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

by P. J. Cormack

  They had died once so could never be killed again by any living hand.

  How did you fight an Army that could not die?

  Merlin didn’t have the answer to that and for a moment he just stood gazing at the distant Forces of the Dark as they came like an unstoppable tsunami in huge numbers and across the Fields of Avalon..

  Galahad’s and Sir Lauriston wheeled and fought ferociously in a desperate effort to keep the Creatures of the Dark from killing the boy enchanter.

  They knew that the Dark Magic sought to destroy the one opponent that it feared the most.

  The only person who could stand against the Full Power of the Dark Magic – the Raven Boy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DRUIDS’ WOOD

  The Druids knew that they were fighting a losing battle.

  There were just too many of their enemy and there had never been enough of the Druids to overcome or even withstand the Forces of the Dark Magic.

  All they could hope to do was to distract the Dark Magic long enough for the Old Magic to come to their aid.

  From the very first this had been the impossible task they had feared. Even so Myfanwy stood fearlessly alongside her father as the High Druid brought together every Spell of Protection known to the Druids.

  It was not enough but then Gwydion had known that from the beginning. The only alternative was to admit defeat and just let the Dark Lord and his Dark Forces roll into Avalon and that he was most certainly not prepared to allow.

  The Druids knew that there was no more that they could do. It was better to go down fighting than to just dumbly surrender.

  Fire was raining down now, striking like hammer blows into Druids’ Wood. Fire that was as meteors smashing and burning everything that stood in its path. It was a fire that was unquenchable and could not be dowsed for this was the Fire of the Dark Magic.

  Then had come the Tornadoes of the Dark, those whirling destructive towers that the Dark Magic used to destroy and rip apart that which it could not burn with its Fire.

  The Spell of Protection had held for a while and the Dark Magic had run around it and over Druids’ Wood seeking a way through the Enchantment. Every one of the Druids was fully aware that they could not hold this Protection for much longer. The Dark Magic and its Forces were just too strong for them.

  Slowly and surely the Druids’ Spell of Protection had buckled under the huge force of the Malevolence that was brought against it. The Fire of the Dark was steadily forcing its way through the Dome of Protection that the Druids had cast over themselves.

  They had held for as long as they could but these were mortal men and women and they did not possess the seemingly unbreakable stamina of the Forces of the Dark Lord.

  Slowly and inexorably the Mind of the Dark Lord had forced gaps in the Spell of Protection.

  It was through these that the Thunderbolts of the Dark Magic broke past to burn and destroy anyone or anything that lay before it.

  Myfanwy glanced sideways at her father. As High Druid he carried the most Power but the Druid girl knew that her father was weakening. Sweat was pouring down Gwydion’s face and Myfanwy saw that the muscles and sinews in her father’s neck and arms stood out like knotted rope. It was easy to see, Myfanwy thought to herself, that Gwydion could not hold out for much longer. As the last of the High Druid’s strength drained away so would they all die.

  Gwydion felt his daughter’s gaze on him.

  “We must hold on, Myfanwy,” he told his daughter. “We need to give Merlin and the Old Magic as much time as we can. They are Avalon’s hope - not us.”

  The Druid girl looked around herself and it was not a pleasant sight that met her eyes.

  Many of the Druids were now kneeling on the ground of Druids’ Wood for they had given all that they had to give and could do no more.

  Myfanwy saw bodies lying on the ground that were already dead, either through exhaustion or from the burning Thunderbolts of the Dark Magic that had broken through the Protection and burnt into the bodies that had dared to stand against it.

  “Merlin will not fail us,” Myfanwy told her father.

  “He is the Dark Child,” Gwydion replied his voice rasping with the effort of speaking. “But this is the Time of the Great Gathering of the Dark Magic. It may be that even Merlin cannot hold against this Force of Evil. This is their Greatest Gathering. Never before have they come in so great a number and with such strength. We need the Elder gods,” the High Druid said almost bitterly, “Either them or a miracle.”

