by C. J. Busby
Max ducked into the trees with the hawk on his shoulder, and tried to get closer to Morgana without being seen. Morgana was standing a little apart from the fighting and talking urgently with Sir Richard Hogsbottom, who had made his way over to her while carefully avoiding any fighting.
Max stopped, just hidden from them by a large oak tree, and, with the slightest shimmering in the air, the hawk disappeared and in its place stood Merlin. He had his sword strapped on, and was wearing a long travelling cloak, and he looked, as usual, like a capable, sturdy knight. But Max knew that this was one fight where sword skills would be pretty much useless. Which was just as well, really, he thought with a grin, as his own sword skills were pretty much non-existent. And with that thought, he realised that he didn’t actually feel scared at the prospect of facing Morgana. He felt excited, and glad that the king finally knew the truth about his sister and that now, one way or another, she would either win or be defeated.
He glanced up at Merlin, and Merlin smiled and nodded. He, too, looked glad to be facing a straightforward fight. He held up one hand and watched Morgana for a few seconds. She looked like she was getting ready to enter the fray with a few well-chosen potions and powders. Her magic, unlike Merlin’s, was always encased in spell objects or bottles.
“Max,” Merlin said, in a low, urgent voice. “It’s time. Morgana is a very powerful sorceress. She may fight, but she may also flee, and if she does we must be ready to follow her wherever she goes. Keep close to me – I’ll make sure you aren’t left behind. And when we face her, remember we are not trying to kill her. I doubt if, even together, we could. We are trying to contain her, to cage her magic, to stop her being able to act in the world. Bend your magic to those ends, and I will do the same, and together we may succeed.”
Max nodded, and Merlin stepped out from behind the tree and threw a spell at Morgana as soon as he had a clear line of sight. She turned, and her face went white with shock, but she plucked a pin from her hair and broke it in one swift moment, activating a counter-spell which dissipated Merlin’s magic instantly.
“You!” she said, in a voice cold with rage. “But I left you—”
“Half dead from the poison you put in my wine, my lady. But unfortunately for you, only half dead. And Lady Griselda Pendragon,” he bowed to Max with a smile, “is an expert on the magic of poisons, and brought her considerable talent to bear on bringing me back to full health. So, Morgana, I think it’s time we had a serious discussion about your unforgivable treachery.”
At these words, Sir Richard Hogsbottom, who had been looking rather like he wanted to be sick ever since Merlin had appeared from behind the tree, started to gently tiptoe backwards away from the confrontation. Morgana, however, turned, and seized him by the neck of his tunic.
“Deal with the brat!” she hissed, pushing him towards Max, then she turned back to Merlin and threw a scattering of powder in his direction.
Sir Richard swallowed and pulled a bottle out of his tunic. He moved cautiously towards Max, holding the bottle out in front of him like a shield, preparing to flick its contents at Max as soon as he got close enough. Max almost laughed.
He gave Sir Richard a considering look, and then said, “Well, I seem to remember you made a good frog last time… How about another go?”
Just as Sir Richard flung the contents of the bottle at Max, Max focused on the frogspell and aimed it straight at Sir Richard’s head. But neither spell reached its target, because at that moment Morgana disappeared with a loud POP and Max found himself dragged behind Merlin through what felt like a whirlwind.
***
After several minutes of tumbling through the air, Max hit the ground. When the world stopped spinning he realised he was on his hands and knees on the floor of Morgana’s chamber in Castle Gore.
“Very impressive,” said Merlin, who was upright, if slightly wild-eyed. “I’ve never known a spell that could transport so many, so far. Just as well I got my fingers to the edge of it, or you would have lost us.”
Morgana looked furious. She had obviously banked on being able to leave Max and Merlin three hundred miles away, and having them here in her chambers was not remotely part of her plan. But she summoned up a charming smile, and swept a large potion bottle off the shelf behind her. It shattered into fragments on the floor and tendrils of orange steam started to curl upwards. A sickly smell began to fill the room.
