Chapter XX: Sigan's Host
Two birds locked in battle.
One was dark as shadow, with a faint oily sheen of blue purple green ghosting across its plumage. Its eyes were darker still, twin holes in the world that devoured all light. Its beak and claws glinted in the firelight, so much sharper than a raven's should be.
Its enemy was brighter: a white breast spotted with rust-red, its outer wings blue-gray, its smoky tail barred with cream. Its hooked beak was yellow that faded to gray at the sharp tip. Its golden eyes seemed almost to glow like twin suns.
They were equal in size, these adversaries, or so close to equal that Morgana could not see a difference. The raven and the falcon were moving so much, so quickly, that it was hard to see sometimes. They beat at each other with their wings, clawed with their splayed talons, lunged with their bloody beaks.
The birds had a strategy, Morgana observed. The raven preferred attacking the falcon's wings, tearing out feathers to litter the ground, slashing at vulnerable joints. The falcon aimed for the head: the eyes, the snapping beak, the weak spot where spine met neck, though its opportunities to attack that juncture were few and far between.
"How long are they going to fight?" Morgana asked quietly, forcing herself to turn away.
The other person—except he wasn't exactly a person, now, was he?—shrugged. "You're the Seer," he said to her. "You tell me."
He looked like Merlin, spoke with Merlin's voice, even sometimes acted like him, but the dream-construct was just that: a construct, created by something in Morgana's mind or magic to guide her in her prophetic dreams. They stood together on the road she had visited so many times in the past year, the symbolic embodiment of her choice between Arthur and Morgause. Well, Morgana had made that choice easily: she stood a few feet beyond the place the road split in half, heading for Arthur rather than her probable half-sister.
He (it, technically, but it was hard to think of the dream-construct as an it when he wore Merlin's face) had given her… not quite advice, exactly, before, but little snippets of knowledge. Don't worry about the griffin, it will be taken care of. Why, yes, that horrible monster is indeed a Questing Beast. Morgana should have expected a blasé answer from him just from his past 'advice,' but she'd still hoped that he would speak plainly for once. This was important.
"I don't know," Morgana ground out, frustrated. Not for the first time, she wished that Merlin knew more about Seeing or that he'd been able to introduce her to a less cryptic potential teacher on the Isle of the Blessed. "I suppose you won't tell me who's going to win, either."
The dream-construct's unrepentant grin was so like Merlin's that she couldn't help but soften a little. "That depends on them, now, doesn't it?"
Morgana looked back at the birds. They were further away from her now, so closely locked in combat that she could hardly tell where one ended and the other began. "Merlin's going to win. He's the one with this great foreordained destiny to save magic in Albion."
Except sometimes she wondered if he already had. Arthur was reacting so much better to the news of his—of their—true nature than she had expected, and though he tried to hide it, everyone in the know realized that he was very seriously reconsidering the laws against magic. If Merlin were to fail in his fight against Sigan—if he were to take Sigan down with him—Arthur would be a good king, a worthy one. Not as good as he would be with Merlin as his advisor, of course, but still good.
The magical side of things was a bit harder to predict. Despite his many denials, Merlin was the closest thing their kin had to royalty. He was their leader, their figurehead, the one who had inspired them to come together and fight back. If he fell to Sigan, someone else would have to take over or the movement would splinter. If that someone was, say, Balinor, the resistance would be in good hands. If Morgause won, though….
So clearly, Merlin had to survive his destined encounter with Sigan, because that was the only surefire way to guarantee the prophecies' fulfillment. He had defeated Nimueh. He would be fine.
He had to be.
"Finished swearing yet?"
If Arthur had had magic, his glare would probably have made Merlin's head explode. "No," the prince growled, then let loose a few more expletives just to make sure his… dissatisfaction… was known.
"Look on the bright side," Merlin advised. "At least we know where he is now. Well, probably. Assuming Gaius is right."
Sudden hope brightened Arthur's eyes. "Why does Gaius think he's possessed?"
The warlock relayed the information he'd been given: Uther's odd war, Geoffrey's suspicions, Gaius's plans. Arthur listened with a steadily deepening scowl. "Even if he is possessed, this war with Odin will have serious ramifications."
"Are you sure? He signed that treaty with Bayard after literally throwing him into the dungeons."
"Odin's not Bayard," Arthur replied. "I doubt he'll accept 'I was possessed' as an excuse." A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I've stayed here too long. I need to go back."
