9..And the mountain has come to the prophet…
Arthur was just one step away from pure insanity. It had taken him and Morgana a month to bring these forces together and this didn't include the time the Druids had needed to decide whether or not they wanted to go down fighting. Now those Druids who had decided to join the fighters, some other people with and without magical gifts Morgause had led to the cause and, finally, a third of King Olaf's army had finally begun to get ready to reinforce Camelot.
That King Olaf should be willing to put such a significant part of his forces at risk was almost incomprehensible. Arthur didn't delude himself. Neither his talents as a negotiator nor his personal charm had done the trick. Olaf truly and unselfishly regarded Camelot as a befriended country and a close ally. Naturally it hadn't been harmful that he knew the old legend of Sigan's legacy and that he was familiar enough with magic and Druid traditions to believe what Morgana and her sister had told him. Even so Arthur could flatter himself for one thing - without the presence of the Crown Prince of Camelot as verification for the magicians' story, Olaf most probably would have kept his troops in the barracks.
Now it seemed as if it had all been for nothing. The intelligence Olaf had recently received made it perfectly clear that the Mercian army would beat Arthur and his men on their way to Camelot by at least six weeks. Nobody in the combined forces believed that Camelot could endure that long. The last defenders would have been fallen long before that.
With an effort Arthur refrained from yelling at somebody. "There must be a way to reach Camelot faster than on the normal roads or pathways. I just can't believe that with so many magicians and trained, seasoned warriors among us no one should be able to come up with something."
If he had learned one thing in all these maddening negotiations and council meetings it had been that a little flattering your allies never harmed and often helped to get things done.
The usual 'uhms' and 'ahms', the usual head scratching and the usual exchange of knowing glances – isn't-he-naïve-what-do-you-want-the-boy-is-just-22 – and, also as usual, it all led to nothing.
When the fruitless talks about everything which would not work began again, Arthur gave up listening. He leaned back in his chair and relinquished himself to his fears for virtually everything and almost everyone he'd ever loved and cherished.
He only looked up when something very unusual disturbed his musings: Everyone in Olaf's Council Chamber had fallen silent.
A small, old, fragile and unobtrusive looking man had entered the room and stood by the door. Arthur sympathized with every person present who didn't recognize this forlorn figure for what he was. A Master Sorcerer. The Master Sorcerer, in fact and High Councillor of the Druids. Moredan.
As, for once, Morgana and her sister were absent Arthur rose to greet the Druid. "Welcome, Moredan. To what do we owe the honour of your visit?"
"I heard you have succeeded in raising an army against our common foe?"
"Yes" the Prince acknowledged "but of what concern is this to you? The day you released me from captivity in Vayatanu you told me that for you and the other members of the Druids' High Council violence would never be the answer."
Moredan smiled sadly. "Since then we – or should I say I – have had some time to think. I cannot, in fact I must not, speak for the other elders of my people but as for myself I can no longer see the benefit of staying out of this until it catches up with us, no matter what we do. Most probably my people will be extinguished when this is over but that doesn't necessarily mean that everybody else must perish, too. So I tried to find my own solution for the dilemma the Druids are in. Whether we are going to die by the Shadow Army's cruelty or whether we will live in name only, having lost our souls."
He inhaled deeply. "I don't know if it's canting hypocrisy or not but I've found a solution for me. If you want to have me, I am willing to lead you and your army through the mountains with Morgana's and Morgause's support. Given another week before your army is ready you should reach Camelot only two weeks after the Mercian army's initial assaults."
Suddenly all spoke and shouted at once. "Madness" Arthur heard. "Utter lunacy! The mountains in winter! Absolutely impossible. The men will die before we even see Camelot!"
Moredan continued smiling in the same sad, forlorn way and suddenly Arthur was sick of the others' childish, pretentious behaviour. "Silence!" he shouted. Had he known how much he sounded like his father in this moment, he hadn't been that astonished when everybody was hushed immediately.
"For me as well as for the Ladies Morgana and Morgause the word of the Druids' High Councillor is more than enough" the Prince stated. "As so far nobody has had a better idea I say we accept his offer. Seven days from now we will begin our march through the mountains towards Camelot. And for those who want to continue the fruitless discussions: I want to remind everyone that King Olaf entrusted the command of his troops to me!"
It didn't convince anybody but it silenced everybody. As Arthur had once learned from his father: Sometimes this had to suffice.
Seven days later the army marched off. Arthur's foster sister and Morgause had managed to bring in a handful more men from some places Arthur didn't want to ask too many questions about. As good as possible the men – and women! - as well as the animals had been equipped with winter-proof clothing and gear but time had been very short and Olaf's men were lowlanders. In their country as well as in Camelot winters were comparatively mild. The mountains didn't know the word 'mild'.
They began their ascent on the third day of their march and the mountains received them as they obviously planned to treat them for the rest of the way. The wind was icy and strong, the ground, covered with ice and snow, torturous to human feet and horse hoofs alike while the cold took hold of them and didn't let go any more. Within a week Arthur wanted nothing more but to lie down, never to get up again.
Moredan and the two sorceresses took turns to fight the weather conditions as well as the other obstacles the territory provided but while they succeeded in making a passage possible they could do nothing whatsoever to make it comfortable.
When they reached the highest point of the mountain pass they had to take before the long descent towards the plateau Camelot Castle was situated on, they all thought they'd never make it. In spite of the magicians' efforts and all possible care Arthur had already lost some men and more horses than he cared to think about.
