Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin (I wish I would!)
Chapter 5 Updated: Really, Uther's war against magic wasn't very wise. Now that Camelot is in desperate need of them, there aren't enough of them left for war. Or for peace? Please review!
A/N: I did my best to avoid language mistakes but as my native tongue is German there may still be many to be found. Please accept my most humble apology in advance!
The legacy of Cornelius Sigan
5. The definition of evil
For the umpteenth time Arthur Pendragon paced the vast but sparsely furnished room he was kept in. From the doors to the three huge arched windows overlooking a deep canyon. Turn. Back to the beautifully carved double doors which were not only bolted from the outside but also secured by a magical seal. As was the whole room, including the only seemingly unbarred windows. Turn, and back again to the windows. Walk, turn, walk, turn and walk again, in the vain hope to become tired enough to find some peace from his frustration. No chance!
Five days since Merlin's escape. Five days in which the Prince had tried to make the Druids and the handful of other magicians, including Morgana, realize that they were about to make a terrible mistake. To let Camelot fall would mean to allow the two halves of the Dark Force to merge into one. The Druids couldn't want that, couldn't permit it. In their own best interest they had to make one last stance to save their world as much as the human world. Then, with the Druid's help, Arthur would gain the military support of the other three realms in the Five Kingdoms of Albion, as they would also be consumed by the invincible Dark Force once Camelot had fallen.
He had shouted this simple logic at the Druids' High Council. He had pleaded with them, rationalized with them, tried to manipulate them, trick them and had finally went down to his knees, but it had all come to nothing. Again and again the Druids had replied, maddeningly calm, that they could not contaminate their souls with evil. Violence was not to be fought by violence. Evil was evil, even if it was employed for a seemingly noble cause. "Those who live by the sword will be consumed by it" had been one of the frequent wise replies which had driven Arthur frantic in the end.
Never before in his life had he yelled like that at any living soul. "To stand by and let evil happen; to watch good people die and innocent lives being wasted without so much as lifting a finger, that's what I call evil. Tell me, where is the nobility in cowardice? What's the sacrifice you are going to make for the greater good of which you speak so fondly? I tell you. Nothing! Nothing at all! You make yourself comfortable while others suffer. You will sit fat and cosy in your precious retreat while all the others pay the price. I spit on you!" And so he had done, then and there, right on the the Council Chamber's polished floor.
It had all been in vain. "You don't understand the nature of magic" he had been told. "You are young, and you have been trained to think only as a warrior, so you can't understand our reasons, which result from centuries old experience with magic" others had said. When he couldn't stand it any more he had run out of the Council Chamber. It hadn't helped that he had ran into the light of a seemingly perfect, peaceful autumn day.
Later he had tried to persuade Moredan but also to no avail. The High Councillor of the Druids had talked the most sense in Arthur's opinion but he had also denied his requests. "It's true that we will be sitting in a safe harbour while other people will be suffering" he had said "but you should consider two things: It wasn't us who brought this evil into the world. And second: While you and the other men of the sword have nothing to lose by fighting the Dark Force we would have no chance to win. Even if we were to miraculously defeat Sigan's Dark Power it would be what you may call a 'Pyrrhic victory'. We lost almost a quarter of our population during our first war against the Dark Force and in the subsequent fights against the Obsessed we lost another quarter." Arthur, who knew what Moredan was aiming at, lowered his head and bit his lower lip. "More than half our settlements, sacred districts and forests were destroyed. And that was at a time in which the powerful magicians were numerous in our tribes and other humans well trained in magic abilities flocked to us and aided us in our struggles. Since then, many things have changed. The Island of the Blessed is in ruins and the Old Religion has been almost eradicated by people like your father." Seeing the young Prince wince at that, the old Master Sorcerer raised a mollifying hand. "Please believe me I am not saying this to shift the blame from us to you. But you must understand that your father's and other people's "war against magic" has led to our people, even our children, being killed on sight. This policy hasn't exactly increased our number over the years."
Arthur had gazed into the old man's face and the bitter smile on it. Suddenly he had felt helpless. Knowing that Moredan had defeated him he had started to beg, hating himself for it as well as the old man for forcing him to degrade himself so. "If you can't help us please let me go. I can't just stand by and watch everything I ever cherished go to oblivion, just like that. Please, you must let me go." The Master Sorcerer had pondered the request for a second, than he had sadly shaken his head. Enraged beyond endurance Arthur had tried to get a hold of him, but Moredan had simply vanished into thin air, leaving Camelot's Crown Prince to the childish behaviour of kicking and hitting uselessly against the double doors. The massive wood had swallowed all sounds of human anger and despair.
It needed hours of pacing before physical exhaustion won over wrath and worries. The young man dropped to the floor and laid his head on his arms. For the first time in his life the young Pendragon, used to be obeyed at his first command, silently admitted complete defeat. He had no idea of what to do next. The one thing he knew for sure was that he would not live to see his home and the world as he knew it being destroyed. His thoughts went out to Merlin. Would Uther have believed him? Would he accept the help of a magician? He snorted derisively at his own thoughts. If the whole Druid community and the leftovers of the Old Religion didn't dare to lift a finger against the legacy of Cornelius Sigan, what should one young 'warlock-in-training' be able to achieve?
So Arthur Pendragon was once again lost in fruitless, tormenting musing, when suddenly the doors were opened. As, so far, Moredan, with or without his captive, had always entered and left the room through the solid wall the surprise brought the Prince to his feet immediately.
Morgana stood in the door frame, looking tired and utterly weary. "I think you have won after all, brother. As of this moment the Council has decided to fight against the Dark Forces, side by side with Camelot and hopefully the other realms of Albion." Disbelievingly Arthur asked her to repeat that. She went into the room and closed the door behind her. "Moredan told you that the magical barrier which is meant to shield Vayatanu from the Dark Force is created by a circle of the most powerful Druid magicians alive?" Her brother nodded silently. "Well, it seems as if their spells' power will not suffice in the end. You remember our last contact with the Searchers?" Arthur shuddered at the memory of the brief but devastating contact with the entity the Dark Force sent out frequently to identify its potential enemies' whereabouts and strength. "I see that you do. The latest projections based on the power of this contact are very clear. Almost immediately after the two halves of the Dark Force have merged, the magical barrier will be overwhelmed and everything and everyone in Vayatanu will be vulnerable to the Shadow Army's onslaught."
She hugged the stunned Prince. "There will be no safe harbour after all, for nobody. They will be touched by the Dark Force wherever they turn, whatever they do." She hadn't used this small, frightened voice since she had been six years old. "Morgause and some others do not want to die or be consumed like lambs are led to the slaughter." Inwardly, her brother flinched at the thought that her powerful sorceress sister had arrived, although it had been clear that this was going to happen. Her face buried in his shoulder, she didn't notice his apprehension. "They discussed it for hours on end and now the Council is divided. A small majority has decided to prevent the merging of the two halves, even if this means to fight and kill. They will ask their people who will follow Morgause into the fight and who will stay here to wait for the inevitable. Tomorrow we will know."
She tightened her embrace. "You can't imagine what contact with the Dark Force means for a magician." Feeling her tremble, he pulled her even closer and stroked her back, not knowing what else he could do for her. "Big brother, I am so sad" and he hardly recognized her usually strong, persuasive voice.
"So am I, little sister. So am I." Silently jubilant for the sake of Camelot, he blushed at the lie only inwardly.