses they had suffered and some even embraced him, weeping and thanking him repeatedly. Godric was their saviour, for he had led the reinforcements who had stormed the hall to save their lives and it was the young knight's sword which had first started to tear the enemy asunder.
Gervais was alive, his body strained by the marks of battle as he held a pale-faced, wide-eyed Delwen in his quivering arms. Honest Belin still lived and the monk embraced him wearily, his hands still trembling from the recent fight. Ella had also survived, but she did not embrace him. The whore was fastidiously tending to the wounds Hamon had suffered, whose usually gentile face now resembled a terrifying mask as blood spurted from the untended head wound and his cursed hand throbbed in agony. When she glanced Godric's way as he approached and her grim features softened in recognition. Hamon did not conceal his relief at seeing his friend alive.
'Thank Christ you're alright,' Hamon exclaimed as he made to stand, only for Ella's hands to force him back down as she chastised him gently, provoking a sheepish smile from Hamon, 'I feared the worse when I saw you go after Bellême. Is the bastard dead?'
'He lives,' Godric grunted sourly. Hamon cursed and shrugged in resignation,
'He'll die one day,' Hamon assured Godric, before gesturing at the chaos around them, 'and he'll pay for what he's done here.'
Godric followed Hamon's gaze and beheld the scale of the devastation inflicted upon his home for the first time. The great hall was in disarray, littered with corpses, scattered rubble and shredded furnishings. No great tapestries hung along the walls and the decorations which had once shone with the majesty of a long gone era either stood ignored by the survivors or had fallen in battle. His hopes that Avalon had not fallen were instantly dashed. The castle was ruined.
Godric still did not weep.
'He deserves it,' Ella snapped bitterly. There were ancient rules which governed the magical world and making war on women and children went against everyone. But Bellême didn't abide by bygone traditions and Avalon had paid for it in blood and horror, 'it takes a special kind of evil to delight in using swords and spells on the innocent.'
She glanced at Godric and momentarily met the young knight's gaze, but the intensity of it made her recoil, her face paling rapidly. It went unnoticed and the crackle of burning thatch as the fires spread to the timber rafters soon forced the survivors to evacuate the hall. As the wounded and fallen were hurried towards the safety of the bailey, Godric led a few brave men in a desperate search for any survivors who had sought sanctuary elsewhere. Sannan was amongst the lucky few to be found alive, crawling out of the foul-smelling privy tunnels in tears. However, the corpses of several maids were also discovered and the suffering inflicted upon them in their last torturous moments brewed a fresh wave of hatred for Bellême and the dogs who followed him.
Once the keep had been evacuated, they set about tending to the worst of their injuries. Isobel the Enchantress, her arm bleeding from where a curse had mutilated it, was also grief stricken as she stubbornly refused to leave her dead brother's side. Her tears spoke of the hurt which ravaged her. Assessing the damage done to Avalon's inhabitants, Godric was relieved that Bellême had not rallied his followers and renewed the attack. The defiance shown by the survivors had seeped away and now they neither had the strength nor will to throw the devil back. Seeing the risk and having proven themselves worthy of the prowess they'd displayed in life, Godric ordered the remaining stone sentinels to march to the damaged gate and continue to guard it against any lingering threat.
Efnysien had also survived the battle. Godric wasn't surprised, for, despite his belligerent nature, Owain ap Cadwgan had proved to be a ferocious fighter. He surprised Godric with a good-natured embrace and laughed heartily. Tired but unscathed, there was no sign of the misplaced rivalry which had plagued the pair since they had met in Mynydd-y-ser and their recent quarrels were seemingly forgotten.
'Merlin, you can fight,' Efnysien exclaimed complimentarily, 'I'm no liar, so I will not deny being skeptical of the praise lauded upon you. But it seems like I was mistaken. You fight like an ancient god of war.'
'I'm not the only one,' Godric acknowledged humbly, waving the Welshman's praise away, 'the bards should sing of your prowess.' Godric had not seen Efnysien fight, but his bloodied apparel and fierce nature were a testament to his status as a warrior. Efnysien beamed with pride at Godric's praise, clapped the fellow knight on the back and then went to see to his wounded kinsmen.
