Merlin and the Land of Mists: Book Five: The Battle for Avalon

by P. J. Cormack

  “The Raven Kind have delivered the Raven Boy’s messages,” the giant raven said while gasping hard and forcing the air back into his lungs. It had been a long and perilous flight even for a raven as powerful and strong as Kraak.

  “Then Draago, Stormrider and Firewing will be here soon,” Galahad said with a sense of pride for he had never doubted the loyalty of the Mythical Beasts of Avalon to Merlin.

  Grim sighed with relief while thinking that this was the first bit of good news that he had heard since the Dark Clouds of the Dark Magic had arrived at Avalon’s borders.

  “Yes,” Kraak replied while still struggling for breathe. “They all come at the Raven Boy’s call.”

  “And what of Merlin, is he safe?” Galahad asked for it seemed a very long time since he had seen his friend.

  “Kraak could find no trace of the Raven Boy,” the big raven answered.

  “He could still be with the Druids,” Galahad said hoping that this was indeed the case.

  “Or he could be with the Hunter,” Kraak replied bleakly.

  “Yes,” Galahad agreed and he was uneasy for he knew the stories of how unstable Herne the Hunter had become over the last five centuries. It was generally considered that the Hunter was now almost completely insane and that he lived for only one thing and that was to hunt – and to kill.

  “Grim does not like Herne the Hunter,” the ghoul said with more than a little feeling.

  “Have you met the Hunter, Kraak?” Galahad asked the big raven.

  “Herne has not hunted for many hundreds of years,” Kraak replied in a voice as bleak as winter snow. “But we know him. He is cruel and has killed many of the Raven Kind.”

  “As cruel as Mithras Invictus?” Galahad asked knowing the Elder god’s reputation for fire and blood and love of sacrifice.

  “No one is as cruel as Mithras Invictus,” Kraak told the boy warrior bluntly.

  “Grim worries for the Raven Boy,” Grim said. “Grim wishes Raven Boy was here,” he added knowing that he spoke for all of them.

  “Me too,” Galahad echoed the ghoul’s thoughts.

  “Perhaps Herne hunts the Raven Boy,” Grim said, an uncontrollable shake coming over his two hundred year old bones.

  “No,” Galahad answered emphatically, “Herne can’t do that. Merlin is his father’s son. The Hunter won’t be able to hunt or even seriously threaten Merlin – but,” he added with a wry smile, “I don’t think that they will like one another very much.”

  “Perhaps Raven Boy cannot find Herne,” Grim suggested thinking that Herne the Hunter would pretty well be the last person on Earth that he would want to seek out. Other than Mithras Invictus the ghoul corrected himself.

  “If Herne still lives, Merlin will find him,” Galahad told the slightly rattling ghoul.

  “The Hunter lives,” Kraak said bleakly. “The Raven Kind know this.”

  “Grim wishes Raven Boy was here,” Grim said once again in a plaintive voice and, as if in answer to the ghoul’s wishes, there was a bright shimmering in the air.

  It was not Merlin, as they had expected, who stood before them but Galapas, once High Mage of Camelot.

  “Greetings Galahad, Grim, Kraak,” even as the High Mage spoke Galahad could see that Galapas’ mouth was set in a hard line that was, in a way, strangely reminiscent of Merlin.

  “What are you doing here, Galapas?” Galahad asked while thinking that this was the first time that he had ever seen the High Mage use his magical powers to the full. The boy warrior had not known that Galapas, like Merlin, could transfer his body by magic and enchantment.

  “I’ve come to help,” Galapas told the boy warrior and there was indeed a steely look in the High Mage’s eyes. “I’ve come to help – or to die – one or the other and perhaps both.”

  “Merlin would not want that,” Galahad said knowing that he spoke the truth. Merlin had great affection for the High Mage who had brought him up far from his birth place but close to his father’s shrine that was the Crystal Cave.

  “Not all decisions are Merlin’s to make,” Galapas told the boy warrior bluntly. “I follow my own destiny.”

  “Merlin has gone to talk with Herne the Hunter,” Galahad told the High Mage, equally bluntly.

