Avalon - Chapter 4 - The Girl in the Forest
The Girl in the Forest
It was only mere seconds upon their arrival in Northumbria that she could feel the presence of the wraiths, or Dementors as Harry referred to them. Rowena watched the boy closely as his grip relaxed around his wand and he shook his head.
“They are here,” he murmured, “but they are not so close.”
He began walking towards one of the settlements only a short distance away and paused before changing directions, his eyes fixed on the sky above.
After a few moments more of walking, Rowena shivered from the growing cold, as did the rest of her companions.
“Are you sure about this?” Godric whispered worriedly.
The boy nodded confidently and proceeded, scarcely blinking as he continued to search for the deeply unpleasant creatures.
It didn’t take long for the cold to grow colder still, and Rowena felt a sense of hopelessness and despair was over her, to the point that she could only focus on the most unpleasant of memories. She remembered being forced into marriage with her husband.
Thomas yet lived, but she’d not seen him for many years.
It was when she was reliving her wedding night that Harry stopped walking and released a deep breath.
“Here they come,” he warned.
The night remained as cold as ever, but there was no sign of the creatures, though barely a few seconds passed them by before Rowena caught a glimpse of the first of them, followed by another until all it seemed she could see was swishing cloaks above.
The wraiths were swarming which meant they intended to feed.
As one, they hurtled towards the five of them, and Harry struck.
“Expecto Patronum!”
Once more, Rowena felt the warmth of the magic wash over her and she immediately felt much better as the enormous stag bounded towards the wraiths, sending them fleeing.
An cacophony of ungodly screeches filled the air, but the stag relentlessly pursued them, goring them with its antlers, its light glowing brighter with each of the cloaked figures it crashed into.
For how long Harry chased and pursued the wraiths, Rowena couldn’t be certain, but by the time they reached the nearby coast, they seemed to be fleeing for their lives.
When he was certain none remained on land, Harry ended the spell, and Rowena joined her colleagues in looking upon the boy in wonder.
Of course, it was a spell none of them knew of, but the power it had taken to produce such an incredible piece of magic was undeniable.
Yes, he was lacking in many important aspects of his education, but all of those things could be taught. What couldn’t be, however, was the sheer power, fortitude, and righteousness he’d demonstrated.
“I think we should get back to the school,” Salazar suggested.
None of the group said anything else, and with Harry being grasped by Godric, they did indeed return to Hogwarts.
“It just won’t work!” Godric groaned irritably having tried the charm for the umpteenth time since they’d returned.
For the most part, each of them had remained in silence after they’d sent Harry to get some well-deserved rest, but Godric had been attempting to replicate the feat.
Despite the boy coming from another time or place a thousand years from now, they knew that they had witnessed something extraordinary.
The power radiating off him had been quite the experience, though Harry seemed unaware of what he’d been able to produce.
There were dozens upon dozens of the creatures, and he’d banished them as though it was a mere minor inconvenience.
“Well, I think it is safe to say that he is quite magnificent. Even by the standards of where he’s come from, that cannot be normal,” Salazar said thoughtfully.
Rowena nodded her agreement.
“It is confidence he is lacking,” Helga broke in. “What he just did is more than exceptional. If he can have the same confidence in everything else, maybe he might just stand a chance.”
“Even Myrddin would have struggled to do what Harry did,” Godric snorted, the name of their former pupil spoken with the same tone of disappointment as Rowena felt in him. “Harry truly is quite something.”
“Expecto Patronum,” Rowena whispered.
She felt a jolt of something within herself, but it was not strong enough to manifest in any visual result, and certainly not anything close to what Harry had produced.
The boy had promised that he would take the time to teach them how to cast the spell, but he had already offered a brief explanation.
It sounded so simple, but what Harry was doing was replicating emotions, and to do so to such a level that he could produce something so spectacular was incredibly advanced Mind Magic, something that Salazar seemed to be pondering.
“What are you thinking?” Rowena asked the man.
“I think that so much remains to be seen, but I am optimistic in his potential. The Mind Arts are exceedingly difficult to grasp the basics of, and he has had no formal training in them.”
“Yet, he has managed to seemingly skip ahead to what most consider to be the peak of what can be achieved using them, save for fully defending oneself from outside intrusions.”
