Conquest - Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Time passed slowly for Arthur that day. The cheerfulness of the cloudless blue sky was fitting for any summer day but did nothing to warm the cold of the late autumn afternoon. Snow would begin to fall soon and Arthur dreaded it. Winter was harsh and difficult to travel in when the snow piled up four or more feet. If he lived to tell the tale of being captured by King Thomas he would undoubtedly lose men to the cold even as they went out to battle. Such things happened every year.

Arthur and Gawain passed time pacing about the encampment, not venturing too far, but taking stock of the resources Thomas had at his disposal. They agreed that it was a small fort, good for offering food, shelter, and rest for men who patrolled the borders between Thomas and Uther’s kingdoms but not large enough for an invasion. They played a few games of chess but Percival refused to join them. He elected to remain alone in the tent he shared with Gawain, brooding over what he viewed as mistakes in his past.

It had been dark for a couple of hours when Merlin turned up to lead Arthur to dine with King Thomas. Gawain clapped him on the shoulder as Arthur donned a scratchy but warm cloak. 

“If he kills you, I’ll die trying to kill him,” Gawain vowed.

Merlin snorted in laughter. “I doubt any killing will happen during dinner. Thomas is a civilized man, not a barbarian like Uther Pendragon.”

Merlin stared hard at Arthur, daring him to defend his father. Gawain opened his mouth to respond but Arthur silenced him with a raised hand.

“We should get going. We don’t want to keep His Majesty waiting, do we?” Arthur said. He looked back at Gawain. “I’ll bring you and Percival something sweet for desert.”

“Make sure she has dark hair. Oh, I know! How about that pretty little cunt you used earlier today?” Gawain said, smirking at Merlin.

Arthur closed his eyes and moaned as Merlin shoved pushed past him. He held up a hand and said something unintelligible. Gawain soared through the air, going more than ten feet before landing with a painful grunt on the frozen soil.

“Please, wait!” Arthur pled as he rushed to put himself between Gawain and Merlin.

“That was the king’s daughter he insulted!” Merlin shouted. He was skinny, Arthur noted, but wiry and undoubtedly stronger than he appeared. Even without magic he could probably do some damage in a fight.

“He was out of line. I will discipline him myself. Just please, no more magic, and don’t tell King Thomas. Gawain can be foul mouthed and stupid but he’s loyal—to me I mean—and he meant no harm personally to Lady Guinevak, I’m sure. Please…let me deal with him.”

“I want him lashed.”

“I’ll die before I let you flog me, warlock,” Gawain swore, getting up stiffly from the ground.

“Oh, Gawain…” Arthur aimed several curses at his cousin and raked his fingers through his hair.

“I cannot flog him,” Arthur said.

“He will not speak of Lady Guinevak in such terms and escape proper punishment.”

“No food,” said Arthur, thinking quickly. “Do not feed him tonight or all day tomorrow.”

“Your other knight will share his food with this one,” Merlin said.

“Then do not feed either of them,” Arthur suggested.

“That isn’t fair to Perce!” Gawain shouted.

“Then you should have thought before you opened your mouth to speak against Lady Guinevak!” Arthur shouted.

“I’m putting him in the stocks. Neither man will eat until supper tomorrow,” Merlin said.

“Agreed,” Arthur said quickly.

Merlin was still hot with anger as he and Arthur moved away, heading into the darkness of the tree line. Arthur looked back at Gawain, who watched after them with a miserable look on his face. Arthur prayed that Gawain had learned a lesson about keeping control of his tongue but he doubted it. Gawain was an incorrigible hothead.

 Merlin called over a couple of guards and issued the orders for Gawain’s punishment, including the order not to feed Percival lest he try to sneak food to Gawain. Once that was done they started off toward King Thomas’s tent. The path to the tent was lit with spheres of fire that floated in mid-air. They burned brightly, and when Arthur held a hand up to one he felt welcoming warmth against the palm of his hand.

Four tents had been set up in the forest between the trees. One tent took up most of the small clearing. Three more sizeable tents, each one easily ten times the size of what Arthur had been provided with, could be seen spread out on either side of the main tent. Arthur supposed the biggest tent acted as King Thomas’s court while he was out in the field, away from his castle.