  “The Hunter!” Galapas certainly hadn’t seen that one coming. “By the Bull is that a good idea?”

  Galahad wasn’t sure that it was but he would always be loyal to his friend.

  “Merlin seemed to think so.”

  “But Herne is supposed to be…” Galapas let the words hang.

  “Off his head,” Galahad suggested.

  “I was going to say more than a little mad,” the High Mage spoke grimly.

  “Well that, then,” Galahad agreed thinking that pretty well summed up everything that he had ever heard about Herne the Hunter.

  “Why on earth has Merlin gone to Herne?” Galapas asked for it seemed a pretty stupid – if not totally dangerous thing for the boy enchanter to do. Particularly at a time when Camelot and Avalon needed him so badly – and in one piece.

  “He wants to raise all the Powers that he can to defend Avalon,” Galahad said in answer to the High Mage’s question.

  “Raven Boy is very brave,” Grim put in. The ghoul’s voice and bones were shaking noisily even at the mention of Herne the Hunter.

  “He’ll need to be to face the Hunter,” Galapas said knowing that what he spoke was the least of it.

  “The Raven Boy has also summoned Draago, Stormrider and Firewing,” Kraak said thinking that it would be a good idea to turn the High Mage’s attention away from Herne the Hunter. If only for a short time.

  “Has he indeed? That is good,” Galapas was genuinely pleased and not a little reassured by this news. “And have the Mythical Beasts of Avalon answered his call?”

  “They have,” Kraak replied, “And the Raven Kind are also ready to fight for the Raven Boy – and for Avalon.”

  “I would have expected no less from your noble people, Kraak,” the High Mage said while slightly bowing his head to the King of the Raven Kind.

  “The Raven Kind thank you,” the huge raven replied also bowing his head.

  “There’s someone coming,” Galahad said for even though he had been intent on what Galapas, Grim and Kraak had been saying the boy warrior never completely let down his guard.

  “It’s Sir Lauriston du Lac,” he finished bleakly.

  “He’s probably coming to try to take me to the king,” Galapas added equally bleakly.

  “Why?”

  Galahad asked for he was well aware of King Uther Pendragon’s promise that his former High Mage would be left in peace.

  “Let’s just say that the king is not very good at keeping his word these days,” was Galapas’ answer and there was more than a touch of anger in his voice.

  “I hope that you didn’t leave him squealing like a pig as Merlin did?” Galahad suggested with a rueful smile.

  “I don’t have that sort of power, but if I did…” once again the High Mage let his voice trail off.

  “I’ll deal with Sir Lauriston du Lac,” Galahad said and once more, out of habit, the boy’s hand crept to the hilt of his sword. “We can’t let King Uther Pendragon’s temper tantrums get in the way of our defence of Avalon whether he is the king or not.”

  The four friends watched as Sir Lauriston rode towards them. They were all conscious that the Storm Clouds of the Dark seemed to be ever closer.

  Lightning continued to strike down, burning and destroying everything that it hit. Thunder boomed out so loud that it seemed to dull the senses and all over Camelot and Avalon the sky was the colour of lead or that of a pale horse.

  There was no doubt that the Dark Magic was coming in this, its Greatest Rising. At its helm and very much the focal point would be the Dark Lord of the Underworld and his Army of the Dead.

  Galahad drew his sword from its scabbard and stood in front of Galapas as Camelot’s Knight Commander approached them.


  “What seek you here, Sir Lauriston?” The boy’s voice ran out loud and true even over the distant cracks of thunder and burning lightning strikes.

  “Galapas,” the big knight said and his eyes where very much on the sword that Galahad carried so confidently in his hand.

  “You shall not take him.”

  Once more Galahad’s voice came clear over the storm and Sir Lauriston du Lac knew that what the boy warrior said was true. It would be a very brave – or very foolish knight who tried to force their way past the boy warrior.

  “You misunderstand me, Galahad,” the big knight’s answered, “I’ve come to apologise to the High Mage.”

  “Apologise?”

  That was certainly not what Galahad had expected to hear.

