by GR Griffin
The whole druid clan had been instantly silenced. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Not even the trees moved with the agitated breeze. Everything seemed frozen, stuck in a mesh of betrayal, confusion and torment which tangled itself around the air. Merlin barely managed to turn his head away from Arthur, pushing against the heavy air slowly, hands shaking. Then everything got stuck like that. Arthur bit his lip, feeling the thickness of the oxygen passing into his lungs; it was cold, and congested his airways as opposed to helping him breathe. Slowly, he felt himself suffocated in the mesh, betrayal latching onto his throat intensely. Despite trying to move, wanting to reach a hand out to Merlin, he found he could not. He was stood in a tabloid of his worst nightmare. He could see the frozen looks of grief on people’s faces, the confused expressions of the children, the despair in all of those eyes.
Merlin violently broke the tabloid, spinning back around to face Arthur. As he did, everything suddenly exploded. The druids reacted, many breaking into panic and becoming flustered, or staring bleakly at the man they had trusted. Merlin pushed Arthur backwards forcefully, eyes glowing gold with vigour. The trees around rocked frantically; the wind scraped its sharp nails against the blonde’s face, hissing at him.
“You…you KNEW this would happen!” Merlin roared, voice deep and deadly. The clouds above dramatically darkened, booming in agreement.
Despite the meteorological warfare raging against him- even the earth hated him - Arthur calmly replied. He was afraid if he met Merlin with a raised voice he’d lose his chance to make amends forever- although it already seemed too late for any reconciliation.
“I…knew this would happen.” He responded mechanically, droplets of rain spat in his face in revulsion. “From the very start. I admit my father made his intentions clear-”
A blinding flash of lightening tore through the skies.
“-No. How could you?” The other man interjected, druids watching the scene latched onto his emotions, eyes dimming at the false hope they had foolishly believed. “I trusted you! You’re one of them-“
At this accusation, Arthur’s motionless, robotic state became animated. The emotions bottled inside exploded through his veins. Panic flashed through his eyes. He couldn’t lose Merlin, he couldn’t. He lost so much already. Reaching for Merlin, Arthur fought against the treacherous wind punching his gut. The rain pelted his face as he desperately grabbed Merlin’s shoulders.
“NoI’mnot,I’mnotI…” he whispered frenziedly, his voice raised in dynamic suddenly. “Everything changed. It all changed when I met you and you taught me the ways of your people. I have grown to love and cherish everything the druids stand for and I-”
Tearing himself from Arthur’s grip, Merlin gritted his teeth, pacing backwards.
“NO.” Tears began to slip from his eyes. The wind stilled. The rain faltered. It seemed the powerful Emrys was not able to sustain such magic under emotional strain. Emotional strain –Arthur had caused this.
“You knew all along.” Clasping a hand to his mouth, Merlin clamped his eyes shut, inhaling a huge amount of air to counteract the water-works which were about to erupt. The past six months, Arthur Pendragon had been lying. That was what hurt so much, that he had been keeping this dark secret for so long. To think Merlin had fallen in love with him. the downfall of his kind- it was traumatising.
“I’m so sorry-” Arthur choked through his own fresh tears, knowing it wasn’t enough, an apology could never be enough.
“-You bastard!” Another voice screamed, pushing through the crowds defiantly. Arthur knew who that deadly voice belonged to before he could register their face. Defenceless, a beam of blue light hit him directly in the chest, hauling him sadistically into the tree trunk a few metres behind. Yelping at the collision, Arthur gazed up to see a furious Will leaning over him, fist held in the air no doubt about to cause some damage to his face. Will was usually pissed off at him, but this was a whole new level. This was: I’m actually going to kill you, rather than: I want to kill you, but I won’t.
“WILL!” Merlin tore his friend away in rage, the instinctive protection for Arthur suddenly taking over. Confused, the blonde watched Merlin shield him from harm. This inane reflex immediately dispersed when Merlin saw the shocked look on his friend’s face.