“Don’t attempt to figure out which tent belongs to the king,” Merlin warned. “If you make an attempt on him—”

“I’m not a fool, Merlin. I wouldn’t dare. I wish to come out of this alive and whole,” Arthur assured him.

Merlin preceded Arthur inside and announced his arrival. Five people were already seated, two of whom Arthur could immediately place.  The main table that had been set up directly opposite the tent entrance was long enough for five men, though only three were seated at it. King Thomas sat in the center. Queen Minerva sat to his left.

On Thomas’s right sat a skinny, pallid man with beady black eyes and a balding pate. The little hair he had was graying and greasy. He had a scraggly, unkempt beard covering a weak chin. Though Arthur had never met him, he assumed this man was Vortigern.

Two other tables had been set up to face one another, set up long way at the ends of Thomas’s table to form a U shape. On the table to Arthur’s left were an array of foods and servants standing ready to serve.

Seated at the table on Arthur’s right were two young women. He recognized Guinevak from her earlier visit. Beside her sat a woman who truly captured Arthur’s attention. He knew she must be Thomas’s eldest daughter, Guinevere. Guinevak possessed her mother’s exceptional beauty and grace, but Guinevere possessed her father’s nobility and sense of strength. She wasn’t the beauty that her mother and sister were, but she was striking and lovely all the same.

Guinevere…She was a warrior and a lady, renowned as an archer with unrivaled skill. She was known to be fierce and was called her father’s greatest asset, even more so than Merlin and his dragons. Something about the proud line of her straight back and the unwavering steadiness of her brown eyes stirred something deep inside Arthur.

This was a woman not to be trifled with. This was a woman who could possibly equal him on the battlefield. This was a woman who could not be easily conquered, and Arthur knew, in that moment, that he wanted Guinevere more than anything else in God’s creation.

*****

Dinner was an uncomfortable, overly polite affair. On the surface the seven of them looked like old friends enjoying a reunion after a long absence. Underneath, however, the truth of Arthur’s circumstances were not forgotten. Thomas was the enemy, no matter how civil his behavior toward Arthur and his men. He gave quarter to magicians and their familiars. He could not be trusted.

So Arthur told himself.

Merlin, who sat to Guinevak’s right, leaving Arthur sitting between the two princesses, was as much a threat, if not more, to Uther’s interests as Thomas was. This was Merlin, a messiah among his kind. He had a kingdom of his own within Thomas’s realm, and it consisted of all people who possessed magic within, people who used it, trusted it, and wished to see it free across the nation. They all answered to Merlin. Even Nimue, who had been hailed for decades as the most powerful priestess of the Old Religion, conceded Merlin’s superiority and unparalleled powers.

As Arthur cut his meat and engaged King Thomas in conversation, he wondered how his father’s army hoped to prevail against Thomas when he had such an advantage. It was true that Uther hypocritically used mercenaries who possessed magic to give his army a fighting chance, but they had no one, no thing, that could compare to Merlin and his dragons.

Eventually Arthur’s eyes wandered to Guinevere, who sat beside him cutting her meat into small bites and studiously ignoring him. Guinevak chatted with Merlin, trying to convince him to treat her to a display of fireworks after dinner.

“At least have your dragons do something entertaining,” she begged, simpering.

A foot suddenly touched the inside of Arthur’s calf. He looked up. Guinevak was still talking with Merlin, staring at the young magician with big, brown eyes full of youthful desire. He couldn’t understand why. Merlin was terribly skinny with messy hair, floppy ears, and frighteningly pronounced cheekbones.  Perhaps magic made him an interesting lover and that was why Guinevak was completely taken with him.

“Magic is not to be used for tricks, and I will not subject my dragons to the humiliation of being forced to entertain humans.”

“What do you mean by ‘entertain humans’? You say that as though it’s something disgraceful,” Guinevak pouted. 

“You see dragons as filthy, fire breathing beasts. They see humans as just filthy, not to mention extremely dangerous, beasts. With the exception of me, dragons believe humans are a scourge upon the earth, wild and frightful, much like they appear to you.”

