Thaumaturgy

Chapter 35

Close by Merlin's side, two of the villagers from Ealdor stood together fighting against the waves of soldiers. Merlin could hear the deep breathing and heavy groans of Beanajmin, hair clinging to his face and staring at the atroctiy of battle, beserk in terror.

Merlin joined the frey, his sword stopped in mid swing, slamming into a knight's armor, causing the enemy to lose his balance. The knight turned to face Merlin, his sword blade gleaming, who sighed as he quickly cast him aside to get to his struggling friend.

"Keep your head up" he said softly to Beanjmin.

"I... I didn't think it would be like this" came the reply, the man speaking as though in a trance with piteous recognition in fixed eyes as he saw Merlin.

"C'mon, we'll overcome Uther." Merlin assured him calmingly "just think of the Camelot we will build."

"The Camelot you'll build?" Beanjamin asked, histerically "Merlin, I... I can't."

"You can. And you will. It's what has to be done to save the world Uther is intense on killing. I believe in you. Now look, over there" Merlin gestured to a figure twenty feet away "Stuart needs our help, we all need your help." Beanjamin looked wide eyed, calmed down a little.

"Should we go and save him?" Merlin asked with a smurk "I hear he has a very pretty sister, and you would not believe the soulwords she has written on her arm." Beanjamin smiled a little and gave one single nod. And followed Merlin as he charged to where Stuart fought until, the soldiers were running away, but both Stuart and Beanjamin let out cry and ran after them. Both men still knowing they needed to get as far away from this as they could, but the soldiers still kept coming, their voices angrier and their arms raising with each successive charge, growing louder and louder until finally all of the soldiers seemed to merge into one deafening roar.

Merlin turned away from the pair as Gwaine rushed passed him, in the centre of the field, as the battle continued waging closely, wins frantic and marginal, rain sleeting down at an angle.

As Gwaine pulled his blade clean of his fallen opponent, a cry behind him made him turn, raising his sword in time to catch the approaching soldiers own. Closing in on him, Gwaine's eyes went wide, keeping his breath steady as he swung his sword, colliding with the enemy knights, and with a quick flick both weapons flew out of their hands and into the churnng mud.

"Well that's unfortunate" Gwaine quipped, and swung his fist, connecting with the soldier's nose with a satisfying crack and he staggered back clutching his face.

With a cry of rage the other man threw a punch at Gwaine's head, who pulled back and attempted to parry his opponent's fist. With a swipe of his forearm the man staggered, but before the Irish man could bring up his guard a large punch smashed into him, and this time, striking his jaw, the heavy fist leaving a blooming bruise and knocking him to the ground.

He turned and saw the Camelotean soldier pull a sword from the grip of his fallen comrade before approaching Gwaine again, breathing heavily under the armour, face an anonymou blur of mud and blood. Gwaine looked around; he didn't have a sword of his own to match them, so he quickly retrieved a dagger from the littered bodied and thrust it into one of the soldier's ribs, knocking him back onto the ground, dead.

"You just don't learn your lesson do you" He grumbled, hauling himself up and retriveing his sword. He winced drawing a snarp hiss of breath and, clasping a hand to his side where his thick leather armour and skin had been peirced, before limping back into the thick of the battle with a wry grin, sword flashing in the sun to protect the friends he now though of as family.