Chapter 31: Like Lightening

The scream that filled the air shook the walls of Camelot. It lifted Arthur and Galahad off their feet and sent them slamming against the furniture, so that none of them saw their prisoner escape.

The scream rose like a storm and turned the early morning light into a swirling darkness. A wave of hopelessness and fear swept over the army as they were mounting their horses, preparing for the assault. High above, the powerful dragon-shades let out a long roar in unison, sensing the wrath of their master.

Morgause was dead, and the dragonlord LeNoir was upset. Very upset.

On top of a nearby hill, a man in glimmering armour stood alone. The time to send the men to battle had come, but the wizard hadn't. The sky was darkening. Where was Arthur now, the real king of Camelot? Was he lying somewhere inside the city walls, wounded or otherwise defeated? If neither Arthur nor Merlin had succeeded, what would become of King Lot's two thousand men? What could mortal men do against such darkness?

The lone knight pulled his sword and pointed it at the sky. A last morning ray caught the blade, making it shine like a star. And then the knight kicked his horse and rode head first into battle.

…

Merlin crashed against trees and hit the ground hard before he started rolling in the dirt over a good distance. When he finally stopped, it was with his back against a trunk. His fingers still clung to the staff, but the warmth of the wood had disappeared. He knew without really understanding how or why that the long flight was over.

The fall had shaken his whole body and it took him a few seconds to recover his senses. Was it the fall, or was it something else that had shaken him? It seemed as though he had heard a scream, right before the sharp plunge. In fact, it had been more than a scream: he was sure of it. Something terrible had just happened. Was it Arthur? Or Morgana? He didn't really have any way of knowing.

Suddenly the staff in his hand began to vibrate again and the clear crystal started to glow a pale shade of green. It seemed to be telling him to hurry.

With quick strides, Merlin ran to the highest ground, hoping to find his bearings. It didn't take him long to recognise where he was. He had travelled so often in these woods with Arthur. He was a short ride to Camelot; on foot it would take him considerably longer.

Having no other choice, he tucked the staff in his belt, swung it behind his back and began to run in a straight line towards his goal. As he sped over an open field, he saw the sky above his head darken. This storm was not natural; there was dark magic behind it. If only he could run faster, but his lungs were burning and his legs were hurting from strain.

A voice cried out in his mind. Merlin Brittanicus!

It was the use of his family name, more than the voice in his head, which made him slow down. And then, he saw it: a flash of brown running alongside him. He could hardly believe it.

"Nuada!" he cried out in wonder.

But there was no rider with the horse. The steed, a parting gift from Aria's Cradle, had joined him quite on its own. A saddle was on its back, a new one that Merlin had never seen before. It was by all standards a saddle fit for a king.

"I'm glad to see you, my friend," said Merlin as he caught the horse by the reins.

Indeed! It seems that you cannot go anywhere without me!

The words had burst into his mind quite naturally, and Merlin distinctively saw the horse wink at him.

So you do speak! Merlin thought in the same kind of speech.

It's about time you start listening! The horse laughed, shaking its mane.

Merlin took hold of the saddle and swung his leg over the horse's back. Then his foot hit something else as he sat: his grandfather's sword – Light of Brittanicus –had been carefully tied to Nuada's saddle.

You have Sir Gwaine to thank for the saddle, said the horse, and Sir Galahad for not forgetting the sword. They knew that I would find you if you were in need.

And so you have, Merlin replied. But now you must ride. We have to get ahead of this storm, if we can.

We will be like lightening, then, son of Brittanicus. Hang on tight and keep the path clear!

Merlin had taken Nuada on long rides many times before, but never with such a need for speed. Now they were riding as though their lives depended on it. Nuada jumped over streams and fallen trunks. If anything was in their path, Merlin would just utter a few words to remove the obstacle by making it roll, or sink into the ground, or just fly out of the way. As they rode, the darkness above their heads grew deeper and more threatening. A few times, Merlin thought that he could hear the thunder, but as they got closer he realised that those sounds were the roaring of the dragon-shades.

The closer they were getting to Camelot, the more people crossed their path. They were mostly families, with small children hurdled in carts, leaving the city. One little boy pointed at him and shouted the words "wizard" and "Merlin". Several cries of wonder followed after that, but always behind his back.

Merlin was only thinking of the task ahead, and he felt a jolt in his stomach when he thought of Kilgharrah.

Do you know anything about the ancient ways of the wizards? He asked Nuada.

Only that it's a power of the spirits, not of mortal men, said the horse. Then again, you are what you are. Perhaps this power is already in you, tied to your… ARROWS!

Merlin only had one or two seconds to react. With the palm of his hand stretched outwards, he cried out the words to make a shield. The light burst out in front of him. The arrows hit the magical barrier and disintegrated into ashes and dust. But another volley was sure to follow so he pulled Nuada's reins into another direction.

The attack has begun, said Merlin. We have to go around or we'll get caught in the cross-fire!

And how do you expect we'll get through that? The horse snapped back.

