The Brotherhood of Merlin

by Rory D Nelson

  Sylvia clings to her sister like a magnet during the assault, which only enrages Jason further. Jason smacks Sylvia in the head, knocking her loose of her sister. Adele screams in vehement protest, but Jason will not relent. Sylvia tries once again to intervene, but she is stopped from Adele. “Tell your little wench to sit down, lest I rape the two of you together!”

  “Sylvia, go and sit down. I must take my beating, so I must.” Adele says with stinging tears in her eyes. Sylvia cries hysterically, but she reluctantly turns around and sits down, curling up in a fetal position and sobbing deep inhalations as her body rocks from side to side. Seeing her sister in such distress is more painful than any beatings Jason could inflict upon her. She hopes her sister will not be pushed to a state of catatonia again. She might not be able to return from the abyss if she is pushed into it again.

  Adele’s mind turns to the butterfly knife Simon given her, but she tries to push such thoughts from her mind. Her sister’s life would be forfeit if she attempted such a foolish deed.

  With Sylvia no longer a nuisance, Jason grabs Adele by the hair and throws her down on the ground. He jumps on top of her and begins to pummel her repeatedly. He kisses her and bites her nipples until he hears her piercing screams. He bites deep and tastes the metallic blood that seeps out, laughing at her screams.

  He turns his attention to Sylvia. “We shall give your sis a bit of show, Ai?” He takes her face and presses it against his own and looks at Sylvia with a salacious glean. “Hey, little one. You ready for a good show? Ha Ha Ha!” She will not look in his direction and this infuriates him. “Sylvia? Come see your sis engaged in some haughty business. You ken?” Still, she is unresponsive and does not look at him.

  “Perhaps if your sis were the recipient of my affection, then she might pay me some respects. What say you, Adele, shall we make this a family affair?” He laughs sardonically. Adele can tolerate no more. At the implication of her sister’s rape, she reacts capriciously. In one swift move, she grabs the butterfly knife, pulling it open and plunges the knife into his cock with all her might.

  She plunges the knife in, all the way to the hilt, impaling his cock and balls. Stopping just short of his asshole. He whales in agonizing torment, throwing her off him. He grabs his tender genitals and tries to release the knife as gingerly as possible. He finds the release mechanism and pushes it in. The knife slips back into its holster chamber, emitting more excruciating pain from Jason. He howls louder. Crimson stains his pantaloons.

  Adele runs towards her sister, but she is quickly seized by one of the guards, who awaits the King’s orders. Jason cries out. “Kill her! Kill her! Kill her now!” Without hesitation, the guard who seized her complies and plunges his sword into Adele. She topples over as blood flow gushes from her side. Within seconds, her dress turns to crimson. This brings Sylvia out of her catatonic stupor. She runs to her sister, crying hysterically. “Adele! Adele!”

  Adele looks at Sylvia tenderly as the life drains from her. Despite her imminent death, she appears to be peaceful and reassuring. “You will be safe little one. He will come for you, so he will.” Sylvia thinks her mad ramblings are simply the result of her delirium. She sobs hysterically and holds her sister’s hand.

  “Bring the little wench away from her sister.” A guard complies and forcefully takes Sylvia away, her iron gripped hands proves difficult to unclench. “Listen to me little one. Whether or not I can use my cock is no matter to you. Either way you will be the recipient of much fucking, I assure you! But first, you must witness the painful demise of your rescuer. You will see what happens to the enemies of the Visi-Gauls!”

  Chapter 22: The First Assault

  Germanicus notes it is Merlin’s shift to sleep, but the man opts for a trance instead. He sits inside a circle he hollowed out with a maulder, cross-legged, holding a rosary in one hand while twirling a coin in the other. The coin travels so fast through his fingers it appears to float of its own accord.

  Germanicus, knowing the leader’s propensity for illusion and preternatural speed, isn’t sure which it is. Is the coin traveling so fast through his fingers it appears to float or is the coin really floating, aided by Merlin’s telekinetic abilities? Germanicus knows whatever the reason for Merlin’s trance, it is an important one. He trusts him implicitly. They are on the verge of a battle which could only have one outcome - one side will be obliterated. Germanicus hopes the Brotherhood would be standing in the end.

