The arrival of two mysterious strangers to Camelot marks the dawning of a new threat to the great kingdom. Will Merlin, Arthur, Gwen and Morgana find the courage to answer the call? Can they help their new friends to defeat a deadly foe and prove...
A new day was dawning. The rising sun bathed every turret of Camelot's majestic castle in a gentle golden glow- but sadly, no-one was around to witness this natural wonder. Silence hung in the air like a shroud. No birds greeted the sunrise with their morning calls nor did a breath of wind stir through the trees.
This eerie stillness stretched beyond Camelot's borders to the Forest of Balor. The woods themselves seemed equally lifeless- but not for long.
A figure clad all in black soundlessly emerged from the trees and surveyed the landscape before him. Specks of golden sunlight sparkled in his black hair and on the stubble that coated his chin. A cloak of ebony feathers swept down to the man's feet, covering his entire body except for his fingerless gloves and knee-high boots.
Presently, the man gazed out at the scene before him and a wide smile spread over his face. After an arduous journey, his destination was finally in sight- and it was a place which he knew very well indeed.
Camelot.
Even though the majestic city was still a long way off, it was clear that Uther had done well during the stranger's absence. Of course, the king may not recognise his visitor now, given how much the protector had changed between now and his last visit to Camelot. Mind you, he wasn't protector any more. That time had been and gone. His staff had power had found a new owner- and a very worthy one she was too!
Raven Of Old suspected that despite its outward appearance, Camelot had also experienced some significant changes since he'd last set foot in the citadel. For a start, Uther may no longer be on the throne. Had Igraine given him the son he had been so desperately hoping for?
There was only one way to find out!
As surefooted as a mountain goat, Raven of Old set off on the final leg of his journey. In all honesty, he hadn't expected to be returning to Camelot in a time of such great peril, but they say that desperate times call for desperate measures. Any previous plans which had been made had fallen by the wayside and yet the task itself still hadn't been fulfilled.
Concern was etched upon Raven Of Old's face as he left the forest and set off along a well-trodden track. What had become of Raven? Only yesterday, she'd departed from their homeland on a vital quest, but not without promising that she would complete the task at hand and return home by sunset. Raven NEVER broke a promise, for she knew that the warriors needed her to hold back the demons at night. This time, for whatever reason, her promise hadn't been fulfilled. In fact, if Raven Of Old had not realised the dangers at hand and arrived just in time to protect Raven's young charges from an ambush which had been the work of Nevar's demons, then who knows what might have happened to them?
Raven was still in Camelot. That much was certain. Why, Raven Of Old couldn't say. Raven never broke her promises, but perhaps there had been some kind of delay with completing the task at hand? Then again, she always kept in touch with her guardian using the staff of power. So why didn't she do the same thing this time? Did she not have it with her? Who could tell...
By now, the path had given way to countryside where farmers dutifully tended to their crops and cattle. Moments passed before it dipped downwards into a wide, steep valley. Still, Raven Of Old continued boldly onwards without ever slowing his pace.
Once he was on the other side, he found that the path climbed steeply upwards and gave way to familiar territory. At last, his persistence was being rewarded.
For the first time since leaving his homeland, Raven Of Old met other travellers along the road. He strongly suspected that many of them were either visitors to Camelot or villagers who were setting off to work in the fields. Raven Of Old greeted each of them with a respectful nod as they passed another by on their separate journeys.
Eventually, he noticed a small group of merchants who travelling slowly along the path. Raven Of Old fell neatly into line and followed the crowd up towards a drawbridge, where two knights dressed in scarlet robes stood dutifully on guard.
Raven Of Old nodded in due respect to each guard as he passed them by.
His first impressions were that the citadel was just as he'd remembered it. Guards wielding shiny spears patrolled every area of town, from the drawbridge which he'd just crossed to the courtyard. Once he was within the market-place itself, Raven Of Old could hear stall-holders shouting their wares. Villagers dressed in simple peasant robes bustled to and fro, gathering food supplies for the week ahead.
All these familiar sights and sounds should have delighted Raven Of Old, but instead, he found himself feeling uneasy. Camelot itself may not have changed much in terms of appearances, but somehow, the atmosphere was different. However, Raven Of Old couldn't work out exactly why this was so, until he reached the castle. There, in the courtyard, stood something which made his blood run cold.
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It was a stake for burning witches.
Raven of Old's eyebrows narrowed in suspicion. Why was it here? What terrible crime had been committed? Unless...but why?
Dread filled Raven Of Old's heart as he took in the dreadful site before him. Oh, what terrible crime could his young warrior had committed which deemed her fit for such a punishment?
