A/N: Wow. I know I don't always manage to respond to all the reviews, but I hope you all know that I love each and every one of you! Hopefully this chapter lives up to your expectations.
The title for this chapter comes from Tennyson's Idylls of the King, specifically the "Merlin and Vivien" story. If you know how that poem goes, you might be able to guess how this chapter ends...
Chapter Seventeen: Woven Paces, Waving Hands
Merlin thought he should have been used to flying by now, what with all the times he'd been thrown into walls. He hadn't had much time to think when he felt Morgana's spell yank him out the window and into the courtyard below. All he could do was frantically shove his magic out of himself like water from a capsizing boat. Soon he could feel himself start to slow as he hurtled towards the hard ground.
That said, there was nothing that could prepare him for the whack he felt as he hit the cobblestones and bounced, rolling quite a few feet before stopping. When he finally came to a halt, Merlin stared up at the sky, gasping as it spun above him.
He should be dead, he thought hysterically. At the very least, he should have broken bones. Clearly his magic had acted once again to protect him, because though every part of his body certainly felt bruised after flying into the wall of the throne room and falling out a window, nothing seemed to be broken except his dignity.
He lifted his head, trying to ignore the way the world lurched at the motion, and saw Morgana on the other side of the courtyard. The witch had landed on her feet no worse for the wear, still as beautifully terrifying as ever. Obviously, the ability to appear composed no matter the situation ran in the Pendragon line.
Merlin forced himself to refocus and stand up as Morgana advanced towards him, her hand outstretched and a snarl on her lips. She had been aided by magic as well in surviving her fall, but she didn't appear to be disoriented at all. She had probably used a spell instead of relying on raw instinct like he had.
That was his major weakness, Merlin realized. He had more power, but little access to education and even less time to train. Now that magic was legal, maybe he'd finally be able to fix that.
Of course, first he had to survive.
Morgana screamed words Merlin wasn't even sure he recognized, and a blast more blinding than the sun shot towards him.
"Scildan," Merlin said firmly. He took a step back as the spell slammed into his shield, and he nearly fell over backwards with the force of it.
Morgana blasted him again. "You took everything from me! My sister, my throne, my vengeance, my dragon—"
The blast dissipated upon meeting his shield as anger blazed through him. "Your dragon? Dragons are meant to be free, not chained up! Astrice!"
Morgana gasped as she threw her arms in front of her face. "Geealge!" The spell suddenly diverted into the ground instead, taking out a chunk of the street. She lowered her arms and smirked. "You'll not be my doom today, Emrys."
Merlin took a full, shuddering breath and forced his fists to unclench. "I don't want to be. But I can't let you hurt this kingdom. Leave Camelot. In the name of the woman you used to be, I'm asking you to leave. I'll let you go."
"Not without what's mine," Morgana snarled as her eyes glowed and she made a tight fist in midair.
Merlin suddenly felt a noose tightening around his throat, tighter, tighter, and a raging something in him snapped. Morgana skidded back a few feet as the pressure on his throat released.
He glared into her bloodthirsty eyes, voice lowering darkly. "It's not yours. It never was. Not the throne, not the castle, and certainly not the dragon. Now leave this kingdom and everyone in it alone or I will kill you."
Undaunted, Morgana stepped forward. Red electricity danced at her fingertips. "Not if I kill you first."
Arthur caught himself on the edge of the hole in the wall of the throne room, watching frantically as Merlin hit the ground and rolled. The warlock finally came to a stop after several feet and rose, looking a bit dazed but once again unharmed, and Arthur let himself breathe.
Then he bolted from the room, only vaguely registering the councilmen's cries of shock. The warning bell started to ring as he pounded down the stairs. Arthur had no idea what he'd do once he got down there—what good would he be, except to be another target for Morgana's spells?—but he knew he had to do something.
So fast was his speed as he neared the hallway leading to the courtyard that he would have bowled Leon, Elyan, and Gwaine over had Percival not been standing behind them.
"Oh good, you've already heard," said Gwaine cheerfully. "Save us a trip upstairs."
