Longest night of the year today. Happy Solstice to all those it matters to! :D And Happy Chanukah! And Merry Three Days Before Christmas! And Happy/Merry whatever other celebration happens to be in this month!
Now back to the the grim matters.
~15~ For the Land of Albion
Merlin curled up, one hand in his shirt to clutch the wound. He saw Lancelot staring hopelessly at him, tears of defeat threatening to fall. He was too weak to brush them away. The bravest knight of them all was swallowed by despair. Merlin was not. The warlock smiled lightly and let a flash of blue show through the dagger-made hole in his shirt, just as Fear and Famine grasped either of his arms and hauled him to his feet.
He moaned in pain as they dragged him back before the archway of Bloodshed, and then Fear grasped his elbow and held his arm up, hand towards Morgana.
"Morgana! Wait, please!" Arthur's voice cracked in desperation. "Let us come to an agreement here."
"Don't bother, Arthur," croaked Merlin weakly. "There's no reasoning with a witch."
A moment later, six slices cut open his palm, and the circled star decreed his doom.
"We can work this out, Morgana."
"Listen to him, the great Prince Arthur Pendragon," said the sorceress arrogantly. "Protector of the poor and worthless, defender of servants – not but a grovelling, begging swine beneath a cloak of honour."
"...Just...let him go."
Merlin was turned around between the two Knights, and he saw Caedeşqụe reaching down for him. The Knight was only able to stretch so far before the force of the veil kept his hand back. An air of frustration radiated from him: he still needed Morgana's incantations to permit him to pass between the worlds.
"You're only making this more enjoyable for me, 'brother,'" Morgana sneered. To Merlin, "Don't worry. It will only hurt until you're dead." And she began her enchantments. "Dai poteri Antichi, ho... rompere la barriera..."
Silence.
A corner of Merlin's mouth lifted as Morgana's commanding voice faded away. The sorceress cleared her throat and tried again.
"Dai poteri Antichi, ho rompere..." The confusion in her aura was like a harlequin at a funeral – so obvious that even the Knights turned their heads to stare at her inquiringly.
Though it pained him, Merlin leaned forward slightly while the Archons were distracted, and winked at Arthur. As though hearing unspoken words through telepathy, the prince nodded, and just managed to stop himself from stepping away from the archway; the bonds no longer held him or Gwaine, not after Merlin took the Phoenix Feather from Morgana as he tripped into her and slipped it under his shirt. A silent hand from Arthur signalled Gwaine still as well, not that he would know what Merlin's plan was.
The warlock heaved a tight breath, and tilted his head up. He watched the circling wyvern for a moment before focusing on a particularly large horizontal crack in the tower wall.
Morgana screamed, "Dai poteri Antichi...! Dai poteri Antichi—!"
The magic of the Ancient Kingdom was no longer within her power. Without the Feather, her influence, her abilities, had returned to what was natural for her. For Merlin, however...
He felt the warmth of the Feather against his flesh on his chest as it healed his wound, and then his hand, leaving his body whole. Its channelling power fell in sync with his own magic perfectly, and he felt stronger than he'd ever been before. It was exhilarating, invigorating, yet he kept voice softer than a kitten's belly as he targeted the flaws of the tower high above. "Moęnĭbus...putrô."
The gap in the ruins split wide like a joker's humoured grin. Morgana's curses of frustration stopped abruptly as she turned at the sound. Astonishment quickly turned to fury, and she threw her hands up as though to hold the wall up, shrieking, "Firmąe tenēnt!"
The ancient Tower of Mitheras grumbled. Dust fell, as did individual bricks, but the wall held – except for one hunk of rubble. It fell from high above. Wyvern squealed and dove out of its way, and before Morgana could catch it, it smashed into the ground, sending chunks of shrapnel everywhere, including towards the pentagram.
Merlin threw himself to the ground. Caedeşqụe's fiery horse reared, and flying rubble destroyed the archway. As the portal exploded, there was an echo of Bloodshed's howl of fury as the veil fluttered away and dissipated into the breeze.
The two liberated Knights bellowed in anger even as they were knocked over by flying stone. They immediately stood back up and ran for their horses.
By now, Morgana was certain she is without the Feather. She stopped checking her pockets, and turned her dark gaze on Merlin, still lying stunned on his stomach, coated in dust.
"Where is it?" she demanded, striding over and grabbing the warlock by the hair. She yanked his head up, and he grunted. "Give it to me!"
It was to the surprise of all when Merlin swung a fist and punched the witch in the throat. It wasn't very hard, considering his position, but it was enough to make Morgana recoil and release him. He rolled away and stood, only to have to duck under the grasping gauntlet of Mėtû. He wasn't fast enough, and the furious Knight managed to snag his jacket from his seat in the saddle.
"Get away from him!" Arthur charged across the pentagram, swinging Lancelot's fallen sword. Before Fear could react, the prince thrust the blade into his side, between the armour plates. The Knight snarled in fury, and tried to kick Arthur away, but Merlin reached up, grabbed his arm and pulled him off-balance in the saddle.
