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

by P. J. Cormack

The boy enchanter had promised the Hunter ‘good hunting’ and now he was keeping his word. He had wanted to ensure that the Dark Lord had enough of a start for Herne to chase him down with his whole pack of blood-lusting Hell Hounds.

  This was the ‘thrill of the chase’ and the very reason that the Hunter and his Hell Hounds had been called into Existence.

  “See your quarry. He flees before you,” the boy enchanter continued while feeling the excitement grow in the giant figure that stood before him.

  Like a questing hound Herne turned to see what Merlin had pointed out to him. Herne seemed to sniff the wind very much as a hound would do. Merlin could see that the Hunter had picked up the Dark Lord’s scent just as the boy had expected that he would.

  “What is it – this quarry - my quarry?” Herne asked turning back to face Merlin once more.

  “It is Lucifer,” the boy enchanter replied. “It is the Fallen Angel that you hunt today, Herne. It will be such a Hunting that even you have never known before.”

  “Aaah.”

  Herne the Hunter seemed to breathe the word rather than speak it and Merlin could see the excitement and malice that had come into the demi-gods strange, yellow eyes.

  “Herne, here is the great sport that I promised you.”

  Merlin paused to give his words greater effect.

  “And there are the Four Horsemen of the Dark fleeing away from Camelot even as we speak.”

  Herne put back his huge head and gave a great howl that was picked up and magnified by his Hell Hounds as they too found the scent of this other quarry.

  “This is a Hunting indeed,” Herne seemed to run with a new Power.

  Merlin could see that the Hunter was desperate to get on the trail of the Fallen Angel and his four Horsemen of the Dark.

  “The Wild Hunt rides,” Herne roared at the heavens. “It has been too long but now we ride. WE RIDE – WE HUNT.”

  A huge black stallion appeared by Herne’s side. So large was it that it seemed to blot out half the sky over the Great Stones.

  Effortlessly the Hunter leapt onto its back and pulled a short gold, black etched horn from where it was attached to the stallion’s saddle.

  Merlin too was caught up in the drama of the moment, the thrill of the chase.

  Part of the boy realised that this must be how his father, the Bull Slayer, felt when he leapt onto the bull’s back before cutting its throat.

  “Drive them to the Abyss and beyond,” Merlin shouted up at the huge figure that stood astride the mighty black stallion in the skies over Avalon. The dark figures of the Hell Hounds swirled around the Hunter so that the sun itself seemed to be blotted out.

  “Drive them beyond the End of Time,” the boy enchanter ordered in a voice that could only be obeyed.

  The Hunter needed no further encouragement for his eyes were now full of the desire to hunt and to hurt and to kill.

  “And still further,” Herne the Hunter bellowed down to the small, dark figure that stood so proudly in the Centre of the Great Stones of Avalon.

  From the first Herne had not doubted that Merlin was truly the son of Mithras Invictus, the undefeated Elder god, and now here was the proof.

  Here and from his place in the sky Herne could see the bearing and not a little of the Elder god’s cruelty flowing from the figure that stood beneath him. This was indeed the Dark Child.

  “None escape from Hunter,” Herne shouted down in a voice that once again was like thunder. “None escape the Wild Hunt. Come my Hell Hounds. Come Follower, come Diver, come Seeker, come Rider, come Slayer, come Striker, come Chaser, come Strider, come All. Come to me my Hell Hounds. THE WILD HUNT RIDES.”

  With that the Hell Hounds poured across the sky in what seemed to be a never-ending stream of black coated, red eyed hounds.

  Amidst them and driving them on was the enormous figure of Herne the Hunter and Merlin could hear Herne’s deep voice cry out the ‘holluhs’ as the demi-god drove on his pack.

  For a short time it was as dark as night as the light of the sun was blocked out by the enormous pack of the Hunter’s Hell Hounds in full and joyous pursuit of Lucifer, the Fallen Angel.

  As they reached the horizon Galahad saw that part of the pack had peeled away and were making fast for Camelot.

  “What are they doing?” Galahad asked, still struggling to take in everything that he had just seen.

