2. The Heatproof Shield
The afternoon sun shone clearly through the tall windows of the armoury, fine particles of dust reflecting lazily in the bright shaft of light. In the far corner, Merlin crouched low inspecting the swords, breastplates and chainmail that the brave knights would don in just a few moments for their epic confrontation with the Dragon.
A fresh wave of guilt washed through his bones as he thought of these gallant men voluntarily facing their almost certain deaths… all because of him. If only he had been able to see the true nature of the Dragon's heart… or, he thought suddenly, a deep frown creasing his forehead, does that imply the awful truth… that he had known the reptile's heart and had chosen to ignore it... No – he refused to think that that was the case. Besides, there had been no option, Camelot would have been lost if he hadn't sought the Dragon's advice and then he had had no choice but to uphold his promise to release him… hadn't he?
The weight of these contemplations crashed down on the young warlock and he struggled to breath in the stuffy room. He was already blaming himself for the loss if his Father and now this was too much for his troubled heart to take. Scrubbing angrily at the unshed tears that threatened to fall, he focused on the task at hand, he could not worry about such recriminations now… if these knights were to face the Dragon then he would make sure that they had a helping hand. He would not let them face them unprotected… or alone, he assured himself – he just hoped he could summon his powers as Dragonlord in time to prevent their deaths.
"Fȳr proba beschielden," he muttered under his breath, his eyes glowing bright gold for an instant as these words left his lips.
"Merlin!" came a shout suddenly from the doorway. Startled, Merlin scrambled hurriedly to his feet, knocking over several spears lining the walls in his haste.
"Careful Merlin," chiding Arthur in frustration as he strode into the room, "What on Earth are you doing in here?"
"Um… sorry," he stuttered, frantically trying to right the fallen spears, only succeeding in adding to the chaos, "I was just preparing the, uh… the weapons… for the battle."
"Preparing what?" the prince asked incredulously, "All weapons are readied for use before they are stored away… what else is there you could possibly do… apart from dent them all apparently."
"I was just uh… checking that they were ah… sharp enough?" he proffered, gesturing lamely at the disarray of spears to his left.
"And what exactly were you planning on sharpening them with?" demanded Arthur, staring pointedly and Merlin's conspicuously empty hands.
"Ah… good point," replied Merlin with a forced grin that didn't quite meet his eyes, "I'll just go and fetch a whet stone now and-"
"There's no time for that now Merlin, the spears are as sharp as they're going to be," rejoined Arthur with a sigh, "Come on, I need you to dress me in my armour; we must ride out soon."
"Yes Sire," said Merlin quickly, glancing back over his shoulder at the pile of shields stacked neatly in the corner before following his master meekly from the room.
Fifteen horses tramped the hard ground impatiently as they stood in a close knit circle in battle formation. Their riders: Thirteen brave knights, the Crown Prince and his servant, all shifted uncomfortably in their saddles. They had exhausted the diversions of 'eye-spy' in a few short minutes and were now, several hours later, each trying to ignore the growing need to Urinate. Passing water just wasn't simple when clad head to toe in chainmail sat upon a horse waiting to face almost certain death by Dragon flames…
"I'm just saying," Stated Sir Fergus indignantly, "you could have borrowed some armour from me, I have a perfectly good spare suit lying in my chambers as we speak."
"Well that's hardly very helpful is it Fergus," retorted Sir Driant impatiently, "the lad's already here now! He can hardly nip back for a quick change of clothes!"
"It just makes us look bad that's all!" grumbled Fergus unhappily, "here we are all trussed up in our armour and there's the servant facing a dragon with nothing else to protect him but his neckerchief!"
Merlin said nothing, his eyes continuing to scan the horizon, ignoring the mumblings of the disgruntled knight.
"He has a point Sire," Leon agreed, looking round at the prince, "what say we all chip in and get the boy his own suit, give him a sporting chance?"
"Focus men, please!" Arthur exclaimed. "Now is not the time to be discussing Merlin's wardrobe."
"No, we should be discussing why none of you saw fit to bring your shields with you into battle!" cried Merlin suddenly, reiterating a much repeated argument he had already assailed the young knights with throughout the long hot afternoon.
"That's enough Merlin, what armour and weaponry a knight chooses to wear into battle is his own affair," chided Arthur in frustration.
"But that's just my point, why is it such a folly for us not have our shields, when you've not got a scrap of armour to your name!" declared Fergus incredulously.
"I have mine…" muttered Leon in a soft voice, gripping the great studded shield in his left hand.
"Quiet all of you!" demanded Arthur in despair.
In the silence that followed this admonition, the faint sound of wings beating in the night drifted through the air toward them. A sudden ripple of tension spread through the group as each man adjusted his position and readied himself for battle, Arthur holding them steady as the fearsome creature approached.
All at once the beast was upon them and Arthur shouted the command for them to ride out and circle the great Dragon. Two knights were immediately knocked from their horses, the tail of the Dragon sending them flying. A sickening crunch reached the ears of the other riders as their necks were snapped like dry twigs, their bodies rolling lifelessly across the grass.
As the giant reptile spun around in anger, the full force of his fiery discharge hit the flank of the leading horses until all the remaining knights were engulfed in flames. Shrieks of agony were eaten up by the deafening roar of the flames as the men were instantly burned alive inside their own armour, the fat on their bones feeding the flames and causing the inferno to leap greedily into the air.
Knocked bodily from his horse by the force of the heat, Leon fell heavily onto the ground, holding his shield up defensively to ward off the flames. As the first tongues of fire lapped at the bright paint-work of the shield a strange thing happened. Leon could not believe his eyes as he watched the barrage of fire deflect off the shield and arc up harmlessly over his head. He screwed up his eyes against the heat and as the oxygen was slowly burned away around him, the walls of his awareness came crashing in and darkness descended upon him with a dull thud… leaving one lone knight lying in an unconscious heap amid a sea of flames and roasting flesh…