Godric watched him leave in bemusement, before turning to face the three prisoners. They huddled together in the mud, battered, bruised and bleeding. The two men-at-arms were subdued, their heads bowed forlornly as they tried to ignore the threats hissed at them by Avalon's angry survivors. Only Villon looked unconcerned and he dared to return Godric's gaze, an amused smile gracing his lips which glowed with stubborn defiance. Godric had the sudden impulse to beat the smile from Villon's face and the flicker of rage which stirred in the pit of his stomach almost wrestled free. Exhaling a shuddering breath, Godric regained control and turned slowly away. He would deal with the prisoners later, but first, he needed to hear what had happened during the early stages of Bellême's raid.
A soot covered Salazar and Rowena reappeared shortly after Godric and the surviving wizards had been forced to cast a series of spells on any salvageable wood they could find and assembled them into makeshift carts strong enough to bear the dead and more seriously wounded. Two large chests brimming with disordered scrolls and loose parchments floated in the air behind the pair, where they were also joined by Yusuf's levitated body which they had rescued from the flames. They left the bodies of three men in the tower, two of which had died at the scholar's hands whist the third had fallen victim to the rampaging stone kelpie. Both of them were coughing and spluttering by the time they reached the bailey, dancing flames licking at their backs as Yusuf's tower was slowly consumed.
Placing their burdens onto the waiting carts, Salazar and Rowena wandered over to where Godric was having a moments respite amongst the tired servants. Rowena was deathly pale as she reached them. She was shivering as she slowly settled beside Godric and the young knight placed an arm around her shaking shoulders. No one commented upon it as Rowena leaned into him.
'We saved what we could,' Rowena stammered, 'but not all his works have survived. I dread to think of what we've lost.' Godric nodded, understanding how aggrieved Rowena would be at the loss of so much valued knowledge.
'Is it time?' Salazar asked darkly. He remained standing, his glare focused on the huddled prisoners and his hand clenching about his wand. Salazar wanted to be gone from this place so that he could go to aid Alain in his battle against Melusine.
'No,' Godric replied firmly, 'I want to hear of their misdeeds before they die.'
'Die?' Hamon spoke up groggily as Godric's ruthlessness startled him. Godric didn't reply, his brooding countenance persuading Hamon that he could not be dissuaded. Together, they turned to a reddening Rowena and waited to hear the tale of the fall of Avalon.
Rowena was walking with Morwenna beneath the sun-lit glades beyond the castle walls when the attack came. Aelflaed, the Lady of Avalon's loyal handmaiden, had followed in their wake, a demure smile playing at her lips as they basked in the sunlight. It had become a regular pastime for them when Morwenna managed to prise the younger woman away from Yusuf's mentoring and they enjoyed it immensely as they talked freely together, away from the disturbance of bustling servants going about their duties. They spoke of history, philosophy and Avalon's bygone glories which Morwenna and Alain had strived to resurrect in recent years.
The Lady of Avalon had just decided to return to the castle's gates when a keening whistle whipped through the glade. Snapping twigs and throwing leaves aside, the barbed bolt shot through the air until it thudded into Aelflaed with a sickening squelch. Rowena and Morwenna spun around to discover the handmaiden looking startled and unsteady on her feet as blood began to dampen her simple robes. Aelflaed stared at the fair lady she had spent her life serving with unfocused eyes and a trickle of scarlet escaped her lips as she tried to speak. The handmaiden took a step forwards, shuddered once and then collapsed as her life fled, her ears deaf to Morwenna's anguished cries.
The Lady of Avalon made to rush to Aelflaed's fallen corpse, but Rowena quickly grasped at her arm and tugged at it desperately, her eyes wide with terror at the sight of dark shapes chopping their way through the apple trees and the sun glinting off polished helmets. A sudden clamour rose up from fleeing creatures as swords were drawn, spurring the two women to flee. A chorus of shouts howled behind them as they fled from the glades and dashed across the stone bridge. The gates still remained open, naively awaiting their return.
Tancred and Dunstan were sparring against each other in the tiltyard when Morwenna's shrill voice rang out, warning them of the encroaching danger and ordering them to defend her castle, sending the two astonished retainers running for their weapons. The howls beyond the gate grew like thunder. Yet, the Lady of Avalon knew that there was no time to close the heavy doors before the tide of invaders overwhelmed them. Morwenna closed her eyes and released a long, shuddering breath.
