Chapter 49
A Pendragon War
The air was filled with restless energy that buzzed and burned under their skin. James and Ranoue faced Camelot's wall, hands firmly clasped together. They felt the web over the wall move with them as they shifted on their feet, compensating for the distance. It was building, waiting for the bond to be completed between casters.
Ranoue glanced at James out of the corner of his eye. It must be surreal for James to be here in Camelot, it was for Ranoue. He felt James emotions stir inside him none too quietly.
James felt it illogical to defend a kingdom that had done nothing but butcher their kind and yet he felt such an unwavering loyalty to Emrys that there was no choice other than to do what Emrys was unable to at the moment. Ranoue couldn't help but agree, so, here they both were... standing between Morgana, Emrys, of all people, and Arthur Pendragon because, because... Ranoue hesitated.
Well...why was Ranoue here? He glanced at James again, but quickly looked away when he felt a strange warmth spread through him. Something fluttered in his chest. The emotion swelling was as familiar as it was unfamiliar. He knew what it was, what it meant, and he feared admitting it, but despite that fear, he knew it better to acknowledge it, than shun it.
Ranoue was here for James, and James alone. He was fond of James, more than fond of him if he was being honest, but it was a delicate and forbidden matter.
Ranoue used to think it strange to put so much trust in a man he barely knew, but he trusted James nonetheless, maybe even more than he trusted himself at the moment. They were only a few years apart and their lives were so different...but fate still brought them each to this point in time.
"You good?" Ranoue whispered so only James would hear.
"Not in the slightest." James murmured, devoid of humor, but still managed a rueful smile.
Ranoue inhaled, counted to five and then exhaled slowly. Neither was he, Ranoue clenched his jaw. James had Ranoues' hand in a bruising grip. Ranoue gave James a reassuring squeeze. He felt James inside his mind, just as James felt Ranoue inside him. Felt his heartbeat alining in rhythm with his own. They were becoming one. Merging magic was a dangerous thing to do, and if you survive it, it will leave a mark on one another that will irrevocably tie them together, and they didn't mind in the slightest. A warmth engulfed them in a lover's embrace, connecting their souls evermore. The moment they fully bonded the enchantment arched dangerously before they both felt a heavy weight come down on them all. Ranoue and James combined magic was able to take the brunt of it, but the other spell caster had to deal with the overflow.
It wasn't but moments after the web was cast that they felt a disturbance along the wall.
A slight vibration shot through the web. As one, their actions synchronized, their minds aligning, Ranoue and James tightened their grip on the spell. The slight disturbance was almost easy to overlook. At first it was a low hum, but then it rose in magnitude. It shook the web, and the wall, violently. One by one the tethers of each sorcerer connected to the web and to James and Ranoue started to fray, like a rope holding too much weight. A deep rumble could be heard throughout the kingdom.
Emrys. His power was unmistakable. He was trying to take down the wall, and he wasn't alone. Morgana was with him; inside him, corrupting him. Ranoue and James felt the tainted magic through the web, it acted as a two way conduit allowing them to feel Merlin and Morgana just as they could feel them. The magic seeping from Merlin, or rather Emrys, felt like sticky tare. It tasted bitter and angry. The dark unstable magic that swallowed Emrys, slowly tried to swallow the web.
Morgana had completed the ancient spell and bound herself to him. They felt her horrid magic coming off of Merlin in undulating waves of barely restrained madness. Ranoue wasn't surprised, only shocked that Emrys' magic didn't overwhelm her or kill her. The verboten magic was banned for a reason, but that didn't matter to her so long as she got what her rotten heart desires.
Some part of Ranoue and James had honestly hoped Morgana wasn't stupid enough to use the ancient spell when she obviously didn't know what she was doing, but here was the proof. Morgana had Emrys; and as far as Ranoue or James' knowledge went there was no loophole or bending of the rules when it came to this kind of enchantment. Only rumors and theories.
Merlin was gone, and in his place was Emrys, dark, empty and angry. He was now everything Morgana was and more. Everything Merlin wasn't.
Emrys tried to force his way in, beating at the outer edges of the spell. The web started to shake and fray. He weakened the spell just enough to send a wave of fear through the untrained sorcerers.