More of the tower crumbled to the ground. A barking command from Mėtû set the Night Mare shrieking and rearing. She twisted on her hind legs, fore-hooves flailing dangerously. The prince and warlock dove out of the way even as the demon horse bucked.
I fed oats to this monster! Merlin thought.
"Kill him!" Morgana ordered, pointing at the servant. "Now!"
The Night Mare fell still as Fear curbed her, and then both he and Famine turned their horses around to face the sorceress.
"What are you waiting for?" Morgana snapped as the Knights remained silent. And then Mėtû spoke.
"We no longer answer to you, my lady," he said, bowing lightly in the saddle. A chunk of stone, exploding from a larger piece nearby, hit him in the helmet, but he didn't seem to notice.
"...What?"
The Archons turned their heads towards Merlin, who was helping Arthur stand. The warlock paled under their gaze.
"You, my lord, shall free our brothers."
Merlin glanced down at the blue Feather, now in his hand, looking unruffled despite the recent rough treatment, then at Arthur, and finally at the Knight. "Um...no?"
After staring quietly at the servant for several uncomfortable moments, Fear kneed his horse towards him. "You must, my lord."
"Hm, nah, I don't think I will."
Again the Knight hesitated. He glanced at his brother for a second, as though at a loss.
Merlin only had the span of a heartbeat to throw himself in front of Arthur and shield him from the gust of black flames bellowing from Morgana's outstretched arms.
The startled prince nearly pulled Merlin to the ground and get him out of the fire's aim, when he realized that the flames never even reached them before they divided and past them on either side, like a boulder separating a river. Merlin, eyes shut, had held the Feather out before him like a shield, and the black fire could not touch it.
Morgana let the flames flicker and die, astonished. Merlin forced himself to looked equally shocked as he glanced between them all. Debris from above interrupted the confusion.
"The tower's falling!" Gwaine bellowed. The ruffian knight had the starved Lancelot in his arms. The company all looked up to see more and more of the ancient structure crumble. Panicking wyvern circled crazily, seemingly oblivious to the open escape route above them.
"Free my brothers!" Mėtû roared, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Merlin, disregarding the cloud of dust that bellowed around him. Arthur stepped before the warlock, upholding the sword in defence, and then he put his hand to his split cheek.
"What the..."
Merlin blinked as he saw the cut, caused by Morgana's cruel, unseen whip, heal itself, leaving Arthur's flesh like it had ever been. He felt the Feather warm in his hand, and glance down to see it glowing a faint dusk-blue. As it faded, he looked up to see Fąmem struggle to restrain his suddenly jittery horse.
There was a tug in the air that began as the Feather started to glow again, and abruptly, Famine turned his horse towards the tower exit and kicked it into a gallop. Yet, for all the speed he could have forced from the scrawny beast, it wasn't enough. The archway of the second Knight of the Apocalypse reopened, and quickly caught hold of the fleeing Archon and his horse, before sucking them back.
The ebony creature squealed and dug its hooves into the dead grass around the pentagram, and then sparks flashed from under-hoof as it was dragged back across the stone star. To everyone else, the suction was just a strong wind; to Fąmem and his horse, it was doom.
With one final whinny of the horse and a last roar from the Knight, they were pulled back through the archway, back into their own dormant world.
"How are you doing this?" Arthur demanded of his servant, yelling over the crash of crumbling tower.
"I'm not!" Merlin cried back, and it was with full honesty. He really wasn't doing anything. "The Feather! It must—" The warlock was interrupted by a furious roar from Mėtû, and he turned to see the Knight bearing down on him, blade bared.
Arthur pushed Merlin out of danger and met the Archon sword for sword.
"We must get out of here!" Gwaine was already carrying Lancelot, still bone-thin and weak, towards the tower's tall doorway. The ground started to shake. "Arthur! Come on!"
Another section of Mitheras Tower plummeted to earth, and Halosĭs was helpless as the stones exploded nearby and smashed his archway. A brief wail of fury was audible as the portal was annihilated.
"Merlin, go! Get out, now!" Arthur bellowed over his shoulder, still in combat with Fear. "Do what I say!"
Merlin stole a quick glance at Môrtęm's archway, and saw Death's kin stir restlessly, angrily, before Morgana attacked from behind. She wrapped her arms around his, pinning them to his sides, and tried to take the still-glowing Feather back. With a great deal of squirming, the warlock broke free, and had to duck away from the elaborate dagger in the sorceress's hand.
Gwaine's frustrated roar was almost impossible to discern from the collapsing tower. Merlin focused on his adversary, but a terrified yell from the prince interjected and he glanced over to see Arthur cowering in fear before Mėtû for no apparent reason, clutching his ears.
"Arthur!"
It was a desperate move, but Merlin picked up a fallen rock and chucked it at Morgana. The witch was too slow to respond and it hit her in the head. She fell, stunned.