The foot crept above Arthur’s knee. He looked away from Merlin, shocked at this new insight into dragons, and found Guinevere looking at him. Her eyes darted away, and he knew that it was her foot that crept up his thigh. He smiled.

“Something amuses you, Pendragon?” Vortigern caught Arthur smiling at Guinevere and took offense.

“Just what Merlin said about the dragons,” said Arthur.

“What was so amusing about that?” Merlin asked defensively. The foot slid away from his thigh. It had been so tantalizingly close to his—

“Well?” Merlin pressed.

“Nothing was amusing. I just…I’m surprised by the revelation is all. This is the first time I’ve ever considered how people might appear from a dragon’s perspective.”

“Yet I’m sure this newfound knowledge does nothing to make you respect them as intelligent creatures with feelings and—”

“Merlin,” Thomas said warningly. Out of respect for the king, Merlin dropped the subject and resumed his banter with Guinevak.

“So, tell me how you came to be in my territory, Arthur,” Thomas asked, focusing on Arthur and setting down his fork.

“It was a mistake, My Lord. My men and I were checking the border towns and we wandered too far north, into your lands. We didn’t realize our mistake until we came upon your totems. By that time the dragons had spotted us and we panicked.”

Thomas nodded and studied Arthur. “Merlin, what do you make of his explanation?”

“It fits with what I witnessed while patrolling from the sky,” Merlin agreed. “Though he could be lying.”

“I am not lying. I understand what it means to intentionally cross your borders without invitation, Your Majesty. I would never break the treaty intentionally.”

“Yet intentions do not excuse foolishness,” Vortigern said. “You can unwittingly step into a snake pit but you will die if you are bitten all the same.”

“You liken His Majesty’s kingdom to a pit of snakes, do you?” Arthur retorted.

Vortigern’s face suddenly looked pained, as though he’d bitten his tongue. Guinevere, Arthur noted, had an almost unnoticeable smirk on her face. Almost unnoticeable. Arthur felt his chest puff up.

“Of course not!” Vortigern groused. “I meant that just because you do not—”

“We know what you meant,” Thomas said. Even he looked mildly amused by Arthur’s dig. “Swear to me, on your good name, Arthur Pendragon, that you did not intentionally violate the treaty I have struck with your father.”

“My Lord, really! He’ll just lie to save his own neck! This is an act of war,” Vortigern protested.

“War is exactly what will follow if I wrongfully execute Uther’s only son,” Thomas reasoned. He looked at Arthur with cool, steady eyes. “Well, Arthur? Do you swear it?”

“I swear, Your Majesty, my men and I did not intentionally violate the treaty you have struck with my father. We came across your borders quite by accident and I am deeply sorry for my transgression.”

Thomas smiled and bowed his head. “I believe you. I also forgive your transgression. You and your men are free to go on the morrow. I do hope that word of your kind treatment while in my custody will reach your father.”

“Indeed it will, My Lord,” Arthur promised. He bowed his head, doubting his father would care how kindly Thomas had treated him. Uther would use his son’s capture as an excuse to declare the treaty broken and wage war.

Arthur’s heart was heavy at this knowledge. He’d sparked war, though he knew his father would have eventually moved against Thomas regardless. Arthur just didn’t like the idea of being used as Uther’s excuse for further bloodshed.

“Merlin, see Arthur back to his tent. Make certain he and his men have plenty of warming coals and extra blankets to keep warm tonight,” Thomas ordered.

“My Lord,” Merlin acknowledged, bowing his head. Arthur’s stomach clenched. He hoped Merlin wouldn’t tell the king of Gawain’s earlier foolishness, and thankfully the wizard was true to his word. They left the tent without the king being any the wiser of Gawain’s punishment.

“I will retire as well, father,” Guinevere said, speaking for the first time that night. She had a lovely voice. It was very soft, like fine linen, and Arthur wondered what it would sound like in his ear as he laid kisses upon her neck.

Guinevak stood and looped arms with Merlin before turning to her father. “Father, has it ever occurred to you to marry Guinevere or I to Arthur? A marriage would surely bring peace between you and Uther.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Guinevak,” Merlin groused.

Thomas heaved a longsuffering sigh. “Good night, child,” was all he offered in response.