Salazar nodded.
“Perhaps he has experience that he is ignorant to the significance of it. I will discuss it with him when we meet in the morning. Until then, I will not allow myself to get carried away by what we have seen. It was incredible, but it is a single instance with flashes of potential. He still must prove himself.”
With that, he left the office and Rowena turned her attention to the others.
“I stand by what I said,” Helga mused aloud. “He is rough in many disciplines and inexperienced in several, but perhaps he might just rise to the challenges ahead of him.”
She followed Salazar out of the room and Godric nodded.
“I see something in him, Rowena. He may lack experience but he is a quick learner. I will push him beyond his limits in every way imaginable, and it will either break him or he will become something extraordinary. Only time will tell.”
It wasn’t often Godric became excited at the prospect of a new student.
Most that passed through the halls of the castle came to learn how to merely wield and control their magic; exactly the reason they had worked so hard to establish Hogwarts, but occasionally, someone just like Harry would come to them, and each of the Founders were reminded why they had worked so hard to become as accomplished as they were.
The world needed a place like Hogwarts and people Like Rowena and her colleagues to teach generation after generation of magical folk in Britain.
Even so, when someone demonstrated such promise as Harry had tonight, it was undeniably exciting, and the prospect of furthering the boy as far as they could was something Rowena was quite looking forward to.
(Break)
“Treachery,” Myrddin whispered as he looked towards the sky. “A warm embrace concealing a knife in the back. Caution.”
He frowned as the red dot in the sky grew suddenly brighter.
“War,” he murmured. “An impending battle.”
Nodding to himself, he turned and headed back into the castle, only to find two men waiting for him on the other side of the door exiting the tower.
“What is it?” he asked the first, a scout he’d sent into the surrounding woodlands.
“A large party of men are approaching,” he warned gravely. “Danes.”
“How many?”
“Around a thousand.”
Myrddin nodded.
“Watch them closely,” he instructed. “How long until they reach us.”
“Around two days.”
“Then we will be ready for them.”
“What if they are allies?”
Myrddin remember what he’d just seen in the stars; the first clear sign he’d received in several days.
“They are no allies of ours.”
The man appeared as though he wished to ask a question, but Myrddin dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
“Claudius. What brings you here?” he asked fondly.
Like him, the second man was a wizard, and someone Myrddin had made the acquaintance of some years prior. The two had struck up a friendship, and Claudius had secured a position with the Wizard’s Council, at Myrddin’s recommendation.
“An urgent matter,” the man replied grimly. “I was told not to disturb you whilst you were consulting.”
He offered Myrddin a hurriedly scrawled note, and when he’d read it, Myrddin immediately summoned his cloak.
“Take me,” he insisted.
Claudius shook his head.
“I received word that the wraiths are gone,” he explained. “What is most curious is that five others arrived, I do not know who, and one of them sent the creatures fleeing out to sea.”
Myrddin quirked an eyebrow at the revelation.
“One person did that?”
Claudius nodded.
“From what the villagers are saying, yes, but I will keep you informed of anything else I learn.”
“Please do, Claudius,” Myrddin murmured as the man left his presence.
A single person.
It would usually take dozens of magical folk to round up the wraiths and send them on their way, but one person?
Myrddin did not believe it.
No, the villagers were mistaken, but he would learn the truth soon enough.
Claudius was a reliable source of information and Myrddin expected the man would return in due course to inform him of what had truly happened.
For now, his focus needed to be on the impending threat of the approaching Danish host, and with that in mind, he made his way towards the quarters belonging to Arthur.
“I must speak with the king,” he said urgently to the guards upon his arrival.
One of the men nodded before knocking on the door and entering.
A hurried conversation was shared between him and Arthur.
It was the king himself who exited the room, wrapping a thick fur about his shoulders.
“What is it, Myrddin?” he asked worriedly, knowing he would not be disturbed at such time unless it was of the utmost importance.
“I have received a report that a sizeable Danish host is approaching Camelot,” Myrddin explained. “How do you think we should proceed?”
“Do they come peacefully?”
Myrddin shook his head.
“Arthur, the Danes will never see you as their king. They will come and may even extend the hand of friendship, but they will betray. To them, you are a Britain, and for decades now they have raped and murdered their way across your lands. They cannot be trusted.”