Sure enough, in front of them was a row of heavily armed mercenaries; Morgause and LeNoir's men, most likely. Those thugs seemed determined not to let them pass.

Without stopping, Merlin pulled his sword from his sheath. In a flash, he remembered his training in Aria's Cradle. His strong point was speed and agility. He could take these men, with or without magic. What was Galahad's usual advice? Don't ever – ever – let your horse take a hit.

Merlin blocked the first blade, then the second one on the other side, and then most of the following blows. A dagger thrown at him grazed his cheek but Nuada quickly reacted with a rear-hooves kick that knocked down at least two attackers. Merlin's sword slashed mercilessly, but still he felt trapped because he could no longer ride. The sky was darkening; time was against him.

Suddenly, he felt a pull on his back: one of the thugs had taken hold of the staff and was dragging Merlin off the horse along with it. There was no other option: with a spell, Merlin made the leather of his belt brake. Both he and the staff tumbled to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw a mercenary aim a blade straight at Nuada. Without hesitation, he cried "Baerne!" and a streak of bright flames burst in front of the attacker, making him squeal in pain. The other thugs took a few steps back.

Nuada was stomping the ground so as to catch Merlin's attention. As he wheeled around, the wizard saw that a particularly large thug had taken his staff. He was now twirling the wood in his hand and eyeing the crystal with great interest. But as soon as Merlin took a step closer, he pulled a long sword splashed with blood.

"What does this do, I wonder?" muttered the thug, eyeing the staff with great interest. "I always wanted to do magic myself. Now I could be the master. What do you say, sorcerer? Should I give it a go?"

Merlin was rooted on the spot. He didn't know how the magical tool would react to another's command; he had been entrusted that staff only a few hours ago.

The mercenary smirked maliciously, showing brown and yellow teeth. He raised the staff a little higher. "What's that word you just said? Baerne!"

The immediate effect of the spell was like a bolt of lightening. A sharp burst of yellow light shot into the sky. Then the tip of the staff began to blast streaks of fire everywhere and uncontrollably. The sword fell to the ground as the mercenary, laughing like a mad man, had to hold the staff with both hands. Nuada neighed in panic and kicked off to get out of the way. But the horse did not get far: a wall of fire was blocking every escape path.

Merlin had thrown himself out of the way and now he was struggling to get up in the thick smoke, cursing under his breath. How could he have let this happened? This was his staff. He was the wizard.

Well, do something about it, then! Nuada said in his head. You are a master of the elements, are you not?

Rain! Merlin thought instantly. He cried "Tidrenas!" and a downpour began within seconds.

The wizard jumped to his feet and stepped closer to the mercenary. On his face, he could read panic as the staff was spinning out of control and spitting flames that were turning fast into thick dark smoke. The fires were dying all around them, but the staff was continuing to create chaos. Perhaps, thought Merlin, it is reading what's in this man's soul…

The mercenary seemed to be thorn between madness and terror. He was screaming and laughing, but his fingers would not let go of the staff. The wood was now dripping with water, as were Merlin's hair…

Then the solution hit him. He stretched his hand in front of him and the words came naturally. Water was his ally, and he was turning it into ice. He felt the cold on his forehead, saw the frost at his feet, and the skin of the man in front of him became white with cold. All was frozen, even the sounds. Merlin could see his breath coming out in small clouds. His hand was almost on the staff.

"What arrrrre you?" said the mercenary, with his teeth chattering and a look of awe on his face.

"A wizard," said Merlin.

As soon as his fingers were on the staff, he felt the change in the weapon. The last flame that blasted from the tip of the wood was not deadly fire but a pure ray of light.

The mercenary dropped on his knees and began to beg for mercy.

"I don't have time for this," Merlin cut him off. "Where's LeNoir?"

Defeated, the mercenary had no choice but to answer. "You're too late. The sun is up. Morgana Pendragon is now queen."

Merlin felt his heart sink. Morgana. This couldn't be. It wasn't the whole story. There was something else. Morgause was dead. He had felt LeNoir's anger. Somehow, their plan had gone wrong, which could only mean that Morgana was in trouble.

"We have to hurry!" he cried out to Nuada.

The horse was beside him within seconds and they began to ride again at full speed. This time, Merlin kept the staff in his hand, using it as a beacon of light in front of him. The rain had not stopped and thunder was clapping above.

When they arrived at the scene of the battle, Merlin immediately realised how terribly late he was. The dragon-shades were making long sweeps above the men's heads, cutting and biting all within their path, igniting the trees and fields with bursts of fire. The rain was the only thing keeping the fires from spreading to the forests and hills. He suspected many farmers to be hiding there; not everyone was made for war.

King Lot's men were not all soldiers either, but they were working hard to do as much damage as possible. They were wielding swords, spears and axes with a desperate will to survive. Merlin could also spot several red cloaks leading assaults on different sides of the castle, trying to break through the barrier of the dragons' protection.

Merlin led his horse through the flames and fighting men, looking for a sign of LeNoir. However, he knew that he would not find him out here. Camelot was a fortress. It would be stupid for him to leave the citadel while his dragons were doing such a great job of keeping the enemy out.

