Been so long! But I finally figured this chapter out. I have had the ending in mind almost since I started writing this story, but it has been a bit of a bitch to hammer out and refine. I can't say that this is the final draft, but hey... I got it done. :)
First off... I want to thank some folks over at the Heart of Camelot website for all the help they supplied for this chapter. IcarusLSU, Moonfox, Aerist, and Heatherlly and everyone else who chipped in were awesome in helping me refine a fight that I thought I had choreographed. You all are awesome and this chapter would not be here if not for you all. XD
Reviewer Responses:
Emrys Is Merlin: Lol I love Tangled. And I needed a healing spell so... voilla! Thanks so much!
MegamiTenshiHime: Oh he will. :3
GinaRogers & shell22: Thanks much! :D
TheWhispersWhichFlowGrey: Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoy the premise! And yeah, there is something so badass about Merlin when he is like this. His strength has never been in his body, but never has it been more apparent than now.
LaRieNGuBleR: Sorry. Probably left you hanging a little too long. XD Actually, I learn more about Old English every time I write a spell. I will probably at some point go back and retranslate some of my older spells... fix the tenses and word order and such. I'm glad my learning shows!
1983Sarah: Oh I've been waiting to write this fight. XD
Lianarias: So sorry it took so long, but here it is!
Aerist: We make them suffer so we can watch them rise higher!
blackcallalily: :3
SpangleyPony: Thank you! That's fine. XD I certainly remember your name either way!
CaptainOzone: Eee! Thanks! The idea of putting Merlin in the sword and the recovery after that just lends itself so well to badassery. It basically writes itself. XD I love writing action scenes and I can only hope that the climax here doesn't disappoint!
Ms. Fairweather: Oh my! That must've taken a while! Hope you like!
sherlocked: Thanks! Here you go!
RiddleWrappedInAnEnigma: Should be this chapter... and perhaps one or two more. It depends on how long I want to make the last chapter.
She who reads: *Blush!* Thanks! And I went to a private school. We had to take Bible classes, but they offered Ancient Greek as an alternative to work on translating the original Greek of the New Testament.
SugarSugarSweetSweet: Here 'tis!
Once the bones in his hand were knitted whole again, Arthur didn't wait for Merlin to finish talking, or even for his okay. His thoughts with his people huddled in the vaults, he launched himself to his feet, scooped up Excalibur, and took the stone steps two at a time until he was in the castle's corridors. The king charged to his right with purpose, though if he was honest with himself, he had no idea where he was going. His feet moved as though they were completely in control and by the time Arthur reached the uprooted courtyard, he had tracked the purposeful feeling to a tingle in his right hand. He stared at Excalibur and it shimmered proudly in the light of the torches.
A trickle of golden magic alighted into the hole in his mind where Merlin had been nestled. He felt it earlier when the weapon vaulted from the depths of the cave into his hand. Something akin to a burst of happiness had hit him, as though the sword were one of his hounds, staring at him with her tongue lolling from her mouth in glee simply from being at the king's side. It hummed in his arm, and though he couldn't quite visualize it, he was now sure there was a golden thread leading through the city toward the enemy he sought.
He stood on the far side of the courtyard, in a narrow hall to the right of where the mountain of courtyard stone blocked off the entrance to the castle. He fought down the urge to vomit as the smell of dead horse flesh from the nearby stables assaulted his nose. Anyone he managed to spot among the streets gave the area a wide berth, placing hand and cloth over their noses as they did. He glanced this way and that, spotting a few Saxons and mercenaries looting the market and resisting the urge to hurry and defend the wares of his citizens.
Seeing the main eastern road blocked by stone, he ducked into a narrow alley between two houses. He stopped in his tracks at the sight of movement to his left and jumped to the side to avoid a Saxon sword that impaled itself in the dirt at his feet. He looked up to see a group of five or six men surrounding the largest of his knights. There were at least five bodies scattered around the small clearing (that had once been a fruit-salesman's stall). Those remaining seemed hesitant to attack, even more so when Arthur took up a position at his side.
