by K. M. Shea
Nymue wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t have rescued you if I knew to whom you had been speaking.” She shivered in horror. “Truly, it is beyond me how you endure those three in your courts. Now, for more genteel topics. Though Morgan and I will not take part in the battle, we do plan to set up a station where we can dress wounds and injuries. One of my handmaidens, Ragnelle, is moon-eyed for your Sir Gawain, so she intends to help us as well.”
“Oh, you’re going to be medics?”
“I assume that is some futuristic, mumbo-jumbo term?”
“The irony of a faerie lady using the term mumbo-jumbo to describe futuristic events has not escaped me,” Britt declared.
“You are odd.”
“And you have the personality of a hag.”
“You fish-wife!”
Britt laughed, and Nymue could keep up her act of disdain for only a couple moments more before she joined Britt with an unlikely giggle.
“Thank you for coming, Nymue,” Britt said.
“You are my friend,” Nymue said in a rare moment of sincerity. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have many of those. So I will be with you as long as you need me.”
The girls exchanged smiles and went on their way, enjoying the last bit of sunshine before the grim reality of the battle would ensue.
The night before the battle, Britt sat just below the crest of a hill and looked out at the ocean of tents spread before her. Flickering campfires were plumes of light, illuminating the soldiers—who looked toy-sized from this distance—huddled around them and casting shadows on tents.
Britt was too far away from the camp to hear any of the murmured conversations shared between soldiers, but the occasional whinny from a horse or dog barking broke the silence.
The sight was strangely pretty, but at the same time haunting. As she watched the soldiers, she couldn’t help but wonder who she would lose the following day. She prayed her knights would be spared, that she wouldn’t lose anyone dear to her… But she knew whether or not she lost any of her personal friends, there would be men who wouldn’t return home to their families because of her actions.
She tore her eyes away from the peaceful sight in front of her and pinched her eyes shut. Her heart ached.
A branch broke, and the guards surrounding her in a semi-circle brandished their weapons in an instant.
“It’s just me.”
Britt forced herself to look up and offer Merlin a shaky smile as he marched past her guards and sat next to her.
The guards frowned at him and took shuffling steps closer to him and Britt.
Merlin frowned up at them. “Yes?”
“’Tis nothing at all, sir,” the guard captain said, even as he drew closer.
“Then will you so kindly back off?”
“Sir Kay told us to take special care with Milord when you visit her,” the guard captain said smoothly.
Merlin scowled. “I’m not going to accost her.”
“Of course not,” the captain agreed, “but we have our orders.”
“Guys,” Britt said. “It’s fine. Thank you, but it’ll be all right.”
The guards looked unconvinced and gazed suspiciously at Merlin.
“You heard her,” Merlin said. “Shoo!”
The guards slowly ambled away, stopping when they were out of hearing range.
“Your foster-brother is awfully meddlesome,” Merlin observed.
Britt tried to chuckle, but the sound got caught in her throat, so she made more of a gurgling croak.
Merlin glanced at her but said nothing as he settled into place, joining her in looking out at the camp. “You can’t let yourself carry too much of this burden, Britt,” he said abruptly. “Yes, some will perish in tomorrow’s battle. But you must remember that if these brave men wouldn’t fight, their families would pay the price. Don’t cheapen their sacrifice and take responsibility for the enemy’s actions.”
He scratched his chin and continued. “I know I once told you to make certain that every drop of bloodshed in battles is worth it, and you’ve done that. You have the biggest army Britain has ever mustered because you’ve proven that things can be better. These men march to your banner—and perhaps to their death—because they believe in the Britain you’ve created, and they want to protect it.”
Britt’s eyes stung with unshed tears. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“How do you know what I’m thinking when I haven’t said a word?” She studied him, hoping for some kind of revelation, but Merlin merely shrugged his shoulders.
“We haven’t had a chance to speak privately since I told you of your status as ageless. Have you had time to adjust yet?”
Britt leaned back, bracing herself by placing her palms on the grassy ground. “I’m much more concerned about tomorrow’s battle.”
Merlin grunted.
“Besides, I meant what I said. No matter what you say, I will die one day, regardless of my immortal status. But I did think about it, and I realized I won’t be alone. I’ll still have Nymue and the rest of the faerie folk. Granted, besides Nymue, I’m not really friendly with anyone else, but it looks like I’ll have time to fix that.…”
“It really doesn’t bother you?” Merlin asked.
“Well, it does a little. But most people would rejoice about it. I’m a little surprised you seem so worried I would take it badly.”
“You are not like most people,” Merlin said. “Relationships and friendships mean a great deal to you. You value them deep in your heart, and you don’t easily let a person slip from you. Immortality is probably the worst thing that can happen to you, as you will be forced to see those you love die.”
“You’re right. It will be hard, but I will always welcome people into my heart.”
“And that will lock you in an endless cycle of loving and watching them leave you.”
Britt’s palms itched from the grass. “Maybe.” She brushed her hands off on her thighs and leaned forward, hugging her legs to her chest. “But the joy of knowing and loving is worth the heartache of losing. It will hurt to say goodbye, but I will never regret loving my knights. I can’t picture not knowing Ector, Kay, Gawain…or you, Merlin.” She smiled at him, but Merlin would not meet her gaze.
