Avalon - Chapter 27 - Fire in the Night

Fire in the Night

The plan of Cnut’s magicals quickly became apparent as the fighting began. Instead of engaging Owain’s men directly, they were sending forth wave after of creatures whilst attempting to thin their numbers with spellfire from a distance.

In many ways, it was a good idea, but they had evidently not considered that Owain and his own had already been prepared for such tactic.

Most creatures did not like fire, and despite being commanded to leap into the flames to engage the men, many faltered and were slaughtered by either blade or spell.

Harry had quickly managed to dispel the thick fog obscuring their view of the surrounding forest, and slowly, but surely, they were able to advance on the retreating forces who had chosen to fight for the Danes.

Chopping his way through the neck of a lion, Owain removed his dagger from the holder on his hip and hurled it towards one of the opposing wizards.

With little more than a gurgle, he collapsed to the ground with the blade embedded in his throat.

Even so, his own men remained mostly stationary for the most part, and such a prolonged fight would not favour them.

No, they needed to advance much faster and prevent their foes from continuing to conjure more creatures to intercept them.

“Any ideas?” he asked Harry.

“A few, but none I would consider to be certainly safe.”

“When has that ever stopped you?” Owain snorted amusedly.

Harry nodded with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked towards the ground.

“Cover me!”

Owain obliged, and though he could not see what Harry was doing, he had faith in the other man. He’d not let him down yet, and he would not doubt him now.

“DUCK!”

Owain did not need telling twice, and a series of whistles filled the air, followed by dozens of dull thuds, and then bloodcurdling screams.

Now that the opportunity had presented itself, Owain charged forwards, followed by the rest of his men.

The intention had been to trap them, to pin them into a corner by surrounding them as they made their way through the woodland, but seemingly, that had now failed, and Cnut’s men were no longer eager to fight the Welsh forces descending upon them.

“RETREAT!”

Many immediately followed the order, apparating away from outside the protections they’d erected, but some were not so fortunate to make it that far.

Owain and his men saw to that, and the sound of steel colliding with bone, the almost animalistic snarling of men fighting to the death, and the haunting screams and pleading for life filled the air.

There would be no mercy tonight, and Owain could feel the presence of Death as it arrived to claim the souls of the fallen.

Almost cleaving a man in half, he took a moment to observe what was happening around him and saw Harry once more, both his wand and sword a blur as he fought of two men desperately attempting to make it outside of their own protections.

They didn’t.

Although they fought with the desperation of condemned men, one was quickly relieved of his sword hand and the other crumbled to the ground with a fist-sized hole through his chest.

Harry was covered in the blood of the men he’d slain, and it was an image that would forever be imprinted on Owain Peverell.

He took no joy in it, but Harry did not shy away from what needed to be done.

Owain watched as he dispatched of another four who engaged him, his blade twirling as he relieved one of his head, plunged the sword through the heart of another, and slashed through the torsos of the final two.

Owain followed suit, removing a leg of an attacker just below the knee, before slamming his mailed fist into his face, reducing the discernible features to an unreadable pulp.

“Come Death, come,” he murmured, avoiding a vicious orange curse and returning fire with an offering of his own.

His foe collapsed to the ground as his bones were reduced to dust, and he quickly bled out.

Eventually, the sounds of fighting began to quieten until they ceased, and what would usually be considered a place of tranquillity had been bathed in blood.

“May it nourish the trees so that they might continue to grow,” Owain murmured.

“You know, you’re a troubled man,” Harry snorted as he clapped Owain on the shoulder. “Death and blood. Maybe you should lighten up.”

Owain chuckled as he shook his head.

“You’re hardly one to talk. You are the bloodiest of us all.”

“Do you think I should arrive back at Camelot like this?” he asked with a grin.

Owain nodded as he looked down at his own clothing.

He too wore his share of the spilled blood.

“It would certainly send a message, don’t you think?” he replied with a grin.

“That we are completely insane and worship horror and violence?”

“That’s not such a bad reputation to have in a war. Maybe we should even string this lot up somewhere for Cnut to find. It might make him think twice.”

