Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  And I couldn’t save him, I tried. It was no good. It couldn’t be broken. And then this woman, Morgause, she-”

  Balinor’s expression faltered, concern morphing into a moment of alarm.

  “-Morgause.”

  Gazing over to his father, Merlin narrowed his eyes in confusion.

  “Yes. Who is she father?”

  Grimacing, Balinor cast a glance to a fearful Hunith before clutching his son by the shoulder.

  “We need to talk son.”

  ♦☼♦

  “Many years ago,” Balinor began, voice laced in something Merlin was too weary to try and identify.

  It had been a long, defeating day in the other world. The dark veil of the night had wrapped its blanket of sparkling diamonds around Albion, twinkling beautifully above where the pair sat on a rock beside Beorhtne*; the mesmerising lake a few miles from Ealdor. Merlin observed as a striking white Rocus – a smaller, and far more passive bird presumed by many to originate from the giant Roc – gliding with supreme elegance, creating an alluring rippling effect across the water. Smiling lightly, Merlin felt guilt smother his body. Today had been the day he’d seen things he never could have imagined in his darkest nightmares. He was unaware of just how cruel humanity could be- until today.

  Worst of all, he had abandoned Gaius, left him there to suffer under the hands of the man he had been friends with for his whole life: Uther Pendragon. Scrunching his fists into balls over his knees, Merlin bowed his head, inhaling a sharp intake of breath. Realising his father had stopped talking, he lifted his gaze to the man. Balinor gently smoothed a palm over Merlin’s shoulder, and then continued.

  “...Morgause was part of the Ealdor druid clan once.” He mused, eyes averting to admire the night sky.

  Tearing his head away from the sight of the Rocus on the lake, Merlin narrowed his eyes sceptically. He could sense his father’s apprehension- his father was never worried. In fact, Balinor was renowned for his calm composure; it was what made him a great leader.

  “How come I’ve never heard of her until now?” he asked inquisitively, scanning his father’s face for any clues.

  Smiling with a poignancy Merlin could not understand, Balinor met his son’s curious sapphire eyes.

  “She was brilliant at magic son, brilliant.” Sigh. “But she was vindictive, manipulative. When she took the liberty to enter that world, we all knew it was too late.”

  Twisting his lips, Merlin picked up a pebble by his feet delicately. For a moment, he wondered if it was appropriate to mention what he had been told by Morgause in the lab, or if he should keep it to himself. After turning the stone around in his palm four times, Merlin’s skewed lips unfastened themselves, and the pebble returned to its resting place.

  “She said…she said that nobody came to help her. Is that true?”

  “NO.” Balinor animatedly retorted. The Rocus hovering over the lake flew off hastily at the sudden shout. He made a move to stand up but somehow managed to channel his evident anger. Flinching a little in surprise, Merlin pursed his lips once more, a little annoyed the Rocus had gone – it was somewhat comforting to watch something enjoying the gift of nature without counterfeit.

  “She’s a liar. We sent many druids out to help her, she betrayed us. She turned them all in, killed them.”

  Eyes wide, Merlin gaped in shock at this statement. Raising a hand to his tousled hair, he dove a hand into it, trying to put the pieces together about this Morgause woman. But she was more enigmatic than ever before now all this newfound knowledge was being bombarded his way. Drawing his eyebrows together, Merlin sighed.

  “What…I don’t…” why would a druid do that to another druid? “…I don’t understand father.”

  Balinor shook his head slowly, and bought a hand to his dark beard.

  “When Morgause left Albion, she saw what Uther was doing to the druids. She pledged allegiance to him, using her magic to help those who hated it.”

  It didn’t take Merlin long to establish what had really happened in that lab. Morgause, she worked in the laboratory. She must have been responsible for turning Gaius in to Uther Pendragon. And yet, she too had magic. Blinking rapidly to avoid tears, Merlin bit his lip fearfully. What was she doing to him now? Who else would she turn in? He wondered for a second about the blonde dollophead he’d met in the elevator, Arthur Pendragon. Did he care about the druids who went to his father’s labs? Would he continue this callous policy when he took over the company? Judging by his attitude towards druids in the elevator – and the fact he was a complete idiot – Merlin assumed the good-looking male would no doubt follow in those footsteps, continue to destroy the trust and respect each race once had for each other.

