AN: Merlin belongs to the BBC. (Just to clarify, I am not the BBC).
Whew! I finally was able to post this. I hate finals week :P Sorry for the shortness of this chapter.
Aerysian had her horse with her. As she left to retrieve it, the knights leaned in to talk to each other.
"Do you think we can trust her?" Leon said skeptically.
Gwaine shrugged. "She hasn't cursed any of us yet. If Arthur trusts her enough to let her tag along, she must be alright."
"Unless it's because he wants to keep a closer eye on her," Elyan said darkly. "Why does she want to come, anyway?"
They were interrupted by Arthur. "I think I've found a trail!"
A few footprints could be seen going in a somewhat sloppy path into the underbrush, and several branches were snapped or bent. A few leaves were even smoking at the edges.
"Do you think he was drunk?" Percival asked with a raised eyebrow.
"It's possible," Arthur replied.
It turned out the Aerysian was actually a pretty good tracker. They followed the trail for miles, until they reached the edge of the trees. A sloping meadow spread out before them, and nestled into the crook of two small hills was a little village.
Arthur was about to suggest that they go ask the villagers if they had seen a sorcerer when screams rose up from the little cluster of houses. A second glance showed them that smoke was rising as well. The town was on fire.
The knights didn't need ordering. They ran towards the nearest building, which was steadily being engulfed in fire. "Water!" Leon roared pointing to the well a few feet away. The knights ran to help pull bucket loads up, but before Arthur could as well, he felt a hand close around his arm. He looked up. It was Merlin, and his servant was staring at a little boy sitting by himself next to the house.
At first, Arthur didn't get what was so strange. Tears were pouring down his face, which was screwed up against the heat and he was wailing, but that was only to be expected, what with the fire. Then he realized that no one was coming to help him. The villagers were running around in a frenzy, getting people out of the way and trying to put out the fire, but they were giving this boy a wide range.
But as they watched, a woman hesitantly reached out to him. He turned to her, screaming in rage as he did, and his eyes flared gold. The woman went flying back.
Arthur stared. The sorcerer was a child? Why was a child attacking villages? He knew sorcerers were evil, but surely corruption did not start this early?
Suddenly, the king realized Aerysian was not running to help. Instead she crouched down next to the child whole scene seemed to freeze as everyone turned to watch.
The child appeared to be using instinctive magic. He was not saying any spells that Arthur could make out. He heard Aerysian speak to him.
"Here, watch. This is how you do it." She spoke a spell, and a flame appeared in the palm of her hand. Arthur stared. What is she doing? Why is she showing him how to destroy the village? Was she lying the whole time?
The knights appeared to be thinking the same, but then Aerysian spoke again.
"And this is how you put it out." Her voice was much firmer this time. She spoke another incantation, and not only did the flame in her hand go out, but the roaring fire consuming the house seemed to diminish.
She looked at the little boy, who had been watching the magic with fascination. "Help me?" she asked.
She repeated the second spell many times, and the fire slowed. The boy did the same, but he stumbled over the words, stuttering slightly and mispronouncing. Arthur doubted he was doing much, but at least it was better than setting things on fire.
Once the flames were gone, the boy seemed to snap out of his haze. To everyone's surprise, he threw himself into Aerysian's arms, sobbing.
"They killed him!" he cried. "They killed my daddy! They burned him!" He seemed to be working himself up again, and the roof of a nearby shed sputtered with a weak fire, which Elyan hastily extinguished.
"Why did they burn him? Why didn't they have to burn too?" the boy wailed.
This was not what Arthur had expected. He had expected to meet a fully grown, aggressive sorcerer, not a boy whose magic was exploding with his grief. "Judge us all of the same model." This child's sadness was tugging at his heart in a way no other sorcerer had been able to.
For the first time, Arthur was feeling sorry for a sorcerer.