Chapter two

Chapter four

Conquest - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Arthur’s head was aching in time with his heart. With each pound his head throbbed and sent a sharp, racing pain down his neck and into his chest. He moaned, feeling his stomach churn. He tried to sit up so that if he had to vomit he could do so on the floor, rather than drown in it,  but he was too weak to move.

The incessant itching was the worst of it. Arthur hadn’t felt this way since he’d played in some poison ivy when he was eight years old and his entire body had broken out. He weakly, miserably, scratched at his body wherever his fingers could reach.

Merlin’s face suddenly appeared over him. The sorcerer lifted Arthur’s head and forced something bitter into his mouth.  He could hear Gawain and Percival somewhere nearby making gagging noises as they, too, were force-fed something foul.  Arthur had just enough time to see that he was in a tent, before passing out again.

When Arthur next awoke he felt much better. The pain in his body, the maddening itching in his skin, were both gone but he felt weak. Merlin sat across from him, chin in hand, watching him. A chime floated magically in mid-air, and every time it tinkled Arthur felt a little stronger.

“Healing chime,” Merlin said, nodding at the pretty wooden chime. It bobbed softly in mid-air and continued making a soft, enticing sound though there was no breeze to stir it. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

“Are you?”

Merlin grinned. “Of course. I promised His Majesty that I would bring you in alive. I keep my promises.”

Arthur managed to sit up enough to lean on his elbows. He was in a tent large enough to accommodate a cot, a small wooden bathtub, and a rickety looking table. “Where am I? Where are my knights, Gawain and Percival?”

“They’re outside, stretching their legs. His Majesty has ordered that you join him for dinner this evening. I’ll see to it that you’re cleaned up and fed some breakfast.”

“How long have we been here?”

“Two days. The dragons that carried the three of you in poisoned you,” said Merlin. He looked vaguely amused. “Not enough to kill, just enough to make you extremely sick.”

“And you think that’s funny?” Arthur groused at the smirk on Merlin’s face.

Merlin nodded, “A little.”

“I wish to speak with King Thomas now.”

“You will see him at his pleasure, Prince Arthur, not a moment before. You will bathe before you go before him.” A vaguely disgusted expression pinched Merlin’s face. “Believe you me, you need it.”

Merlin stood, whispered something, and a bathtub across the tent began to gurgle quietly. Soon it was filled with steaming water. Merlin stood and crossed the tent in a few strides.

“Do you think he means to execute us?” Arthur asked the question, hating the nervousness in his voice.

Merlin looked back and Arthur was struck by the gleam of wisdom and sympathy in the warlock’s eyes. He very much seemed like an old soul in a young man’s body.

“I honestly don’t know, Arthur. Thomas is a merciful man. He is fair and honest. Whatever happens, rest assured his decision will be one that was made fairly.”

Arthur nodded, thankful for Merlin’s honesty. He was also thankful that Merlin didn’t have that annoying smirk on his face when he gave his opinion on the fate of the prince and his knights.

The opening of the tent flap brought in a cool breeze that made the healing chime practically jangle. Arthur felt a wonderful surge of strength and he rose up to stretch, though the shaft of bright sunlight from the open tent flap was like a knife to his eyes.

With watering eyes, Arthur stripped down, thankful to be out of the filthy clothes he’d worn. They smelled of horses and sweat, as did he. One bath probably wouldn’t be enough to wash away two days worth of stink but it would certainly help.

The water was hot without being uncomfortable. All the tension in his muscles began to drain away. It felt so good a little contented moan escaped him. He smiled and lathered up, when the tent flap opened once again. At first Arthur thought Merlin had returned with breakfast, but a soft female voice proved him wrong.

“Sire?”

Arthur looked back and saw that a young woman had entered his tent. She was lovely with brown skin and long, curly hair tied elegantly atop her head. Her dress was made of a shiny material that distinguished her as having a position as the maid of a royal rather than just a common servant. She smiled coyly and approached with a tray in one hand, and some folded clothes in the other. She set the tray on the small table provided for Arthur, and then put his new clothes beside the tub.

“Shall I wash your back, sire?”