  Sir Lauriston du Lac turned to face the High Mage and he was careful to keep his hand clear of his sword. There was no ignoring the warning that had come from the boy warrior.

  “I had no idea that Uther would treat you as he has, I swear it,” he told Galapas and there was no doubting the sincerity in his voice. “You have been a good and loyal servant to Camelot, Galapas.”

  “As has Merlin,” the High Mage put in, feeling that this too needed to be said.

  “Does the king know that you are here?” Galahad asked the big knight.

  “He does not,” the big knight’s face was stern for it was obviously not a question that he was happy with.

  “Then why are you?” Galahad asked and it was a very fair question for Sir Lauriston du Lac’s loyalty to Camelot’s king was legendary.

  “I would never betray, my king - never,” Sir Lauriston said. “But I felt that my place was to be here – to live or to die in the defence of Avalon. By fighting for his realm I do not betray my king.”

  Galahad wasn’t too sure that King Uther Pendragon would see it that way and the boy also thought that there seemed to be an awful lot of talking about dying.

  Even so he limited his response to a question that he had asked himself many times.

  “What has happened to the king, Sir Lauriston? Why has he changed so much?”

  Sir Lauriston sighed for it was a question that had also troubled him for some considerable time.

  “I do not understand it myself,” the big knight admitted. “King Uther still deeply mourns the loss of his queen, but he was changing even before Queen Alona’s death. Perhaps the crown weighs too heavily on him.”

  That was as close as Camelot’s Knight Commander would ever come to criticising his friend and king. For a moment there was an uneasy silence.

  “This will be a Battle of the Deep Enchantment, Sir Lauriston,” Galapas felt that it was more than time enough to change the subject. “You can do very little here – but you can still die and it will not be an easy death.”

  “I know that,” Sir Lauriston du Lac’s voice was harsh as he answered the High Mage. “But nevertheless here I will stand or fall – and with you.”

  A cloud of worry crossed the Knight Commander’s face, “Where is Merlin?” He asked for he had only just noticed the boy enchanter’s absence.

  “He speaks with Herne the Hunter,” Galahad told him bluntly.

  The big knight could not hide his surprise, “Herne the Hunter, does he really exist? I thought that he was just a myth – a tale to scare the children at bedtime.”

  “Herne is no myth,” Galapas told him more than a little forcefully.

  “And does he truly hunt with his pack of Hell Hounds?”

  There was awe in Sir Lauriston du Lac’s voice for he had heard many tales of Herne the Hunter and the Wild Hunt. If only half of them were true then the big knight knew that the Hunter was certainly not a Being to cross or to annoy.

  “Merlin is trying to persuade Herne to hunt the Forces of the Dark,” Galahad put in.

  “Has he been successful,” Sir Lauriston asked and that was a question that they all would like to have answered.

  “We don’t know,” Galahad admitted, “But there are others who will fight alongside us.”

  “Others?” Sir Lauriston questioned.

  “The Old Magic is coming to Merlin’s call,” Galapas told the big knight. “Draago the Dragon, Firewing the Griffin and Stormrider and his herd of Unicorns. In fact all the Mythical Beasts of Avalon.”

  “And the Raven Kind also come to fight for the Raven Boy,” Kraak said with more than a little pride in his harsh voice.

  “That is great loyalty,” Sir Lauriston could at least now see a chink of hope in what he had been told.

  Then his face clouded over again, “But will it be enough to stop the Dark Lord?”

  “It would have been if the king had not ordered the destruction of the Altars of Mithras Invictus,” the High Mage told him bluntly.

  “I could not stop him,” Sir Lauriston said and there was a note of genuine regret in his voice. “The king seems to hate the Bull Slayer. I think that, deep down, he is very scared of the Elder god - and he blames Mithras for Queen Alona’s death.”

  “Only a fool would not fear the Bull Slayer,” Galapas stated what they all knew to be true.

  “King Uther will never admit or surrender to fear,” Sir Lauriston said. “He blusters and threatens so as to overcome it. It is not good for a king to show fear.”

