Chapter IV: Possess and Dispossess

His manservant was a spellbinder.

Well, Arthur rationalized, at least it was Cedric instead of Merlin.

Cedric's eyes were black, not the golden hue usually associated with magic. His clothing was black too, a well-cut ensemble complete with a cloak made of feathers. Raven, probably, or at least a crow.

"Where is it?" the spellbinder hissed. The invisible force keeping Arthur aloft tightened around his neck, rendering it harder to breathe. "Where is the Raven's Key?"

"I don't know," Arthur managed. He'd been aiming for a strong and clear tone, but his voice came out hoarse and choked. "I don't even know what it is!"

The grip loosened. Apparently the spellbinder believed him this time. Arthur wasn't certain how this was any different from his last three attempts at convincing him, but since this allowed him to breathe, he didn't waste time thinking about it.

"It is an artifact of immense magical power, meaning that it should be in your vile father's treasure vault. The inventory listed it. Yet when I reached to pick it up…." The supernatural suffocation resumed, tighter than ever. "…it was but an illusion."

Arthur's eyes bugged out, and not just because he was effectively being strangled.

The prince was lowered to the ground—still pinned by magic, unable to move, but at least he wasn't being held up by his throat anymore. Cedric stared at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. "You didn't know," he murmured. A smirk split his face. "You truly had no idea."

Arthur shook his head. He hadn't.

The smirk widened into a grin. "I wonder, were you robbed by one of my kin, or did one of your ancestors have the illusion commissioned?"

"Don't know," Arthur mumbled, hoping very much that it was the former and his father had just never mentioned it to him. His voice was a bit stronger. If he took a deep enough breath, perhaps he could call for the guards. But should he? Cedric was obviously powerful, doubtless strong enough to take on several guards, and there might not be any within earshot anyways.

Now would be an excellent time for one of Emrys's interventions.

The thought made Arthur scowl. He was the crown prince of Camelot, a knight and warrior, and he refused to spend the rest of his life relying on a bizarrely friendly warlock to constantly save his bacon.

If he could just get to his sword….

Arthur's eyes flickered to his desk, to the sheathed blade that lay upon it. Cedric had pinned him up right next to his bedroom window, so his weapon was on the other side of the room. Had he done that on purpose? More importantly, could Arthur somehow break free from his spell-induced paralysis, sprint across the room, unsheathe his blade, and wound Cedric badly that he wouldn't retaliate before the spellbinder could react? It didn't seem very likely. Cedric was powerful enough that Arthur couldn't even move, much less defeat the man.

So calling for the guards would probably just get good men killed, he couldn't save himself, and his self-appointed magical bodyguard was presumably sleeping like normal people did at this time of night. Arthur himself had been fast asleep until he'd awakened pinned to the wall, and he had no doubt that his competent knights were still snoozing. The point was that Arthur wouldn't be getting reinforcements anytime soon.

To buy himself time (because surely he could think of a plan if he just had the time), Arthur asked, "What exactly is the Raven's Key?"

"The cornerstone of Camelot's magical defenses, and now the weapon of its destruction," Cedric replied, almost absently. He was clearly thinking hard about something. Perhaps, if he thought hard enough, his concentration would slip enough so that Arthur could move. So that meant that Arthur should probably remain quiet in the hopes that the spellbinder would forget about him. It wasn't exactly likely, but it was the only plan he had.

Now that he thought about it, Arthur was pretty certain that he'd heard of the Raven's Key before. Cornelius Sigan had made it, he recalled, back in the days when he and Bruta Pendragon had been as close as brothers. He had no idea what it was supposed to do, though maybe it had something to do with a door? That was a good use for something called the Raven's Key, right?

Whatever it did, he really shouldn't let Cedric get ahold of it. Hell, he shouldn't let anyone get ahold of it if it could be used as the weapon of Camelot's destruction. Which begged the question of where, exactly, it was. Arthur very much wanted to believe that the weapons vault was an elaborate hoax that one of his more magic-friendly ancestors had commissioned as a decoy for thieves. Yet he was fairly certain that his father would have mentioned something like that. If Cedric was telling the truth about the vaults—which he probably was, or else he wouldn't have broken into Arthur's room—and Uther didn't know about it, then obviously some spellbinder had snuck in and absconded with a bunch of very powerful, potentially very dangerous weapons, including the supposed key to Camelot's destruction.