"What is that?" A young sorcerer shouted. He looked at James, and then Ranoue, for answers.
"What's happening?" The others shouted in alarm.
"Steady." Ranoue called.
James glanced at Ranoue out of the corner of his eye at his shout. James was uncertain of Ranoues intent. Did he really think the seven of them stood a chance against this kind of power? The magical assault was hesitant but brutal, both familiar and foreign at the same time. At first it was seeking and searching, almost gentle in its quest. But when it found its mark, a weakness in their casters, it attacked without mercy. It slashed blindly at each tether that connected a spell caster to the web with an invisible knife, as if not really caring if he struck anything. Then it did strike something.
There was a shout, followed by a sickening crack to Ranoues' left that had him and James both sweating. They were down to six. The undisciplined sorcerers started to bolt.
Ranoue looked desperately at James. Fuck. The word bounced around both their minds. They felt each other's sudden spike of fear. If they bolted they were all dead. James' thoughts were all tangled up inside Ranoue, and Ranoues' emotions were entangled in James'. They didn't know where one ended and the other began. So, when they spoke next they spoke as one.
"Don't move." They ordered. "You move and we die." The others shifted but held still, all but one.
"We stay and we die," An older, skinny sorcerer spat bitterly.
Sven, James remembered vaguely, that was his name. James narrowed his eyes. He's gonna run, James thought, disgusted with him. James felt a niggling at the back of his mind. He reached for it and realized it was Ranoue, he was acknowledging James. It was an uncomfortable feeling having his soul laid bare before the man he felt so much for. James watched Sven out of the corner of his eye.
Sven looked down at the old man on the ground. In fear and disgust. He writhed in pain, legs bent awkwardly, still screaming but no sound emerged except a low hiss where air tried to force it way through his windpipe. A few seconds later and it was cut off. His neck jerked to the side and he fell to the ground, dead. Sven paled even more, let go of the person next to him, and bolted, severing his hold on the spell. A powerful force came down on them once more, taking advantage of the sudden fissure between casters.
Sven didn't get more than one step away before his legs gave out and he suddenly dropped, dead before he hit the ground. It wasn't the attacking magic that was at fault this time. Sven's death was his own. They had warned him of the consequences of breaking the spell, warned them all what would happen if they cut their ties abruptly. The other sorcerers stirred under the sudden weight of losing Sven and the old man, forcing James and Ranoue to take more of it to keep the spell intact. Thankfully they were ready for it.
Ranue felt James shy away from the deaths. He was still raw over the loss of his brother. He couldn't help but think that Darrin should be with him right now, not Ranoue, and a mean little voice hissed it's agreement. James shoved it down, away from Ranoue. Ranoue was a good man, he didn't mean for Darrin to be killed, it wasn't his fault. He saved three people. James couldn't take his sacrifice away from his brother. But they both seemed to understand that the pain of it wasn't going to be easily overlooked or healed.
"Do not lose focus." Ranoue encouraged James.
I'm not, James thought. He knew Ranoue could hear him. The connection between them left no barriers, no corner to hide in. All borders were gone. All the dark corners of their mind were illuminated for the other to see. All they needed to do was look.
James focused back on the magic. He traced it from Sven's dead body, to the old man beside him and then back to the web. He felt for the person who had killed the old caster but only found a black hole. It sucked him in; a sticky tar pit dragging him into darkness. James pulled back quickly, panting from the effort to get free of the black abyss as well as keep his hold on the spell. Was that Merlin? James breathed loudly. The strain of the spell took its toll.
Ranoue hesitated before he answered. He nodded his head, a dark cloud descended over his eyes. "Emrys, but what we felt was Morgana." He spoke for the sake of those around him. James seemed to not care that he wasn't speaking out loud. Ranoue seemed to draw some kind of comfort from speaking aloud, a grounding of sorts, where James drew comfort from speaking from his mind.