  The boy was more than conscious of the fact that he was seriously weary from his battle with the Dark Warriors and not a little bloodied.

  “Herne has sent part of the Pack of Hell Hounds to hunt the Four Horsemen of the Dark,” Merlin said grimly and with satisfaction. “There will be no escape for them either.”

  “Then it’s over?” Galahad breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Pretty much,” Merlin told his friend but the boy enchanter did not take his eyes off the rapidly disappearing figures of Herne the Hunter and his Wild Hunt.

  Part of the boy wished that he too was riding with the Hunt as it pursued its quarry to the End of Time and beyond even Hell itself.

  With a shiver the boy understood that he had rather more of his father in him than he would really like to admit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE GREAT STONES

  AVALON

  The devastation stretched for as far as the eye could see.

  The bodies lay everywhere, hundreds of unicorns and thousands of ravens who had given up their lives for Avalon and for the Raven Boy.

  “That was a pretty close thing.”

  Merlin was brought back from his thoughts by Galahad’s words and he knew that his friend spoke the truth.

  “It certainly was.”

  Merlin admitted taking in the boy warrior’s battered and bloodied state. The boy knew that both Galahad and Sir Lauriston had fought with great skill and bravery and that anything less would have led to their defeat and death.

  The trouble had been that the Dark Warriors could not die. Although both the boy warrior and Camelot’s Knight Commander had struck their opponents with many mortal blows the Dark Warriors could not and would not fall. It would have taken an enchanted sword or knife such as that carried by Mithras Invictus himself to have put these Dark Beings out of Existence.

  The Elder god had not been there and neither had he come to the rescue of his son and the Old Magic which had only been as Merlin had expected it would be.

  Galahad and Sir Lauriston had been fighting warriors who could not die by mortal hand but the boy warrior and the Knight Commander could certainly be injured and killed in return. The wounds that ran deep on Galahad and Sir Lauriston were the full proof of that.

  “Did you know that Grim was raising the Ghoul Army?” Galahad asked for he, like Merlin, had been truly stunned as the massive Lost Army of the Ghouls had swept across the Plains of Avalon to save both it, Camelot and the Old Magic.

  “No, I didn’t,” Merlin confessed. “I did not think they would fight and I didn’t expect to see Grim leading them.”

  “He certainly did that,” Galahad said remembering the ferocity with which the ghouls had fallen on the Dark Lord’s Army of the Dead and slain them in enormous numbers.

  “I thought that Grim had just run away,” the boy enchanter added almost apologetically.

  As if in answer to these thoughts that Merlin was suddenly aware of a movement from behind one of the Great Stones, that and a smell that he knew only too well.

  “Grim,” the boy called out and in answer Grim’s head appeared from where he had been hiding behind the Great Stone. Eventually the rest of the ghoul’s body followed in pretty much the correct order.

  “Yes, Raven Boy.”

  For some reason that Merlin could not understand, the ghoul had a very worried and anxious expression on his face.

  The boy enchanter guessed that it was a permanent part of the ghoul to feel that he had done something that was not good. But the fact was that he had actually achieved something of true magnificence.

&nb
sp; “Avalon owes you a great debt, Grim,” Merlin told the worried-looking ghoul, then the boy corrected himself. “I owe you a great debt.”

  The ghoul’s face lit up with a big smile – or at least as much of a smile as his two hundred year old face was capable of.

  “Grim did well,” the smelly ghoul suggested.

  “Grim did better than well,” Merlin gravely told his friend. “Grim was fantastic. From this day you will be known as Grim the Great Saviour, Grim the Hero of Avalon.”

  The ghoul looked as if he was about to burst apart from the praise that the Raven Boy had just given him.

  Grim thought that it was the best day of his life – or death, as he corrected himself.

  Merlin turned to look at the burly knight who was Camelot’s Knight Commander. Sir Lauriston du Lac was leaning wearily on his long sword. The boy could see that the knight was on the point of exhaustion and ran with blood from at least a dozen wounds.

