Camelot Enterprise

by GR Griffin

  “I bet.” Gwaine interjected playfully, shoving the ‘ray of sunshine’ with his shoulder gently; Lancelot chuckled softly at the gesture.

  “You’re not funny.” The feisty man snapped back in response, a lack of bite to his tone, replaced with a suppressed laugh and fondness that had taken an age to blossom. Holding a hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh, Merlin gazed upon his old friend affectionately. Although unsure what exactly had triggered Will’s change of heart, Merlin definitely wasn’t complaining. He was glad that finally William was on good terms with Arthur and his friends, now they could truly fight as a team without division or blatant disdain.

  Freya linked her hand with Will’s, shaking her head humorously at Gwaine. She avoided eye contact with Arthur, to which was completely understandable. If Merlin recalled correctly, their first conversation a few days ago had begun with her saying ‘sorry I tried to…eat you’ to which Arthur replied ‘it’s okay, we all have off days’. Freya was too sincere and anxious to fully understand Arthur’s sarcasm, Merlin had to turn his back and walk away in fear he’d burst out laughing at the awkward exchange.

  Arthur’s voice brought him back to the present.

  “This is it. Breguoin.”

  There was resignation in his voice, resignation that Merlin was simply adamant to ignore. Plunging his sword into the ground, Arthur looked out to the rocky plain of Breguoin. The terrain was lined with trees, enough to aid the Druids in agility and escape, but not enough to cause issues with visibility or aim. Its outskirts were mountainous and hilly which would no doubt slow Camelot. It also had a vicious, nasty surprise, which Merlin agreed could work to their advantage.

  Breguoin had ‘hidden traps’, crevasses in the earth due ancient tectonic work beneath the land. When in battle, one could easily forget to look at the ground they’re standing on, and take a step forwards only to fall into a dark abyss. It was where the Naiimen had fought once, centuries ago. Mt Breguoin was a foreboding place also, for the edge of that mountain was a deadly cliff that led directly into one of the crevasses. It stood in the centre of the plain, taller than the hills, but far shorter than a mountain.

  The low terrain of Breguoin gave it a surreal, ominous feel against the striking high hills and mountains that ran along its area. The rising of Mt Breguoin against the sun cast a giant shadow over the plain. Turning his attention to the vast crowd behind, Merlin inhaled a deep breath nervously. He hoped the plan would work. Arthur grasped his shoulder comfortingly before addressing the front line.

  “You know the plan. We have less than a few hours before my father gets here with his army. But we are strong, and we can defeat them. Remember the plan,” lifting his sword from the ground, he turned to one of the Clan leaders. “Elätha, you and your men are masters of the mountains, and archery. Lead them to the hills as discussed.” Elätha bowed his head towards Arthur and Merlin, leading a mass of people away from the sight.

  Lancelot was among them, standing before his two friends before following Elätha.

  “Watch yourself Lance,” Arthur said extending his hand. Reaching for it, Lancelot smiled and shook it firmly. His eyes darted towards Merlin whose grip on his hand was far tighter than Arthur’s had been, indicating worry. Lancelot said nothing on the matter and left the pair with Elätha and his men, a beautiful wooden bow slung around his shoulder.

  “Ryol and Ïalvy will occupy the right side of the plain. Gwaine.” Pausing, Arthur smiled fondly at his friend. “You man the centre field. Set up a line of defence with the Elders, Laísrean and Rægan will arrange the second line of defence.” Nodding, Gwaine brushed past Arthur, shaking hands fiercely with Merlin who then drew him into a hug.

  “Be careful Gwaine.” He hissed, releasing the man hesitantly. Trepidation overcame him as he watched the vast array of People begin to take their positions for the war. Merlin couldn’t help feel that this was now beyond his control. There were thousands of people here. Not everybody would make it back. He couldn’t protect everybody, not even Arthur would be fully under his protection as they fought. Gwaine seemed ignorant of this fact, cheerfully grinning back at him.

  “Careful,” the rugged man retorted with a wink. “Now where’s the fun in that Merlin?”

  Sighing, Merlin’s austere gaze followed Gwaine as he marched into the distance, Druids trailing behind him bravely down the hill towards the plain.

