Chapter II: Ignite

The forest was darker than it should be, the air heavier. No breeze stirred the leaves. Old mulch squelched beneath Merlin's boots as he kept moving.

"Queen Mab?" he called yet again. He'd lost track of how many times he'd shouted (and eventually just said) her name. He had an odd sense that time didn't matter quite so much here in the Impenetrable Forest.

Yet again, the Queen of Air and Darkness failed to respond.

Merlin huffed softly. He sat, his back against a tree, arms folded. "I'm taking a nap," he informed the trees.

A laugh tinkled through the air. A woman's form, lithe and strong, seemed to materialize out of the shade. "I wondered how long you would keep going. Where is your famous determination, Emrys?"

Merlin shrugged. "There's no point in doing the same thing again and again if you're not making progress," he pointed out. "I figured that if I couldn't find you, you'd find me, and I might as well be rested when you did."

"I suppose," she chuckled. "A pity you didn't wait longer."

"Sorry to cut short your amusement," the warlock deadpanned. He stood, his face settling into seriousness. "I can't remember much of our conversation from when Sigan kidnapped me, so I don't know if I thanked you or not for delaying him until the rescue party arrived. If I didn't, then I thank you now. If I did, then thank you again."

"You did," Mab assured him. The laughter was fading from her tilted eyes.

"Oh, good."

"Do you remember your promise?"

"No," Merlin admitted. "That's one of the reasons I'm here."

"Only one?"

"I'd prefer to fulfill the promise as soon as possible."

"That will not happen as quickly as you'd like," Mab replied. Her lips were beginning to curve again. "What do you think you promised to do?"

…maybe it hadn't been a good idea to admit to the mischievous queen that he didn't know what he owed her. In hindsight, that seemed like a good way to let her take advantage of him. Then again, he wasn't quite certain how he could have tricked her into telling him without letting on that he didn't know.

"Apparently something that will take a long time," he quipped. He closed his eyes, struggling to remember. The odor of the forest filled his nose. He'd smelled it in the dream, too. But that wasn't the only thing. Salt. He'd smelled salt too. And….

"It wasn't just you," he said slowly. "You said, 'We'd like to make a deal.' There was a man there too. Maybe your—no, I don't think he was your husband."

"I have none."

"Yeah, I kind of figured. Um. Was he the Fisher King?" He was the only other person, male or not, associated with the Perilous Lands that Merlin could think of.

"Perhaps."

"'Tragic is the speaker's plight,'" he recalled. "And the salt. I think it was. Am I supposed to help him somehow? I don't know a lot of healing magic, but I can try."

"Aye. Helping him is the first part of your quest."

Oh, lovely. A quest.

He did not have time for a quest.

"What does he need help with? Like I said, I'm not very good at healing magic yet. I know talented healers, though, and the Keeper of the Unicorns."

"He can tell you himself when you go to Caer Corbenic," Mab told him. "And once you have… assisted… him and received his gift, you'll find it much easier to fulfill the second portion of your vow."

Merlin was beginning to feel that he might have overpaid for his rescue.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what that second portion is?"

Mab's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Not directly. Where's the fun in that?"

"With me. The fun is with me."

"Instead of with me. I will give you a few hints, though. First, it is something you are prophesied to do. Second, you were quite enthusiastic about this part. Third… light and silence."

She disappeared then without so much as a goodbye. Merlin would have been surprised if this had happened a year ago, but he'd known Kilgharrah long enough that he'd honestly more than half-expected her to do that.

"Goodbye to you too," he grumbled, then lay down to take his nap.

"Be safe."

Elyan and Gwen blinked, surprised that they'd said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

"Of course I'll be safe," Gwen told her brother, the lie sour on her tongue. She certainly hoped she'd be safe, but, well, she had no way of knowing for certain. Just Morgana's wonderful, wonderful dream. "I'll be fine." Her voice was firmer this time. "You're the one going off to war, Elyan."

"The front lines," their father added, darkness in his eyes.