"What are you lot doing here?" the king demanded. "I told you to help Guinevere!"
"The queen ordered us to get you and join the fight, my lord," said Leon. Out of the four of them, he looked the most out of breath, probably because he'd run to fetch the others. "Whatever Merlin did that was protecting the city, it's gone. The enemy's at the gates, and a couple of them are scaling the walls with grappling hooks."
"We're on our way to help the rest of the knights," added Percival.
Arthur mentally groaned. Of course. He had been so preoccupied with Morgana's entrance to the throne room and Merlin's near-death that he'd nearly forgotten she had left an army of mercenaries at Camelot's gates.
"Hold on, where's Merlin?" demanded Gwaine, tilting to look behind Arthur as if he fully expected the warlock to pop out of the ground behind the king.
"Merlin's…busy," Arthur improvised, running a hand through his hair. "Come on." He continued his dash down the hall towards the courtyard, knights at his heels.
Though Gwaine followed with the others, he clearly wasn't satisfied with Arthur's answer. "What do you mean, busy? Wasn't he with you?"
"If you must know, Morgana threw him out the window," Arthur snapped. He was not in the mood to deal with Gwaine right now, not when his mind was whirling with jumbled thoughts of Merlin fighting for his life and Morgana's men on the verge of breaking into Camelot.
"Threw him out the window?" Elyan repeated incredulously.
"How'd she even get in?" asked Percival.
They rounded the corner, and Arthur pushed a bit more speed out of his legs, leaving his knights lagging behind. "To be fair, he threw her out the window first."
Gwaine huffed, "Merlin? Our Merlin?"
They reached the top of the stairs leading down to the courtyard, and the sight that greeted them silenced them all.
The courtyard was littered with rubble and glass from the shattered windows. Craters dotted the cobblestones. Merlin stood at the foot of the stairs with his back to them. His attention was entirely consumed by the red lightning streaming halfway across the courtyard between him and Morgana. Both witch and warlock were leaning into their spells, legs locked as if pushing against a strong wind. They bellowed over each other, but Arthur could hardly tell whether they were shouting cries of frustration or actual words.
Then Merlin roared, and the red light all converged upon Morgana in an explosion so brilliant that the watching knights had to hold up their arms to block the light.
Merlin lurched and fell over backward onto the stairs as the red lightning released him. He sat there sprawled over the stairs a moment, gasping for breath. Then, as if he had some sort of sixth sense attuned to Arthur's presence, his head tilted up to see the king and the knights rushing down the stairs towards him. They gathered around Merlin's crumpled form.
Arthur yanked him up by the shoulders. "Merlin, are you alright?"
"Fine," Merlin answered between heaving breaths. "What are you doing here, you clotpole?! Camelot's being invaded and the battle's on the other side of the city!"
"I noticed," Arthur snapped back. "Some of us can't teleport there or take the window, Merlin."
Merlin's head jerked up and he lunged, shoving Arthur out of the way and sweeping his arm in front of him. Arthur whirled to see the cobblestones rip themselves from the ground to absorb another blast of red lightning. Morgana, apparently, had recovered.
As one, Arthur and the knights drew their swords, although what use mere blades would be against that much lightning, Arthur had no idea.
Merlin's brow furrowed as he pushed the cobblestones against the spell. "Go!" he shouted at them. "I've got her! You need to deal with her army! Get out of here! Go! GO!"
Suddenly, the air seemed to thicken around Arthur, squeezing him and making his ears pop. He had a quick glimpse of Merlin's eyes glowing gold and rocks flying at the warlock's head before his own vision went black. When it returned, Arthur saw not the courtyard, but one of the gates clear on the other end of the citadel.
Arthur stumbled. He barely had time to process that the knights had landed next to him with varying cries of surprise before he was lifting his sword to defend against an oncoming swing.
He blocked it more out of instinct than anything else, then stopped when he saw his attacker. "Sir Caridoc?!"
"Sire!" Sir Caridoc jumped, lowering his sword immediately. "You just—appeared!"