She’s certainly accommodating, Arthur thought with a smile, and leaned forward to give her access to his back. Accommodating and beautiful...

“Are you the king's maid?” Arthur asked, while she rolled up her sleeve and then dipped a bar of soap into the tub and began rubbing it over his back.

“You could say that,” she said coyly. “So, you’re Prince Arthur. You’re as handsome as they say you are, My Lord.”

The serving girl, it turned out, was more than accommodating—she was outright forward. Her hand reached low into the water and circled his lower back suggestively, and then began to ease around to his front.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, looking up into the girl’s eyes as her hand, slick with soap, eased down to massage his balls. Blood rushed into Arthur’s groin and he moaned as he leaned back into the tub. His cock stiffened in the serving girl’s hand.

“You know what I’m doing,” she replied in a low, throaty tone. “Do you like this?”

“Oh, yes,” Arthur said. The girl’s hand moved faster, working him with expert skill, driving him to the brink of release. Arthur had just reached the cusp of climax when an angry voice interrupted from the tent flap.

“Guinevak!”

The girl turned with a gasp of surprise. Merlin stood at the entrance to the tent, his face thunderous. His eyes literally flashed with a red sheen. Arthur would have been more frightened if he wasn’t desperately aching for release. The girl giggled and withdrew the warmth of her small hand.

“Hello, Merlin. How nice to see you again.”

Guinevak…Through the haze of need fogging his mind Arthur recognized the name, but he couldn’t immediately place it. His eyes went to her clothes again. The material was very rich indeed, now that he paid closer attention. No servant, not even a royal servant, dressed like that.

“You saw me ten minutes ago, when I told you to keep clear of this man. Prince Arthur, meet Lady Guinevak, youngest daughter of King Thomas,” Merlin said tightly, his eyes had not missed the position of her hand in the water before she’d withdrawn from Arthur.

Something told the young prince that Merlin’s anger was grounded in more than loyalty to King Thomas.

“Jealous, Merlin?” Guinevak asked. Arthur shied away from her as much as he could in the small tub, shocked that the king's daughter would behave in such an indecent manner. She was clearly a very mischievous girl.

“Hardly,” said Merlin, but Arthur thought otherwise from the tight set of the sorcerer’s jaw.

“I didn’t know who she was,” Arthur said sincerely.

Merlin didn’t look appeased when he said, “Leave us, Guinevak.”

Though her words were rather brisk, she didn’t look at all offended when she said “I am the king’s daughter and you’re just his pet magician. You don’t presume to order me—”

Merlin, apparently, was going to have none of it. He crossed the small space of the tent in two strides, grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the exit. She giggled again as he pushed her toward the flap, and looked back at Arthur.

“It’s been a pleasure, Prince Arthur. I shall have to visit you again sometime.”

Merlin shut his eyes, trying to keep control of his temper. “Your men await you outside. You have some freedom to walk, but don’t wander too far from your tents.”  

Once he was sure he was alone, Arthur had little choice but to finish what Guinevak started. He concentrated on the beauty of her face and imagined what it would be like to thrust inside her warm wetness until he finally climaxed. Once he finished, it became clear to Arthur that the water in the tub had gone cold with unnatural speed.

Outside, Arthur found Gawain and Percival huddled around a small fire. They warmed their hands and spoke in quiet tones.  The encampment was a sizeable one with well over six hundred men, as far as Arthur could estimate, and that figure only included what he could see. Thick columns of smoke rose in the forest for miles around, indicating there were even more men sheltered in the thick pines.

The hill Arthur stood on sloped gently downward and ended in a long flat area. Three male dragons, the ones who had carried—and poisoned—Arthur and his men into this camp, sunned themselves near the tree line. Their female partners were close by. A shepherd led twelve sheered sheep toward the dragons who promptly snatched them up in their powerful jaws, biting the animals in half before finishing off the second portion. Two sheep were awarded to each dragon.

Arthur recognized the oldest of the three as Kilgarrah. By tradition the remaining females were his for mating, but Arthur had heard talk that he’d given the other two over to mate with the last two males in an effort to save the species. Allegra had lost the last of her eggs. Arthur wondered if they would be successful, or if they would fail, making Uther responsible for killing off the dragons.