Due to the previous exposure the descent seemed no less unendurable than the ascent had been. Only three days before Camelot would come into sight the weather improved and the march became easier. Nevertheless the day the army reached the edge of the mountain scape with its last wooded shelter before they would finally approach the battle scene Arthur ordered a halt and a 48 hours rest.
"Are you nuts?" Morgana was absolutely furious. "Don't you hear that clamour? Can't you see the smoke over there? That's our home being destroyed, in case you haven't noticed. 48 hours? Camelot could be completely destroyed by then!"
A long time ago Arthur had stopped wondering how on earth Morgana could combine her fierce, unwavering loyalty to him and to Camelot with her likewise fierce aversion against King Uther. This aversion was a fact, although Arthur didn't believe a word of the wild story one of the younger Druids had told him back in Vayatanu. Surely Merlin hadn't tried to kill Morgana with poison to save Uther's life.
In this moment at the mountains' edge, the Prince was tired to the bone and had no strength left to ponder his sister's twisted motivations. "And Camelot will be destroyed if this army isn't able to fight as soon as we meet the enemy!" was all he said.
Arthur sent a silent prayer to every deity that might be listening in when Morgana backed down. "Sorry, Arthur" she muttered. "I should not have said that."
Everybody was exhausted. As for Moredan, the old Druid looked as if he were about to sleep on his feet any moment now. Besides Morgana and Morgause all the others with at least some magical abilities had given their best to support him but, as Arthur had learned the hard way, the degree of power and ability varied between magicians as much as it varied between swordsmen, craftsmen or everybody else. From the few things Moredan had told him during their rests on the way the Prince had begun to understand that the 'magic profession', as he called it to himself, was as much a blend of inborn talent, training and ability to grow as his own profession as a warrior had always been. The Master Sorcerer had told him, with an apologizing smile, that, except the two ladies, the others were mostly what he called 'part time magicians'. They were also people who had always been afraid of their own potential due to Uther's and the other rulers' war against magic.
And so the worn out men, women and animals settled down to rest.
However, Morgana had told the truth and Arthur found no peace from the distant sounds of the battle field his home had become. It was hard just to sit there and do nothing while he didn't know whether his father and friends were still alive. To distract himself, Pendragon once more talked with Moredan about magic. The subject fascinated the young man more and more. After all these…...misunderstandings – Arthur still steadfastly refused to call them lies – his father had told him about magicians he could hardly refrain from pestering the old Druid with questions.
The bulk of the strain caused by the passage had been with the Master Sorcerer as Morgana had only just begun to explore her gifts as a seer and Morgause specialized in fighting but not in controlling natural powers. The Druids' High Councillor tried to explain things to the Prince in more detail "When I was his age not even I could choose my field of action as freely as Merlin can do now. Under normal circumstances, if he wants to have a thunderstorm he will have one" Moredan said "but not even the probably most powerful sorcerer of many generations can have all the gifts. He is no seer. If he had Morgana's gifts he'd never allowed you to leave your castle during the last two years."
Arthur took offence at that. Poor, skinny, clumsy Merlin the most powerful sorcerer in many generations! Yeah, sure! "It's not as if I would have needed his permission to leave my father's castle" he said hotly.
"Are you so sure about that?" Moredan smiled. "I know you think that you have somehow adopted him but couldn't it be that it was just the other way round? At least sometimes?"
In spite of Moredan's mockery being gentle and tampered by kindness, Arthur's face grew hot. "Let's just say we both try to take care of each other as best we can and leave it at that, shall we?"
"If you wish" Moredan said."I only wanted to say that your friendship is very precious, for the two of you but also for all of us. Our very future may depend on it."
Arthur had another hot headed reply on his lips but gulped it down when something much more important came into his mind. "Do you think my father killed him after he came back to Camelot on my order?"
"No" Moredan said with certainty. "First of all, as long as Merlin has his wits about him your father couldn't kill him except for Merlin allowing it to happen. And second, even from here I can feel him. Our young warlock is in Camelot, trying to defend the fortifications against the Dark Power's magical assault in this very moment. Surely he wouldn't – couldn't – do that without Uther's consent?"
This brought Arthur to his feet. "Really? How are they? What exactly are they doing? What are their chances? Where are the others?"
"And what is the colour of the hangings in your throne room? Arthur, I can't see any details. I know they are alive, that's all."
"But surely you must know something!" Arthur was actually pleading now without even knowing it. "How does Merlin feel? Is he afraid? Or confident? What?"
Moredan shook his head. "I've already told you everything I know. I am sure that Merlin and your father are cooperating. Merlin has cast a spell to protect your stronghold and so far he is holding out quite well. I am afraid you have to be satisfied with that."
The Master Sorcerer felt his heart go out to the anxious man in front of him. He kept to himself that Merlin, after he had kept it up for a longer time than Moredan would have thought possible, was approaching total exhaustion and defeat. No use to burden the young Prince with that now. Arthur had still a very important role to play in this affair and in order to play it he and his troops had to survive the fighting that was about to take place. If things were rushed now, everything could still be lost.
Much more tensed than he had been in a very long time Moredan waited for the possibility to use a chance Merlin's obstinate fight had given to the Master Sorcerer; a chance he never would have hoped for.
Maybe the end of the Druid people was not as near as he had thought. And maybe, just maybe, it had been the right decision after all, that these two unlikely friends, Prince and Warlock, had escaped the Druids' well meant protective custody to find their own solution.