  Merlin walks into a lush forest where amber petals, opaque blue lilacs, dark-green bougainvillea greet him. They almost seem to whisper conspiratorially with one another. The sky is an unnaturally and surreal orange/dark blue hue. In this world, he can see everything. It is peaceful. Mottled gray-black doves fly in an awe-inspiring sequence that seem to be controlled by some master conductor.

  They zig-zag at breakneck speeds in a perfect isosceles triangle, break sequence, draw back into formation, spreading out again in single file and then come together in a figure eight.

  It is mesmerizing, mathematical and other-worldly. This is the transitional world of the dead, a place where the recently deceased and those with the gifts of supernatural trance can meet. The place is always bitter-sweet for Merlin.

  This was a place of peaceful contemplation where thoughts of the physical world melt away and pervasive happiness abound. But, it is also a place where the recently departed souls transition to the after-life. Some benevolent soul recently perished and wished to send a message to Merlin.

  She is here now, a recently departed soul whose life was prematurely ended, a tragic death. She would inevitably ascend; but the thought tugs painfully on his heartstrings and he is unable to stifle the tears that cascade down his cheeks.

  As Merlin rounds a switchback through the forest, he sees her in all her resplendent glory- red, supple lips, milky-white, flawless, porcelain skin, gorgeous blue-green eyes of an almost preternatural hue, ample bosom that clings tightly to a paisley, camisole blouse, a modest green skirt which hides equally impressive attributes.

  To Merlin’s preternatural eyes, the skirt is see-through, and he briefly takes notice, but not in a wanton way. This is not a place where sexual fantasies are fulfilled. Like the Brotherhood’s meditation chamber, this place is sacrosanct. She appears to glide effortlessly towards him.

  In this world, knowledge reverberates throughout the forest, seemingly in whispers. But it is considered rude to extract thoughts from someone you only recently met, so they speak. She is the first. “You are the one they call Merlin.”

  “I am. You are Adele.”

  “Tis so.”

  He senses she left someone behind and he suspects a family member who needs her now. He is naturally empathetic. “I am sorry for your loss. You are beautiful in every way. You will ascend. Of this I have no doubt.”

  She approaches him until she is only inches from him, kisses his cheek, and wipes away the tears. “I will ascend. I know. My thoughts are with someone I left behind. She is my sister and she is with the loathsome King of the Visi-Gauls. He will accompany her to his master tent while your Brotherhood are in the midst of your assault. You must protect her. She has been defiled and her innocence lost. You must find her at all costs and seek to restore her innocence. You are the only one who can accomplish this task, for you are the chosen one.” In deference to Adele, Merlin bows on one knee and kisses her hand. “Set your mind and warrant it done. I will find your ken. Twill be so, my lady.”

  “Rise, Knight.” Merlin does and as he does, she kisses his cheek once more. Merlin looks into her eyes and sees vivid details of the encampment where she had been slain. In a clearing above a ridgeline east of the River Krane, Jason’s army prepares for their next invasion, oblivious to the assault is being planned on them from the Brotherhood.

  As he continues to look into Adele’s eyes, the figure dissipates slowly until it is gone completely. Still in his trance, Merlin grabs his mathematical Braille pad and begins to calculate the coordinate
s of the master tent. Sixteen other tents would be destroyed, but the master tent will be spared. Merlin must venture there to confront the King. Of this, he has no doubt.

  Germanicus stares in awe at Merlin, as Merlin picks up his mathematical Braille pad and begins to write feverishly. It is astonishing how fast the man can write in a trance. Germanicus envies Merlin’s hands. He himself, is a gifted and deadly speed-shooter.

  Merlin is in a class by himself. His ability to use his hands in other disciplines with such speed and dexterity is boundless. In less than five minutes, Merlin fills up a Braille pad with mathematical coordinates. He picks up another piece of parchment paper, sets it on the Braille pad and begins to write again.

  In the few seconds that Germanicus looks away, Merlin emerges from his trance, stands up and approaches Germanicus. It catches Germanicus off-guard and he becomes startled when seeing his leader suddenly standing in front of him. Although it is a common occurrence, it never ceases to startle the Dotore. His eyes briefly dilate to twice their size and he reflexively steps back.

