Chapter 8: The Knights of Medhir

Merlin cast a spell as he and Arthur ran for the guardhouse. It was simply an illusion to hide his druid cloak and veil his stave, garbing him instead in the crimson of a guardsman of Camelot. Few enough people had gotten a good look at Emrys's face, and anyways, no one was paying attention to the random guard at Arthur's heels. It was the prince they watched, the prince they made way for.

Sir Leon had already gathered some of the guards. His head snapped up when Arthur entered, gaze flitting from the prince to the runner at his heels. His eyes went wide in recognition. That was right. He and "Emrys" had spoken briefly after the incident with the Questing Beast. "Arthur, that's—"

"Report, Sir Leon."

"But…."

"Report."

"The East Gate has fallen, sire. We're not sure who, but all things considered, it's possibly Cornelius Sigan."

Blue eyes met golden, and Merlin nodded sharply, his grip tightening on Beothaich. He ducked out of the room so nobody would see him cast the spell, because there was really no reason to advertise to anyone but Leon that a known warlock had been following Arthur tonight. "Bedyrne mec! Astýre mec þanonweard!"

The East Gate was broken, its hinges melted away. A half-dozen dead guards lay in puddles of blood. Merlin took a step towards the nearest fallen form, stopped, jumped back as a figure strode out of the shadows.

It was a human warrior clad in a tattered dark cloak, old scarred armor, and an equally old and scarred metal mask that cast his eyes in shadow. Something about him made Merlin's hair stand on end. "Who are you?" he demanded, clutching his staff tighter.

In reply, the masked man drew his sword, pale and slender and blotched with blood.

"Swefne," Merlin snapped, because he really needed to find Sigan before he took another gate.

The masked warrior kept going, completely unaffected by the warlock's spell. Fast as thought, he charged towards the warlock, who only managed to escape by slowing time.

"Astrice," Merlin spat. The warrior went flying, hit the city wall with enough force to knock a normal man unconscious. Yet, as was becoming increasingly obvious, this was not a normal man. Merlin wasn't quite certain what he was, but he knew that much.

The warrior wasn't even winded as he regained his feet. Still, he was more cautious than before, sizing Merlin up.

"Are you Cornelius Sigan?" the warlock asked. He doubted it. This enemy had used a sword rather than magic, and while there were certainly spellbinders who used conventional weapons, he and Gaius had found no evidence that Sigan had been one of them.

The masked man didn't reply. He shifted his weight forward, ready to charge at a moment's notice.

"Can you even understand me?" the warlock wondered. There was no response this time either.

Then the knight was on him again. Merlin used no words, simply grabbing him and levitating him, much as Sigan had done to Arthur when he revealed his presence. Another tendril of thought tossed aside the bloody sword, while a third stripped the knight's mask.

A skull stared back at him, its eyes empty, teeth exposed in a hideous grin, naked save for a few scraps of discolored skin and hair stretched taut across the yellowed bone. Merlin squeaked in shock and horror, his magic faltering. The undead creature landed gracefully, easily, and lunged for its former captor. Gauntleted fingers wrapped around Merlin's throat. Beothaich clattered to the ground.

"Astrice," the warlock choked. The spell propelled the knight backwards, but it didn't loosen its grip. Merlin slammed into the corpse warrior right after it hit the wall. That, thankfully, made it falter long enough for Merlin to kick himself away.

Time slowed as Merlin frantically reached through spells. He didn't know what this thing was, but it was obviously undead. Did he know any spells for killing undead things? No, though he probably should have researched that after Tristan—

Oh!

Smiling grimly, Merlin summoned Beothaich to his hands. The stave's crystal pulsed blue and gold. "Acwele!"

A beam of dragon fire and Sidhe magic exploded out of the crystal. When it hit the undead warrior, the creature disintegrated into a cloud of dust and a few scraps of armor. Merlin allowed himself a grin of triumph and made a mental note to thank Kilgharrah profusely next time they saw each other. Then it was back to business.

This undead warrior, whatever it was, hadn't been Cornelius Sigan. That meant that, assuming this attack was the other warlock's doing, the man in question was still running rampant in Camelot, wreaking havoc and ending lives. But where was he?