"I can bring you tomorrow night," Merlin volunteered.
Arthur pulled up short. "What?"
"To Camelot. I can't bring you tonight because Gaius hasn't poisoned him yet, but we could go tomorrow. I might have cracked the code by then; I have a pretty good idea of what he did and just need to find the right word. We can rendezvous with Gaius, get more information, and make a plan to defeat Sigan."
Arthur continued to stare. "But… oh. You can teleport."
"Exactly."
He was still staring. Merlin shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "What?"
"You're acting uncharacteristically competent," Arthur replied.
"Get used to it," Merlin advised, grinning. "I know I'm not the best at chores, but magic?" His eyes flared gold as a ball of light appeared in his hand. "That's my area."
"Put that out," Arthur hissed, glaring at the orb.
Merlin blinked in surprise—it wasn't like anyone was going to see them, not at this hour of the night—but obediently extinguished the light.
Arthur was silent for a long moment, but then he gave himself a little shake and went back to business. "Right. Tomorrow night. We'll need…." A scowl twisted his face. "Do you have any idea how to extract Sigan?"
The warlock leaned back against the wall, brow furrowing in thought. "Maybe you could give him a little scratch with Excalibur and see if that kills the—no, wait, Excalibur set the wraith on fire. I assume you want to avoid that."
"Of course I want to avoid that!"
"Yes, I thought so. Hm." Merlin thought a little more. An idea was beginning to form, one that made nervousness pool in the pit of his belly. "I might have an idea, but you're not going to like it."
"I don't like anything about this situation, Merlin."
"Unless I crack the code tomorrow—well, technically today, I guess—we don't have any way of forcing Sigan out of his host body. We need to lure him out with something he wants."
"No." Arthur shook his head. "No, Merlin, you are not using yourself as bait."
"But if you stabbed his incorporeal form before he possessed me—"
"What part of 'no' do you not understand?"
"—he would probably be destroyed."
"Probably," Arthur echoed, seizing the opportunity. "And what happens if your oh-so-brilliant plan doesn't work?"
"Beothaich?"
"I don't speak spellbinder gibberish, Merlin."
"My staff," the warlock reminded him. He was reasonably certain he'd mentioned it before, possibly when they went to get Excalibur, but maybe he hadn't, or maybe the name had slipped Arthur's mind. A lot had happened since then.
"And if your staff doesn't work, he'll get what he wants."
"If the staff doesn't work, I pause time, grab you, and run like hell."
Arthur's jaw sagged. His eyes were wide as saucers. "You can pause time?"
"Yes."
"Is—is that normal for warlocks?"
Merlin blushed, glanced away. "Not exactly."
"Not exactly." Arthur stared, considering. Then, slowly, like he didn't actually want to know the answer, he asked, "Just how strong are you anyways? Are you a mage?"
"Yes."
The prince nodded. His tongue darted out to lick dry lips before he inquired, with that same careful slowness, "And relative to Sigan?"
Merlin swallowed. "In terms of raw power, I'm stronger. But, Arthur, that isn't all that matters when it comes to magic. You need skill, knowledge, and experience too."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "So if he manages to possess you, he'll more than double his power and have the experience to make the most of it."
"…theoretically," Merlin was forced to admit. "I mean, we've never seen him possess someone with magic before, so maybe he won't be able to use mine."
"I'm not going to gamble Camelot on that possibility. You are not going to use yourself as bait, Merlin."
"Do you have any better ideas?"
"Can't you do some kind of, I don't know, long-distance sleep spell, or—" He paused, a frown on his face. "But we don't even know if he is in my father." The frown deepened.
"Even if he's not, that's really just delaying the problem," Merlin pointed out.
Arthur made a vague waving gesture. He's clearly deep in thought. "But you were searching for him before, right? With some… magical walking thing."
"Spirit walking!" Merlin exclaimed, instantly realizing what his friend meant (and feeling like a bit of a fool for not thinking of that before. "You're absolutely right. I can do that right now, then again tomorrow night to make sure that Sigan hasn't jumped ship."
Arthur grimaced slightly. "Then you ought to do that, I suppose."
