Merlin and the Land of Mists: Book Five: The Battle for Avalon Read online

  Merlin

  and

  the Land of Mists

  by

  P.J Cormack

  Book Five

  ‘The Battle for Avalon’

  P.J CORMACK

  Best-selling author of

  “Excalibur, the Seeking for the Sword”

  A Spellbinding New Series

  “MERLIN AND THE LAND OF MISTS”

  Book One: THE DARK LORD

  Book Two: THE MINOTAUR

  Book Three: GALAHAD

  Book Four: THE DRUIDS

  Book Five: THE BATTLE FOR AVALON

  Book Six: EXCALIBUR END GAME

  OUT NOW

  P.J Cormack

  a magical new series

  “MALACHI’s QUEST

  Book One: THE BEGINNING

  Book Two: THE LEARNING

  Book Three: THE KNOWING

  Book Four: THE SEEKING

  Book Five: THE FINDING

  Book Six: THE ENDING

  www.pjcormack.com

  DEDICATION

  For Rosemary Sutcliff, a friend, a most gracious lady and a truly great authoress.

  Copyright © 2016 P.J Cormack

  KINDLE Edition

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  PublishNation, London

  www.publishnation.co.uk

  Author’s Note

  ‘The Land of Mists’ was the Druidic name for that

  part of the United Kingdom now known as Wales.

  When Evil stands at Camelot’s Gates.

  Then will come he of the Old Magic,

  In a time before the Raising of the Sword

  By the Old Magic will Evil fall.

  The Unicorn, the Dragon, the Raven and the Undead

  Will face those Evils that all Camelot dreads.

  By the Power of the Raven Boy and the Power of the land,

  Shall all be protected and all Evil withstand.

  Enchantment from a future long foretold

  That which will summon the boldest of bold,

  Comes the white haired boy at first untrusted

  He of Lancelot’s line but never corrupted.”

  From Mona’s Isle comes the Druid girl

  To Camelot’s in its time of black.

  Power from the Winter now unfolds

  To the Beasts of Magic before untold.

  And Evil once more to Camelot shall come

  When the Lord of the Dark seeks all to succumb.

  And the Hunter shall be raised, the Oldest of Old,

  So shall the Army of Death by the Dead be scald.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE GREAT THRONE ROOM

  CAMELOT

  King Uther Pendragon was not a happy man.

  In fact happiness seemed to have deserted him completely since the death of Camelot’s beautiful Queen Alona.

  Today seemed to be just like any other day and the king was sat in Camelot’s magnificent Great Throne gazing aimlessly into space.

  The way into the Great Throne Room was guarded on both sides of the door by the Knights of Camelot. Behind the king’s Great Throne stood two more guards. It should have been totally impossible for anyone to enter the Great Throne Room without the king’s permission.

  This made it even more surprising for King Uther Pendragon when there was a great flash of light followed by a loud bang and the figure of Merlin, the son of Mithras Invictus, the greatest and cruellest of the Elder gods, was stood before him.

  The king’s response was instantaneous and totally predictable. “Guards,” King Uther Pendragon bellowed in a voice that had always been clearly heard over any battlefield that he fought on.

  “I don’t think so,” Merlin told the king and, without the boy enchanter apparently moving a muscle, every guard was frozen in Time even as they had rushed forward to seize him.

  “You,” the king pointed a finger that shook with anger at Merlin. “You are banished from my Court and Camelot on pain of death. Guar…” The king went to shout again but this was as far as he got.

  “Quiet, Uther,” Merlin told the apoplectic king, “I can freeze you in Time just as I have your guards – or worse if I choose.” There was more than a hint of warning in the boy’s voice. “Now do something new -shut up and listen instead of shouting at everyone.”

  So stunned was King Uther Pendragon, more at the manner of how the boy enchanter spoke to him rather than what he said, that Camelot’s king did indeed lean back on the Throne and listen.

  Even so he continued to stare at Merlin with eyes that were filled with hatred.

  “The Dark Lord is gathering his Army of the Dead,” Merlin spoke as if he was addressing someone who was one sandwich short of a picnic. “The Dark Lord is gathering his Army of the Dead,” the boy repeated. “He intends to march into Camelot and Avalon and destroy every living thing that he finds there. He will kill every man, woman and child in Avalon and raze Camelot to the ground. And he will do this whether I live or die.”

  Merlin was fully aware that, in the Dark Lord’s previous attempts at destroying Avalon, it had only been the boy enchanter’s very presence that had prevented the Dark Riders and the Army of the Dead from crossing Avalon’s borders.

  That had now changed for the Dark Lord had returned with an even greater strength that he had gathered from his time spent in the Underworld that was Hell.

  “Hopefully the latter,” King Uther Pendragon said, leaving Merlin in no doubt that the king wished him dead.

  Merlin gave Camelot’s king a look that would have curdled milk.

