Merlin's Gold

Merlin's Gold - Chapter 28 - The Flight of the Dragon

Chapter 28 – The Flight of the Dragon

Grayle clambered to the top of the central platform and embraced his aunt as he reached the wooden deck, Iseult passing up the re-rolled standard to him.

Guinevere was watching her husband on the southern side of the wall. Arthur's formerly pristine armour was splattered in gore, scratched and dented, but still he shouted, still he fought on. Mark stood next to him swinging his mace in tireless counterpoint to the rhythm of the battle.

Many men on both sides had fallen, but Grayle, shorn of his armour, could only watch helplessly as the two sides battled on. Elyan appeared next to him, and handed Grayle his bow and a quiver of arrows, then hauled up a bundle which contained his chain mail, sword and armour.

"Good lad!" said Grayle. "Thank you."

Elyan nodded at him and, as Grayle fitted the string to his bow, he looked to the west where his father still fought, tiredness showing in every swing of his sword, his balance awry due to his bandaged arm. A stalwart voice behind him lifted his spirits, David still sang on in defiance of the Saxons coming at him, swinging his hammer at Saxon heads, hymns flowing richly from his throat, and inspiring all around him.

The northern segment of the circular defences had fewer men defending but was attracting less of the attack, the brunt being taken by Arthur and Mark to the south as the Saxons vied to see who would take down one or other of the two kings.

"Grayle!" The shout came from below, and Cadan lofted one end of a hastily trimmed pole up to him, allowing him to tie the new flag securely to the wood. He kept the flag tightly furled, holding the standard contained until given the order by Merlin. After struggling manfully into his own chainmail, greaves, and helm, he looked back at Cadan. The man had donned a pot helm and chain mail in preparation for any incursions from the Saxons, his men similarly attired. The group, unused to fighting, hefted a motley selection of weaponry lifted from the dead or dying inside the walls but looked grimly determined to join in if necessary. A sudden surge to the east prompted Joss and his small reserve team to move into action, helping to plug the defences, and Cadan motioned to one of his men to take the lower end of the pole, searching for a weapon, and moving toward Percival.

There was a sudden roar from the west and Grayle turned in time to see Percival fall backward off the step to land on his back, utterly winded and lying helpless on the ground. A massive Saxon warrior leapt up into the gap and stood on the top of the wall roaring his defiance at the defenders. Instantly, two arrows sprouted from his chest and he toppled back onto his fellows as Guinevere and Iseult lowered their bows, hastily nocking new arrows to their strings.

Two more men appeared in the gap left by the fallen warrior as the ladies readied themselves, one falling back with Grayle's white-fletched arrow embedded in his neck. The other jumped down into the compound to loom menacingly over the fallen Percival, his sword held high, but before he could swing the death blow, a massive wooden beam smashed the man off his feet. Cadan, swinging a huge baulk of timber in lieu of a proper weapon, strode into the fray and, as the Saxon warrior made to rise, Iseult calmly put an arrow into his chest. Cadan switched his hold on the lump of timber, grasping it in the middle. Running forwards he threw it side on at the next two Saxons to make it to the top of the wall, smashing them back into their fellows and tumbling them from the wall. An armed group of miners rushed forwards to plug the gap, one passing Cadan a shield and a mace as he passed: another breach in the defences had been narrowly avoided.

Percival struggled to his feet, saluting the archers on the platform with a tired arm and making his way back to the battlements, blood dripping from a fresh cut on his cheek, his face grey with exhaustion.