  “He would be more of a man to admit his worries,” the High Mage said bleakly. “There is nothing shameful in fearing a god.”

  “Or his son,” Galahad added, wishing for about the hundredth time that Merlin was back with them and telling them all what they should do.

  The boy warrior knew that they desperately needed Merlin to return to them so that they could at least try to save Avalon from the Dark Forces that now looked so very much closer and which threatened to overwhelm everything that Camelot and Avalon had ever stood for.

  If Mithras’ son was with them then they had a chance of defeating the Dark Lord and his Dark Magic.

  Without him the Battle for Avalon was lost before it had even begun and Galahad was fully aware of that fact.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE UNDERWORLD

  The fires of the Underworld were burning brighter than they had for many a millennia for this was the Time of the Dark Magic’s Greatest Gathering and its final Coming into its Full Strength.

  The Army of the Dead was still held there by the bonds of the Old Magic but they could feel that their shackles were weakening for this was indeed their Time and they had waited long for this day.

  Howls rose from the remnants of throats that had not spoken for hundreds if not thousands of years.

  They lusted for revenge. They longed to be able to, once more, pursue the Evil and Cruelty that had seen them banished to the Hell of the Underworld.

  A great and blind poet of the Future would one day write that it was ‘better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven’ but this had not been to the liking of the Army of the Dead. They sought only to crush and to kill and to once more bring fear and death to the World of Men.

  The Dark Lord stood by these Gates of Hell, the Gates to the Underworld. He knew that he could not yet unleash his Army of the Dead back onto the world from which they had died and been eternally banished.

  The Dark Lord also knew that this was his greatest opportunity to bring the Reign of Hell to the World of Men.

  Before the Dark Lord stood the four Riders of the Dark. They would be the first that he would unleash to weaken yet further the Protection of the Old Magic.

  Now that Mithras Invictus, the Unconquered god had withdrawn his protection from Camelot and Avalon the Dark Lord knew that here was his greatest opportunity to brutally seize that which he had desired for an Eternity.

  Here, at last, was his longed for opportunity to rule first Camelot and Avalon and then the whole of Britannia and finally everything that lived and breathed in the World of Men.

  It would begin with his four Riders of the Apocalypse that he would unleash to scour and bring down the few last remnants of the Elder god’s Prot
ection of the Old Magic.

  The next to fall would be Camelot’s Deathbringer king and then Camelot and also somewhere there would be the Raven Boy. The same Raven Boy who had thwarted the Powers of the Dark so many times before.

  His would not be an easy death, the Dark Lord would make sure of that.

  This boy deserved to die very slowly and also very, very painfully, the Dark Lord of the Underworld knew that he would make absolutely certain of that.

  “Now is your Time, my Riders,” the Dark Lord’s voice sounded like thunder as he addressed the four skeletal figures that sat astride horses that were themselves only bone and the semblance of horses.

  “Now is the Time for you to bring Terror and Devastation to Camelot. Let them see that the Power of the Dark is Gathering in this Land of Avalon.”

  The Dark Lord’s voice had risen almost to a scream as the passion for bringing Death and Destruction rose from deep within this huge Being of the Dark.

  “Let them see that this is the Time of the Dark. Ride my Riders. Kill Uther Pendragon. Raze Camelot to the ground and find me this Raven Boy.”

  The whole of the Dark Lord’s huge body was shaking with his passion so that even the Army of the Dead ceased their clamour – if only for a short time.

  The Voices of the Dead rose again joining in the ecstasy of the Dark Lord as the Four Riders of the Apocalypse rode hard and fast for the skies and for Avalon.

  The Dark Lord turned to face his Army of the Dead and with a voice that was an ear-piercing scream he put back his head and bellowed his defiance.

  “Ride, my Riders, Ride - FOR IT HAS BEGUN.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DRUIDS’ WOOD

  The Druids were stood looking up at the dark thunder clouds that were rolling ever closer to Avalon and which, they knew, threatened not just them but All of Humanity.

  “The Dark is Gathering,” Gwydion confirmed what the Druids could plainly see with their own eyes. “And now is our time. Are you ready, Myfanwy?”