'Get to the keep' Morwenna commanded Rowena in a gentle voice,
'No,' Rowena stubbornly refused, drawing her wand and looking determined to fight by Morwenna's side despite her quivering hands. A crossbow quarrel whistled overhead as flaming missiles flew over the wall and buried themselves in the mud at their feet. The shouting rose in volume, joined now by the panicked cries of the household as the confused servants and stable-hands sought shelter from the falling arrows which rained down upon them.
'Do as I say,' Morwenna suddenly snapped in a voice which was not her own and that Rowena had never heard her use before. Her violet eyes blazed as a sudden gale rose up around her, her hair flying loose from its detailed braid and the strength of it forcing Rowena back, 'do as I say and protect my household. Be brave, child, for the magic of Avalon will not stand idle whilst its people are attacked.'
Hurrying footsteps signalled the return of Tancred and Dunstan, but the Lady of Avalon didn't spare them a glance as she turned to confront the invaders storming the gate.
'Defend the keep,' she commanded as the baying wolves reached the stone bridge. Then her eyes fluttered shut and her voice rose again in song, drowning out the shouts of the enemy. Seeing that only a feeble woman confronted them, the invaders surged past the silent stone sentinels in a frenzy, their blood fired with the tantalising prospect of being the first to reach the slaves and wealth they had been promised.
However, instead of riches and women, they were greeted by an otherworldly roar which thundered from the abyss beneath them and as the first boots clattered on the stone bridge, a tremor shuddered through the very foundations of the castle. Rowena gasped aloud as a wave of magic threaten to overwhelm her senses, for the Lady of Avalon had decided she would fight rather than flee and she summoned the magic of Avalon to aid her.
In the days of the ancient ones, it was said that the water nymphs who occupied Avalon's sacred pools were granted inhuman magic by the Great Mother. There they became the spiritual guardians of the Isle of Apples, capable of wielding the power to manipulate Avalon's sacred waters and bend it to their will. They could heal wounds, slow old age and use it to defend Avalon. Morwenna, the last of those magical folk, had spent the years since marrying Alain becoming accustomed to her new role as the Lady of Avalon and the human customs it demanded. Now, with invaders threatening slaughter, she once again embraced her ancient heritage.
Great torrents and plumes of frothing water thundered from Avalon's subterranean caverns to the island's surface and struck the charging soldiers as a powerful wave, throwing them into disarray. As the water surged from scores of springs and pools, the soldiers were battered aside with punishing force and sent many screaming into the abyss. The soldiers who were so assured of their victory in the absence of the Lord of Avalon from his seat of power were suddenly thrust away, drowning and struggling against the watery tempest which confronted them.
Stood in the heart of it all was Morwenna, her arms outstretched as tendrils of water swept about her like a many armed creature from ancient legend.
With the invaders temporarily held at bay, Rowena dragged herself away from Morwenna's display of magic and ran for Yusuf's tower, tripping over her cumbersome skirts as she climbed the spiral stairwell. When she finally burst into the scholar's domain, she found him still sat as unflappable as ever at his well-worn bench, regardless of the war cries which echoed from the bailey.
'Ah, Rowena; I've just finished translating the rare passage from we've been working on. It appears that our old friend Agrippa may hold the key to this evasive spell,' Yusuf told her calmly, smiling sadly as he gently traced a finger over the pages of a colourful manuscript, 'come and see.'
'There is no time,' Rowena exclaimed urgently, 'we've been attacked and you must come.'
'Oh,' Yusuf said quietly, 'so the Lady Melusine has come at last, or sent her hound Robert of Bellême to do her bidding.'
'Lady Melusine?' Rowena spluttered in confusion. The maiden was not ignorant of the rivalry and hatred between the Lord of Avalon and Lady Melusine, but she could not believe that the last descendant of Merlin would be so bold as to launch an assault on Avalon itself. The thought of Robert of Bellême made her shiver. It was said that the Norman wizard was the greatest fae-knight in Britain, with a penchant for brutality and cruelty that knew no equal. If Bellême had come to Avalon, then only horror awaited them. She shook her head in disbelief, 'please Yusuf, come with me?'
'I'm sorry, Rowena, but I cannot leave this tower.'
'What?'
