Chapter XXII: Feint and Draw
"Are you sure that he can't see through illusions?" Arthur asked quietly, tightening his grip on Beothaich.
"Not without the proper spell," Merlin replied. "Or at least not when he's possessing Gaius. He might be able to once we get him out, though."
"If he does—"
"If he does, I'll just have to act even more quickly," Merlin replied, his lips pressed together.
Arthur scowled. "And you're still not certain if the weapons can kill him?"
"You're the one who wondered if they could," Merlin pointed out.
At some point during the emergency planning session after Merlin's second spirit-walking expedition discovered that Gaius was possessed, Arthur had raised an unfortunately valid point: while dragon-burnished weapons worked on conventional undead, Cornelius Sigan was something entirely new. Maybe whatever magic he'd used for his immortality was immune to dragonfire. Yes, Sophia had said that Excalibur could kill him, but how could she know for certain when a being like Sigan had never before existed? Or perhaps the weapons needed to attack Sigan's anchor lest his spirit regenerate. They'd think they had defeated him only for a blue mist to seep into Merlin's body in the dead of night.
It was probably a stupid doubt. They both knew that. But it had nonetheless wormed its way into their minds, had inspired this part—all parts, really—of their probably-foolish scheme.
"But you are certain that he won't be able to see through these illusions," Arthur continued, gesturing to the glamor hiding his face, the glamor that made him look like Merlin.
The warlock managed to not roll his eyes. Technically Arthur's eyes, he supposed, as he was wearing a glamor too. "Yes."
Arthur grimaced before donning an expression of pure determination. Merlin, looking at him, blinked. Oh. That was what he looked like when he got all pigheaded.
"Then let's do this," Arthur muttered, clutching Beothaich in his hands. "I'll go first."
Merlin nodded.
The prince opened the door to Gaius's chambers, strode inside. To Gaius and Sigan, it looked like Merlin was the one to enter.
Unless Merlin was wrong and spirits like Cornelius Sigan actually could see through illusion spells. Then they were in a great deal of trouble.
But he couldn't. Sigan-as-Gaius inquired after why Merlin-who-he-thought-was-Arthur was there. Then, smiling benignly, he cast a sleep spell.
Arthur dropped like a stone. Merlin yelped, instinctively grabbing at Excalibur. Sigan waved his hand, knocking the younger warlock up against the wall. He then proceeded to completely ignore 'Prince Arthur,' seeping out of Gaius's mouth and eyes and nose as a softly glowing blue mist.
"Swefne," Merlin whispered, directing the spell at his unconscious friend. There was a possibility—a high possibility, in fact—that the sleep spell would do nothing. There was also a possibility that it would slow Sigan down, interfering with the mechanics of possession or affecting his ability to sift through victims' memories or keeping him from moving Arthur's body for a few crucial seconds. Quietly, so as to prevent the Sigan-mist from hearing (it didn't have ears, but Merlin and his fellow code-interpreter Gwen had only begun to scratch the surface of the grimoire and had no idea what senses the spirit might have), he began his next working.
When Sigan had been creating his immortality spell, he hadn't really thought of possession as a long-term survival strategy. Instead, he'd devised a way to create a new body for himself. He hadn't thought about the potential uses of possession until much later, possibly even until his not-quite-death.
The spell, thankfully and surprisingly, was actually rather straightforward. It didn't require extensive setup or planetary conjugations or anything, just a few herbs and the four elements. Those ingredients were easy enough to acquire in the physician's chambers, especially since Merlin had finally figured out Gaius's system of categorization. A bit of telekinesis and a lit candle, and the spell was ready.
Gaius's frantic shouting had petered off into confused silence, which became a sharp inhale of realization when Merlin dropped his illusion. "Alator!" he cried silently. He called Beothaich back to him—he might need the energy boost—then gave his entire attention to the spell.