  “Merlin, for God’s sake, you scared the piss out of me.”

  Merlin is a stickler for King’s speech and is quick to give a reprimand when his brothers use unsavory language. “Germanicus, how uncouth of you. I hope for our recruits’ sake, you do not engage in such base exchange on a regular basis.”

  “I cry your pardon, Merlin. You took me by great surprise. And trust me when I tell you you are the only one who cozens me to such language.”

  Merlin smiles coyly, a look that could have disarmed the vilest of miscreants. “Well received, Dotore.” Almost as quickly, Merlin’s expression changes from one of frivolity to a somber countenance. “I have something to show you.”

  “Another one of your surprises, perhaps?”

  “Something akin.” Merlin and Germanicus venture to the thicket where the trove of deadly arsenal is concealed. As it was dark, Germanicus can’t see a thing, not until Merlin ventures deep into the thicket with his lantern, revealing several granado charges. The charges are a volatile mixture of deadly methane and propane gases. When mixed together, combustible charge is produced. A friction rod is tightly wound into the glass chamber. If the friction rod were to be expelled, it would create enough friction to produce a tiny fire.

  The expulsion of the friction rod would also break the two glass vials of volatile gas mixture, causing an explosion after several seconds. Merlin had indeed thought of everything.

  “Granado charges, Merlin? There is at least a dozen here, maybe more.”

  “Does that make you feel more confident?”

  “Ai. But I’ve always had confidence in you, Merlin.”

  “We will use the geography to our advantage. Look at the plateaus, numerous narrow switchbacks and dogleg trails. This makes it impossible for a large army to adequately spread out. When we do engage them, we will gun them down as we would a small group. It will be impossible for them to cluster around us and outflank us. “

  “And you kept us in the dark about this? When were you planning to tell us?”

  “I am only telling you, Germanicus. I know how worried you’ve been, but you must trust me implicitly. I was hoping to allay your fears. You are my second. When the others see that sparkle of hope in your eyes, they may dismiss their deepest fears as well. You ken?”

  “We do trust you, Merlin. But you must understand this is the most lopsided battle we have ever fought. Nine thousand men against ten. It will test all of our mettle. If we must follow you to our deaths, then we will do it.”

  “I have faith in all of you, old friend. Put your faith in me now. Some day we will go to our deaths in the name of a righteous cause, but that day is not upon us. And, after today, there will be no doubts about who the leader is. I am Merlin.”

  “That you are, Brother.” They embrace as is their custom with forearms firmly grasping onto each other and a partial hug. It is the embrace of the Brotherhood.

  Germanicus returns to his duties of loading the ballistas on the oxenules. The Brethren can’t help but to notice his positive disposition and hopefulness. Though specific titles are not bestowed on members of the Brotherhood, except for The Merlin and Germanicus’ title of Dotore. It is nevertheless accepted by the Brethren that Germanicus is second in command and as such, he had a naturally close relationship with their leader, Merlin.

  “You’ve been away for a while, Germanicus, and you look hopeful to boot. Is there any information the rest of us grunts should know about?” asks Syrus playfully.

  “Well, you know our leader’s propensity for surprises, do you ken?”

  “Ai. That I do.”

  Germanicus clasps Syrus on the back. “When the time comes, you will all be privy, so quiet your mind and set warrant to watch. The only ones who should be worried are the ones who are oblivious to their own imminent demise, and that is not us.”

  Germanicus says this with such a rigidly determined disposition. It leaves no room for refuting. Syrus’ misgivings are immediately quelled. Syrus smiles. “Ai. That it will.” The remaining Brethren had similar misgivings of their own; but upon seeing the most worry prone member hopeful, they sigh in relief.

  For the next two hours, Merlin rides over a 16-hectare radius, setting up the granado charges. He attaches them to numerous trip wires that are easily obscured throughout the rocky ridge. Merlin makes a mental note of each granado charge, so he will not inadvertently set them off. He will lead the group himself around the obstacle course, ensuring a safe path.