Harry shook his head.

“You’re going to do it regardless of what I say, aren’t you?”

Owain nodded gravely.

“They are coming to kill us all, Harry. They will rape and murder every single woman they reach and take the entirety of Wales. I say we give them a reason to reconsider their actions or send these as a warning at the very least. There is not a damned thing I wouldn’t do for our people right now.”

“I’m not disagreeing,” Harry assured him. “I was just thinking of where to leave them.”

Owain hummed thoughtfully.

“I have an idea,” he murmured. “ALL OF YOU, GATHER UP THE DEAD,” he instructed. “Let us show the bastards what it is they will face if they choose to continue on this path.”

(Break)

“We must prepare,” Rowena murmured.

They had sat in silence for some time after Godric had explained what he’d learned from Bolga. The idea of a war against the goblins was not something that would sit right with any, especially those who knew just how dangerous the beastly creatures could prove to be.

The Wizard’s Council would be dismissive of the threat until they realised the magnitude of what they were facing, but the four Founders had seen enough of the world between them to know such a tact would be foolish.

The goblins were practitioners of their own magic, and they were excellent warriors with mundane weapons in hand.

Such a war would indeed be disastrous, and yet, there seemed to be little that could be done to prevent it.

“We must fortify the school further,” Salazar urged. “Hogwarts will likely become a sanctuary for those who wish to avoid what is coming.”

“We will,” Godric assured him. “We must build our supplies and ensure we have everything ready we might need.”

“Do you think the goblins will come here?”

Godric frowned at the question and felt a sudden wave of protectiveness fill him.

“If they do, I will ensure that they regret it,” he growled. “Bolga might be my friend but that friendship only goes so far. Now, we must discuss what steps to take.”

“All of them,” Salazar returned. “We do whatever is necessary to keep those within our walls safe from any outside threat. The world is not what it was when we first built the castle, and we must make sure our protections reflect that.”

Godric nodded his agreement.

Learning of the goblins’ intentions was not a welcome revelation, but it was indeed a threat that could not be taken lightly or ignored.

(Break)

“My scouts are reporting that the fighting ended hours agon,” Myrddin informed Arthur. “They have not entered the woodland, but all is silent within.”

Arthur nodded as a frown creased his brow.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think that if Cnut’s men were victorious, we would know about it by now.”

“Or that they might use a victory as cover to press forward.”

“Perhaps,” Myrddin acknowledged, “but I am not so sure. Cnut is not known for his subtlety. That is why he marched so brazenly into Wales in the first place.”

“I don’t like it,” Arthur sighed.

“The wait is always worse than the fighting,” Lancelot broke in.

Arthur nodded and stood as one of the guards from the tower entered the throne room to address the gathered group.

“They’re back, my king.”

“Then why do you look so uneasy?” Arthur questioned.

The guard swallowed deeply as he shook his head.

“I-I don’t know how to explain it.”

He needn’t have to.

Only a moment later, the door opened once more and Arthur balked at the sight of the men who entered. Each of them were covered in blood, and some even in lumps of flesh and entrails hanging off the clothing they’d fought in.

He’d never seen such a macabre sight, and yet, each of them were smiling, only adding to the sinister appearance of the Welshman.

There was a reason they had not washed, and it seemed to be having the desired effect on those within the room.

“What, did you eat them?” Bors asked.

“Only their souls,” Owain Peverell answered, his smile widening, exposing his bloody teeth. “The men and beasts we met will not bother us anymore.”

“Beasts?” Arthur asked.

“Wolves, lions, and many other unpleasant creatures.”

Arthur cursed under his breath.

“Are any of you hurt?”

Owain shook his head.

“No, but we are hungry.”

“Then I will send for food,” Arthur assured him, “and perhaps order some baths to be drawn for you all.”

“That won’t be necessary. We will clean up after we have eaten.”

The sizable group sat on the floor and talked amongst themselves, and when the food arrived, they did not even wash their hands before eating.

It was quite the statement, and Arthur, for the first time, was glad that he’d agreed to avoid attempting to take the lands these men came from.