  And yet, the one person who apparently could change it all was Emrys…this supernatural being everybody believed Merlin was. It was ridiculous. Yes, his magic was undeniably powerful – he stopped time for twenty seconds when he was just two – but that did not mean that he was the mighty savoir of the druids. There had been no true affirmation for Merlin personally that he was Emrys, or that he could ever live up to the great prophecy shadowing over his attempt at normalcy. Grinding his teeth together dismally, Merlin picked up the pebble he’d found earlier.

  “…before I left.” He said, gently smoothing a finger over the stone. “She told me a storm was coming. What does that mean?”

  Merlin recalled the icy tone of her voice, the piercing intense gaze she delivered as she said those words. It sounded far from a simple meteorological phenomenon; in fact it almost resembled a threat. The kind of threat that wasn’t empty- it was full of a menacing promise and an overwhelming prophetic undertone. The expression on his father’s face signalled that he had perhaps said something wrong, or opened a new gateway of thoughts. Those soft, brown eyes hardened into rock, the grimace plastered across those tightened lips far from comforting. Studying Balinor’s shift in behaviour, Merlin swallowed-hard, awaiting the answer to his question. But nothing could have prepared him for the severity of his father’s next words.

  “I fear it means that Albion is no longer safe from the outside world.”

  Scoffing instantly at that, Merlin shook his head in avid denial. No. Albion, it was their home, their world. It was protected. It was-

  “-It’s protected by magic father, by the Naiimen Barrier**. They can’t even see this land.”

  Balinor merely observed his son’s intensified features, and pensively clasped his hands together above his knees. The words that escaped that wise mouth angered the young druid further.

  “…Times change, people change.”

  Times change, people change. Merlin almost screamed at the sound of those words, that stupid saying. He’d heard it enough times today, in all sorts of contexts. Throwing the pebble into the lake forcefully, Merlin hugged his knees in aggravation.

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” he noticed his father’s hands twitching a little, and narrowed his eyes. His magic instantaneously picked up on the shift in his father’s attitude. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  The straight-forward, direct question was met with a laboured sigh, gesturing that there was something Balinor was keeping secret. Releasing his knees, Merlin titled his head, eyes firm. His father was not the kind to keep secrets, particularly from his own son – future leader of the clan. If there was something hidden from him, Merlin knew it had to be extremely…brushing the negative adjectives hurling around his brain away, the raven-haired boy watched his father stand.

  “Gaius left Albion to keep track of Morgause and what was happening in Camelot Enterprise. Each night, he was ordered to report back to the clan what was going on.”

  Out of all of this, Merlin picked up on one thing. Raising his head, he clenched a fist by his side.

  “Who ordered him?” he spat, a small dangerous growl threatening to erupt from inside his chest.

  His magic, his magic was furious at the notion that somebody had sent Gaius into that world. He had
been putting himself in harm’s way everyday even more than Merlin could have ever imagined. Merlin didn’t need his father to answer because he knew the answer. Getting to his feet, he turned his back on Balinor, hand pressed to his lips.

  “Me, I regret to say-“

  “-How dare you.” Merlin whispered, the trees around him rocked to the melancholic beating of his heart.

  A wave of unprecedented nausea smothered his body. His father was the reason Gaius was now in captivity. Closing his eyes for a moment, Merlin exhaled slowly, in order to try and regulate his breathing. Finally, he spun around to face his father, face swathed in hurt.

  “How could you-“

  “-Merlin listen to me...”

  Reaching for his son quickly, Balinor firmly placed a hand on his shoulder. Merlin didn’t struggle, he gazed into his father’s eyes resignedly. This whole day had been full of disappointment. Person after person he’d met, all were exactly the same. When he noticed his father’s eyes flashing with fear, Merlin clocked back into his surroundings, allowing himself to fully focus on the words rushing through his ears.

  “…Five nights ago, Gaius told me that Camelot Enterprise had built a machine with the help of Morgause, which could disable the Naiimen barrier.”