  “Gaius...?” The old man lifted his head in response to his name. At this name, Merlin diverted his attention towards him, shaking his head in disapproval. Gaius – Gaius promised he would go with Gwen and Morgana! He had sworn to stay with the children. Yet here he was, in his robes, no weapon, and no defence. Taking a step forwards instinctively, Merlin raised his hand, silencing Arthur who blinked in confusion at the gesture. If Merlin honestly thought Arthur was going to allow Gaius to go to war!

  “No.” the raven-haired man spat determinedly, meeting the Gaius’ eyes with searing confidence. His voice became flustered, uneven. “No. Go back to Iaonam-”

  “-Merlin that’s not necessary-” the man attempted to explain but was met with a pleading, hurt voice.

  “-Gaius! I will not lose you again. I…” words trailing away, Merlin bit his lip, unable to fully express the sorrow, the poignant memories of Gaius and the laboratory.

  “Merlin’s right of course,” Arthur added evenly, raising his eyebrows at Gaius. “Which is why you and Alys will run the infirmary. Leon, Ysěult and countless others will be on the battlefield with the sole intention of healing the wounded. The severe cases that can be moved will come straight to you via these,” reaching into his pockets he pulled out one of Camelot’s teleporting devices that Morgana had taken from Camelot. “I know the risks of teleporting when injured are high,” he glanced over to Merlin before he could interject. “But we have no other choice. No-one fit enough to live is going to be abandoned on that plain and left to die.”

  Bowing his head, Gaius clasped his hands together. Relief swathed over Merlin, at least Arthur had managed to keep him off the battlefield and away from attention for good. Gaius offered the pair on final nod before he, Alys and the medical volunteers left to set-up a suitable position. With that, only a handful of people remained alongside Merlin and Arthur. Will stood with his Wyvern Fullmægen, Topia and her Wyvern Rannia, Bregurófne, Aithusa and Kilgarrah; Merlin had commanded Léohte to go to the caves of Iaonam, in fear her wing would put her in danger in the battle.

  “Now we wait.” Merlin said grimly, swallowing-hard as he gazed upon the horizon.

  “I fear we won’t have to wait long.” Topia of Saerion observed as she pointed towards the trees in the distance lined with smoke.

  The four of them stood in an arc, Merlin and Arthur at the front with the Dragons, Will standing behind Merlin and Topia standing to Arthur’s left, also a little behind him.

  “He’ll be here within the hour.” Arthur admitted, turning his gaze to Merlin who stared forwards decisively.

  “Yes,” He hummed in agreement. “I can feel it.” There was a sharp bite to his voice, gesturing what Arthur had been sensing since the sunrise.

  Arthur clasped his hand securely, gazing back out across Breguoin. Smiling, Merlin’s eyes darted from their hands to Arthur’s golden, beautiful face. It was amazing how Arthur was able to illuminate fear and doubt from him in an instance, how he could say nothing and yet say everything. The blonde man swallowed-hard, narrowing his eyes. His voice rang through Merlin’s head clearly.

  Everyone has said their goodbyes to one another. Perhaps we should too.

  Tightening his grip on Arthur’s hand, Merlin grit his teeth, staring out across the plain. Arthur’s words clearly affected him; he was foolish to think Arthur hadn’t noticed that they were the only two in the whole of Iaonem that had not acted as if this may be their last day together. Evidently he had, and he had been thinking about it if the depth to his voice was anything to go by. Taking a deep breath, Merlin replied back in his mind.

&
nbsp; We don’t need to.

  The next words that filled Merlin’s mind resulted in him practically jumping on the Once and Future, propriety cast aside for a moment, pressing his lips firmly against Arthur’s like he’d been longing to do all morning but there hadn’t been an appropriate moment.

  Okay. But I just want you to know before um…you know…this…that. Oh for God’s sake-! I love you. There. I love you and- MERLIN!

  A small laugh escaped Merlin’s lips as they kissed. Meeting the blonde man’s eyes, he replied.

  I love you too, dollophead.

  Adjusting themselves, Merlin grudgingly pulled away from Arthur and retained his powerful stance. Sheepishly Arthur cast a glance to Topia who simply smiled almost maternally, eyes darting between the pair dotingly. He fixed his tousled hair, fully aware that Will was a little stunned by the…intensity of their kiss. Meeting Will’s eyes, he saw something surprising – acceptance. Yet again, this greatly confused him, yet now was not the time to dwell upon it. Merlin felt a smile tickle his lips.