They were not like any other he’d ever met, and even Myrddin was quite unsettled by how they’d returned to Camelot.

Nonetheless, they had done so in victory, and despite the horror they had brought with them, Arthur could not be more pleased with the result.

“Hell, that lot are terrifying, aren’t they?” Lancelot asked.

“They are.”

“It’s a message to us as much as it is to the Danes.”

Arthur frowned and gestured for his friend to elaborate.

“They are telling you not so subtly that this is what awaits anyone who faces them on the battlefield,” the man explained. “Would you want to find yourself fighting them?”

Arthur frowned as Owain Peverell’s men laughed amongst themselves, undeterred by the blood and gore that covered them.

The only two amongst them that were not raucous was Owain and Harry.

The two were sharing a quiet conversation, both appearing grim.

“They make for quite the sight, my king,” Myrddin interjected. “I think I am going to visit the woodland for myself to see what it is they left behind for Cnut to find.”

“What are you expecting?”

“Nothing godly or good,” Myrddin answered darkly, offering the king a nod before leaving the throne room.

“Still want to cross blades with him?” Arthur asked Lancelot.

He nodded thoughtfully.

“As an ally, I do not fear what sorcery he is capable of.”

“Sorcery,” Arthur murmured.

He’d seen Myrddin do exceptional things from time to time, things that shouldn’t be possible, but hearing what both Leofric and Tristan had witnessed went far beyond his own experiences of what the druids of the land were capable of.

Still, it was inevitable that he would see it for himself soon enough, and though he did not long for the war ahead to gain his kingdom, he was eager for it to be over with.

(Break)

“What’s on your mind, Harry?” Owain asked.

The other man shook his head.

“So many things here do not make sense. It’s almost as though it’s a cauldron full of too many volatile ingredients that will eventually explode.”

Owain hummed.

“Tristan and his father,” he mused aloud. “Lancelot and the queen, and then there’s Myrddin. I cannot fathom what reason he has to interfere so deeply in the affairs of the mundane.”

“Because he believes he is on a path set out for him by fate,” Harry replied. “He is a stargazer and according to him, they are guiding him to guide Arthur.”

“The stars are open to interpretation by those who choose to read them,” Owain pointed out. “Any fool can manipulate what they see to fit whatever agenda they have. It’s imprecise magic.”

“And yet, there is something undeniable to it all,” Harry sighed.

“Do you believe in Fate, Harry?”

“As much as I do in Death since I met you and your father, but I do not put faith in those that read the stars, Owain. How can I not believe in it after all that has happened? Fate is the reason I am here, for better or worse.”

“There is still much you are not telling me.”

“There is, but I will share it with you,” Harry assured him.

“And I expect it is quite the tale,” Owain chuckled.

Harry nodded.

“I think I’m going to check on Gwyneth.”

“You are certain her son is his?”

“I am, and if it is true, she and the boy might be in danger.”

“Arthur does not…”

Harry shook his head.

“No, oddly, the king is the one person here I believe to have true intentions. I even think the country might just be damned better off with him overseeing it, but there are those here I do not doubt would see both removed the equation.”

“Myrddin.”

“And the queen,” Harry murmured. “I promised them, Owain. I gave them my word they would be safe.”

“They will be in the Hollow.”

“I know, but I have to be sure. I don’t like it. I do not trust Myrddin and these things have a way of getting out.”

Owain nodded his agreement and clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“You’re a good man, Harry,” he said sincerely. “Go. When we return, I will ensure that she has a safe home for her to raise her son. Perhaps you should explain what you know to my father.”

“I will, and I’ll return shortly. I just need to see that they’re both well.”

“Will you tell Arthur?”

Harry released a deep breath.

“It is not my place to do so. I do not believe he would do anything to pose a threat to them, but that would likely be out of his hands. Maybe when the boy is older the king should know the truth, but for now, it is too risky.”

“I agree,” Owain replied.

Harry offered him an appreciative smile before leaving the hall, and Owain pondered just what it was that had led the man to being here.