  “Merlin will not desert us,” Myfanwy said her determination sounding strong in her voice.

  The Druid girl was aware that she was repeating herself but she was also fully aware that her father was nearing the end of his strength and needed to be given every encouragement to continue to fight.

  Myfanwy knew that if he faltered then the Spell of Protection would fall away completely and there would be no hope for any of them. The Druid girl knew that she must not let her father despair or lose hope. If that were to happen the Dark Magic would feed on their suffering and would draw more strength from them, even as they weakened.

  Myfanwy’s attention was taken by what sounded like the rasping of metal on metal but magnified a thousand times. It was certainly nothing, as she had hoped, of the Old Magic and she looked questioningly at her father.

  Gwydion too had heard the sound and the blood seemed to drain from the High Druid’s face.

  “What is it?” Myfanwy asked in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

  “It is the Gates of the Underworld,” her father told her. “They are bending with the Force of the Dark Lord’s Will. He intends to release his Army of Devils and Demons, his Army of the Dead onto the World of the Living and it is only the Gates of the Underworld that holds them back. If those Gates are bridged,” Gwydion told his daughter in a voice that carried all the Coldness of the Tomb with it, “Then there will be no hope for any of us in the Land of the Living.”

  “What can we do?” Myfanwy asked feeling as if all her blood had turned to ice.

  “We can do nothing,” Gwydion told her and his face was a mask of despair. “The Army of the Dead cannot be slain by any living hand. Only an Elder god would have that power and all the Elder gods have deserted us and left Avalon. They will not return for they have no interest or love for us anymore.”

  “Merlin is the son of a god,” Myfanwy felt that she was clutching at straws but her faith in the boy enchanter was unbreakable. “Surely he can do something.”

  Gwydion shook his head and Myfanwy felt that her father was on the point of admitting defeat.

  “Merlin will not fail us.”

  Myfanwy shouted out the words knowing just how important that it was that they all continued to believe in the boy enchanter.

  “We must earn him as much time as we can. We must not give up, father.”

  The Druid girl could see that her words had jolted her father back into a new determination. As tired as he was Gwydion straightened up and a burst of blue light shone out once more from his outstretched hands.

  For a moment Myfanwy’s heart leapt, now in spite of everything perhaps they had a chance.

  It was with a sinking feeling that she saw that the breaks in the Spell of Protection were being forced ever wider. Druids all around her were being burnt out of existence by the Thunderbolts of the Dark Magic.

  In the distance Myfanwy heard an enormous crash followed by what sounded like a thousand earthquakes.

  “That was the Gates to the Underworld,” her father told her and he looked tired and beaten. “The Dark Lord has thrown down the Gates to the Underworld and now there is nothing to prevent the Army of the Dead from swarming into our World.”

  “We do not give in,” Myfanwy said, “We do not give in, father. We fight for as long as we are alive – we do not and never will bow down and surrender to the Forces of the Dark Lord. If necessary you and I will die here but we do not surrender. The Dark Lord may tak
e our bodies but he shall not have our souls.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE BATTLE FOR AVALON

  Merlin stood in the protection of the Great Stones of Avalon.

  It was as if the boy was isolated from the chaos and fury that were building to a crescendo all around him. He was an oasis of calm in a sea of cacophony and seemed to be strangely detached.

  In fact for all his appearance of calm Merlin’s felt that his whole body was resonating with all that was breaking over and around him. This was not from fear but from a sense of destiny.

  Merlin knew that this was what he had been born to do. To fight the Dark Magic of the Dark Lord that sought to destroy and overrun the whole of the World of Men.

  Perhaps this was how his father had planned it, Merlin wondered, for the greatest of the Elder gods could see both into the Past and to the Future. It could have been that he had known that, one day, Avalon would have need of another defender and who better than the Elder god’s own son?

