Camelot

One - The Invasion of Warrendor

** AUTHORS NOTE **

To my fellow readers, whether looking for a fan-fiction to the 2008 BBC series 'Merlin', a general read or an exploration of my current works, please note - the characters and basic storyline of this novel has been based thoroughly from the mentioned series, 'Merlin'. I do not own many of these characters or the basic storyline from the Arthurian legend.

One – The Invasion of Warrendor

THE WARNING BELL ricocheted off the old stone walls of the castle, waking me from an already restless slumber. The sound shook the room around me, and loose objects fell from heavy wooden shelves with a clatter. My heart pounded as my eyes searched for an explanation for the warning bell. Then came the sounds of war.

War has a distinct sound. It begins with eerie silence, only to be drowned by a ruckus of noise. Men begin to yell as they charge towards their goal, whether it's a small village they quarrel with, or a kingdom whose riches they seek to take. Alongside their yells is the screams from the innocent. Men, women and children flee from their homes clutching what little possessions they can grab, seeking shelter where they can find it. Finally, there is the distinct sound of steel swords crashing against armour and shields.

In my eighteen years, there had been no signs of war in Warrendor. My Father, King Robert ruled with fairness and an open mind, even with the absence of my Queen Mother who had died when I was a child. Any issues other rulers had with our kingdom were usually sorted immediately when they came to meet my father. He was a fair and diplomatic man. The war raging outside the castle walls right now was purely for blood. This attack has seemingly come from nowhere.

There was a yell from the citadel below, which I recognised as the voice of our head knight, Sir Eoin. He was leading the knights below in battle and instructing them into an attack formation. All men would have been called to arms to face this attack. It was their duty to protect their monarchs, their people and their kingdom. I decided in that moment that if they were fighting for Warrendor, so was I. It was my duty above all others to protect this kingdom and everyone in it.

I ripped the soft bedsheets from my body and raced towards the closest window, perfectly placed to look over the citadel. Quite often whilst my Father addressed the kingdom, I'd stand at this window and look down fondly at my people. I'd never used it as a strategic war lookout before. I'd never had the need.

The window was draped in thick, expensive purple curtains that I carelessly ripped aside, before grabbing the ornate golden window handle and yanking the window open. Thick, black smoke rushed though the space, filling my lungs and obscuring my vision. I jumped back, coughing and rubbing my eyes. When my vision became clear once more, I grasped the windowsill firmly and stared out into the citadel, my eyes searching.

What I saw below me was bloodthirsty war. The actual fighting had all but ceased, with bodies of both my people and my knights littered around the citadel, murdered ruthlessly. Fires were burning whatever they could – from the wooden well where villagers collected their water, to overturned carts that they had travelled to the castle in, clearly seeking refuge within our walls. From the state of the citadel, I feared that not many of them had been successful in securing refuge.

The few knights that remained standing had retreated to the steps of the castle where they were working hard to prevent a horde of men in dark clothes and armour from advancing on them and entering the castle. Sir Eoin continued to bark orders, telling the few men he had left to fall back and barricade the castle doors. They were completely outnumbered. I'd seen enough. I needed to help them.

I raced back towards the foot of my bed where a large, handmade chest sat undisturbed. Inside were all of the essentials I deemed necessary to have on hand in case of an emergency including gold, armour, chainmail, a shield, a plain travelling cloak and my trusty sword. I always believed that it was better to be safe than sorry, yet I never thought I'd ever need any of the items in the chest. Clearly, I'd been far too naive.