“How can you be certain, Myrddin? You have told me to accept the hand of friendship if it is extended.”
“I have,” Myrddin agreed, “but not to the Danes. They are invaders of your lands, just like the Saxons. None are your allies. I have seen it, Arthur, the same way that I saw you sitting on your throne, wielding Excalibur, and uniting Britain under you banner.”
Arthur frowned for a moment before nodding.
“Then I will trust your word,” he declared. “How big is the host?”
“A thousand men.”
“And how many fighting men do we have?”
“Close to three hundred, my king,” Myrddin answered. “More than enough to defend the castle from such an enemy.”
“Arrows from the ramparts,” Arthur murmured thoughtfully. “There is no reason for us to leave the castle.”
Myrddin smiled and nodded approvingly.
“Those were my thoughts exactly. Well done, Arthur.”
The boy positively beamed at the praise.
“I will personally ready our men,” he decided. “I will lead them as any king should.”
“And they will be all the better for it. Let them see the man you are becoming. Lead your men, Arthur. You should begin preparing.”
Arthur nodded before returning to his room briefly and re-emerged dressed in a fine tunic and fastening the belt holding his sword.
“I will not allow any to threaten my people, neither Dane nor Saxon.”
With that, he made his way to rouse his men to begin the required preparations, and Myrddin nodded approvingly.
A thousand men would not be near enough to breach the walls of the castle, but it would be a suitable way for Arthur to prove his mettle to the people of Camelot and beyond where word would undoubtedly spread of his deeds.
Soon enough, more would arrive to join them, and given time, Myrddin had no doubt that Arthur would be the head of a large enough host to reclaim the stolen lands and return them to the Britons he led.
(Break)
Harry released a deep breath as he finished readying himself for the day ahead by dressing in another tunic that had been left at the foot of his bed. He’d only caught glimpses of the other students since he’d arrived, and he’d been given his own room rather than placed in the tower.
Did all students have their own room?
From what he’d seen, there was only a small number of people in the castle, no more than fifty or sixty, including the few staff members beyond the Founders.
Harry snorted.
The experience thus far had been most profound but having what he’d learned since he’d been brought here, Harry expected it would only become more so.
Merlin.
Of all the people throughout history he could’ve been task to confront, it had to be the one he’d heard spoken of with such reverence.
Merlin was considered to be the greatest wizard of all time, and in a way, Harry felt as though it would be akin to going against Dumbledore himself. He’d heard the two men being compared over the years he’d spent at Hogwarts.
If what was said of Merlin was true, then Harry could not help but think that the task ahead of him would be quite an impossible one.
Still, he remembered the words of the Lady of the Lake.
Someway and somehow, if magic itself willed it, what he’d been tasked with was unavoidable.
With that in mind, he took leave of his room and made his way towards the dungeons.
Perhaps he had been placed on an impossible path, but it seemed as though Harry had little choice, and he would rather be prepared for what was to come as best he could be than face it as woefully unprepared as he undoubtedly was now.
“Ah, Harry,” Salazar greeted him with a smile. “How’re you feeling today?”
“Like I’m completely out of my depth,” Harry answered honestly.
Salazar nodded and gestured for him to take a seat.
“You are,” he replied matter-of-factly. “For now, you stand little chance of success, but what I witnessed from you last night shows me that it doesn’t have to be so.”
“From seeing one spell?” Harry asked confusedly.
“No,” Salazar denied. “It was everything to do with the spell, but it is what it showed us that is most important. You demonstrated excellent control of both your magic and emotions to cast it, and the power you produced was most exceptional. It shows that you have great potential to one day be counted amongst the very best of our kind.”
Harry frowned as he shook his head.
“I don’t see it,” he chuckled humourlessly.
“That is because you have little understanding of foundational magic at its most natural, but you will. I am asking you to trust me, Harry. I know it is not easy, but I have no intention of wronging you.”
Harry nodded, though he remained uncertain.
“Good,” Salazar declared. “Now, I have a few questions for you pertaining to the Mind Arts. I can see that you have had no formal training, as such, but you, probably unwittingly, showed an exceedingly advanced technique.”