Arthur cursed. Merlin, the idiot, had just teleported them all across the city to the edge of the battle, instead of protecting himself from Morgana's spell. Stupid, useless, idiotic excuse for a manservant! If Merlin wasn't alive by the time Arthur got back to that courtyard…
Arthur took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and steeled his face to fit the calm, commanding, kingly persona the situation demanded. He took one quick survey of his surroundings. At the top of the battlements, grappling hooks were dangling; below them, skirmishes erupted all along the street between the knights and the mercenaries who'd managed to get over the walls. The majority of Camelot's knights, however, were gathered in a swarm around the northwest gate, which was quaking in a steady rhythm as if being knocked by a giant fist.
"Never mind that," Arthur ordered, "Give me a status report. What's their strategy? How many are inside?"
Caridoc shook himself and straightened. "Since the army's numbers have diminished, particularly the level of sorcerers, they can't surround the city and they've lost most of their magical advantage. They tried to send men over to open the gates. A couple dozen made it over, my lord, but our men atop the battlements have shot down almost all of them. But now the army's got some sort of battering ram, and as far as we can tell it's reinforced with magic. They're focusing on the west and northwest gates. The west gate is holding, sire, but the northwest—"
The nearby northwest gate crumpled with a crash, and Morgana's forces began pouring in.
Well, Arthur thought sourly, at least they couldn't all charge at once. They'd have to come in a bottleneck through the gate. All Arthur's men had to do was drive them back.
"MEN!" Arthur shouted, wielding his magic sword high in the air, "KEEP THEM OUT! FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!"
And whether they heard their king or not, Camelot's forces screamed and charged at the enemy.
Mercenaries poured through by the dozens, axes, maces, and swords clashing with Camelot knights' steel, and Arthur soon lost track of Caridoc and the knights who'd arrived here with him. He had his own fights to win. And win them he did, because he was back in his element. He moved his body in perfect rhythm, feet positioning without thought, the sword he'd pulled from the stone glistening in the morning sunlight as he swung with practiced precision.
Still, no matter how many more dents his armor suffered, how many of his knights he aided, no matter how many enemies he slew, Arthur could tell Camelot's forces were slowly being driven back as more of the enemy funneled through the gate. The first row of homes nearest the gate were already demolished, and Arthur silently thanked his wife for evacuating the people deeper into the castle.
As Arthur ducked beneath a mace aimed at his head, he found himself thinking in frustration that all of this would have been a lot easier with magic.
At that moment, a swiftly moving shadow cut across the ground in front of him, and the mace-wielder Arthur had been fighting was snatched into the air by a long claw.
Arthur shielded his eyes as he gazed up at the sky and let out a relieved laugh. Merlin's dragon—the bigger one, the Great Dragon—had arrived.
But far from the relief Arthur felt, Camelot's knights were now openly panicking. They now faced mercenaries and sorcerers below and, it seemed, a dragon from above. Morgana's forces, however, were pushing forward with renewed confidence, apparently certain the witch had summoned it to aid them.
"DO NOT ATTACK THE DRAGON!" Arthur bellowed, hoping his men could hear him. He spotted the nearest knight, who despite looking petrified was preparing to chuck a fallen mercenary's spear at the creature. "NO! THE DRAGON'S ON OUR SIDE!"
The dragon seemed to sense the problem. Having plucked up a couple mercenaries in his claws, he flew around to the other side of Camelot's wall. He dropped the screaming mercenaries from high in the air, then dipped down to the ground. Arthur felt the earth shake as the dragon landed next to the horde still outside and pushing to get through the gate.
Then the world outside the wall erupted into flames. The very air seemed to crackle and shake with the heat, enough that everyone within the walls, knight, mercenary, and sorcerer alike, dived for cover.
The flames went out, and all was silent. Arthur raised his head from the ground where he'd fallen, anxiously surveying the battle. Beyond the gate, outside Camelot's walls, there was now nothing but ash. More than half of Morgana's army had been utterly obliterated.
The dragon flew back into the air, hovering just above the startled warriors below. His golden eyes met Arthur's, and he inclined his head slightly in a bow. "Your majesty."
