"Draining Life" (Rose)
Once I have sprung Merlin and charge the bones giving Arthur a few smacks, I order them to get out. I don't take care to lower my voice. I don't think it's entirely necessary at this point. Merlin indirectly assists me by dragging Arthur away from the scene. As I continue to parry strike after strike, I see them escape in the corner of my eye. I hope they'll stay safe, or all of this will be in vain.
I also hope that Merlin will find and conquer the source of Morgana's black magic. But until there is only so much we can do. I catch sight of the knight who is battling the skeleton with one remaining arm. "Hack its limbs off!" I scream my suggestion while swiping off the leg of one while other soldiers join ranks with us.
Within mere moments, the skeletons are sauntering tauntingly everywhere. They are coming in from all sides, and if they could, I think they would be laughing. The disturbing noise of bone on rock as they collect in numbers sinks into our ears, even past the clashing of blades and ringing of metal.
The men fight bravely, as only knights of Camelot know how. I do not know if either seconds have passed or hours, I still keep myself moving. The weight of battle is pulling me down. Were it an option, I would crash at the feet of whomever. I am glad it's not. Wild sensations begin to corrupt my war-hardened emotion. Something inside of me knows that Merlin has found and is challenging Morgana.
I can now fight with more vigor, and I find it easier to part the bones at the joints. It is now almost humorous to watch the limbs trying pointlessly to chase after their opponents. Any second now, they will crumble, perhaps, into dust.
'Come on, Merlin!' My mind reaches out for his. 'You alone can save us.'
A crack blasts through the air, and the skeletons are stunned. In one last moment of what you might call consciousness, some try to make one last attempt to strike. A sharp, searing sensation spreads through my skin as the tip of a sword pierces my abdomen, jabbing through the ringlets of my chainmail. It slides in just deep enough to be apprehensive of the oozing of blood as the thing pulls back.
I take a few stumbling steps as the bones clatter to the ground. I want to feel victory, but I only feel the creeping coldness that comes from draining life. A strange sense of relief pours over the atmosphere and the world seems to fall in hush although the battle has yet to be won.
"Facing Demons" (Merlin)
I race down the stairs gripping tightly onto the hilt of the sword I acquired. Based on the kind of reinforcements she's recruited, I have a strong notion that Morgana is below us in the castle's catacombs.
Right as I enter the cobweb-covered chamber of tombs, she spins around revealing the long staff with the tip resembling a leafless tree with a light hidden in the heart of its trunk, shining through the empty branches. She only appears stunned for a few brief seconds. "You should leave now while you still can," she warns with an air of darkness.
"Morgana, please, I beg you," I begin to plea with the woman who was once my friend. A rumbling overhead cuts me off. The ceiling starts to crumble somewhere near to me, and I take this moment to circle around to the other side of Morgana and the staff. She turns her body following me as I go, not taking one single step away from the source of the life behind her army of walking death. "Women and children are dying. The city will fall."
"Good," she responds curtly, my reasoning approach clearly getting nowhere.
"No," I shake my head slowly, not wanting to hear another word of this. "You don't mean that."
Her expression remains firm. "I have magic, Merlin." I swallow, not responding, because everything I have to say, I cannot speak. "Uther hates me and everyone like me." I want to scream that I know perfectly well. "Why should I feel any different about him?" her voice rises with the challenge in her words.
"You of all people could change Uther's mind! But doing this? Using magic like this will only harden his heart," I retort with a burning that comes from fighting for what you believe in. If only she'd believe in it, too, like I know she once would.
"You don't have magic, Merlin," she replies snidely, almost with scorn. "How could you hope to understand?"
Not able to control the fire in my spirit, I reply, "I do understand, believe me," and then, I stop, and think. There is no clearance to tell Morgana the truth ... It would be my biggest blunder yet. She has made herself an enemy of Camelot, and that makes her an enemy of mine. This feeling stings worse than any poisonous insect or nettle. I shake myself from the sensation. "If I had your gifts, I would harness them for good," I speak in the sincerest truth. Why can't she see? "That's what magic should be for. That's why you were born with these powers." I say this with such conviction, as if speaking to my own self. It seems like I'm facing the demons again that once raided my own mind.
"You don't know what it's like to be an outsider," she bites back, "To be ashamed of how you were born, to have to hide who you are!" I look at her with deepening sadness and sympathy. "Do you think I deserve to be executed because of who I am?"
I shake my head weakly once more, "No ..." She glares at me with suspicion. "It doesn't have to be like this." I offer quietly, thinking of all that Rose and I do in secret with our powers, "We can find another way."
"There is no other way," she answers resolutely. I see the last bit of hope I had disappear with her statement. I nod, defeated, and step back. I start to make my way back for the door, make a sharp turn, and sprint for the staff. Morgana jabs the butt of her sword into my stomach with a grunt, causing me to double over in pain and drop my weapon.
"What are you going to do? Kill me?" I question through hurtful breaths but still managing that hint of defiance and something near jest.
She keeps her slow advance going, blade pointed directly at me. "You don't think I can?"
I stand up straight with a nod. "If you're going to do it, make it quick."
She eyes me for a second, and then moves to run me through. I bend backward, dodging the swipe, only just. I hobble backward and retrieve my sword from the chalky ground. She does not cease her attacks. I use every blocking maneuver I know to deflect her wild movements. She goes for my neck and I duck under the slash, pressing her to spin in full circle and begin to regress in her footwork.
With a few more clashes of the sword, she positions herself in a wide, defensive stance, both of us at a standstill. I take some deep breaths, stand back, and seize the opportunity to glance over her to the staff plunged into the stone floor. I raise my blade steadily, leading her to resume the advance. She pushes harder with every twist of the sword, soon disarming me.
'Come on, Merlin!' An encouraging voice pushes into my skull. 'You alone can save us.'
Normally, someone saying something like that would most likely pressure me, but not this time.
Mere seconds later, she is at it again, looking more determined to cut me to ribbons than before. I am able to evade her and crouch behind an empty stone casket. I mutter a spell and bring down a good chunk of the ceiling over her. The rocks plummet to the floor, taking Morgana down with them.
Not waiting for the dust to clear and taking up my sword once more, I dash for the life source of the black magic. It was time to repay those I'd left behind, susceptible to the undead fighters. I speak a new enchantment and waste no time in chopping the staff in two, rendering it useless. I let the sword drop with the top section of the wood I just lopped off. Breathing hard, I step back, desperately hoping that I wasn't too late.