Whether they be Camelot knights or Agravaine's saxons, men fall left and right throughout the battlefield. Angry war cries echo across the walls as the armed men charge towards the front lines only to be cut down by some nearby soldier or shot by the crossbowmen standing up in the battlements. Orders are shouted loud and clear by either Agravaine or Arthur as the men continuously charge at one another, neither side seeming to be able to gain the upper hand.

Merlin's hardly able to contain the horror from his face as he watches the bloodshed in the lower town from the parapet. He's tempted to turn the other way and run back to his mother, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. He turns to see Leon beside him, loading another bolt into his crossbow with a worried expression. "Are you sure you can do this Merlin?" he asks, "Arthur would understand if you can't."

Merlin swallows the lump in his throat as he stares down at the chaos beneath him. Everything is a blur of red and black as the two armies clash and yet, through it all, his eyes are able to pick out the golden glow of his king in the centre of the mass. Arthur is plunging through the army before him, fighting with all his might to defend his home while he stands up on the battlements and away from harm, doing nothing to help.

He shakes his head in response, "No, I can do this. I want to help," he says, hoping Leon didn't hear the slight quiver in his voice.

"There are other ways you can help. You don't need to feel obligated to do anything you don't want to." Leon scrunches his brows with concern.

Merlin takes in a deep breath and lifts up a trembling hand. He points it down towards the army and lets his magic flow towards his fingertips. "I'm not doing this because I feel that it's my duty. I'm doing it because I don't want to lose my home to Morgana a second time."

The warlock shuts his eyes and concentrates. He digs deep into his very core, pulling at the strings and reining in his power. His magic responds to the call. It courses through his veins, filling him to near bursting with energy before he's able to channel the magic towards his hand. Then, with a simple flick of his wrist and a golden glow from his eyes the spell is cast.

The wind suddenly picks up. Its howling cry piercing through the night, louder than any of the shouts from the army below. The dirt and leaves that lie on the battlefield start to spin, twirling and dancing through the air as the wind carries them up. The smoke from the nearby fires are pulled in soon after, helping to create a twister made of darkness in the centre of the incoming army.

Agravaine's soldiers cry out in terror as they're swept up into the whirlwind. No one is safe as the cyclone moves deeper into the crowd, the powerful winds sweeping away any poor soul that attempts to escape.

Merlin concentrates harder, pouring more of his magic into his creation to increase its size while also making sure it won't destroy any of the nearby homes. He can feel himself tiring quickly, his arms growing heavy as time passes. He's never used so much magic at once. Everything he's done before has always been simple things such as lifting a cup or starting a campfire. Never has he made anything of this calibre. 

He starts to feel the magic slip from his grasp and the whirlwind start to weaken. He grits his teeth and tries his hardest to keep hold of the spell, to keep the twister going for a little longer, but his strength fails him. The cyclone fades almost as quickly as it had appeared, the only sign of its existence being the mess of injured and dead bodies it had left in its wake.

Merlin then collapses against the battlements, feeling tired and exhausted as he gasps for air. Leon is beside him in an instant, helping sit the warlock down as he catches his breath.

"I thought Arthur told you to be careful," he chides.

The servant gives a weak chuckle, "I never listen to his orders."

Leon heaves a sigh, trying to look exasperated, but fails due to the smile on his face. "You know I'll be the one in trouble if anything happens to you."

"Then its a good thing nothing will happen to me." Merlin grins then gets to his feet. He almost falls right back down on the ground before Leon's able to steady him and he can almost feel the pointed stare directed his way by the knight. Merlin flashes another smile in thanks then leans over the battlements to get a better look at the fight below.

From what he can see, Arthur is winning. Agravaine's army is being pushed back rather easily as they now no longer hold any strength in numbers. Though they seem to refuse to admit defeat, it won't be long now before the army is overtaken by Arthur and his knights.

Merlin smiles, happy to see the battle is almost over. He gives himself a few minutes for more of his strength to recover before lifting his hand again in the direction of the battlefield. He won't be able to create another spectacle such as the last one so soon, but the least he can do is help even if it is only a little.

He keeps his eyes trained on Arthur as the man fights, using his magic to dispose of any of Agravaine's men that get too close. He's throwing one of the Saxons coming up behind Arthur against a wall when he notices the king turn in his direction, seeming to notice the extra aid. He swears he can see Arthur give him a quick nod in gratitude before turning back to the battle. 

Merlin drops his hand, a wide smile on his face as he watches some of the men begin to flee. Cheers start to rise up from the archers beside him. They all hoist their crossbows in the air, yelling taunts after the fleeing soldiers as they watch their brethren chase the Saxons away. Even Leon is watching with a smirk as the enemy soldiers vacate the lower town, happy to see the battle is coming to a close.

The warlock braces his arms on the stone, looking down in eagerness as the last remaining Saxons dwindle away. He's almost ready to head down to congratulate Arthur on his win when a wave of new figures emerge from beyond the city gates. Merlin squints his eyes, leaning forward on the battlements to try and get a clearer view, but he's still too far away to see much. At first, he assumes that Agravaine had simply sent in a fresh wave of soldiers, but the sudden retreat from the king and his men makes him reconsider. What could have forced them back so easily? The new enemies seemed to be the same as the old ones. The only difference being that they seemed to be fewer in number.

Merlin turns to look at Leon, finding the knight to be in a similar state of confusion. The man is squinting out into the distance as well, trying to figure out what could have gone wrong. The archers that line the battlements start to take aim again, their expressions puzzled as they rain arrows down upon their foes.