Merlin cast out his senses, searching for a source of powerful magic. Nothing. Either Sigan wasn't actively using his abilities or the man knew how to shield himself from detection.

He'd have to do this the old-fashioned way, then. Merlin conjured a globe of light to leave hovering at the gatehouse and jogged into Camelot, listening for the sound of screams.

Leon followed his prince and tried not to think about what he'd seen. It wasn't working.

Arthur had been fully clothed and wide awake when he'd come to the barracks, that bizarrely friendly warlock on his heels. He knew what it meant, of course: the prince and the spellbinder had been meeting together when the alarm bells went off. Somehow, Leon doubted that tonight was the first time they'd met.

Prince or not, he and Arthur were really going to have to talk about this.

But for now, he and his prince led a score of guards to the East Gate. There were bows and quivers on their backs in addition to the usual swords, for if what had happened to Arthur the night of Cedric's death was any indication, their only real chance at taking Sigan down was to surprise him, get in a few shots before he noticed. They needed to aim to wound, not kill, Arthur had proclaimed. We don't need another victim of possession to die.

They were about two-thirds of the way to the gate when they saw the enemy: six masked knights surrounding a man on a great black steed. His attire was as black as the stallion, and a cloak of raven feathers hung from his shoulders.

"You?" Arthur exclaimed, stunned.

Geoffrey of Monmouth's lips curled up in a smile, but it was obvious to everyone that Geoffrey was not the one smiling. "Hello, Arthur Pendragon."

It made sense, Leon reflected, so much sense that they really should have expected it. It was Geoffrey who had been sent to archive the weapons vault, Geoffrey who had received an 'urgent summons' from his family the moment he'd recorded all of Camelot's defenses against magic. Sigan wasn't just a powerful warlock, he was a cunning one as well, and that made him ten times as dangerous.

And he'd been quite dangerous before.

The two sides halted, the protectors of Camelot positioning themselves squarely between the intruders and the heart of the city. Hands grasped at sword hilts, but no one drew. Not yet.

"Geoffrey," Arthur said, "you need to fight him."

Sigan shrugged. "He's tried. It didn't work."

"Try again, Geoffrey," Arthur commanded. "You know us. You don't want to hurt us. You—"

"Reord ádumbe," Sigan said, waving a negligent hand. Arthur's mouth continued to move, but no sound escaped his lips. The prince scowled.

"Who are your knights?" Leon asked, hoping to distract Sigan for just a few more moments. Behind him, the men were getting into position.

"They are the Knights of Medhir," Sigan answered, amused. "They cannot be killed. Knights, kill."

As one, the Knights of Medhir unsheathed their swords, charged toward Leon and his men. They were unnaturally fast, especially considering the fact that they were covered in full plate armor and iron masks. Leon barely had time to get into position before one of the knights was on him.

Steel clanged against steel as their swords met, and the battle was on.

Leon was a good fighter, quick and nimble, but it was all he could do to keep his masked opponent from landing a blow. Around him, the guards were attacking the other knights in small groups, but their blows had no effect on the invaders. As he whirled to dodge yet another swift attack, Leon noticed that one of the Knights of Medhir had a sword sticking out of his (its?) neck, yet the impalement didn't seem to have any effect. That knight was as quick and deadly as its fellows, despite the fact that it really ought to be dead.

The sight was a distraction that Leon could not afford. His opponent disarmed him, flinging away his sword. It raised its own blade for the killing blow.

Then it screamed as the shape beneath the metal burst into flames. Tongues of fire gushed out of the holes in its mask, out of joints in its plate armor. Without a body to hold it up, the now-red armor clattered to the ground.

"Oh," said Arthur, staring at his sword with enormous eyes.

Leon thought of a long-dead wraith and found himself warming up to the idea of Arthur meeting with Emrys.

"Cover me," the prince ordered, gesturing towards one of the other Knights of Medhir. It had defeated all its adversaries and was pulling its sword from one of the corpses. Leon charged it, Arthur on his heels. The creature lazily raised its blade to block Leon's strike but didn't bother to dodge Arthur's blow. It too died.

An idea struck. Leon sheathed his usual sword, grabbed the fallen knight's blade. It was crude and ugly and covered with a good man's blood, but perhaps it would affect the knights that hadn't yet fallen.