  Merlin hoped that this had not been the case, he liked to think that Mithras Invictus had truly fallen in love with his mother but there was so often a deeper purpose in the actions of gods. He knew that from the bitter experience of Queen Alona’s death.

  Whatever the truth of it was Merlin knew that this was his destiny and should he fail in his protection, Camelot, Avalon and eventually every living being would be wiped from the face of the Earth.

  The lands and seas that they had all loved so much and which had fed and nurtured Mankind from the very Beginning of Time would become just a part of the Burning Hell that the Dark Lord carried everywhere with him.

  It was only Merlin who saw the bigger picture. Merlin who saw that the struggle they were engaged in was for the very Survival of Mankind.

  Should he and his friends of the Old Magic lose then all the Fires of Hell and its demons and devils would be released to corrupt and destroy everything that had ever been Good and True in the World.

  At his side the boy enchanter saw or rather heard the clash of steel upon steel as Galahad and Sir Lauriston du Lac fought with every ounce of their skill and strength against the two giant warriors of the Dark who had been sent to kill the boy enchanter.

  The boy saw with some satisfaction that the Dark Warriors ran with black rivulets of whatever it was that served them for blood.

  Less welcome was the sight that these monstrosities did not seem to be tiring.

  Merlin also saw that blood was running down Sir Lauriston’s arm and onto his sword hilt from a very nasty looking cut high up on the big knight’s shoulder.

  Again Merlin watched as Galahad plunged his dagger deep into his opponent and although, the black ‘blood’ sprang out in a fountain from the wound, it did not seem to deter the demon who merely attacked the boy warrior with renewed vigour.

  The boy enchanter looked up to the skies over Avalon and saw that the Storm Clouds of the Dark had come ever closer and would soon be over the Great Stones themselves. Merlin had no doubt that he was the primary target for the Dark. The Dark Lord had obviously finally worked it out that as long as the boy enchanter lived it would always be hard, if not impossible, for him to bring his Dark Kingdom to the Earth.

  In the distance the boy could see bright flames leaping up high over Camelot. He knew that for all their stoic valour the Knights of Camelot would not and could not survive the onslaught that the four Riders of the Dark, the four Horseman of the Apocalypse, were bringing against them.

  Merlin knew that now was the Time that the Old Magic had to rise up in all its Fury against the Dark Forces before it and the World of Men would be lost forever.

  As if in confirmation of this he felt a great surge of the Old Magic. He knew that this came from far away across Avalon where Gwydion, Myfanwy and the rest of the Druids were bringing every ounce of their Strength and Power to aid the Raven Boy in this struggle.

  Merlin took a deep breath as if to steady himself and then called out in a voice that could have come from Mithras Invictus himself.

  “Now is your Time, you of the Old Magic. In the name of Mithras Invictus, Mithras the Unconquered, Mithras the Bull Slayer I call upon you. Now is your Time – SAVE CAMELOT – FIGHT FOR AVALON.”

  The reply was instantaneous as the Forces of the Old Magic swept down in an avenging wave against the Forces of the Dark.

  Draago and Firewing drove deep into the Storm Clouds of the Dark and Merlin could see the great swathes of fire that erupted from the dragon’s mouth as it twisted and turned seeking to burn every vestige of the Dark from its path. Draago also lashed out with his huge tail battering everything and anything that stood against him.

  Firewing too hurled himself into the Forces of the Dark using his mighty talons to rip and tear at all that stood against him.

  There was a mighty crash as Stormrider and his Unicorns threw themselves deep into the Forces of the Dark Magic. The Unicorns used their razor sharp horns with terrible effect and also trampled, with hooves that were as hard and as sharp as steel, any vestige of the Dark that they could find.

  Merlin realised that it was the first time that he had ever seen a unicorn fight or engage in battle. They were a shy and peaceful race who preferred to be rarely seen and to keep their own company. This World of War would most certainly not be theirs by choice.