  Staggering backwards in horror at the notion of such a thing, Merlin felt his own body tremor with fear. Fear. That was the first thing the mighty Emrys felt about this all – fear. Morgause’s words finally made sense. They - Camelot– they were coming to Albion. A horrible feeling wretched inside his gut. He needed no confirmation of this, it was true – the deepest essence of his magic was tingling with anxiety. Camelot had been using the druids, extracting their magic to build something that would destroy the safe-haven of Albion forever. Merlin knew what they had done to their earth, stripped it bare greedily, cut down its forests, depleted its minerals and soils, overworked its body. The thought of them coming here and doing the same – an unfamiliar frenzy spread over him. This couldn’t happen. No matter what. He would stop this. He’d have to.

  “Does…does mum know?” he choked out bleakly, glancing over at his father who held the same morbid expression.

  “Merlin-”

  “-Does she know?” he repeated despondently, bowing his head.

  Merlin heard his father take a few steps closer towards him.

  “You and I are the only souls in Ealdor, and probably the only souls in Albion who know.”

  Meeting his father’s eyes vacantly, Merlin tried to process everything that had just been said. Albion was no longer protected, they were coming, and only he and his father knew anything about it.

  “You kept this to yourself.” Merlin thought aloud. “you didn’t tell anyone.” Selfish was the word that emanated between his tone.

  Miles away, other clans could have been making preparations for their arrival or migrating somewhere Camelot would most likely leave untouched. What would they do with the druids? Wincing at the images flickering through his mind, Merlin clamped his eyes shut.

  “I couldn’t Merlin, I still can’t – don’t you understand? Albion is all the druids know, all the druids love. You mustn’t tell a soul.”

  Opening his eyes, Merlin nodded solemnly. Generally, he was a bad liar. But when it came to things of great importance, things that would change everything, he sacrificed his own feelings and replaced it with the bigger picture. His father was right. If anybody found out about this, there would be panic. Druids would be distraught. It seemed only fair to let the relish in the tranquillity of Albion before the monsters arrived.

  “When do you think they’ll arrive?”

  “Soon. From what Gaius told me, they plan to establish a base near Serepolis and then work from there a few months after-“

  Serepolis, Freya’s home - that was close to Ealdor, and Dresdentian.

  “-Freya.” Merlin sighed, who knew how hostile they would be when they arrived. What if they tried to harm them? They no doubt would try to hurt her nocturnal state. Then his mind drifted to an old companion Gilli, who now lived right on the Western coastline. Then other names flooded his mind. Aglain, Swrenick, Olian, Regan, Khara, Will, Gwen, father, mother. All of his loved ones, all of his friends. They would all be affected by this, wherever they were. He gazed imploringly at his father.

  “What do they want?”

  Shaking his head in dismay, Balinor grimaced.

  “Land? Power? Magic? Whatever it is, they’re not going to take our homeland from us without a fight.”

  “But we are peaceful people, all the druids are.” Merlin replied, though in reality, he could feel himself already willing to comply with his father’s rather human words and vanquish Camelot.

  Laughing fondly, Balinor lifted a hand to Merlin’s hair and ruffled it playfully.

  “I taught you well son.”

  The pair had promptly agreed silently it was time to move on from the subject of doom and gloom, and the end the conversion in their usual light-hearted manner. Merlin was one of these people who constantly tried to overlook seriousness and replace it with humour. This was an opportune moment. Nudging Merlin gently, Balinor smiled genuinely.

  “Rest. Tomorrow you have druids to teach, Wyverns to tame.”

  Rolling his eyes, Merlin felt his shoulders slump at the thought of his daily duties.

  “I joyously await the next sunrise.” He replied sarcastically, a coy smile seeping onto his face.

  Balinor’s smile faded, and he patted his son on the back gently, gesturing for them to leave the lake. Taking one final glance at the serene, sparkling waters, Merlin then turned on his heel, heading towards the dark forest.

  “Son,” Balinor said when they had climbed substantially high enough into the canopy to avoid the predators of the night below. “you know I wouldn’t have kept any of this from you unless I had to.”

  Grabbing a vine ahead, Merlin shrugged.

  “I know.”