His posture emboldened, Percival smiled at the presence of his king. "Sire!" he cried, trying to hide how out of breath he was. "Merlin fixed your hand, did he?"
As if to prove the strength of his newly healed hand, Arthur twirled his sword and deepened his stance. "Where's Morgana?" he demanded, more harshly than he intended.
"I thought she was heading for the Eastern gate, but she started going toward the tower," he said, jabbing his sword in the direction of the tallest tower Camelot possessed.
"Ligfyr!"
The cry of a druid- mingled among the Saxons- drew the two's attention to their back as an explosion of flame forced them both to take a few steps forward and toward the crowd of enemies. By the time Arthur's attention turned back to his front, a Saxon was bearing down on him, his sword poised and glowing with an unnatural light.
The king had no time for such distractions.
Arthur raised his sword to deflect the blow and the thrum of Excalibur's magic raged through his arm. As the blades clashed, the enemy's sword shattered like it was made of glass. With a slash that opened the man's torso from shoulder to hip, the man was felled.
Seeing an enchanted blade yield so easily to Arthur's sword, the Saxons surrounding them seemed to take a moment to contemplate how they would deal with him. Percival launched himself into their midst at the opening their hesitance provided, locking blades with a barely-readied Saxon. The druid standing toward the eastern-most alley held out a hand.
At a silent prompt from the sword, Arthur gripped Excalibur tight and jabbed his fist toward the man around which magic was gathering. Power hammered away from his hand and the druid was sent flying into a wall with a sickening crack. Percival appeared again at his side, his back to Arthur's left shoulder and his sword aimed at the enemies remaining in the clearing.
"Go, Sire!" he called.
Arthur nodded and he shot toward the now unguarded Eastern alley. A few men hurried to stop him, but Percival intervened, blocking one man's downward swing with his sword and then wrenching the weapon from his much-smaller hand and kicking him to the ground. He took the sword and tossed it with all his might at another mercenary throwing himself at the king. The blade impaled the man's torso with enough force to knock him several feet back and into the nearest building. The disarmed Saxon leaped back to his feet, planting his shoulder into Percival's sternum. The Bear coughed and stumbled back half a step, but then wrapped his sword laden arm around the man's far shoulder, curled his free arm around the Saxon's neck and gave a quick jerk. A crack and a twitch later, the man lay dead on the ground.
As Percival fought off the mercenaries and Saxons, Arthur closed on the Eastern alley. Movement in his peripheral vision drew his gaze to his left where a druid was running alongside him and a humming in his right arm told him that magic was gathering. He tossed Excalibur into his left hand and put the point to the ground. He swung the blade in an arch from the ground to the sky and from the earth erupted a ball of pure power, uprooting dirt and mud as it went.
"Ligfyr!" shouted the druid. Flames erupted at Arthur's front.
The ball of magic exploded at the druid's feet and shot up his body in long thin rivulets, like whips of fire. He screeched and fell to the earth. A wave of Arthur's free hand doused the fire blocking the alley and he charged past.
He had not gotten ten feet away from the clearing where Percival was still fending off the enemy when Arthur ducked his head and slammed his free hand over his ears. A deafening roar hammered down from above and behind him and even from where he was he could feel the heat of dragon's fire on the back of his neck. Wind whipped through the alley, physically pushing him forward, even laden as he was with armor and chain mail. Excalibur gleamed and hummed in recognition and a strange confidence and peace overcame his mind for a brief moment.
He smirked up at the sky. "Better late than never, I suppose," he said.
He pushed himself forward as a second and a third roar split the air and a small amount of pity dribbled into his subconscious for his knights trapped in the citadel; hearing the cry of a dragon in their city, and being unable to do anything about it.
The Eastern tower loomed over him as he came upon the clearing at its base that served as a small market square, and he skidded to a stop.
Backed by at least twenty men- possibly more since he couldn't see over them and into the roads leading away from the clearing- Morgana stood with her back to the Eastern tower's entrance. She smiled coldly at him, her green eyes flashing viciously.
