Chapter XXIV: At the Foot of the Tower
Darkness.
Darkness, stretching out all around him, infinite, eternal.
Darkness, and then the scent of salt. Waves lapping against his feet, the sound gentle in his ears.
A voice. A name.
"Emrys."
Emrys? That was his, his his his. That was his name.
"Emrys," the voice called again. Male, old, pained. "Help me…."
The water receded. He stood on soft moss, the scent of mulch filling his nostrils.
"Up is down and left is right," a woman's voice sang, "and east is west, and day is night. Wet is dry and dark is light, but tragic is the speaker's plight."
A wave soaked him. "…Corbenic…."
Sunlight lit up the leaves. "…suits me well," the female voice said. "No one tries to…."
A stab of pain. His legs collapsed beneath him.
"…not allow it, Mab. And you know the other prophecies. Don't you want…?"
A woman sat in front of him, her gaze sharp and wild and fey. "Hello, Emrys," she said simply. "We'd like to make a deal."
Arthur didn't know he'd fallen asleep until a hand on his shoulder shook him awake. It took the prince a few moments to remember why anxiety and unease curdled in his gut. Then the memories came back, and he jerked up like a hastily grabbed puppet.
"It's just me," Leon assured him. The knight spoke quietly, clearly trying to not wake anyone else. "I'm on watch duty for this hour."
"Weren't you on the first watch?" Arthur asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
Leon smiled slightly before dipping into a frown. "I was, but after… what happened… Harris and I decided to trade shifts."
Arthur shrugged off his blanket, stood. "Any sign of Merlin?"
His knight's gaze softened. "No, none."
Arthur clenched his fists. He stared out into the forest, into the impenetrable blackness beyond the camp's firelight. If Sigan had carried Merlin off by normal means, he would take a torch and look for him. As it was… well, Morgana had told him through that odd thought-speech thing that she'd searched for the druids and hadn't found any, but maybe they—no, that was stupid, why would druids change location in the middle of the night? And even if they did, they certainly wouldn't go closer to a party of knights and guards from Camelot.
Curse spellbinders and their stupid ability to teleport.
"That's what I'd like to talk to you about, actually."
Arthur blinked. He'd been lost in his own thoughts and had to backtrack to recollect what he and Leon had been discussing. "You changing shifts with Harris?"
"No." Leon met his gaze. "Merlin. How long you've known he was Emrys. Whether or not he's who I thought he was, and what you intend to do about magic."
There was something vulnerable in the knight's voice, something that made Arthur pause. Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised; he'd known that Leon was fond of Merlin, of course, but not that the knight might not be entirely behind the ban on magic. A thought occurred to him. "Leon, are you…?"
"No," he replied—honestly, Arthur thought. Maybe it was someone else, someone that Leon (or even both of them) knew. "I'm a knight, and part of my job is to make sure you haven't been enchanted."
"You think that Merlin bespelled me?"
"…No, not really. But I need to be sure."
Arthur considered. Maybe he couldn't find Sigan. Maybe he couldn't do anything to help Merlin directly. But perhaps he could make another ally. At the very least, one more person who knew he wasn't enchanted would help him when the guards inevitably tattled to his father.
…actually, it probably wouldn't. But it might come in handy later on, and perhaps Leon would have an idea or two for countering Sigan. He had been head knight for a reason, after all.
And he had to admit that it would be nice to tell someone the truth, for once.
"The first time I sort of encountered Emrys was when I went on my quest for the mortaeus flower."
He couldn't tell Leon everything, of course. Morgana's magic and Guinevere's knowledge of both spellbinders' true nature weren't his secrets to share, and he was a bit fuzzy on some of the details himself. (Now that he thought of it, how had Merlin conjured that first light in the Cave of Balor?) But it was a relief to tell somebody, especially someone as good at listening as Leon.
"As far as I can tell, he just wants magic to be legal again," Arthur finished up after several minutes of explaining.
An unexpected laugh made him and Leon jump. They turned to see Gwaine sitting up in his bedroll, with Elyan glaring at him from a few feet away. "He just wants you to overturn your father's life's work. Just that."
