by GR Griffin
“-No!” Arthur shrieked, watching the machines open their hatches and turn into lethal mechanisms that were not to be meddled with.
Larger metal capsules spewed endlessly from the human ships. When they landed, each one ignited spontaneously into flames. With each capsule’s detonation, the ground shook violently and pushed the druids to the floor. Scrambling to his feet, Merlin’s eyes widened in terror as he watched the flames begin to rise treacherously.
Arthur’s eyes stung at the sight.
Uther had just opened fire on Ealdor, and they didn’t stand a chance.
♦☼♦
The missiles falling from the ships mercilessly obliterated the army of trees around Ealdor. They fell with a mighty groan. Wvyerns and their druid riders took to the skies in blind panic, flying out of combusting branches, helpless. Some were taken down with the mighty woodland guardians. Watching the towering trees surge towards the ground, Merlin’s protective gut instinct took control. Unsure of the whereabouts of his parents – which frightened him – he spoke through his mind and mouth simultaneously. The People couldn’t stay here, they would be killed – these weapons were far beyond anything they had ever experienced before.
“Get out of here!”
Several druids sped by his right, some still attempting to foolishly attack the landing missiles with their significantly inferior weapons. Many recoiled when they established this was no longer a battle – it was total, sheer dominance. Camelot gave no leeway for the druids to take control. Gwenevere dashed past Merlin’s left, two children attached to each of her arms. Their eyes were wide with shock, blood dripping from their clothes – silenced by complete and utter terror. It was a tragic sight. Running beside her, Merlin hoisted one of the children – who had become paralysed with fear – onto her back. He assumed they’d lost their parents in the smoke, or perhaps the explosions. Turning to the woman, Merlin gasped desperately for air that wasn’t full of smoke and dust.
“Gwen, if I don’t make it-”
A shrill scream echoed through the air, unnerving him.
“No, no Merlin,” she panted whilst sprinting further.
Suddenly, set off course by a missile which collided mere feet from them, they were flung backwards ruthlessly against the ground. The drive of adrenaline pushed a shaking Gwen to her feet, but the children were immobile. A second aftershock from the missile’s force shoved her back to the ground. She allowed the quivers to pass through her body before attempting to stand again. Nails digging into the mud, Merlin’s gold eyes lifted the children upwards into Gwen’s trembling arms. Meeting his eyes, she watched him stand. But instead of facing her, he faced the destruction behind them. It wasn’t a mystery as to where Merlin was going- he was going back into the hell and turmoil.
“You and Will, look after the people.”
Nodding obediently, Gwen squeezed the children’s hands, igniting a fierce newfound determination in them. She knew now was no time to try and talk or rationalise. The world around was burning, deteriorating. As Merlin looked over his shoulder, he watched the three fade against the smoke into shadows, hopefully out of harm’s way. He clasped his eyes shut for a moment. Then bravely he walked into the disarray.
Arthur shook his head in despair, watching as more trees tumbled down. He noticed one particularly large tree was set on a collision course with the raven-haired druid who was too busy looking out for others. From the missiles, not only came lethal fire, but the formidable smoke of natural flames too. The druids scattered like ants, all running to safety- although where safety was became less and less clear. Merlin noticed the dark shadow looming over him and gazed up to see a thick trunk - seconds from flattening him. A cry of a younger druid standing closer to the catastrophe sounded, alongside a frantic mother’s plea. Flashing gold, Merlin’s eyes focused on the tree. The ground shook as missiles continued to hit the forest and crumble into the ground, causing his control on the tree to waver for a moment.
“Merlin!” Arthur cried, watching the falling tree advance.
Running towards the druid child, Merlin scooped him up into his arms, keeping his magic firmly on the tree.
“Run!” he screeched to druids who were watching his heroic rescue in anxiety. Tossing the child into the arms of the mother, Merlin’s eyes widened.