“I did? I don’t even know what the Mind Arts is,” Harry pointed out. “I know you can tell when someone is lying.”
“That would be Legilimency. There is much more to it than detecting lies, but we will get to it when the time is right, No, what you did last night was Occlumency. You managed to replicate a powerful emotion to cast your spell. It is quite the feat, Harry, and not something I would expect to see in someone as inexperienced as yourself.”
“It’s a part of powering the spell,” Harry explained. “You need to use a positive memory, the happiest you can think of, and remember how you felt in that moment. It’s like it has to fill you up before the spell works.”
“Exactly,” Salazar concurred. “To be able to do such a thing is an exceptional achievement. I expect you might just have a proclivity for the Mind Arts, Harry, but I warn you now, they are most difficult to master and will take years to do so. We will begin in the coming days, but for now, we have other things to attend to. Now, I expect the others have given you an explanation of their expertise in magic.”
“They have.”
“Well, I am considered to be quite the authority on Potions, Curses, the Mind Arts, and I tend to find myself pulled towards lesser investigated types of magic. I have become rather proficient in the art of Blood Magic and many types of Ritualistic Magic. Both are exceedingly dangerous undertakings and should never be taken lightly. My aim is to ensure that you have an exceptional understanding of all I have mentioned, along with my own take on duelling.”
Harry nodded appreciatively.
“Your own take on duelling?”
A grin crested Salazar’s lips as he nodded.
“Godric is perhaps the greatest duellist I have met,” he conceded almost painfully, “but I have bested him more than once. If you want to learn how to blast your way into somewhere without care of what is waiting for you, Godric is the man to teach you. If you prefer to dismantle a lock without being detected and slit the throats of your sleeping enemies…”
He offered Harry a bow as his grin widened.
“You, of course, will have the benefit of both our teachings, and that of Rowena. She is not a witch to be crossed lightly, Harry. She knows things, and she will lure you into a false sense of safety. Before you know it, you will be on your back with her wand pointing at your heart.”
Harry chuckled amusedly.
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“I am,” Salazar confirmed unashamedly. “Now, you also have another talent that I intend to assist you with.”
“Parseltongue.”
“Parseltongue,” Salazar confirmed. “I would continue to keep that ability to yourself as much as you can, if I were you. It could prove to be most useful in dire situations.”
“There is magic only used by Parselmouths?”
“There is,” Salazar murmured, “but it is exceedingly dangerous. Unless I believed you will one day need it, I would be very reluctant to teach you, but it may prove to be necessary. Besides, I have been developing it for many years, and I would not see the knowledge lost in its entirety. I of course have taught my own children, but they have been away so long that my research has progressed significantly.”
Harry nodded his understanding.
“It seems as though I’m going to be busy.”
“Indeed, but it is for the best. You show promise, Harry, but now you must show dedication, resilience, and passion. We can but merely help you plant your seeds. It is up to you to flourish. Now, shall we begin?”
(Break)
He looked across the land towards the woodland in the distance in the direction he expected the approaching Danes to arrive, and Myrddin’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
There was no sign of the force, but they were coming.
He could almost feel their presence in the air.
It was a rather brazen move for them to make with such a small host, but he suspected they would be relying on what they would deem to be Arthur’s weak position as a new king.
Little did they know, they would be wondering into the waiting jaws of lion, and they would be devoured.
Myrddin found himself wondering just who it was they would find themselves facing.
Cnut commanded an enormous host and would not send only one thousand men to take a castle, not unless he too believed that Arthur was an easy target.
No, Cnut was no fool.
As far as the many Danes across Britain proclaiming themselves as leaders of their people, Cnut was the most devious, most intelligent, but also the most bloodthirsty when on the field of battle.
Who was coming to Camelot remained a mystery, but to Myrddin, it did not matter.
They would die before entering the keep, even if they came waving flags of peace.
There would be none.
He’d seen their intentions in the stars, and as he’d explained to Arthur, he was the only rightful king.
Men would soon come to follow him in droves, and when they did, Arthur would be ready to take what was his.
His army would be the biggest, and strongest force in all the lands, and Britain would once again be at peace, with Arthur at the helm, Myrddin by his side, and all men living in harmony.