"How much of that did you hear?" Arthur demanded, ignoring rest of the vagabond's statement.
"All of it," Gwaine admitted. Elyan nodded reluctantly.
Arthur closed his eyes and counted to five. "Is anyone else awake?"
"Yes," called Guinevere. She at least had the decency to sound sheepish. Morgana, who called out an affirmative moments after her maidservant, only sounded amused.
"Don't look at me like that," Gwaine protested, correctly interpreting Arthur's expression. "I was curious. Is that why you went and got drunk?"
"…Yes."
"Yeah, I thought so. You kept rambling about 'stupid Merlin' with his stupid secrets and stupid lies and general stupidity. I spent half the night trying to figure out how a bird could lie to you before you let slip he was your manservant." The vagabond nodded sagely.
"Does this have a point?" Arthur growled.
Gwaine shrugged. "It seems to me that if he'd actually enchanted you, he wouldn't risk exposure by letting you get drunk at a public tavern."
Arthur blinked, surprised by how much sense that made.
"You have arguments, too," Leon noted. He grinned, teeth glinting in the firelight. "You wouldn't if he was controlling you."
"I thought you knew he wasn't?"
"I was almost positive, but, well, I didn't think he could be a warlock either."
"Neither did I," Arthur confessed. "Then I found out and, well, it almost makes sense that someone as irreverent as Merlin would turn out to be spearheading a secret—no, wait, it doesn't make sense. It will never made sense that Merlin of all people is our best chance against Cornelius bloody Sigan."
"Assuming he isn't made into a mind-controlled slave bent on destroying us all," Gwaine pointed out.
"He won't be."
Everyone's gaze turned to Morgana, probably wondering what led her to speak so confidently. "Why not?" Guinevere inquired.
"Because I found help," she answered in Arthur's mind (and probably Guinevere's too, seeing as she was the one who had asked). Out loud, she explained, "Because he must have allies somewhere, and presumably they've noticed that their figurehead has been kidnapped."
Elyan did not look convinced. Guinevere, however, narrowed her eyes and asked, "Who specifically do you think might be going after him?"
Morgana's confident smile froze in place. She shrugged. "I, ah, don't know enough about the magical community to say." Silently, almost sheepishly, she added, "I'll tell you in the morning."
Somehow, Arthur had the distinct feeling that she hadn't gotten in touch with the druids.
"It's inactive," Kilgharrah observed as they touched down at the foot of the Dark Tower. "Good. Sigan has not arrived."
Balinor smiled tightly as he dismounted. Unless Sigan could fly, he'd have to go through the aptly-named Impenetrable Forest, at night, while hauling an unconscious captive (if he knew who Merlin was, then he knew how stubborn the boy could be and must realize how colossally stupid it would be to let him wake up. Ergo, Merlin was still comatose). "Any idea how far he is, Kilgharrah?"
The dragon stared into the forest, his eyes slivers of gold in the darkness. "No. I'll take to the air. You three, space yourselves evenly around the Tower."
Balinor didn't want to get close to the foul place. From the looks of it, neither did Gilli or Morgause. Nonetheless, they did as Kilgharrah suggested, splitting up to see as much of the plains as was possible in the dim light of the gibbous moon.
From now on, all they could do was wait.
The dragonlord took to pacing: four steps one way, four steps the other. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and he sent out telepathic queries to those around him every few minutes no matter how many times they assured him that they'd tell him the second they saw someone. Gilli tried to make conversation a couple times, commenting nervously on the bones he could see peeking through the darkness, but the others shut him down quickly enough.
They waited, gazing at the forest that surrounded the barren, dusty plain. The moon crept across the sky, stars circling around Polaris. Kilgharrah alighted on top of the tower, though how he could stand to touch the foul thing Balinor had no idea.
"What's taking him so long?" Morgause asked worriedly.
"Maybe the seer who thought he was being taken here was wrong," suggested Gilli.
Balinor couldn't see Morgause's scowl, but he heard it in her mental voice, could imagine it on her face. "I doubt that. Perhaps he's having more trouble with the Impenetrable Forest than we thought."