'I will not leave this tower,' Yusuf told her sternly, holding up a hand to silence the maiden's protests, 'if this is the work of Melusine, then these foul beasts have not come for Avalon, but for information about a long lost treasure which is said to be stored in one of my scrolls. I must do my best to ensure she never learns of it, for Melusine will use it to harness a great evil. I thought it was well protected, but in my arrogance, I thought Avalon was impregnable.'
'Please?' Rowena pleaded again, tears falling freely from her aggrieved eyes,
'No,' the old scholar said, 'if it is my fate to die here, then so be it. I have lived a long life and seen many things that other wizards would not dare to dream of. Besides, whilst I may be old in years, I am far from enfeebled.' He drew his wand with a flourish and smiled kindly. Then the old scholar repeated Morwenna's command, informing Rowena that she would be more use helping those who could not fight.
'Promise me,' Yusuf continued, 'that if I fall and you survive, then you will do what you can to save the knowledge stored here. This is a tragic end for Avalon, but the loss of all the knowledge and histories of our world's magic would be a loss felt for hundreds of years. What was it your mother once said? Wit before measure is a man's greatest treasure?'
'Not quite…' Rowena began to correct the mistake but was cut off with a wave of Yusuf's gnarled hand.
'Never mind,' the old scholar insisted, 'the meaning remains the same. It must not be lost!'
Rowena stared at her erstwhile mentor through a veil of tears before nodding and swearing that she would do all she could to ensure that the work Yusuf had dedicated his life to would survive his death.
'Good,' he smiled at her kindly, 'now go, and may all the gods of men and wizards watch over you.'
Rowena hesitated, still unwilling to leave the famous scholar to his doom. Then she hardened her heart and fled the tower, leaving the scholar to secure his domain from the invaders. When Rowena reached the keeps outer door, she discovered that the warriors assaulting Avalon had failed to breach had yet to breach Morwenna's magic, for the Lady of Avalon's still stood alone at the bailey's centre and her voice still giving power and direction to the rushing water.
Lambert hurried from the keep and Rowena blinked as Tancred and Dunstan soon joined them. Tancred threw the steward a sword, which a startled Lambert clumsily caught. Her heart sank when she saw how uneasy Lambert was with holding the blade aloft, for he was no warrior. 'Defend the keep,' Tancred barked at the steward, repeating Morwenna's earlier orders, 'we'll do what we can to help Lady Mor…'
Rowena's cry interrupted the retainer, prompting them all to turn towards Avalon's great gates, where a mounted figure had suddenly appeared. The apparition, clad in mail and steel, burst from the veil of mist like a god of war, the rushing water useless to resist the glowing charm which shielded him as he charged into the bailey with the thunder of clattering hooves. Despite the helmet which masked his face, the lone rider was instantly recognisable from the coat-of-arms emblazoned upon his shield. Robert of Bellême had come to Avalon.
Bellême did not stop as he cleared the shadow of the gatehouse, deflecting great jets of water with his wand and spurring his horse towards Morwenna. Rowena screamed in horror, but neither she nor her horrified companions could do anything to thwart the tragedy that was about to befall them.
The maiden saw a bright sword rise high as Bellême loomed over the Lady of Avalon on a rearing horse. Then the blade swung down.
The sword's sharpened edge bit deep into Morwenna's shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone until it had half severed her head. The Lady of Avalon's song was abruptly silenced as her blood showered the bailey and her life was taken from her. Rowena watched on helplessly as Morwenna's body crumpled, her blood draining into the mud around her. Her violet eyes remained closed, never to reopen. The world she had ruled now lay at the mercy of the most notorious fae-knight in Britain, for the Lady of Avalon was dead and her castle had fallen.
Tancred released a strangled roar as the raging waters died and Bellême's followers cheered, rallying to their lord's banner. Rowena watched Bellême lift his bloodied sword and howl his victory, a satisfied smile breaking across what little of his face she could see and causing Rowena to seethe in fury and grief.
Twang.
The sound of Tancred's crossbow releasing a bolt jolted Rowena back to reality. Unfortunately, it missed its intended target, soaring over Bellême's head before it buried itself in the neck of another mounted retainer who had followed in the Norman's wake. The rider was thrown into the mud, twitched twice and then lay still. It was a meaningless victory and more flaming arrows answered it, arching over the walls to land in the bailey. Several thudded into the stables thatch and soon smoke was rising from the smouldering thatch, joining the flames already sprouting in Avalon's glades and meadows.
