by GR Griffin
“Arthur!” he cried. “Go Arthur, follow the light!”
“What’s happening Gaius?” Gwen shrieked.
Arthur, Arthur no! Merlin’s shouts faded into wild, desperate mumblings full of intensity and fear.
“Merlin’s magic is acting instinctively, it seems he’s trying to help Arthur.” Gaius scurried over to the workbench, searching for the right ingredients.
“That’s…good right?” Gwaine asked hopefully, though realistically he was not able to see how one earth this could be good. Shaking his head, Gaius briskly stirred round a mixture in one of his containers.
“The more Merlin uses his magic, the quicker he deteriorates. The curse is leeching onto his magic, feasting upon it. The only chance Merlin has is to control his magic-”
“-But you said his magic is becoming unstable, that he can’t control it in this state.” Gwen remarked reluctantly, eyes locked on Merlin. It was clear there was a peculiar contradiction on all that had been said.
“There is so much I don’t understand about this curse. But it is fleshing out his magic somehow for certain.” Gaius rushed over to Merlin’s side, drawing the tightened lips open. Merlin resisted against him, small moans of objection sounding through pants. The orb was glowing brighter now, gradually draining him of energy. “Come on my boy,” he pleaded. Managing to keep the mouth open, he gestured to Gwaine who hastily poured the liquid down his throat. Merlin coughed and spluttered sadistically, emitting another low moan.
“Hold his head or he will choke!” Instantly, Gwen cradled Merlin’s head. He was still squirming, the orb continuing to shine. Gaius was back at the workbench, compiling another temporary vial to try and pacify the magic.
“It’s not working Gaius.” The cinnamon-skinned woman wept dismally, one hand gently tracing patterns on Merlin’s face.
“It will take some time to kick in,” Gaius explained whilst stirring the second potion avidly. “What we really need is the Mortius Flower.”
“Arthur will find it.” Gwaine insisted, the belief spewing from his eyes. “I know he will.”
“Arthur! I have to, Arthur.” Merlin spat urgently, Gwaine’s words seemingly spurring another explosion of energy. “Arthur, Arthur-”
“-He doesn’t have long.” The old man said forlornly, administering the second potion with force. Merlin gasped, his stream of words disjoining whilst he swallowed the liquid. “These potions will merely suppress the magical outbursts. Once they have worn off, the intensity will be far greater, maybe even fatal-”
“-No.” Gwaine shook his head vehemently. “Can’t you make another potion once these wear off?”
“I can,” the old man sighed, not entirely convinced with his own answer. “But this curse is resilient. It is already growing immune to whatever we give Merlin.”
All eyes focused on Merlin. His body had refrained from moving, the potions clearly beginning to take hold. The blue orb in his hand evapourated into the air, no longer ceasing to exist. The word ‘Arthur’ continued to fall from his lips in quiet, hushed tones. Aside from this, his body had gone back to the period of resting it had previously been in.
“Gaius,” Gwen softly began. “Get some rest. Gwaine and I will watch him.”
“We’ll come and get you if there are any changes.” The brown-haired man added, hoping to console Gaius as much as possible. Grimacing, Gaius stared down at Merlin quietly. With a submissive sigh, he gazed over to Gwen. She was speaking the truth of course. His body was on the brink of exhaustion, ready to collapse at any moment, not that he would tell them that.
“Very well,” he made his way to the edge of the stone clearing. Pausing he turned round to the pair sternly. “any changes no matter how small, you come for me.”
♦☼♦
Christ, this had Merlin written all over it. Now that name came into his head, he was certain. Yes. This was Merlin’s doing, he could feel it. The Druid, whose magic was already weak enough, whose body was too feverish, who was on the brink of death, still had the audacity to try and help! How on earth he had managed to do this, miles and miles away from Ealdor,he did not know. But Arthur did know one thing. It was stupid and not at all thoughtful or chivalrous. If anything it was insulting! It was one of the first spells Merlin had taught Arthur after all. This time, Arthur really did slash at the orb, hissing at it as if he believed it would make it go away.
It didn’t.
