Merlin and the Land of Mists: Book Five: The Battle for Avalon

by P. J. Cormack

  The Gates were steadily falling away and the whole throng of the Army of the Dead welled around awaiting their release from the torment and incarceration that they had been forced to endure for so very long.

  With one long taloned hand the Dark Lord swept a picture in the air of Avalon for all his devils and demons to see.

  There, shown plainly, was the Ring of the Great Stones of Avalon. The Dark Lord rejoiced that his Dark Warriors were battling hard to force their way to the hated boy that the Dark Lord knew as the Raven Boy.

  It would not be long, the Dark Lord was certain of that, before he was rid of his interfering dark-haired nemesis for ever.

  There were two who stood between the Dark Warriors and the Raven Boy and the Dark Lord was surprised to see that one of these was himself only a boy.

  This was a boy who fought with a strength and skill that was far beyond his years. The Dark Lord recognised something else about this boy and that was that he belonged to another age. He had been spirited by some Enchantment or Magic into this Past Time to aid the Forces of the Old Magic.

  This gave the Dark Lord pause for thought as this was Great Enchantment and should not be possible in this World of Men. This was a Power granted only to a god and a very powerful god at that.

  The Dark Lord saw that the other warrior, who was now plainly struggling to hold back the Dark Warrior that he was fighting, was none other than Camelot’s Knight Commander, Sir Lauriston du Lac.

  This was no more than the Dark Lord had expected and he saw with satisfaction that the big knight was bloodied from a number of wounds that he had suffered. He could also see that the Knight Commander was weakening, his sword arm grown weary by loss of blood.

  And there in the centre of the mayhem stood the hated figure of the Raven Boy. The boy who had so often stood in his way as he had sought to take the World of Men into his Demonic Realm.

  Even now the boy was not plain for the Dark Lord to overlook.

  There was an aura of protection around the Raven Boy that shielded him from the Powers of the Dark Magic. This the Dark Lord did not understand for, once again, this was a god-like power.

  The Dark Lord saw, as he had expected he would, that all the Forces of the Old Magic were there at the Great Stones of Avalon making this Last Stand for Camelot, Avalon and the World of Men.

  What the Dark Lord viewed did not dismay him for he knew that the Power of the Old Magic was weakening. They were holding back his Forces but they would soon tire. Then the Power of the Dark would break out and wreak a terrible vengeance on the land that had been denied to it for so long.

  With the departure of the Elder god, Mithras Invictus, who had thus withdrawn his Protection from Avalon the Dark Lord had known that he would have the opportunity to break out his Forces from Hell.

  What he had not anticipated was that the King of Camelot, King Uther Pendragon, should be so stupid as to order the demolition of Avalon’s last remaining Defences of the Old Magic – the Altars of Mithras Invictus. Camelot’s dangerously unstable king had done more to aid the Forces of the Dark than he would ever know.

  With a crash one part of the Gates of the Underworld fell away and the Army of the Dead surged forward ready to smash and kill their way to freedom.

  The Dark Lord was aware that, just as he had planned, the Forces of the Old Magic and in particular the Raven Boy could not fight for Avalon and still hold back the barriers that divided the Hell of the Underworld from the World of Men.

  “They weaken.”

  The Dark Lord’s cry was like the howl of a thousand wolves as he saw that another part of the Gates of the Underworld had fallen away.

  “They weaken,” he repeated exultantly for the very words gave him strength and comfort. “Avalon’s defences have fallen. Now my Children of the Night, now is your Time and now is your Destiny. Invade Avalon and destroy everything that lives there. BURN IT ALL.”

  With that cry the final part of the Gates of the Underworld, the Gates to Hell itself, fell away and thousands upon thousands of fire-writhen devils and demons burst through.

  This was the Dark Lord’s Army of the Dead and now they were released and could do what they had always done in their own time and which had seen them banished to the Dark Realm of the Dark Lord. They would kill and they would burn and they would utterly destroy anything and anyone that dared to stand against them.

  Too long had they suffered in the Flames of Torment while being denied the one thing that they craved the most – to live once more and bring pain and death and torture to all who stood before them.

  And the first to feel this pain and torment that the devils and demons brought with them would be Avalon, Camelot and the Raven Boy, the Dark Lord knew that he would make absolutely certain of that – especially the Raven Boy.

  Once more the Dark Lord put back his head and howled in pure exultation for this was a demonstration of his Great Power.

  The Power of the Lord of the Underworld, the Dark Lord of Hell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE BATTLE FOR AVALON

  Merlin was tiring.

  The strain of holding back the Dark Lord’s Forces on the boundaries of Avalon was now becoming almost too much for him. Added to that the fact that he was having to send Protection to Camelot against the Four Riders of the Dark and put a shield over his friends at the Great Stones meant that it was becoming harder and harder for him to spread his Enchantment so wide.

  Once again he cursed King Uther Pendragon’s stupidity in demolishing the once thing that could have saved Camelot and Avalon.

  In destroying the Altars of Mithras Invictus, across which no being of the Dark would ever dare to set foot, Camelot’s king had pretty much invited the Forces of the Dark to invade Avalon.

