10. Collateral damage
"Merlin? Merlin!" The voice was very far away but nevertheless annoying.
"Let me sleep" the warlock whispered. "Please, I want to sleep."
"You can't sleep now! How dare you? Our battlements are crumbling!" Now the voice somehow seemed to have grown arms which violently shook the wizard. "Wake up, damn you!"
"Can't" Merlin slurred. "Go away."
"Like hell I will!" The voice was nearer now. It slapped him, hard. Once, twice. How could a voice do that? "Wake up, I tell you, before I break your miserable neck. I need a sorcerer, not a lazy servant."
Spitting and coughing Merlin came to after a bucket of water had soaked him through and through. "What….?
"Yeah, what!" Almost mad with rage and fright Uther slapped the young man's face once more. "I tell you what. You take a little nap and we lose our outer walls. They've crumbled to ashes under the Mercians' magical assault. It was an almost total loss. The Mercian troops are raging like wild beasts among the people we had sheltered there. Less than a quarter of our soldiers made it back to the inner fortifications in one piece!"
This was the moment in which Merlin knew that it was over. The protective spell had vanished as soon as he had fallen asleep. With every bone and nerve in his body he felt that he had no strength left to rebuild it, let alone maintain it.
"We must leave here, Uther" he said, forgetting about decorum. "We must make a last stand in the vaults. This way I can try to defend the coffin of the Dark Power's second half while you, Gaius and the others can make a run for it."
"Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" The King was aghast at the very notion of giving up. "We cannot run. We have a castle to defend, remember? It's what Arthur sent you to us for!"
As always this pricked the warlock's feelings more than he was able to control. Exhaustion and weariness momentarily forgotten he jumped upwards and yelled for all he was worth. "Stop telling me what Arthur would have wanted or not! He isn't here. I do not even know if he's still alive or if the creature extinguished the Druid retreat before it came here." Despite his anger his voice began to waver. "All I know is that I am done for, d'you hear me? I'm done for and I cannot fight this thing any longer and I cannot defend the walls and I do not know what I could do at all and I…, I…..want you and Gaius and the others out of here before you're torn to pieces along with everybody else. Dear Gods, is this so hard to understand?"
"I take it then that you have cracked, that you didn't stand the pressure of the first opportunity for you to really be the great master sorcerer you always thought you were." Merciless in his own fear and at a loss of what to do Uther actually relished in the possibility to shift responsibility for the imminent doom of everything he had and was to somebody else.
"Don't you get it, Uther? It's over! Camelot will fall! Neither I nor any other magician in Albion will survive the reunion of the two halves and there is no one and nothing here that could prevent this reunion. But you aren't a magician, none of you is and Gaius might just slip the creature's attention. You must run before the creature comes here."
Merlin was desperate by now. "For heaven's sake, man, you're the one who keeps telling me what your son would have wanted or not. Do you really think he'd want you to die for nothing?"
"Better to die for nothing than to be nothing" Uther said "but I don't think you'd ever understand that. Go to the vaults if you want to take your chances there. I will go back to my people where I belong, knowing that I have been right about you sorcerers all along. Worthless scum you all have been and that's all you ever will be to all eternity. I'm through with you." With that he spat out and went away.
Gaius left the corner he had been standing in and took Merlin's arm. "Let's go, my boy. I'm coming with you."
The warlock looked at his uncle incredulously and with so much hurt that the physician winced. "He didn't even try to understand what I said. Why? What have I done wrong? I had no more chance to go on fighting than a knight would have had after his right arm had been cut off. Why doesn't he understand that it is over?"
"Merlin, he understands that well enough but he understands how magic works as you understand that a King wants to go down with his realm – which means you both understand nothing at all. The two of you are living in different worlds, you always have been. Now come on."
They reached the vault with Sigan's burial site with the entrance to the cave of the second coffin in the very moment the King reached the ring of the inner battlements.
The noise and the commotion of the battle were unbelievable. Shouting, screaming, and the clamour of arms added to the horrible sounds that were to be heard from what happened between the outer and the inner wall ring where the Mercian troops caused havoc among the people who were trapped there. The sight gave the defenders of the inner battlements a perfect picture of what would happen to them should the inner fortifications fall. Literally cornered against the wall they fought for all they were worth. Hot pitch, swords, stone catapults or crossbows – the King knew that, if the walls held out, the Mercians wouldn't have a chance to storm the castle.
But Uther could see for himself that Merlin had spoken the truth at least when it came to the situation of the fortifications. The battlements wouldn't hold out. The first rifts could already be seen in the walls now that the creature could entirely focus on the inner ring. From what Pendragon had seen so far it would barely be another hour before the inner ring would also fall and the way to the main castle would be open. It would be possible to make a last stand inside the castle buildings for a few hours but for all those who had found shelter between the main castle and the wall rings the downfall of the inner ring would mean the end.
