Merlyn's Final Truth

Lamia P2

They rode out of the village as the sun just broke the morning sky, Merlyn leading the charge towards the sturdy mountains that marked the way to Camelot. She'd never felt so powerless before, so weak against her invisible enemy. This was not something that would disappear with a whisper, nor a dagger through the heart. There was something deeply wrong inside those victims, a festering of black magic that should not thrive in this world.

The knights weaved through the trees in silence, all shadows of humour lost. Merlyn knew that the mention of sorcery had pricked a certain fear that lay embedded in their hearts. Percival seemed to ride the hardest, glancing at her worriedly as he sailed past. She couldn't help but wince at that look, knowing how the man saw her. After all, if Emrys couldn't break this curse, then who could?

Leon signalled for them to halt, abruptly raising his hand to warn them of smoke rising from a leafy valley. They couldn't see the source, most of the way ahead obscured by foliage.

"Dismount and muzzle your horses." He ordered quietly, his gaze flitting around the forest. "Not a sound, any of you."

Merlyn obeyed, watching the others follow suit. Gwen stayed close to her as they tied up their mounts before following Leon, sneaking closer to the valley. Merlyn saw Gwaine pause, the knights crowding around him to see what lay below. It looked like bandits, a number of men laughing around a campfire, swords glinting at their sides.

"Bandits?" Gwen murmured, frowning deeply at the scene.

Elyan nodded. "Looks like it. We'll skirt their camp. With any luck we'll reach the plain unnoticed."

The knight's words were followed by a wail of fright. Gwaine drew his sword, always the hero.

"Over there." He hissed, pointing his blade towards a bedraggled woman. Her clothes were torn, her hair knotted. She was being pushed around, hands tied together, the men grinning wickedly as she sobbed.

Before Merlyn had time to digest the scene, Gwaine was off, sprinting towards the camp with all the wits of a feckless god. He yelled, ruining any advantage of surprise, slamming the hilt of his sword into the first bandit's head.

Elyan was quick to follow, the pair dispatching another two men before the rest of them had made it down. Soon, the bandits were upon them; Merlyn struggled to keep track of the knights, Leon now leading the charge. She stabbed and kicked, smiling as she saw Percival pick up a man, swinging him around to hit another before dropping him on his injured comrade. These men may have swords, but they were not knights.

As Gwen sent yet another man to his grave, the bandits fled, leaving the knights to their victory.

"Over here." Percival shouted, crouching against a tree as he cradling the still form of the girl Gwaine had been intent on saving. She was rather beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. Her brown hair was a shade lighter than Merlyn's, her pale skin reminding the witch very much of Freya.

"Looks like we were too late." Percival said solemnly, staring down at the girl. Merlyn furrowed her eyebrows, placing her hand on the girl's forehead.

"No, she's-" but Merlyn didn't have time to finish. A shrill scream shook the air, the girl bolting up at the witch's touch. Percival jumped, clutching her closer to his chest whilst the other knights drew their swords once again.

"Hey, hey. It's all right." He said soothingly, stroking the girl's hair. "It's all right. We're knights of Camelot. You're safe now. You're safe."

"Here." Gwen whispered, taking the girl's hands. "My name's Gwen. What's yours?"

The girl looked scared out of her wits, pressing herself into Percival, as if he could save her from all the troubles in the world. Still, she met Gwen's eyes.