Shaking her head, Rowena was about to cast her own spell at Bellême when a hand gripped her outstretched arm and shoved her towards the keep. She stumbled into Lambert, affronted by the force Dunstan had used to throw her back.
'Defend the keep,' he roared at Lambert. The steward recoiled, staring in horror at the baying soldiers pouring through the gates. Then he was moving, gripping Rowena's arm painfully and steering the witch into the keep's torch-lit gloom. As soon as they had crossed the keep's threshold, the heavy doors slammed shut behind them. Beyond them, Rowena heard a spell being cast to reinforce the door before the clash of fighting men drowned it out as the Lord of Avalon's loyal retainers sacrificed themselves.
Lambert rushed down the hallway, barking orders for all servants to reconvene in the great hall. However, his voice alone was not enough to reach every corner of the keep, especially with the backdrop of fighting behind them. Acting swiftly, Rowena remembered how Helga's great-grandfather had used a spell to magnify his voice so that all who had assembled for the Wizengamot could hear him. Without hesitating, she cast it on herself.
'AVALON IS ATTACKED,' she yelled so that her voice rang off every wall, 'AND THE BAILEY HAS FALLEN. GET TO THE GREAT HALL!'
Her magically amplified voice rose above the panicked cries of Avalon's trapped inhabitants. Lambert reappeared from the gloom, the sword still clasped in his trembling hands.
'Good girl,' he praised her, looking impressed by her quick thinking. However, great hammering blows began to strike the outer-door behind them, the wood creaking and groaning as it shuddered with each strike.
'The door won't hold,' Lambert remarked darkly. Then he was gripping Rowena's arm again and dragging her towards the great hall.
Rowena paused at the hall's threshold and gasped when she saw the small crowd huddled in the large space. Most were women or children, their fear obvious in the alarmed cries they uttered every blow on the outer-door. She recognised Ella and Belin amongst the frightened congregation and Rowena breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that both Kenna and Fiona had also managed to find their way to the great hall. Both servants rushed towards Rowena, relieved that their charge was unharmed. Rowena did her best to assuage their fears. But Rowena did not linger and she soon returned to where Lambert was holding his tearful wife Heloise in his arms. Ella and Belin came to stand nearby, having ventured to find weapons which could aid the defence.
'Lambert,' Ella asked hurriedly, 'what is happening?'
'We're attacked,' the steward replied and Ella swiftly paled. Lambert imparted the news of the attack, informing his horrified friends that the bailey had fallen and the keep was besieged.
'Where are Tancred and Dunstan?'
'They were defending the keep's door,' Lambert said, then flinched as another hammering blow echoed throughout the hall, 'they won't have kept them at bay for long.'
'Lady Morwenna?' Ella asked after the Lady of Avalon, her piercing gaze locked on the ashen-faced steward, who suddenly blanched.
'Dead,' Rowena broke the news instead, unable to hold back another wave of tears as Belin gasped a protest. Those who stood close stared at her in horror and the maiden could not meet their disbelieving gazes. The servants who had served her for so many years began to wail at the loss of the beloved Lady of Avalon.
'What do we do now?' Ella stuttered tearfully. The news that her old rival had fallen bit deep, but still the whore desperately tried to find an escape for the cowering household.
'I don't know,' Lambert sighed dejectedly, 'we could barricade the door, but it won't hold them….'
A thunderous crash silenced him, signalling that the keep had been breached. The trapped household cried out in terror as the shouting of armed men baying for blood. Soon the screams of those who had fallen into their clutches added to the rising panic.
In that awful moment, Lambert decided what his fate would be. Shoving his pleading wife away, the steward sprang for the hall's door with the ungainly sword still clasped in his hand.
'Close the door,' Lambert yelled out, striding bravely into the gloomy corridor and ignoring his wife's anguished cry as she watched her husband walk to his doom. Lambert was no warrior, but he willingly gave his life to buy the household he had served loyally more time to mount a credible defence against the scourge currently sacking Avalon.
