'You like my toys?' crowed Modred. 'They're presents, Arthur. A legacy if you will. The last artifacts from Morgan Le Fey. She passed them on to me so that I could lay you low for all time.'
His own armor was beginning to feel heavy on him as Arthur grated, 'Come on. Are you planning on talking me to death or are you going to fight?' Fiercely, summoning all the power at his command, Arthur attacked.
Meanwhile Merlin made it to the reviewing stand, climbing in next to Gwen, who was wringing her hands. Percy was standing there, watching the proceedings as well. 'Gwen,'
demanded Merlin, 'what in hell is going on? How could you let Arthur get himself mixed up in some stupid fight?'
'How do you propose I stop him?' asked Gwen reasonably. 'You think I want him out there?
When Arthur gets an idea in his head, nothing can dissuade him.'
'Tell me about it,' said Merlin mournfully. 'Still, I don't like this one bit. ...' His voice trailed off, and Gwen turned to him in alarm. 'Merlin, what's wrong?'
'There's magic in this box. I can sense it. Hell, it's Morgan, I can smell it.' He turned slowly and faced Percy. Quickly he leaped up onto the seat of Arthur's chair, putting himself on eye level with Percy. Gwen looked on in surprise as Merlin grabbed Percy by the face and peered deeply into his eye. 'Good God, no! He's been hypnotized.'
The sudden clanging on the field alerted Merlin. He turned and watched in horror as the battle was truly joined.
Arthur was fully on the offensive now. He drove down hard on Modred, Excalibur pounding on Modred's shield again and again. Wunk! Wunk! Wunk! Huge chunks of the shield flew as Modred was not even able to mount a defense to slow Arthur for a moment. Back, back down the field Arthur sent Modred. And then he drew back Excalibur for another blow, brought down the sword, and totally misjudged the distance. Modred dodged and Arthur swung at empty air. The miss sent him off balance and he stumbled and almost fell. Only his warrior's reflexes saved him from tripping and hitting the ground, but by the time he recovered Modred was upon him. Modred swung hard and Arthur took the brunt of the blow on his shield. He felt the impact far more than he should have, the blow sending vibrations of pain along his left arm. Surprised, he wheeled back, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He was sweating so heavily it was pouring into his eyes. His vision was starting to fuzz over and he felt a ringing in his ears. He couldn't understand it. Lord knew the armor was heavy, but certainly he wasn't this out of shape.
Modred attacked and they alternated now. Modred slammed at Arthur's shield, Arthur hacked at Modred's. And this time, step by step as they exchanged blow after blow, it was Arthur who was beginning to retreat. The crowd shouted encouragement, roared its approval for Arthur's bravery and catcalled their disapproval for Modred. They were having the time of their lives, because after all, they knew the whole thing was rigged ahead of time and that Arthur would triumph.
It was knowledge that Merlin did not share. Staring into Percy's eyes, he spoke in low tones, then shook Percy's face once and said, 'Percy! Come out of it, man!'
Percy Vale blinked slowly, the fog lifting from his mind. His eyes widened. 'Modred! Where did he. . . ?' Then slow horror started to register on Percy's face. 'Oh, God. Don't tell me.'
He looked out on the field and saw the two combatants, heard the ringing of metal on metal and the thud of metal on wood. 'Tell me that Arthur didn't drink anything I gave him.'
Gwen wasn't sure what was wrong, but she saw true fear in Percy's eyes, and she said,
'Yes. You gave him some cider.'
'It was poison,' said Percy.
Gwen's mouth flew to her hands. 'Percy, how . . . how could you-'
'It's not his fault,' said Merlin quickly. 'He was hypnotized. It was against his will-hell, I suspect that Modred didn't even tell you that you were putting poison in. You only realize now that you're fully conscious what it must have been.' Merlin shook his head. 'This is all my fault. I was the one who was so concerned about history repeating itself, and here I set us up for it and didn't even think of it.'