Then he dived back down, plucking up more mercenaries in his claws and leaving the knights untouched.
His actions sent the battlefield into an uproar as every man suddenly realized which side the dragon was on. Instantly the knights surged forward, heartened at their new ally if a bit confused. Meanwhile, some mercenaries flat out turned and fled back through the gate in a mad dash for the woods beyond; others wagered their chances were better sticking close to the knights, apparently with the idea they were less likely to be roasted. The few sorcerers present started to gather in clusters to attack the dragon, but gathering in groups made it easier for the dragon to blast them with fire without fear of harming the knights.
"DRIVE THEM OUT!" Arthur shouted, and he heard the command repeated by others along the battlefront. Arthur swept the sweat dripping into his eyes away and gave his sword a triumphant twirl. This battle was theirs.
Merlin groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground. Blood clotted in his hair where a large stone had slammed into the side of his head.
But Arthur and the knights were safe, and that was what mattered. Or at least, as safe as they could be at the edge of the battlefield. That was, hopefully, where Merlin had sent them. He'd never really done anything like that before—hadn't even really planned to do it. He'd just wanted them all away from Morgana, and then they were.
"What's the matter, Merlin?" Morgana crowed. "Why didn't you let your little friends stay? Afraid you can't protect them?"
Merlin winced as his head throbbed. She sounded nearer, and if he squinted he could just make out a dark form coming closer through his blurred vision. He felt himself leaning too far to the left, overcorrected, and nearly fell down. He pressed a hand hard against the bloody wound on the side of his head and muttered, "Thurh-haele braed."
The throb in his head dulled only a bit, and Merlin repeated the spell, concentrating hard. This time, some of the dizziness lessened, and his vision sharpened enough to see Morgana moving towards him, palms filled with flames.
"You can't, you know," Morgana continued. "When this is over, I'm going to hunt your little friends down, one by one. I'm going to execute them in this very courtyard. Let them taste the flames, like so many others did…Except for Arthur. I want the crows to be able to feast on his entrails when I'm done with him."
"You'll have to get through me first before you touch any of them," Merlin retorted, sounding much braver than his quailing stomach felt.
Morgana's lips quirked. "But you can be beaten. After all, I see prison treated you well."
Merlin resisted the urge to tug his sleeves down further to cover the bandages on his wrists. He widened his stance, bracing himself for her next attack. "I won't let you hurt them."
"And still you defend them! How many of our kind have they persecuted? How much blood is on their blades?"
"I know how much," Merlin said quietly as they started to circle each other. "I cleaned it off. And I can tell you that the blood they spilt was that of your kind—people trying to destroy the kingdom. And even then, it's not nearly as much as the innocent blood, magic and non-magic alike, that you've shed in your lust for power. At least they tried to defend their kingdom, Morgana. What did you kill for?"
Morgana recoiled as if he'd slapped her. "You're worse than they are. You should burn with them! Torr windraes sweolothat!"
Merlin covered his eyes as the wind blasted around him, swirling into a whirlwind that soon caught fire. A fire tornado. Morgause had used one once too, Merlin remembered.
"Miere torr sweolothat!" he cried. Morgana smirked savagely at him as the fire tornado grew.
Merlin backed away as his burned skin cried in protest at the fire tornado's heat. His thoughts jumped around frantically. Morgana's spell must be more powerful than the spell Morgause had used. How to stop it?
"Aetstande!" he tried, but it only grew larger and blew closer to him.
"Abric Emrys," Morgana returned gleefully, "Spraede, milt hine!"
The tornado advanced, widening to a fiery inferno thick enough to obscure Morgana on the other side of it. Tendrils of flame reached out from it towards him.
A lesson from long ago sprung to Merlin's mind, of facing a creature of earth and water. Gaius had told him he needed fire and air to defeat it. This spell was made of fire and air. Perhaps water and earth…?
The fire tornado was nearly upon him, and his flesh was beginning to singe. Merlin was a bit short on water, but he had plenty of earth. "Eorthe ac stanas hiersumath me!" he shouted desperately.