  In the Defence of the Old Magic and the World of Men the unicorns had become fearsome killing machines that would give no quarter to the Dark Lord and his demons from Hell.

  It was then that Kraak and the Raven Kind swooped down upon the Forces of the Dark like a swarm of black locusts.

  Being twice the size of any ordinary raven the Raven Kind too could bring great destruction to a battle. They were the Assassins of the Skies darting into the Dark Magic and striking hard with razor-sharp beaks before pulling away to gather themselves for their next attack.

  The battle continued to rage all around Merlin with a noise and ferocity that had never been heard in Avalon or even in the World of Men before.

  The boy enchanter’s attention was dragged, once more, away from the Skies of Avalon to the battle that was being fought immediately alongside him.

  The demonic Dark Warriors had renewed their efforts to reach the boy enchanter for they were fully aware that with his death so would the struggle be lost to the Old Magic and all that stood with it.

  “I am here, Merlin,” the boy heard Galapas’ voice ring out loud and clear over the cacophony of noise and death that raged all around him.

  The boy saw Camelot’s High Mage lift his arms so that great streams of fire and magic flowed from every part of his body. Galapas’ enchantment seemed to ball itself into a fist and punch its way up into the Storm Clouds of the Dark leaving a dark and ragged tear in its wake.

  Merlin looked at the man who had been his guardian, tutor and friend for all his life. With a shock the boy realised just how old the High Mage was looking these days but even so there was defiance and determination written in every line of Galapas’ face.

  “I never doubted it, Galapas,” he told the High Mage with great affection.

  For a moment Galapas dropped his arms and looked around at the carnage that lay over and above the Great Stones.

  “Where’s Kraak?” Galapas’ breath came out in harsh fierce breaths and Merlin realised just how hard this attack of the Dark Lord had been on his friends.

  For the first time the boy wondered how many of them would survive this day.

  “He leads the Raven Kind,” Merlin replied in answer to the High Mage’s question. “Wherever the fighting is the fiercest, that’s where you will find Kraak,” the boy added knowing that he spoke the truth for the courage of the king of the Raven Kind was legendary.

  “And Grim?” Galapas asked.

  Looking around Merlin realised that the ghoul was not stood in the Great Stones anymore.

  It was only to be expected, he thought, but even so he was disappointed for he had expected more from Grim.


  “I don’t know,” Merlin said trying to make light of the ghoul’s disappearance. “Probably hiding.”

  As if in answer the High Mage once more spread his arms wide and fire poured from him again into the constantly approaching Forces of the Dark.

  Merlin saw with a sinking heart that, for all the bravery and resolve of the Creatures of the Old Magic, they were barely holding the Forces of the Dark Lord at bay.

  In spite of the courage of the Unicorns, the Raven Kind, Draago and Firewing the Storm Clouds of the Dark were still rolling menacingly across the Plains of Avalon.

  Above the sounds of battle Merlin was certain that he could hear the screams from the men, women and children who were dying in their hundreds in Camelot where the Four Horsemen were now wreaking a terrible and unearthly havoc.

  With dismay the boy saw that although Galahad and the bloodied Sir Lauriston du Lac were still battling hard against the huge demonic Warriors of the Dark they were steadily losing ground as the demons tried desperately to fight their way to the boy enchanter.

  For the first time Merlin realised that this was a battle that he and the Old Magic might well lose and that thought brought a chill to his blood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE GATES TO THE UNDERWORLD

  The Gates to the Underworld that was termed as Hell were falling away.

  The Dark Lord could see that quite plainly and he knew with great satisfaction that the day he had anticipated for so long was not just coming but was already here. He was certain of that.

  The huge being that was the Overlord of the Underworld put back his head and roared with demonic exultation. The fires that ran all over his body reared up burning fiercely as if in answer to their master’s cry.

  This was his Time, the Time of the Greatest Gathering of the Dark and the Dark Magic and it was good.