It was Rowena who had the good sense to obey Lambert so that his sacrifice was not wasted. The great door slammed shut with a flick of her wand, shaking on its hinges as a gust of wind issued from Rowena's wand and forced it shut. Then the witch set about casting as many spells as she could think of to reinforce the threshold. It would do little to stop them, so Rowena decided to throw the ancient stone table of Arthur away from where it had hung proudly from Avalon's rafters and flung it against the hall's door. Usually, she would have been horrified at the abuse of a treasured relic, but her need was great. Rowena panted heavily with the strain of summoning the heavy table, but she ignored her fatigue to add more spells t the hall's makeshift defence. The sound of a brief struggle outside the door gave way to the renewed hammering of spells and axes as the assault continued upon the unexpected barrier. Heloise whimpered, knowing that her husband was dead.
Rowena's spell work gained the inhabitants almost two hours of freedom as she fixed any gaps hewed from the door and hexed any man she saw trying to scramble inside. It proved crucial to their survival and as the tale was retold the young witch flushed with the praise lauded upon her. Even Ella, the harshest of critics, could not hide her admiration for Rowena. But when all hope had seemingly fled with the arrival of Bellême, whose wand blew the doors apart with such terrible force that it shattered the ancient stone table in half and sent it toppling aside in a cloud of dust and magical residue, it was Rowena who boldly confronted the notorious fae-knight. It was this courage which enabled reinforcements to reach Avalon and cast the invaders out.
A blushing Rowena glanced at Godric with the unspoken hope of seeing admiration shining in the young knight's eyes. However, her hopes were dashed when she discovered that Godric's gaze was locked on the three prisoners. Once the tale of Avalon's fall was told, it was time the prisoners were dealt with.
Beaten and roughly handled, the unfortunate men were forced to their knees before being subjected to Salazar's legilimency. Like Bigot before them, Salazar pierced their minds with brutal efficiency, giving no thought to the pain he undoubtedly caused. The two men-at-arms could not resist him and their screams echoed around the burning castle. However, Bellême had obviously taught his loyal hound a few tricks and Villon battled with Salazar when the latter turned his wand on him.
Yet, despite an initial show of defiance, Villon could not hold against Salazar brutal assault and soon his angelic face was contorted in agony as the younger wizard callously sifted through his memories with scarce regard for the damage he did. The survivors watched on without a shred of pity, for their loved ones had suffered worse at the hands of the invaders.
Salazar eventually stepped back, his brow dampened by sweat and grime. He nodded once in weary satisfaction, allowing Godric to take his place, a borrowed sword clutched in his hand to replace his own broken blade.
'You came here,' Godric growled, 'to bring war and death to the innocent. You have pillaged Avalon, burning its sacred groves and butchering its people, disregarding the laws of magical Britain. Your lives are forfeit, for such crimes belong to a bygone age and have no place in this world. If you have something to say, then you should speak now, for no mercy will be given.'
The men-at-arms whimpered as Godric's shadow towered over them, their minds addled by Salazar's interrogation. Again, only Villon dared to meet the young knight's glare. For a moment, it looked as if Villon would speak, but then he spat a glob of bloodied saliva onto Godric's boots, laughing sneeringly and displaying no remorse for his murderous deeds as Godric's face twisted with rage.
'My brother will have revenge, Gryffindor…'
Villon's laughter was short lived, cut short by the sword Godric held. The young knight's fury was uncontrollable and the beast within him shook off its chains and fuelled the fire in his blood. The sword rose and fell upon its defenceless victims, but Godric did not care. In that moment, his world was ruled by anger and the revulsion he had felt when Alain had hung their prisoners was forgotten as the sword struck again and again, tearing and hacking at the three men until only bloodied shreds remained. Godric's laboured breath and the squelch of steel brutalising flesh joined the roar of the building flames. Only when his body was coated in gore and Villon's angelic features were rendered unrecognisable did Godric's sword finally come to a halt.
Breathing heavily from the sudden frenzied exertion, Godric turned to his friends and found a host of conflicting emotions marring the faces before him. Many had paled at Godric's brutal revenge and many of the servants were forced to twist away from the bloodshed and vomit into the mud. Belin looked forlorn, whilst Hamon, Ella and even some of the battle hardened retainers were surprised by Godric's ruthless bloodletting. Godric couldn't blame them. He imagined that he looked like a spectre from the dark recesses of nightmares.