It was strange, setting up the ritual with his prince watching. He offered to explain what he was doing, but Arthur just winced. That didn't stop him from watching, though, staring at everything Merlin did with intensity in his eyes. It was actually a bit uncomfortable. Still, Merlin had done this many times before when he looked for Sigan in the citadel, so it didn't take him long to finish his preparations.
Soon he was out of his body, an insubstantial wraith in the halls of Camelot. Teleportation was a lot easier in this form; he just had to picture his destination and will himself to be there. He appeared in the physician's chambers, where Gaius lay abed. The old man's face was pensive, worried, even in the depths of sleep.
Merlin heaved a silent sigh and left him to his rest.
For the first time, there were actually guards patrolling the castle. Donald was much more competent than Sullivan; good thing the guards all thought he had insomnia, so they wouldn't be too suspicious should they ever find him wandering the halls. Well, not unless he was doing something blatantly illegal. Fortunately for him, he was very good at concealing his less lawful activities.
He… should probably not be so proud of that.
Merlin slowed as he approached Uther's chambers. He still wasn't certain if Sigan could see him when he spirit walked, so he needed to be cautious. Finally he peeked through the wall.
Uther was fast asleep. To most people, he probably appeared peaceful, or at least as peaceful as he ever was. Merlin, though, could see through skin and bone to view the spirit within.
Or, in this case, the spirits.
There was something viscerally unnerving about seeing two souls in the same form, especially when the personalities were not so dissimilar. Both were scarred, both swirling and boiling with old rage. But one covered the other like a film of lamp oil on water, pressing it down, forcing it into compliance.
Uther's body was still, but Merlin looked beyond his flesh and wondered if the king and the specter were still somehow aware. He wished that he'd thought to ask Geoffrey what it was like to sleep while possessed.
The oily presence that was Cornelius Sigan twisted suddenly, a flare like newly fed fire. Merlin jerked back through the wall, across the country, into his body in Tintagel. He awoke with a jolt and a gasp.
The motion startled Arthur into jumping, too. "What happened?" he demanded.
"Well," Merlin said, "the good news is that we know where Sigan is."
Arthur sank back into his chair. "So he is possessing my father."
"Yes." Merlin stepped out of the circle of ash, went over to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He is."
Arthur closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, they were full of determination. "Do you know any way of getting him out?"
Now it was Merlin's turn to close his eyes. "I don't know. I'm this close to cracking the code, but I don't know if the grimoire has instructions on how to make him stop possessing people."
"…Then you focus on the code and I'll focus on making the plan. Plans, I suppose. One if you can find a way, one if you can't."
"And backups," Merlin suggested helpfully.
The prince scowled, at least a little distracted. Merlin hid a smile. Mission accomplished. "Yes, Merlin. Backups too. Now, get a couple hours of sleep so you actually stand a chance of figuring out your illegal book."
"Still fixated on that, are you?"
"Merlin."
The warlock held up his hands in a placating gesture. "All right, all right, as long as you sleep too. You'll need brainpower more than me if you want to make a decent set of plans."
Arthur grimaced but jerked his head in a nod.
As soon as his prince was out of the room, Merlin closed his eyes and called on his power. Time paused.
This magic would buy him perhaps half an hour, if he was lucky. No longer. So he'd better make every minute count.
Gaius wanted to scream.
He had thought himself so clever, coming up with a way to incapacitate Sigan and the king. He'd never even considered that Sigan might recognize that he was being poisoned.
He'd never expected to be possessed himself.
There had been a brief moment when Uther was free. The king, weak as he was from the fast-acting compound, had tried to lunge after the smoky spirit. He'd tried to call a warning. But by then Sigan had taken Gaius over, and a quick sleep spell knocked Uther right out.
The possession would have been bad enough on its own, but it came with certain additions that made Gaius shudder even to think about. While possessing Geoffrey, Sigan had been able to access the historian's memories. He'd impersonated the other man so well that nobody had noticed any quirks in his behavior. Now that Sigan had Gaius, he could do the same to the physician.
He had seen Gaius's memories.
He knew about Merlin.
He knew that Merlin was coming tonight. All he needed to do to possess the most powerful warlock in human history was wait a few short hours for Merlin to come to him.
Gaius tried thought-speech. He shouted silently for Anhora and his Catha, but they did not respond. Either they were out of range—doubtful, for they would never leave a potential Sigan host unless Emrys was there—or the spirit had some way of preventing his victims from even this form of communication.
Still, he kept trying, calling out for Merlin again and again as the night fell.