He quickly cast another spell, pushing the pair forwards and out of the way of a large branch, which bombarded the scorched grass. He realised his mistake. The falling tree trunk above him landed with a thud and Merlin strategically rolled to his left, narrowly missing a fatal collision. A firm hand dragged him to his feet. Landing on his feet, adrenaline pumping, Merlin gazed into his best friend’s distant eyes weakly. Will and Gwen, they would always be here, no matter what. It gave him a small ounce of hope. Nearby, he heard Arthur’s violent protests which shook him out of the trance.
“Please stop this!”
Facing Arthur, reality set in. Panic. Smoke was rising, fire was burning- they would…die. The druids couldn’t leave them there; they would perish in the flames for certain. Arthur, Gwaine and Lancelot had once been their friends, people they could trust. Although it had been broken, it wasn’t completely worthless. Surely that was…enough. Turning his head with great effort, the blonde stared bleakly at Merlin. Surprise and alarm pelted him in the face. The idiot- why wasn’t he running like everybody else? Arthur watched Will tug Merlin backwards- at least someone had sense. However, it seemed Merlin wasn’t listening.
“Come on let’s get out of here.” Will ordered, attempting to pull Merlin’s unresponsive body with him.
The raven-haired man’s eyes snapped with fear. He remained immobile for a few seconds. Animatedly, he suddenly broke into rapid movement.
“Wait-”
“-Merlin!” Will cried out in exasperation, cautiously looking around their battered surroundings.
“It’s Arthur-” he raced towards Arthur loyally.
Merlin ducked his head from being hit by a flying metallic weapon. The missile narrowly missed, throwing Merlin viciously to the ground with its powerful tremors. Wasting no time, Merlin brushed off the pain, casting it aside for a moment. Fiercely he leapt onto his feet and continued his course. Arthur observed the scene in horror: Merlin was risking his life to come back for him. The traitor, the one who had destroyed him. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. Squirming against the grip of the chains, he groaned.
“For god’s sake Merlin go-“
Their eyes met.
“-No I…” Standing immobile, he gazed at the three men chained and hanging on the wood that lit dimly against the embers in the air. He was lost for words, unsure what the hell he was doing, or what his broken heart was supposed to feel.
In shock at Merlin’s behaviour towards the traitors, William yet again – this time more aggressively – latched onto his friend. Why couldn’t Merlin see? He was always the martyr, always too forgiving. Shaking him by the shoulders, Will narrowed his eyes.
“Merlin, listen to me. He’s the one who betrayed us all. He’s been working for his father the whole time. He lied to us.” The surge of agony Merlin had tried to magic away crashed against his skin. Will’s words reminded him of Arthur’s own. “He lied to you. The Arthur you thought you knew doesn’t exist.”
Despite the pain Will’s words caused Arthur, reminding him of his own treachery seemed to only way to save them.
“-I brought them here.” Arthur interjected. Gwaine shot Arthur a dark look, too weak to actually protest against the stupidity he was witnessing. Arthur was deliberately forcing Merlin away from him. “For six months I knew all about this day. All of this is my fault. I am to blame. I abused your trust-“
“-he used you-“ Will added.
Slamming his eyes shut, Merlin released a cry of grievance. All of this, he knew to be true. What was he doing? Arthur was to blame. He had used him. He had carelessly befriended him, seduced him – all for the means of his father. Red and purple flared against his eye
lids, accompanied by the sounds of war- no- attack. This was no fair fight; it was a massacre. Falling out of Will’s grasp, Merlin opened his eyes – and ran without looking back.
From above, the druids looked hardly intimidating. They resembled little specs scurrying around the fire; the missiles had scalped the earth. The skeletons of trees were imprinted on the charred soil. The only place that remained untouched, but oh-so close in reach – was the Crystal Cave. Sitting on the edge of the annihilation was that vast stretch of rocky tunnels and glistening crystals. Beneath this, enough oil to save the world beyond Albion. But inside, was something far more valuable: the key to the druid’s culture, their very essence.
From the screens back at Camelot base, some soldiers held their hands to their open mouths in shock; others felt their lips twitch upwards into a victorious smirk. One, held in the grip of two strong men, was belligerently voicing her grief.