As soon as the name left Ranoues' lips another forceful wave hit the web, attacking the magic with a restrained ferocity. One by one the spell casters standing next to Ranoue and James fell to the ground, legs twisted at odd angles. One. Two. Three. Their silent cries never got the chance to pierced the air more than a second before it went eerily silent. It was even more horrifying that they were unable to vocalize their terror and pain. Their connections nearly severed, but somehow they held. It was dumb luck that they managed to still maintain the spell at all, and in such agony. But one by one, James and Ranoue felt their grip slip from the web.
There was a short tense pause where nothing happened, no one moved or spoke, except those three sorcerers writhing on the ground.
And then the full weight of the spell slammed down on James and Ranoue. They staggered under the weight of the spell thrust upon them. It was only a matter of seconds before it, or Emrys, killed them, leaving James and Ranoue the last defense between Emrys and the wall of Camelot. It took everything in them not to buckle under the force of Emrys' attack. His magic was too big, too powerful. They didn't stand a chance against this extraordinary and terrifying Warlock. Their supposed savior. Sweat rolled down their brows and had the fabric under their armor sticking to their skin uncomfortably. Their arms shook and their thighs burned from exertion. Ranoue took most of the weight of it knowing James was not strong enough to hold this much power, Ranoue was stronger, more experienced in battle magic but he wasn't invincible.
Ranoues' knees buckled from the weight. He hit the rocky ground so hard his teeth rattled. He tasted blood. He had bit his tongue. His knees protested against the weight of the spell. It threatened to unbalance him, but still, he managed to maintain the spell.
Arthur, who had been watching the scene unfold before him, had a pit forming in his stomach. He could not stay put any longer and rushed forward to help Ranoue, as if he could. This was magic. Arthur and magic mixed about as well Merlin and early mornings, or Gawain and sobriety.
"No," James yelled, noticing Arthurs advance. He dared a glance back at the king. "Stay back." The king would only get himself killed if he meddled now.
Arthur slid to a halt a few feet from them kicking up dirt and rocks in his hast. He landed in a sort of half crouch sprawled on his side. Cedric and Omari ran up next to him. Cedric reached down and helped him up.
"He is right. There is nothing you can do." Cedric murmured once Arthur got to his feet.
James grit his teeth, took his eyes from Arthur and glowered at Ranoue. That must have hurt. James felt the echo of Ranoue's pain through their bond. He would have felt more had the bond been like the one Morgana forced on Merlin, but the bond between Ranoue and James was a willing melding that allowed the other to share their strengths, emotions and thoughts, not one of control. James and Ranoues bond allowed enough of a connection between them that James knew the danger of what Ranoue had just done by taking most of the spell.
You shouldn't have done that, James scolded. James was strong enough. People often forget that a person's body must be as strong as their magic. Muscle is just as important as knowledge. It took a certain kind of living when it came to battle magic, even certain healing spells. One must be fit, healthy and willing to take chances. Even so, James' arms shook as he took some of the weight of the spell back from Ranoue. James kept one arm outstretched towards the wall and using their clasped hands pulled Ranoue to his feet. Ranoue nodded his thanks. But as soon as he got his feet underneath him another surge of malignant power came and washed over the writhing casters on the ground.
In one last attack the three casters fell dead, necks broken and eyes staring glassily up at the brightening night sky. The spell does not have time to finish them off. Emrys got there first. He was quicker this time, more efficient.
A surprising mercy, Ranoue acknowledged. Something he thought Emrys was incapable of doing while under Morgana's control. Maybe...maybe Merlin was strong enough to break past her hold. He was Emrys, after all. He is the most powerful warlock who will ever walk the earth. Maybe it was wrong of Ranoue to doubt that Emrys could fight her. Why wouldn't he?
Because he loves her, James admitted to Ranoue who refused to see what was in front of them. He saw it while he was captive. Merlin had a thousand and one opportunity to kill the witch, but he only kept trying to save her unholy soul.
Emrys put more power into his assault as if he had heard James' admittance. O-kay, Ranoue thought. Didn't expect that revelation. Ranoue grunted as Emrys bared down on them. Does Arthur know? Ranoue wondered, he strained against the spell, pushing back at Merlin with all his strength.
I don't know, James gasped. Maybe? There was no answer but there was a general sense that Ranoue thought that Arthur should know about the affair between Merlin and Morgana, but he didn't think it would change anything.