Further downhill, in another flat area, was an impressive archery range. Target boards had been set up, as well as target dummies. The archers fired in time with a command given by a distinctively female voice. In fact, Arthur noticed that all of the archers had one thing in common besides perfect aim—they were all very slender with unmistakably feminine curves.

“So, it’s true what they say about Thomas’s archers,” said Gawain. He and Percival both watched the women practice.

“The Sisterhood of the Bow actually exists,” Percival said. “I thought the men who fought at Othanden were making that up.”

“Obviously not. How do you two feel?”

Gawain shrugged. “Considering I’ve been poisoned by dragons, I think I feel pretty good. My head still hurts a little.”

“Who was that woman who came into your tent?” asked Percival.

“Guinevak, Thomas’s youngest daughter.”

“What was she doing in your tent?”

“Never you mind,” Arthur replied, and sat down on a tree stump. Gawain laughed and nudged Percival, who still gazed in the direction of the dragons.

“Can you believe it? Enemy princesses throw themselves at this man. However do you do it, My Lord?”

“Shut up, Gawain. We don’t need any of the men here getting word back to Thomas about her visit. Isn’t that right, Perce?”

Percival failed to look back or acknowledge Arthur.

“Perce?” Gawain inquired.

“What?”

“Are you still moping about those cursed dragon eggs?”

“They weren’t chickens, Gawain, they were dragons! I may as well have murdered babies.”

“Keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed. He couldn’t wrap his mind around Percival’s odd behavior. Several people wandering by had turned to look at them.

“Don’t ever put those creatures on par with us, Perce,” Gawain replied coolly. “They’re creatures of magic. Our queen is dead because of their ilk, and many of our brothers have died in battle because of what they’ve done. We’re better than them.”

“Are we?” Percival said defiantly. “I sometimes wonder. They lived peaceably, never doing harm to anyone and then, because of one witches mistake our king began slaughtering them. We’ve done things…terrible things…for what?”

“You’re losing your way, brother,” Gawain said. His face was flushed in anger.

Percival looked at Gawain in disgust and anger. “Maybe I’ve found it, brother.”

Percival turned from them and entered the tent that had been given for him and Gawain. If it had been equipped with a door Percival would have slammed it hard enough to splinter it.

“May I bunk with you tonight?” Gawain said. “I fear I may strangle him. The things he just said about your father! I’m surprised you didn’t put your fist to his jaw.”

“He’s under a great deal of pressure, Gawain. He has regrets.”

“We all have regrets, Arthur, but we don’t cry like little girls about them.”

One of Arthur’s eyebrows arched. “Is your life free of sorrow, Gawain? Have you nothing in your past you would undo?”

Gawain shrugged, looking as though he would like to change the subject. “I stand by the things I’ve said and done in my life. Otherwise I’d go mad.”

“Then I envy your peace of mind,” Arthur replied heavily.

Chapter one

Chapter three

Conquest - Chapter 1

 

Arthur held Guinevere’s life in his hands. She held his heart in hers.

Synopsis: After losing his wife to magic, Uther Pendragon is determined to take over Albion and unite it under his rule, while eradicating all traces of magic and those who would practice it. At first Arthur is determined to rid the kingdom of magic and make his father sole king of Albion. Then Arthur meets Guinevere, the daughter of the only king powerful enough to stand in Uther's way, and everything begins to change. 

This story is dedicated to Wikked Angel. You've been a blessing to me more than you will ever know. I love and appreciate you. *hugs*

 

Part 1 - The Prince Captured

1.

Prince Arthur Pendragon spurred his horse mercilessly in a bid for freedom he knew would only elude him.

On either side of Arthur, some distance apart, were two of his closest friends. To his left was Sir Gawain, his cousin and one of his best friends. To his right was Sir Percival, the second closest friend Arthur had. All three men pushed their steeds to the breaking point. When the horses gave way, they would continue on foot in a vain effort to reach the safety of their territory.

The young prince urged his men forward with as much command as he urged the beast beneath him. Though Gawain and Percival were as willing as he, their horses were not. They began to slow despite Arthur's best efforts to keep them going. 