Arthur berated it further because this was fucking stupid and the longer Merlin kept up this charade, the less time he would have to live! The orb of light simply dodged his attacks swiftly, coiling around him and illuminating a small circumference around him. The blue hue was rapidly spinning around him, diving away from his assaults, almost knowingly. It dizzied him a little, but not enough to delay his sword. The Dragon snarled in vexation at Arthur’s ignorance to his surroundings. Arthur didn’t listen, because Arthur was too concerned about his beloved – did he mention dying?! - Merlin, who should be resting and not helping Merlin god dammit I can fucking conjure this myself put it out! Rest you idiot. He didn’t realise he was speaking aloud until he heard his own voice flutter high up into a volume far too perilous for where they were.
“I don’t need your help you fool! You need to preserve your magic, not perform silly tricks with it. Just go away and let me save you for goodness sa-“
The words spewing from his mouth suddenly fizzled away dramatically, with a slight elongation of the final vowel. Unable to snap shut his mouth; Arthur stood motionless as his eyes studied the sight before him. He whole body trembled unwillingly. In the dim light of the blue orb, it was clear that the dark mass ahead of them was now incredibly close. Too fucking close. He could see its large crimson eyes bleeding out from the darkness, gouging into the scene ominously. Damn, Aithusa was right, each of its eyes were bigger than his head alone. He could feel its pungent, foul breath on his face. He could just about distinguish the razor-sharp carnassial fangs protruding from its mouth menacingly, and despite the lack of light the sheer insidious nature of the beast was apparent. Slowly, he took a step backwards; Aithusa mimicked his actions. A fierce expression swathed his face as he held Excalibur out in front of him protectively.
They couldn’t run now. They had to find that flower. It was Merlin’s only chance of survival. Sneaking past the beast was now no longer an option. They had to face it. Yet there was a predicament. The lack of light barely revealed the Basilisk’s face entirely. There was no way they could fight this creature in darkness. But now it was so close, there was the risk of it initiating sudden attack if any sudden changes were made to the scene. Instead, Arthur continued to walk backwards, eyes locked on the blood red pools in front of him. Panic overcame his system. Inhaling a ragged breath, he spoke to Aithusa desperately.
We can’t fight it if we can’t see! And we need a plan. We can’t just attack. It’s a freaking Basilisk! He admitted bleakly, voice full of fear and pessimism.
If we had a plan, I fear it would still leave us disadvantaged. Basilisk’s are cunning and have been known to guess an opponent’s plan before it has even come into motion. The best chance we have of defeating this creature is by taking it by surprise, doing what it doesn’t expect us to-
-Which would be? Arthur asked, wishing he’d actually listened to that illegal, clandestine seminar Leon had given back in Camelot many months ago about magical creatures and their traits. Instead of actually taking in what was being said, he had twiddled his thumbs, making occasional snide remarks whilst Morgana and a few avid Druidians had listened intently to the talk. He was certain some of what Leon had said would have probably come in handy now. The young Dragon’s words didn’t give him much comfort.
I do not know what a Basilisk expects of its prey, and thus do not know what it would not expect.
Arthur rolled his eyes at the eloquent delivery of ‘I don’t know’. Aithusa almost sounded as cryptic and irritating as Kilgarrah for a moment. He swore he felt the White Dragon shudder b
ehind him. He didn’t mention it to her, too concerned about the consequences of a Dragon fearing this creature. He was less than half the size of a Dragon. Aithusa’s chest vibrated as a low humming resonated outwards. The drone appeared to stall the Basilisk’s movements, keeping it where it was whilst the pair stalked backwards to create distance. As they did so, Arthur studied other parts of the creature that were slowly coming into focus. First thing he noticed was that its scales appeared to have a thin, sticky residue. It had a peculiar gleam to it, as if the beast had been caught in endless rain and never quite dried. He narrowed his eyes, a little confused and pondering whether this was an optical illusion induced by poor lighting.
You must not touch its scales Arthur; they are covered with venom that is lethal to humans. Aithusa supplied, explaining this strange phenomenon.
Arthur found himself too submerged in shock to reply. They had no plan. No true knowledge of this creature because it apparently was exceedingly rare and only nestled in the most hazardous of places. The thought of its habitat unnerved Arthur. If a Basilisk of all creatures had settled in Ealdor it didn’t bode well for Merlin. It was an indication that this land was truly infertile and barren. Even if the Mortius flower was here, Arthur feared the extreme conditions of this landscape would blight it. His eyes examined more of what he could vaguely see. On the crown of its scaly head were mammoth spikes. Following that a series of smaller splinters all varying in size. Some were significantly dilapidated, creating jagged edges on the peaks. That was all Arthur managed to see before everything abruptly got worse.
