EXT. FOREST - NIGHT
Darkness. The sound of battle cries and the clang of metal
upon metal. The forest lights up with huge sparks flying
from sword and ax as armored knights hack and swing at each
other. Mounted knights collide head-on at full gallop, their
armor made incandescent in the clash. Sparks eddy in their
wakes and float to the ground. The forest catches fire.
MAIN TITLES on the flames. Out of the sounds of ancient battle
grows music, heroic and barbaric, shot through with
Two crazed eyes reflect the fire. The eyes belong to a man
without age, at once ancient and boyish, female and male;
his eyes are pained from the burden of too much knowledge.
So close is he to the flames that a lock of his wild hair
sizzles alight. He slaps at the fire as if it were an annoying
insect. He wears a cloak of black trimmed with silver. It is
Merlin. The wizard weaves a path through the burning forest,
dodging the combatants, searching.
Lord Uther! Lord Uther!
The forest around him weeps softly with the sounds that follow
slaughter. Patches of undergrowth are smoldering. Small flames
lick bark and branches.
Smoke floats through the trees and hovers over the bodies of
the dying and the dead.
A huge knight reins up beside Merlin on a lathered horse.
His armor is blood spattered. He is weary from battle. He
looks down at Merlin, his countenance fierce. The blade of
his sword glows with an unnatural aura.
It's done. A truce. We meet at the
Talk. Lovers murmuring to each
EXT. RIVER, FOREST - DAY
Waiting on one bank of a small river that flows through the
forest is a warlord, the Duke of Cornwall. He is flanked by
his armored warriors. Lot of Lowthean prominent among them.
They are battle-weary and bloodied, but they look ready to
fight. Behind them is an army of lesser knights.
To the opposite bank come Uther and Merlin, a much smaller
force of knights, including Uryens, Lord of Gore, surrounding
DUKE OF CORNWALL
I spit on your truce, Uther. If you
want peace, throw down your swords.
Uther and the Duke of Cornwall glare at each other in silence
across the river. Uther strains forward, burning with anger;
but Merlin restrains him.
I should butcher all and every one
of them. Merlin, what is this wagging
Just show the sword.
Uther unsheathes his mighty sword, and brandishes it in the
air high over his head. The blade hums disquietingly and
leaves a lingering electric hue upon the air. The marvel
instills dread in all present.