Chapter 35

[Camelot—Almost an entire day later]

Morgana stalked about the royal apartments while trying to deal with her anger. She'd stomached the miserable nobles and their serfs during the hearings. She'd canceled the council meeting that day to put those overblown windbags in their place. She'd received no report from Meleagant concerning his men's ride for the eastern provinces.

Worst of all, her so-called allies were turning against her.

Meleagant chafed at being at Camelot. While he knew they needed each other's cooperation to finish their coup, he wanted to return to Cawdor and his own throne. Consequently he took a few liberties…a few too many for Morgana's liking…with the maids around the castle. Still, as long as he somewhat kept paying his keep, she'd allow it.

If he wants to leave, fine. I should let him go. His knights have trained my new forces. If only Arthur were dead. Her mind went back to Radegund and the latter's ingratitude. To think she considers herself ABOVE me? I gave her Arthur and that victory at Nemeth! I exposed that treacherous maid, Elena! And she talks like that? SHE SHOULD BE GRATEFUL! Her eyes glowed and she waved her hand.

In her anger, a dark fire blast had scorched the wall.

"ARGH!" She seethed over the mounting failures. "Everything comes apart and…." She stopped and looked around for a few heartbeats. She felt a disturbance outside the castle…coming from the woods. She chuckled darkly. "It seems the game's a foot, is it not?" She willed up a mist portal and glanced into it.

Within it, she saw Camelot's true knights sleeping in the woods not far from the border. She also witnessed Gawain keeping watch. She smirked. "The fool thinks he'll see me coming, does he?" She laughed sarcastically. Her eyes glowed again. "There now. The others will not be of assistance." She drew her cloak around herself and teleported herself away from there.

[Woods on the Fringes of Camelot]

Gawain sat under a tree; his eyes scanning the forest for any potential signs of trouble. There, in the predawn sylvan landscape, he imagined that danger lurked just around every corner.

Then again, he now understood that the real danger lay within their numbers…

Bloody buggers! He leaned his head back against the tree while staring up at the stars above. It isn't fair! Why is it Merlin's fault that he's born with magic? And why is it Mithian's fault that she's a witch? He frowned and glared toward his sleeping comrades just off to his left. We're paying the price for that way of thinking all right. He sighed while considering a small bowl of beef stew off to his left….

…all but one spoonful uneaten because it was frankly inedible….

…definitely not up to Merlin's standard….

And the dishwashing duties? And the organizing of the packing?

…bet the knights missed Merlin now (even if they wouldn't admit it)….

"More to a book than the damn cover, right?" He shook his head while marveling (again) at how Merlin pulled off his own brand of subterfuge. He'd save the day and then go back to serving us without taking a bit of credit. He chuckled to himself over the memory of the warlock's kiss with Mithian. Well maybe he did that once. He bloody saved his girl. He deserves *something* for that! He forced himself to stand and stretched before walking his hourly circuit around the campsite inspecting the dark for signs of trouble.

Only the first color of light in the eastern sky revealed itself to him at that point.

"Another day," he mused to himself. As he'd washed out the dishes (save his own) on the previous evening, he'd considered reheating the water at that point and using it as a wake up call for his fellow knights so to speak. Despite knowing it would be a merited maneuver, he really didn't feel like taking a beating from them in retaliation. "Prats all around." He continued his circuit around the camp's other half.

His hair stood on end though for some reason. A static energy charged the air.

He drew his sword. "Hey! Everyone up! Enough beauty sleep already!" He nudged Perceval, then Elyan and Leon without any results. "What? All right! Up already!" He shook the other knights. Then he even kicked Tancred in the leg. "You all sleepin' in? Bugger!"

Sleep is so blessed. Is it not, Gawain?

His ears crinkled at the sarcastic rejoinder. He realized immediately what had happened. "Lady Morgana! It's too early for games ain't it? Come on! Out already!" He held his blade at the ready in case of attack.

"I'd say the same of you yesterday, Gawain," she replied with a sarcastic sweetness as she stepped out from behind a tree. "Galvanting around my castle in the predawn hours before invading Nemeth."

"It's yours for the moment, Lady, until we get Arthur back there. Then we'll see," he noted firmly.

She shrugged. "Big words considering you're all alone. I've put the other knights under a sleeping spell. They won't awaken even if you dropped a boulder on them. I figured you might have some information that I need."

"Not giving you anything," he insisted firmly. "I know about them slimey things you use."

She snorted. "Fortunately I do not need such measures. I just need to know where Emrys…excuse me, Merlin…, Sir Mordred and Mithian are. You can tell me that? I know you can."

"Even if I knew, which I don't, you could kiss my boots, Your Highness," he declined rather firmly.

"Such rude thoughts. And here I thought a lady's man such as yourself would know not to talk with a woman in that way. You might make me angry," she countered allowing her eyes to flash golden for a brief heartbeat to emphasize the point.

"If you were a lady, I wouldn't. Since you are what you are, well…" He watched the cloaked usurper carefully.

"I am what? A witch? Certainly you would not have judged me such!" she groused with a frown.

"Judge ya because of your magic? Nope. Merlin and that Princess are worth a thousand of you and that's both in quality and as sorcerers. While I'm on the point, Lady, you realize you're feeding their hate with your bloody actions?" He motioned with his head toward the entranced knights. "Uther's dead. Let it go."

"I have my throne, you Cur! You trespass on my land and you tell me to let it go?" Her eyes flashed angrily. "Dh'èireas!"

Gawain floated about ten feet off of the ground. "You're making my point, Sister!"

"So I am." She added another shrug for emphasis. "Deal with it." She removed the boot from his left foot and considered it for a second.

"Like the smell? I aged it just for you," he cracked.

She rolled her eyes while recalling why she so loved to torture this particular knight during their previous encounters. She had always wondered how much it would take to break him. It was their particular game of cat and mouse….

Now though she had the mouse firmly in her trap and had no problem frying it to make her point….

"Maybe something to clean it then?" She grabbed onto the foot as her eyes glowed again. "Teas!"

He grimaced as her hand became as hot as a poker in a blacksmith's forge. He glared pointedly at her but would not utter a syllable.

"Now talk. Their location. Now," she reiterated darkly.

"Don't….know…" He spat on her.

She wiped the sizzling spittle from her cheek. "You are impertinent, aren't you?"

"Always…the cheeky one. You aren't worth…it…Sweets." He grinned at her in defiance.

"I can almost respect that bravado, Gawain. Almost. Oh well…." She sighed melodramatically before grabbing his foot again. "Sing for me then if nothing else!" Her eyes glowed again.

He screamed as the heat seared his foot again.

"The location."

"Tomb's…that way…" He motioned toward the border and her former prison. "Figured you'd know where that…was by now."

Her face twisted darkly. "Oh I know where that is, you miserable worm!" She flung him against a nearby tree knocking him unconscious. Then she allowed him to slump to the ground. "Pathetic dog!" Her hands glowed as she towered over him….