"Lancelot's map says we should have reached the circle of Elder Trees by now," Arthur said.
"Wait," Morgana said. "Are you saying there is problem with Lancelot's map?"
Arthur had, on a whim, separated his troupe into four groups of four, to make it easier to find the loop of legend trees Lancelot had described. Merlin privately felt it may have been for the best, because he didn't want the new knights to see how childish Morgana and Arthur became in each other's presence when things went south.
As the siblings started bickering, Merlin noticed a stone tablet on the ground, with four colorful circles on it in the four cardinal directions, and little symbols carved on them.
"Gaius told me how to read these," Merlin whispered.
"But those are druid markings!" Arthur said, a hint of accusation in his voice.
Merlin's nimble fingers traced the curves and lines, his mind racing to decipher their hidden meaning. It became clear to him that the tablet held a secret, a key to unveiling the path to the coveted circle of Elder trees. A surge of excitement coursed through him as realization dawned upon him.
"Arthur, Morgana, Tristan," Merlin called out. "Stand in a circle for me."
Merlin took charge, his mind buzzing with determination. He sought out a sturdy fallen branch, its gnarled wood capable of withstanding trial by fire. With a flick of a rock against the stick, (and a bit of help from magic) he ignited the end of the branch with a mesmerizing flame. Holding it firmly, he approached Morgana.
"Morgana," Merlin said, his voice filled with trust and purpose. "You will embody the element of fire. Hold this burning branch, which represents your strength of spirit."
Morgana's eyes lit up with a mixture of curiosity and determination as she accepted the branch, its flame dancing in the air. She felt a connection to the branch, its warmth resonating inside her.
Next, Merlin handed the rock in his hand to Arthur.
"Arthur," Merlin said, his voice steady and confident. "You are the embodiment of strength, reliability, and determination. Take this rock in your hand, and let the weight of the earth fortify your resolve."
Arthur's grip tightened around the stone, its weight grounding him in his purpose. He felt the connection to the earth beneath his feet, the solidity and stability flowing through his veins.
Moving on, Merlin brought out a flask, half-way full of pure amber castor oil.
"Tristan," Merlin addressed, his voice soothing and calm. "You possess a fluidity and adaptability that aligns with the element of water. Hold this flask, and let its essence remind you of the power of flexibility and harmony."
Tristan accepted the flask, its coolness a gentle reminder of the ebb and flow of life. He felt a deep connection to the element of water, its calm presence soothing his spirit.
Finally, Merlin stood before his comrades, his hands empty but his heart open. He embodied the element of air, a force that was both obvious and intangible. He took a breath, centering himself, and looked into their eyes.
"And I," Merlin declared, his voice carrying the weight of his purpose, "shall hold the essence of air in my hands. It is the unseen force that whispers through the leaves and carries our fickle whims."
With each element represented, the group formed a hallowed circle. The ground beneath them responded, shifting and trembling in acknowledgement. The forest seemed to awaken, a whisper of ancient magic echoing through the trees. In that moment, they knew they had unlocked the path to the source of mystical power they sought--the ring of Elder trees, bathed in a soft delicate light.
Together, with their connection to the elements, they stepped forward, ready to embrace the enchantment and protection that awaited them within the sacred circle of the Elder trees.
"Tristan!" Arthur said, "Gather up the rest of the knights. And not a word of what just happened...to anyone. Better safe than sorry."
--
Arthur surveyed the magnificent trees that surrounded them, their ancient branches reaching towards the sky. "Knights of Camelot!" he called out, his voice resonating with authority. "These Elder trees hold the key to enhancing our defenses and fortifying our kingdom. Make haste! Gareth's group! Cut the trees to their roots! Lionel's group! Carve the fallen trees into logs. Safir's group! Load the wagon. Tristan! Feed the horses! Morgana and Merlin, come with me."
Gareth's group set to work, their swords and axes meeting the trunk of the first Elder tree with resounding thuds. The forest echoed with the sound of splintering wood.
Merlin, remembering the consequence of greed, knew he must act quickly. The magic of the Elder trees was a gift not to be taken lightly. Determined to protect Arthur and the kingdom from the wrath of the Mother Tree Spirit, he cast a silent spell upon the prince.
"Gareth!" Arthur called out. "I just remembered...Uther forbade us to cut down more than one tree. If we carry too heavy a load, it will endanger us on the journey back. Help the others after you cut down the one tree."
Gareth nodded at Arthur, who ushered Merlin to accompany him and Morgana. The group of three trudged over the hill so they could speak with a trace of privacy.