"What do you think happened?" Leon asks as he leans over the wall beside the warlock.

"I don't know," Merlin replies, hoping that whatever it may be Arthur will be able to handle it.

-----

The king lets out a breath, a smile starting to form on his face as he watches the Saxons bolt towards the exit. He can already hear the cheers start to rise up from the knights behind him as the men disappear into the trees and he can't help but join them with his sword raised in the air with pride.

He didn't expect the battle to conclude so quickly, but then again he's never had an all powerful warlock helping him from the sidelines. At the thought of his idiot servant he glances up to the battlements again, wanting nothing more than to dash up to the boy and kiss him senseless. But, with a quick glance around him, he knows he'll have to wait. There are still injuries to treat and fires to put out. He needs to put the safety of his men and kingdom first. 

He turns to face his army, a smile on his face as he recognizes many familiar faces all seeming to be in good health. There's Gwaine for example, who still looks to be able to drink an entire tavern dry even after the fight. Or Elyan, who seems to be able to make another dozen swords at his father's workshop if he wanted. 

Yet, despite seeing all his friend's faces he can't seem to let his guard down. He should be overflowing with happiness at the easy win, but something still nags at him in the deepest recesses of his mind, a question that can't seem to go away. Where was Morgana?

She was always a fearsome presence during such battles whether she be leading the charge or standing a short distance away and casting spells. Yet, this time she was no where to be found. There wasn't a single spell cast against his army and Agravaine had been the one leading the attack. Had she been so confident of her win that she believed his uncle could have taken Camelot all on his own? Did she underestimate his abilities? Or is she planning something else, something much more devastating that they have yet to see?

His thoughts are interrupted by a terrified shout coming from a few of his men. He looks up to find his army staring at something behind him, most of them frozen in horror at the spectacle. Arthur tightens his grip on his sword, bracing himself for the worst before turning. He almost drops his weapon when his eyes meet the hollowed sockets of the armed soldiers in front of him and he's barely able to keep his composure as the creatures take a step forward. 

He narrows his eyes, shifting in his spot as he readies himself. He makes sure to keep his expression neutral, not wanting to let the enemy know they terrify him while he glares daggers at Agravaine who stands leisurely behind his new army. The king barks out an order to his knights, warning them to prepare for battle as more of the skeletons appear from the darkness, all with equally mad grins on their skulls.

Just as he lifts up his weapon the first skeleton charges forward. Arthur's taken aback at the skeletons agility, but is able to quickly regain his composure. He slashes at the creatures neck, easily severing the skull from the rest of its body. The head clatters to the ground and starts to roll away and yet, despite this, the rest of the creatures bones remain standing. The skeleton seems uncaring at the loss of its head as it simply bends down, picking up its lost cranium and screws it back in place. When the creature finally manages to turn its skull to face the correct direction Arthur swears he can see the thing frown at him before it lifts its sword. 

Thankfully, he manages to duck out of the weapons range, but no matter where he hits the skeleton doesn't go down. Whether it be cutting it in half or chopping off its arms the soldier continues to stitch itself back together, continuing on as though nothing had happened. Arthur curses under his breath as he attempts to fight back the new foes, getting angrier with each knight that falls around him. 

Arrows seem to have no effect on the skeletons either. Many walk about with arrows stuck through their skulls or broken shafts lodged in their ribcages and yet they're still able to move forward, never relenting from their attack. They're even able to survive the cascade of fire, which is undoubtedly made by Merlin, that rains down upon them as though it were nothing at all. 

Eventually, after another few hopeless minutes of battle the king has no choice but to call a retreat. He waves his soldiers forward, ushering them through the gates to the citadel before shutting the doors and separating the living from the dead. 

He lets out a tired breath, turning to look at the weary faces of his knights. He's glad to see that quite a few made it out alive, but not as many as he would have hoped. Even if they returned in one piece there are many that are injured. Some have blood dripping down their arms or are sporting cuts and bruises all over. He himself has a couple scratches, but nothing as severe as some of his comrades and so when Gaius rushes over to check on him first he quickly brushes the physician aside. 

Arthur sighs, rubbing at his eyes as he allows his men time to rest. What can he do? How is he to stop an army of the undead when nothing can kill them, not even magic? He looks at the sight around him, not able to hide the painful tug in his chest as he watches more of his knights, his friends, get taken into the infirmary, all groaning in pain as they start to succumb to their wounds. What can he do to protect his people?

The king sighs again as he slumps down on the steps, eyes unfocused as he tries to come up with a plan. Should he surrender and hope that Morgana has enough of a heart to spare his people? No, she would never do such a thing. Knowing her, she would kill them all simply to spite him. He concentrates harder, gathering up all the experience he's ever had in battle to try and come up with a plan, but all his mind is able to do is draw up a blank. 

The sound of rushing footsteps draws Arthur out of his thinking. He looks to the source of the noise only to find Merlin dashing through the halls, a sword bundled in his arms while weaving in and out of the passing servants in a hurry. There's an urgent air surrounding the boy as he rushes down the hall that makes Arthur's worry spike tenfold. He gets to his feet, running after the boy and shouting, "Merlin! Where are you going?"

The warlock skids to a halt, almost colliding with another servant as he turns to face the king. A relieved smile seems to cross his face for a brief moment before its replaced by the same sense of urgency as before. He's already starting to run when he shouts his reply, "There's something I need to do. Just- just wait for me!" 

And with that Merlin is gone, having turned the corner and disappeared. All Arthur can do is stare in confusion as he tries to piece together his servant's words. What in the world is Merlin up to now?