The weight of the spell was becoming too difficult to maintain with Emrys tearing at their web, and with losing so many caster in so few moments... It was too much. The spell was going to break and if they didn't get free the ricochet would be as deadly as ever, for both sides. Though it seemed Emrys didn't care much. He might even be hoping for the ricochet. The dark malignant force that was Morgana lived and breathed inside him, forcing his actions like a marionette, and he seemed determined in his recklessness. It made Emrys suicidal. He didn't care that forcing the spell to break could kill both parties, and maybe that's what he wants. An out for himself so he didn't have to destroy what he vowed to protect. There was a brief moment James thought maybe he should just let it happen, but he couldn't bring himself to let Ranoue die with them.
The web frayed even more, as weak as wet parchment. Once the spell diminished, Emrys, or rather Morgana charged in. They were brutal and uncaring as they tore down the wards. Where Merlin had been mild- Morgana made him vicious. Before they could do anything, another wave of magic pulsed out from Merlin with barbarous intent, tearing through the last of the worn web. With one last pulse and the magic shifted.
"Look out!" Ranoue shouted when he felt the angry force reach for Arthur who still stood only feet from them. But before it could touch Arthur it reared back as if burned. Something, or someone, prevented it from harming him. A light glow shot through the web before being swallowed whole once more.
That had to be Merlin. He's still fighting her! James thought. He felt the swell of magic react violently to the inability of attacking Arthur and in turn the dark magic changed course and attacked James. Ranoue felt the shift of attention. On impulse, Ranoue redirected it towards himself, unable to see James harmed, and let it ravage him. Ranoue had got James' brother killed, he wasn't going to let him die too, he cared too much for him. He had gotten strangely attached to him, more so than he has to any man. Only time would tell what it would bring; if he survived. He glanced at James a second before it hit, memorizing his beautiful face. His dark blond hair and radiant blue green eyes, full lips and high cheekbones. Gorgeous. He was thankful he was the last thing he would see before death.
Ranoues attention was diverted back to the spell hurtling at him when he felt the crackle of magic nearby. "Fuck." Ranoue grunted. He grit his teeth against the agony and let it wash through him. He did his best to neutralize the spell but it still pillaged his soul, attacked his magic. He felt Morgana's rage, her sorrow, and her desperation, but he also felt Merlin's determination. Even as she ripped and rented at his insides trying to do the most amount of damage in the least amount of time, Merlin tried to repair it.
Morgana was powerful, but with Merlin's help Ranoue was able to channel the magic back into the web by using the attack to charge the spell that protects the wall; building it up; mending its weaknesses. But even as he channeled the spell through him, with Merlin's help, Morgana did her best to destroy him, and smother Merlin's help. He felt it when Merlin vanished into the murky depths of Morgana hold. He was swallowed by the darkness and in his place was Emrys fully back in Morganas' control. She reached through him to Ranoue, her intent clear and bold and retracted the magic.
"Damn it," Ranoue slurred, his body felt heavy and his muscles strained. He groaned. It hurt. My God, this was painful. His back arched for a moment, as if Morgana had grabbed hold of his heart and tugged, trying to rent it from his chest as she and the spell left. He swayed on his feet, but managed to stay standing by sheer will power alone. His thighs burned and his knees creaked. His chest fluttered with his panting breaths. In the absence of Morgana and Emrys, Ranoue felt like he was being crushed by the protection spell as it filtered through him and back into the web, and he knew James was feeling the effects too.
James gasped. He felt the wave of magic reaching for him, but before it hit it cut to his right. James paled. He looked over to Ranoue just as the spell hit him. James winces on Ranoues behalf. That was stupid, James thought. He pressed his lips together when Ranoue started to shake. His teeth chattered loudly in the cold coseismal night. It was so late that it was early. The witching hour. Fitting, James thought. He glanced at the fallen spell casters around them and back to Ranoue. James didn't want to be in his head if he died. A horrible thought, he knew that, but it couldn't be helped. He cared for Ranoue, more so than was probably socially proper, but he didn't care. It was bad enough to have been present in the minds of five people when they felt such pain, confusion and terror. It was traumatizing... and to lose another friend, someone he cared so much for...If Emrys killed Ranoue it would ruin any part of James that still believed that there was some good left in him.