One thousand years into the future must’ve been another world entirely, but somehow, it felt as though Harry truly belonged here.

Still, without knowing his full story, Owain knew he might be wrong.

Harry might long to return home and was already looking into ways to make that happen, as was his right.

Nonetheless, Owain didn’t think so.

It was clear that he adored his wife, and all he’d spoken of longing for was the day the fighting would cease and he could live out his remaining years with the woman he loved.

It was such a simple dream, and yet, Owain shared the very same one as his companion.

(Break)

He could immediately feel the ambient magic in the air, and even smell the blood coupling it the very moment he arrived.

Myrddin Emrys had seen much violence throughout his life, but every one of his instincts was telling him that what happened here had been particularly terrible.

As he made his way towards the woodland, the tang of the blood only grew stronger, and other feelings became prevalent, so much so that he shivered in discomfort as the same magic surrounding the church in Godric’s Hollow seeped into his very soul.

Still, such a feeling paled in comparison to what he eventually came upon in a freshly made clearing in the woods.

Bodies hung limply from ropes; some from the neck and others by the ankles, but all had been sliced neatly down the very centre, and the entrails of the men dangled below the mutilated corpses.

Crows adorned each of them, feasting on the soft tissue of the dead.

Already, the eye sockets were empty, but it wasn’t the birds responsible for this.

No, the eyes had been stacked in the middle of a grim arrangement of more bodies on the floor depicting a triangular symbol with a circle inside, and a line running from top to bottom.

“Come Death, come?” Myrddin murmured, reading the words written in so much blood below the mark.

He shivered once more.

What had occurred here had been nothing short of a slaughter, and Owain Peverell had gone to the trouble to send quite the threat to Cnut.

No, not a threat, but a promise, a vow even.

As macabre as it was, the undertone of more such violence is what Myrddin felt in this clearing, and he wondered if he’d made quite the error in judgement in reaching out to Owain Peverell for assistance.

Men who delved into such magic as he felt here were of the very worst kind, and Myrddin could not help but think that he had indeed made a grave mistake, that somehow, the invitation to Peverell had been extended to Death itself, a dark and unforgiving omen.

“It is nearby…”

Myrddin turned towards the sound of the voice before transforming quickly and taking to the sky in his owl form.

It seemed that Cnut and his men had arrived, and that they too would be subjected to the unpleasantness Myrddin had experienced for himself.

It had been a victory for Arthur, regardless of his feelings of what had been done, but even so, Myrddin knew that this was a victory for Owain Peverell more than any other.

The man had indeed left his mark, and it was something that Cnut nor anyone else would ever forget.

Still, if it served to deter the man, or even cause the Danes to hesitate in venturing further into Wales, all that was done here would serve its purpose, and that was something Myrddin would take away from this horror.

(Break)

None had said a word as they’d emerged into the clearing and come upon the sight laid out to greet them.

Cnut was in no doubt that this was a message left for him, a threat from the natives of what would be done to him should he continue on his chosen path.

He felt no shame in acknowledging that whoever had gone to such trouble had struck a nerve with him, but it wasn’t fear he felt more than the anger coursing through his veins.

This was little more than a metaphorical slap follow by someone spiting in his face.

No, this may have been intended as a warning but Cnut took it as a challenge.

“Can you feel that? Why is it so cold here?” one of his men asked.

Cnut looked towards the hooded figure that seemed to always be present now, and he could feel the unease pouring off the druid.

“Death,” the man murmured, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

“Do you hear that?” Cnut chuckled as he kicked a severed head away. “Odin greets us!”

The Danes amongst his forces laughed, but there was no denying wariness mingled in with the amusement, and Cnut could not blame them for their reticence.

Only a fool would ignore the lingering feeling in the air of suffering, of slaughter, and the scent of blood that came with it.

Cnut was no fool, but he would not be deterred either.

“Peverell?” he asked, looking up to see the crows continue to circle above.

“Yes,” the hooded figure answered, pointing towards the symbol left for them to find. “Peverell, and many others.”