“No matter, Merlin,” she said, in her lowest, sweetest voice. “I’m always glad to have guests. Please – rest yourselves on my couch.”
Max felt the orange steam curl around him like a warm blanket. It whispered in his ear that it was very late, and he was very tired… He felt heavy, his head needed something to rest on, his legs felt like they were floating in a warm bath, gentle and relaxing… But deep in the heart of the warm, comforting feeling there was a slight hint of cold iron… Max’s head jerked up as he realised he was being spelled.
He felt for the magic, knowing just where to put his energy now, knowing the shape of Morgana’s spells and the way to unravel them – but his sleepiness was increasing, his brain was fuzzy, and his magic seemed to be hard to reach. Max couldn’t undo the spell, and he was sinking deeper and deeper into an enchanted sleep from which he was pretty sure he would never wake up.
The Wardstone
Just as Max’s eyes started to close, there was a loud BANG! The glass in Morgana’s cabinet rattled, and the ground shivered. A dose of fierce, bright magic seemed to flow right through Max, and he opened his eyes wide, his head clear again.
“Thanks,” he muttered to Merlin, who was already throwing another spell at Morgana. She was hurling potion bottles and packets and powders from all corners of the room, breaking precious-looking glass vials, ripping pieces of ancient parchment and gabbling the words of several spells at once, while Merlin looked like he was in the middle of a duel, throwing up his arms to ward off the bursts of magic that were flying in all directions while shooting a few of his own spells at Morgana. The room was full of stars, smoke, explosions of bright light, and the overwhelming hum and buzz of powerful enchantments.
Max stood, bewildered, wondering what on earth he could do to help. Morgana was white as chalk but her blue eyes were fierce, her face utterly focused. Max thought he’d never seen her look so alive. Merlin was frowning in concentration, his hands a blur and his expression grim as he warded off Morgana’s spells and cast ones of his own. Suddenly one of her spells caught him off guard, and he staggered, his eyes widening. She laughed and hurled another, her laugh becoming wild, almost like a scream of triumph.
“No!” shouted Max, and threw up a spell wall between Morgana and Merlin, gasping as her magic slammed through it like a bull through a net of cobwebs. But he had slowed her enough for Merlin to recover, and together they pushed her spell aside and stood, panting, ready for the next one.
But it didn’t come. Instead Morgana laughed, and disappeared with a sudden POP! Max felt Merlin reach out to grasp her as she went, and then the whirlwind threw them both up in the air again.
***
This time Max managed not to fall over when they landed. There was rough, stony ground underfoot, with a few stunted trees close by, and what felt like nothing but cold clear sky around them. Far below stood a white castle surrounded by meadows, with the sea visible to the west. They were in the mountains north of Gore, and Morgana was standing a few paces away, her back to a sheer rock face with a dark cave mouth just visible behind her. Her black hair was falling wildly round her face, and she had one hand on a huge, strangely shaped rock of dark crystal which sang with power.
“It’s the end, Merlin,” she said, with a twisted smile. “This place is the heart of my magic. This is where I have gathered all my power, brewed all my most potent enchantments. You cannot defeat me here. This rock is a wardstone. It will protect me against any spell you care to throw at me.” She held her arms out wide, mocking. “Try it!”
Merlin frowned, and Max
felt him gather his magic and fling it at Morgana. There was a shiver in the air, a tremor in the ground, but Morgana stood unharmed. She laughed.
“You have failed, Merlin. You cannot touch me – but I… I can turn whatever magic I wish on you.” Her voice cut into them like shards of ice, and as she spoke she gestured towards them both and the air exploded. Max staggered as the strong iron bands of Morgana’s magic started to squeeze him tightly – but he was quicker to react this time, and he managed to shake them off after only a few seconds. As he emerged from the spell he saw that Merlin was already fighting the next one, and before Max even had time to blink, Morgana was laughing and yet more magic was soaring across the space between them.
