Chapter XXIII: Messages

The important thing, Gwen thought, was that they shouldn't panic. Couldn't panic. Just because Merlin the ridiculously powerful spellbinder had been exposed to several members of the guard and kidnapped by someone who was apparently going to use magical mind control on him, thereby turning him into a weapon that would destroy his former friends, was no reason to panic. So. She wouldn't panic.

Except everyone else seemed to disagree. Morgana was white-faced and shaking. Arthur was in a shouting match with the guards, who had apparently been ordered by Captain Donald to keep an eye on him in case he'd been 'compromised' by Emrys's mind control. It would seem that discovering Emrys had been working as Arthur's manservant for the past year counted as evidence of being compromised.

Gwen had no idea what to do, but she had to do something. Desperate, she raised her hands to her mouth and whistled.

The sharp noise pierced the soldiers' argument with Arthur, cut through Morgana's shock. Everyone turned to stare at her.

Oh gods. They were staring at her and she still had no idea what to do. She was going to make a fool of herself, she was going to make everything worse, she really had to say something.

What she said was, "How are we going to rescue Merlin?"

"Thank you, Guinevere," exclaimed Arthur, taking advantage of the lull in conversation to regain control. "As I was saying, Sigan admitted to taking Merlin to take over his mind. That can have one of two results. If he really is Emrys, we'll probably all die because the only spellbinder willing to stand against Sigan is now on his side. If Merlin is just Merlin, Sigan can still mine him for information or use him as an assassin or something. Either way, we should focus on thwarting the plans of the evil warlock who has repeatedly tried to destroy our home instead of quibbling about whether I'm enchanted or not. I'm not, by the way."

"Is he that Emrys guy?" Gwaine asked. When everyone turned to stare at him, he shrugged and continued, "What? He's friends with a lot of you. Someone probably knows."

"…I think he might be." To Gwen's surprise, that came from Leon. The knight's brow was furrowed in thought, a line appearing between his eyes. "It would… actually make a great of sense."

"How?" asked Arthur, genuinely incredulous. Apparently he was still having trouble with the revelation that Merlin was magical. Gwen absolutely did not blame him; she still thought it strange herself. Maybe Morgana had adjusted, though.

"Just some of his behaviors, is all," Leon murmured. His pensive frown deepened. If Gwen knew him, he would be lost in thought for quite some time.

"Well," Arthur snapped, "Emrys or not, we still shouldn't leave him in Cornelius Sigan's clutches."

"If only to be put down," a guard muttered.

Morgana jerked, her fists clenching.

"How are we supposed to find them, though?" Elyan wondered. "It's night, and Sigan teleported them away."

"Is that in the knight's training manual?" Gwaine wondered. "How to track a teleporting sorcerer, I mean."

"No," Arthur growled. But his anger was fading into worry. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

Gwen certainly didn't. Merlin was the expert on magic, him and Gaius. She supposed that they could make for Camelot as quickly as possible to ask the old physician's advice, but who knew what Sigan could do to Merlin in that time?

But the thought of asking for advice, of getting help, that wasn't a bad idea. "Weren't there druids nearby?" she wondered out loud.

"Help from sorcerers?" sneered a guard, the one who had suggested that Merlin be put down. Harris, his name was.

Gwen winced.

"Is she enchanted too?" another guard wondered, suddenly alarmed. "How many of us are enchanted?"

Thus began a frustrating and irrelevant argument about how to tell if someone was bespelled, a conversation that was frequently interrupted by Arthur's vain attempts at getting people to focus on the real problem, please, before the evil spellbinder destroys our home.

"Gwen."

The maid jumped. She hadn't expected thought-speech.

"I'm going to take a quick walk, see if I can make contact with those druids. Can you cover for me?"

Gwen smiled and gave the faintest of nods before diving into the argument in support of Arthur's position.

Morgana slipped away.

"What do I do?" Morgana demanded.

Her dream guide looked at her complacently. "You're the seer. You tell me."

The witch wanted to tear out her hair in frustration. "I don't know! I've tried finding the druids, but I can't. That's all I can think of. I don't know enough about magic to find Sigan, much less fight him. I need help!"

"Then find help," her useless guide advised placidly, and vanished.

Here in the dream world, there was no need to be strong. Morgana collapsed to her knees and let herself sob, her tears watering the road beneath her.

It felt good to let out her grief and fear, but she knew full well, when her tears dried up, that she had to keep thinking. She had to find another way.