  “And you, Sir Lauriston,” Merlin said, dipping his head in a kind of salute to the big knight. “You fought well. I misjudged you.”

  “I misjudged myself, Raven Boy,” the big knight said in reply. “It took Galahad to show me the way.”

  Then Merlin turned to the figure of Camelot’s High Mage who had stood alongside him throughout the whole of the Battle for Avalon and had literally been ‘watching his back’.

  “And you, Galapas,” Merlin said with much respect and love for the mage who had raised him from babyhood to this day. “You’re getting too old for this sort of thing.”

  “Far too old,” Galapas admitted with a smile knowing that there was no place on earth that he would have wanted to be at this time and on this day in the Great Battle for Avalon.

  A smile broke across the High Mage’s tired and drawn face as he added, “But I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  “You are a good and loyal friend,” Merlin told the High Mage and Galapas knew that there was no higher praise that could ever come to him – not if he lived for a thousand years.

  “Is Avalon truly free of the Dark Lord, this Lucifer and his Dark Riders?” Galapas asked.

  It was a question that had been bothering many of them even though they had seen the Fallen Angel and his Dark Forces fleeing for their very existence as Herne the Hunter and his Hell Hounds had set off so joyously in their pursuit.

  “Yes, it is. Herne hunts to the Abyss and beyond.”

  It was a tall and hooded figure who spoke and he had spoken with great authority.

  “There is no return for the Fallen Angel from there. There will be evil men who come. Men so wicked that they will be beyond belief and they will ravage the World of Men with their wars. But they will be mortal men who can be slain and defeated by Mankind although there will be much innocent blood spilled in the Saving. Mankind will only be threatened by Mankind. The gods and demons have left this world thanks to you and what you have done here and on this day.”

  Almost as one Merlin, Galahad, Sir Lauriston du Lac, Grim, Galapas and Kraak turned towards the figure that had just spoken for they were surprised that none of them had noted his approach.

  The figure was tall with a mass of black hair that fell long over his shoulders. He wore a kind of leather armour that none of them had seen before and was of the deepest black.

  Over his shoulders was hooked a long hooded cloak of the same colour. The newcomer’s face was lined and creased and was the face of a man who was older than his stature and tangle of raven black hair.

  The most startling thing about the man was that his eyes were as black as coal and that he carried an aura of immense power about him.

  Sir Lauriston’s hand dropped instinctively to the hilt of his bloodied sword although something told the big knight that earthly weapons would be of no use against this man.

  “Who are you and what do you seek here?”

  The Knight Commander’s words came out much harsher than he had intended but he was battered and bruised and not in the mood for any more surprises that day.

  The stranger did not answer the big knight but instead turned his black eyes on Merlin.

  As he did so Galahad noticed the faintest of smiles playing across the man’s face, as if he was keeping some great secret that amused him.

  “Do you know me, Merlin?” The stranger asked.

  The boy enchanter did not hesitate in his reply.

  “You are Myrrdin Emrys,” the boy replied and there was a lightness in the boy’s voice as if he too knew the stranger’s secret.

  “Myrrdin Emrys…,” Galahad searched his mind for the name.

  The boy warrior thought that it was a name that he should know. Then he remembered and it was if a curtain was being drawn aside. This name was one of the few things that he had known on that enchanted night that the Old Magic had carried him through Time and to the Great Stones of Avalon.

  “It was I who sent you to this Time and it was I who took away your memories,” the stranger told Galahad.

  “Why?”

  It seemed a fair question to ask, the boy warrior thought.

  “Because your own time was too dangerous for you – and you were needed here,” Myrrdin Emrys answered. “And now I am here to take you back to your own Time once more, Galahad.”

  “Why did you take away my memories?” The boy warrior was still struggling to understand half of what he was being told.

  “It was necessary,” Myrrdin Emrys replied. “But I left you your name together with the fact that I, Myrrdin Emrys, had sent you and that you must seek out and find Merlin.”

  “What if I don’t want to go back?” There was anguish plain to hear in the boy’s voice as he looked around at the friends and companions that he had come to love.

