Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  For Albion, for Albion, for Albion…

  Chapter 51

  THE BATTLE

  All around the curiously silent Iaonem, the signs of war were slipping into focus as the dawn approached. From the fading colour in people’s complexions, to the hand-woven flags (a crimson dragon) that hung high in the trees. War was imminent. Fear and hope meshed together messily, creating as a result conflicting scenes around the camp. The dew on the leaves threatened to overpower and consume the vegetation, the sunlight suddenly had the ferocity to set everything ablaze, the wind was howling scornfully and then it was weeping mournfully. Everybody had awoken; the sound of gunfire and destruction was upon the horizon, pillars of black smoke rising in the East. It wasn’t difficult to establish that most settlements in the East were now slowly crumbling, their foundations cracking as Camelot continued to rain down on the land.

  Iaonem was quiet. All ready for the next step, the step into the dark, praying that it would carry them back into the light. Belongings were huddled together, hoisted across shoulders, weapons were unsheathed, and signs of a settlement were hidden through delicate and meticulous spells conjured by the Elders of Ealdor and Merlin. As the sun crept up on them, revealing the day, the People prepared themselves. Many had dark rims under their eyelids, some their faces were as fresh as Spring in Monus, or as bright as Summer in Ealdor. Sleep had been necessary, but it hadn’t been easy for many. It hung over them like a curse, a reminder of what was to come the next day. War. Bloodshed. Battle.

  Mother’s caressed their children’s tangled hair, singing them soothing lullabies to lure them into the night’s embrace, lover’s lay close together, exchanging secrets and whispering unspoken truths in fear it may be there last night on earth together, warrior’s polished their weapons silently. The blanket of diamonds above in the sky had plunged the whole of Albion into a wistful sleep, and with the unknown upon the horizon, the extra sparkle – a gesture of compassion and hope - amid the stars had been appreciated.

  Now it was time to initiate the plan, to go to war and fight for Albion’s freedom. Despite the clear skies, the cloudless horizon, there was a shadow cast over Iaonem in the final hour of sunrise. The final hour that the People of Albion were restored, were together. It was the last sunrise for many, the final light they would ever see. Clenching his teeth, Arthur watched the orange sun slowly morph into a shimmering jewel, the silhouette of the land fade away into verdant green and lush forests. Beside him, Merlin stood, swallowing-hard as he too determinedly stared into the distance. Unexpectedly, he began to sing. His unrefined, yet surprisingly melodic, voice carried out among the silent statues of Iaonem.

  This light may be our very last

  This light may be the death of us

  But it will never be the final light

  To touch upon the sacred stone

  To weave between the hills

  To carry through the Mountains

  To illuminate our home.

  This land is our own,

  This land is our own.

  Flickering his gaze between Merlin and the sunrise, Arthur heard the rumbling behind him grow into a mass communal voice, all singing this ancient song into the distance. The song had a charismatic, magical quality to it, the melody taking unexpected twists and turns, constantly leading into interesting and never repeating musical realms. Arthur’s vision slipped past Merlin and to Leon who was singing along, eyes glistening with glee. He almost rolled his eyes at the sight. Of course Leon – Magic-Druid expert – would know the song.

  This day may be the final day

  This day may be the day we fear

  But it will never be the very last

  To witness the beast and the bird

  To hear the river’s gentle song

  To feel the magic in the earth

  To live among our home.

  This land is our own.

  This land is our own.

  Turning around, Arthur studied the thousands of people behind him, all engaging in this chant. There was the sound of thick deep bass, high-lifting feminine voices, even the dark undertones of Kilgarrah and Aithusa attempting to hum along. The sound was uplifting, solemn yet joyous. Part of Arthur was grateful Morgana, Lancelot and Gwaine didn’t know the song too, but another part of him realised it didn’t matter. He still felt part of this vast network of voices blending with each other. A smile weaved onto his lips, as he pressed his hand to Merlin’s shoulder who also shared the smile whilst singing the song.