Arthur swore. Leon spun, looked up towards the source of the noise. Sure enough, the prince was floating in midair, limbs flailing in a frantic attempt to beat off the chains that surrounded him. Within moments, Arthur's arms were pinned to his body.

Leon hesitated. Should he find some way of freeing his prince or should he test out his theory about the sword? Thankfully, Arthur solved the problem for him. As Sigan's magic hung the chains from a nearby building, the prince got enough leverage to use the plainly magical sword that Emrys must have given him. It cut through the chain slowly but surely, with a hideous shrieking noise that made even the Knights of Medhir flinch.

Leon took the opportunity to impale one. The undead warrior didn't burst into flames, much to his disappointment, but it made a pained little grunting noise and grabbed at its gut.

"Dragonsteel," observed Sigan, looking almost amused. "A gift from the boy claiming to be Ambrosius, I assume?"

Leon decapitated the wounded warrior. It collapsed, fingers twitching for a few moments before they went still.

Arthur paused his sawing, clearly befuddled. "Who?"

Leon handed the third dead knight's sword to one of the guardsmen who had been dueling it. The guard (Marcus?) nodded grimly as they turned towards the three undead fighters still standing.

"Another name for Emrys," the warlock explained. "Hasn't he told you about the prophecies?"

The what?

"Prophecies?" Arthur squawked.

"The Albion Cycle," Sigan informed him. "The Once and Future King."

"Never heard of it," Arthur grunted, resuming his efforts to escape. His sword slid through the last few millimeters of metal. He fell, landing squarely on his feet. "I'll have to ask."

But Sigan was shaking his stolen head. "Alas," he said, mock-mournfully, "you'll never get the chance." His eyes flooded black. "Acwele!"

Time slowed.

Merlin sprinted between his prince and the death spell. "Gescildan," he spat, conjuring a brilliantly golden shield.

Time sped up again. Sigan's curse slammed into Merlin's shield with enough force to make it bend and shudder, but the barrier held.

"You must be the latest claimant to the name Emrys," Sigan observed.

Merlin bared his teeth. "I am no mere claimant. Would you like to see me prove it?"

Sigan's only response was a negligent waving motion.

Acting on instinct, Merlin poured more energy into his shield. It was a good thing he did, for the force of this spell would have broken through otherwise.

The sardonic amusement faded from Sigan's stolen eyes. "You're powerful," he observed. "But are you powerful enough?"

Suddenly he was inside the shield, right there at Merlin's side. The younger warlock went flying backwards, colliding painfully with a building wall. Stars burst in his vision, but, thank all the gods, his hearing was unaffected. He heard Sigan's next spell and forced time to slow again long enough to roll out of its way. Still, even after dodging the ice spell, Merlin could feel the cold of the newly formed crystalline structure—a structure that would have imprisoned him if he hadn't moved.

"Forbearne," Merlin breathed, lashing out with a whip of fire. It collided with a dark shield, scalding but not breaking through. "Astrice!"

Sigan's shield broke, but it weakened Merlin's assault almost to the point of nonexistence. It barely ruffled the older warlock's raven-feather cloak, and even now he was stepping forward with a spell on his lips.

Merlin's eyes fixed on Beothaich, which he had dropped when Sigan sent him flying. The stave swiveled, catching Sigan's ankles and knocking him off his feet.

"You're good," Sigan observed, rolling to his feet. "Inspirational, in fact."

Chains wrapped around Merlin, the same chains that had recently bound Arthur. Teeth bared, Merlin caught it with his mind. His magic clashed with Sigan's.

The chains began to move apart.

Sigan's brow furrowed. Black flooded his stolen eyes.

Merlin's fists clenched, his eyes blazing gold. The chains crumbled into dust.

"Impressive," Sigan murmured, his face full of respect. "Perhaps you truly are him."

Then he was gone.

Merlin stood there panting, leaning heavily on Beothaich for support.

It was quiet, he realized, almost silent save for the sound of his breathing. The battle between the soldiers of Camelot and Sigan's undead knights was over, the enemies reduced to dust and scraps of armor, the defenders wounded or worse. The five non-royal men who remained conscious and capable of fighting—Leon and four guards—were looking back and forth between Merlin and Arthur, clearly wondering what their prince wanted them to do.