Morgana pushed herself to her feet, brushed the hair from her reddened face.

The first thing she saw was an enormous shadowy tower in the distance. It was as long and thin as a demon's claw, as black as the void between the stars. Even looking at it made her shudder in her bones.

It hadn't been there before. Admittedly, it had been a couple days since she'd come to this strange dream world, but she would have remembered that accursed thing.

Maybe it was Sigan's headquarters? It certainly looked like an evil warlock's home in the tales she'd heard as a child, and Sigan was… flamboyantly evil. The man wore a cloak of raven's feathers, for the love of all that was good and holy. She could definitely imagine him setting up shop in a place like that.

Unfortunately, she had no idea where it might be and no idea where she could find out. Gaius might know, yes, but they were still days away from Camelot and she had no idea how quickly Sigan's mind control would work. Merlin was stubborn and powerful, and she had no doubt that he'd fight the other mage every step of the way. But Sigan was powerful too, and stubborn enough to come back from the dead to fulfill his vendetta.

If only she knew more about mind control. It wasn't something she'd ever wished before, but—

Morgana froze, ice running down her spine. She had an idea now, a terrible idea that made more sense as she kept thinking about it.

The dark tower in the distance wasn't the only feature of her dreamscape. There was a road beneath her feet, a road that had forked into two paths some distance back. A figure stood at the end of each way: on Morgana's path, King Arthur Pendragon. On the other side….

Morgause.

Her half-sister, probably. A high priestess of the Old Religion, successor to Nimueh of Armorica. Morgause knew about mind control. She had to—she'd suggested using it against royalty in every kingdom. More than that, she had to know how to scry people.

Morgause could find Merlin, maybe even rescue him… and there was a representation of the sorceress in Morgana's dreams.

Morgana had no idea if what she was considering was even possible, much less practical. It wasn't like she and Morgause had parted on the best of terms. But… Merlin had told her that a lot of magic was making the universe see things your way.

This would work, the witch told herself as she approached her possible half-sister's effigy. This had to work, and so it would.

She wished she knew anything about spell creation, or even just more of the Old Tongue. Incantations were easier.

Her hands shook as she stretched out her arms to wrap her fingers around Morgause's wrists.

"I need to talk to you," Morgana said, trying as hard as she could to imbue the words with magic, with intent, with necessity.

Nothing happened. The image of Morgause remained static and unmoving.

Morgana's finger's spasmed. "I need to talk to you," she repeated.

Nothing.

Okay. She could do this. She could do this. Morgana closed her eyes, thinking back to her first magic lesson with Merlin. She'd been angry and frustrated and determined, and it had worked.

Morgana opened her eyes. "Morgause," she said, her voice steady. "I need to talk to you." A deep breath, inhale and exhale. "We're going to talk now."

Morgause blinked. It was the first time Morgana had ever seen the vision's face move. Sure enough, the sorceress looked down at their entwined hands in confusion before lifting her gaze to Morgana's face. Her eyes widened to almost comical proportions.

Morgana didn't give her time to ask any questions. "Emrys has been captured by Cornelius Sigan," she stated in a rush. "Sigan said that he's going to use some kind of mind control to make Emrys his willing crony. Is there anything you can do to help?"

To her credit, Morgause took only a few moments to assimilate this information. "I can try, but Sigan probably used anti-scrying wards." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "Was he unable to possess Emrys?"

That was right, of course she wouldn't know. "It's a long story, but Emrys managed to force him into physical form. He can't possess him."

"Good," muttered Morgause. She frowned, lifting a hand to her chin in thought. "In order to track him, we'll need to quest for the seven—"

"Actually," Morgana interrupted, "I think Sigan has taken him there." She pointed at the demonic silhouette of the tower.

Morgause's face went completely ashen the moment she laid eyes on the building. "The Dark Tower," she breathed.

"I've never heard of it," Morgana replied. "Why is it so bad?"

Morgause actually shuddered. "The Dark Tower is a place of fell magics and horrible tortures. It drives its inhabitants to madness, allowing their captors to reshape their minds according to their whims." She met her fellow spellbinder's gaze. "We need to get Emrys out of there."

"Torture?" Morgana breathed, horrified.

"Yes." Morgause's expression might have been carved from white stone. "Not physical tortures, but attacks directly on its victims' minds. It gives hellish visions: your entire family dead, your loved ones spitting horrible things to you, your worst fears come to life. It breaks everyone who's in it long enough. Tell me, is Emrys strong?"