“You defend him, even now?” Will barked maliciously at Merlin in disgust, mutual concern spread through the clan. Without allowing Merlin a chance to respond or explain it was just instinct and nothing more he swore, Will ran straight back to Arthur, pinning him against the tree viciously.
“Go on then!” Arthur yelled in the man’s face, tone drenched in loathing. Behind them, Merlin wiped his eyes aggressively. He didn’t want to cry over a Pendragon, a man who had cruelly lured him into this trap.
“Kill me, see what difference it’ll make. I’ve told you the truth.” Pause. He looked over Will’s shoulder to Merlin who met his eyes dejectedly. “You have to leave-“
“-We will never leave!” Will slammed the blonde harder against the tree. The collision shook Arthur’s knees, causing them to buckle. Falling against the tree, he held back a groan. “This is our home, how dare you and your people try and force us out-“
“-I am not the enemy.” Arthur hissed weakly. He reached behind, eyes clamped shut, to rub his back.
Turning his back on Arthur, Will faced the druid clan.
“He’s a traitor. He led them right to us!”
The outburst of agreement was heightened due to the mutual fear that there was trouble in their paradise. Any moment now Arthur was sure they were all going to leap onto the plateau and join Will in the attack. However, before there was any chance of this actually happening, a new face emerged from the crowd. He leant beside Arthur, offering him a dismal smile.
“Arthur is trying to protect you.”
Merlin spared a glance for Gwaine, a man who had become one of his closest friends in the past few months. Then the arrow of realisation shot him in the heart. The way Gwaine was supporting Arthur, his knowing look.
“…you. Don’t tell me you knew about this too.”
An outburst of raw sobs (“No…please, don’t!” ) came from the crowd – Gwen’s – as Lancelot left her side valiantly climbing up to nature’s stage boldly. Standing beside Gwaine and Arthur, who was leaning slightly against the former, Lancelot bowed his head grimly.
“We had our suspicions Merlin.”
Livid, Merlin shook his head in despair eyes flickering between the three men before him. All of them knew about this! Yet not one of them had done the right thing, or tried to at least convince Arthur Pendragon – the man with power – to amend his mistake. Fighting the growl of his magic, it was angry, furious, the son of Balinor turned to his father who had not said a word. As leader of the clan, it was up to Balinor to make the final decision of their fate. He glanced over at his distraught son. Merlin felt hot tears prickle his skin – death seemed highly favourable by most of the druids at this moment in time. He could hear their unusually unforgiving thoughts rattle his mind. Despite the peaceful nature of his people, the blinding human emotions clouded their judgement. Casting his eyes towards the three men, Merlin wiped his eyes. Death. No. To watch his friends die, to watch Arthur die – well it was simple what would happen.
Merlin would die too.
Not because he loved Arthur, because after the turmoil of emotions that had numbed is body, to grieve over someone who had managed to elucidate such a vast spectrum of feelings from him, see into his soul, touch his heart- it would stop the faint pulse running through his system automatically. He couldn’t let them die, allow the druids to embrace their hatred. The druids were not a malevolent race; they needed a reminding of this before it was too late and everything escalated. Pleadingly, he dragged his watery eyes over to his unsympathetic father. Let them live. He thought, he begged, knowing the druids and Arthur could hear. Let them live Father.
Perplexity hit the blonde in the face, heart racing. He had just ripped Merlin�
�s soul apart, destroyed every ounce of trust he had made and built with the people – and still, the only thing he could think was to let the traitors live? Arthur prayed it was because Merlin forgave him. But he knew the true reason; he was doing it out of propriety, because killing in the name of emotions was not the druid way of doing things. Merlin had always been a moral person, even in the toughest of scenarios. He was Emrys after all. For him of all figures to allow murder – it would spark chaos within the people.
Balinor’s orders defeated the silence.
“BIND THEM!”
No time was wasted. Instantly, druids rushed onto the plateau, viciously grabbing the arms, legs, heads of the traitors. There was no kindness about this. Magical chants were spat with rage; conjured chains enclosed around knees, wrists, and in Arthur’s case his neck. The metal had the sensation of a blizzard and then suddenly the sweltering heat of the desert. Then somehow, it was both. Skin flexed against the chains. Arthur slammed his eyes shut for a moment, to try and cast aside the pain searing through this body. Then, reluctantly, the pain was vocalised, his body thrashed against the chains.
