Chapter 12: The First Battle

Merlin watched from a hill as Uther's army and that of the Saxons collided. He had seen this day coming more than four years ago. He had hoped he would be wrong, but he hadn't. His dream had become a reality.

After Merlin, Bernie, and Uther arrived at Caernarfon Castle, Uther had been informed that the Saxons were about to attack near Amesbury, England, and that troops had already been sent to guard the area. Not one to wait for results, Uther immediately started towards Amesbury, hoping he could get there in time. Merlin had accompanied him, and Bernie would have too if he hadn't forgotten his weapons and armor.

Any moment now, Merlin knew that two dragons would loom over the horizon, and fight each other, deciding the fate of the battle. As Merlin looked to the east and then the west, he saw only one dragon coming: the white dragon. The dragon of the Saxons. And the red dragon, the Celtic dragon, was nowhere in sight.


Why hasn't the red dragon come? thought Merlin to himself, the red dragon has to come.


Five minutes passed, and still no sign of the Celtic dragon. Gazing off into the sunset, Merlin knew what was to happen.

Merlin cleared his thoughts, until only the image of the red dragon remained. Slowly, Merlin felt scales crawl onto his skin, and felt a strange warmth in his throat. He felt his teeth lengthen to become fangs, he hair recede back into his scalp. He had become the Celtic dragon.

Testing his wings, Merlin rose from the hill he stood upon, flying to meet the Saxon dragon. Flying was like nothing Merlin had ever imagined; it felt as if he were free for the first time in his life. His instincts told him which way to move to go where. Although this would not be the last time he flew in the shape of a dragon, Merlin never forget his majestic first flight.

People of both the Saxon and British armies looked up in awe at the shape-shifted Merlin. Once the armies realized that the red dragon flying above them was going to fight for the British, the Saxons redoubled their efforts, no longer successfully penetrating the British forces. The Britons' hope had been renewed at the sight of the Celtic dragon who was Merlin. No longer fearing the Saxons, the Britons charged with all their might in a devastating, head-long assault on the Saxon front line, which was quickly broken.


Although the battle below was being won, there was still another, more challenging one coming, one Merlin, and only Merlin could accomplish. The death of the white dragon.


Merlin and the Saxon dragon clashed in an array of sparks flying off each of their claws. The white dragon lunged for Merlin's throat, which Merlin successfully blocked by twisting his head so the spines along his back met the teeth of of the white dragon. Not discouraged, the white dragon did a barrel roll to Merlin's right, twisting so he would come under Merlin and be able to overpower him. Merlin countered this move by diving towards the battle below. Frantically, the soldiers below ran from the place where Merlin would collide with the Earth. The Saxon dragon wasn't going to let his prey get away so easily. He too turned and dived towards the ground.


Knowing that if he didn't act now, Merlin would become crater two miles from Amesbury, Merlin quickly pulled up in his flight, parallelling himself to the ground five feet below him. The Saxon dragon, who was bigger and not as agile, took a serious blow to the head, but nothing fatal. Blood gushing out of his wounds, the Saxon dragon once again lunged for Merlin, this time fueled by an unforgiving rage. Merlin, not expecting the attack, was able to keep the white dragon from severing his head from his body, but not able to keep the dragon from leaving a deep gash all the way down Merlin's side. Howling in pain, the white dragon opened his mouth, releasing a torrent of fire. In agonizing pain Merlin made a last attempt to go for the white dragon's throat. The dragon, laughter in its eyes, avoided the assault effortlessly, and pinned Merlin to the ground.


He was helpless. Merlin was helpless. Not only had the first part of hs dream become a reality, but now he was going to die the death he had seen the Celtic dragon experience in his dreams. It was over. Only eleven years old and already dead.


Just a all hope seemed lost, Merlin suddenly saw something in his mind's eye. He saw Nimue. He suddenly knew that this dragon wouldn't stop with him. It would keep going, killing everything in its path, in much the same way as a hurricane. Including Nimue.


Fueled by anger, Merlin realeased a wind of fire, forcing the Saxon dragon off of him. Merlin didn't hestitate to take advantage of the oppurtuniy before him. Merlin jumped on the white dragon and sunk his fangs into the dragon's flesh. The white dragon had been killed and the Britons had won the battle.


Shape-shifting back to his normal self, Merlin saw Uther rushing towards him, apparently worried.


"Are yeh alright?" asked Uther, looking over Merlin.


"Yes."


"What were yeh thinking attacking that bloody beast!" exclaimed Uther, skipping to the next topic he wanted to discuss.


"I wasn't killed, was I? And it won us the battle, diddn't it?"


"Well, yes, but yeh should-"


"I'm still alive Uther," interrupted Merlin, "And that's all that really matters."

"Well we should get you to the medical tent. You still; have that gash that the dragon gave you."

Following Uther's gaze, Merlin saw that the right side of his shirt was soaked with blood.

"Indeed. But there's one more thing I need to do." replied Merlin

Turning towards the battlefield, Merlin said "Hasha Vajar!" Slowly, stones began to rise from the ground, each pair topped by a stone running lenght-wise. When the spell was finished, Merlin was looking at a circle of stones, two standing upright and one on top of the two. This pattern was the same all the way around.

"This will serve as a monument to the blood shed here today. It shall be called Stonehenge." said Merlin, walking towards the medical tent.