A wall of earth shot up through the street between him and the fire tornado, and the relief from the heat was instant. Merlin shoved his hand forward, and the wall tumbled over on top of the fire tornado, smothering it.
"Eorthe, beswelge hie!" Merlin ordered.
The ground rippled and bubbled like water around Morgana. She shrieked as the earth swirled, surging up and over her, blocking her from Merlin's view. He heard her shouting spells, but the walls of cobblestone and earth kept rising, until they had enclosed her completely in a small, sealed cave.
Silence enveloped the courtyard except for the distant sound of the battling at the gate. Merlin exhaled and leaned on his knees, heart pounding as he tried to catch his breath.
The cave exploded, dirt and rocks shooting out like startled birds and taking chunks out of the surrounding houses and the castle. Merlin tripped as another stone grazed his head, sending him to the ground.
Morgana stood in the center of the rubble, breathing hard. Dust rose in a cloud around her, catching in the folds of her tattered dress and in her tangled curls. Anger and hatred radiated off her in waves.
"You thought you could trap me?" she screeched. "Me, a High Priestess?! I'll show you trapped! Ic bebiede treow foldan bosme astigath ge. Firgenholt hine wreoth! Becling aefre Emrys!"
Merlin struggled to get to his feet, but he couldn't. As Morgana chanted, vines burst through the cobblestones, binding his ankles and wrists to the ground. No, not vines, he realized with horror, roots. The roots kept growing, slithering further around his legs, his arms, his chest, his throat…
Merlin tried to croak out a spell, but he could barely get air. And still the roots kept pushing, tightening around him as they lifted him up higher and higher, hardening into the thick trunk of a tree around him. He thrashed, but his legs were already encased in solid wood, and the rest of him would soon be following.
Morgana's eyes were lit up with magic and delight as she watched him struggle. "Ic thin sawol beluce! Weorc untoworpenlic!"
The tree kept creeping higher, carrying Merlin with it to tower above the nearby houses.
"Onbrinde mec," he choked out. He felt his magic flail inside him, but his spell did nothing. "On…brinde…"
He cut off as the wood covered his mouth. He couldn't move; his limbs were all surrounded by wood as if the tree had formed a man-shaped mold around him. The wood crushed his chest as it continued to expand. He was no longer ascending, but the tree continued to rise as it grew around him, pressing against him at all sides. The wood covering his mouth spread to cover his nose, his ears, his eyes…
Darkness fell. Merlin was utterly trapped inside the tree, unable to move, with no light, no sound, and no air.
And then Merlin felt the tree shudder, and if he were able to draw air into his lungs, he might have screamed at the sudden heat scorching below him.
Morgana had set the tree on fire. He was going to burn alive.
A/N: In most of the original legends, Merlin meets his end by being trapped forever in a cave...or a tree.
And seriously, go read Idylls of the King. It's fabulous. Here's the original quote for this chapter's title:
Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm
Of woven paces and of waving hands,
And in the hollow oak he lay as dead,
And lost to life and use and name and fame.
-Tennyson's "Merlin and Vivien"
Scildan = shield/protect/defend
Astrice = I strike
Geealge = protect/defend
Torr windraes sweolothat = Tower, windstorm, burning hot!
Miere torr sweolothat = Disturb that burning hot column!
Aetstande = stand still/stay
Abric Emrys = Destroy Emrys
spraede = grow/expand/stretch forth
Milt hine! = Consume him by fire
Eorthe ac stanas hiersumath me! = Earth and stones, obey me!
Eorthe, beswelge hie! = Earth, swallow her!
Ic bebíede tréow foldan bosme astigaþ ge = I command a tree to rise from the womb of the earth.
Firgenholt hine wreoth! = Cover him with mountain wood.
Beclings aefre Emrys = Enclose/bind forever Emrys.
Ic thin sawol beluce! Weorc untoworpenlic! = I shut in your soul! Inviolable suffering!
Onbinde mec = Unbind me
Final part of battle (and possibly last chapter, still working out chapter breaks) on Friday.
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