Clutching Merlin by the arm, Gwenevere buried her head into his chest, tears leaking from her eyes. The pair of them stood back from the binding process, which resembled barbaric torturing. As he stroked her hair softly, Merlin acknowledged his own internal turbulence; a small shriek escaped his mouth. It sounded remotely different from any display of upset he had ever shown- it scared Merlin. This raw anguish tearing through his body was new, excruciating.
“You can’t stay here!” Arthur cried as the druids attached the chains to the wooden pillar. He was now suspended between the two fabricated pillars, Gwaine and Lancelot joining him. Holding his neck up with all his strength, to avoid gravity choking him against the metal, he continued.
“You can’t stay here and fight! They’re coming and they will destroy you.”
A loud thrumming from the horizon shook the landscape. An unfamiliar buzzing sound to the druid’s; it was a sound far too familiar for Arthur’s ears. Releasing Gwen, Merlin left he plateau, watching the sky. Hundreds- thousands- of birds flew over their heads, in the opposite direction of the growing rumbling sound. They created a dark sheet of black over the sky. The ground beneath their feet trembled menacingly, travelling through their bodies. The whole area seemed to be drained of wildlife that fled, leaving nothing but the confused and curious druids.
“MERLIN!” Arthur roared, shaking against the magical binds.
Trying to ignore the call, Merlin continued to study his surroundings, and nature’s fear. More birds flocked over their heads; a dark omen for what was coming their way.
“Run. Merlin you have to run!”
Over the tree-tops ahead, the sound emerged louder. The trees wavered dangerously as if something was disturbing the wind, and twisting it to its own will. Swallowing-hard, Merlin outstretched his palm as he walked into the clearing. It seemed the rest of the clan had similar ideas. This place was sacred. Nothing was going to stop them from protecting the Crystal Cave, or their home. How dare the invaders believe that they had the audacity to assume they now had authority, that they had the right to do something like this? No. There was no way Camelot were going to just waltz in and take everything without a fight. Merlin summoned his bow and arrow impulsively, flinging it over his shoulders cautiously. The bow was a deep sapphire, with golden lines etched into the painted wood; the bows had sharp tips and a peculiar glow. It had been a long time since he’d had to use his hand-made magical arrows. Placing magic into an inanimate object was difficult; giving it magical qualities was near impossible. Nonetheless, Merlin had mastered it and knew it would come to good use here.
“Prepare for attack.” Balinor called.
The druids aligned, some in the trees on their Wvyerns, others on the ground with weapons too primitive to stand a chance against Uther’s modern technology despite being enhanced with magic. Hundreds of terrifying, enormous flying beasts surged into vision, cutting through the forest in the distance. The buzzing seemed to emanate from the spinning vortex on top of the machines. Merlin – despite having seen some of this before – was frozen in fear at the sight of the looming evil. Even so, he courageously held his ground, encouraging the others to do the same. Balinor cast the first spell, a flashing purple haze created an invisible wall between the two opposing forces. Instantly, Merlin raised his hand with the others, desperate to support this barrier.
“Sir, it seems they’ve put up a magical barrier.” One of the men in a helicopter deduced, flicking up the cap on one of his dials.
Gazing down at the mass of druids, Uther noticed his son chained and bound. For a moment he said nothing, no orders were given. His eyes rested on the blonde man, struggling desperately against the chains that appeared to be made of magic. Then, mercilessly, he spoke through the microphone.
“Send out the gas.”
Chapter 37
Through the sky, small silver capsules bounced against the magical barrier. They were unsuccessful in breaking through. With each hit there was hazy smoke and a shrill hissing sound; it distorted the vision of the druids, disorientated them. A few seconds into the attack, Arthur noted the druids were losing concentration and gaining bewilderment- the shield became weaker in result despite their efforts. The next silver capsule broke the barrier and landed at Will’s feet, exploding into a thick, black smoke. Coughing violently, he held a hand to his mouth, running backwards in repulsion. Other druids began to retreat too. Screams echoed across the plain, children racing towards an escape with their frantic parents. The rain of silver capsules continued as the vessels grew closer, beginning to pass through the barrier.
