Cornwall

3,035 years since initial death
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Merlin's Cave.

Over twenty years have passed since he used to live here. Posing as an anti-social hermit who was 'different' from the Brits, this was where he belonged.

His experiments and potions had frightened a number of Tintagel's residents long ago. There was once a time when a girl had spotted the dead body of a man resurrect inside of the cave as his corpse hovered in the air and glowed with sinister power.

Her report was passed off as her imagination running wild. But when more witnesses ran from the cave, they had reported seeing colorful explosions, smoke and gasses leak from inside. Every time Merlin was spotted outside his cave, he had always appeared grumpy, holding a random assortment of supplies.

It was the origin of his wizardry.

Even now, as Merlin stood in front of his old cave, he knew exactly why so many people had feared it. But it wasn't just the cave they feared.

They feared him most of all.

Good.

Walking inside his former home, he noticed the ruins. The fallen over chairs, rusty weapons, withered flowers, foggy flasks and cracked furniture. Cobwebs were scattered across the walls of rock, ore and stone. Even the floor was wet due to the high tides during this time of year.

Behind Merlin was a wheelbarrow he had dragged from Tintagel Castle. It was time to move his base of operations back to Cadbury. What's the point of a wizard if he has nothing to use to his advantage. A sword won't be enough to stop the Saxons, even if he can return to continue the fight.

Sacks left untouched were hauled to the wheelbarrow. Flasks, glass and bowls were secured carefully. Memories were contained and saved. A legacy was resurrected.

For hours on end, the people of Tintagel witnessed the work of a man they deemed mysterious. A few of them had recognized him, watching him walk back and forth from the cave. News and rumors were spreading already, bringing forth another crowd that joined the others.

Sketches and carvings on the cave walls were recorded on parchments that Merlin had brought with him. They were for formulas and ingredients used in certain substances. The potions that strengthened, sickened, poisoned and swayed him for years on end in his immortal youth.

From the walls of the castle, the people were mesmerized. A few had dared to venture down to the rocky shore and watch. They watched him as they did years ago, seeing him wear the same grey cloak.

More sacks were stacked, some containing books and parchments from the past. Old Latin texts from ancient men that Merlin had met himself or heard of.

Children ran along the shore, standing by the crabs that stepped onto the rocks. Their parents tried to keep them back from the strange man that so many of them had assumed was long dead. A few people stood behind the massive boulders that were scattered over the shore. So many jagged rocks and boulders were laid here beneath the cliff of Tintagel.

Merlin was fully aware of the spectators. He paid them no attention, continuing his work as he pulled his cargo to the center of the shore. He had a second wheelbarrow that he began to fill with more items.

When his second wheelbarrow was full, he dragged it behind to the other one. That was when he stopped. Removing the hood from his head, he exposed his true appearance. His beard has grown long, and his dark hair was uncombed.

Merlin looked around him, observing the hundred or so people that surrounded him. No one made a sound. Only the crashing of ocean waves broke the silence. Finally, he decided to speak. His dialogue was incredibly simple and straightforward.

"Hello there."

No one responded. Rather, they stood by and watched as he resumed his work.

He tried to pull one wheelbarrow across the shore, reaching a wooden level he had secured. It allowed him to drag his supplies over a smooth board rather than struggle with the jagged edges of rocks. Passing by a slight shower from a small waterfall, he continued down his path. It led him to the lowest point of land where three horses waited for his arrival.

Turning around, Merlin walked back for the second wheelbarrow. But once he reached the waterfall, he stopped in his track.

The people of Tintagel worked together to pull his wheelbarrow towards him. Crowds of citizens followed behind as his belongings were taken across the wooden ramp. Merlin stood completely still by the waterfall. Now, he was the one watching.

They arrived, keeping his wheelbarrow alongside the horses. Merlin slowly walked through the crowds as they all stared back. Once his feet touched grass again, he approached his horses. Attaching sacks of items to his mounts, a few people helped him with the rest.

All three horses were now carrying all of his belongings, with only one horse having enough space for its master to sit.

Once Merlin had mounted his horse, he held onto the two other leads for the other horses to follow him. But before he could leave, he had to face the citizens of Tintagel once more.

"Thank you." He formed a soft smile before lowering his hood. "Farewell, Tintagel."

Departing slowly, hundreds watched the old wizard ride towards the fields of green. Many of them waved their hands, bidding goodbye to the most peculiar resident that Tintagel had ever seen. He rode away from the Atlantic shores, away from the castle, and away from his home.

114 miles of greenery and nature. He made the journey alone, slowly and steady. It was on the dawn of his third day traveling that he spotted the massive hillfort that laid in the east of Somerset.

