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| Molly Quinn from Castle: If Lancelot were ever made into a movie this would be the person I wanted to play Morgan. |
Arthur protested, “I’m not going to let my men die–“
“Your men do not need a dead king. Lady Gabriella,
Sir Stephen. Go with them. Make sure all make it out
safely. Go, now, all of you.”
“Don’t worry, Arthur. I will lead the men. If
Iwillatan is with the others, they will need me anyway.”
Arthur’s men gathered around Merlin.
“We are going to be attacked. Prepare yourself for
battle.”
They pulled their swords.
“We ride!”
“For King Arthur!” Sir Hector shouted.
“For King Arthur!” They echoed.
One hundred horses thundered through the gates of
Camelot.
Just outside the city there was a plain, a large area of
flat land that had been cultivated for years.
Merlin saw Morgan’s armies march out of the wood
and into the clearing. A group of archers knelt as Arthur’s
men spurred their horses.
“Shields up before we get in range.”
Just then, the archers fired.
“What the devil are they doing?”
Arthur’s men raised their shields, but it didn’t seem
to matter. The distance between the two armies should have
been too great for the arrows to reach and even then they
should have been blocked by the shields, but Merlin
watched in terror as knights fell off their horses as arrows
that somehow found open spaces pierced them.
“I have seen this before,” Merlin thought. The
archers raised their bows once more. “This will be a
slaughter,” He thought.
He whispered the words of magic and as soon as the
arrows flew, they swerved off course and missed their
targets. Then, Arthur’s men poured through the enemy
soldiers and bounced them left and right, many trampled
under horses’ hooves.
Then, Morgan’s riders surged forward and met
Arthur’s soldiers. Their swords crashed together like
thunder. Merlin swung his staff at one of the riders and
connected with his helmet. The rider should have dropped
on the spot but he rode on. Merlin’s arms tingled with pain,
and his staff vibrated.
“There is magic here,” he said and rode his horse
forward as the armies engaged in hand-to-hand combat. He
rode past the fighting into a dark part of the forest. He
closed his eyes to concentrate. Magic blazed like a signal
fire, and when he was sure of where he was, he dismounted
and sneaked into the woods.
He had no trouble finding the trail because the heat
of the magic intensifying led him to its origin.
He thought of the children’s game where one child
hides something and another tries to find it. He had
definitely gotten warmer.
He found her on a hill overlooking the battle. By her
side stood a young girl probably 16 or so: Morgan.
He shuddered when he looked beneath the illusion
this Iwillatan used to hide her true appearance. Although he
could not see the battle, he knew how it went by the
exclamations of joy from Morgan’s mouth.
If he had known what would happen to the girl, he
would have – but he stopped his line of thinking. What
happened had happened, and all he could do was curse his
imperfect gift of precognition.
He circled to the bottom of the hill behind them. He
did not dare use any kind of spell to help himself because he
believed that Iwillatan would feel it just as he had felt her
power.
He crawled carefully up the hill and drew close to its
crest.
Morgan laughed the beautiful, clear laugh of a child,
but Merlin knew that she laughed at the slaughter of
Arthur’s knights.
This realization suddenly infuriated him. He jumped
to his feet, and before either could react, lunged forward and
cracked Iwillatan with his staff. She staggered forward and
dropped to her knees, but she did not lose consciousness.
“You!” An invisible forced knocked Merlin back.
He reciprocated with a force so hard, Iwillatan
flipped backward, turning a complete 360 degree circle in
the air and then crashing on the ground.
Merlin jumped to her prone form. He pressed the
end of his staff against her chest. “Don’t move.”
Although she squirmed like a worm on a hook, she
could not escape from Merlin.
“Don’t hurt her!” Morgan cried. She started forward.
“Don’t move, Morgan, or I will kill this creature on
the spot.”
“Who are you?” Merlin asked and pressed down
with his staff. Iwillatan hissed. “Tell me now!”
“I am the evil one.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The serpent.”
“I have not heard of you.”
“These people bring in their unknown god, but they
don’t realize that where he goes I follow.”
“What do you want?”
“To destroy.”
Morgan burst into tears. “Please, don’t hurt her.
She’s the only one who cares about me.”
“Do you know what this really is?”
“The only mother I ever had.”
Merlin raised his staff. “Reveal your true nature.”
“No!” Iwillatan screamed. The air around her
shimmered and her form began to shrivel and shrink. Her
skin turned brown and leathery. Her legs and arms
disappeared. Her tongue flickering from her mouth was
forked. Her eyes turned yellow with black slits.
“Do you want this loathsome evil as your mother?”
On the ground, coiling, hissing, and spitting was a
serpent. Morgan’s eyes narrowed on the serpent as it
slithered toward her. In horror, Merlin watched as the snake
slithered up her leg and coiled around Morgan’s waist.
Morgan patted its head like it was a pet.
“You better look after your men, Merlin.”
He had forgotten! He whirled around to see the
battle. Arthur’s men had rallied and were beating back
Morgan’s army.
Merlin turned back around, but they were gone. He
heard a ghostly voice, “It isn’t over.” Then hissing filled his
head and reverberated in his brain.
***
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