"Of course."

"I meant mentally. Is he strong-willed and determined?"

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Morgana's lips twitched into something that was almost a smile. "More than anyone I've ever met."

"Good. Then he'll be able to hold out long enough for me to mount a rescue."

"But—" Morgana's protest died in her throat. She might be good with the sword, but Cornelius Sigan wouldn't be defeated by anything less than powerful magic. She knew from repeated firsthand experience that he could just pick her up and pin her against a wall, leaving her utterly helpless. Well, maybe not completely helpless if she managed to move something and knock him out, but what were the odds of that?

"Don't go alone," she finally said. "After Emrys forced him into physical form, he fought… I don't know how many Catha, but he several of them and then escaped." The witch bit her lip, wondering how much to reveal. She had an idea of whom Morgause could ask for help, but she had no idea how well it would go over with them. "Ask Balinor Caledonensis, the dragonlord on the Isle of the Blessed. He has access to a literal dragon and can probably get ahold of Alator of the Catha." Not to mention he was Merlin's father.

Morgause nodded slowly. "A dragonlord would help with the wyverns."

"Wyverns?" Morgana parroted.

"The Dark Tower is located in the Perilous Lands. It's very difficult to access, particularly because spellbinders can't teleport there."

"So it will be hard for Sigan, too," Morgana realized, suddenly hopeful. "He's carting an unconscious prisoner across hostile, unfamiliar territory. Maybe they aren't even there yet."

"I hope so," Morgause muttered. She glanced up at the Dark Tower, then at the woman she claimed was her sister. "I need to leave now, Morgana."

Morgana hesitated, but there was one last thing she had to say. "Arthur knows."

"What?"

"He knows who Emrys is," Morgana clarified. "He knows, and he accepts him. The second he takes the throne, he's going to bring magic back. No mind control required."

A slight widening of Morgause's eyes was the only indication of her surprise. "We'll see," she muttered. "But I really am leaving now, sister. I must go to the Isle of the Blessed."

The witch nodded. "Good luck."

Balinor had been this frightened only a few times in his life. His father's death. The Twin Genocide. Learning that Uther's men were in Ealdor. His lover and son fighting Kanen's men with practically no armor, no protection, and Merlin unable to use his magic openly to defend himself. But each time, it was like snowmelt replaced the blood in his veins, leaving him cold and numb and shaking.

Hunith's hand squeezed his so hard it hurt. "We have to save him," she declared, the faintest of quivers in her voice.

"We? Hunith, you're pregnant. Kilgharrah and I can take care of this."

"And me," interjected Morgause, who was following behind them.

"Why?" Hunith demanded. "I remember you from the summit; you're the one who kept opposing his plans."

A light blush dusted Morgause's cheeks. "I might disagree with his methods, but that doesn't mean I want the most powerful spellbinder in human history to be enslaved to a known lunatic! Sigan won't just stop at killing the Butcher, he'll use Emrys's magic to destroy anyone who opposes him. I swear it by the Triple Goddess: I will do everything in my power to keep Emrys from that madman's control."

Hunith stared at the sorceress with narrowed eyes for a long moment, then jerked her head in a nod. "I'll hold you to that promise, priestess."

"I don't doubt you will, lady."

By this point, they had gotten outside. Balinor flung back his head and roared, pouring his urgency and fear and near-desperation into his voice. Kilgharrah would hear it and hurry.

"Are you going to get Alator like Morgana suggested?" Hunith asked him—well, asked them, he supposed.

"There's no time," Balinor replied. "Sigan must have brought them to the Impenetrable Forest, but we have no way of knowing where and Kilgharrah is too big to—where are you going?"

"Seeing if I can find more reinforcements," his wife called over her shoulder.

"Kilgharrah can't carry too many people."

"Then you'll just have to select the best ones!" She disappeared behind a corner, leaving Balinor alone with Morgause.

There were several moments of awkward silence.

"What do you know about the Dark Tower?" Balinor finally asked.

"It's surrounded by the Impenetrable Forest, which is ruled by Queen Mab. The tower itself was created by one of my predecessors when she tried to carve her own kingdom out of Listeneise. Legend has it that she intended to use it on the Fisher King but fell to rampaging wyverns before she could reach him."