'Merlin, what are you talking about?' asked Gwen.
Merlin chucked a thumb at Percy. 'The fates can have a sick sense of humor. I know, I've met them. Percy here is an accountant/'
'Yeah? So?'
'So ... in his final battle Arthur lost because he was poisoned by an adder.'
'Merlin, you can't be serious. You mean by a snake, right? Not by a person who adds.'
'What can I say? Obviously Morgan decided to implement a little poetic justice.'
'You mean Modred,' Percy said.
'No. Modred's personality has been supplanted, locked away somewhere deep within him.
Modred couldn't hypnotize you like that. Modred wouldn't be out there fighting like that. That cloud of hatred, that essence of Morgan that escaped me, has found a host in the body of Modred. Make no mistake, for things are not as they seem.' Merlin leaned forward. 'Arthur's battling Morgan Le Fey out there. And he's dying while he's doing it.'
Arthur's right arm was starting to feel heavy. Lifting Ex-calibur became more and more of a burden. His legs were like two lead weights. Each blow from Modred's sword felt stronger than the one before. And then Arthur stumbled, falling back on one knee. Modred came in fast, swinging hard, and his sword sheered Arthur's shield in two. Quickly Arthur dropped the crumbling remains of his shield, gripped Ex-calibur with both hands, and using it as a crutch, drew himself to his feet. He swung Excalibur back and around with all the force he could muster. Modred parried the blow with his sword and it glanced off and struck Modred's shield, which shattered. Modred tossed it aside, gripping his sword with two hands as well.
They stood there facing each other, a moment frozen from time.
Modred feinted to the left, then brought his sword swinging in low to the right. Arthur tried to block the blow and failed. Modred's sword bit deep into Arthur's ribs. Arthur moaned and went down to one knee, and Modred stepped back, his blade tinted red. Gasping, Arthur clutched at the wound, his face deathly white beneath his helmet.
Instead of pressing the attack, Modred stood there, admiring the damage. 'How does it feel, Arthur?' he crowed. 'How does it feel to take the pain instead of inflicting it for once?'
Gasping for breath, Arthur looked up. His voice was a harsh whisper as he said, 'Morgan?'
'My, we are the perceptive one. Gaze on the face of the one who hates you beyond death itself.' Modred yanked off his helmet, and it was Modred's face underneath, but the eyes, the expression, was that of Morgan Le Fey.
'And I wonder,' Modred continued, 'if you've figured this out. I wonder if you've realized that you've been poisoned.'
Arthur grunted, the blood in his veins turning to fire. 'Now that you mention it, I do feel a little off.'
'You're going to die, Arthur. The only question is whether it's going to be from the blade or from the blood.'
Modred gripped his sword firmly and swung at Arthur's head.
Arthur blocked it.
Modred was visibly surprised. 'I didn't think you had enough strength left in you for that.'
'You'll find I'm full of surprises,' said Arthur, a grim smile on his lips. And he rose. Slowly, agonizingly, he got to his feet, holding onto his sword. Holding on to his life, not allowing the release of either. His mouth curled back in a sneer. 'You're pathetic. You couldn't even beat me fairly, you had to try and poison me. Well it didn't work.'
'I-I saw you drink the poison,' stammered Modred.
'Perhaps you did,' Arthur said. 'And perhaps I switched the mugs.' And without giving Modred a chance to think, Arthur attacked.
Merlin watched in shock as Gwen said, 'Do something!'
'I don't know what,' said Merlin. 'And I couldn't anyway. This is Arthur's battle. He wouldn't forgive me if I interfered in something as personal as this.'
'Forgive you!' she shrieked. 'He's going to die!'
'You haven't known him for as long as I have,' said Merlin.
Arthur pressed the attack. He did not allow himself to feel the pain. He refused to acknowledge that his arms were dead weight, that Excalibur had become unwieldly. He refused to acknowledge that he was dying. He drove