"I wish he would just get through it," Balinor grumbled. Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to get a bit sleepy. It wasn't enough to dull his reflexes, not yet, but it would be dangerous if it got worse.
He sped up his pacing.
The first fingers of dawn were stretching over the eastern horizon when Kilgharrah exclaimed, "There! In the north."
Balinor, of course, was on the south. He practically sprinted around the Dark Tower, bypassing Gilli's more sedate prowl. Sure enough, there was a shadowy shape emerging from the trees. No, two shapes: one a man-sized silhouette walking on the ground, the other limp and floating at its side.
Merlin.
Balinor's blood boiled. His knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword. At his sides, Morgause and Gilli readied themselves to attack, to defend, to do whatever they needed to do.
It was easy to tell the exact moment that Sigan noticed them. He pulled up short. It was still too dark to see his face, but moonlight painted his raven-feather cloak in iridescent shimmers.
"This doesn't have to get violent," Balinor growled. Part of him—a large part—hoped that it would get violent, just so he had an excuse to hurt the man who had kidnapped his son. The rest of him was more practical. There were four of them, one of whom was a dragon, and one of him. If it came to a fight, they could probably win. But Sigan was powerful and cunning and probably had access to custom magic that no one else even knew existed.
And he had Merlin. Unconscious, enchanted, helpless Merlin who could very easily get hurt during any struggle.
"You're right," Sigan called back. "It doesn't. You're Balinor Caledonensis, yes? Merlin's father?"
…well, he'd known there was a low chance of getting out of it with his son's secret identity intact. Come to think of it, Merlin might even have been exposed as Emrys to someone besides Morgana, someone who would spill his carefully kept secret to Uther and the rest of the world. It might be only a matter of time before everyone knew that Arthur Pendragon's manservant was also the warlock Emrys.
"Your son?" Morgause murmured, clearly startled. Balinor didn't look in her direction, but he could imagine her expression well enough: surprised, speculative.
"I'm Balinor, yes," he confirmed icily. "Give him back and I'll let you live."
Kilgharrah punctuated his friend's statement with a low, rumbling growl.
"Our family is important to you," Sigan observed. "Persuade—"
"Our family?" Balinor repeated, nails digging into his palms. "You're no kin of mine."
"Oh? Are you not descended from my daughter Ganieda and her son Balor?"
Balinor pulled up short, momentarily nonplussed, before glowering once more. "Even if you're telling the truth about Ganieda's parentage, shared blood doesn't make us family. Now give me back my son."
There was enough light now for the dragonlord to make out Sigan's scowl. "Would you really have him serve a Pendragon, descendent of the man who murdered Brynden, son of the man who massacred your people? Madness is in their blood; Uther is proof enough of that. They deserve to see their legacy destroyed."
"Merlin is not the sort of person to murder thousands of people over a centuries-old grudge," Balinor retorted.
"Is he the sort to let his own legacy rot before it bears fruit? Camelot is foul, corrupt at its core. Any empire that sprouts from a seed like that, with a Pendragon at its head, is doomed even before its birth."
"I've always thought it delightfully ironic that Uther's own son will be the one to undo his life's work," Morgause interjected.
"We seem to have reached a conversational impasse," Kilgharrah observed. "You have no intention of seeing reason, and we have no intention of letting you turn the most powerful warlock to ever live into your slave. I give you one last chance, Sigan. Free Merlin and leave this place or face the consequences."
The ancient warlock stared at them for a long, long moment, weighing them up, calculating how much of a threat they were. An ugly smile twisted his lips. Balinor tensed, anticipating an attack. He ran through the counterspells for lightning, for fire (dragons and dragonlords had some resistance to flames, but Gilli and Morgause didn't), for earthquakes and the parched ground turning to quicksand.
He was not prepared for Sigan to throw Merlin at them. One moment, his son was floating peacefully in the air; the next, he was zooming towards them with his limbs akimbo, too quick for them to move aside. Merlin collided with them in a tangle of arms and legs, tall enough to knock all three to the ground.
Above them, Kilgharrah took flight, his wings snapping open with an audible crack. It was too late, though. Sigan incanted an unfamiliar spell—"Firstgemearc, gestedige for mec. Gespræde nú ond alief mec geondlacanne betweonum hwilsticceu. Firstgemearc, gestedige!"