  There may be new among the old

  There may be strangers here

  But this mighty land will linger on

  To tell the tales of Naiimen time

  To share the ancient Dragon’s call

  To keep the secrets safe from harm

  To remember our blessed home

  This land is our own.

  This land is our own.

  This light may be our very last

  This light may be the death of us

  But it will never be the final light

  To touch upon the sacred stone

  To weave between the hills

  To carry through the Mountains

  To illuminate our home.

  This land is our own,

  This land is our own.

  As the final drone of voices faded into silent, all eyes on the sunrise, a universal feeling swept through Iaonem. Magic rushed through every body, through every soul and heart. It sent electric shivers down your spine, watered your eyes, quickened your breath. The sensation faded almost as fast as it appeared, leaving a nothing but a dwindling tingle upon their skin. And then it was all over, because the sun had risen. Wordlessly, people diverted their attention from the sun. Soft murmurs and tender goodbyes began to sound across the settlement. Arthur’s eyes lingered on the horizon for a moment longer than the rest, a frown touching his features. As the words of the song revealed, this light would be the last for many, it could be the death of hundreds. His hands moved to the sword on his belt, clasping the hilt tightly.

  His father was coming. He’d be here less than a few hours.

  ♦☼♦

  There was a divide among the people: the warriors and the vulnerable. It was a subtle divide, for even the vulnerable wanted to fight despite being advised not to do so. It had been decided that the children and elderly needed to seek refuge during the battle. Thus a majority of volunteers would have to stay with the children and the weak, for there would be no guarantee this refuge would remain safe. It had to be guarded and protected. Gwen had been the first to offer her services devotedly, alongside Hunith. Among the many others were Morgana, Keita and Gaius. It was a strong team; a team that no only mastered compassion, but could wield a weapon and fight for survival. It wasn’t this Merlin was worried about. He was worried about separating from many of his friends.

  “You must be careful,” Gaius advised the two men sternly. “Uther and his men are strong, ruthless. They are not afraid to murder and kill in the name of Camelot.”

  Frowning, Merlin listened to his old friend’s words solemnly. Beside him, Arthur studied Gaius quietly. It was strange, how both of them knew Gaius as this fatherly figure, how they both revered him for his company as children. Two completely different worlds, Gaius had seamlessly woven into both. If at his age Gaius was willing to risk everything to go between Albion and Camelot, well, it did make Arthur wonder what Gaius was like back in his day. Those ageing eyes were clever, never revealing his past, but yet they held the key to it.

  “That will be their undoing.” Arthur said, and Merlin twisted his lips in uncertainty at that statement but nonetheless didn’t question the words. Instead he questioned Gaius.

  “You will keep safe?” it sounded more like a statement than a question, yet Merlin’s anxiety was evident for those around to hear it. Gaius nodded, offering a final glance between the two men he had known since babies.

  “I am proud of you both. You have grown from the meddlesome children I kn
ew into great men.”

  Merlin scoffed at the word meddlesome, surely that fitted Arthur more than himself. Nonetheless, he accepted the complement, warmth filling his chest; Gaius was proud of him. Would his father be proud of him now? With that, Gaius hurried towards a crying child. The young girl was inconsolable as her older brother, who was determined to fight in the battle, bid farewell. Merlin watched the older brother – Jyuna to his astonishment –walk away, tears framing his eyes, blade clenched in his hand. The image was a painful reminder that this war, it was going to stretch families and friends apart, it was going to tear the seams that held people together. The thought of family panicked him slightly, and he desperately searched for Hunith among the crowd.

  “You all know where to go?” Arthur called out to the volunteers escorting the children and the old as Merlin spotted his mother.

  His hands rested on her shoulders. Hunith’s internal wounds from the destruction of Ealdor had still not been healed. Her eyes were beginning to glass over, a hazy aura enshrouding her at times that upset Merlin beyond belief. His mother had always been determined and resolute, to see her so fragile and defenceless – it scared him. Concern was etched onto his face, deep into his sapphire eyes. Smiling weakly, Hunith cupped her son’s face lovingly for a moment, indicating that she knew the path.