"Morgana and Merlin. I hope you understand it is not just Tristan who should hold his tongue about that druid circle. Merely the appearance of it is not chaste. I should think it would be...unfortunate for people in Camelot to hear about it. Not the least of all my father."
"What do you think we have to fear?" Morgana said, her eyes glinting. "It's not like we did magic, is it?"
"I'm not sure he'll see it that way. You know how Uther feels about the druids," Arthur said. "I swear, if this is a prank from Lancelot..."
"If that's the case, he really pulled one over you, didn't he?" Morgana said.
"And Merlin--Gaius should not be able to read druid symbols, let alone teach them! What was he thinking?"
"The druids have a library of ointments and cures, many of which have nothing to do with magic! Would you rather Gaius be a slipshod physician, who ignores swathes of knowledge because of old prejudices?"
"Well, given that also summarizes the quality of Uther's monarchy due to his views on magic, I wouldn't keep my hopes up," Morgana said.
"Morgana! Uther has been nothing but generous to you, and you repay him with nigh treasonous words! I near the end of my rope with you."
"And what would you do? Wave your pointy metal at me? You are just jealous, because Uther adores me, while he worries daily about what kind of heir you will be. How do you think he would feel, knowing you led us into this massive argument?"
"You are a witch of the mind, even if you have no spells! Leave me be, Morgana! Why I ever choose to confide in you is the greatest mystery in this forest!"
The thunder of their argument was soon matched by a roar that overtook the knights breaking down the Elder tree.
"Ambush!" Lionel yelled. "Prince Arthur! Ambush!"
Chaos erupted as the Saxons descended upon the group, their swords clashing against the knights' armor. Panic and heat surged through the air, mingling with the scent of sweat and fear. Arthur fought valiantly, still enraged (and perhaps a bit rash) due to his lingering quarrel with Morgana. To add insult to injury, the brutes threw a burlap bag over her and began to cart her off amongst more raucous screams. Arthur cried out, his sword slashing through the enemy ranks, but the sheer number of Saxons threatened to overwhelm him. Eventually, the rogue swing of a soldier's spiky morningstar blindsided him and sent him tumbling to the ground. His sword lay several feet away.
As the Saxon approached, winding up for the final blow, Merlin stepped forward. With a swift incantation, he conjured a powerful gust of wind, pulling a pair of logs into the air, which smashed the line of Saxons and sent them careening down the hill.
As the wind died down and the dust settled, Arthur's eyes met Merlin's, and a profound sense of betrayal filled the prince's gaze. He could hardly believe what he had seen, and yet it was right in front of him.
He had witnessed Merlin's use of magic. The forbidden, dark art his father hated with every ounce of blood in his veins. Confusion and anger warred within Arthur, his trust in his closest advisor shattered.
Arthur glared at Merlin. The rage and disappointment in his eyes was like nothing Merlin had ever remembered. His heart raced, slamming against his chest, like it was trying to smash itself out of a cage of humiliation, but there was no escape.
Merlin knew their friendship hung in the balance. His voice trembled with regret as he spoke, desperately trying to explain his intentions. "Arthur, I had to protect you! To protect Camelot. Please, Arthur. Please!"
Unable to form words, Arthur shook his head like he was shaking off a fly.
"Arthur, please..." Merlin whispered, trying to contain himself.
"Leave now, Merlin. If you disappear, I can pretend you escaped during the chaos. Otherwise..."
"I'm not going anywhere, Arthur!"
"Then you are your own worst enemy," Arthur hissed. "I'm going to find Morgana. If we don't, Uther will have twice as many reasons to destroy us."
Grief etched itself upon Merlin's features, but he fell silent.
Almost as soon as Arthur had finished berating Merlin, a figure approached on the horizon, holding the burlap bag in his hand.
"Could that be..." Arthur whispered. "Lancelot?"
Arthur ran toward him, Merlin following in the wake.
"Get me out of this dirty cabbage sack!" Morgana shrieked.
"Why would we do that?" Lancelot said. "I daresay you look better this way. "And it does work to muffle your screeching."
Morgana tore her way out with a knife, nicking one of Lancelot's fingers.
"Hey!" he yelped. "I could have dropped you, you know. What if you damage my fingers?"
"I'm sure THEY WOULD LOOK BETTER THAT WAY, you hedgeborn fopdoodle!"
"Some thanks for saving your sack of skin."
"You may have saved me, but don't think you've done ANYTHING to save my skin! This bag may as well be made of sandpaper!"
"Put what's left of the bag over Merlin's head," Arthur said. "He's a prisoner of Camelot from here on out."
"C'mon," Lancelot said. "He's not that hard to look at."
"He is to me."