"And I'll have the others to guard my back," he pointed out. "You're in danger too, Gwen. We all know it."

Because Uther was going to do something, and Gwen was Merlin's friend.

"I have Morgana to guard my back," she retorted, unconsciously echoing his words. Her family didn't need to know how much danger Morgana was in herself, between the magic and her intention to sabotage the king in any way possible. (Also, the lady in question was still rather cagey about people knowing she had magic, which was another excellent reason to keep quiet.) "Morgana and Dad and quite a few of the people I've been helping. And if something goes wrong, I have plans to escape."

"To where?"

"To Merlin's parents," she replied honestly. "His father is a dragonlord."

Tom jerked in shock, but Elyan looked more confused than anything else. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means that he can summon the Great Dragon whenever he feels like it. Is that how the dragon knew about Sigan's attack?"

"…that's a good question. I'm honestly not certain." Gwen sighed softly, sadly. "I think that we should start walking now. We can talk on the way."

In public, their conversation turned to lighter, less treasonous things. Perhaps they should have discussed Elyan's departure some more, but they'd come to an unspoken agreement to avoid that. Instead, Tom told his children a couple stories about when he'd been courting their mother.

There was a contingent of soldiers waiting in front of Lord Leodegrance's manor. Several milled about aimlessly. Others checked their riding gear. Still others spoke among themselves or with their families.

Leon strode over, his red cloak swaying in the breeze. He nodded acknowledgement at Gwen and Tom before asking Elyan, "Do you have everything?"

"Yes." His smile was fond. "Do you really think that Gwen would let me leave the house if I didn't?"

Leon's lips quirked. "True," he acknowledged.

"It looks like almost everyone is already here," Elyan observed.

"Yes. We're almost ready to leave."

"I'm surprised your lady mother isn't here," Gwen teased, trying to lighten the mood.

It worked. Leon gave an affected shudder and assured them, "Don't worry, Father's keeping her busy. We said our goodbyes last night so Mother wouldn't delay the troops by hours."

Conversation continued in that inconsequential vein until the sharp call of a clarion signaled that it was time to march. Elyan hugged his family one last time (Gwen was pleased to note that he barely hesitated at all before wrapping his arms around their father) before jogging into position.

The guardsmen-turned-soldiers departed.

"…Do you think he'll be all right, Dad?"

"I hope so, Gwen. I hope so."

Morgana spent the day in a state of steadily increasing anxiety. She did her best to alleviate it, mainly by quietly spreading the word that Uther was planning something, that he'd act soon now that he'd sent Arthur out of the city. Her attempts were not very successful. Neither were Gwen's attempts to calm her down. The maid meant well, but she was afraid too, just doing a bit better job of hiding it.

Yet as the sun approached its zenith, Uther made no move. He'd spent most of the morning overseeing more of the reconstruction, which she supposed was a lot better than going on a rampage the second Arthur's party cleared the gates. It was just very nerve-wracking to know that he was preparing to strike back against sorcery, that he had to be planning something that would happen soon, without actually seeing those plans come to fruition.

Then an announcement went out: The king would give a speech shortly before sundown.

Having a timeframe did very little to ease the tight coil of fear in Morgana's belly. Perhaps it would have been different if Uther planned to announce his intentions earlier in the day, but it was still summer. Sunset was a long time away, so she had several hours to worry.

She and Gwen were spending the day in the healing tent again, which they'd found was an excellent way to gather and disseminate information. Shortly after receiving the news of Uther's speech, the women elected to take a break.

"Dad remembers the Day of Pyres," Gwen murmured, scanning the street for anyone paying undue attention to them. "He said that it all happened so quickly, nobody had time to fight back."

"Because Uther never bothered to announce that magic was illegal before he started rounding up spellbinders," Morgana growled.

"But now everyone knows that magic is illegal, and people realize that Uther would never let Sigan's attack go by without retaliation. I doubt that there are many spellbinders left in the city."

