"My word," said Arthur in a hushed whisper. He and Merlin stood at the base of the Pit, Merlin holding the lantern high so Arthur could inspect the area. The eastern chamber had been emptied, the treasure bagged and lifted up the shaft, and now the men above were taking a brief rest in the sun as Arthur and Merlin looked at the remaining treasure in the western chamber.

"How long until all the treasure is out?"

"Another two days I think Arthur, we almost made it in time," replied Merlin bitterly.

"Don't worry Merlin, even if the treasure had been lifted, the Saxons could have still attacked us on the road back to Camelot. No, no running. We must stand and fight here, and we must beat them into submission. It's time Hengist was sent scuttling back to his chalk cliffs with his tail between his legs. This fight is long overdue."

Arthur changed the subject. "What lies in the other chambers?"

"Why don't we find out?" Merlin smiled at Arthur. "Just the south one though, that feels right, the north chamber will have to wait. I don't want to disturb anything that shouldn't be disturbed."

"Sometimes I think you know too much Merlin, it worries me you have all that information swirling around in your head," said Arthur. "What else do you know about this mound?"

"I will be buried here."

Arthur looked at him sharply. "What?"

"I will be buried here. I know not when, but I know this. One day I will lie in that eastern chamber, and one day another magician will join me in the west. I have no idea who the other magician is, or indeed when he or she will arrive. But, one day it will happen."

"And this gives you pleasure?" asked Arthur noting the smile on the old man's face.

"It gives me peace Arthur. After all these years, it gives me peace. Knowing one day I will lie buried here in this magnificent place calms my restless soul. I have travelled all over the known world and learned wondrous things, but to know I will rest here is a joyful thing."

Arthur moved forwards and embraced the old man. "I am happy you find joy in this Merlin, but I am in no rush to see you at rest."

"And I am in no hurry to lie down just yet Arthur, never fear." Merlin gathered himself and assumed his normal businesslike demeanour. "Right, let's get this wall down and see what surprises await us."

Arthur made short work of the simple infill wall standing between the ornately carved southern pillars, and the two of them peered into the gloom. A massive block of roughly squared off black stone stood in the centre of the room, the mummified corpse of a warrior laid in state on the bier. Spears lay either side of him, and decorative leather armour sagged on the desiccated skeleton.

"Who was he?" asked Arthur in a hushed tone.

"I'd say from the dragon banner that this is the lost King of the Summer County. Somerset has long mourned his loss and that of the Dragon Mace and standard. I suspect we may have found one of the Dragon Blessed."

"The what?" whispered Arthur.

"The last of the Dragon kin is said to have been slain several hundred years ago. The hoard it slept upon and protected was granted to the king of the Summer County, although many pieces of it went missing. Part of that hoard was a group of weapons. Excalibur is one, the Dragon Mace is another. I can feel it, Arthur, there is a weapon of power here, and we are the ones destined to find it, although we are not destined to wield it. That honour belongs to another of us I think.

"You must move the body."

"Merlin, no," said Arthur in horror, "I cannot move a dead warrior, he will rise up and haunt me for eternity for such a foul act."

"Not if I am here he won't. Do you trust me, my King?"

"I do."

"Then do this for me, please."

His jaw clamped shut in distaste, Arthur edged into the chamber and lifted the body carefully off the plinth to the floor. The decaying leather armour and clothing creaked alarmingly as he did so, threatening to break the mummified corpse into pieces. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief when he had lain the body on the floor, and carefully moved the spears to join the body.

"Forgive me," he muttered and straightened up to look at the plinth. Merlin had joined him in the chamber and stood over the stone, looking at its shadowed surface.

"It's not solid Arthur, it has a lid."

Arthur looked along the side of the block and noticed a faint line. The block was far more highly crafted than he'd first thought, carved to resemble a roughly hewn plinth, but being in actuality so much more. They both heaved at the top and it grated complainingly as they moved it, dust swirling into the air around them.

"There," said Merlin excitedly. "You must raise the weapon Arthur, it is for a king to lift."

Arthur reached into the shadowed hollow of the bier and lifted out a heavy cloth-covered package, his eyes shining in dark excitement.

"Well done Arthur, come on, let's share the news."

"There is something I must do first Merlin," he said softly. He passed the package to the old man and replaced the lid, gently lifting the long-dead warrior back onto the slab, carefully rearranging the limbs and spears to their original position.

"Rest in peace," he murmured quietly, and Merlin nodded approvingly.

~

They were back in the command tent once more. Arthur had summonsed Mark, David, Gawain, Grayle, and Percival, and he and Merlin stood waiting as they filed into the tent. Arthur stood calm and contained, Merlin with a mysterious smile on his face.

The men stood facing Arthur, their eyes straying repeatedly to the darkly wrapped parcel in front of Merlin.