He opened his mouth to order the evacuation of the inner battlements when the guard officer at his side grabbed his sleeve. "Your Majesty! Over there! King Olaf's banners. They are marching towards the enemy's back."
At the head of the marching troops Arthur was stupefied with horror at the extent of the devastation the attackers had caused. Even from a distance the complete annihilation of the outer battlements was visible and the commotion he heard spoke loudly of what was happening there now. All his instincts told him to part his forces, to order the fighters on foot to attack the unprotected back of the besieging forces while the cavalry charged at top speed towards the castle to reinforce the people who were trapped between the enemy assault troops and the closed off inner walls.
However he knew this would have been foolish. His troops hadn't been that strong from the very beginning and the march through the mountains hadn't exactly added to their strength. Better to roll up the Mercian troops from behind with an unexpected full scale attack against their back, thereby forcing them to retreat from Camelot's walls altogether.
Arthur turned to Moredan who rode at his side to tell him to withdraw from the ranks of the soldiers together with the two women but the Master Sorcerer caught his arm. "Arthur, do you see the big tent there, in the last row in front of the baggage train? It has the royal banner of Mercia. There he must be, Marcus, the man who's carrying the Dark Force inside himself."
Morgause closed her helmet. "All right then, leave the sleaze-bag to me. I'll make him my priority target."
"You will do nothing of the kind" Arthur said as commandingly as he could. "You and your sister will stay behind, together with Moredan here. I can't afford to lose even one of you. I haven't that many sorcerers in my ranks and I think that I will need magicians before this is over."
"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur Pendragon. What you need now are swords and my sword once beat you and I didn't even need magic to do it. Are you with me, Morgana?"
"Yes!"
"That's settled then."
"So much for my command" Arthur thought. "Oh to hell with it, she's right and you know it." He turned to the Druid. "Moredan….."
"Do not trouble yourself with worries about me. I will be most comfortable over there until you will have succeeded in putting an end to this madness" and he gestured towards the forest edge.
"All right then" Arthur said. As soon as the old magician had withdrawn he gave the signal to attack.
"My Lord, the enemy is attacking our back. Our people there are almost overrun." Lord Kiringere, Mercia's most senior knight, didn't trust his ears. "What?"
The young soldier repeated his message. Kiringere rode to the next elevated spot and stared at his troops' back line, camp and baggage train. What he saw made his stomach turn. His forces were rolled up from behind. The enemy, whoever they were, had already advanced deeply into the Mercian battle lines on a broad scale. The knight's heart began to race at the sight of a group of enemy knights approaching the royal tent which they all had thought to be safely out of reach for everyone.
"Where is King Marcus?" he yelled.
"Not in his tent, My Lord, rest assured. I saw him leave it with a few men barely an hour ago. They rode towards Camelot."
Kiringere almost bent over with relief. Even near the besieged castle Marcus would be safer right now than in his tent. Besides, his master's absence saved the Lord the trouble to discuss his next orders with his Commander-in-Chief first. "Give order to our troops at the Camelot walls to retreat towards our back at once. Our troops are to turn as soon as our storm troops have disengaged from the Camelot defenders."
"But My Lord, what if King Uther uses the opportunity to order a sortie that catches up with our retreating forces?"
Kiringere grinned fiercely. "Look at the castle you fool. Listen to what's happening there. There won't be any sortie, ever again. They will need all their strength to survive until we can come back for them. Now get off your but!""
Morgause reached the tent with the royal banner and dismounted. She finished off the remaining guards with a few sword cuts and entered, closely followed by her sister Morgana. They searched the tent twice. It was empty.
Virtually howling with rage Morgana rode back to Arthur. "He isn't there. The god damned monster isn't in there, the tent's abandoned!"
Arthur closed his eyes in momentarily frustration. "Do you have any idea where he could be found? As soon as he's dead this will be over."
"I don't know where he is" she snapped. "And before you ask, no, I have no idea how to find him either."
"Morendar? Where is he? He's the only one who could find the accursed man!" Arthur craned his neck to where Morendar should be visible, if barely. The Druid was nowhere to be seen. "What the hell…"
"Arthur watch out" Morgause yelled at the tops of her lungs. The Prince turned once more towards the battle lines and froze. The enemy lines were turning and reinforcements flocked to the former back lines as the Mercian troops detached themselves from the siege and went back. King Marcus had to wait.
A few minutes later, fighting began in earnest for Arthur's men.
Morendar had reached the outskirts of the Camelot fortifications. He panted heavily from the, for him, unusually hard and fast ride. He had rushed off to Camelot the moment Arthur had turned his back on him and so far his magic abilities had protected him from being detected. The Mercians' attention was focused on their retreat and re-formation anyway. The Druid felt that he was closing up on the creature. It was near now, very near. As was Merlin. The Master Sorcerer felt the young warlock's anxiety and apprehension as if it were his own. "Soon" Morendar thought as comfortingly as he could. "Soon, my boy. You will not have to go through this alone!" He sensed the young man's relief and expectation for an answer. He intensified his search for an entrance to the next part of the castle, not daring to weaken his magic's strength by using it to force his entry.
