Chapter 9: The Darkest Hour

If he had been riding any faster, he would have been flying.

I could really use some wings right now, Merlin thought desperately as he wheeled his horse around a particularly large tree.

With each one of Nuada's strides, he could feel Kilgharrah's presence increasingly. It was as though someone was trying to squeeze a dark cloud into his mind. That darkness was blocking out everything else. Even his dragonlord voice, the one that was hidden deep within his soul, seemed out of reach. As he rode, he kept trying to use it, but with no success.

Come on, old friend, he said into his head. Tell me what's happening.

The only reply that he got was a vision of burning flames and a sharp pain in his skull. His horse whinnied nervously. Merlin shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and then he kicked harder.

"Almost there," he said encouragingly to the stallion.

If he could just get on top of that hill, he would get a good view of the city and then…

Suddenly, Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He could only stare in horror at the scene before him.

The city walls and the towers of Camelot were still standing. They were not burning like in his dreams. Yet this fate was – if possible – worst. Dark creatures, giant bats with wings that looked like they were made out of smoke, were flying in circle on top of the citadel. They were at least seven of them. Some were as large as Kilgharrah, and some were actually bigger. Each beating of their wings was followed by a twirl of smoke. It was blocking out the light of the fading day, making the sky blacker and blacker. With their giant claws, the monsters were making sweeps into the fields, throwing off the people that were running from the city: picking them up and dropping them like cattle. As their ferocious roars filled the air, Merlin could only draw one conclusion.

Dragons.

But these were no ordinary dragons. They were creatures of nightmare. They looked part flesh and part smoke. Their scales had no colors like Kilgharrah. Their skeletal body seemed to be covered by a thin black skin.

As he stood on top of the hill, one of the creatures wheeled its head and Merlin caught a glimpse of its eyes: they were burning red.

Panic. Sheer panic and overwhelming dread were invading Merlin's mind now. He felt so numb that he could hardly move. The darkness was not only in the sky, it was getting inside of him as well.

Kilgharrah, where are you?

As though answering his thoughts, an enormous set of wings swooped just over the hill, grazing the top of the trees at the foot of the hill. Then with a familiar whooshing of wings and thumping of four powerful legs, the Great Dragon landed in the shadow of the trees.

Turning away from the horrible scene of the dark creatures flying over Camelot, Merlin jumped off his horse and ran down the hill where Kilgharrah was waiting.

"Where have you been?" Merlin asked without further ado.

The dragon lowered its long neck. "We do not have much time, young warlock. I have done my best to keep you hidden from this new dragonlord, but now I fear that he can feel your presence as much as I can."

"The Dragonlord Shade," replied Merlin.

The Great Dragon nodded.

"He came to me in a dream," continued the young sorcerer. "He wanted me to join him. He's not Julius Borden anymore, isn't he? He's someone else. Someone from the House of LeNoir."

The Great Dragon's head swooped even lower so that the creature of magic and the sorcerer were facing each other.

"René LeNoir," acknowledged the dragon. "It is the name that will bring Camelot to its knees and destroy the dream of Albion."

Merlin could only stare back at the Great Dragon, feeling the dread like a weight on his chest. Was this it then? Had all his efforts been for nothing? How could this be the end?

"I am sorry, young warlock," said the dragon in a low voice. "Even I cannot resist the will of a LeNoir. They were always the most powerful of the dragonlords."

The dragonlords' darkest hour. The words spoken three years ago by Galahad, far away in Aria's Cradle, seemed to hold a whole new meaning. A generation ago, Merlin's grand-father, Lord Brittanicus, had forsaken a sacred rule in order to stop his enemy. The Houses had united to destroy LeNoir and his army of dragons. Now the same foe had returned. And the only person remaining to stand in his way was a lowly servant with some magical skills. The last of the dragonlords. It was the darkest hour indeed.

They were doomed.

He shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the idea. He couldn't give up. Not for Albion. Not for Arthur.

"But… where have you been for the last three years? Just a few days ago, there was no LeNoir. Why didn't you answer my call?"

