Hello all, back again! Well it's been a pretty crazy couple of weeks, ergo haven't had much time to write but tonight I am sitting with my laptop in the candlelight listening to the rain hitting the window and hoping that inspiration will come and hit me over the head! Here's hoping the Earl Grey and a bit of peace & quiet do the trick! Ah well, thank you to those of you who have reviewed, it really does help. For those of you still keeping up with the story I thank you for making it with me this far. Really been struggling to get a sense of what the people reading think of this story but I have finally realised that I need to get this story out of my head and do the decent thing by giving it a proper ending. Still have a wee while to go first but it's getting there. Sorry it's taken me so long to get this next chapter posted, I hope you like it...

Chapter Nine

Both Arthur and Morgana spun and raised their blades to the pile of blackened armour that now clattered its way towards them. Sir Cadeyrn already looked a force to be reckoned with, a keenly-edged axe swung from a thick, tightly bound belt at his waist and his gauntleted fingers gripped the hilt of his sword aloft which gleamed brilliantly in the hot afternoon sun. He did not seem the diplomatic sort!

Peering through the narrow visor in his helmet Arthur could just make out the strange markings on Cadeyrn's blade. Bizarre linear scrapings that looked almost like some sort of script but not of any language he recognised. Had Morgana noticed it? The armour was strange as well, the individual plates were identical in purpose to any other knight's but forged in a way that certainly wasn't performed by any local craftsman. This Sir Cadeyrn was clearly well-travelled. Beside him Morgana shifted nervously from foot to foot, no longer concerned with her tournament opponent but now consumed by this unwelcome new-comer.

Too busy focusing on the woman at his side Arthur did not see the first blow that came flying his way, blocked only by the cold steel of Morgana's own sword. If the Queen truly knew who he was he doubted very much she would be defending him but he did not have time to think much before he caught another swing, this time making contact with his gut. The force of the hit knocked the wind from him and he staggered momentarily then somehow found himself frozen to the spot, unable to move. Fortunately Morgana unwittingly came to his aid once more by landing her own blade solidly into the other man's back. Then all of a sudden a morning star appeared from somewhere into the Knight's free hand and the Sorceress found herself hedging backwards, her injury all but forgotten as she swerved herself away from the three spiked spheres that threatened to bludgeon her to death with every turn.

It was like watching some sort of dreadful tableau from somewhere far off in the distance. The former Prince felt heavy and helpless, as if he had been suspended in a dream. Then he heard a voice but it wasn't quite hearing as such, almost as though a voice just appeared in his head, gentle and familiar albeit insistent;

Arthur...Arthur! You must hurry! Your sister needs you!

He jerked as he came back to himself, confusion completely overtaking his mind;

"Mother!" he called out. It was her!

He glanced wildly about the arena. Something had been holding him, keeping him in such a daze where he could do nothing but look on. He trotted after Morgana, sidling himself up at Cadeyrn's back. Morgana had finally been forced into tripping over her own, landing on her her back with an almighty thud with the woman's helmet being knocked flying. She stared up at him with wild eyes, powerful magic coursed its way through her veins ready to be unleashed upon this abominable figure before her when she was stopped short.

As Cadeyrn took one final colossal swing he was caught by Arthur's blade, entangled in the wrought iron chains behind him. Gathering all the strength he could muster Arthur yanked the weapon out of the other man's grip, sending it careering across the field and into some unfortunate section of spectators who thankfully all managed to dive out of the way before it smashed through the wall behind.

With one parry and then another Arthur drew this great bear of a man away from the Sorceress who had, by now, recovered her helmet and begun chasing after the pair. Block by block the tables steadily turned and between the two of them they found themselves on level footing with their shared opponent. Blades levelled at each other Arthur removed his helmet, letting it drop to the dusty ground to a gasping audience;

"I am Arthur, former Prince Royal of this Kingdom. I demand you tell me what business you have here!"

Morgana's helmet snapped around to the figure beside her, the shock just evident through the slit where her blue/grey eyes showed bright and clear as well as a controlled fury that Arthur knew all too well. The knight did not reveal himself at first, weighing up his opponent before slowly raising a hand to lift the heavy helm.

Beneath was a man of around thirty, a long and full beard covered over his face and neck. His long, wavy hair was a dull brown streaked with the occasional grey though his eyes were a blue as the sea and sparkled in the glare of the sun but an angry scar ran from his left temple down to the corner of his mouth which lent the man a more sinister air. When he spoke his voice was gruff and his tone dangerous;

"My business is with this Queen Morgana" he flicked the tip of his blade towards her as if emphasising the point before turning his rough features back to Arthur, "not you though you are a strong fighter, you would do well to join my cause!" At this he laughed, though what is was that he found amusing was proving elusive to both Arthur and Morgana.

"What sort of cause is it that brings you to lay sword on Camelot?"

Cadeyrn sneered back at the question. "What concern is that of yours? From what I hear you have no reason to be loyal to this one." He gave a brief but still disgusted leer at Morgana, "you would be well paid and have food your belly. All with the satisfaction of settling old scores."

The more Arthur heard the man speak the more he realised he spoke with a similar accent to Merlin. His armour may be foreign but he was local.

"I think I will...give it a miss, if it is all the same to you."

"Then you have chosen your fate."

Cadeyrn swept us his helmet and stormed away from the stricken pair.

From his place in the spectator's stands Merlin watched the knight make his exit, noting the curious cloaked figure that lumbered off after him from another place in the crowd, leaning heavily on a crooked staff, gnarled fingers being the only visible sign of what lurked beneath the woollen hood.

On the field Morgana took one look at Arthur, glad the closed helm disguised her own stricken features before stomping off to the armoury gates.

It was only when she sat down and allowed herself the space the breathe that the nagging sensation in her thigh caught up with her, making her shake violently in the agony that followed. She was fully aware that it would not be long before Gaius, the court physician came to find her. She laughed mirthlessly. Even through the pain she could sense his presence nearby. It was one of the gifts she had inherited on the death of Morgause- the ability to sense others even if they were miles away. During her time on Avalon after her inaugurations she had learned to hone the skill to some degree but it was another one of those things that required more practice than time allowed.

Thinking of Morgause made her ache and smile all in one instant. She needed her here, now more than ever. She needed her guidance, her seemingly endless wisdom but most of all she needed a pair of arms around her to take the hurt away. The hurt that she, herself, caused the witch thought bitterly. Mother said she and Morgause would be helping me...so where are they then?

She was distracted from her thoughts by the creaking of a door. Instinctively she drew her sword and peered into the darkness, her own nerves sending the chilling tingles up her spine and along her arms where the fine hairs stood, as if they too were ready to pounce like a cat on some unsuspecting intruder. She relaxed as she saw it was only Gaius and lowered herself back into the chair. It was only a simple wooden thing, no luxury in its making but right now it provided the small relief that her body cried out for.

With the assistance of her young Squire armour was removed and wound attended albeit with the occasional tutting and murmuring of disapproval from Gaius. It was then with weary footsteps that she carried herself up to her chamber before slumping down onto the bed. She teetered on the edge of sleep for some time before shooting up on hearing her sister's musical tones in her mind;

Sister, I am never very far away...

But when she opened her eyes it was the serving girl Aelwyd she found, nervously curled around the door;

"My Lady...My Lady...it is time to ready ourselves for the final feast. My Lady, are you quite well?"

Morgana could only look about her and nod. She would leave for Avalon in the morning, she needed the sound counsel of Isilda.

To be continued...