"Magic to protect your city... magic in your court... magic within your sword... you shame those of us with the gift and the father you so idolized, Arthur," she hissed.
A rage bubbled in his chest and when he spoke, it came out a raw shout. "I don't care about the magic!" And it rang true in his heart. No matter how much his father had tried to nurture within him a hate for magic through his life, the only hatred he held toward magic users was the same as that which he harbored toward anyone who brought suffering with a sword. Even his anger at Merlin had not been for the magic he was born with; it was for the lies he had told during his service and the trust he failed to put in his master... his friend. Now that he thought about it... had he ever considered magic to be evil as his father had done?
"I don't care about pleasing my father, Morgana!" he growled, taking a step back and dropping into a fighting stance, his sword held across his chest. "I care about my people... my kingdom. Magic or no, you will not destroy what I hold dear!"
Morgana's smile vanished, and hatred twisted her face into a sneer. "This kingdom that you hold so dear is filth, Brother!" she spat. "Without magic, this land will never be what it was meant to be!"
A smirk curled Arthur's lips. "You're right about that," he said, looking down at Excalibur. Merlin's eyes were gone from the blade, but his magic hummed through him, filling him with strength. "But not your magic."
Magic shot through his arms and he thrust the blade into the ground and there was a deep rumbling in his chest. A shock wave of magic tore into the ground at his front and sides, rolling through the clearing and gaining size and power as it went. Mercenaries, Saxons, and druids were lifted up and tossed about like limp rags in the wake of Excalibur's power. Morgana clapped her hands together at her front and the wave split to either side of her. She stepped through unharmed. She growled and clenched her fists, the ground directly beneath them curling toward her fingers in response. With a wide sweeping motion of her arms and a flash of gold in her eyes, the earth curled up and toward Arthur. The king jumped to the side as the earth crushed down on where he had been standing and the ground yielded under the pressure, creating a small crater. Another wave of earth raced toward Arthur's new position and the king dove toward the witch this time, wincing as the ground where her attack had landed crumbled under the strength of the blow. He forced his legs beneath him and charged at her, but was stopped halfway when a large Saxon plowed into his side and sent him skidding away from Morgana. He rolled and got back to his feet just in time to block a swing from a mercenary at his left. A Saxon at his right aimed a slash at his middle as though he intended to sever his torso, and Arthur did his best to leap to the side. Pain exploded in his side as the sword caught his chain mail and he went spinning to the ground. He landed hard on his belly and before he could gather himself to get up again, a booted foot slammed onto the hand that held Excalibur.
Agony shot through his newly repaired hand as though it were being once again crushed in the grip of the rock. He grit his teeth and poured his breath into a growl that he had to fight to keep from turning to a scream. He craned his neck to glare at Morgana as she pushed her way through the crowd of men that had gathered around the fallen king.
"You do not deserve that sword or your throne," she said, sneering. "I will relieve you of both."
"Cnéowaþ unc inwitníþas hundene!"
As the cry went out, the mercenary whose boot pressed down on Arthur's hand was sent flying backward. The rest of those around him suddenly yelped as control of their bodies was wrenched from them. The men around him wavered and shook as they fought the magic that pressed on them but were forced to their knees. Morgana's eyes shot up and struggled a little under the pressure of the spell, but her eyes flashed and she was affected no longer.
Arthur rolled to his feet and gripped Excalibur with his left hand, bringing his right one against his belly as pain continued to tear through it. He looked to the main Eastern road and his blue eyes widened at the sight of Merlin propping himself against a nearby building, sweat on his forehead and fatigue in his eyes. The warlock's eyes were glued to the witch.
"I thought you healed it," Arthur couldn't help but grumble, gently massaging his injured hand with his healthy one.
Merlin's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You didn't let me warn you... the bones and muscles have healed, but it's still going to hurt for a while."