The creature had had no such qualms. The moment they had reached Camelot's destroyed outer walls the men of 'King Marcus' escort had stopped breathing. They had been a menace anyway with their constant rambling on about what and what not to do. Subsequently the creature had forced its way through the remaining walls. The Dark Force had let go of any pretence and the human body it inhabited had once more taken on the appalling appearance it had had in the 'Kings' bedchamber two months ago. The creature ripped of the last adornments from 'Marcus' weapons' coat by which the status of its human vessel could be identified.
It felt the warlock's presence, the pathetic imbecile whom it had encountered and defeated before. Inwardly it chuckled while it continued its way to the vault, to the second coffin. Then it hesitated. Another presence had entered the castle. It was coming nearer and nearer. Another simpleton who didn't understand what he was up against? He seemed...stronger than the other one. Not as powerful, but more stable. Resolved.
The creature chuckled once again. What of it? Nobody and nothing could prevent the reunification of the two halves now and afterwards both magicians would cease to exist. It continued its way to the castle vaults, unseen and unheard, except by the two sorcerers.
Uther felt his knees buckle with relief at the sight of the retreating Mercian forces. It was clear that they were needed to fend off the reinforcements which had arrived on the battlefield like a heaven-sent miracle. However Pendragon wasn't foolish enough to believe that the comparatively small troops could withstand the full strength of the Mercian army. As soon as Olaf's troops were finished, the attackers would be back and Uther knew that his fortifications wouldn't survive another attack. Besides he had this nagging feeling that these reinforcements had something to do with Arthur. If that was so, his son wouldn't fight this battle alone!
"Gather our troops" the King told his guard officer. "Every man who can still sit on a horse is to join us. I will lead this sortie myself."
"But Your Grace" the man protested "we are hardly able to tend to our wounded and to fight off marauding Mercian mercenaries who didn't follow the order to retreat. Besides, if we lose any more men we will no longer be able to man the battlements when the Mercians renew their storm."
Uther lost the last shred of his patience. "If the Mercians defeat these reinforcements there will be no need to man these battlements again. And as for the wounded and the rest of the grief-stricken humanity out there they will all go to a better world if the Mercians make it back here, so I DO NOT CARE what becomes of them now. And now go and pass on my orders or I will cut off your damned stupid head here and now!" He half unsheathed his sword and the man ran off as if all hell was after him.
20 minutes later the sortie troops galloped out of the inner wall through the debris of the former outer fortifications, trampling down dead and living bodies on their way, friend and foe alike, without looking. Uther fell onto the Mercians' newly formed backlines with a ferocious impact. Kiringere was crestfallen when he saw that the unexpected attack from behind brought his lines into total confusion. Arthur's troops pressed harder towards the castle the moment he gathered what happened in the Mercians' back. The Prince knew that this increased pressure endangered the fighters of the sortie forces but it also robbed the Mercians of space to move.
Knowing that no one would survive a Mercian victory, Camelot's troops as well as Arthur's men fought with desperate force. Both Pendragons submerged in a nightmare of noise, stench and physical exhaustion as the violent fighting went on and on.
With the two women fighting near by Arthur wielded his sword without a conscious thought. Thrust, swing, parry and swing again as he had done so often before. It came as easy to him as it had always come, like a natural instinct. And yet this was different. This was not as it had been in the tournaments. This wasn't sport. The Prince had been in serious fights before but never in an outright, full scale battle. While his horse's hooves pranced on the ground, feeling uneasy on a surface which was slippery with blood and dead or wounded people, Arthur found out that he had no taste for war. Cutting into human flesh or parrying blows which were meant to kill or maim one's body as bad as possible wasn't especially heroic. Instead this orgy of hatred and destruction was appalling and degrading for everyone involved as it reduced sensible human beings to killing beasts.
Deep inside him the Prince suddenly knew that he would never start such devastation for power or territorial expansion or forcing his ideas onto somebody else, no matter what others would expect of him in future. It wasn't worth it. It couldn't be worth this. The young man who had always been so proud of his outstanding warrior skills felt one thing very strongly. If it hadn't been for his father's voice he could hear from the other side of the battle field, if these broken walls, devastated landscape and tormented inhabitants hadn't belonged to his home, his country and his people he would have laid down his sword then and there for sheer disgust, no matter what this would have meant for him.
Peculiarly this didn't keep him from feeling mortal hate towards the enemy every time he saw one of his men fall. The fear for those dear to him who were also in this nightmare added to his emotional turmoil until he fought even harder, thinking that this may somehow bring it all to an end. As it was, it took them another two hours before Kiringere admitted defeat. 30 minutes later, the last Mercians had discarded their weapons and surrendered.
Only when Kiringere himself surrendered his sword to Uther it became obvious that the Mercians had no idea of where King Marcus was to be found.