It was another sorceress, because there always is another.
They stumbled upon her in the forest, in her camp, where the flowers bloomed and birds sang even in late autumn evening, apparently magicking herself a supper.
When they rounded her, she chided them akin an irritated grandmother, when children get into mischief.
- Oh!, put those pokers away, will you? - she huffed, and with a wave of her hand their swords went flaccid, like overcooked noodles. - I will come with you, no need for the theatrics.
She disdained the ropes (which turned into flower crowns over her body) and their notions of capture (which she greeted with the air of a parent patiently listening to a favorite child's over excited story). She magicked herself a comfortable bed, while they slept on the ground and shielded herself from rain that came down in a drizzle once they emerged from the forest. Overall, she looked more put together and content with the world than the knights and the Prince, escorting her, when they entered Camelot's court yard. She was presented to the King with no dely.
- Arthur, why is she free? - Uther hissed angrily.
- Ohh stuff a sock in it, will ya? - the sorceress snorted. - I will not be bound like a common ruffian.
- Guards! Irons! and cuff this, this... - the king bellowed with rage.
- And you think this will work? when nothing else has? - the witch shook he head. - You gave up all means of protection for yourself and your kingdom, when chased away your mages and banned the arts.
The gathered crowd murmured at her words. The guard carrying heavy shackles approached her from behind, other holding spears stood by his sides. With neigh a sign, and a shout from the scared man, the metal turned soft and gooey and slipped from his grasp, polling like water on the floor.
- You dare use sorcery before me! - spluttered Uther face growing red.
- Well, I was using sorcery in the forest, minding my own business and not bothering anyone. But then these strapping lads insisted I come with them to see you and you seem intent on trying to tie me up. That's not my pleasure, so I need to stop you somehow, right? - she appeared to delight in the king's impotent anger.
Merlin gapped at the sorceress, who looked completely non pulsed. On the other hand, she didn't sound like she would start throwing fireballs all over the hall, either. If anything she looked kind of bored…?
- Take her to the dungeon! – raged Uther. – Prepare the stake! You will burn yet today!
- Now, now…- she placated. – No, I will not. I will continue my journey to the perilous lands and there is nothing you can do to stop me. – she took an air of the disappointed mother as she continued, over the kings shouting. – You lost all means to keep any sorcerers of any strength, except for hedge witches when you got rid of your own magicians. The only people you burned after the initial rounding of mages in your kingdom were those poor sods that have a small talent that involuntarily activated. They had no recourse when your men captured them, as they did not know to call upon Magics to protect them. – she sighed. – Now, you obviously had some success in fighting the mages that came upon you for revenge. But that seems to be more luck than design.
Now, Merlin didn't think that was fair. He worked hard to protect Arthur and Camelot. That it also always seemed to protect Uther was just as a byproduct. But the witch continued.
- Instead of striking at you directly, they plot convoluted plans to hurt you as you hurt them. They attack your son, Arthur, who apparently has some sort of magical protection. Whether that is by virtue of fate or circumstance remains to be seen. - Arthur gaped at her bewildered, while Merlin couldn't help but nod.
- Magic is a plague that almost ruined this country once! – Uther shouted, trying to drown out the doubt that this sorceress sowed with her speech. – I will eradicate it from the world! , if it's the last thing I do! – He moved as thought to tackle the woman on his own, only to find himself restrained on his throne.
- Ahh, but you see, Kind Uther, you can't. – she shook her head at him, with almost pity in her eyes. – The world is a vast place. More so than even your best scholars realize. Camelot is but a small piece of it. You may ban magic here, but in Estir magic lives. Maybe not the best of life but alive nonetheless. And Estir too, is just another small realm in Albion. Even your alliance with other kingdoms cannot kill magic in Albion. And Albion is just an island on the northern sea. What about the Brittany? What about the Franks, the Germani? Scandinavia? – with each country she widened her arms, as thought to encompass all of those on one sphere. – Magic thrives in those places, sorcerers advise their kings, grow and learn and study. Gather and disperse as they please. And those are just your closest neighbors. – she added almost as an afterthought. – In the land far, far east, by a different sea, rules an emperor-dragon lord. From father to son, with dragons protecting their boarders. The lands southern from there, wizards commune with snake people furthering knowledge of healing beyond your wildest imagination. In land of Kemet the priests still hold communion with the gods of old. South of there, below the great desert, the dark hot forests hold secrets that even I can't divine.
The court swayed with the expanse of the world she laid before them. Uther himself paled as the impotence of his quest downed on him. Arthur shivered as he thought of the countries she described, poor people covering under the burden of their sorcerer evil overlords.
- And they thrive! – she gleefully cheered, as though answering Arthur dark thoughts. – Coffers full, people fed and happy. Eyes bright and leaning towards the future. They will not give up their ways, even should you manage to send them a message.
Merlin listened to the witch. A great burden, he didn't even know was on his shoulders, lifting with each example she gave. Magic will live on, even if he fails. Even if Uther kills him. Even if Arthur doesn't lift the ban on magic in Camelot. Magic will live on, in those faraway places, where neither the king nor his hatred can touch it.
- You are but a one, mortal King Uther. Your crusade against it will not change the fate of magic. Will not kill all the magic users. – she left no room for argument. - We will survive, and learn, and thrive, and live in the light again. Maybe we have to wait for you to die, maybe we will have to wait out even Prince Arthurs rein. Leaving the lands of Camelot untreated and unattended by us. You are but a one mortal. – she repeated. - Be it by magic, by sword or simply old age, your time will pass. People will forget your crusade and welcome us back when we heal the wounded, feed the hungry, bless the lands and the people. Like water flowing to the lowest point, magic will come back to the land that abandoned it, once that which holds it back is gone.
She straightened to her full height and appeared more regal than the spluttering king.
- So, rant, and rage, and rave as you will. Magic is patient, it can wait. One human life. – she turned to Price Arthur. – Or two, if your son is as full of hatred and rage as you. If he chooses poorly. – again, she got a faraway look in her eyes, magic glowed gold in the depths. – Fear is a bad advisor. Don't let it rule you. The time of trial is not upon you, yet. Live and learn and love. The coin will be tested on both sides. One hand cannot work if it doesn't know what the other's doing.
She blinked and air lightened perceptively, like a cloud blowing over and sun coming out again.
- Now, I said what I wanted. Whether you listen to an old woman word, I care not. – she returned to the manner of the irritated grandmother scolding her grandchildren. – Fare thy well, King Uther Pendragon. Fare thy well. For you will sooner be forgotten then the magic you so detest.
And with a final bow she disappeared in a whirl of flowers leaving the bewildered courtiers, raging king, confused prince and contemplative warlock behind.