To be more precise – things became dark.
The small blue orb of light vapourised into oblivion suddenly, leaving them in pitch black. Arthur barely had a moment to contemplate what that meant for Merlin and his health, because what happened next wasn’t right at all. Nothing happened. There was no attack. Aithusa and Arthur were left dangling in darkness. There was no sound from around them, no indication the Basilisk was here. It terrified Arthur. Without hesitation he conjured a spell, allowing a larger, more prominent orb to float around him. Just in time. The Basilisk was seconds from digging its long dagger-like teeth into his body! He dodged the maneuver swiftly; Aithusa breathed a jet of blue fire warningly, a response to the giant snake’s invasive hiss.
The blue flames caught the splints of wood scattered across the arid land, setting it ablaze around them. The blue flame against Arthur’s orange orb of light fully illuminated the Basilisk. Now Arthur could see the whole thing, he wanted nothing more than to erase it from his memory and get rid of the light. The Basilisk had three sets of teeth; smaller pointed fangs followed those impossibly feral ones he’d spotted earlier; he didn’t doubt that they were still just as fatal. The serrated spikes on its head drifted all the way down its slithery body. Its scales were a dark emerald, its whole body glinting with that thick residue. Its tail swung perilously around the coils of its body. The tail itself was frightening. On the end of the tail was another snake head, barely bigger than Arthur but big enough to induce panic within him. It too possessed the same blood red eyes.
The Basilisk lifted its huge head into the air, its body towering over Arthur and Aithusa. Both had to tilt their heads upwards to keep track of it. There was a brief stalemate. Then it mercilessly lunged towards Arthur. He managed to narrowly avoid a collision, sword scraping against the side of the creature’s face. As soon as that happened, there was another assault. Its speed was unmatched. Arthur didn’t have time to move out of the way or doge it. Eyes wide, Arthur stood paralysed. Its jaw was wide open, revealing the deadly cavern inside. The front fangs were almost as tall as Arthur himself. Overall the whole things screamed imminent death. He clamped his eyes shut, sword outstretched in front of him frantically. But the final blow never came. Stunned he opened his eyes, hearing a prominent roar sound behind him.
Atihusa slashed at the giant snake, throwing it off guard and causing it to miss him. Arthur became animated and dived out of reach, holding Excalibur above him as he toppled over to the ground. The snake was back in milliseconds, guzzling down the earth he had once stood upon seconds later. The White Dragon lunged forwards, charging into the creature. It fell backwards abruptly at the force of the Dragon. The Basilisk seemed intent on catching Arthur. It leapt forwards unfazed. Again, Aithusa deflected it, spewing another jet of sapphire fire intimidatingly. Arthur continued to move, watching helplessly as Aithusa attempted to attack the creature. His eyes could not move fast enough as the creatures duelled epically.
Aithusa was an agile Dragon, far daintier than Kilgarrah, her body lean and yet strong. This appeared to work to her advantage as she dodged the Basilisk’s venomous lunges effortlessly. Whilst this happened, the Basilisk suddenly steered its thrashing tail towards Arthur. Taken-aback, he stumbled out of harm’s way. The velocity he fell pushed him to the ground. His body was quivering, his heart racing. The serpent zoomed down to meet him, seconds from sinking its venom into his throat. Arthur swung his sword across his chest. As he did so, it caught the creature by the neck, chopping off the tail’s head. The tiny Basilisk released a shrill cry, its shrieking head rolling across the ground. Arthur leapt back onto his feet. He plunged his sword into the writhing head, a little repulsed at the sight. The head stopped moving.
As soon as he withdrew the sword, he noticed the scales around his blade were slightly discoloured. Rather than that familiar deep emerald, they were curiously silver. His eyes darted between his sword and the deceased snake. Aithusa’s words from earlier swept over him. This sword had been forged in the fires of two Dragons. It was not only powerful, it was unstoppable – even against the darkest of foes.
Aithusa! I know how to kill it. He cried in delight, turning back to the Dragon.