"Deofolscin fram flœsce ond flœsc fram deofolscine, onwac. Heortscrœf ond blod, ban ond hrycgmearg, onwac. Orpung aldorbanan, onwac!"
The spirit flowed out of Arthur, a great plume of blue smoke. Though it had no eyes, the cloud's gaze fixed on Merlin.
"Cornelius Sigan," Merlin cried, "þú borgfæst blode ond bane ond orpunge aldorbanan."
The spirit recognized the incantation. He surged towards Merlin, towards his mouth and eyes.
"Onwac!" Merlin shouted one final time.
There was a sound like a river rushing over a cliff. The air rushed all throughout the room, charged with an electric intensity. Beothaich flared with yellow light, its crystal nearly as incandescent as the sun. Merlin's eyes closed almost involuntarily, but his vision was still alight with that golden blaze.
The light died down. Something thunked; someone gasped. Merlin opened his eyes.
There was a new person in the room, a pale naked man with gray-streaked black hair and a beard to match. His eyes were dark and wide and stunned.
Merlin grinned, then passed out.
Arthur came to all at once, his muscles jerking as one. He gazed around wildly, taking in a scene of chaos in what had once been Gaius's chambers.
The old physician half-dragged him to his feet. "Are you all right?" he demanded. "Any side effects from the possession?"
Arthur shook his head. "I was unconscious. I don't remember anything."
Gaius's smile was wan and pained. "Then you are lucky indeed."
"Where is Merlin?" Arthur demanded.
"Not now," said a man Arthur didn't know, probably the Alator person who had apparently sworn fealty to his manservant. "We need to flee, now."
Gaius grimaced but nodded.
The room was destroyed. Two walls had been destroyed entirely. Splintered shelves and shards of glass lay everywhere. A small fire smoldered nearby a rubble pile. Three bodies lay crumpled in the debris.
"They don't know I'm your ally," Gaius assured them. "I'll stay here. You get Merlin away from here."
"But—" began Arthur.
Gaius collapsed onto a destroyed table and closed his eyes, obviously playing unconsciousness. Alator stretched out his hand and muttered something in the language of sorcery. A form flew over to them. Merlin, out cold. The Catha pulled up his hood and pressed Merlin's face against his chest. He, Arthur, and a third Catha ran.
"You know the citadel better than I," the spellbinder's voice said in Arthur's head. "Lead the way."
Arthur nodded. He led them towards the closest secret passage. Unfortunately, it was already blocked.
The prince suppressed a curse and changed direction for another out-of-the-way corridor. The third Catha stopped him, grabbing him by the arm. "I hear something."
Arthur swallowed a curse.
Why the hell had they decided to hire a competent captain?
…Oh, right. They needed one. It was just very inconvenient from this side of the law.
Suddenly he realized why Merlin was always so cool towards Donald.
Merlin. Bizarre as it seemed, Merlin was probably the most accomplished criminal he knew. What would Merlin do in this situation?
Arthur ducked into one of the conveniently located alcoves. Alator and the other Catha followed him. In a low voice, the prince asked, "Can either of you teleport?"
"Not after fighting Sigan and enchanting the door," Alator murmured back. That explained why the guards hadn't already been swarming through Gaius's chambers.
"Um." What else could Merlin do? "Pause time?"
The other Catha's jaw sagged. "Embries can pause time?"
"No," said Alator.
What else, what else? "Illusions. Can you make us invisible or something?"
They exchanged glances. "Only for short periods when the guards are here," Alator finally told him. "Driving off Sigan took a great deal of energy."
The next few hours were some of the tensest of Arthur's life. They had to stay as quiet as possible, their ears straining. The younger Catha managed to fall asleep, his way of regaining energy. That left Alator in charge of illusions. Whenever they heard footsteps, Alator's eyes flashed gold as he mouthed his arcane words.
Finally, Merlin stirred. Unlike Arthur, he regained consciousness slowly, blinking at them in bleary confusion.