  Swinging elegantly on the vine to the next tree, Merlin tossed it back to his father who followed swiftly.

  “What are you going to do about Gaius father?” he asked as his father walked behind him on the mossy tree.

  “I hope that when Camelot Enterprise set up base here, they’ll take him too. He’s valuable, he knows a lot.” he paused. “If not, we’ll find out what they want. Negotiate.” Merlin gazed back to his father. “Like the peaceful people we are.”

  They made it back to Ealdor in silence. It wasn’t until they had jumped off the last tree and made it to the settlement that Merlin burst anxiously, the thoughts stirring his mind no longer able to retain them.

  “What if negotiating isn’t enough?” he scanned cautiously around to ensure nobody was eavesdropping. Lowering his voice for good measure, Merlin frowned. “It’s Gaius!”

  “Always so determined Merlin.” Balinor muttered gently. Kissing his son’s forehead gently, he caressed the hollow cheekbones. “We will get Gaius back. But right now, you need to sleep.”

  Taking a step back from Merlin, he nodded passively.

  “Ic æalá ðu.”

  Meeting his father’s eyes for a moment, Merlin pressed a hand to his heart, bowing his head obediently at the sacred words. His magic hummed at the honesty radiating from these simple words. For a split second, his world was full of nothing but magic, family, friends and serenity.

  “Ic æalá ðu.”

  And then it was all gone, replaced with a blackening void.

  Albion was no longer safe.

  Chapter 4

  The conference room was a place Camelot Enterprise deployed regularly. It was normal occurrence to be called into a meeting. However, in this particular situation, the meeting had been scheduled a mere hour beforehand, and revealed to only four people via an email that was marked as high priority. The thought of it made the blonde’s hands a little clammy. Arthur Pendragon was sure this had to mean that something terrible had happened, because his father rarely ever used the high priority on emails, and confere
nces were never usually held with this… mixture of people. Scrolling through the names, Arthur held a hand to his chin inquisitively. Morgana, Leon, Cedric (he rolled his eyes at that name), Valiant (that one too, twat) and himself. They were all key people in the business, yet their positions were contrasting.

  The fact that Uther had copied Morgause into the email made it even more of a mystery – she dealt with all the Magical related stuff, working in the labs for most of the time. Arthur had recalled seeing her icy eyes only a handful of times, her piercing fierce stare was not one anybody could easily forget.

  Shutting off his laptop, Arthur frowned. The day couldn’t have gotten any more stressful than it had already. There had been some kind of disturbance in the laboratory two weeks ago, the day he’d met that infuriating John Smith, and he had no doubt whatsoever that Morgana had somehow put the scrawny, ridiculous man up to trying something suicidal down there. Naturally, even though Arthur had nothing to do with the Lab projects, he was given all the paperwork for said incident. It had taken one week alone to plough through the substantial messy pile of folders, and try to piece together a story that wasn’t ambiguous and blatantly fake. But that was easier said than done, particularly as Arthur himself did not know what had happened, and nobody would tell him.

  Then there was Morgana, who was adamant in protesting that she had nothing to do with the appearance of this ‘John Smith’. This, of course, was a stupid lie because it had her fingerprints all over it. Then he’d had to deal with Gwaine’s gloating - the constant teasing that he knew John Smith’s real name. Arthur knew he would never reveal it, which simply aggravated him more. Gwaine had started calling Arthur ‘dollophead’ because apparently it was hilarious. Grinding his teeth together in frustration, Arthur stood from his office chair and glanced down at his watch; five minutes until this unexpected meeting was to take place. He pulled his black suit jacket over his shoulders, exiting the office in a brisk walk, dispelling ‘John Smith’ from his mind.

  As he turned left down a new corridor, he found himself graced with the presence of the familiar raven-haired woman. She was wearing her famous black dress, the one that put Arthur in charge of scolding the perverse wandering eyes she received from almost everybody. It wasn’t even that short, knee length or slightly lower, but it flattered her body marvellously. Morgana titled her head towards him assertively, adjusting her scarlet glasses whilst walking beside him. Acknowledging her gesture, he frowned. He really was not in the mood to listen to one of her opinionated speeches or deal with her antics.