“No!” She roared, watching the devastation unfolding through teary eyes.
“They have to stop- please, Valiant where’s your humanity?!”
The man watching the screen in front of her did not turn to face Morgana. He did not even acknowledge her words.
“This is a sacred land! It is part of the druids. It is holy.”
From the plain of demolition, a woman outstretched her hands to the three traitors. Instantly, the chains unbuckled, casting the three men to the floor. Smoothing a hand over Arthur’s shoulder, the woman sobbed. Arthur held onto Hunith gently, staring dismally around the wreckage that had once been a beautiful settlement.
“Please, if you are one of us Arthur, help us.” Gazing into the eyes of the woman, Arthur wrapped his hand around hers, expressionless. The guilt bottling inside of him was too much to handle. He wanted to tell her it would be okay, console the woman who had helped him. He found he could not. There were no comforting words he could offer, only meek condolences.
“Hunith,” he struggled to get the words out. “We’re too late.”
A thunderous roar ripped through the skies, drawing the attention of everybody. Arthur gritted is teeth, staring up into the dark expanse of machines. The fleeing druids came to a standstill, watching as the attention of the fire and artillery changed its focus. Merlin spun around from his retreat. Once again the ground beneath their feet vehemently trembled. The earth itself rumbled, and a crackling resonated through the sky. Without warning, the plain across Ealdor began to divide, earth tumbling into the expanding wound. Some people fell into the dark expanse, unable to outrun the crack. Druids scrambled to their feet, recklessly sprinting towards the Crystal Cave, their last place of refuge from this hell. But Merlin seemed to be among a few who had figured out the next plan. Frenetically, he leapt in front of the frightened druids; he had to steer them elsewhere.
“NO!” he yelled, viciously heaving bodies away from the Crystal Cave with forceful shoves.
The crack behind was growing, swallowing a handful of druids who thought they could jump across it. Merlin blinked back tears at the sight.
And then it happened.
The event that was about to devastate the druid world.
The event that was about to change everything.
Arthur gazed over to Gwaine and Lancelot, who refrained from running. Exchanging alarmed looks, the three of them could only watch, utterly powerless. Time seemed to slow when the first missile was fired into the air. All eyes, even the soldiers of Uther, followed the pathway of the single missile. It pierced through the air, over the tearing earth, past the fallen trees. Merlin foreshadowed the consuming grief of his people; the overwhelming notion of what was about to happen pummelling his soul. Heads moved with the motion of the missile, eyes expanded, mouths fell open. Some tried to convince themselves that this wasn’t happening by chanting wildly in the druid tongue, others had already burst into despairing weeps.
Then for a moment, there was silence; nothing.
Next came an ear-splitting crunch.
It was the sound of every single druid’s heart, every soul, collapsing into oblivion.
Chapter 38
...
The first missile crashed into the Crystal Cave with force. Shards of crystals flew chaotically into the air. Swiftly the strong foundations came tumbling downwards. And then it all became apocalyptic and impossibly devastating because the sky was full of artillery. Each missile pounded the Cave vigorously.
“No!” Merlin shrieked, running hysterically towards the massacre of their home, their beliefs…of Albion.
It was not just the druids here that would feel each and every attack, and the anguish it caused. This would be felt across the entire land, every single druid would fall onto their knees and crumple to the ground. Gwenevere and Will each bravely tugged the livid Merlin back, trying to keep hold of him. An explosion of flames spewed through the sky like a sadistic firework display. The remnants of his heart thumped against his chest, and Merlin saw red. With a flick of his magic, eyes dark, he freed himself from their embrace. Arthur watched the sight in fear. Merlin was headed straight towards the destruction.
“No!” Merlin took both palms and held them to the sky, firing blinding orbs of white towards the missiles.