If Arthur made it out of this mess alive, he would really have to do something about that.

Was it his imagination, or were the invisible bands keeping him immobile starting to loosen? Arthur's eyes glanced once again at the sword. Maybe he should shout really loudly and hope that Cedric would be startled enough to drop his spell? Then again, with his luck, Cedric would probably just bang him against the wall until he lost consciousness.

His door opened, its hinges announcing the motion in a sharp squeak. As one, Arthur and Cedric turned.

Arthur didn't know who he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn't Morgana. His friend was dressed in a pale nightgown, the candle in her arms painting it a subtle gold.

Cedric's magic tightened around Arthur, slamming him once more into the wall. On the other side of the room, another tendril of invisible force grabbed Morgana, jerking her away from the threshold. The door swung shut behind her, leaving them locked in.

Morgana's eyes were wide with fright, but her voice only shook a little as she said, "I know you must despise Uther, Cedric. You have every right to. But assassinating Arthur isn't the way to bring magic back to Camelot."

The spellbinder looked downright amused, his lips curling in a sardonic grin. "I'm not here to liberate Camelot, girl." The grin changed from sardonic to demonic. "I'm here to destroy it."

Green eyes went wide with horror. "That's not the way either," Morgana told him, fear leaking into her voice. "Destroying Camelot won't make the other kingdoms accept magic. This will only hurt your people, not help them."

Was it just Arthur's imagination, or were his feet a couple inches closer to the ground? The pressure around his neck was certainly not as constricting as it had been earlier.

"You're acting under the assumption that I care what happens to the spellbinders of this age," Cedric sneered. There was dark amusement in his voice, as though he was privy to a hilarious private joke.

Morgana faltered. "Cedric," she began, but the man cut her off with a negligent wave of his hand.

"I am not Cedric," he announced. His voice was soft and dangerous like rotten ice above black water. "Cedric was a foolish thief, a petty little man whose greed led him to the tomb hidden within your catacombs." He stepped towards Morgana, eyes gleaming black. Across the room, Arthur's toes brushed the floor. "My tomb."

"Your…?"

"Mine," Cedric—no, not Cedric, not at all—confirmed. "I am the Raven of Albion, the Master of the Tides, the Builder of Camelot. I am Cornelius Sigan."

Arthur bit his lip to keep from gasping. Morgana's sharp inhalation covered the almost inaudible noise of his first footstep.

Green eyes met blue. However frightened she was, Morgana recognized exactly what her foster brother was trying to do. Her lips pressed together in a thin line of determination. "But you built Camelot," she blurted, perfectly playing her role as the distraction.

"And how did Bruta Pendragon repay me?" Sigan growled. "He had me murdered, my body flung into an anonymous pit. The people of Camelot did nothing then, just as they did nothing when Uther Pendragon decided to murder my kin. Never trust a Pendragon, my lady. Treachery is in their blood."

Arthur scowled, nostrils flaring, but he wasn't stupid enough to comment. He would like to survive this, thank you very much.

"There are people who remember you," Morgana was saying, her gaze riveted on Sigan's stolen face. "Some people revere you, and many of the people who don't are still grateful for your work. The city is beautiful and strong, and the people who live here love it. I do."

Sigan appeared to be totally focused on her. That was good. This was the most dangerous part of the plan, for if the ancient spellbinder noticed motion from the corner of his eye….

Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Arthur reached out and grasped his sword. He took three quick quiet steps backwards, just far enough that he wouldn't be caught in Sigan's peripheral vision, and padded towards the possessed man. He could do this. He stalked prey all the time, and he didn't have Merlin here to (deliberately, he was absolutely sure) alert his target to his presence. He could do this. Just a few more steps….

Any other time, Arthur would have been thoroughly ashamed of what he was about to do. Even now, he hated how dishonorable his plan was. But if Cedric—Sigan—saw him, then the ancient spellbinder would just pick him up with magic again. He and Morgana would both die, then Sigan would go on to destroy Camelot. Honor was important, yes, but Camelot was even more so.

In a single fluid motion, Arthur drew his sword and plunged it into Sigan's back.

The spellbinder dropped to his knees. Morgana fell as well, released from her invisible prison as Sigan's magic failed. Dark blood gurgled up where blade met flesh, soaking his shirt and dripping onto the floor.

Cornelius Sigan died again without a sound, a blue light leaving his body and disappearing.