This is not Merlin, nor is it Emrys, not really. Morgana has poisoned him. If I die, it is because it was my time. Nothing more, Ranoue said urgently. He felt James acknowledge his words but he didn't have time to unpack all James' worries. They felt a low rumble deep below their feet.
That's not good, Ranoue and James both thought simultaneously.
"What's happening?" Arthur worried.
"Emrys." Ranoue hissed. "He's trying to take down Camelot's walls." He kept his focus on the ramparts and the ward he struggled to piece back together, but each part of the spell he mended, Emrys was there tearing it back down. It was doubly difficult to concentrate and be in James' mind when he was so close to an edge he couldn't pull himself back from.
James had the same thoughts, and as much as his being wanted to give in to his fear of Emrys, he knew that Ranoue still believed in Merlin and so James had to believe that maybe Merlin could make it right. He hoped Ranoue was right.
Emrys ripped and teared at the ward, he was restrained, as if Merlin refused to just let go of any hold he had over himself. They could help Merlin win, but not if he was going to be this annoying. It was like he was playing with them now.
He's stalling, James gasped.
If he is, Morgana isn't going to be gentle when she finds out. Ranoue murmured tersely.
"Emrys?" Arthur asked, perplexed. He shook his head. What did he have to do with this? Arthur knew Merlin wasn't a killer. This had to be Morgana. "What does Merlin have to do with this?"
James glanced at Arthur and back to the wall. "I know what you're thinking, Arthur. Merlin isn't a killer." He nearly mocked. "But this is Merlin controlled by Morgana."
Ranoue grunted his agreement. "He's right." He grit his teeth as another wave of magic frayed part of the web. "He is not a murderer, but he has killed because circumstances deemed it necessary, and he is good at it. It's just that now he has a bit of an incentive to keep at it."
"And no conscience to get in the way." James mumbled bitingly.
"Merlin wouldn't do this." Arthur glared at James, and then back at Ranoue. He wasn't angry with him, just angered at the implication. Merlin isn't a killer. He's a kind soul. Arthur always thought of him as more a healer than a fighter. He loved more than humanly possible and thought of others more than himself. What Arthur just saw...such easy, careless death... this was not Merlin.
James sighed in agitation. His gaze still on the spell and the wall. He started to feel small bits of stone falling from the parapet. The castle was starting to crumble and there wasn't a thing they could do to stop it, only slow the inevitable. "Merlin isn't the same as when you knew him, but you're right about one thing, Merlin wouldn't do this. But this is not truly Emrys. But Morgana now dictates when, where, and how Emrys kills."
Arthur looked at James, and then Ranoue for a long moment as if he couldn't fully grasp what that meant; not until his gaze landed on the fallen sorcerers once more. He really did this didn't he? Arthur swallowed a lump in his throat. This is really happening. And yet, no matter the proof, Arthur still couldn't abandon the hope that Merlin wasn't evil, that this wasn't really him. Merlin can be saved. Magic isn't evil. "How do you know for sure?" Arthur asked low and steady.
Ranoue risked a glance at him. "I can feel him." Ranoue grunted. "His power is unmistakable."
Arthur ran his gloved hand through his hair, the leather pulling on the strands. He thought he would have had more time before this battle. "How is this happening? Merlin was on our side last when I spoke with him." He turned his searching gaze to Cedric and Omari.
Cedric stood on Arthurs left, Omari on Arthurs right. "He was." Cedric spoke up when neither Ranoue, James, or Omari spoke. There attention solely on maintaining the spell. "I warned you. Morgana has cursed him."
Arthur stilled, his gut filled with rage and a bright raging light exploded behind his eyes. That's what he meant? He wanted to shout. "This is the thing you mentioned?" Arthur asked softly, forcefully keeping his tone low. Cedric pressed his lips together and nodded his head sadly.
"A bond," Omari cut in. Arthur turned to look at her, giving her his full attention. "That little runt, Mordred, called it a Bond of Beasts. Said it was a bond of time, of life energy. Morgana bound herself to him, to his very life force... to his magic, essentially." Omari shrugged. She fiddled with the rough edged onyx stone on the top of the staff she carried. Carvings adorned the pale wood, words of the Old Religion wound around the staff. The stone and the carved words on the staff allowed it to morph into a bow when the need arose. It was enchanted so that the wood would never break or splinter.
