Chapter 26 – Be it Life or Death...

This time it was me who was the first to move. The dragon had brought us as close to the battlefield as he could, but we were still quite a long way off.

"Come on", I said, "we'll need to hurry now."

The warlock nodded, wiped his face with his sleeve and then began running. I knew that by moving this fast, we might be exhausted when we reached the others, but by now I was just as anxious to keep moving as Merlin was, and so I followed him at the same speed.

After a few minutes, the warlock's sensible side kicked in and he slowed down enough so that I was able to catch up with him. We continued our way like this: Running a few hundred metres, walking a few hundred metres, then running again. It was pretty obvious that without the rest I had forced us to take yesterday, we wouldn't have made it. Even so, the sun had long since gone down when we came close to Camlann. The battle must've well begun by now.

In the semi-darkness (the moon was full, but it's light only shone palely through the thick foliage above our heads) we both stumbled over roots and bushes and fallen branches time and time again, until finally Merlin not only stumbled, but fell. I hurried back to help him up again and then decided I needed a moment to catch my breath: "I'll just need a minute, Merlin", I panted and he nodded.

"Do you know where Arthur will be in the melee?", he asked while we were still crouching on the ground, both sweaty and panting.

"No, I don't."

"Then we'll better split up", he suggested, "so we can cover more ground."

I nodded, but gave him a wary look all the same: "What do you think you'll do?"

"I'll think of something", he said defensively and rose: "Come on."


Even from afar we could hear the clanging of sword on sword and men screaming and roaring, but before we could actually see any fighting, we happened to run into a stray band of black-clad Saxons. Before I could even get out my sword, Merlin had made an almost casual flick of his hand and the men flew aside like they were light as feathers. None of them got up again.

I had to suppress a shiver and reminded myself that if they had had the chance, they would have killed us without so much as a second thought. Or so I hoped.

We hurried on.

Now there were tents visible in the distance, the bannerof Camelot, blowing in the wind, on their tops.

This was where Gaius must be, and Gwen. And many wounded men, possibly one of my friends. Or all of them. Or maybe they were dead already because I had changed things.

Something must have been going on with my face, because after a look at me Merlin began: "Will, maybe..."

"That's not what I came her for", I cut him off and willed my voice to sound steady and not like I really longed to go and help the physician, or protect the Queen, or go looking for my friends.

Merlin simply nodded.

A few more steps, and we could see the mess we were in. Bodies were scattered on the ground like broken dolls, dead people of both sides, but every one who was wearing a dragon on his chest could be someone I knew, a friend I lost. Every body of a Camelot knight was one man less to fight off the Saxons. Outnumbered 5 to 1 when the battle began – what were the odds by now?

An overwhelming fear of being too late began clutching my heart with cold fingers.

The fighting had moved from where it presumably began towards the tents and was raging hotly close by, near a sheer cliff which was rising there.

"Merlin – if you were Arthur, where would you go?" I continued on without waiting for an answer because I felt it was obvious: "He would go look for Mordred, wouldn't he? And Mordred will be where the battle is thickest."

Merlin nodded, though he looked troubled.

"What is it?", I asked.

The warlock shook his head: "I'm not sure. It's just a feeling I have. Something feels wrong."

A big shadow passed overhead. On first glance, I mistook her to be Kilgharrah, because her flight was lopsided, too, but she was far too small, and white, and, seemingly, angry.

"Aithusa!", Merlin called out in surprise. The dragon passed us and flew on to where the battle was raging thickest, presumably the place where Arthur was. A second before it actually happened I knew what was going on and closed my eyes in horror, so I only heard a roar and crackling I knew to be the dragon breathing fire.

"No!", Merlin yelled desperately, starting to run again, "no!"

Please let this not be where Arthur is, I pleaded silently, staring at where flames were burning high, and followed the warlock. While I was wholly concentrated on the thought how many people Aithusa's burst of fire might have hit and if Arthur was one of them, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings and it was by sheer luck that I saw something move in the corner of my eye and jumped to the left side, or otherwise a Saxon's sword would have hit me. I brought up my own blade to block his next hit, sidestepped again, parried another blow and then actually landed my own, finishingthe Saxon off.

When I turned round again, Merlin was out of sight.


Being alone on a battlefield is a horrible experience. Never before had I been in so big a battle. I had to look out for attackers from every side at the same time while constantly staying in motion.

I realised then that splitting up, as Merlin and my first plan had been, was a terrible idea, not resulting in us covering more ground but to endanger both of our lives even more. Only now there was nothing left I could do but keep moving and looking over my shoulder every few steps, heading for the cliffs which I could see in the distance but still seemed a long way off. I hoped to get stone against my back so I was at least protected from someone attacking from behind.

All the while I also kept looking up to the sky – but Aithusa had vanished. Hopefully this was Merlin's doing and no more people would be killed in such a horrible way.

Finally, I reached the cliff and, leaning against the cold stone, momentarily hidden in a niche, I took a deep breath, my knees trembling from the effort of running for such a long time and also because by now fear had kicked in and was fighting down the adrenaline which had formerly rushed in my veins.

While I tried to figure out what to do next, someone walked past me without noticing, someone who had dark hair, a boyish face, an evil smile of satisfaction on his lips and his sword drawn.

It was Mordred, and he looked like he had found who he was looking for.