Chapter 22

[Plaza Outside of the Citadel—Whitgate]

Mithian stood next to Merlin. Anxiety goaded her heart into a jackrabbit pace. She bowed her head. We are so close! And now, Morgana has to show up? She recalled the previous month's torture. Her eyes drifted down to her still-scarred right wrist. She swore she still could have seen the bruise on Merlin's head where he'd hit the tree.

She forced herself to look up at the companions. At the stairs' bottom, Freya, Kilgarrah and Malodius stood waiting. Lancelot, Ywain and Gawain waited on horseback. Josiane stood on her carpet waiting for the order to ascend.

All of them had experienced Morgana's evil at some point. All were face her evil.

Merlin rubbed her arm. "We are coming back, Mithian. It will be all right."

Mithian rolled her eyes. "Merlin, I seem to remember her almost killing you at the riverbank. Do not be foolish."

"She ambushed me. It will not happen now." Merlin turned to his companions. "Fellow knights! Magical beings! Thank you for standing with us today! As we look to Nemeth's new era, we seek to contain a threat. The Lady Morgana Pendragon will not have any compassion. She will want to kill us. In the last month, she left her scars on Malodius, Princess Mithian and me. She is out of chances to turn back. We are to contain her. I do not wish to kill her unless it is the last resort! King Arthur, for all of his bluster and hatred toward magic, is our ally. We should save him from the hate that Camelot itself inspires! Freya?"

"Aye, Merlin." Freya chanted and pointed with her finger. With that motion, she summoned the mists once more.

"Merlin, be careful. Please come back to me," Mithian requested.

"I will." Merlin locked lips with her. "I will want something special."

She rolled her eyes. "Wait until tomorrow, my Prince."

"I'll hold you to that." He kissed her hand. Then, he descended the stairs and made his way to Kilgarrah. He climbed up onto his brother's back. "Ready?"

It is time to deal with the Witch, Merlin. Come. Kilgarrah flapped his wings and took off into the sky overhead.

Josiane nodded to Mithian. She floated on her carpet before streaking off in pursuit of the Great Dragon.

Freya enveloped the rest of the knights in the mists transporting them from there.

Mithian shook her head. It was supposed to be a happy day…a special day indeed.

Instead Dread occupied her thoughts.

[Forest Road]

Percival peered out from behind a tree. Frustration burned in him. He wanted to ride ahead with Arthur and the others. Duty, however, dictated a different course of action. He slapped at the tree.

"What do you think it was?" Gwen whispered.

"Raiders, maybe deserters from Odin's army," he informed them. He glanced toward the east and in the direction of the tomb. Dread chilled him. She should be dead. Nobody can survive that granite falling on them!

"Why are you looking back that way?" Blancheflor asked low. "The only thing there is the royal tombs. There is nothing we should be concerned about right now, is there?"

"The witch, Morgana, ambushed us there. She should be buried under stone in that place. She has gotten out of such things before." He narrowed his eyes. Chill dimpled his skin. "Now what?"

"How does fog form at midday?" Blancheflor shivered.

"Not naturally. It's magic," Gwen realized. She watched the fog envelop their surroundings. Within several heartbeats, she could not even see the tree against which she stood. "Who would threaten us now? Morgana! Morgana, come out and face us!"

Not Morgana. But she is close by. I am a friend, a voice bade.

"Did you hear that? It was like in my head!" he observed.

"Telepathy. I've experienced it one other time." Blancheflor looked about. Then she saw a figure watching them. "Can you step forward? If you mean us no harm, can we see you?"

Freya emerged from the mist. "Of course, Lady Blancheflor. I suppose I should welcome you back to your home realm. I am Freya, High Priestess of the old religion. Pardon my haste. Morgana has taken King Arthur and his knights. Other forces press in to rescue them. I would not have you in the middle of a battle. I must see you to safety and then come back to assist."

"How do we know you are not like Morgana or the other witches?" he insisted.

"If I was like Morgana, you'd already be dead." Freya shook the question off. Impatience raised an eyebrow. "Time is of the essence." She raised her hands. "On to Whitgate you go, Lady Blancheflor and Queen Guinevere!"

The fog thickened around the women and swept them away.

"Where did you….?" Percival demanded.

"They are at outside of the citadel in Whitgate. Did you want them in the middle of a battle? Now come! We should help our allies from Nemeth."

In the distance, a loud roar shattered the din and stillness.

"That, Sir Percival, is Malodius. Nemeth has arrived. We should as well." Freya pointed out.

More magic and creatures! Wonderful! He shook his head and followed her into the cloying fog.