  His smile faded when it became clear that the dark cloud on the horizon wasn’t a cloud. It was an army. Ahead, protruding from the grey smoke was a battalion of machinery and weapons. Mercilessly, the trees fell as the forces on the ground ploughed through. Swallowing-hard, Merlin watched as the enemy loomed closer in the distance. There were still far, but they were so close. Too close. They waited silently. All eyes rested on the approaching enemy. It was unclear how much time had passed before Arthur spoke.

  “Get ready,” he hissed confidently, mounting Aithusa daintily on the beautiful silver and sapphire saddle Gwen had carefully woven. “They’re a lot closer than they look.”

  Realising Arthur was correct, and the plain had slightly tangled his vision, Merlin leapt onto Kilgarrah’s back, lined with a black saddle he had quickly made for both himself and his Dragon. The gesture, riding a Dragon, was an ancient one that had to be respected. This had not occurred for over a thousand years. Topia and Will sat upon their Wyverns beside them, gazing out at the dark army that loomed closer to Mt Breguion. There was no open fire from either party yet. But it was only a matter of minutes before the stalemate dissolved into pure anarchy.

  “They’re getting too close.” Topia observed uneasily as she studied the plain. Her words spurred on Will who readied his Wyvern into action.

  “Wait for the signal.” Merlin calmly reminded, unsure if he was being listened to, but too focused on the dark army to check. Next he heard the flapping wings of a Wyvern, and Will’s voice. He had no choice but to intervene.

  “This is it!” Will said determinedly.

  Abruptly, Merlin spun around, his eyes gold and menacing. He met the Wyvern’s eyes directly, instantly stilling it with his power. Arthur glanced back cautiously, clasping Aithusa’s scales tighter. This has to be perfectly timed. One foot wrong, the whole battle could be compromised.

  “Wait for the signal Will! Now of all times we cannot act spontaneously.” Merlin scorned, his voice a little more tense.

  Once sure Topia and Will were as settled as one could possibly be whilst waiting for imminent war, Merlin brought his attention back to the plain. In silence, they watched intently for Elätha and his men to begin firing their arrows. The dark army was stalking closer and closer, the deep rumbling of machinery echoing through their ears. The large planes and military vehicles were unnerving, rivalling the ferocity of a Dragon’s roar. The wait to take flight was agonising, terrifying. These were the final seconds of pseudo-peace, the final moments many would ever see. They passed too quickly.

  “THAT’S IT!” Arthur roared.

  Aithusa automatically sprung into action.

  “FOR ALBION!” Merlin cried as Kilgarrah dived majestically into flight.

  In a flash, the plain suddenly was animated. There was gunfire, there was magic. There was booming noise, yells of the Druids charging forwards valiantly. Elätha’s men continued to shoot arrows down mercilessly as Uther’s machines opened fire upon them.

  The battle had begun.

  Chapter 52

  Breguoin was echoing with the sounds of war. The sky was filled with menacing creations of man. To think there were only four riders, it was worrying. But Merlin and Kilgarrah were an expert team, weaving rapidly between the gunfire of the machines with ease. Eyes flashing gold, Merlin waved his hand at an aircraft to their right. The turbine powering the engine faltered, casting it downwards. Surging towards it, Kilgarrah grasped it with his talons, hauling it across the sky. It slammed into another aircraft, erupting into flames mid-air before exploding sadistically. Kilgarrah roared stridently, diving towards another machine that was no match for their great combined power.

  Another helicopter opened fire on them. Merlin aimed his staff at them, creating a barrier between them and the bullets. In fact, it wasn’t just a barrier. The bullets bounced back, ricocheting against it. They hurdled back towards the helicopter, stilling the heartbeats of five men. Guilt was the first thing to cross Merlin’s mind. Perhaps not all these men were sole believers in Uther. Maybe some of them were forced to fight, some of them – clear by several attempts at poor shooting – weren’t even soldiers. Kilgarrah snorted at Merlin’s thoughts, swinging his tail around to strike another aircraft forcefully and knock it into another.