All in all, it was extremely anticlimactic. This was supposedly one of the most powerful mages in history, and he'd been taken out in a single blow. Arthur supposed he shouldn't complain, as this way he wouldn't have to worry about an undead creature with the ability to possess people constantly attempting to destroy everything he cared about, but still. Really.

Arthur could only suppose that Sigan's reputation had been exaggerated over the years.

"Do you really think that killed him?" Morgana asked, staring at the body with worry in her eyes.

Arthur looked at the enormous hole in Sigan's chest and nodded. "He looks dead to me."

"But he smiled, Arthur," Morgana protested. "You impaled him and he smiled."

That was a tad disturbing, Arthur had to admit. "Maybe he went mad from being dead for so long?"

"Maybe." Morgana leaned over the body. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "A raven. Of course!" Her head snapped up. "This isn't over, Arthur." She spun on her heel, flinging his door open. "We need to talk with the guards, now. Gaius too."

"What?" Arthur was faintly incredulous. "Morgana, he's dead."

The lady was striding down the hall. Arthur scurried after her. "He's not dead," Morgana explained, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the prince was listening. "You killed his body, yes, but so did Bruta Pendragon. His spirit survived."

"…I'll get Sullivan and Leon. Can you get Gaius and Father and meet us in the council chamber?"

"Yes."

About ten minutes later, the four bleary-eyed men were sitting around the table listening to Arthur's story, with Morgana chiming in to clarify details. By the time they were through, nobody was sleepy anymore.

"Gaius," Uther began, "what are the odds that Sigan is still at large?"

"Quite high, I'm afraid," the physician sighed. "I obviously don't know much about immortality, much less how he obtained it, but if Cedric released him from his tomb, I doubt that killing the host body would stop him."

"And he could possess… anyone?"

"I'm afraid so, sire."

Uther's jaw worked for a long moment before he regained his capacity for speech. "You will need to research spirits, possession, Sigan, and anything else you think might help. Geoffrey will help you, as will your apprentice when he returns."

Arthur glanced at Morgana, who was watching the king and nodding slightly. No doubt she and Guinevere would volunteer to help.

"Is there a way to find out if someone is possessed?" Leon asked.

"Sigan's eyes were black," Arthur recalled. "Not all the time, but they would change colors whenever he was being particularly malevolent."

"Sullivan, have your guards on the lookout for black-eyed individuals," Uther ordered. "Gaius, is there any way to prevent possession?"

The physician frowned thoughtfully. "I cannot think of any offhand, but… perhaps a salt circle? Those are known to affect quite a few types of spirit." He grimaced. "The other preventative measures I can think of are all illegal." By which he meant magical.

"We'll have to organize a search come morning," Uther murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "For Sigan's new host, and for these missing artifacts." Scowling, his nostrils flared, he turned on Sullivan. "Care to explain why the Raven's Key is not in the vault?"

Arthur grimaced. There went his hope that there really was another secret weapons vault that his father had simply forgotten to mention. That meant that the artifacts really had been taken by a spellbinder.

"We don't know that Sigan was telling the truth, sire," Sullivan mumbled, not meeting his king's eyes. "Is it possible that he just didn't find it?"

Uther fixed the fool with a withering glare. Sullivan winced.

"Perhaps we could check the vault?" Leon interjected. Ever the peacekeeper, that one.

"An excellent idea, Sir Leon."

It turned out that Sigan had not, in fact, been lying about the absence of the Raven's Key. It, along with every single other artifact that Arthur checked, had indeed been replaced by an illusory doppelganger that shimmered like water over a lake when touched.

Uther's face was grim and terrible as he rounded on the quaking Sullivan. "You are relieved of your duty as the captain of my guard. Leave this city by sunset, or I shall have you flogged."

"Yes, sire," the former guard squeaked, bowing low. He scrambled away, not daring to turn his back on the king until the door was between them. Then all was silent, save for Uther's furiously heavy breathing.

It was Gaius who finally dared to interrupt the quiet. "Someone will have to take an inventory, sire. Should I, or did you still want me to research Sigan?"

"Geoffrey will take the inventory," Uther growled. "Leon, you will immediately assemble the guards and knights to begin your search. Inspect every building, every cranny, every hole in the ground. Check the tunnels if you have to. I want these items found."

"As you command, sire."