The Great Dragon let out a low growl. "When we flew away with Morgana, just before you went to Aria's Cradle, the witch Morgause followed us. It wasn't long after our parting that she found my lair and tied me up in chains, like Uther had once done before her. Then she used her dark magic to keep me restrained. She only let me out when she knew that LeNoir could control me. I have no choice but to obey his will."

Several loud roars filled the air and Kilgharrah's whole body tensed, having probably just received a command.

"What about these other creatures?" cried out Merlin, hoping to get just a few more answers, "What are they?"

"Dragon Shades," said the dragon in a low rumbling voice, as though he was speaking about something forbidden. "Dragons who died a thousand years ago. Dark magic brought them back to do LeNoir's biding. They are merely shadows of their former selves now."

There was such sadness in the Great Dragon's tone. For Merlin, it was just another impossible task before him.

"Then they cannot be killed," he said under his breath.

The Great Dragon stretched out its great wings. "Nor should you try, young warlock," he said compellingly. "Even with a sword forged in a dragon's breath. Such wraiths are gatekeepers of the Other World. Destroying them will only bring other evil creatures into this world."

Merlin's mind burst with images of dark shadows flying over all the land and blocking the entire sky, even the sun. He took his head in his hands and pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, trying to force the vision out. What was this dark cloud forcing its way into his mind? Was this LeNoir's influence?

Wake up, Merlin, he told himself. You're stronger than this.

"What must I do?" he cried out shakily. "I can't just give up! All those people! Is there a way to defeat LeNoir? Any way at all?"

He knew very well what he was implying.

"Dark magic is a dangerous path, Merlin," said the dragon elusively. "That is not what you are."

"I'm a dragonlord like my father…"

"No!" bellowed Kilgharrah so forcefully then he rose from the ground. "If you seek to destroy, young warlock, you will fail. Do not take the easy path. It is against your nature. Do not forget who and what you are."

Kilgharrah's body tensed again and he let out a long and painful howl. The long wings spread out, covering the young sorcerer in their shadow. The powerful head turned to the sky above and then back at Merlin. The black eyes were so full of sorrow, and also they seemed to be asking for something. Was it forgiveness?

Seeing the Great Dragon endure so much grief was almost unbearable for the dragonlord.

"This is not your fault! This is Morgause's doing. I will find out how she did it and I will stop her. I promise you."

"Merlin…" the Great Dragon began to say.

But he couldn't finish his sentence. Something that Merlin could not see was putting strain on the Great Dragon.

"You will be free again," said Merlin, clenching his fists. "I swear it."

Kilgharrah let out a long growl. "I cannot resist him any longer. Run."

Merlin took a step back. "What?"

"RUN!"

The cry turned into a roar. The blast of fire came directly at Merlin. All he could do to avoid it was to throw himself on the ground and roll under the flames. When he sprung back to his feet, he saw Kilgharrah rising above his head and the powerful jaw opening again.

"Gescildan!" he cried with all of the strength he could muster.

The magical shield appeared in front of him just as the flames erupted from the creature's mouth. He felt the heat under his palms and on his brow. He had never conjured such a powerful shield before, and yet it wasn't enough to keep the Great Dragon at bay. Kilgharrah was charging again and again. Soon, the entire hill would be on fire, and from there, it would spill over towards the fields just outside of Camelot, killing everything and everyone in its path.

The Great Dragon's voice filled the air. "Forgive me, young warlock!" Then a gust of wind sent a wave of flames in Merlin's direction. His feet moved backwards on the muddy ground. Above his head, he saw the outline of the powerful creature flying back towards the city. Drops of sweat mixed with tears obscured his sight. His hands were shaking. His strength was wavering. He couldn't maintain the shield any longer. Everything was going to burn. Himself included.

"MERLIN!"

Whoever was behind him had appeared in a flash. Before he could even see a face, something heavy fell on his back. A cloak. A cloak soaked in water.

The coolness was a blessing. So were the strong hands that stirred him through the flames. Up the hill they went, where the air was more breathable. A new sound filled his ears: They were the panicked screams of men and women of Camelot fleeing the city.

As he dropped the cloak and stared at the scene, Merlin knew that his task was not over yet. The people of Camelot had escaped one nightmare; now they were running into another.

And he was the only one who could stop it.

After all, he was the only one with magic.