His arrival was seen by Arthur, stepping down from the walls to accompany his friend towards his hut. Merlin was in too much of a rush to sit down and converse with him. The only thing he said to Arthur was a list of materials he desperately needed. Copper seemed to be the most important element on his mind.

"Merlin, I don't understand what all of this is for." Arthur begged repeatedly for an explanation, to which he was continuously denied. "The amount of asphalt and sulphur you require is absurd! And what in Christ's name is a thunder stone?"

"Rostrum." Merlin was quick to reply, organizing his supplies atop a desk. "A fossilized beak of any sort. It's highly urgent."

The following week was spent gathering the necessary ingredients for Merlin's secret substance. He ordered them in the pounds, leaving sacks of materials outside his hut as he worked from morning till night.

He was in a race against the Saxon Empire. While an entire nation marched across Britain, conquering everything in its path; Merlin was mixing powder in a bowl.

Sulphur. Rock salt. Ash. Thunder stone. Pyrite. Black mulberry resin. Asphalt.

Add quicklime. Pound the mixture carefully. Merlin covered his face, slowly pounding the thick, liquid substance that had formed a dark-grey, sooty color.

With the liquid formed in the dark corner of his hut, he was able to pour it in a copper container. Once the copper box was sealed, it was set aside. But one box wasn't enough. There was so much more liquid and ingredients still available. He'll need to use all of them.

Two boxes. Three boxes. Four boxes. Five boxes.

Fifty liters of this liquid was enough, each box containing five liters of the thick, dark-grey substance. With ten containers all packed and ready to go, all he had to do now was wait.

A nearby carriage was kept stationed by his hut, with two horses being fed healthy portions to keep them active. Some of the copper boxes were kept inside his shelter, while the others were left scattered outside the hillfort. To ensure their usage, Merlin specifically kept each box underneath a shade away from the sun's light by shrouding them with tent sheets.

Every knight in Cadbury wondered what Merlin had made, but as always, he refused to answer. After his work was finished, he spent the rest of his time keeping watch outside the castle walls.

Every morning brought forth a new scouting expedition. Surveying the land for any Saxon activity was vital. He must know when their arrival is imminent, otherwise his plan will backfire.

Arthur was there to aid in his search one night. When the sun had set and the moon rose to the sky, they hid in the darkness and kept their eyes peeled. The towns of Horsington and Stowell had already fallen, just east of Cadbury. The Saxons were close-by.

"Merlin, I must know what you plan on doing." As much as it annoyed the Immortal, Arthur tried one more time to get some information out of his closest ally. They were both seated beside a tree, looking out onto the distant dark hills. "You've kept us in the dark and disobeyed orders. All for some dark matter or tar?"

"There are stories you could never believe, even if I swore to you that my words are truthful." Merlin's answer wasn't what he was expecting. "I've traveled down a terribly long path that has turned me into a man I cannot recognize."

For a brief moment, Arthur looked away and kept his frown. Merlin sensed his ally understood him, and he continued to speak. "I crafted a weapon of unimaginable destruction. Unseen by most nations and only ever used on very few occasions by the early Romans. Arthur, it is simply horrible."

"We are at war, Merlin. Armies will make use of any element if it favors them, no matter how gruesome their methods may be. You're older and wiser than I, you should know."

"Aye." Merlin nodded his head, staring into the void. Many thoughts rushed through his mind, further affecting his mood. "There is a side within my heart that longs for peace and a civilized life. However, a second side lurks within my head that speaks the language of war. Sometimes I agree with it, other times I do not. But one truth is certain, and that is I'm afraid one day only one side will conquer both my mind and heart, and I pray it isn't my wrath that prevails."

Arthur looked back, appearing quite distant. "The difference that divides men from barbarians is guilt. I do not show it, for it is not a trait common amongst us, yet even I question when the carnage may end. I was raised not to feel for my adversary, and I gain satisfaction from claiming Saxon blood. But when wars grow quiet and I'm given a moment of solitary, I remember each and every life I have taken away."

"You've felt it, then." Only a frown was given in return from the Immortal. "For so long, I've held back my strength. Always afraid to take a single life away, always afraid that I'd become some sort of monster as a result. Yet I do it because I must. But not anymore. I have been reminded that I carry an immortal sin that shall remain inside me for as long as I live. Just for today, I'm ready to embrace who I truly am; even if I despise everything about it."

Turning his head to face his close friend, Merlin glared directly into Arthur's eyes with a sinister expression. "When you see what I've created, you'll swear I am the devil."

Silence plagued the scene, causing a sense of awkwardness between the two. But when they continued looking over the hills, they soon widened their eyes.