Feeling rejected, Britt awkwardly cleared her throat. She plucked a wad of grass in the ensuing, oppressive silence. I guess that was too much for him. I better think of something to lighten the mood.
“The reason I can guess what you’re thinking is because I love you,” Merlin blurted out.
Britt dropped her chunk of grass in surprise and stared, open mouthed, at the wizard.
He still wasn’t looking at her; he was staring down at the camp as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “I realized long ago you are far more important to me than uniting Britain. I knew it shortly after we had that wretched argument about your feelings for me. I could’ve gladly poked Lancelot’s eyes out when he started sniffing around you after discovering you are a woman—and that’s only after I would’ve killed him for stabbing you. And even though I knew how I felt about you, I couldn’t just…I knew I didn’t…” He huffed angrily.
Britt, still in a state of shock and delight at his obvious embarrassment, refrained from helping him.
With a frustrated sigh, he rubbed his forehead. “I should’ve better prepared for this. I should have taken notes or read a book or something. It is merely…I couldn’t say anything,” he spat out. “I ruined your life! I’ve caused you so much pain just by bringing you here. And my thoughtlessness will cause you so much pain in the future now that you’re ageless.” He finally met her gaze, and Britt was startled by the anguish in his eyes.
“I don’t even know how to show you that I love you because the second I met you, you changed everything,” he whispered.
Britt, finally taking pity, leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know. It’s the same for me.”
Merlin exhaled, a
rattling noise that sounded as if it began in his heart.
“It’s all right, Merlin,” she continued. “It’s like I said earlier. It’s worth all the heartache, no matter the outcome.” She sat upright, then held out her hand. “I have loved you regardless, and I’m still thankful that you brought me here.”
Slowly, as if he were a tad frightened, Merlin extended his own hand and entwined his fingers with hers.
Britt smiled down at their hands, then yipped when Merlin yanked her into an unexpected embrace.
“I should say something here,” he muttered into her neck. “But I can’t think of anything that can accurately express my feelings without making me sound like one of those dramatic minstrels who skulk around your halls.”
Britt laughed. She laughed with the joy of knowing that her feelings were returned; she laughed at the unexpected delight of seeing Merlin brought low by his own doing, and she laughed with the security of one who knows she is loved.
Merlin tugged her closer still, threading one of his hands through her hair and gripping her waist with the other.
“You’re wearing too much armor,” he said, looking at her darkly.
She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’ll get over it.”
Her heart galloped in her chest when he slid his fingers along her jaw line and tipped her head back.
Merlin, his fine blonde hair glittering in the moonlight, smiled at her with eyes alight with tenderness and love. “I love you, Britt Arthurs,” he repeated.
Before she could respond, he kissed her, and the rest of the world faded into insignificance.
Merlin’s kiss was light and warm, but it hit her with the strength of a stab to the chest. It was barely more than a caressing brush, but the chemistry it packed made Britt’s mind explode. For the first time since arriving in ancient Britain, everything was right. She did not feel pulled between two times, but just existed in the moment.
When he released her, he shook his head lightly. “Are you sure you don’t have some faerie blood after all, because that was…”
“Magical?” Britt suggested.
Merlin did not let her go far, but instead rested his forehead against hers. “I know magic, and it pales in comparison to that,” he said in a hoarse voice.
Britt tried to laugh, but she could only airily exhale. She closed her eyes and savored the moment, committing to memory the warmth of Merlin’s hug and the brush of his silken hair against her forehead. “So if you’ve been in love with me since our argument, that means you’ve been holding out a long time,” she said.
“Hmm?” Merlin said, seemingly distracted as he ran a hand through her hair again. “Oh, aye.”
“Which means you owe me a detailed explanation of how it all went down,” Britt grinned.
“I see. That’s reasonable, I suppose. Though it started when I first saw you, I don’t think it set in until you called me a roadside magician.”
“Ahhh. That was when Morgause visited, and you called me an ungrateful pig-child, was it not?”
“Behold, the astounding verbal exchange between lovers,” Merlin said, kissing her cheek.
Laughter bubbled up from the pit of Britt’s stomach, and for an evening…everything was perfect.
Chapter 12
The Fight for Britain
Though she wanted nothing more than to fidget and bite her lip, Britt kept her back ramrod straight and her expression serene as she, seated on Roen’s back, faced down the massive Roman army.
The two armies had gathered in what Merlin claimed was called the Vale of Soissons.
Britt didn’t know why the valley had a name—it was utterly unremarkable and looked like every other valley she had seen. (Except for the Roman army positioned at the opposite end, that was.)
Though the sky was heavy with overcast clouds, Britt squinted to try and make out individual soldiers.
The Roman legionnaires were much more intimidating than Britt had imagined. They wore the uniforms Britt had seen in movies—a red woolen tunic with curved metal shoulder guards and body armor, and a skirt made of leather strips. What she had not prepared herself for, however, was the sheer power they radiated.