Cnut grunted.

“Then we will do the very same to him when we find him,” he chuckled, clapping his companion smartly on the shoulder. “We will leave the very same message in Odin’s name, and the crows shall feast on the corpses of his men.”

The hooded figure nodded.

“I shall gather the rest of mine,” he replied. “I will need all of them to face this.”

“Do what you must,” Cnut said dismissively, “but when the time comes, I want Peverell brought to me on his knees. I will take his head for myself.”

“As you wish,” the man complied before disappearing into the trees.

Cnut took a moment to appreciate all that had been done here for his benefit.

They’d gone to considerable trouble to see it done, and he would do much the same to return the favour.

“We move onwards!” he declared. “Our fallen will be avenged soon enough.”

Once more, he stood at the head of undoubtedly the largest host roaming Britain, and Cnut had no doubt that when he was finished with Wales, it would only grow as he turned his attention back east and tore his way through the rest of the land.

None of the fools who claimed a crown would be able to stop him, and Wales would be but the beginning of his great victory in claiming the entirety of the country for himself.

(Break)

Being back in the village, Harry felt he could breathe freely.

Being in the presence of Myrddin was a rather daunting task in itself. He was doing his utmost to decipher the man, to see what weaknesses he possessed, and at the same time, trying not to give his own strengths away.

Soon enough, he would find himself at odds with the man, and he wanted to give him no advantage.

Harry was taking as many as he could for himself.

In the short time he’d spent at Camelot, he had come to learn the castle well enough but had not yet explored all the nooks and crannies he knew were there.

He would.

Knowing the keep of his enemy would perhaps be one of his greatest assets in the future, and yet, it would not be the only advantage he held.

Hesitating only for a moment, he knocked on the front door of the house Godric had gifted him.

“Who is it?” a timid voice asked.

“Harry.”

The half a dozen locks being undone took a moment to pass, but Gwyneth opened the door and bid him entry.

“Is something wrong?” she asked worriedly.

Harry shook his head.

“No,” he sighed, “but I need you to be honest with me. It won’t change anything, and I certainly won’t stop helping you.”

Gwyneth nodded and swallowed deeply, almost as though she had expected this moment to come.

“Your son, is he’s Arthur’s?”

Gwyneth said nothing for several moments and stared blankly at Harry before bursting into tears and nodding.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she sobbed. “After he came to our keep with his men, we just grew close, and well, we started sleeping together. I thought he would marry me, but Myrddin told him he couldn’t. He’d already secured my father’s loyalty, so it would be a waste of a marriage.”

Harry could only shake his head in response.

“Well, when his wedding to Guinevere was announced, we left, and it was a few months later that I realised I was pregnant. I hid it from everyone except one of my maids who helped me deliver Maxim, but I couldn’t hide him for long. My father would not allow me to hide him from the world. He said that it was my responsibility to carry my shame for all to see. So I did. I am not ashamed of my son, Harry.”

“Nor should you be,” Harry sighed. “When I realised who his father was, I decided not to tell your father, and I won’t, unless you want me to.”

Gwyneth shook her head.

“No, he turned his back on us. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

“Very well, and for now, I do not think it is wise we tell anyone else. I think that Arthur is a good man, and I do not doubt he would want to help you, but Myrddin and the queen are another matter entirely. I do not trust either of them.”

“Why not?” Gwyneth asked curiously.

“I think the less you know, the better,” Harry responded thoughtfully.

“But you think Arthur is good?”

“I do,” Harry answered sincerely. “I think his intentions are pure and that he will be a great leader, if he does not allow himself to continue being manipulated by those around him. Camelot is a disaster waiting to happen. I am just hoping the place does not implode before the Danes reach it.”

“Will they make it so far?”

Harry nodded.

“It is inevitable, but they will not breach the walls. We will see to that.”

Gwyneth released a deep sigh.

“You will be safe here,” Harry assured her. “I will speak with Ignotus and tell him what I know, but he will keep it to himself. Just in case something happens to me, it’s best that you have someone else you can turn to. I trust Ignotus.”