  “These are my friends,” the boy continued, “I don’t want to leave them.”

  “I’m afraid that you don’t have any choice in the matter, Galahad,” Myrrdin Emrys told the boy warrior.

  There was compassion in the man’s voice for no one knew better than he just how important the boy warrior had been to the Saving of Camelot, Avalon and indeed the whole of the World of Men.

  Such trials, the dark-haired man knew, wove strong and unbreakable sinews of friendship.

  “Merlin,” Galahad turned to his friend for support.

  The boy enchanter had his eyes firmly fixed on Myrrdin Emrys and with a shock the boy warrior saw that Merlin had exactly the same coal black eyes as the stranger. Galahad had never before seen eyes of that colour on anyone except Merlin.

  “There’s more, isn’t there, Myrrdin Emrys?” The boy enchanter said, “And I think that you owe Galahad an explanation before you leave this place.”

  The stranger bowed his head in reply, “You do well to correct me, Merlin,” he said and turned once more to face the boy warrior. “I am here to take you back to your father, Galahad.”

  “My father?”

  That certainly wasn’t the response the boy warrior had expected from the stranger. The boy warrior had no idea who his father was but now memories were flooding back to the boy. Some of them were bad but most of them were good almost beyond believing.

  “Your father is Sir Lancelot du Lac,” Myrrdin Emrys told the boy. “And all your memories will return when you are back in your own Time.”

  “Du Lac?”

  Now it was the big knight, Sir Lauriston du Lac, who spoke with a kind of wonderment, “That is my family’s name.”

  “Indeed it is,” Myrrdin Emrys said and Merlin could see that the man was almost smiling as he said the words.

  “And Lancelot is…” The big knight seemed to be struggling to understand what he was being told.

  “That is your son’s name, Sir Lauriston, the son that you will have one day and which was predicted to you, if you remember,” Myrrdin Emrys said.

  It was Merlin who finished the tale for Camelot’s Knight Commander. “The Druid girl, Myfanwy, predicted that you would have a son and that you would call him Lancelot.
”

  The big knight thought back to what seemed to be a thousand years ago when the Druid girl, Myfanwy, had stood so defiantly in front of King Uther Pendragon.

  In her temper she had shouted down Camelot’s king before making the prediction that Sir Lauriston du Lac would have a son who would be called Sir Lancelot du Lac.

  She had not told the big knight that the prophesy was that Sir Lancelot would be one of the finest Knights of the Round Table or the fact that Sir Lauriston himself would die young.

  “So Galahad is my…” Sir Lauriston was still struggling to make any sense of it all.

  “…Your grandson,” Myrrdin Emrys finished the sentence for the big knight.

  Galahad was equally astonished by this news, “And you are my grandfather, Sir Lauriston?”

  “Yes,” Sir Lauriston du Lac agreed, “If Myrrdin Emrys is to be believed.”

  “Oh, you can believe Myrrdin Emrys,” Merlin said and it was obvious that the boy was struggling hard to keep a straight face.

  “Did you know, Merlin?” Galahad asked for he knew only too well how good his friend was at keeping a secret.

  “No, I did not,” the boy enchanter admitted.

  “Did you, Galapas?” Galapas was aware that the High Mage had not spoken a word since Myrrdin Emrys had arrived amongst them.

  “No, Galahad, I’m afraid not,” Galapas said. “This is Enchantment that is far beyond my Powers.”

  “I am High Mage to the greatest Battle King that this world will ever see, to King Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King,” Myrrdin Emrys said although his words meant very little to any of them except Merlin.

  “And my father…” Galahad was still trying to understand what he was being told.

  “…is his greatest knight,” and then Myrrdin Emrys continued quietly in a voice that almost chilled the blood, “And also his most flawed.”

  That shook Galahad.

  “And will I also be flawed,” the boy warrior asked in a small voice, “Like my father?”

  “No, Galahad,” the stranger told the boy and the strength was back in his voice once more. “There are no flaws in you. You are destined for great deeds. This was why I had to hide you in this Time while Arthur’s temper cooled.”