Cornelius Sigan staggered out of the shadows.

Merlin's exhaustion disappeared, drowning beneath a surge of energy. He spat a spell, conjuring chains to bind the older warlock.

"No!" Sigan yelped, and there was something very different about his tone.

"Sir Geoffrey?" Arthur asked, brow furrowed.

"Yes," the old man confirmed. "I'm not—he's gone."

The prince hesitated. "Can you tell?" he asked Merlin.

The warlock shook his head, gave a helpless little shrug. "Not without spirit-walking."

Arthur looked at his men, who were still torn between following his lead and destroying the evil magic user. Uncertainty was writ large upon his face.

Merlin felt a little bit sorry for him, actually. "Swefne," he incanted. Geoffrey collapsed. Arthur started forward, a protest on his lips, but Merlin hurriedly explained, "It's just a sleep spell, sire. If you'd prefer, I can look over him from elsewhere and send him back if he's really himself."

"You want to kidnap my father's court genealogist?"

Merlin blinked. He hadn't really thought about it that way. "…Actually, I just didn't want to leave him here in case he was still possessed and Sigan could switch hosts without his current vessel being conscious."

"If I may, Prince Arthur?"

The prince in question looked rather disproportionately grateful as he turned to his knight. "Yes, Sir Leon?"

"I think that if Sigan were capable of doing what… er… Emrys suggested, and if he was still possessing Sir Geoffrey, he would have already switched hosts from the old man to the young and powerful spellbinder who just held his own against him."

Merlin took several steps away from Geoffrey's unconscious form, face blanching. He hadn't thought of that either. With a small smile of gratitude, he looked up at the knight.

And conjured a shield on pure instinct.

A quartet of arrows collided with the hastily erected barrier, breaking from their own momentum and clattering to the ground. Undeterred, the four guardsmen—men whom Merlin, Arthur, and even Leon obviously should have paid more attention to—knocked another round.

"What are you doing?" Arthur demanded.

"You're enchanted, sire," one grim guardsman explained, "you and Sir Leon both. Exterminating the sorcerer will save you."

His name was Donald. He wasn't exactly Merlin's friend, but they'd had pleasant, friendly interactions in the past, laughing together over the cook's ferocity. Now, though, there was no friendliness in his eyes, only simmering hatred.

"My light means he's safe," Merlin said, and fled.

"So," said Sir Leon, leaning against the wall of his cell, "what exactly happened tonight?"

Arthur winced. He'd really been hoping that the knight wouldn't ask that. "I set him on finding Sigan."

There was no need to explain who 'he' was.

"Ah."

"…It isn't like we meet up every night. He just showed up in the east barracks one evening, so I told him to meet me tonight to let me know if he'd found the bloody bastard. Then the alarms started ringing, so I let him follow me to find out what was going on."

"And the sword?"

"Excalibur?"

That was Arthur's consolation. His father might have thrown him (and Leon, and poor unconscious Geoffrey, who might still be possessed because Emrys hadn't sent his light yet. Arthur was getting rather worried about that) into the dungeons for interacting with a spellbinder (and, in Geoffrey's case, to make sure he wasn't still possessed), but somehow, the guards had missed Excalibur's power. Nobody had confiscated his sword. To the best of his knowledge, it was in Merlin's chambers awaiting polishing once his servant finished assisting Gaius with the wounded.

"If that's its name."

"…It's the sword he used against the wraith last year."

"Oh!" Leon's eyes went wide. "Because Sigan is undead."

"Yes."

"So—" the knight began, only to stop abruptly. Arthur followed Leon's gaze, was not surprised to see a glow emanating from the cell beside him.

"Is there a globe of light floating around Geoffrey's head?"

"There is."

"So he isn't possessed," Arthur muttered."

Leon met his gaze, eyes full of worry. "Then where the hell is Sigan?"

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Sir Leon is a Gift"

Next update: October 21. Morgana's long-awaited magic lesson. Yay!

All of the spells except the one Sigan used to shut Arthur up are from the show.

-Antares