  If only those altars were still whole Merlin knew that he would have been strong enough to hold back the Dark Lord long before the Forces for Darkness could even approach Avalon.

  As it was he was weakening. The sweat was pouring down his face and back in rivulets as he brought every bit of his Will and Power to bear against the Dark Magic.

  With a sinking heart he knew that it was not enough. His strength was ebbing away and there seemed to be nothing that he could do about it.

  “What was that?”

  It was Galapas who spoke. The High Mage looked as if he had aged ten years in the last few minutes.

  Galapas pointed a hand that shook with exhaustion towards the far distance where an enormous dust cloud was rolling across the hills and meadows of Avalon and towards the Great Stones.

  The boy enchanter knew exactly what it was and it was a sight that he had hoped that he never would see.

  “It’s the Army of the Dead,” he told Galapas in a voice that seemed to come from the grave. “The Dark Lord has finally released the Army of the Dead into Avalon.”

  Merlin now also looked drained and beaten. The boy was taking in great lungfuls of breath and he was very nearly unconscious.

  It was as if the life force was being drained out of him and the High Mage wondered if this day would see the death of all of them.

  The boy enchanter seemed to be dying in front of his eyes.

  “That’s not good, but we must fight on. We are not beaten yet,” Galapas said in an effort to drag the boy back from the chasm of despair that was opening out before him.

  “It certainly isn’t and thank you, Galapas,”

  Merlin tried to rally himself for he realised that the High Mage was trying to help him but in truth there seemed to be very little that any of them could do now - except to die.

  “The Army of the Dead are already dead,” the boy repeated to himself as much as to the friend and guardian who stood so stalwartly alongside him. “They are already dead so they cannot be killed by the living.” He added while taking in great lungfuls of air.

  “Then how do we stop them?”

  The High Mage had his exhaustion written all over his face for there was no more that he could give i
n this Defence of Avalon.

  In spite of his own tiredness Merlin managed a faint smile.

  “With great difficulty,” he told his old friend.

  The Forces of the Dark seemed to gather in strength as if they too realised Merlin’s strength was failing.

  Now it seemed that even Draago and Firewing were finding this battle too long and too hard for them.

  Merlin saw, with a feeling of dismay, that the dragon and the griffin were being driven relentlessly back towards the Great Stones.

  Stormrider and his unicorns were giving of their best but the boy saw with a great despair that they too were being slowly hammered back by the Forces of the Dark Lord.

  The land around the Great Stones was littered with the bodies of broken unicorns and Merlin saw with a rising sense of horror that they were many black and twisted bodies lying with the unicorns.

  These were the Raven Kind who had suffered terrible losses in this Battle for Avalon. Merlin swallowed hard and hoped with every ounce of strength that he had left in him that the body of Kraak was not lying among that sad and terrible destruction.

  Not for the first time in that battle Merlin wished that he could call upon his father but he knew that the Elder god had left Avalon and indeed the World of Men and would never return. Not even to save his son in this Great Battle.

  Over the sound of the frenzy that raged around him Merlin thought that he could, once more, hear the cries and screams of the dying in Camelot as that once great capital of Avalon was battered to its knees by the Four Riders of the Dark that were the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

  Galahad and Sir Lauriston were now also being driven hard into the centre of the Great Stones.

  Merlin could see that the big knight was bleeding from any number of wounds and was a truly terrible sight being literally drenched with blood.

  Galahad’s fair hair was plastered with sweat across his head and there was blood on the boy’s face and arms. In contrast the Dark Warriors seemed to be gathering in strength as they realised that their enemies were faltering.

  With the last of his strength the boy enchanter threw up a Shield of Protection over his friends and the Great Stones of Avalon.

  Merlin knew that it would only last for as long as he had the energy to hold it there. He also knew that he would only be able to safeguard his friends for a few minutes more.

  There was a pause in the battle as both sides took stock of the situation.

  Merlin and his friends of the Old Magic sought to steel themselves for one final effort. In contrast the Forces of the Dark Lord were growing in confidence and formed themselves into huge battle lines to drive and smash their way past the Great Stones and finally drive the Old Magic out of existence.

  There seemed to be very little that any of them could do. Merlin watched as the seemingly never-ending Army of the Dead came ever faster and more powerfully to the Great Stones of Avalon.

  The Dark Lord now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this Raven Boy could not hold his Forces at bay for much longer.

  Once more the fire-driven Being put back his head and howled at the thought that he would now bring the Fires of the Underworld to burn and utterly destroy the World of the Living.

  He would turn it into a New Hell – a New Realm of the Dark that would exist over the World of Men until the very End of Time itself.

  Merlin’s vision was now blurred through a tiredness that ate into his very bones and sweat too was running down his drenched black hair and into his eyes.

  The boy was aware that he had done everything that he could but there was no comfort in that thought for him. He knew that the Battle for Avalon was all but lost.

  The Golden Land of Avalon and Camelot that he believed men would speak of for a thousand and more years was slipping slowly and inexorably away into the Pit of the Dark Lord’s Hell.

  Almost in a dream the boy saw with some relief that Kraak was alive and with him in this Last Stand of the Great Stones of Avalon.