"Merlin and I have been into the mound," Arthur said without preamble.

"Another room?" asked Grayle, he looked directly at Merlin, eyes alight with anticipation.

"Yes lad," replied Arthur, "the southern chamber. We have retrieved what we believe to be the Dragon Mace of the Summer Country. I will let Merlin elaborate."

As Merlin briefed the men on the old legend, Arthur carefully unwrapped the bindings of the package, exposing several carefully wrapped layers, the inner ones heavily oiled to protect what lay inside.

Merlin finished as Arthur pulled off the last of the oily flax layers, placing a solid-looking mace on the table, the shaft and head embellished by ornate Celtic carvings and sigils. It was beautifully made, and all in the room drew in a breath.

"King Mark, would you please lift your weapon," said Arthur firmly.

"My King?" said Mark incredulously.

"It is yours to wield, my brother. Excalibur is my weapon, but only a king may wield a Dragon Blessed weapon."

"Then I abdicate my throne," said Mark hotly. "I am not worthy of this, I am not a warrior anymore." He waved his stump at Arthur.

"I do not accept that brother," said Arthur calmly. "Percival can barely stand, let alone fight, Gawain has been given a task that suits his skills and training as a knight, but both he and Grayle, although competent, are not yet ready to lead this many men. Despite your wounds, and the loss of your hand and eye, you are still a king, still a leader of men, and still a warrior. Although battered, you are still standing, and still powerful. Your men need you, and your family need you."

He paused and lay a hand on Mark's shoulder. "I need you."

Arthur smiled at Mark and placed the mace on the table in front of him. "Stand in front of your enemies and show them your defiance. Strike fear into their hearts by your refusal to be cowed. I will lead from the front, but I need you to direct the battle. This weapon has come to you, use it well."

Arthur and Merlin left the tent, and Gawain followed with David to leave Mark and his family standing alone. Mark stood, tears gathering in his eyes as he looked at the mace. Grayle broke the spell first, kneeling in front of his grandfather. "My liege, I am at your command."

Percival smiled but, unable to kneel, moved alongside his son, placing his hand on Grayle's shoulder. "As am I, my King."

"Traitors," muttered Mark. "Oh get up boy; you've made your point." He held out his good hand, and hauled Grayle to his feet, pulling him into a hug. He leaned over and grabbed the handle of the mace, giving it an experimental swing.

"Haven't used one of these things for a while, but I can't use a two-handed sword anymore now. You're going to have to strap a shield on me though."

"I'm sure it can be arranged, father. Grayle has a spare white trainee knight one somewhere," Percival said with a broad smile.

"Trainee! I'll give you trainee, you beggar," he said waving the mace in warning as Grayle laughed at the irate king.

A sudden commotion outside interrupted them and a guard poked his head into the tent.

"My King!" he said excitedly. "The rest of the Camelot party has arrived."

Mark, Percival, and Grayle hurried outside to watch the soldiers come into the camp. In the midst of one group of soldiers, two riders stood out as they were dressed almost identically in riding garb, their hair tied back in plaits. Iseult turned to face Grayle, her smile of welcome fading in the reflected look of horror on his face as she looked at him. Ignoring all protocol, he walked up to Guinevere, anger plain on his face.

"How could you bring her here, of all the places?" he spat, emotion snapping the syllables into bitter chunks. "She should be safe in Camelot, not dressed for war. It is not safe, it is not right... "

"It is not your decision," interrupted Guinevere abruptly. "You have no right to question me nephew, she is my lady-in-waiting and is expected to go where I go, wherever that may be if I so require. Now, I suggest you moderate your tone and get your emotions under control. This is not the right place to discuss this, but we will be discussing this further in private, do I make myself clear?"

Iseult, sat, looking shocked in equal turns by Grayle's outburst, and the sudden authority in the queen's voice.

Grayle looked at Iseult directly. "You should not be here. I do not want you here."

"Grayle, go to your tent." Percival's hand came to rest on his shoulder but was struck away almost instantly by his still furious son who turned to face him, anger still clear on his face.

"You will listen to your queen, and do as you are told," Percival said softly, staring the younger man down. "Now."

Grayle stalked away, not bothering to cast a look back at the small group behind him, while Iseult sat looking upset next to the queen.

Percival bowed deeply to the two ladies. "I am sorry for my son's behaviour, my Queen, my lady Iseult. I'm not quite sure what has got into him."

"Oh, I think I know what's wrong, Sir Percival. A little matter of the heart I would say," said Guinevere quietly, leaning down from her horse to touch his shoulder.

"It appears much has happened," she said, looking at his battered visage and bandaged arm, and then over at Mark.

"Aye, my Queen, but it is good to see you all arrive safely. Let us get you into the command tent and you can join King Arthur and catch up on events."