"That's not going to work, you know," his voice sighed. Gaius could feel the air vibrating in his throat, feel his tongue and lips form the words, but he couldn't control any of it. The experience of his own mouth talking to him was even more disturbing, somehow, than the usual horribleness of possession. "He can't hear you."
"Then why," Gaius sent back, "are you so insistent that I stop?"
A sigh. "I want you to stop because your attempts to find help are growing tiresome."
"All the more reason to continue," Gaius declared. Perhaps he was not as pigheaded as his ward, but he too could be stubborn when the need arose.
The door opened.
"MERLIN!" Gaius screamed.
Geoffrey of Monmouth didn't hear him. Instead, he strode up to the man he thought was his friend and asked, "Why did you change your plan?"
"I'm sorry?" Sigan asked, lifting Gaius's eyebrow in his signature expression of mild, skeptical curiosity.
"The plan to keep Uther ill but conscious so Sigan couldn't escape," Geoffrey reminded him.
And Gaius felt the first stirrings of hope. If Geoffrey realized what was going on—if Geoffrey could escape with that knowledge—he wasn't quite certain what the archivist could do with this knowledge, but perhaps then they would have a chance.
Sigan shook Gaius's head. "The king's body had an unexpected reaction to the potion I used. He will be well."
"As long as Sigan doesn't escape, find a new host, and kill Uther to hide the evidence," Geoffrey muttered darkly.
"I strongly doubt he will risk losing his pawn like that," Sigan assured him.
"So why did you risk it?" Gaius asked, suddenly suspicious.
The ancient warlock ignored him. "The king is a useful host. He can create policies, laws, wars, that destroy the entire kingdom, not just the citadel. I suspect that only Emrys himself would prove more tempting."
"Is that why? You thought I might have knowledge of his identity, so you risked taking me over. I suppose that I would be an easier kill than Uther; you could poison me or enchant me, then let the blame fall on my age. Even if I did not know the truth of him, you'd still be eliminating someone who knew to poison you."
"Yes," murmured Geoffrey. Gaius's hopes sank. Apparently his friend had fallen for Sigan's tricks. "Will Uther be all right?"
"Undoubtedly."
Gaius kept trying. He called out to Geoffrey in thought-speech. When that failed, he tried shouting at Sigan, hoping to distract him at crucial moments in his now-inane conversation with the court historian. That didn't work either. Geoffrey left without ever suspecting that Gaius was possessed.
That, or he was an excellent actor and was even now raising the alarm. Gaius could only hope.
Evening faded into night. The citadel went to sleep. Gaius and the monster wearing his shape remained awake, their shared eyes fixed on an old tome. Once in a while, Gaius would try to call out for someone, anyone, in the hopes that Sigan was distracted by what he was reading. It didn't work.
Finally, when the sun had long ago set and the chamber was lit only by candle flame, the door slid open. Merlin strode in, staff in hand, accompanied by—
"Arthur?" exclaimed Sigan, a perfect rendition of Gaius's own reaction.
"Yes," said Arthur. "That's me. Merlin here has told me a few things."
"Yes," agreed Merlin. "I did." He nodded several times.
Gaius focused all his attention, all his magic, on the younger warlock. "IT'S A TRAP!"
No response.
Sigan stood, a benign smile on his stolen face. "Swefne."
The sleeping spell hit Merlin like a bludgeon, and with similar effects. He crumpled to the ground, completely unconscious.
Arthur yelled and grabbed at his sword, but Sigan waved his hand and the prince slammed into the wall.
And then Gaius was shouting his ward's name, the word rising freely to his lips as a bluish mist plumed from every opening in his face. It hung in the air for half a moment, then shot over towards Merlin.
Towards Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever live.
If Gaius had not been so panicked, perhaps he would have heard Arthur begin to speak.
...So it turns out that I am indeed alive. I... yeah, no, this was a pretty pathetic break, and I can only apologize. But I think I've gotten over all the crap that sucked away all my creative juices, so hopefully I can resume an updating schedule.
Next chapter: June 15. Crap hits fan. Sigan makes his move. Perhaps, if we're lucky, Merlin and Arthur will be able to fight back.
Alternate chapter title (that I forgot about entirely until reminded by my wonderful reviewers): "In Which Merlin Continues to Alarm Arthur without even Trying"
-Antares