He observed the scene in horror. The Basilisk was looming over Aithusa, its poised head gazing down upon the Dragon like an assured, calculating predator. Aithusa wasn’t standing, no. She was lying down on her belly, her neck unable to sustain her head, crashing it against the ground violently. It didn’t take long to put two and two together, especially when Arthur spotted the crimson bite marks on her right side. She had been bitten. It was about to make the final blow, kill the Dragon- kill Aithusa. In horror, Arthur valiantly lunged forwards. He no longer was thinking of himself, only for Aithusa who had valiantly protected him against the ferocity of the Basilisk. He didn’t think about the venomous scales or the impending doom. He charged forwards and stood in front of the White Dragon. The Basilisk cocked its head to one side in confusion. Arthur could have never predicted what happened next, it sniggered. It was a dark and snide sound.
“S’My, s-s-s-s, S’my.” The Basilisk chimed; a slithery sound wrapped each booming syllable. “’S’The Once S’and Future s-s-s-s, and s’his Dragon,” it bowed its large head mockingly; low enough to meet Arthur at eye level. Arthur involuntarily trembled as their eyes met. His bravery dissolved. “It is-s-s-s-s a s’pleasure to meet you. S-s-s-s. I’ve heard s-s-s-such s-s-s-spectacular things have happened during my hibernation…s-s-s-such a s-s-s-shame I missed all the bloodshed and des-s-struction-”
“-There’s s-s-still a bit more left to go actually, you're just in time." Arthur replied boldly, holding his sword out. Hell, he didn't know where the fuck this stupidity was coming from - taunting a Basilisk of all things! The creature seemed unamused by his slight mockery, but delighted by his implications.
“Ohhh, Once and Future!” the creature hissed with delight, coiling its body around Arthur, but not close enough to touch his skin. This game was agnoising, tauntingly close and yet playfully too far to cause any real damage. “You are s-s-s-s-s-so quaint, I almost don’t want to s-s-s eat you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“Don’t tempt me s-s-s-silly.”
Arthur prodded his sword towards the scaly flesh all around him, not failing to jab it when it got tantalizingly close to his skin. Swinging his sword, constantly turning his body to ensure his immediate surro
undings were safe, he gritted his teeth. Aithusa was hurt. Merlin was dying. This bloody Basilisk was just getting in the way of everything! He was no longer scared of the creature, simply exasperated as the toll of the Great Battle finally began to have its effects on his bruised, weak body. He just wanted the happy ending magical books and fairytales always promised, he just wanted Merlin to be alive, for Aithusa to be okay. Naïve and foolish maybe, but not as far-fetched as one might assume. For whilst Arthur had been conversing with the giant snake, an idea had come into his mind – one he was sure the Basilisk would never guess because even to him it sounded ridiculous and near impossible.
“The first time I heard about you was in a book,” Arthur spoke, voice ringing out across the plain resiliently. “I was just a child. I was terrified of you-”
“-S-s-s-so you s-s-should be.” The Basilisk seemed elated by this confession, reveling in the words as if it were a great complement.
“But then as Morgana said you always were just a giant, stupid snake,” the creature hissed in rage at the insult, dramatically turning from bizarrely charming to completely formidable. “and if Harry could defeat you despite the odds, then so can I.”
At this, the Basilisk laughed.
“I know not who this Harry is-s-s-s you s-s-speak of.” It sneered, slithering around Arthur in amusement. “But as you can see I can c-c-c-certainly not dead!”
“Not yet.” Arthur replied darkly. Instinctively, his eyes flashed silver, words wildly spewing from his mouth.
“Beorhtne! Brima æwielmas,” The snake began to hiss noisily, its red eyes full of alarm. It uncoiled itself from Arthur. But it was far too late. For the Once and Future was determined to save his friends, his family, and nothing was going to prevent him from doing otherwise. “Beswylle beaduléoma!”
A huge wave of water transpired from nowhere magically. It caught the Basilisk in a helix, twisting like a whirlpool. The creature screeched, unable to escape the rapid, swirling vortex of water. Excalibur was dripping wet with water, a similar phenomenon occurring around the blade. Without question, Arthur lunged forwards and thrust Excalibur deep into the suffocating Basilisk. The force of the water against his skin was exhilarating; the freezing ice droplets pelted his skin and face as he pushed against the whirlpool. The blade cut through the scales, deep into the skin of the Basilisk. Abruptly the scales shifted from deep emerald to silver. This discolouring spread rapidly. Then the whirlpool exploded outwards into spurts of water. Arthur shielded his face against the great force.