Merlin’s airways flooded with this venomous gas, triggering a distorted splutter. He hands remained raised, eyes fierce and glowing gold. The barrier was still holding back a good proportion of these strange weapons. He had to continue to hold the line, push them back. Balinor, unable to take the overpowering gas any longer stumbled backwards, hand pressed to his mouth. He cast his son an apologetic look; Merlin was too focused on holding his ground to fully take in what was happening. Hundreds of druids did the same. Some collapsed, falling into the long grass due to suffocation.
Watching his family deteriorate around him, Merlin let his defence slip for a moment. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at his surroundings, though that didn’t help him see through the warping fog-like mist. Everything was disorientating. Dark silhouettes were all that defined the frantic figures, and the only sounds distinguishable were cries and the shrieking of the capsules. His ears burnt with the sound, beginning to ring piercingly.
Bringing his hands to his ears, he felt the last part of the barrier fade into oblivion, allowing the capsules to plummet down onto Ealdor. Merlin removed his hands from his throbbing ears, gazing around wildly. He couldn’t see a thing. Conjuring a blue orb of light, Merlin watched the gas tint in colour around him, giving a little more definition to his surroundings. It still wasn’t enough, and the capsules kept falling.
“Father?” he yelled. A fierce cough wrenched from his body. “Mother?!”
The terrified cries of his people were too loud; it was impossible to discern one voice from the other. Arthur felt his head sink against the metal, gas choking his lungs. Despite efforts to lift his head, he couldn’t any longer. Too many of the weapons had passed through the barrier, releasing the toxic gas. This was how it was going to end then, he assumed, death by suffocation. Never seeing another’s face before drifting into an endless sleep. Dying an outcast, a traitor, with nowhere to belong.
The last of the capsules landed on the ground, decreasing visibility and strength. At that moment a figure plunged into Merlin’s side. Even from this proximity, it was hard to focus his bloodshot eyes. After a few seconds of strained vision, Merlin recognised the figure and tugged him back before he was lost amongst the smoke again.
“Will,” he whispered hoarsely. “We need to try and clear this
air. We can’t….” Merlin abruptly stopped, spluttering violently. Will leant towards him in concern; Merlin pushed him away and continued. There were far more people at risk here than himself. “We can’t p-protect the people if we can’t see.”
The man beside him said nothing but instead limply raised his palm outwards. Eyes flashing gold, Merlin felt the anger, rage and jagged emotions mix with his magic. He was Emrys. He could clear this easily; he just had to clear his mind and pretend the smoke wasn’t affecting his system. Anymore of this wavering, and his people would surely die. He could not allow Uther and his men to obliterate them through means of suffocation. They were going to put up a fight. Above the screams of the druids, his voice rose, summoning them into silence. His voice was low and powerful. Arthur opened his eyes weakly, watching in awe as the smoke vanished in a matter of seconds, dissipating from around Merlin.
The druids who hadn’t fled picked up their restored faith and stared triumphantly at their surroundings. Balinor reached for his son in relief, patting his shoulder in appraisal. The unspoken pride sent warmth through him that quickly fizzled away. Gazing up at the multitude of jet-black helicopters and military vessels, Merlin frowned. They were no doubt significantly outnumbered. His magic zoomed into the window where Uther Pendragon stood, fist clenched. Furiously, the man pointed a finger outwards towards the clan. It seemed his eyes were drawn to Merlin, Emrys. Yes, he knew Merlin was Emrys. Perhaps he had resorted to trying to kill Emrys rather than capture him now. The distance silenced the words. But Merlin sensed it was not good. This was definitely not the end of the battle – it was the beginning. Their weapons were highly sophisticated. A bit of smoke was nothing, Merlin had heard of the things they could do: blow things up, explosions, terrible, unspeakable things that were all about to rain down upon-