Gwyneth nodded her understanding.

“Have you seen my father?”

“Briefly, but I have not spoken to him. Would you prefer I do not mention you?”

“Not to anyone other than Ignotus. Maxim does not know Arthur is his father, and it is safer that he doesn’t learn of it until necessary. Arthur might be a good man, but that means nothing when it comes to the safety of my son.”

“I agree,” Harry replied. “Well, seeing as it seems you are going to be here for some time, I will see what I can do about finding you a house of your own with some land to farm. Do not worry, all of the villagers help one another, so you’ll have people to teach you how to tend to your crops. That is one of the caveats of living here. We all look out for one another.”

“Of course,” Gwyneth complied, and Harry offered her an encouraging smile.

“You will be fine here for as long as you need to be. When Maxim is a little older, it would be good to squire him. He will learn to fight and how tot end to horses. I expect he might need those skills one day.”

Gwyneth did not seem pleased by the prospect, but that was only because of how protective of her son she was.

Harry understood.

Maxim was all she had left in the world, and their start together had not been the very best, despite the privilege she had grown with.

“I will check in on you again soon,” Harry promised, “but if you need anything, go to Ignotus.”

“Thank you,” Gwyneth offered appreciatively.

With that, Harry left the house.

Housing Gwyneth could prove to either be a blessing or curse in his endeavours, and he hoped for the former.

The task ahead of him was daunting enough without harbouring Arthur’s bastard, but if the man discovered his wife’s infidelity, having an heir in place might just be what the king needs.

For now, however, he was to remain in the dark, and Harry had more than enough to keep him occupied in the interim.

Firstly, he needed to speak with Ignotus, and then he would be needed back at Camelot.

Arthur would march his forces soon enough, and the Danes were unlikely to dither when it came to engaging them somewhere in the Welsh countryside.

(Break)

Harry was with the redheaded woman again, well, he had been.

Morgana remembered little of the conversation the two had shared, but Harry had taken to the sky as he’d left the house and flown laps around the village before descending onto another property.

He didn’t yet know about the threat of the goblins.

Only she, Godric, and likely the other Founders did by now.

She didn’t know what Harry would do, but Morgana doubted he would simply remain with her in the forest when the time came to fight off yet another force determined to subjugate the country.

Between the Danes, Saxons, the Goblins, and even Arthur’s army, whom Harry was helping now, she could not see a future where peace would reign.

Morgana huffed irritably as another wave of nausea washed over her.

The fairy magic seemed to have become stronger once more, and though it mingling with her own wasn’t unpleasant, the bouts of sickness had returned.

Still, it wasn’t as though it was without benefit.

Already she could feel the changes within herself; a feeling that seemed to become more prevalent with each passing day.

Nonetheless, she felt next to useless being stuck here.

Morgana had never envisioned a time she would leave her home for a prolonged absence but given that it was unlikely harry would be returning soon, she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

With a shake of her head, she looked towards the lake through the trees.

She’d not seen the eerie woman emerge in some time, but whenever she looked to where she’d seen her last, the words she’d spoken rang out in her mind.

‘Soon, Morgana Le Fay… soon…’

What that meant, Morgana didn’t know, and why the woman insisted on addressing her as ‘Morgana the Fairy’ still made no sense.

Even so, Morgana knew remaining here for now was for the best whilst she waited for whatever the fairies were doing was complete, even if it was frustrating, to say the least.

(Break)

“Well, that is quite the revelation,” Ignotus sighed. “Fear not, Harry, we will keep her and the boy safe until he is ready to follow his own path. What about you, how are you finding it being around Myrddin?”

“I’m trying not to think about it so much,” Harry replied with a shrug. “One day, we will inevitably come to blows, but for now, I am focused on the Danes.”

Ignotus nodded his understanding.

“Have you spoken to Owain about what is to come?”

“He knows about the time travel, but we’ve not had time to go into the details. For now, I won’t mention why I was brought here. He has to interact with Myrddin, and I do not want to risk the man potentially suspecting something.”