We'll have to find a way into the citadel, he said to Nuada.

Well, you can't expect me to go galloping into some dark secret passages.

Of course not, thought Merlin. But he doubted that the passages were still accessible with that deep moat around Camelot; a moat filled with water. If he had known, he would have never done it…

"MERLIN!"

The sorcerer wheeled around just in time to avoid a spear thrown in his direction. The sharp end caught Nuada in the rear and the horse neighed in pain. Merlin raised his free hand and sent the attacker flying into a heap of rock. Then Nuada began to stump the ground feverishly and Merlin had no choice but to jump off the saddle.

Three thugs were on him as soon as he was on his feet, slashing at him with daggers and swords. Merlin sent the first one sliding into the mud with a burst of magic. The second one dropped his blade when it turned red hot, but Morgause's mercenary immediately pulled another weapon from his belt. The sorcerer dodged one blow with his staff, sending a shard of wood flying off, and then the attacker's hand was cut clean off by another sword that Merlin had not seen; a sword that was instantly followed by a mane of wavy brown hair.

"Gwaine!" cried Merlin, relieved to see his friend.

The third thug was about to launch at them when he was cut off by another sword, this time held by Sir Elyan. The mercenary did not last long and he rapidly fell to the ground, motionless.

"About time you showed up," said Elyan, clapping Merlin on the shoulder.

"You're 'you' again!" burst out Merlin. "You're not in disguise. What happened?"

Elyan merely shrugged. "The stone was cut clean off its chain after two minutes of battle. It fell in the mud. It's lost forever now. Anyway, I much prefer being 'me'. Being King Arthur is much harder than it looks."

"I won't tell him you said that," said Merlin with a smile. "Where is he?"

Seeing Merlin's puzzled expression, Gwaine quickly explained: "He went with Leon and Galahad to look for a way into the citadel. We haven't seen them since."

"I have to get inside too," said Merlin, eyeing the crystal on his staff. It was shining a pale green light. "I have to find LeNoir."

"We can't get near the walls," Elyan said darkly. "Those dragons are impossible to get pass."

But a plan was already forming in Merlin's mind. The staff had carried him this far. If he could make it fly again, he would enter the castle from above, not below.

They'll roast you and your stick before you reach the ramparts, said Nuada in his head.

I have to give it a try, replied Merlin. Will you be all right? Are you hurt terribly?

Only my pride, said the horse, neighing and shaking its mane.

"So what's your plan, wizard?" said Gwaine, leaning nonchalantly on his sword.

"I only need to get close enough," said Merlin, trying to sound confident.

He took the lead at once and Elyan and Gwaine followed him like bodyguards. It was a long way to get to the castle and Merlin was glad to have both knights at his side. Elyan and Gwaine's swords dealt with any opposition swiftly, while Merlin's magic was precise and strong. He had never allowed himself to use his powers so openly and so freely, and he could see surprise as well as dread in the face of his attackers. To be feared was as new to him as being identified as a wizard. Now he knew that his days as King Arthur's witless servant were over.

"Do you think that staff of yours can blast through a wall?" Elyan cried out on top of the noise of the battle.

"I only need to get to the front gate," Merlin replied, sure of himself.

Elyan's face changed at once. "You can't get in through the front gate. That's mad!"

"I didn't say 'through'," Merlin said slyly. In his mind, he was visualising a portion of the ramparts that he knew well. He had often stood there with Arthur, overlooking the main road. It was the perfect spot from which to enter the citadel.

"What other way is there?" he heard Elyan muttered.

Gwaine's reply said it all. "He's a wizard. Expect anything."

Now that he had made himself so spectacularly known, the path before them was getting clearer, free of any thugs. Only the dragon-shades dared to oppose Merlin's powerful magic, but somehow they were not too keen to come close to the staff. The crystal was casting a strong light, blinding the dragons and causing them to shriek in anger.

They soon arrive to the familiar gate, except that there was now a wide trench filled with dark water in front of it. The moat.

"There you go," said Elyan. "We cannot get pass that."

But Merlin was already muttering words of magic under his breath, relaying his instructions to the staff. The magical weapon was vibrating softly. Merlin had figured out how to control it: the key was to show it what was truly in his heart. And his heart's desire wasn't to destroy LeNoir: it was to find and save Morgana.

"Is there anything you need us to do, wizard?" Gwaine whispered to Merlin's ear.

"Find Arthur. He must be in some kind of trouble," Merlin said back.

He was ready. All that he needed to do now was to raise the staff, hang on tight, and then…

"BEHOLD, PEOPLE OF CAMELOT! SEE WHAT YOUR FOOLISHNESS HAS DONE!"

Merlin had to take a few steps back to see clearly the speaker. LeNoir. He was standing on the highest rampart, the one that Merlin was aiming for. And in his arms was the lifeless body of a woman. She was dressed in red velvet. Her black wavy hair flowing in the wind. Her skin was white as snow. As white as death.

Morgana.