Had there not been a score of men currently held in place with nothing but Merlin's will alone, Arthur might have made another crack at whether or not his servant was worthy of the reverence with which the druids viewed him in reference to his aching hand, but as it was he was having difficulty suppressing his awe.
Morgana's entire body stood taught as a bowstring as she eyed the king and his warlock. After a second her eyes landed on Merlin and remained there, magic building around her bubbling with hatred and malice. Arthur took a few steps to his side- shaking out his hand and forcing it to curl around Excalibur's hilt again- taking up a position between the witch and the warlock.
"Move, Arthur," said Merlin with more strength than he looked capable of mustering.
Not taking his eyes off of Morgana, Arthur chuckled lightly. "You look like you're about to fall over, Merlin. I'll stay right here."
"Cnéowaþ, mín bealdor." The spell was unlike any other that Arthur had heard. It was gentle, and spoken almost like a request but with a tone of resignation.
The king was suddenly heavy, and his legs gave out beneath him. It was as though the ground were pulling him down and he found himself on one knee, Excalibur at his side in one hand and his left bent and resting on his bent leg.
"Merlin..." he growled, attempting to turn his head to look at his servant. His neck wouldn't budge. "Merlin, what are you doing?" He could hear the warlock's unsteady steps drawing up at his side until he could see the red of his tunic in his peripheral vision.
"Excalibur is powerful," said Merlin, passing the king and taking a few steps toward Morgana. "But not powerful enough."
Once again, the invisible water skin around Merlin's magic- the barrier that kept him safe in a land of men that sought his head simply for what he was... the thing that separated Arthur's clumsy hopeless servant from the god-like Emrys- burst and the air was thick with his power. Morgana took a tiny step backwards at first, but screwed up her courage, stood straight, and glared Merlin down.
"Morgana, you are beaten. End this," said the warlock.
Whatever she had expected to come out of his mouth, this wasn't it and she stood a little straighter in surprise. "Beaten? With your army and citizens cowering in the castle? Why would I surrender when all that stands between me and the throne is an exhausted servant?"
Darkness crept into Merlin's eyes; a ghost of ruthlessness that Morgana would expect only from one such as herself. It gave her pause as he spoke again. "Because I am not afraid to kill you."
There was a steel to Merlin's voice that pulled Arthur's attention away from the witch and focused it on his servant. All traces of the man that grinned stupidly up at him from the stocks- his face covered in the leavings of rotten fruit- were gone. In his place was the figure of a man whose bearing and power could rival Arthur's father.
Morgana, on the other hand, gave a light scoff and her stance relaxed further. "Don't think you'll have an easy time of it." Her posture tensed again and the magic around her bubbled in response. "I may not have the Emrys stone anymore, but that which it taught me has not left. My power is greater than it has ever been."
Merlin's wobbly form tensed as much as it seemed able, and Arthur could feel the response in his magic. The invisible sea around him roiled like a powerful storm, seeping into the earth and coiling around the king like a warm and familiar blanket. "Did you think that only went one way, Morgana?" asked Merlin with a disturbing amount of calm.
The earth cried out in a voice that Arthur could not hear with his ears, but felt with his heart; and it stole the breath from his lungs. Surely the witch felt it as well, for every muscle in her blithe stance tightened and gripped her into a position of anxiety and barely controlled fear. The very earth roared around them, and the same heartbeat that had once opened the king's mind to the world of magic now thudded through him with frightening power.
Merlin's hands opened, his palms facing the ground and his fingers curling as though attempting to grip something invisible. Arthur could almost see the wave of magic surge into the ground beneath him and shoot outward in a circle from the warlock's feet.
Morgana threw out a wordless cry and a blast of pure energy flew toward the still servant, uprooting soil and bits of stone as it went. Arthur fought against the magic that bound him, his grip on Excalibur tightening.
"Merlin! Will you-"
Merlin tossed his head to the side in a strangely dismissive motion and the surge of power deformed against an invisible wall in front of the warlock. A blast of harmless wind hit Arthur in the face. He opened his mouth to demand to be released but was silenced. A sound like stone grinding on stone erupted and swelled until Arthur's arms twitched in an attempt to cover his ears. The earth roared and shook, sending plumes of dust into the air until the courtyard was hazy as an early morning in the mountains.