Merlin was looking grey from the effort of fighting Morgana’s spells and simultaneously trying to break the wardstone’s protection. Max could feel it, a wall made up of a particularly fierce version of Morgana’s cold magic pushing back against every spell they tried to cast. He wanted to yell with frustration as he shoved at it uselessly – but then he suddenly stopped, and remembered that pushing against Morgana’s magic was always the wrong thing to do. She used your efforts, she pulled them into her own spell. All he was doing was helping her. He took a deep breath, and tried to think.
How were they going to get beyond the wardstone? How could he find a spell that Morgana could not immediately break? How could he, or Merlin, contain her, defeat her? He thought of the sleep charm she had almost defeated him with in her chamber. It had worked because it had prevented him using his own magic, left him not only unable to move but unable to think… They needed something that would do the same to Morgana – and hold her forever, not just for a few hours of charmed sleep. But they also needed a spell that would break through the wardstone’s protection, or they were going to be defeated. There was only so long Merlin could continue to repell her magic before he got tired, made a mistake, and left them open to the worst Morgana could do. And her worst would be unimaginably terrible…
And then Max had it! An idea! They could get a spell through the wardstone – but it would have to be one that the wardstone didn’t recognise as harmful. It would have to be one of Morgana’s own spells.
“Merlin!” he whispered urgently. “We need to take one of her own spells and send it back to her. Use her magic against her.”
Merlin ducked a particularly vicious bit of potion and looked across at Max, one eyebrow raised.
“It might work. I’ll distract her while you do it, Max. Ready – NOW!” He raised his arms and sent a storm of enchantments at Morgana that had her staggering backwards, the wardstone humming and sending up crackling sparks into the air between them. Max felt about in the brew of magic around them and caught the edge of one of Morgana’s immobility spells.
Carefully, making sure he didn’t allow himself to get caught in it, he gathered his own magic and embedded it deep inside the dark emptiness around the centre of the spell. At the last moment he thought of the icespell that had encased Camelot – the spell that had caught even Merlin completely unaware and frozen his mind before he could counteract it. Working quickly, he shaped an icespell and threaded it invisibly into the heart of Morgana’s own dark enchantment. Then he took a deep breath and grabbed Merlin’s arm.
“Now!” he said, and felt Merlin’s own magic flow through to join his. They sent the immobility spell, with its secret deeply hidden, soaring towards Morgana while another part of their minds kept up the fireworks display of magic bouncing harmlessly off the wardstone’s shielding.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Max held his breath. This had to work, it had to. Then, with a scream of rage, Morgana realised that the wardstone had been breached. She felt herself bound in the iron bands of her own spell, and woven deep inside it she felt Merlin’s magic, and Max’s. But before she could even begin to fight it, the icespell had her in its grip. Her whole body became still and cold, and the cold began to seep rapidly into every cell, freezing it to hard ice, forever.
***
Max took a deep breath and then felt his legs begin to shake. He sat down quite hard on the rocky ground, and wondered if he was going to be sick. In front of him, Morgana was encased in a slab of ice, her features barely visible beneath the frosted surface. The mountain reached above them into the blue sky and all around there was silence, which seemed to press on Max’s ears.
Merlin was bent over, his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. After a few minutes he straightened and looked down at Max with a sigh of relief.
“Well done, Max. I knew it was a good idea to bring you along. I think you may have just saved us both, as well as the kingdom.”
He sat down beside Max, who was still looking rather white, and put his arm around him.
“It’s okay, Max. Take your time. You’ve probably used more magic in the last half hour than you’ve ever used in your life before. You are going to feel a bit strange for a while.”
Max nodded, and hugged his knees. He was trying not to look at the ice-bound Morgana, but it was quite difficult.
“Is that it, then?” he asked. “She stays in the ice and we never have to worry about her again?”
Merlin looked at the stark mountainside around him. A lone eagle was floating high above them in the blue sky and the castle of Gore was a small white speck in the distance. He rubbed his chin with his hand.