  “You are an even bigger fool than I took you for, Uther, if I die Avalon is doomed. Try not to be such a complete idiot.”

  The king’s temper went up a couple of notches more while his face turned a very interesting shade of red.

  “You should learn to watch your mouth,” the king told the boy enchanter.

  “I can’t,” Merlin quite simply replied. “My nose is in the way.”

  “Have you come here just to hurl insults around?”

  King Uther Pendragon seemed to be reaching new levels of temper tantrums and it was not a particularly pleasant sight.

  “Of course not,” Merlin told the king. “I leave that sort of thing to you.”

  “Then what?”

  A vein could now be seen throbbing in King Uther Pendragon’s neck and that was never a good sign.

  “I need you to rebuild my father’s altars. They are vital to Avalon’s defence against the Dark Magic.” Merlin bluntly told Camelot’s king.

  For centuries Merlin’s father, the greatest of the Elder gods, Mithras Invictus, also known as the Bull Slayer, had protected Avalon. He had ringed the very boundaries of Avalon with his altars and they had formed an impenetrable barrier against the Dark Lord and his Dark Forces.

  The increasingly unstable King Uther Pendragon had first forbidden the worship of the Elder god and then had fin
ally ordered that every altar dedicated to Mithras Invictus was to be completely destroyed.

  Now the Elder god had lost interest in the country that he had once loved so deeply and had left Avalon just as all the other Younger and Elder gods had done before him.

  Even so Mithras Invictus had left his altars as a protection to Avalon. It was this once impenetrable defence that Camelot’s Knights had destroyed on the orders of their king.

  “My Knight Commander, Sir Lauriston du Lac, and the Knights of Camelot are quite capable of defending Avalon,” King Uther Pendragon told the boy enchanter.

  “I don’t think so,” Merlin’s voice was dismissive.

  He knew that, for all the legendary loyalty and bravery of the Knights of Camelot, they had no magic with them. They could not stand against the Dark Lord and his Dark Magic.

  “Watch my lips,” King Uther Pendragon told the dark-haired boy who stood so defiantly before him. “I will never rebuild the altars of Mithras Invictus.”

  The king looked smugly at Merlin as if he had just made some momentous and wise decision which he most definitely had not.

  “If Avalon didn’t need what is to come from you,” the boy bleakly told Camelot’s king, “I would blast you out of existence here and now, Uther Pendragon. In fact I’m surprised that my father didn’t do it years ago.”

  “You boast of your magical powers, Merlin,” King Uther Pendragon’s voice dripped with contempt. “Of how you save Camelot in supernatural battles that we never see. Where are these so-called godlike powers of yours? If you really are the son of a god.”

  The king seemed to have completely forgotten that his guards were all standing around him frozen in Time by the boy enchanter. You would have thought that was more than enough proof of Merlin’s powers but apparently it was not.

  “Oh, I am truly the son of the Bull Slayer,” Merlin replied with more than a hint of anger. “And my Power is my birth right, which is more than can be said for you.”

  That barb certainly hit home. Both Merlin and King Uther Pendragon and probably the rest of the world were fully aware that Uther had only become Camelot’s king due to the unexpected and untimely death of his older brother, King Ambrosius.

  “My father...” The king started to say but his words were cut short by Merlin’s dismissive and brutal voice.

  “…was a great man.” The boy enchanter finished for the king, “And so was your brother but you would never have become king if Ambrosius had lived.”

  “You can bleat as much as you like,” the king told the boy enchanter. “But hear this again – I will never allow the altars of Mithras Invictus to be rebuilt. And I will find you and that boy Galahad and,” King Uther Pendragon paused and added for good measure, “When I do, you will both wish that you had never been born. That much I can promise you.”

  For a moment Merlin just looked the king up and down and a wiser man that King Uther Pendragon would have realised that he was on very dangerous ground indeed.

  “You know, Uther,” the boy enchanter had just about reached the end of his tether with Camelot’s king. “You make as much noise as a pig with trapped wind. Personally I’d rather have a pig on Camelot’s throne than you.”

  “By the gods, Merlin…” Once more the boy enchanter cut across the king’s words.

  “What gods would that be? Even my father has left Avalon. He has finally tired of you and your childish and inept behaviour.”

  “I am your king,” King Uther Pendragon’s voice echoed around Camelot’s Great Throne Room.

  “No, Uther,” Merlin told him. “You are not and never will be my king. I am of the Old Magic and I am as old as the hills and mountains that surround Avalon and you are less than nothing.”

  “Have you finished?”

  The king asked sarcastically wondering just how much longer it would be before his guards would become unfrozen and could drag the boy enchanter off to Camelot’s deepest and darkest dungeon - or better still have him beheaded on the spot.

  “Just about,” Merlin replied. “But understand this and understand it well, Uther Pendragon, and be warned. The Dark Lord is raising the Dark Magic and the Army of the Dead stands once more at the Gates of the Underworld and I will not let them destroy Avalon. With or without you Avalon will be defended. If you get in my way you will get hurt – not killed but hurt. And one more thing Uther...”

