Emrys feels the pull of its destined vessel to the north and in a flash it urges The King Brenin's vessel after it. By the time they are out of the gates the pull is gone but a new awareness intrudes on its senses. Another vessel. One that is strong enough to fulfill Emrys' duty to the King. With a flip of the reins the King's vessel turns eastward.

OoO

The next morning they send the overworked Llamrai back to Camelot with a message to the effect of 'I found Arthur. Will return shortly.' and conveniently leaving out anything concerning their rescue mission.

Mounting their remaining horses Gwaine turns to Arthur with an overly cheery grin; the one he uses when he doesn't want others to realize how on edge he is. "Well Princess? You're the one who led us here. Where to next?"

Arthur closes his eyes and concentrates on the watchfulness surrounding him. He's sure that the sorcerer means naught but ill for them and yet he's also strangely certain that he'd not been waylaid when riding towards Merlin yesterday. That that feeling is coupled with the sinking feeling that Merlin is already in the sorcerer's clutches is absorbed and set aside without a second's thought. If it's true, which, given the way their luck tends to run, it probably is, they will just have to free him when they find him. At least this way they stand a chance of breaking his own enchantment at the same time. Killing the sorcerer should serve admirably for achieving both goals. He digs deeper into the the place where he can feel the eyes watching him. Something gives and then pushes against his mental probes.

"Just. a. bit. more…"

Gwaine sits watching silently and alert for any sudden or dangerous behavior from Arthur.

"C'mon. Tell me. where. Merlin-"

Arthur yelps in panic. Gwaine rushes forward, but from his perspective nothing changes. From Arthur's however the world is suddenly awash in gold. It feels him with a sense of safety and wellbeing yet his only thought is that the world has gone mad because this is so obviously magic and it feels familiar and magic shouldn't feel familiar and warm and safe and-

Arthur.

And it definitely shouldn't be talking to him.

Arthur. The presence then sends him what is definitely a command. Calm down. He ignores it entirely.

"Go away! Leave me alone!"

"Arthur? What's going on?"

Gwaine appears in front of him and the golden glow winding through the trees seems to intensify in a halo around the knight.

"Gwaine?"

"Yeah Arthur. I'm here. Are you about to do something stupid again?"

Arthur ignores him. "Did you know that you're glowing?" His voice squeaks at the end of the question and Gwaine raises an eyebrow and places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"No, I wasn't aware of that."

Arthur gulps. Whatever this spell is doing to him it's clear that at the very least he wrongly attributed it to the sorcerer they'd seen earlier. This magic seems to repel the shadows, leaving everything awash in an even illumination. He can't imagine it being used to summon evil shadow creatures. Burning Camelot to the ground? Sure… but nothing to do with darkness.

This way.

The unspoken command in his mind sends him reaching for the reins before he realizes what he's doing and snatches them back.

"I'm not taking the orders of some sorcerer!"

The feelings and images that flash through his mind are much more complex than the earlier commands and reassurances, but he gets the sense that the magic is arguing with him, or trying to.

"Arthur?"

He turns to his knight.

"You did say you were going to try to find Merlin by following the same thing as guided you yesterday right?"

"Yeah?"

"So don't you kinda have to take orders from this sorcerer?"

Arthur thinks about that for a moment.

"Unless you want wander through the woods at random and hope we just stumble upon him?"

Gwaine's right. Arthur winces at the bad news that Gwaine being right spells for his future sanity but repeats it out loud just to cement its truth. "You're right. Let's get going."

He flips the reigns and urges his horse into a trot. Gwaine falls in line behind him and then Arthur is wading into the same haze he had yesterday only this time he is aware of the golden magic as it directs him right and left in a twisting maze that sends them in what seems like circles until they come to a hidden valley far beyond Camelot's borders.

Warily they ride through two huge old cedars and Gwaine pulls his sword free as Arthur halts in the middle of an equally shocked camp of druids.