“It seems a good spot to leave her. Maybe further inside that cave. In fact, the cave strikes me as a good spot for a friend of ours, Max. Someone to keep an eye on her. What do you think?”
Max looked up at Merlin’s amused expression and suddenly realised who the wizard meant. He grinned.
“Lady Wilhelmina?”
Merlin nodded. “I heard recently she’d returned to Gore. Her old cave is just a few minutes away. Of course, she’ll have to cart all her cauldrons up here, but I’m sure that won’t take too long. It’s a fine view. And a perfect size for a four-hundred-year-old dragon. I can’t think of anyone Morgana will be safer with.”
He gestured at the ice block containing Morgana, and it disappeared. There was a rumble from deep in the cave and Merlin grinned at Max.
“Added a bit more ice,” he said. “And a few tons of granite. That and a pile of Lady Wilhelmina’s cauldrons ought to keep Morgana firmly in her place.”
He winked, and suddenly looked as if he’d been cured of a particularly nagging toothache. His whole face looked brighter, and more joyful. It was difficult not to feel the same, especially now that Morgana had been removed from sight. Max grinned and sat up straighter.
“So,” he said, looking round at the bare mountainside and the sea glinting in the distance. “How are we going to get home?”
A Well-Deserved Feast
Sir Bertram Pendragon was starting to feel rather hot inside his armour. He had been steadily whacking away with his big sword, parrying the blows of up to three knights at once and taking the occasional hit to his shield, but although he was a valiant knight and as brave as a lion, it was beginning to get rather tiring.
“What ho, Lancelot!” he gasped, as he heaved yet another sturdy blow at a new opponent. “How’s it going your side?”
Lancelot had his back to Sir Bertram and was currently fighting off two knights, his sword a flash of silver that seemed to be in at least three places at any one time. He hardly seemed out of breath, but his hair was dark with sweat.
“I think we’re in with a chance,” he said, and nodded over to the other side of the clearing. “We have a new ally.”
Sir Bertram turned and saw Olivia and Gawaine, who were fighting together with their backs against a large oak tree. Between them they appeared to be holding off two burly knights, with a third on his knees nearby, groaning.
“Jolly good!” panted Sir Bertram. “That should just about do it.” And with a huge heave, he swept the knight in front of him straight into a tree, and whacked the other on the head so hard he crumpled into a heap on the ground. Meanwhile Lancelot had disarmed b
oth his opponents and Vortigern was flapping and quacking in their faces so they couldn’t see where to pick up their swords.
It wasn’t long before all twelve of Morgana’s men were bundled into a sorry-looking heap by the oak tree and Sir Bertram was carefully stacking their swords and other weapons in a pile at the other side of the clearing. Adolphus was patrolling round the huddle of men, breathing a bit of fire every now and again to keep them in line, with Ferocious sitting on his shoulder grinning at them with his sharp yellow teeth.
Mordred was sitting with his back against the oak tree looking fed up, and next to him was Jerome, with a black eye. Snotty and Sir Richard had their heads together, muttering in low voices. Gawaine was standing close by, looking slightly bemused. He seemed to be unsure of what had happened, and whether he was part of the winning side or not, now that the actual fighting was over.
“Well,” said Sir Bertram, stumping over to the others after safely securing the weaponry. “Now what? Where’s Max got to? And what do we do with these?” He gestured at Sir Richard, Snotty and the others. “And what’s happened to Morgana?”
“Morgana has been defeated,” came the voice of the Lady from her position on the bridge. “Her magic is gone from the world. But I only felt it faintly – they must be a very long way away.”
Olivia looked over, startled. “Max has defeated Morgana?”
“Merlin was with him,” said the Lady, frowning. “I felt him arrive – but they disappeared almost immediately.” She concentrated for a second, then nodded in satisfaction. “They are both safe. Ah, well – I suppose I’d better go and find out whether they’ve got any transport back…” She bustled off to the island, tying her long frizzy hair back as she went, and muttering to herself.