For now, Arthur was to face his first of many tests, and when the Danes eventually arrived, the boy-king would rise spectacularly to the challenge.
Perhaps then, Myrddin would pay a much-needed trip to Northumbria. He’d heard no further news of what had occurred, but he would discover the truth of the matter.
He could not fathom that a single person had indeed expelled the wraiths from the land, but Myrddin had his ways of seeing for himself what had occurred.
For his own peace of mind, he needed to understand such a force among the Britons, if indeed what he heard was the truth.
(Break)
“He fought you off?” Rowena asked, impressed by the feat Salazar had spoken of.
“Every last time, and he only grew stronger the more I placed him under it. He has a naturally strong mind, and I must admit that I am eager to see just how far I can take him when we begin our lessons.”
“As am I,” Rowena replied. “Are you beginning to believe?”
Salazar frowned thoughtfully before nodding.
“I am,” he answered. “He has an aptitude for curses and managed to perform each one I taught him. It is not often I wholeheartedly agree with you, Godric, but you are right about him. He will be an exceptional warrior, if he dedicates himself.”
“It is what he was born to be.”
“But he must possess balance,” Salazar urged. “He must be as sharp of mind as he is with ability to fight with both wand and sword if he is truly to prevent what Myrddin is attempting.”
“Then we shall do all we can to ensure that happens,” Godric assured Salazar. “He will need all of us equally.”
Salazar nodded.
“Are we going to sort him?”
“Do you believe we should?” Rowena asked.
“I am unsure,” Salazar murmured. “I think he would benefit from being amongst his peers, for a while at least, but he needs more than a standard education. I say we sort him and review his position. He should continue spending much-needed time with each of us, but he is still a child and should be allowed to remain one. I fear that it won’t must longer for Harry, but he should enjoy what little freedoms he still has.”
It was Godric who released a deep sigh.
“You are right,” he said reluctantly. “He should be sorted and attend regular classes to help fill the gaps in his basic understanding of magic and have additional training outside of classes. I propose that we each see him no less than a few times a week and give him the tools to develop his skills in his own time. We can add more time if and when we feel he needs it.”
“I think that is what is best,” Helga broke in, “and Godric, no attempting to influence the hat. Harry should be placed without interference.”
“Like I can,” Godric muttered irritably. “The hat doesn’t listen to me anyway.”
(Break)
Harry rubbed his throbbing temples in a bid to stave off the headache he’d been left with. Salazar had attempted the Imperius Curse on him more times than he cared to count, and he’d been harder to fend off than Moody.
Still, Harry had succeeded every time and he was grateful he’d been given something of a reprieve.
Instead of returning to his room, he’d made his way to the shore of the lake and the spot Godric had informed that he’d been found.
It was odd to think that he’d already been here for the better part of a week.
For the most part, it still felt as though he was experiencing a vivid dream, and that soon enough, he would wake up in the Hospital Wing under the care of Madam Pomfrey.
Even so, the longer he was here, the more he was getting used to his new way of life, though he had yet to venture outside of the castle save for his brief outing to Northumbria.
Harry could only imagine how different the world would be.
His history lessons from his time in muggle school were hazy at best, but he did know that there would be none of the modern conveniences he was used to.
Even at Hogwarts, the plumbing had not evolved to include flushing toilets, and the water supply was from a much older system than he was used to. There was no showers, but several large baths were dotted around the castle, much like the Prefect’s one he’d used to decipher the clue of the egg.
Just about everything was different here, but most of all, it was the people he’d grown close to that he missed.
Harry shook his head morosely as he looked across the surface of the lake.
Godric, Salazar, Rowena, and Helga were all doing their best for him, but when he was alone, he truly felt the loneliness he’d endured before receiving his Hogwarts letter.
Although he was indeed adjusting to it once more, it wasn’t easy.
He turned sharply as he heard a disturbance to his right. Drawing his wand, he narrowed his eyes as he stared at the large rock and shook his head once more.
“I know you’re there,” he sighed. “There’s no point trying to hide.”
He heard someone curse under their breath before they slowly peered at him from the top of the rock.
“I wasn’t hiding!”
“You’re still hiding.”
The girl glared at him before climbing atop the rock and folding her arms petulantly across her chest.