"If it was founded by a priestess—"

"I know how to use it," Morgause said flatly, "and how to reverse its effects, but our best chance is to catch Sigan before he reaches it."

"We'll have to head him off at the tower," Balinor realized.

"That might be a problem," Morgause admitted.

"Why?"

"The dragon, Kilgharrah. I know he would prove invaluable in a fight, but he isn't exactly inconspicuous. If Sigan sees him, he might very well decide to flee elsewhere."

Balinor grinned in relief. "Don't worry about it," he advised her. "Haven't you ever wondered why there have been no sightings of an enormous golden dragon? He was freed over a year ago, but no one saw him once."

Morgause nodded slowly. "So dragons have ways to remain hidden. Is his camouflage strong enough to hold up at such close quarters?"

"It is," the dragonlord confirmed, "especially since Sigan has no reason to realize that we're going to be there too. He doesn't know about Morgana's vision or that she managed to get in touch with you. He still thinks he can get—Emrys to the Dark Tower without anybody knowing enough to stop him."

The priestess's smile was downright wolfish. "Then we can kill him before he knows we're there."

Balinor's lips quirked up before a stray thought made him frown. "What if that just returns him to his former state and he possesses Emrys?"

"…Would the dragon know if that's possible?"

"Possibly. Sigan created an entirely new magic with his immortality. Kilgharrah knows many things, but he might not know this."

The sound of footsteps clattering on stone made them both turn. A young man ran up to them. Between rasping panting breaths, he choked out, "You're the ones who are going to save Emrys, right?"

"We are."

"I'm Gilli," he told them. "You?"

"Morgause."

"Balinor Caledonensis."

Gilli's eyes widened; apparently Hunith hadn't told him just whom he would be accompanying. "I didn't recognize you in the dark," he explained apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," Balinor advised. There was a time and a place for deference (something his son had yet to learn), but he'd never seen the point in demanding strict protocol at every moment of the day. "I take it you're a spellbinder?"

"And a swordsman," Gilli answered, patting the sheath at his hip. His panting was finally beginning to lessen; he must have sprinted to get his sword before coming to the courtyard. "I try to use both together."

"And you know what we're up against?"

"Cornelius Sigan," the warlock replied promptly. "Lady Hunith says that he's knocked Lord Emrys out with a sleep spell and is taking him off to a place called the Dark Tower to control his mind?"

"That sums it up," Balinor admitted dryly.

Gilli's hand tightened around his sword-hilt. "What's the plan, my lord, my lady?"

"You can call me by name," Balinor told him, glancing at Morgause in question. She nodded. "Her too. Sigan can't teleport to the Tower directly, so if we hurry, we can stop him from entering."

The younger warlock frowned. "Then we can't teleport either. How are we getting there?"

And Balinor wanted to laugh, because of course this was the first moment he could sense Kilgharrah's presence. His old friend had always had a good sense of dramatic timing and, well, the dragonlord had a bit of a dramatic streak too. He lifted a hand to the sky, pointing at the rapidly approaching shadow against the stars. "He'll be helping us."

Gilli turned, paled, gaped as the dragon began his descent. Soon Kilgharrah was in the courtyard, wings folded elegantly, brow furrowed in perplexity as he took in his soul-brother's companions. "Odd company you keep, Balinor," he observed.

"They're going to help us stop Cornelius Sigan from bringing Emrys to the Dark Tower," Balinor explained shortly.

Kilgharrah's eyes widened slightly. With suspicion, he asked, "Even you, priestess?"

"Even me," Morgause replied, meeting his gaze with her head high.

"…Very well then." Kilgharrah inclined his head ever so slightly, lowered his body to the ground. "Balinor, you can explain on the way."

The dragonlord was already halfway up his friend's back. "Thank you for doing this," he said. "I know you're not a horse."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," the dragon replied.

"Ay. That they do."

Alternate chapter title: "In Which There is a Lot of Preparation but Not Much Action"

The things about Kilgharrah's camouflage and nobody being able to teleport to the Dark Tower are to explain why nobody in canon saw him and why evil!Morgana didn't just teleport Gwen there in The Season That Shall Not Be Mentioned.

Quick question: while Balinor and Kilgharrah have obviously interacted in fanfic, are there any fics where Gilli and/or Morgause interact with them (and/or each other, for that matter)? I... can't actually think of anything.

Next update: Fallout part two: This time, it's personal! Coming to computers near you on August 17.

-Antares