  The King of the Raven Kind, like the rest of them, was a sorry sight but he was not dead and Merlin took great comfort in that.

  The Army of the Dead now whirled and milled around the Great Stones of Avalon held there only by Merlin’s fading strength. In their midst the boy could see devils and demons and many horrors without a form or a name.

  It was as if the Mouth of Hell was opening up before him and his friends and there seemed to be nothing that he could do about it – nothing except die.

  Galahad and Sir Lauriston du Lac were now standing back to back as they sought to confront their enemies for one final time.

  Neither the bloodied boy warrior nor Camelot’s Knight Commander had ever been defeated in battle but they both knew that this was the end.

  All they could now do was to sell their lives as dearly as they could in the defence of Avalon and their friends.

  A great howl went up from the Army of the Dead as they sensed that Merlin’s protection was dropping away before their eyes. So exhausted was the boy enchanter that he could barely hold up his arms to sustain the Spell of Protection and a dreadful dizziness and fatigue was eating its way through his entire body.

  Merlin knew that he would stay upright to the moment of his death. He was the son of Mithras Invictus and if he had to die then it would be standing straight and looking his enemy in the eye. There would be no hint of cowardice or surrender.

  Galahad’s weary voice called to his friend over the increasing fury of the Army of the Dead.

  “What can we do, Merlin?”

  The boy enchanter looked at his friend with a mixture of pride and despair.

  He knew that they had all given of their best and there seemed to be nothing else for them to do. This was the end of it.

  “No more than we have already done,” he told the boy warrior.

  Galahad turned to face Camelot’s Knight Commander who had fought so gallantly by his side and lifted his sword both as a greeting and a farewell.

  It was the big knight who spoke first.

  “I am proud to die alongside you, Galahad,” Sir Lauriston said, his voice grave. “You are the finest warrior that I have ever seen.”

  Galahad bowed his head in thanks, “Thank you, Sir Lauriston. I too am proud to die with you. You fight – like Achilles.”

  And the big knight knew that the boy warrior could pay him no greater compliment.

  “There is no finer praise than that and I thank you,” Sir Lauriston replied.

  “Any ideas, Merlin?” Galapas asked.

  “Not really,” the boy had to admit.

  It was the big knight that took the initiative, “Then for Camelot, for Avalon and for the Raven Boy. Let us join battle this one last time.”

  With weary arms Sir Lauriston du Lac lifted his sword and this was exactly mirrored by the fair-haired boy warrior who stood with him.

  A great howl went up from the Army of the Dead as they saw the last of Merlin’s Spell of Protection crumble away. An immense shriek went up from throats that had not spoken for thousands of years.

  They knew that this day there would be fresh blood and it would be good.

  Merlin looked one more time at his weary and blood-spattered friends knowing that they had given everything and now there was nothing left that they could do.

  He knew that he had the strength for one more enchantment and that would be it. In his mind he toyed with the idea of using it to blast his friends out of Existence so that at least the Dark Lord and his Forces would not have the satisfaction of mutilating their bodies.

  Even as the thought came into his mind Merlin dismissed it for he knew that this was not the way that his friends would want to die.

  If the Battle for Avalon was truly lost to the Old Magic then the boy was certain that his friends would want to go down fighting for all that they believed in and that was exactly as it should be.

  Merlin steadied himself for one final effort, one final spell of enchantment that would at least
punch a hole, if only for a short time, in the advancing Army of the Dead.

  As he reached for the Spell Words he noticed that a howl of rage had gone up from the Army of the Dead and that the Dark Lord’s devils and demons were faltering and turning away from the Great Stones.

  Was it possible that the Dark Lord had even more of his Dark Forces to unleash into the World of Men?

  Merlin hadn’t thought that likely but it seemed that it was.

  Then he noticed with a sense of wonder that the Army of the Dead was not pushing towards the Great Stones but were actually turning around and struggling to break away.

  The boy enchanter knew of no Power on Earth that could cause the Dark Lord’s demons to panic as they were.

  For a moment Merlin wondered if his father, Mithras Invictus, had returned to the Earth to save him and his friends. The boy immediately put this thought away from him. If the Bull Slayer had returned he would know it for there was ever a bond between father and son whether he was a god or not.

  A huge battle cry went out from outside the Great Stones of Avalon and Merlin knew that this had not come from the Army of the Dead for these demons were being battered and broken from all sides.

  Some other Force of Arms had come to aid of the Old Magic but what it could be, Merlin had no idea.

  And something else was happening that should not have been possible.

  Great swathes of the Dark Lord’s Dark Forces were simply evaporating and exploding into nothingness.

  They were not dying for this was impossible for them but something very, very powerful had come to the aid of the Old Magic and was simply driving the Demonic Forces of the Dark Lord out of existence.

  Whatever army it was that had come to his rescue it was huge, Merlin could recognise that. It trailed a dust cloud behind it that went on for as far as the eye could see.

  Merlin glanced sideways at Galahad and Sir Lauriston and saw that they had fiercely renewed their attack on the two Dark Warriors - and then the unthinkable happened.

  The Dark Warriors simply turned away and fled from the boy warrior and the big knight.