"They're just hallucinations, Arthur! Just empty visions and voices! Don't pay them attention! They aren't real!" The warlock's voice was swallowed by the grumbling tower. He saw Mėtû's sword raise to strike the helpless prince. "No!"
And then, Fear's portal reactivated.
Mėtû felt his sword being tugged over his head, towards his empty archway. Staring at his upheld arm in confusion, he used his other to try to force it back down to kill the Pendragon. Then the rest of him started to be drawn back as well. Ňocte'ĕquả squealed and attempted to bolt, but the archway's pull was too strong, just as it was for Fąmem.
"Nooooo!" The outraged howl emitted from the dark helmet as the cursed Night Mare reared and was torn from the ground. All four hooves were in the air when they disappeared back into the archway, and the Archon's cries were silenced at last, and forever.
Merlin did not wait to watch the archway of Fear being destroyed. He dodged back as a chunk of rubble smashed to the ground and the pieces propelled themselves between him and Arthur. He nearly rushed through the following clouds of dust, but a sudden, even larger puff of dark smoke exploded from underfoot, blinding him and preventing him from returning to his friend. And then a shearing, stabbing pain ripped through his calf, and he fell forward with a scream of agony.
"Give me my Feather!" Morgana shrieked, using her dagger to keep Merlin down. She left the knife in his leg and crawled up beside him, reaching for the channelling tool in the warlock's hand. There was no doubt the witch had created the blinding curtain of smoke.
"Merlin!" The prince's cries were audible through the black dust wall, but Merlin knew not where he stood, only where he should go. He could do nothing but remain silent, and hope that the Pendragon's common sense would kick in and make him flee. But then, it's Arthur—
Common sense couldn't 'kick' the prince into motion. The failing tower will have to.
"Merlin!" The prince's desperate cries tore at the servant's heart as he wrestled mutely with Morgana. But he sounded more faded, distant, which meant he was actually leaving.
Go, Merlin pleaded inwardly. Go, sire. Go, dollop-head.
The warlock squirmed away from Morgana's grasp and struggled to his feet. Debris landed where he was lying a second ago, and the sorceress was lost from sight. Unbidden, he felt the dagger tug free of his leg and the wound heal itself. The Phoenix Feather hummed lightly in his grasp, the warmth of it making his palms sweat.
He tried to search for Morgana, but all he saw was a fresh cloud of black smoke as the sorceress dissipated into the wind, leaving him alone in the courtyard. Around him, the tower moaned, buckling. The exit was too far away. He'd never make it—
He tilted his head back, and locked his gaze on the still-circling wyvern above. The power of the Dragonlord once again filled his heart and mind.
"Wyvern! Yr wyf yn Emrys! Helpwch fi i hyn—"
The great Tower of Mitheras collapsed.
† † †
"MERLIN!"
Gwaine had to tackle Arthur from around the waist to the ground, and then drag him back to prevent him from returning to the falling tower. The prince struggled, arms pinned to his sides by Gwaine's.
"MERLIN! NO!"
His voice clawed his throat, even as the ancient structure finally crumbled to ruin, finally died, taking the servant with it.
A few moments later, the tower fell silent, and so did the Pendragon prince. He stilled in Gwaine's restraints, and stared emptily at the remains, breathing heavily.
The dust rising from the rubble was shrouded in gold from the rising sun. High above, the surviving wyvern swarmed, shrieking, before making their way east. One turned west, but Arthur paid no attention as Gwaine released him and he fell to his knees.
He was gone. The idiot was actually gone.
Arthur stood sluggishly, and started for the ruins. Gwaine followed. They both climbed the rubble, and less than half-heartedly rooted around for a body. There was nothing left, but they knew not what else to do. After a long search, they returned to Lancelot, who was slumped against a low wall, silent as the rising sun.
Suddenly, their hearts leaped in expectation. They heard the turning of rocks, and whirled around to see a form moving in the cloud of dust. Then someone shot those risen hearts with a crossbow as the form emerged from the cloud, and it wasn't Merlin.
"When Darkness comes unto the world, beneath the shadow moon,
The bane of fate shall dance with him, and bring about her doom.
For he will call the Lord of Sky, the Luminance of the Sun,
He shall triumph over Darkness, for the land of Albion."
Arthur and Gwaine glanced bewildered at each other as a thin, insane man shuffled past them, wringing his hands, eyes wild. Again the man chanted his song, and wandered away into the dead city.
Once more, all sound dampened, and the servant never stepped from the clearing dust, grinning that goofy grin of his or tripping over his own feet. Nor will he ever again.
Arthur's fists clenched. "Damn it, Merlin!" he snapped, voice cracking. He kicked a rock, sending it flying through the air. His shoulders fell. "Damn it."
Rough Latin Translations:
Moenibus...putro: Walls...crumble.
Firmae tenent: Hold steady
Rough Welsh translation:
Wyvern! Yr wyf yn Emrys! Helpwch— : Wyvern! I am Emrys! Help—