“Perhaps that is wise,” Ignotus agreed. “Owain would likely take it upon himself to attempt to solve your problem for you.”

Harry chuckled amusedly.

“He probably would, but it has to be me and Myrddin. That is what has been decided.”

“Then you learn all you can about him and give nothing away. For now, forgive me, but you are not so important to him that he will pay you much heed, not when he has a Peverell he knows of in his presence. It gives you the opportunity to do your due diligence and prepare for what is to come.”

“That is my thinking on the matter,” Harry returned.

“Good, now, it seems that I have much work to do. There are a few houses that will be suitable for Gwyneth, and I know of a few good men who will be more than willing to help her without asking too many questions. I will likely keep her close to your home, just in case you have need of one another in the future.”

Harry nodded as he stood.

“Thank you, Ignotus,” he said appreciatively.

The man waved him off.

“We are family, Harry. It is what we do for one another. We come together in our times of need, and that will not change.”

“No, it will not,” Harry promised, taking his leave of the Ignotus’s home before transforming into a crow.

He needed to think, and a flight to Camelot would give him enough time to clear his mind in preparation of continuing his work there and beyond.

(Break)

Myrddin could not help but be disturbed by what it was he’d come across in the woodland.

He knew the reputation of the Peverells, had experienced the eeriness of Ignotus Peverell for himself on both occasions he’d visited Godric’s Hollow, but nothing had prepared him for the scene he’d come upon.

“Was it so terrible?” Arthur asked.

Myrddin nodded.

“Yes, but this is war, my king. We must be willing to do to our enemies what they will undoubtedly do to us. I cannot condemn Owain when Cnut would treat us much worse. My only concern is what the response will be. Cnut will not take what happened kindly.”

“You do not believe it will deter him?”

Myrddin shook his head.

“No, it will not. It will only embolden Cnut, and he will not stop until his head is removed from his shoulders.”

“Then that is what we will do,” Arthur decided. “God will forgive us when Brittain has been saved.”

“That he will, Arthur.”

The young king seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Myrddin, and yet, he needn’t to.

In many ways, what Owain had done was necessary to demonstrate that the Welsh would not simply allow Cnut to have his way with them, but it was the undertone of the message that bothered the wizard so.

Owain had wanted Myrddin to see what he and his men had done, to warn him just as much as they were warning the Danes.

“What is it, Lancelot?” Arthur asked worriedly as the man barrelled breathlessly into the room.

“I think you should see for yourself,” Lancelot replied, gesturing for them to follow.

They did so, and he led them through the upper levels of the castle until they found themselves on the battlements.

Immediately, Myrddin smelled burning, and as he looked towards the horizon, he could only shake his head.

From his vantage point, it appeared as though the entirety of Wales beyond Camelot had been set ablaze, but only a mile or so away from the keep was a separate fire entirely devoted to one symbol.

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked worriedly.

“I have seen it before,” Myrddin murmured. “When I visited Daneland some years ago and they were fighting among themselves. It means Death.”

Owain Peverell had invited the being, and it appeared as though Cnut was only more than willing to comply.

It was a chuckle to his left that pulled Myrddin from his musings, and as he turned to face the man who laughed, he truly understood the meaning of a godless man, or in Owain’s case, one who believed in something more sinister.

“Do you see that? Cnut has answered the call,” he snorted. “Now, let us see how he greets Death when it comes for him.”

A wave of cold magic seemed to emanate from the man as he glared towards the flame, and the crowing of a crow landing on one of the battlements nearby seemed only to accentuate his point.

The curious bird seemed to be staring at the fire too, and as it took to the sky once more, it flow towards the flames, cawing loudly as it did so.

Myrddin watched as the symbol was doused, but when it was, there was no longer any sign of the crow.

“Come Death, come,” Owain Peverell whispered. “I think it is best you prepare your men, Arthur. It seems as though the Danes have arrived before you were ready for them.”

He did not seem fazed that such a large force was so nearby, and as Arthur looked towards Myrddin, he merely nodded his agreement.

The Danes were here, and a pivotal war was truly about to get underway.