  Despite her acknowledgement, it wasn’t enough. He needed to hear it aloud. Merlin released his mother, turning to Gwen imploringly. She took a step forwards; a gentle smile brightened her face. As expected, she understood Merlin without him having to say a word.

  “We’ll be at the Iaonam tunnels, not far west of Iaonem,” Her words soothed Merlin’s apprehension. She met Arthur’s eyes to also assure him. Clasping Merlin’s hand, Gwen friend squeezed it comfortingly. Will took this moment to step forwards, joining his two old friends. It had been some time since the three of them were fully united, as they were many years ago. Tensions had been high the past few months, their friendship perilously close to breaking. Everything had changed now; they’d all found love and new horizons. But they still were the best of friends.

  “Take care G.” he said, drawing her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him, the protective streak evident. After all, she had been the one to rescue Will from Camelot, to ensure he came back to Albion. The pair had shared a great adventure, but the three of them had shared many more adventures together in Albion. Be it chasing Wildrens to tracking Unicorns and playing pranks on the Elders. A smile lit up Merlin’s face at the memories. He watched the pair fondly and was unable to restrain himself for diving in to join their embrace.

  “Merlin!” Gwen cried in mirth, startled as they toppled backwards a little. Laughing, Merlin avoided Will’s playful shove as the embrace faded into their minds. Will cast Gwen one final glance before darting back to Freya’s side, allowing Merlin and Gwen to finish whatever conversation he had clearly sabotaged.

  “I’ll look after Hunith for you.” Gwen whispered loud enough for only him to hear. Sighing, Merlin nodded in gratitude.

  “You have such a good heart Gwen.” He admitted. “Don’t ever lose that.”

  Gwen wasn’t stupid. She’d known Merlin for years; they’d been the best of friends. Through the years she had come to learn his emotional spectrum and how he delivered it. Sometimes he would try to fake a smile, and she would be the only one –aside from Hunith- able to see the cracks in it. To think he was trying to mask himself to her now, was almost insulting. She could hear the dejection in Merlin’s voice, his unspoken goodbye. When theirs eyes met, she raised her voice defiantly.

  “Stop it Merlin. I know you.” Surprised, Merlin laughed. He should have known better than to try and fool Gwen. Leaning towards him urgently, she continued. “Believe me, we’ll be fine.”

  Merlin smiled bleakly, nervously.

  “Of course we’ll be fine,” a new voice added. Merlin averted his eyes towards Morgana; a smirk smoothing over her pale complexion. “I already know it’s safe there.”

  Rolling his eyes, Arthur snorted at her rather arrogant comment. Trust Morg to gloat about her gifts.

  “Show-off.”

  Morgana tilted her head coyly in response, meeting her brother’s eyes with untamed affection. She walked towards him slowly.

  “At least I’m not a…” Grinning, she glanced over to the dark-haired man, feigning innocence. “What was it Merlin?-”

  “-Prat.” Merlin willingly supplied with a chuckle; Arthur scowled at him for participating in Morgana’s teasing. Her grin widened into something teasing and almost sinister.

  “Yes, that.” she mused jauntily, studying her brother with pensive eyes. The pair stood close to one another, now silent and contemplative. They’d been through much together the past few months. Lies, secrets, pain, devastation. Their bond had always been strong, ever since they were children. For a moment, Arthur saw a remnant of that childish fiend who used to sneak into his room and tell him magical stories, the lonely girl who had awful nightmares. Their bond was stronger than ever. That much he was certain. There was still tension between them, which was his own doing, but it had faded into the background of what always lingered.

  “You,” Arthur began, amusement dancing in his sapphire eyes. “Stay out of trouble.”

  He had to wait less than a heartbeat for her chiding response. She was always keeping on his toes.

  “I’m not a child Arthur.” She snapped, the venom instantly fading as he drew her into his arms. Returning the embrace she met his eyes once more warmly. “You…stay out of trouble too.”