Bathed in the blood of his enemies, he willed himself to face Rowena. She was regarding him with an unreadable expression, having paled even further since he had unleashed his fury. Godric looked away quickly, fearing to see her aversion and locked gazes with Salazar. His oldest friend smiled grimly, conveying his support for Godric's actions. Salazar didn't bother to hide his belief that Villon and his companions had merited worse, for the revenge Salazar desired would have been far more horrible and not as mercifully quick.
A thunderous roar deafened them as the stables collapsed and the subsequent tempest of billowing smoke initiated a fresh wave of frightened cries. The scorching flames spread further and the heat and smoke were becoming unbearable. Avalon's magic was failing as swiftly as its walls were crumbling and the time had come to abandon the island.
The corpse laden carts were drawn by magic, appearing as if invisible beasts pulled them through the clogging mud. Spells of concealment were cast before the refugees dared the road, creeping out of the shadow of the castle's gatehouse as the wizards amongst them cast water charms to keep the licking flames at bay. The stone figures towered silently over them as the refugees slipped by. These guardians had defended Avalon for the last time. Now, their duty done, they would remain in the smouldering ruins and Godric saw them standing tall and proud in the shadows of the broken gatehouse as their bodies were consumed by fire and crumbled into ash.
'What about your mirrors?' Hamon jested lightly, his tone lacking its usual humour.
'Let the flames keep them,' Salazar replied dejectedly. The fate of his prized palace of mirrors dwindled in comparison to that which had befallen Avalon.
Once they had reached the foot of the island and rested there. Free of the sullied air above them, they were relieved to find no sign of Bellême or the remnants of his warband. The Norman baron had fled the island, most likely seek refuge in the strongholds of the Welsh Marches where he would wait for the King's wrath and the inevitable backlash triggered by his attack on Avalon to break upon him
However, Godric insisted that they remain vigilant. The threat from attack lingered and there were fouler things than violent knights dwelling in Avalon's marshes. When one of the retainers heard the patter of approaching claws and a menacing snarl, whatever creature stalked them in the mists was only driven away by a goose-feathered warning fired by Gawain. Two of Bellême's men had not been as fortunate, judging by the torn armour and gnawed limbs left in the reeds, suggesting that their fates had been terrible.
Salazar surmised that the two retainers must have become separated from Bellême's band when they'd gotten lost in the mists before falling foul of a creature which had butchered them, dragging their carcasses into its watery lair. A bloody trail led into the mists, but the refugees had no desire to follow it. Their awful fates prompted the surviving fighters to be alert to any danger as they peered into the mists and waited for Gervais, Efnysien and several retainers to bring back the horses they had left beside the broken Ferryman. Once the proud beasts were rounded up, the refugees started out with Hamon and Salazar summoning the ailing magic to guide them.
Godric remained behind, unable to turn away from Avalon. This had been his home; a castle where love, honour and friendship had been showered upon a young boy who had been starved of it for most of his life. A place where it had seemed dreams could be fashioned into reality. He reflected on how the stronghold had looked in all its glory when he had first arrived, with shining banners fluttering in the cool breeze and magic glowing from every golden glade.
The Isle of Apples, a place which had once exuded love and serenity, was now being eaten away by fire and hate. Its sacred places were desecrated and its ancient magic was broken, leaving nothing but cherished memories for Godric to remember it by. Yet, the sight of Avalon in flames still did not provoke tears from Godric. The young knight felt numb as he watched Avalon's hill burning like a giant whose head was crowned in flames. Instead of golden leaves, flakes of ash and embers fell from Eira's Fall as the blackened smoke finally began to cover the crumbling castle, hiding it from Godric behind an impenetrable veil. Rowena's hand closed around Godric's and urged him to come away until the hill had disappeared entirely. Godric sighed heavily, for Avalon was gone and a beacon of magic which had shone for thousands of years was finally extinguished…
Three more chapters down, five more to go! Avalon is no more and Morwenna is dead, along with many others. Along with 'Dancer by the Fire' and 'Trial by Battle,' I think these three chapters were the most fun to write. As always, I hoped you all enjoyed it. Please feel free to review, follow and share with friends. The next two chapters will be posted on Tuesday or Wednesday.