Merthur

The Journey

Merlin practically flew through the forest, his brown messanger bag slapping his sides. He pumped his arms and crouched for a milisecond, launching off the ground and over a log. He didn't give himself any time to recover, and instead ran straight ahead, fury and determination blazing in his turquoise eyes. He reached the clearing and without slowing a bit, flung his arms over the gray mare's neck and swung himself up, kicking her sides with urgency. She tossed her head, whinnying and racing off into the trees at a gallop. Merlin was impatiant, so he brushed her sides again, clicking his tongue.

"Come on, come on . . . " Merlin whispered through clenched teeth, feeling her accelerate under his gentle heels. They cleared the trees and were racing over a barren meadow that sprouted one, tiny blue flower. The horse was very nervous in this place, so she ran faster, her neck extending with each stride. By the time they were out of the valley, the horse's nostrils were flaring and her hoofbeats were more clumsy. Merlin wanted to let her trot to help her regain her strength, but this quest was taking way too long and all he wanted to do was get called an idiot by Arthur again.

The mare kept galloping until she stumbled over a rock poking out of the soil of the forest they had rode into. Merlin cursed at the top of his lungs and held onto her mane tightly. She got back to her hooves and began to trot over the leaf-strewn ground. Merlin patted her neck and silently wished she had endless stamina. After a few minutes, Merlin urged her to go faster and she obeyed, setting off at her special faster-than-a-gallop speed. They burst out of the forest to see they were on a tight, winding path down a mountain. Merlin caught sight of a glimmer of fog and the edge of a silver lake and whooped. He hadn't known that they resided this close to the lake. He was forced to pull on her light gray mane to slow her down when she almost ran off the side of the jutting edge of the cliff. He cantered along the path, leaping over rocks when there wasn't enough room to safely dodge them.

Soon, Merlin and the horse reached the end of the path and he butted her sides, yelling as they reached the side of the lake. He leaped off the horse and approached the body of shimmering silver-blue water. But then, horror crashed over him.

This isn't Lady Carika's lake! Merlin realized with a start. He hurried backwards, stumbling over a root and falling into the horse's front legs. This was the lake where so much blood was shed. All that blood . . . over him. Guilt slammed blackness over his eyesight and he cried out as it lifted.

"Forward!" Arthur urged his men. The army of five hundred faced one of seven hundred, all because King Alen had taken Merlin hostage to use as a magic provider. He was forced to turn melted lead into gold, forced to make vodoo dolls that would bring the downfall of innocent people, and much more that he didn't ever want to do. The red-clad men of Camelot let out battle shrieks as they charged forward on horses and on foot, holding many varying weapons.

Merlin was tied to a tree guarded by five men, forcd to watch. When he tried to close his eyes, a sword would poke at the thin cloth protecting his stomach and he would bite his lower lip, opening them. He had blinked and when his eyes fluttered open, an arrow flew just by Arthur's neck.

"Arthur!" His voice was a hoarse scream. The king's head flew around, but a sword landed a heavy blow on his shoulder. He had to tun back to slash his sword over the man's chest, block another blow, then stab him through the heart. Many of Camelot's men were on the ground, bleeding, with their eyes glazed over, but many of King Alen's men were as well. Soon enough, there were four hundred and fifty-seven of Camelot's men dead, while swarms of soldiers clad in gold were advancing. Arthur's eyes stretched wide, but he ordered his horse to run forward, followed by his remaining men.

The clash of metal and yells of men were the only things Merlin could hear besides his own, raspy, panicked breathing. He let out a roar as he tried to preform a spell, but the men had ordered his powers be dulled whilst the battle was going on. All that happened was a puff of flame that briefly appeared on the corner of one of Alen's men's capes. He had meant to set the entirety of King Alen's men on fire.

Arthur and many other men had been wounded, and some killed on his behaf. He was stupid, for he had ventured into enemy land and payed the price! Arthur and ten other men were all that was left of the army when King Alen's men were dead. They advanced towards the tree on the edge of the lake and jabbed the five men with blood-covered swords. Arthur reached out and sliced the rope binding Merlin to the tree before collapsing, quickly drying blood escaping his shoulder and head.

Merlin curled in a ball of pure anguish at the memory, breathing out heavily and twitching. This had made him even more determined. He stood up shakily and clambered onto the mare. She gave him a look that said, I pity you, and then began slowly walking off.