  Like clockwork, the Brethren finish their preparations for the initial attack. The ballistas are in order and ready to be set off.

  The Brethren arrive at the Eukrades River in view of the three Lude Block towers just before dawn. This will be a perfect time to attack as they can work in relative obscurity. A pervasive fog further hampers the ability to see clearly. Merlin will be attacking after Syrus dispatches the soldiers manning the towers, so the ability to see is inconsequential anyway.

  Advantageous conditions will be serving them well. It will be the first assault of many, one disrupts their communication lines.

  As to be expected, the Lude Block Towers are manned continuously. The men who are there will likely have been there through the night. They are the low men on the totem pole, having to man the watch during the dead of night, while other soldiers enjoy the less hospitable diurnal shifts. Interruption of their sleep patterns will fatigue them and slow their reflexes, which the Brethren would be more than happy to capitalize on.

  Merlin pulls out his hyper-oculars and gives it to Syrus. He will be initiating the assault as he attempts to kill every one of the guards in the towers. That is not the worst of it. He will be attempting to take the three guards simultaneously.

  He accomplished the shot many times before, but never from such a distance. And yet, the man is not the least bit nervous. Syrus has the steadiest hands of the bunch next to Merlin of course. He can hold his hand dead steady for several minutes and his vision is superior among the group. He will need to call on his considerable skill now.

  The other Brethren crouch down in the grass. Syrus pulls three arrows from his bowsman paquette and places them in their respective channels. It is a cumbersome task, considering he is in a crouched position. To avoid being seen, he needs to rise on his knees at the last possible second. If he is lucky, he will get about thirty seconds to line up his targets before he is discovered by the men in the towers.

  Savelle, the other hawk-eye of the group, looks through the hyper-oculars and observes the men in the guard towers.

  “Syrus, the men are looking away. Rise up now.” Syrus rises up quickly on his haunches and lines up his sites. Each channel is connected to a pinwheel that can be manipulated by a screw on the base of the bow. Syrus carefully moves the screw to line up his sites. There can be no room for error at this distance. If he misses, their initial assault will be foiled.

  Sweat trickles down Savelle’s furrowed brow a
nd he begins to breathe in raspy tones. He is actually more nervous than Syrus. “Hurry Syrus. The guards are beginning to look in this direction.” Terror grips him for what seems like minutes, though it is only seconds. One of the guards in the tower observes Syrus. He is using his own hyper-oculars. From this great distance, Savelle observes the man is desperately scrambling for something. Perhaps it is a flare, a whistle or his own pistol. There is no doubt. He will alert the others.

  Savelle is about to cry out in mortal fear when Syrus unleashes the deadly arrows. They move through the air with a pin-point accuracy, hitting their targets. The guard who attempts to grab a flare is abruptly stopped when an arrow pierces his neck, impaling him through the opposite wall of the tower. Blood flows in crimson spurts and his body convulses briefly and then stops.

  The other two arrows find their marks in the head and neck of the two other guards manning the towers. The force of the arrows is so great all three soldiers are impaled to the wall of the tower, ending their lives. They have no time to react.

  Savelle sighs deeply in relief. “Well done, Syrus!”

  “You doubted me?”

  “Only nervous of what failure would have meant, Brother.” He says, as he clasps him on the back.

  Merlin is quick to bring the group back to the task at hand. “We can congratulate ourselves when this is over. We have much to do. Germanicus, take your team to the Western edge of their encampment. Set the charges and the traps. Atticus, take your men to a clandestine position above the ridgeline of the river. Lie in wait for the riders to approach, then kill them quietly. Shadow and I will run point along the Eukrades. And Syrus, you served us well. We are well met.”

  “Ai. That we are.”

  “We reconvene at Briar Hill. Go.” The others comply and move with quiet haste. Merlin loads up the numerous daggers he will need for his assault. He estimates there are about thirty men near the Eukrades River. He must eliminate them all. Merlin removes his Abolene petticoat and puts it aside. He needs to reach the numerous pockets where his daggers are kept, and the jacket will interfere with his reach. He does take his knapsack which carries Vangelis’ obscuring paintings. He also carries his own bow and arrow pouch.