The prince pressed a finger to his lips.
Memory returned. Merlin's eyes went wide. "What's going on?"
"You successfully bound Sigan to a new form, but we were unable to contain him. He escaped, and now we are laying low to avoid the guardsmen of Camelot."
Merlin sighed silently. "I miss Sullivan." He closed his eyes. "…How many of your men died?"
Alator held up three fingers. Merlin flinched. "I'm so sorry." He glanced at the sleeping Catha. "Is he all right? I don't know much healing magic yet, but I have some basic medical training. And what about Gaius?"
"He's all right, and Gaius stayed behind of his own free will. He believes that is the best way to retain his position. Yours as well, I believe."
Merlin grimaced. His eyes glinted golden in the faint light of the nearest (but still relatively far away) light. After several moments of silence, a smile broke out across the warlock's face. "I just talked with him. He's fine."
Arthur and Alator nodded. The prince strained his ears. Hearing nothing, he decided to risk it. "Can you get us out of here?"
The warlock chewed his lip, considering. "Binding Sigan to flesh took a lot out of me. I can sneak us invisibly to Kilgharrah's old cave, but then I'll need a few hours more sleep before I can get us back to Tintagel. I can try to send word to Morgana, though, ask her and Gwen to buy us time."
Arthur nodded. Alator moved to gently shake his comrade awake.
Fortunately, the search was already dying down—or, more accurately, moving outside the castle into the surrounding city. They didn't encounter any guards on their way down to the dragon's old lair, where Merlin almost immediately collapsed against the wall.
"Are you all right, Lord Embries?"
"Not a lord," he muttered sulkily, "and yes, I'm fine. Just tired, but… Arthur, can you hand me Beothaich? Thanks." He forced himself to a sitting position, still gray-faced but looking a bit better, the staff across his lap. "Gods, that was a difficult spell."
"I am amazed that you were able to perform it," Alator admitted. He looked sincere, not like a flattering courtier, and Arthur found himself wondering just how difficult that spell actually had been. He almost asked, then decided that no, he'd really rather not know how close they'd come to the absolute destruction of Camelot.
"Alator and I can stay here for the rest of the night," the other Catha said solemnly. "I think, that if we pool our power with what remains of yours, we could return you and the king to Tintagel."
Arthur frowned. He was a prince still, not a king, and normally he would have pointed that out. He wasn't quite certain what stopped him. Perhaps it was his own tiredness; perhaps it was the pure exhaustion on Merlin's face. Or maybe he just knew better than to remind them of his father's current status.
It occurred to Arthur quite suddenly that Alator and his men were more than capable of assassinating Uther, of making him king for real. Yet something—someone—prevented them from doing so.
The prince suppressed a snort. Sure, Merlin, you're not magical royalty at all.
….gods, Merlin was magical royalty. How was this his life?
"But then you won't have anything left if the guards find you," Merlin pointed out. "I think… Arthur, there's still a couple of hours until dawn. I can take a nap, recover, and then I'll hopefully have enough energy to transport us both back."
Alator and his man (now that they weren't in danger of being overheard, Arthur should really ask for the fellow's name) exchanged dubious glances. Merlin glared at them. "I replenish quickly, especially with Beothaich around. I'll be fairly useless for half a day, probably, but we'll be safe in Tintagel."
"Unless Sigan decides to attack while you're vulnerable," Arthur interjected.
Merlin blinked. "Oh. Right. Sigan. I was talking about the guards, but that's… actually a good point. Um." He looked back at the Catha. "Was he injured when he escaped?"
Alator nodded.
"Badly enough that he'll be out of commission for awhile, too?"
"I believe so, yes. But, my lord—" Merlin winced at the title "—let us lend you our power. We are in much less danger here, where no one knows we are, than you and the king in Tintagel."
Merlin hesitated for a long moment, then nodded. "Sounds like a plan to me."