He was at the mouth of the cave, consumed in smoke and rattled by the tremors, using all his might to push back as many missiles as he could. But he was too late. Not even Emrys could prevent this with his power. His body shook violently against the quivering earth. Behind him the mouth of the cave capsized, choking out dust. Missiles continued to batter the rocks, which were obliterated into jagged tiny pieces. It all became lethal and sinister. He could already feel small stones slashing against his skin, trying to burrow him. Merlin had no choice other than to run from the calamity, abandon the sacred place of Albion for his own life. Emrys was no use dead. But he also was no use if he couldn’t even save everything. His body seared with pain, magical energy grinding his bones, churning his insides in misery from the damage. Retreating, he pushed his weakening body away from the raging inferno of ash, and rubble behind him. The collision of the crystals and rocks smashing into small fragments was thunderous and disturbed his balance. Merlin failed to wince at the sharp sting as he fell to the ground, hauling his body up with belligerent and stupidly blind hope.
Maybe they could fix the cave. He- he could turn back time if he tried hard enough maybe, or perhaps somehow they could rebuild it-r-right- a raw scream was torn from his sore throat as he watched the scene unfold. Helpless. The mighty Emrys was helpless.
Then – the final strike hit mercilessly.
Druids that were running in fear immediately stopped in their tracks, faces scarred with intense turmoil. A cataclysmic collision finalised the collapse. Any remnant of the mighty structure had been shattered into miniscule shards. Where once a beacon of faith and wonder stood, where an ancient cave that held the very origins of magic was a towering pile of rubble. A dull cloud of dust swirled ominously around the sight, shimmering particles of crystals twinkled against the fires assaulting the land around. No.
It was all gone.
Without a second’s hesitation, Uther’s helicopters and vessels backed away, their humming faded into the distance against the horrific silence that plagued the ruins of Ealdor. This humming would haunt Merlin for life. For what they had done, the catastrophic damage they had inflicted upon an innocent earth- what they did- Merlin felt the turmoil rise in his chest.
Arthur opened his eyes slowly, dreading to see what his father had left of Ealdor. The air was thick with dust and smoke, silhouettes of druids was all he could define with his hazy vision. Nausea overpowered his system, wrenching an uncontrollable groan of shock from his lips. It was all gone. Ealdor, the crystal cave…nothing was left. Stumbling forwards bleakly, he watched around as druids writhed and thrashed on the ground helplessly. Abruptly, the magic coursing through his veins also reacted pugnaciously. Falling to his knees, tears fell from his eyes. It was all gone. A beautiful settlement of the most wonderful
people he had ever met- reduced to savage annihilation. Suddenly, he could feel everything, everyone. Every heart that had been ripped out of its chest toppled chaotically onto his own, creating an unsteady, rapid pacing that vanquished his senses. Then the wave of sobbing druids from miles away hurdled ruthlessly over his skin. Next came the aftershock of the earth’s cries, the trees’ distraught amplified in his very mind as they mourned their neighbouring forest; every scar inflicted upon the land dug sharply into his body, cutting up his insides. Curling into himself feebly, attempting to block out the sensory overload, Arthur unwillingly began to crumble. There was the grief for the comatose bodies of those killed or missing. The sense of unparalleled fear in the children; the shock from druids all over Albion.
But most of all he could feel the colossal void inside his own body. It started small, hidden behind the mass of this extensive injury. Then it began to swell, pushing everything else forwards callously until Arthur thought he couldn’t feel anymore. It was all gone. The colossal void detonated into an expanse of unbearable desolation, isolation. The tingling of his magic intensified to an excruciating prickling sensation. His magic was weeping. The whole druid world was weeping- and for a few moments he could feel everything.
Now he felt nothing.
It was all gone.
Burying his fists into the mud, Merlin fell to the ground silently beside the lingering flames. He could hear nothing, see nothing. But god – could he feel. His magic was still hammering about his body wildly. Disbelief attacked his system, disbelief that anything like this could ever happen. But it had happened. Then a terrifying understanding that the Crystal Cave was gone. It was gone. Then fear, fear for his people, for his parents, for his friends. A rush of everything crashed over him, relentless silent cries shook his body. It was all gone. Sound made its way back to him, screams and cries of the people trickling through into his ears. His vision, blurry and disorientated, began to recognise shapes and differentiate colours.