  For probably the first time in his life Camelot’s king was lost for words for Merlin had spoken with such force that even King Uther Pendragon could feel the Old Magic that flowed out from the boy.

  “Yes,” was all that King Uther Pendragon was able to say.

  “Camelot deserves a rest from your voice,” Merlin bluntly told him. “For something like three days, I think. Now shut up and gives us all a break from your shouting and squealing.”

  Merlin lifted his right hand and pointed it at the king with no apparent effect other than the guards becoming instantly unfrozen.

  They made a desperate effort to grab the boy enchanter but found that they were only grasping at empty air for Merlin had disappeared.

  The guards turned to their king for guidance but when Camelot’s High King, King Uther Pendragon, tried to speak his voice came out only as the squealing of a very large and very annoyed pig. He was to remain like that, exactly as the boy enchanter had predicted, for three whole days.

  The few guards who dared to reveal what had passed between Camelot’s king and the son of the Elder god, Mithras Invictus, in Camelot’s Great Throne Room had reported that the squeal had come as close to saying the word ‘Merlin’ as a pig would ever be able to speak.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE CRYSTAL CAVE

  AVALON

  They were an unlikely trio, the three figures that waited patiently by the entrance to the Crystal Cave.

  They were Kraak the huge black raven who was King of the Raven Kind, Galahad the fair-haired boy warrior who had appeared so mysteriously among the Great Stones of Avalon on a stormy magic-driven night and Grim the Ghoul who by his own reckoning had been dead for well over two hundred years.

  An unlikely trio they might be. But all three of them had already stood fearless and unflinching by Merlin’s side as the boy enchanter had defended Camelot from the many threats and enemies that had sought to overrun and destroy Avalon and all who lived in it.

  The Crystal Cave had been the earthly shrine of Merlin’s father, the Greatest of the Elder gods, Mithras Invictus, Mithras the Unconquered who was also known as the Bull Slayer. Mithras Invictus was the cruellest of the Elder gods and he had, for a short time, taken human form and visited the Land of Mists.

  There he had seen and fallen in love with a Welsh princess, Princess Ailidh, the daughter of the Welsh king, King Math ap Gwynned.

  Merlin had been born from this union and, in many ways, the boy resembled his father, the Elder god, with his raven coloured hair and deep, almost black, eyes.

  But Merlin had also inherited, from his mother, a gentleness and deep love of Avalon and all that lay in the countryside of the Land of Mists.

  Even though he was the son of a god, Merlin was mortal and knew that he could die. This had not stopped the boy enchanter being prepared, on many occasions, to risk his life for the country that he loved so much.

  It was a grievous burden to lay on the shoulders of an eleven year old boy but one which Merlin had known that he must always carry for his father had departed from Avalon and would never return.

  Now it was left to Merlin to defend Camelot and Avalon against the Dark Arts and the Dark Magic of the fire-driven Being that called itself the Dark Lord.

  Even Galapas, Camelot’s Great High Mage and Merlin’s one-time guardian did not have the magic and enchantment to stand against this Lord of the Dark and his immortal Army of the Dead.

  There was a loud bang followed by a flash of brilliant white light and then Merlin was stood with his three friends that he had dubbed, with good reason, as Heroes of Avalon.


  “So, how did it go?”

  Galahad was the first to speak although the boy warrior had only to see the thunderous expression that was on Merlin’s face to know that the boy enchanter’s meeting with Camelot’s king had not gone particularly well.

  “Not good,” Merlin replied and his three friends could plainly see that the boy was struggling to keep his temper in check.

  “King Uther Pendragon still refuses to rebuild your father’s altars?” Galahad asked while feeling that he was rather stating the obvious. One look at the dark expression on Merlin’s face had already told him rather more than he wanted to know.

  “You could say that,” Merlin seemed to force out the words from behind clenched teeth.

  “Did you explain to him why Mithras’ altars needed to be there, to stand as a protective shield for Avalon against the Dark Lord?” Galahad questioned while being quite certain that he was pursuing a lost cause.

  “I certainly did,” Merlin answered once more with more than a little anger.

  “And he still wouldn’t listen?”

  “He’s a complete and utter idiot.” The boy enchanter’s answer was more than terse but Galahad could see that his friend’s anger, as it always did, was slowly draining away.

  “Mmmmmm,” Galahad thought it best not to say anything more in case he re-ignited his friend’s irritation.

  “Grim would always do what the Raven Boy said,” Grim put in with a very quiet and rather nervous voice.

  The Raven Boy was the name that the ravens and the other Mythical and Magical Beasts of Avalon called Merlin. It had served the boy enchanter well for the knowledge of a person’s true name was a great power in the world of Magic and Enchantment. The Dark Lord did not know Merlin’s birth name and, more importantly, he did not know that the boy was god-born.