  Releasing her, Arthur turned to Gwen who bowed her head formally at him, pulling her yellow dress out at the ends. Merlin smiled fondly at the kind, compassionate woman. She was so loyal, so modest. Gwen had no idea of her importance to Albion, no sense of pride. Without Gwen, Merlin feared the Ealden people would have never made it to Iaonem. Without Gwen, Arthur would not have been healed. She had saved many lives with her gentle touch and caring heart. If Arthur’s smile was anything to go by, he established this too.

  “Gwenevere,” he said, voice low and charming. “You of all people do not need to bow to me. We are friends.” Reluctantly she lifted her head and met his eyes cautiously. He patted her shoulder. “I know you will do all you can for them. Just do what you can for yourself too.”

  Nodding with a smile, she took a step back. Calhoun ran into her arms, a few other children crowded round her also. A tanned, handsome man strode towards her; Lancelot. Merlin was unable to hear their conversation, but saw only love radiating from their eyes. Arthur watched with a soft smile, before turning to Morgana. He raised his eyebrows, clearly implying something to do with Leon by the comical yet severe gaze. She averted his gaze stubbornly before striding towards Hunith and Gaius.

  Calhoun’s face turned crimson as he Lancelot dove towards Gwen, capturing her lips in a searing, honest kiss. Then he kissed her hand and made his way towards Gwaine who whistled teasingly at him. Embarrassed and startled, Gwen pressed a finger to her tingling lips, eyes darting over to Merlin who smirked cheekily back.

  It was then silence fell upon the two divided groups; they could not stay here forever. Smirk fading into an echo of a smile, Merlin turned his back to Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana, afraid they would see the tears in his eyes and the tremble of his lips. Lifting his head towards Arthur, he nodded and took another step forwards to the east. The warriors understood the gesture; it was time to go. Gwen and Morgana began to walk to the west, children and older Druids following in pursuit. As the two groups divided, Merlin spared a glance backwards over his shoulder before pushing forwards. Within a few minutes, the great and brief settlement of Iaonem was empty and vacant.

  Behind Merlin and Arthur, the Clan rulers and Will, the Druids were conversing quietly between themselves, either discussing tactics or telling each other about their families. For a few more moments, the front of the crowd was silent, no utterings spoken. The Clan leaders were clearly deep in thought, a line of resi
lience behind Emrys and the Once and Future. Merlin felt a little guilty, for he could sense Will’s discomfort, the feeling that he simply didn’t belong here and should perhaps go further back in the crowd. With one calculated look, Merlin prevented his friend from doing so. Instead, Will walked beside Gwaine, newfound confidence rising as they delved into a playful verbal fight.

  “What was that song?” Arthur asked absently, finally breaking the silence. He feigned nonchalance as they stalked through the forest away from Iaonem to find a suitable spot to take flight. Kilgarrah and Aithusa walked beside the pair silently. Gazing over to the blonde man, Merlin smiled softly. He had wondered when Arthur would ask him.

  “A song of old,” He replied rather enigmatically. Raising his eyebrows, because he knew that much, Arthur gestured for him to continue. Pulling himself up the steep hill with the staff, Merlin turned to Kilgarrah pensively. “A song that the Naiimen sung during their great war. It has been passed down for thousands of years, from parent to child.” Pause. “It’s a song that commemorates the fallen, affirms the living.”

  “I’ve never heard you sing before.” Arthur remarked, the sentiment behind the vague statement clear. A slight flush swept over Merlin’s cheeks, a knowing smirk slipped over Gwaine’s lips as he listened to their exchange from behind.

  “Well, William’s the best singer.” Merlin replied with a sly grin, evidently teasing the man as he glanced over to his right mischievously. Averting his eyes to Will, Arthur smirked, a rush of relief sweeping through him when Will moderately acknowledged him. To say Arthur was still confused about where he stood with the man was an understatement, but now – on the brink of war – it was no time to address such matters.