"We both know it doesn't matter if they're guilty or not. Dead is dead either way. And correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that anyone who died on the Day of Pyres got even a semblance of a trial. They were just rounded up and burned."

Gwen shuddered but didn't deny it. "They didn't know what was coming."

"They do now," Morgana pointed out, grim as the grave.

"They'll fight back," her friend agreed.

"They will," the witch confirmed.

Sure enough, the atmosphere all throughout the city soured and thickened and darkened as the day dragged on. Citizens were eyeing guardsmen with thinly disguised fear. The guards, for their part, watched the people with eyes that were narrowed in suspicion. Doubtless they were already searching for spellbinders.

There had been a slow but steady trickle of people heading out of the city all day. Morgana and Gwen weren't the only ones to realize that Arthur's forced departure was a prelude to something worse, and Tom wasn't the only person to remember the Day of Pyres. But shortly after the announcement about Uther's speech went out, he ordered the gates to be shut.

Word was quick to spread. Neighbors whispered it to neighbors, who murmured the news to their families and friends and any passerby who wasn't a guardsman. By the time the sunlight turned golden and the shadows long, the miasma of fear was strong enough to taste.

Gwen and Morgana spent the afternoon stockpiling bandages. They chatted a bit, at first, but they were affected by the mood too. Their sentences became shorter until they just stopped talking, working in grim silence.

The bells tolled. They sounded like death knells.

"I think we've done all we can here," Gwen said quietly, looking around the linen-filled tent with trepidation.

"Probably," Morgana agreed.

As Uther's ward, Morgana had a place on the balcony where he would give his speech. As her maid, Gwen had a place by her side. They'd have front-row seats.

They found the king writing in a study. The scratching of his quill was the only sound in the entire room. Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch….

"Sire." A guardsman, his cloak as bright as blood on snow, entered with a bow. "You requested that someone tell you when it was time."

Uther stood. In appearance, at least, he was every inch a king: his crown golden and shining, his clothing fine, his cloak rich, his iron demi-gaunts glinting. This was the man who had started the Purge.

Morgana curtsied slightly, though everything in her railed against it. Gwen's curtsy was deeper, and she tried to keep her face averted. She knew she was in danger, but there was no point in making things worse by giving Uther another reason to remember her existence. Better he half-see her as one of Morgana's accessories than as a potential target.

"Morgana." The lady almost jumped, her head snapping up. "You've been out in the city all day, have you not?"

"…Yes. I have."

"What do the people of Camelot say, now that our city is in ruins because of sorcery?"

This was absolutely not a conversation she wanted to have with him, now or ever. "…They say that Prince Arthur, the guards, and the knights fought valiantly against Sigan's forces." They said similar things about Merlin and his duel against Sigan himself, but she knew better than to mention that. "And they are grateful that Sigan will no longer trouble them."

"Yes." A muscle jumped in Uther's jaw. "One of the sorcerers who attacked my city is dead, but others remain. This so-called Merlin Emrys—" He nearly spat the name "—remains at large, as do the Great Dragon and the accomplices who wielded magic against the gargoyles. Do the people understand this, or do they believe that they were here to help?"

Morgana wished that Uther had chosen to wait in a room closer to the balcony. She settled on, "They know, Sire." It wasn't her fault if he made the wrong assumptions about what they knew.

"Perhaps," Uther sneered. "Or perhaps they know that you are my ward, that you are supposed to be loyal to me, and they refuse to reveal their true thoughts to you." He stopped, looked her dead in the eye. "Are you loyal to me, Morgana?"

"Of course," she lied, hoping it sounded convincing. "To you, and to Arthur, and to Camelot." Mostly the latter two, but that was another of those things Uther didn't need to know.

Uther stared at her, eyes boring into her soul. She stood rigid, a fake smile plastered on her face, sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Was the smile overdoing it? The smile was probably overdoing it. She let it fade into something more solemn before breaking his gaze to drop into a curtsy. It was deeper this time, and she held it for several seconds before she dared to look up again.