Harry was taken aback by her appearance.
Her thick, dark hair was seemingly wild, but it was clear the girl made quite the effort to care for it. She had full lips and high cheekbones, but the most striking feature was her eyes.
They were a dark, stormy grey, and yet, they seemed to somehow glow, even in the dull, March afternoon.
The only thought that came to his mind when he looked at her was that she was beautiful.
He’d never been so taken aback by someone at first glance, and even when she cleared her throat, Harry continued to stare at her for a moment.
“Then what were you doing?” he asked.
“Just watching,” the girl answered with a casual shrug.
“From behind a rock?” Harry snorted. “Some would say you were peeping.”
The girl quirked an eyebrow at him.
“You know, you’re quite brave to goad me,” she mused aloud. “I can only assume you do not know who I am.”
“Should I?”
“Everybody else at the castle does. I’m surprised they’ve not told you to stay away or the terrifying girl in the forest will get you.”
“You live in the forest?”
“I do,” the girl said proudly. “I’ve been in here for two years now.”
“Why?”
The girl shrugged once more.
“I have my reasons. The forest is where I belong. It is where my magic thrives the most.”
Harry could only shake his head.
“So, you don’t go to Hogwarts?”
“I used to, but then I decided that this is where I should be.”
“And you used to scare all of the other students?”
The girl smiled as she nodded, and Harry immediately decided he liked the way her nose and eyes crinkled when she did so.
“Only because they do not understand my magic and what I can do with it.”
“Your magic?”
“It’s different,” the girl said unashamedly.
“How?”
She scowled at him and shook her head.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied. “You would only mock me and I don’t take kindly to being mocked.”
Harry held up his hands placatingly.
“Fine,” he conceded, “but don’t you get scared being in there on your own?”
“I’m not as alone as you might think. You get used to it.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Harry sighed. “Anyway, I should get back to the castle. It was nice meeting you…”
He broke off, hoping the girl would give her name at the very least but she shook her head.
“We will probably never meet again.”
“So, you won’t be spying on me anymore?” Harry snorted.
“For the last time, I wasn’t spying!”
Harry hummed.
“You weren’t spying,” he chuckled. “I suppose I’ll just have to call you forest girl.”
“And I’ll call you summoning boy!”
Harry frowned before shaking his head amusedly.
“It was you watching us when I was here with Godric.”
“I was here first,” the girl said stubbornly. “I hid when I saw you coming.”
“Of course,” Harry goaded. “That’s twice already.”
The girl glared at him and Harry laughed before turning to head back towards the castle after such an odd conversation.
“How did you summon whatever you did from so far away?” the girl blurted.
Harry paused before realising what she was referring to.
“Just practice,” he answered.
“That really isn’t helpful.”
With another shake of his head, Harry headed back towards the waiting girl and drew his wand once more.
“Practice,” he reiterated. “Accio knife.”
He’d left Sirius’s gift on his bedside table, not wanting to misplace the one thing he had left of his previous life.
It took a few moments, but the knife did arrive from the castle and Harry snatched it nimbly out of the air.
The girl was begrudgingly impressed by the feat, though she did her utmost to hide it for a moment before huffing irritably.
“I can summon things, just not from so far away.”
“It’s like I said,” Harry replied holding up the knife. “It’s just practice and having quick hands. Things tend to come at you faster the further away you summon them.”
“I already figured that out for myself,” the girl grumbled, lifting her dress to show a dark bruise on her thigh.
Harry did his utmost not to stare at her shapely legs, and politely looked away to avoid doing so.
The girl laughed as she drew her own wand.
“Accio!”
It was a sudden whistling that pulled Harry from his thoughts, and deftly caught the whizzing projectile before it could hit her in the face.
“You might want to work on your aim,” suggested, dropping the acorn and shaking his stinging hand.
The girl had paled, though she nodded as Harry made to leave once more.
“Morgana,” she called after him. “My name is Morgana.”
“Harry,” he returned.
Without another word, he made his way towards the castle, looking back only once to see the girl still standing at the edge of the lake, watching him retreat.
It felt almost foreign to be smiling.
It was something that had yet to happen so sincerely since he’d arrived here, and all it had taken was a brief conversation with a guarded girl who, for reasons known only to her, lived within the Forbidden Forest.