  This is no time to be remorseful young Warlock. The future of Albion is at stake.

  Aithusa and Arthur rushed past them, almost in a demonstration of their own power rather smugly. Without hesitation, Aithusa spewed blue flames from her mouth, destroying their closest enemy before it even could think about opening fire. As she did this, Arthur valiantly leapt onto a vessel behind them, Excalibur instantly working its magic as he fought the men on-board. By the time Aithusa had engulfed the vessel with flames, Arthur landed safely on her back, full of adrenaline. He’d seen this kind of wars in films, read about them in books. To think he was now engaged in one! Steering Aithusa to the right, narrowly missing a barricade of bullets, Arthur searched the skies for Merlin and Kilgarrah. They’d vanished.

  ♦☼♦

  Flame torch in one hand, Calhoun clasped against the other, Gwen moved forwards with urgency. The Iaonam tunnels were narrow and dark, hardly the safe-haven Merlin had promised. Upon entering the tunnels, there had scarcely been room for two at a time. Morgana was the last to enter the tunnel, blade in one hand, gun in the other – both proved she was not to be meddled with. As they pushed forwards, some of the children became frightened, some cried for their parents, others already exhausted by the walk to the tunnels. Most of the Elderly had fallen behind, now led by Morgana who had only the echo of the flames ahead to guide her. Unfortunately, she had not yet managed to completely control her powers of prophecy, thus it was futile in this moment.

  A newfound panic had swept over Gwen. She had never liked enclosed spaces. The tunnels seemed to be just getting smaller and smaller. Her pace slowed. Pushing the flame torch in front of her vigilantly, she frowned at the sight ahead. More narrow pathways, three. All of them led in different directions. Slowly walking towards the junction, she studied them carefully, as if expecting to see an indication of which one to take. They all looked identical, yet all led completely different ways. Swallowing-hard, she gripped the flame torch tighter, standing in front of them.

  “How far are we Gwen?” Calhoun asked timidly, glancing back at the children who obediently came to a stop behind her.

  Suddenly a loud boom sounded through out the cave. Then came the sound of gunfire and explosions. It had to mean one thing – the war had begun. Breguoin was only a few miles from here. Clamping her eyes shut for a moment, Gwen muttered a small prayer for her friends out on the battlefield, now engaged in war. The children became a little unsettled by the noise. Having caught up with them, Morgana ushered the Elderly forwards before gently pushing through the children towards the frozen Gwen.

  “It’s begun.” Morgana stated, voice soft and pensive. There was no turning back from this now;
it was real. As she met Gwen at the front, she noticed the three pathways ahead. Grimacing, she turned to Gwen who gazed at her imploringly.

  “Can’t you…determine which one to take?” She suggested, gently stroking Calhoun’s hair as he clutched her hand tighter. Morgana shook her head in response, examining the three tunnels ahead. Her magic was not fully tamed, still raw. She was still unable to fully understand the spells required for certain tasks. One wrong word could completely change the spell. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  Narrowing her eyes, she extended her hand towards Gwen.

  “Pass me that torch.”

  Gwen pushed the torch into her hands, watching the woman walk closer. She moved the torch around energetically whilst scrutinising the stone. The sounds of war plunged through their ears, slightly muffled due to their distance. Hunith shuddered at the loud rumbles, unsettled by the sounds. After a few seconds Morgana turned back to Gwen with a wistful smile.

  “Merlin, he marked the way for us.”

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Gwen hastily stumbled forwards. She spotted the symbol engraved into the left tunnel’s wall. How Merlin had found the time to mark out the tunnels whilst organising the resistance Gwen didn’t know. But she wasn’t surprised. Merlin would do anything for anyone. Panic fading, Gwen strode forwards into the left tunnel with Morgana. As they walked, the torch began to illuminate carvings on the walls, revealing that perhaps it was not Merlin who had left the symbol there. The children curiously admired the symbols on the stone beside them. A few let their fingers gently skim past the stone as they walked. In all her time in Ealdor, in Albion, Gwen had never seen symbols like these. Her intent gaze flickered from wall to wall.

  “I’ve never seen symbols like it.” She confessed.

  The engravings also baffled Morgana, who had subconsciously slowed her rapid pace to appreciate them.