There was a frown on the king's face, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Other than that, his expression was indecipherable.

He turned. "Come. I have a speech to give."

(Morgana remembered her dream, then: a storm spewing forth from Uther's mouth, red rain falling across the kingdom. The storm symbolism was overdone, but at least it was easy to understand.)

He walked. Morgana followed with Gwen at her heels. Gods, she hoped that Uther had fallen for her lies.

The king strode out onto the balcony, cape swirling behind him. Lord Leodegrance and Lady Laudine were there already, staring out into the restive crowd that had gathered in the square below them—and, perhaps, the guards who loitered by every possible exit.

Uther stood by the railing. He lifted a hand, waited. Slowly, the murmuring of the crowd quieted.

"People of Camelot!"

Decades ago, long before Morgana was born, Uther had led the armies that reclaimed Camelot from Vortigern. He had learned to project his voice above the roar of battle, to give clear orders amidst the chaos. That skill served him well now. His words rang out, filling the square.

"More than twenty years ago, I began a crusade against the forces of magic that had run rampant throughout the land. The battle was long and hard and bloody, but I prevailed. I drove back magic and forced it into hiding. Yet the sorcerers have not taken their defeat lightly. They have been plotting against me, against Camelot, against us." He gestured to the wounded city. "Look around you! See what magic does!"

The crowd stirred. Their voices blended together in a soft buzz. Agreement, perhaps, or protest? Probably a little bit of both.

"We have grown complacent!" Uther thundered. "Our enemies have seen it, but we were blind until they started a war with Magance and almost destroyed this city. We must not be complacent any longer. We will not be complacent any longer."

Morgana clenched her hands into fists to stop their trembling.

"The time has come to renew our campaign against magic. Every claim, every whisper, every shadow of suspicion, my guards will investigate it all. Additionally, I have given them more power to protect you. No longer will we keep sorcerers imprisoned. Instead, when my guards find evidence of magic, they are free to execute the perpetrator."

Behind her, Gwen gasped.

The crowd murmured again. Just as before, Morgana couldn't tell how much was approval and how much was anger.

Uther waited for his people to quiet before continuing. "I have chosen to strengthen Camelot's alliance with King Sarrum of Amata, whose exemplary work in eradicating magic is an inspiration to us all. King Sarrum's youngest daughter, Princess Orgeluse, will wed Prince Arthur this winter. Amata's men will reinforce the security of the citadel and assist in crushing sorcerers wherever they might be hiding."

This time, Morgana thought that the crowd sounded more disapproving. Amata in general and Sarrum in particular had… reputations. So did Orgeluse, though Morgana suspected that the Haughty Maid was more known to the nobility than the peasantry. Leodegrance and Laudine had certainly looked horrified by the news before they'd managed to cover it up with false smiles.

"We are also strengthening our alliance with Essetir. King Cenred will marry my ward, Lady Morgana of Cornwall, this autumn."

Morgana's jaw sagged. Her ears rang. Surely she had misheard. She must have.

"Soon, I shall depart for the great meeting of the Five Kingdoms. My brother kings understand full well the dangers and evils of magic. Godwyn and Alined have already pledged their aid, and Olaf and Rodor will doubtless follow suit. Together, we will form the greatest alliance in the history of Britannia! We will raise armies as numerous and powerful as the legions of Rome! Together, we will seek out our sorcerous enemies. We will hunt them down like the beasts they are, drive them out of their lairs, and kill them all with fire and sword. None will be safe. None will survive. All of them, from the lowliest hedgewitch to the greatest mage, will die."

Uther slammed his fist down upon the railing, metal against stone. His smile and the light of his eyes were terrible to behold.

"Tonight, the Purge begins anew!"

Alternate chapter title: "In Which Uther Does the Thing We All Knew he was Going to do (and Some Things we Didn't Expect)"

Next chapter: February 15. Morgana is not happy about her betrothal (or anything else), Merlin comes to a realization, and Uther has a scheme that he's keeping secret.