Each soldier carried a rectangular wooden shield that was more than half as large as he was, a throwing spear, a gladius sword designed for thrusting, and multiple daggers. Whether it was because of all the weaponry they carried or their training, the soldiers were built like bears but had an unnerving amount of organization and moved in precise formations.
The Roman army was not a citizen militia, as many of Britt’s soldiers were. It was a trained war machine that would devour whatever was in its path.
Intermingled with the Roman forces were soldiers from King Ryence’s lands, marked by the orange and green banding on their uniforms.
“Fear not,” Merlin proclaimed loudly as he popped out of the ranks of the army gathered behind Britt. “Though the enemy is fierce, surely God is with us.”
Britt raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that for me, or for the men?”
“For you,” Merlin said. “Everyone else made their peace long ago and is eager to fight on behalf of Britain.” He paused a few moments, directing his horse closer to her so he could ask in a lowered tone. “Are you all right?”
She pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid,” she admitted. “The last time we had a real battle, I didn’t have a clue what was going on, and I was over-confident due to my sketchy knowledge of Arthurian lore.”
“And now?”
“I know better.”
Merlin nodded slowly. “Then I have a question for you. Are Camelot and the Round Table—the justice, honor, and chivalry you’ve fought to incorporate, the lives you’ve changed, and the moral code you’ve established—are they worth fighting for?”
Britt didn’t hesitate to answer. “Absolutely.”
“Then rest on that knowledge,” Merlin advised. “You fight so that your people may live in peace.”
As she mulled over Merlin’s words, she turned in a circle. Much of her tension eased when she saw her army.
Knights and soldiers alike were spread behind her in a glittering array. Banner carriers were posted throughout the mass, marking the different kings and their soldiers with colorful flags that stood out starkly against the backdrop of polished armor.
Merlin was right. Men from all across Britain, Ireland, and Scotland stood together to fight, perhaps for the first time ever, in a united front.
Britt smiled at the picture, and then at the company she was to lead—a large group of Camelot’s best knights, including: Kay, Bedivere, Tor, Mordred, Gawain, Griflet, Lancelot, Lionel, Safir, Lanval, and more.
(Ywain had campaigned hard to be included in her company, but Merlin refused on the basis that someone had to lead the troops Laudine had sent into battle.)
“Did you see Emperor Lucius?” Merlin asked.
“No. Where is he?”
Merlin nodded at the opposing forces. “He’s the one in the fancy armor surrounded by all the banners and flags.”
Though he was too far away to make out the details, Britt spotted the Emperor, who wore a chestplate wrought in one solid piece, and also sported arm and leg guards—unlike his soldiers.
Britt marked him in her mind—he was the one they would have to capture to end this, or he would return to the Roman Empire, gather another army, and march it north again.
King Pellinore, who was included in Britt’s company as he had dumped the responsibility of leading Anglesey’s troops on Percival, broke ranks and joined her and Merlin. “Are you ready, Arthur?”
Britt nodded.
Merlin peered up and down the ranks. “It seems that all preparations are complete. We are ready for battle.”
Pellinore slightly bowed his head. “Then if you would signal the troops, Arthur?”
Britt paused.
“You don’t want to use the agreed upon signal, do you?” Merlin asked.
“Bec
ause it sounds stupid,” Britt said emphatically.
“It will appear impressive,” Pellinore said.
“It will make me look like one of those cheesy heroes in the movies,” Britt argued.
Pellinore tilted his head. “The what?”
“Stop complaining and just do it,” Merlin ordered.
Britt kept an endless grumble going under her breath as she nudged Roen forward, pulling out in front of the army so all could see her. She kept complaining as she unsheathed Excalibur—the magic sword seemed to glow in the gloom of the valley—then swung it up in the air.
As planned, Merlin hit Excalibur with a burst of magic, making it shine like an exploding star.
The little show made the British army cheer, but Roen—who was quite difficult to spook—apparently drew the line at having a beacon shine above his head and reared with a loud whinny.
Britt—a competent enough rider but not the naturals her knights were—turned her grumblings into muffled oaths as she clung to the saddle and tried to stay seated without stabbing herself or her gelding with her bare sword.
The cheers grew thunderous at this spectacle, and Britt forced herself to smile as she returned to her company of knights.
Merlin nodded in satisfaction. “Well done,” he said.
Britt watched as different parts of their army pulled out. Among the first was Ywain and his troops, moving with his father, King Urien and his soldiers. On the opposite end were Agravain and King Lot, leading Orkney troops into battle. Next, King Anguish and his army moved out, followed shortly by Sir Ector with Bonmaison soldiers, and Duke Maleagant and King Bagdemagus with their forces.
Britt watched them sweep across the vale, their weapons drawn as they descended upon the enemy soldiers with shouts.
“For Britain!”
“For Arthur!”
The Roman army moved as one, holding their formations and raising their shields against any mounted knights. The song of weapons clashing and the thump of shields being smacked filled the air, nearly eclipsing the shouts. Roman archers, positioned farther back, began releasing waves of arrows and picking off British soldiers.