It had been quite some time since Gaius was this nervous when alone in Uther's presence. If Merlin was with him and the king, yes, he worried. There was always a chance that his ward would do something ridiculously magical, or that Uther would suddenly recognize Balinor in the youth's face, or that the illusion spell would disappear and Merlin's eyes would revert to their natural gold. He knew that these fears were (mostly) irrational, but had never been able to completely silence them.
Now, though, he was afraid for himself. Uther had never been a merciful man, and Gaius had just confessed to poisoning him. It was for the best of reasons, of course, but it was still poison.
Uther was silent for a long moment. Finally he let out a breath. "I never thought that I would have to thank someone for poisoning me."
The tension drained from Gaius's shoulders.
Donald, the captain of the guard, opened his mouth as if to protest. He was there to hear Gaius's statement about his interactions with Sigan and had probably not expected 'I realized Uther was possessed and gave him terrible indigestion' as the reason for the physician's predicament.
"I wish I knew how the false Emrys and his comrades found out that I was possessed," Gaius said, feeling that the silence was stretching out too long.
"Perhaps they were watching you," Donald suggested. "You have a… certain reputation… among their kind."
A light flickered in Uther's eyes. "Perhaps…." He turned that gaze on Gaius, looking speculative. Gaius made a mental note to watch out for guardsmen following him and to make all his magic-related communications in thought-speech. He'd have to warn Merlin, too.
The debriefing ended soon after that, and Gaius began the journey back to his quarters. He couldn't quite believe that his spur-of-the-moment decision to stay behind had turned out so well. Was Uther seriously not suspicious at all? Donald was, he thought, but the captain of the guard would have to tread carefully.
No wonder Merlin was so brazen when it was surprisingly, frighteningly easy to get away with things in Camelot.
Then he was home, and exhaustion took over. Gaius closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Cornelius Sigan stood in the tomb of the Knights of Medhir. It was ancient, covered in cobwebs and dust, the stone cracked, the warnings on the wall faded. It was ancient, yet it was younger than him. The Knights had been men of Camelot, born and bred in his citadel, before they were turned. So many things had changed; sometimes he could hardly recognize the world around him.
That was good. It made the destruction of his life's work—of Bruta's life's work, he reminded himself, domain of Bruta's murdering heirs—much easier, and not just because the citadel's wards were faded.
But not now. For now, he had to think, and plan, and make his decisions.
Merlin Caledonensis was Emrys. There was no doubt of this in his mind. No one else could have used an untried, purely theoretical spell to force him into his body, especially not within such a short timeframe. The boy radiated power. Of course Cornelius had wanted that for himself.
Now, though….
He did not want to kill Merlin. It wasn't because he was Emrys; if anything, that was a reason to not let him live, now that Cornelius had no chance of claiming that power for himself. The boy was dangerous.
But.
The old physician knew more about Merlin than even he had realized. Gaius might not have realized the significance of the story his ward had told him once, but Cornelius did.
Perhaps, the mage thought, perhaps he could be persuaded. It was Emrys's destiny to build Albion; he did not dispute that. But why not build that great nation on the ruins of a lesser kingdom? Destroy Camelot, destroy Bruta's heirs, and found a new dynasty. Why should that kinslayer's grandson rule? Literally anyone else had to be a better candidate.
Surely Merlin would see.
Cornelius nodded to himself. Yes. He would make it so.
One way or another, he would make his grandson see sense.
I am so, so sorry for not getting this up on time. The internet freaking broke on me, and this is the first time I've been online since Thursday. (I had work.)
Next: July 6. Merlin learns him some things.
Spell: "Spirit from flesh to flesh from spirit, arise. Heart and blood, bone and marrow, arise. Breath of life, arise! Cornelius Sigan, you are bound to blood and bone and breath of life. Arise!"
Alternate chapter title: "In Which Arthur Admits (if only to Himself) that Merlin may or may not be a Criminal Genius"