"Morgana, Gaius, go back to sleep. You need to be well-rested for morning. Arthur, come with me."

Uther stomped through the halls, his face a thundercloud. Arthur followed, not daring to make a sound. It wasn't until they reached the eastern barracks that he spoke. "You woke briefly while the so-called Emrys healed you from the Questing Beast's bite, did you not?"

"I did," Arthur admitted, suddenly realizing why they were in this particular room. "It wasn't here, though, Father. This is simply where he returned me."

"What did it look like?"

Arthur frowned, trying to remember. "I was more focused on the unicorn, but… I think I was in a cave. It was dark and cool and damp, and I don't recall seeing a ceiling."

Uther was searching the room, lifting thin mattresses to ensure that nothing was hidden beneath them. Arthur began inspecting pillows, partly because it was something to do and partly because he was not particularly comfortable with the conversation. Uther knew that Emrys had saved his son from a wraith and the Questing Beast's bite, but Arthur hadn't told him about the Cave of Balor or the Tir-mors. He especially hadn't mentioned the civil conversation that he and Emrys had conducted in this very room.

"You think that Emrys did this, Father?"

"No," Uther growled, "but I do believe that the warlock calling himself Emrys is responsible."

"Calling himself?" Arthur echoed.

"Never you mind," Uther snapped.

"I suppose he wouldn't use his real name," Arthur said, "unless of course he's a druid."

But the king was shaking his head. "That is not a name the druids give their children."

"Why not?"

Uther scowled. "There is nothing here," he groused. "I did not truly think so, but…."

"Why do you think that Emr—ah, the person calling himself Emrys was the thief?" Arthur asked. He knew his father well enough to realize that the subject had been changed, that he wouldn't get any more odd comments about his warlock's name.

"He demonstrated skill with illusions during his fight with the wraith, and he is clearly familiar with Camelot and with you. That sort of familiarity can only come from someone who has spent a great deal of time in the citadel, even within the castle itself." Uther's fists clenched. "That, and he is clearly working on a long-term plan. Perhaps he was behind Sigan's release."

"I doubt it, Father," Arthur said without thinking.

The king looked at him, one eyebrow quirked.

Arthur flushed. Emrys had told him his goal: he wanted Arthur to restore magic to Camelot and create peace between their peoples. Releasing an ancient warlock with a grudge would only hinder that goal. (Part of him noted with mild surprise that he believed Emrys's stated goals completely and filed that information away for further contemplation.)

But the prince couldn't say any of that. Instead, he mumbled, "Well, wouldn't Sigan have the Raven's Key, then?"

Uther considered a moment before nodding. "An excellent point, Arthur. If we're lucky, they'll cross paths and kill each other off."

Arthur spent the next few hours rounding up sleepy knights and searching the heart of the city (the guards would search the outskirts). They found nothing, though whether that was due to exhaustion or there being nothing to find Arthur didn't know. Perhaps Sigan had left Camelot or gone back to his tomb or passed on, and he doubted that Emrys (if it was Emrys who had done the stealing) was stupid enough to keep his loot in Camelot.

A couple hours after dawn, a breathless page informed him that the king required his presence immediately. Sighing heavily, Arthur told his men to carry on and made his way back to the small council chamber. One look at Uther's face told him that he had not been summoned to receive good news.

"What happened, Father?" he asked.

The king's face twitched. "It would seem," he growled out, "that Emrys has taken more than artifacts." Something flitted through his eyes, something that looked almost like fear, but it was quickly drowned by Uther's rage. "He has released the Great Dragon."

When I first saw "The Curse of Cornelius Sigan," I thought that the writers were introducing the Nimueh of Season 2: a powerful, ruthless, dangerous enemy, but this one could possess people and was interested in killing, like, everyone rather than just the Pendragons plus collateral. Then this ancient badass was defeated by a single spell and pretty much never mentioned again. This always annoyed me, so I decided to make Sigan this book's Big Bad.

I love how Arthur doesn't even question Morgana's presence (she had a dream and went to check on him) because that's pretty much what he does in canon whenever Merlin shows up in the nick of time.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Uther Discovers that he has Somehow Managed to Lose not just Several Highly Important Artifacts but also an Enormous Honking Dragon (and it isn't even noon yet)"

Next chapter: July 29. The fallout from this one and also Merlin's return. ("I've only been gone a few days and this is what I come back to?!")

-Antares