“Ride, damn it!” Arthur shouted. His horse whinnied loudly and reared up in protest. 

Overhead came the sound of the three mighty dragons that pursued them. Their wings beat a steady whooshing rhythm against the wind to keep them airborne. Arthur's horse chomped at the bit and panted from its effort to run at full speed for too long.

“What's wrong with these bloody beasts?” Gawain asked angrily—fearfully.

What will it be like to die by dragonfire? Arthur wondered.

“It's magic,” said Percival. He dismounted and drew his sword. Arthur and Gawain did likewise and came together, each man putting the other at their back so they could defend from any direction.

“Vortigern obviously sided with Thomas,” Gawain said. “Fucking blighter.” 

“Hengist probably threw in his lot with Thomas as well,” Percival added.

“Hush, both of you,” said Arthur, straining his ears to hear what happened around them.

Above them came the steady whoosh of the dragon’s wings. Arthur could see their forms through the breaks in the thick canopy of pines that rose high above them. The wind from their wings caused a tight knot to form in Arthur’s stomach. He painfully swallowed what little spit he had left.

“Females,” Arthur finally said. He could tell by the bright flecks of gold, sapphire, and emerald in their scales. This was even worse than having male dragons after them, for the females were particularly vicious. They weren’t keen on diplomacy, and the idea of granting any sort of mercy to a Pendragon would be a great source of amusement for them—after they’d burned Arthur and his men to a crisp.

“Percival!” a feminine voice called from above. “Come out, coward! Face me!”

“Allegra,” Percival said. “Mate of Kilgarrah.”

“Why is she calling for you, specifically?” Gawain asked.

Percival’s face was flushed from the cold, but it looked an even deeper shade of crimson when he said, “I destroyed her nest last year. She had six eggs. They were her last to birth.”

Gawain looked at Percival in pity. “Percival—”

“She has no idea how much I wish I’d disobeyed Uther,” said Percival.

“Disobedience to your king was not an option. It never is so stop blaming yourself,” Arthur said, but he kept one fact silent to himself: He often had the same kind of regret with regards to his father, and it had begun to happen with more frequency.

Percival suddenly thrust his sword into the frozen ground. It tipped and fell to the hard Earth despite his efforts to drive it deep enough to remain upright. He looked to the sky and shouted out to the dragons above. “Allegra!”

“What the hell are you doing? She’ll pinpoint us,” Arthur demanded.

“I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago,” answered Percival. He attempted to move away from Arthur and Gawain, toward the light of a small clearing in the pines where he would be immediately visible to Allegra and her fellows, but Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

A cry of rage and anguish came from Allegra. Arthur thought it sounded eerily similar to the sound of anguish he’d made upon his mother’s death five years previously. He could feel Allegra’s grief. He more than understood her desire for revenge, but Percival was a long time friend and Arthur wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself in this way.

“Keep your place, Percival. I command it,” said Arthur.

Nimue’s face came to mind, unbidden and unwanted. Arthur pushed her image away along with the deep regret he felt when he thought of her and her kind. 

“You will stay true to your King, Percival, or I will kill you myself!” Gawain hissed. “For God’s sake, they were eggs, nothing more!”

Arthur understood that Gawain’s anger was not on Uther’s behalf, but on behalf of himself. Percival was like a brother to them both in a way that transcended even the knighthood. Losing Percival would be a terrible blow to all of Camelot, Arthur and Gawain especially.

“I deserve to burn for what I did to her and those helpless eggs,” Percival said heavily. 

“Pull yourself together, Perce!” Arthur said desperately. “We’ll get through this, but only if we keep our heads. We need to head south, toward our—”

“Be still, Prince Arthur of Camelot. There will be no travels south. Not now.”

All three turned. A young man stood a few yards away from them, having snuck up on them as they’d conversed. He was tall and lanky, very skinny with big ears and a mop of unruly black hair that was in serious need of a trim. He had some beard stubble that softened the severe line of his jaw. His sharp overly pronounced cheekbones made him look younger than he probably was. 

“Who are you?” Arthur demanded.

“I am Merlin, the last Dragon Lord,” he said, bowing to them. 