"When did he tell you that?" Cedric demanded, looking at his sister intently. She had a habit of disappearing with no explanation and turning up days later with some vague excuse as to why she left in the first place and always with important information, like this. She did it all the time. It was annoying.
"He didn't have to, remember." She rolled her eyes at his cool glare, and looked at Arthur. "I can hear those pesky little thoughts people try to keep hidden. The harder you try to hide them the easier it is to pick them out of the dark reaches of the mind."
Omari proved this fact by glancing back at Percival, the only other knight besides Gawain who chose to stay with the King, and winked. Percival looked away from her. She could have sworn she saw a slight blush creep up his neck. Yeah, she knew he was thinking about last night. She was too. She hadn't ever thought she would find a man she would like, let alone one she would want to keep, but here she is ogling a Camelot knight as if he were her last supper, which she supposed he was.
Last night was bewitching. It gave her a glimpse of what it was like to have what other, regular, less fantastic, women had. The passion that overwhelmed them the previous night was simple. It flowed and ebbed like the ocean tide. They fit together on a cellular level. It was wonderful! Soul-mate was a term that came to mind, but her people rarely found one, and if they did they didn't always end up with them. Her kind lived longer than most so it made it difficult to find a mate outside their own kind. But she had, and she knew deep down in her heart that she couldn't keep him. He was human, she was not and he wasn't hers to claim. Besides, it wasn't as if a Dragon Seeker and a Camelot knight could have a happy ever after. There were no such things. It was a whimsical ideal, like romance and love, that gave little girls hope when they got older. It didn't mean 'honeyed' or 'flowery', it was dark and tormented- the furor of passion and the despair of an idealism that you cannot be attained, and that is what they had; something unattainable.
Especially if Omari's father, Gabriel, knew of it. He was as unforgiving as Uther Pendragon, and his purge; Camelot forever his scourge. He and Omari's mother Anna, are two of the last Keeper of Dragons and they did not approve of the Pendragon reign.
They are to Merlin as a general is to a king. A dragon keeper and his seekers, like Cedric and Omari, were loyal to Emrys, but they were peaceful people, like the druids, and chose no side except the dragons. Unlike Omari and Cedric who believed that there would come a time that they would need to choose a side in order to save the dragons.
Arthur sighed. He turned back to James and Ranoue suddenly feeling as if he had aged decades. He felt weaker, heavier. Exhaustion tugged at him, ever persistent. His hands felt numb and cold, useless to grip a sword and his skin felt tight around his bones. Grief did that to you. Weighed you down.
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "How much longer do you think you can hold the spell?" Arthur asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.
As if his words broke something in them, James' knees buckled and Ranoue staggered under the weight once more, but thankfully managed to stay on his feet this time. The repair was back-firing. Morgana had found out Merlin was stalling. Her retaliation was brutal. She sent lances of pain into Merlin, forcing him into submission. Ranoue and James felt the reverberation from the assault like an echo off a valley wall.
There was a silent shout of frustration and despair that pierced their minds through the web. It was Merlin. Morgana had invaded him, reaching through him, smothering the flame that was Merlin like a candle in a storm. Emrys was brutal and uncaring now as he tore through their repairs. Like a mad dog, he attacked everything in his sights. Whatever she just did got him to obey.
"Not long. He's too strong." Ranoue grunted.
It was as if his words were the starting call to battle. There was a low rumble and Arthur turned just in time to watch Morgana's army start its march forward. The sound of their march sent chills down his spine. The ground rumbled with each step. The vibration raced up his legs and settled like a rock in his gut.
Arthur watched in horror as Camelot's knights were forced to meet them head on. The archers got into place, rushing to the front to stem the flow. How could he have missed this? The knights drew their swords, raised them high and roared. Had he been that engrossed in the magic and death before him that he had completely missed the charge? Who in the hell was leading Camelot's Army into battle?