A blast of magic cleared away the dust in a fraction of a second and Arthur's jaw dropped. With no more motion than the turning up of his palms, Merlin's magic held aloft all twenty-five of the men behind Morgana. In each hand was held a sword and with a simple swooping motion, they descended upon the witch like one of the hawking birds upon a hare.
There was another deep rumbling, but there was something raucous about this sound. It grated on the ear in a way that seemed very wrong, and the cocoon of comfortable magic that had surrounded the king was lifted away a little to let in a blast of dark power, like lifting the blankets on a cold morning and feeling the first kiss of icy air. Before a single blade could draw blood, the men suddenly flew back and away from the witch. With a series of thuds, cracks, and cries of pain, the men lay sprawled on the ground once more, but each sword had been pulled from their hands. Floating around Morgana's thin frame like some bizarre halo were twenty five swords, their points aimed at the tired warlock. The witch threw her hand forward, and the blades whistled through the air toward Merlin. The servant held out his hands, and the blades swung around him in graceful arches until they assumed a similar position; splayed out behind him with their points aimed at Morgana. The dark power was banished from within the cocoon around Arthur and the king was once again enveloped in Merlin's power. From the warlock's extended hands, there roared a blast of magic and Morgana was lifted off her feet. Her back hit the base of the Eastern tower and she yelped in pain.
And suddenly the magic changed. There was a tangible shift in the blanket that had, until this moment, been comforting and familiar. It now felt like he was being gently coddled by a sea of blades. It was prickly and uncomfortable. The temperature in the air hiked up several degrees and something caught Arthur's eye that sent butterflies to his gut.
As Merlin sent four swords flying at the witch to pin her against the tower, Arthur caught sight of a few of the stationary weapons behind his servant. There was a strange color overtaking the blades that reminded him of the metal that smiths worked over with hammer and tongs. It almost looked like the blades were beginning to glow with heat. The king glanced to Morgana, who struggled to free her clothing and hair from the blades, and squinted to see the growing look of pain on her face. He squinted and swore he could see thin wisps of smoke lifting away from the points where the blades had pierced Morgana's dress. Arthur looked to Merlin again.
The steel and ruthlessness had returned to Merlin's face and three swords drifted to his front. The warlock did not take his eyes from his enemy and threw his hand forward, the glowing swords responding by streaking through the air toward the prone witch. There was a deep grinding sound and suddenly, in Morgana's place, there sat a wall of earth. Merlin growled darkly and waved his hand. The earth crumbled back to the ground, but the witch had gone.
The heat coming from the swords that hung around the servant made sweat break out on Arthur's forehead and arms. He winced. "Merlin! Merlin let me up!" He leaned away from the heat as far as he was able, but the spell held fast. His calls fell on deaf ears as Merlin scanned the Saxon- littered grounds. The butterflies in his gut exploded into a fear that leaped into his throat. "Merlin, something's wrong!" he cried, his eyes fixed on one of the swords.
Metal had turned to liquid and from one of the folded blades dripped large globs of molten steel. It hit the dirt with a hiss and a puff of smoke. The other blades shimmered under waves of heat and a few more large drops of steel hit the ground around the warlock. Arthur struggled against the spell that held him with renewed vigor. "Merlin! Merlin, listen to me!" He shouted. The servant remained deaf to his cries and seemingly ignorant to the heat that continued to flow from the blades around him.
All at once, the earth behind Merlin exploded upwards. There was a popping noise unlike anything Arthur had ever heard. Before his eyes, the remaining swords behind Merlin burst into clouds of burnt ash, raining down on the king along with the dirt and pebbles from the explosion of earth. Morgana appeared from within the earth behind Merlin, a glint in her hand and murder in her eyes. She jabbed her hand forward. Merlin yelped, curling in on his side, and the world went white.