The sound of dry tree branches splintering and raining to the ground pulled Arthur, Gawain, and Percival’s attention away from Merlin. The three of them spun on their heels as Allegra and her two companions forced their way through the trees to land in a semicircle before them. Arthur was surprised by this move. Dragons rarely came into the trees where they could be easily hindered since they couldn’t open their wings to take flight.

All escape routes were now gone. They would have to fight their way past the dragons, or past Merlin if they wanted to make a bid for freedom. Getting past Merlin would be as difficult as getting past a hundred dragons.

“There! That is the one who destroyed my children,” Allegra hissed, staring hard at Percival. If her gaze alone could burn all three of them would be piles of ash at that moment. She took in a great breath, and Arthur closed his eyes, prepared for a fiery end.

Merlin quickly spoke using some hard, guttural language, and Allegra exhaled the fire she’d intended to use to destroy Percival, Gawain, and Arthur expelled through the new clearing she and her mates created upon their landing. Some of the broken branches turned to ash even though they weren’t directly touched by the flames. 

My God, Arthur thought, as sweat broke out on his forehead. He couldn’t imagine that kind of heat in a kiln. He couldn’t imagine being capable of that kind of power. He looked at Merlin, the man who boasted complete control over that power, and he experienced a moment of awe.

“Master,” she begged plaintively. “He murdered my young. The last of my eggs! You cannot deny me vengeance. Please!”

Merlin nodded. “I know what he did to you. I am not unsympathetic, Allegra. However I have made a pact with Thomas. A man’s word is his greatest treasure, and I cannot break mine, no matter how badly I want you to have vengeance.” 

Merlin walked past Arthur and approached Allegra. He stretched out a hand and she lowered her head, which was almost as large as Merlin’s entire body, so that he could stroke the bony ridge between her eyes. She made a strange sound that sounded reminiscent of a cat purring. Merlin spoke quietly to her in guttural dragontongue—a language that he was the last to know and use now that all other dragon lords were dead. 

Allegra had a rather narrow, long snout, very delicate for one of her species. Her large eyes—a shocking and beautiful shade of green—had a distinctively feminine almond shape to them. Two long horns extended gracefully from the back of her head. She was smaller than her mate, Kilgharrah, who had also vowed vengeance against Percival, but she was no less fearsome.

“You have done well,” Merlin said in praise to them. “Return to the sanctuary. Allegra, send Kilgharrah to me. Have Fyrane and Baldyr come with him.”

With a deep bow of respect, the three dragons pushed their way through the trees they’d destroyed to land, and once the shower of broken branches settled, Merlin turned back to Arthur and his companions.

“I am the only thing that stands between you and certain death from the dragons. You would do well to cooperate, Prince Arthur.”

“If we don’t?” Gawain said. “Your dragons aren’t here now.”

A smirk passed over Merlin’s face. “I am more than able to defend against all three of you but I would rather not have to. You have entered King Thomas’s borders, a direct violation of his treaty with King Uther. He will want to see you himself. I am to take you to him.”

“He’ll kill us,” Gawain said.

“That is up to him,” Merlin replied calmly.

“I’ll take my chances here,” said Gawain.

He moved forward, sword ready, before Arthur could call him back. He got only a few steps before he fell to the ground. Vines had sprung from the earth and snaked around his feet, binding them together. Others rose from the earth and covered Gawain until he was securely tied. His sword lay a few feet away, completely useless since it was out of his reach.

“Let me go!” Gawain shouted. He’d always taken issue with being bound, or locked in rooms. Confinement was Gawain’s only fear, as far as Arthur knew. Percival knew it too.

“Release him. I promise he will not make another attempt on you,” said Arthur.

“You certainly won’t,” said Merlin. 

Immediately Arthur felt the tightness of vines sprouting from the ground to bind at his feet. He could not cut them away. Soon his entire body was constricted by the things and he lost his grip on his sword.

A feeling of deep weariness overcame Arthur. He collapsed to the hard, frozen ground of the forest floor, his vision shifting from clarity to blurriness. 

Merlin’s voice sounded distant when he said, “When you awake you will be free of your bonds.”

Arthur struggled to remain conscious but it was no good. The world blurred once more before going completely black.


Chapter two