Arthur watched on as Morgana's army broke into a steady trot charging their archers arrows. Camelots archers desperately tried to slow their progress, but the coming army didn't stop, didn't so much as falter. Arthur watched in absolute panic as the army cut through the archers' arrows as if they were never even there. Hardly any arrows hit its mark and the few that did didn't do much good because for every person that fell four more took their place.
Strangely it reminded him of his studies in mythology as a boy. Hydra, the beast had been called; if you cut off one head two more grew back in their place. Unable to watch from the side lines any longer, Arthur jumped atop his horse and rode out to join up with his knights ,desperate to get there before the armies collided, determined to help save some of his people or die with them.
"Arthur!" Gawain yelled. "Don't!"
Arthur ignored him and galloped towards his men like the devil was on his tail, which he probably was in Arthurs mind. "Damn it," Gawain cursed when Arthur showed no sign of slowing. He turned and hit Percival on the shoulder, a silent communication to follow.
As one they mounted up. Their horses pranced back and forth with nervous energy as they settled atop them. Gawain didn't hesitate to charge after Arthur. He was determined to keep him safe if Merlin couldn't, even if it meant his death. That was the least Gawain could do for his friend.
Percival hesitated. He glanced at Omari for a quick moment. His jaw flexed and everything in him rebelled against leaving her side, but his duty and honor demanded that he follow the king. She seemed to understand his reluctance to leave her, and the need to follow after his king, because she nodded slightly to him, letting him know it was going to be alright, whatever the outcome. He looked at her for a long moment, indecision shined from his expressive baby blue eyes. He nodded once and turned his horse towards the battle and charged after Arthur and Gawain without further delay.
Arthurs' hope plummeted as he watched the armies collide yards before he could reach a single one of his men. Arthur pulled back the reins in dismay, his horse skidded and reared up at the sounds of battle and his sudden harsh treatment. Hroegen was trained from birth to be a war horse, just as Arthur has trained to be a knight, but he felt Arthurs reluctance to charge into the fight. Hroegens' sides heaved and white jets of hot air shot from his nostrils with each panting breath. Arthurs chest rose and fell in time with Hroegen as they both assessed the raging battle before them.
Hroegen pawed the ground, anxious to join the chaos. Arthur shook his head in wonder at how quickly this moment had come. He kicked Hroegen into a hard gallop searching for Morgana. He charged through the outskirts of battle. The Mercenaries made quick work of the best of his men, and with the aid of her sorcerers it made it easy for them to gain ground. Such a large force... Camelot doesn't have a chance. Arthur thought disheartened.
Arthur had spell casters of his own. There was proof of that when he saw flashes of gold in the eyes of the people he rode past. Mercenaries dropped dead, creating a path from him and Hroegen to pass. Arthur jumped over fallen mercenaries and Knights alike. Their bodies lay scattered over every inch of the field, limbs were severed and heads were detached from their bodies in a horrendous and impressive display of carnage. Blood covered the frozen ground, turning the earth into a sloppy red sludge.
Arthur could barely believe that this was happening right now. He knew that battle was messy. That it would take lives and ruin good men. Arthur had seen war and been in multiple battles but this... this was worse than he had ever witnessed. Nothing could compare, not even his worst nightmare. His knights, men he had grown up with, trained with, dying or dead all around him. Their eyes shined up at Arthur, almost accusingly, blaming all this bloodshed on Arthur. And maybe that was true. They were all here because of his choices, because he chose to trust the wrong people. He chose to hold out hope for Morgana. He chose to believe in Aggravain. He chose to marry Guinevere- knowing it may start a war. It was his sister, his responsibility. This was all on him. This was a Pendragon war.
Arthur felt a sudden desperation to reach the center of the battle. He jumped from his horse, and rushed to join the battle, but not before giving his horse the word to retreat. He rushed off to the safety of the forest. Rather than be removed from battle atop his steed, he wanted up close and personal, because this was all personal to him. Arthur charged ahead into battle. He tried not to look at the people around him, but it was difficult. Seeing his men dead and dying did strange things to him. He felt a seething rage over taking him and he let it. He let it guide him, rule him. Morgana was his sister, his responsibility to stop, and she was trying to take his kingdom.