Kilgharrah roared his frustration. Balinor freed enough of himself to look in Sigan's direction. Sure enough, the ancient warlock was gone.
Balinor swore. "How the hell did he teleport out of here?"
"He didn't," Kilgharrah corrected him, wheeling around to land on the plain in front of the ugly tower. "He paused time. By now, he's halfway through the Impenetrable Forest."
"Can we catch him?" Morgause demanded.
Kilgharrah's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps. At least I can try." He leapt into the air again, his wings golden in the light of the dawn.
"Does anyone know how to wake him up?" Gilli asked.
"I'll do it," Balinor volunteered.
"Wait a moment," Morgause advised. "Sigan might have done something to him to weaken his mental defenses before consigning him to the Dark Tower."
Mind control was not exactly something dragonlords needed to learn about. The possibility that Sigan had already done something to his son was one that hadn't even occurred to Balinor. He almost asked, "Like what?" but came to his senses at the last moment. What he said was, "How long will that take?"
"Not long," she assured him.
Morgause knelt, took Merlin's slack hands in hers. She began to speak quietly, intently, her eyes gleaming gold. Balinor watched with his heart in his mouth.
The sorceress cast several spells, waiting a few seconds between each one. Sometimes she examined brightly colored sparks that floated out of Merlin's ears or eyes or mouth, other times she peeled back his eyelids to look at his pupils. Balinor had no idea what was going on (neither did Gilli, from the look on his face), but Morgause didn't seem worried or alarmed, so he took comfort in that.
After what felt like a very long time but was probably just a few minutes, Morgause released the warlock's hands. "He's fine," she announced. "I found a minor illusion spell around his eyes in addition to the sleep spell, but nothing affecting his mind."
Balinor sagged with relief. "Thank the gods."
The priestess smiled and removed the sleep spell.
Merlin jerked awake, his breathing ragged. He stared at them with enormous eyes, then choked out, "What?"
Balinor grabbed him in the tightest, fiercest hug he could manage.
Merlin patted him on the back. "It's not that I'm not happy to see you, because I am, but I have no idea what's going on."
"Same here," muttered Gilli.
Merlin blinked at him. "Let's start with the basics: who are you, why is everybody here, where is here, and why am I not Cornelius Sigan's brainwashed slave right now?"
"You knew about him?" Balinor exclaimed.
"He showed up in my dreams, gave some spiel about how I should join him—standard villain stuff except for the part where he claimed he was actually our great-to-the-something-grandfather, which reminds me that I need to speak to Mother about her parents—and when I refused to join him, my dream disappeared. The next thing I knew, I was waking up here. So. What's going on?" He frowned in sudden thought. "Was there some kind of amazing, climactic battle while I was out cold? Because it doesn't look like an amazing, climactic battle took place here."
"No."
"Thought not, although you'd really expect there to have been an amazing climactic battle to get me back. So, again, what's going on?"
Balinor glanced up to the sky. Kilgharrah was still gone, so they had time to explain before going home to the Isle of the Blessed.
Morgause must have had the same thought, for she was the one to begin. "It all started when Morgana le Fey summoned me into her dreams…."
Hey, look, it's setup in the form of a weird dream sequence instead of action. Just what you wanted, right?
Alternate chapter title: "In Which There is Not Actually an Exciting Climactic Battle, Even Though You'd Really Expect There to be an Exciting Climactic Battle"
Spell translates to "Time, stand still for me. Stretch out the now and allow me to move between moments. Time, be still!" I got the words from www. oldenglishtranslator. co. uk
EDIT 9/3/18: I mistakenly stated that the next chapter would feature Merlin's people's loyalty and Arthur's inevitable confrontation with his father. THAT WAS A MISTAKE. Those events will occur in Chapter 26. In chapter 25, Merlin saves an ally and Arthur talks strategy with Leon. I'm sorry for misleading you and then forgetting to correct the mistake until now. Rest assured that the good stuff will happen, just a bit later than you thought. However, update day is still September 7. See you Friday.
-Antares