Merlin's Choice (Stand Tall 2)

Part Twelve: Spellbound

Thick black liquid bubbled and spat from a cauldron equally as dark. "Mid thæm wundorcræft thæs ealdan æwe icthe hate nime Braithes wothdropan ond tha gemengan mid hir blod." Morgana's now-golden eyes rolled back in her skull as she spoke the enchantment. A doll made of unnaturally pale corn husk was clutched in her hands, and she dangled it over the black liquid. "Did you accuire what I need?" she asked, without turning around to acknowledge Mordred's presence.

"Yes, milady," he stepped forward and handed her a long dark string. No - a strand of hair. Braith's hair, snatched from her head as he'd tied the blindfold over her eyes. Morgana took the Dane's lock of hair, and wove it around the doll's neck

"Sy hi unter wittig ond deofol seocnes hir heorte afylth," the rouge witch finished with a smile, and the doll took a plunge into the bubbling blackness below.

---

The young warlock shoved open the doors to the great hall, and was met with many shocked looks. A meeting had been called at the round table, even though it was still early in the morning, and he felt that he needed to hear the latest news of Morgana's army.

"Merlin!" Arthur looked up to see his proper servant once again.

"Sorry I'm late, sire. I won't happen again," the raven-haired young man nodded to his master. Usually he would never suck up like this, but he didn't feel like being a topic of jokes today.

"That's... alright," the king nodded slowly, still numb with surprise, turning back to the knights. Merlin stood in the background, listening like he always did. His heart gave a little jump when he noticed a familiar woman sitting between Gawian and Percival. "Braith, how is it that you escaped Morgana's stronghold?"

"Oh, Arthur, it was simple," the Dane gushed, her words oddly thick and informal. The young warlock grew tense. Something about either her, or her tone, or her body language just... didn't seem right. "Those thugs she hires as gaurds? They know nothing about swordsmanship. Killing them was as easy as slashing out a training dummy," the Dane said nonchalantly. Lies! thought Merlin. Why was she doing this? Braith had not killed anyone, she had not escaped by herself, and she did not lie for her own gain. It didn't sound like she was just having a joke, either.

"And how did you find your way back to Camelot?" Elyan asked, skeptical, yet enthralled by her story.

"I was born and raised on the water, Sir Elyan, and I have a sailor's eye. I found my way by the stars, for at sea that is all you have as a guide," she gestured theatrically. It was obvious to Merlin, who watched her speak with his lip curled in annoyance, that the girl had them all wrapped around her little finger. What was wrong with her?

"And for that we are all grateful," the Pendragon cut in. "Did your short imprisonment give you any insights into what Morgana is planning?"

"Not in the long run, no," Braith said, becoming more serious. "But I do know that she is preparing for war, and that war is, without a doubt-"

"Intended for Camelot," Arthur finished dryly.

The young Queen of Dane dipped her head gravely.

"Is there anything we don't know?" Gawain said quietly. Arthur almost scolded him, but the girl answered first.

"As a matter of fact, there is," she said, her eyes intense. "Morgana is not only amassing Saxon soldiers from my lands, but ones from tribes all throughout Britain. She's even got the Pictish coming down from the north, Arthur, you're not going to stand a chance without my army," Braith's voice rose with urgency near the end of her statement.

"Calm down. She will not attack us that swiftly, if, as you said, she has more soldiers coming in from the northwest," the King spoke. "We have time on our side."