The holding spell released the king in time for him to be picked up and savagely flung back down one of the roads leading to the tower. He landed on his back, the wind rushing from his lungs and his grip on Excalibur turning his knuckles white. He coughed and sputtered and for every second he spent recovering, he pushed the panic and worry further down in his gut. He pushed himself to his feet and surged back toward the base of the Eastern Tower.
He stopped in his tracks when he got there. If any men had survived the spell that relieved them of their swords, they were now dead. Everything- save the tower itself- had been pushed to the edge of the courtyard; into walls, vendor stalls, and through windows. The courtyard now sat in a shallow crater like the stories Arthur had heard about great rocks that fell from the sky. At its center was Merlin, his weight resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his hair. He took a few steps toward him, but stopped at the movement to his left.
He rushed to stand between the recovering Morgana and the crumpled Merlin. Arthur held Excalibur up, but had difficulty hiding his surprise at the oddly pleased smile on the witch's face as she turned to face him.
"The Emrys Stone does wonders, does it not, Merlin?" she asked with a cruel smile playing on her lips.
Arthur did not take his eyes off his half- sister. "Merlin, what's wrong?" he demanded. He received no response, but a few whimpers and grunts behind him told him that the warlock was indeed still conscious. "Merlin!"
Morgana gave a wicked cackle. "He's not in much state to help you, Brother."
She would not get to him. He swung his sword in a horizontal arch and Excalibur thrummed in response. A blade of light tore away from the blade and raced toward the witch. She smiled and waved her hand dismissively. The blade parted at either side and she stepped through unharmed. Arthur wound up for another swing, but something that felt strangely like a jousting lance slammed against his shins and he tasted dirt. Morgana's dress appeared in front of him. She planted her foot into the tender spot where the sword had caught his chain mail earlier and kicked him onto his back. He glared in her glowing eyes as she towered over him, her hand splayed and a layer of magic holding him against the ground.
And suddenly she was gone. The magic released him and he shot to his feet. It took him a moment of sweeping his eyes along the grounds to spot the witch, who was once again against the eastern tower some ten meters away. Heavy arms of earth were wrapped around her body and standing in front of her with his arms curled around his torso was Merlin. Arthur dashed toward them and could soon see the glimmer of sweat on his servant's brow.
"Stay away!" Merlin's voice was deep and harsh; like an animal's growl.
Arthur ignored him, but in seconds slammed into something solid and staggered back a little. When he looked back to Merlin, one of the man's hands was extended toward him, and there was a look of pain in his eyes.
"Merlin, what the bloody hell is going on?!"
Morgana laughed again. "You play with magic but understand nothing. Your little warlock is coming apart at the seams." She craned her neck down toward Merlin to get as far into his face as her position would allow. "So much raw power and you've lost all control."
Merlin winced, and suddenly Arthur noticed a steady trickle of blood leaking from the servant's nose. Merlin's eyes locked with his king's and there was a panic and helplessness there that looked foreign on him. "Get away," said Merlin, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stop it, Arthur."
The earth rumbled beneath his feet, and the king had to steady himself. He pressed against the force the held him back, growling when it didn't yield. The earth's rumbling turned to shaking and he stumbled back a little. His eyes were drawn to the tower above him as it groaned under the motion. He threw himself against the barrier again. "Merlin! The tower! Stop this shaking!"
"I can't!" shouted the warlock, his voice hoarse. His eyes squeezed shut in a wince and his head dropped a little. "Get away!"
"There is no way I'm leaving you!" said the king, slamming Excalibur into the barrier.
Suddenly Arthur had no choice. His feet left the ground and within seconds he was sailing up and away from the tower. He flew over the houses and huts of his citizens and back toward the castle until he could smell the stench of dead horses from the stable.
His back hit the flat roof of a house right as an explosion deafened him. A visible shock-wave tore away from the base of the tower and as blackness overtook his vision, he could see the tower crumbling as if under its own weight.
Lemme know what you think! :D
1. "Kneel, you treacherous dogs!"
2. "Kneel, my master."