(Break)
He paced back and forth as he tried to calm his nerves, but his efforts were for nothing.
Arthur knew that he would one day need to fight for his crown, and to unite the entire country, he just hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
Since Myrddin had informed him of the approaching Danes, he’d been readying his fighting men, and taking some time to practice with the bow. He was far from proficient in using it, but he was getting better.
“Calm yourself, my king,” Myrddin urged. “I have already seen the outcome of the battle. You will emerge victorious.”
Arthur released a deep breath and nodded, though Myrddin’s words brought him little comfort.
“Is everyone terrified before battle?” he asked.
Myrddin chuckled and placed a hand on his shoulder to still him.
“How can someone be considered brave if what they conquer doesn’t frighten them?” he asked. “Courage is not the absence of fear, Arthur, but facing what scares you despite it.”
Arthur nodded his understanding, though what comfort he found in the words all but evaporated as the door to his quarters opened.
“The Danes have been spotted approaching, my king,” the guard informed him.
“Then you should alert the men,” Arthur instructed. “Bring them to the ramparts.”
The guard left and Arthur followed, his legs trembling within his armour, yet he continued on to face the threat bearing down on them.
“Any final words?” he asked with a forced smile.
“Be merciful when the opportunity presents itself, but as ruthless when needed. They will not yield quickly, but they will when they see that all hope is lost. A good king should always pay heed to this.”
Arthur frowned before nodding.
“I shall show mercy if they yield,” he assured his mentor as he ascended the steps to the ramparts.
He was the first to arrive, and as he looked towards the woodland in the distance, the first of the Danes emerged from within the trees.
Arthur had not expected only a thousand men to seem so many, but compared to his own paltry force, it was significant.
“We have the castle,” Myrddin reminded him. “Do not pay any mind to their words. They will speak only lies until they realise the futility of their position. Ruthless when needed, Arthur, and merciful only when it feels right to show it.”
Arthur nodded and he felt the presence of his own men behind him as the Danes reached a short distance away from where the drawbridge would lay when lowered.
“I would speak with the one you call Arthur,” the leader of the group called in a broken tongue.
Arthur cleared his throat.
“You are speaking to him. State your name and purpose.”
The Dane leaned in towards the man next to him.
“He is saying how easy this will be,” Myrddin murmured. “He says that the boy king is foolish.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
“My name is Frode and I seek food and shelter for my men. We have travelled many leagues.”
“Winchester,” Myrddin whispered, stepping to Arthur’s right. “His men sacked the cathedral and murdered many Christians. They raped the women before putting them and their children to the sword.”
“How do you know this?” Arthur asked, disgusted by what he’d heard.
“His men reek of death and blood. They will do the same to the people here, Arthur. They must be punished for their misdeeds.”
Arthur swallowed deeply.
“Ready your arrows,” he instructed.
“What say you, Arthur?” Frod called. “Will you offer your hospitality to me and my men?”
“What of the people of Winchester?” Arthur questioned. “Did they offer their hospitality?”
Frode began speaking to his men once more.
“They will flee, Arthur,” Myrddin warned. “Kingdoms are not built on good graces. Kill them whilst you can. If you do not, they will only become a greater enemy you must face later.”
“Kill them?”
“Now, Arthur,” Myrddin urged. “There will be time for mercy, but now is not it. Kill them and give righteous justice to those these Danes have slaughtered.”
Arthur swallowed again, his gaze sweeping amongst his own forces before shifting to those below.
Readying his own bow, he nodded.
“Loose your arrows!” he commanded.
The sound of dozens of arrows being unleashed filled the air, and the screams of the Danes quickly followed. They attempted to flee, but the distance to the tree line was too far to escape the onslaught, and in only a few moments, none below them moved.
Their preferred furs were no match for the arrows, yet, they did not die quickly.
Many continued to scream, but they would receive no mercy.
“Lead your men to finish them off, Arthur,” Myrddin instructed. “Put them to the sword and show those within the castle that you will spill blood as willingly as you will give it for them.”
Arthur merely nodded in response and gestured for his men to follow.
No one had ever told him that being a king was easy, but Myrddin had told him that his rise would indeed be bloody.