Just beyond the far hill, a catapult was moved forward by a dozen men on the ground. They were Saxons. Then a second and third catapult appeared. They showed no signs of stopping or slowing down. If they continued down this path for just another hour, they would arrive at Cadbury Castle.

Before Arthur could even say a word, Merlin had already stood up and ran. He fled from the scene as fast as he could, reaching his horse and immediately mounting it. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

The trip back to Cadbury was quick as Merlin made absolute haste. Arthur tried his best to catch up with him. They had both arrived at the hillfort, but Merlin had no intention of spreading the news. Instead, he ran for his hut.

It was up to Arthur to gallop through the fort, screaming loudly for everyone to hear him. "The Saxons march for the hillfort! Arise and take defensive positions!"

The swaying bells rung, and the blaring horns sounded. Cadbury Castle was under full lockdown during the night.

Meanwhile, Merlin had rushed outside his hut, pushing a few copper boxes out into the open. His carriage was stacked with the crates, and the horses neighed once he approached them. Ignoring all the warnings from his allies, he rode swiftly outside the castle.

Opening one box, he began to pour the liquid around the hillfort while still in motion. One box was enough to cover a large distance, especially considering how much of this substance he had made. More of the dark liquid was poured at the front gates. It was smeared all over the ground, covering the entire area. Even the boxes he kept hidden in cover were used, the tent sheets retrieved and carried along once the tar was spilled.

The Saxons continued their steady approach, now appearing in the dark horizon. Merlin had to hurry, pouring more of the liquid over the outer layers of the hill. The Saxons would attempt to enter from the east and south. That gave him an idea of where to smear more of the substance.

Dawn was almost upon them. Less than an hour remained, and the Saxons were in position. Merlin had returned to the castle, throwing away the empty copper boxes as he exchanged them for a trusty sword.

Arthur ran to the walls, accompanied by a dozen archers. "Archers in position! Keep ready for my signal, we'll see what these bastards will attempt first!"

A whole company of knights appeared ready by the front gate. Arthur was prepared to give them a speech, but Merlin decided to enter the scene. Running to the top of the gates, he looked out at the fields ahead before turning back to face his allied army.

They were all waiting for him to announce his plan. His ultimate secret weapon. But what could he say? This was the moment everyone was waiting for, and he felt nervous. He had to choose his words carefully.

"My brothers in arms," he started, speaking loud enough to ensure his voice is heard by all. There was a pause as he stared at hundreds of eyes watching him in anticipation. For a moment he forgot to say, choosing to take a deep breath as he started over.

"Brothers, you deem me a wizard of legendary proportions. Whether they be jests or doubts, some here expect me to manipulate the very fabric of our reality to aid us in our fight ahead."

He looked away momentarily, witnessing the strength of the Saxons. Multiple catapults were hauled in position, driving directly over his substance as it stained their wheels and left a trail behind. Battalions marched towards the front gate, waiting for the right moment to charge. The darkness of the night hid the very trap they walked over.

A part of him wanted to smile, knowing his plan was working. But the other part of him, his former self; he was drowning in fear and regret. "I stand beside all of you, and I promise my life in favor of yours. Every single one of you have given me a home, a friend and a reason to carry onwards. To say I'm grateful would be putting it far too lightly."

Hundreds of Saxons were ready to begin the siege. Every catapult was loaded with boulders capable of ripping through bricks as if they were made of dirt.

He lowered his head, setting his emotions aside as he realized what had happened. His mind and heart had united, and he finally breathed easy again. With only one side of him in full control now, he knew how to speak his final words before the battle.

"Today, you shall all bear witness to my power. When the breakage of dawn occurs and the darkness turns into light, then know that our victory is assured. These Saxons will learn of our strength, and they will soon understand what we are capable of. So ready thy blade and look towards the stars! Fight to see the rising sun and live to tell the tale of how Cadbury was saved by its own court wizard, its fair king and its band of proud, worthy knights!"

At long last, the battle started.

"For that is my secret weapon. The sun itself."

The first arrow was fired.

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Historical Notes:

Merlin's Cave is 100 meters long, stretching from the east to the west of Tintagel Island from Tintagel Haven (Castle Cove). It's a sea cave along volcanic rocks and slates

Legends claim King Arthur was washed ashore as an infant and was rescued by Merlin, who took him to the cave. It was written in Idylls of the King, an epic poem written in 1859 by English poet, Alfred Tennyson.

Due to modern excavations, it is believed that the citizens of Tintagel Castle were of the upper class. They had access to imported wine and food vessels from Eastern Mediterranean countries and Northern Africa.

The Roman author, Julius Africanus, wrote the only existing report on Merlin's substance in the 3rd century AD. The material was used in grenades and night attacks by the Roman Empire.

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