Immediately the magic surrounding him leaps up as if it were a fire. To his shock Arthur can sense the specific individual that had caused the golden magic to react. To his even greater shock he recognizes the young man as the very same druid boy he'd rescued so many years ago.

"Mordred?"

OoO

The vessel is a boy already ensconced in a destiny of his own. Emrys recognizes it; Medraut. With an angry cry it launches itself at the doom of the King.

OoO

To his dismay the boy seems not to hear him. The standerbys press themselves backwards as the sight of the King of Camelot sitting upon a black horse at the center of a storm of lighting. One of the elders, their leader, Gwaine presumes, steps forward only to be forced back by a flicker of lightning that singes the ground at his feet. Gwaine shoves his sword back in his belt and carefully backs the dancing Gringolet up as well. Whatever Arthur had gotten himself into, if the even druids are wary of it, Gwaine knows he stands not a chance in the world.

Arthur watches transfixed as the magic swells up and away from him and then dives straight towards the waiting Mordred. Something like the angry cry of a falcon rends the air and then a cloud of vivid white rises to meet the cloud of gold with a sickening crack of thunder.

OoO

Emrys engulfs Medraut with a blinding light trying to force it away from its vessel. Medraut would extinguish the King. Medraut would extinguish Emrys' purpose. That must not happen. Not now. Not ever. The vessels stand frozen across from each other. Within the mounted king, Brenin begins to rise to the challenge. Its vessel unsheathes his sword and Emrys uses a stray bolt of power to slam the sword back in its sheath. No. The King and his Doom must not fight.

Medraut takes the form of a slim white dragon and slams itself through Emrys' defenses. Brenin surges out of its vessel, a mirror in red of its attacker. Emrys twists helplessly midair, feeling ill for the first time in its existence. Despite the magic of the world running through its purpose, without a vessel of its own it can do little for or against the other fighting powers. Coiling it instead waits for its chance to spring.

OoO

When two dragons of red and white twist themselves together out of nothing but light and magic Gwaine decides he's had enough. Leaving Arthur where he stands, stock still on his calm horse in the middle of it all, and if that isn't a piece of sorcerery Gwaine doesn't know what is, he focus' on the druids. Scooping two children up onto his horse he sets the reins in the hands of an adult and yells for them to get out of there. Turning, he fights his way through the magical maelstrom towards another cluster of crying children. A flash of gold in the eyes of the eldest creates a temporary bubble of calm around their position and he nods gratefully. Right now, anything that isn't trying to tear them apart is appreciated. He herds the gaggle towards the nearest path out of the valley. Once they're beyond the fiercest effects of the storm he turns back only to find that everyone else is gone. Across the clearing he meets the eyes of the druid elder watching the conflict like he is from behind a tree. Both wait for the chance to grab away their charges to safety.

OoO

Brenin thrills in the freedom of this battle. For too long had it been repressed under years of fear and conditioning. Now, with the help of Emrys and the prodding of its own vessel it has broken those chains that bound it, helpless, deep inside its vessel. Now it circles its enemy and silently watches for an opening. Now Medruat turns away from a buffeting wing. Now Brenin lunges for its enemy's throat. The battle fire runs through its core. This is what it should be doing. Medraut twists away from the blow and buffets Brenin with its wings. A golden wall of magic rises between them. Brenin snarls in unison with Medraut at the interruption. Too long has it waited. Its purpose lies with the land of Britannia. Its strength is in its will to fight; to rise again and again; bloodied but unbowed until all foes lie at its feet. It must fight. It climbs higher, above the height Emrys can reach without a vessel of its own to anchor it to the mortal world. Medraut follows, keening in its eagerness to tear the King apart.

I hope this gives you readers the better picture of Emrys that you've been asking for? Also, for those of you who have read the old legends how does my reimaging of the dragons of Dinas Emrys suit you? All feedback welcome and appreciated.