Enchantments: Arthur

Stunned by the image of Dragoon, Arthur was trying to wrap his mind around another revelation. Merlin was calling him,but his mind was consumed with Morgana's images. He struggled from beneath their traitorous colors and images, Gaius' words echoing in his ears. Trust Merlin. Above all, trust Merlin. He wrenched his mind from the images that Morgana had sent into motion and looked at his friend.

But Merlin was no longer at his side. He was only feet away, his eyes locked on Morgana as they stood only inches apart. She spoke and her eyes glowed. Merlin gestured and light flared as her spinning orb of images hissed out of existence. The warlock turned back to look at him once more. With a ferocious surge of deja vu, he saw the second spell overtake Merlin, surrounding him in a shadow of red, before he saw him stumble.

To his horror, Arthur understood that Merlin had just been wounded by a spell. The king knew little of magic, but he had seen men stumble in just that way a hundred times, as the sword cut them open. There was no blood but Arthur knew that stunned lack of comprehension as it passed over Merlin's face. Arthur's heart began to pound painfully in his chest. He rushed forward, ready to catch his friend as he fell. But he didn't. The servant turned from Arthur with a grim joy in his face to meet Morgana. Arthur began to wonder what he had seen.

"Let's end this, Morgana."

Warlock and witch circled each other, the murmur of the crowd ebbing and flowing around them, beyond the almost imperceptible heat shimmer of the Merlin's magical shield. Arthur could see the knights, the faces in the crowd, and then he caught sight of his servant as he turned in his circling, still intent on Morgana. There was something in his face that Arthur had come to know well during the long horror of Merlin's enchantment. The king knew that burning darkness more deeply than he ever wanted to know anything like that again. Despair and love were written large for all to see. Merlin believed he would die alone, abandoned by his king and he would not count the cost of the battle. He welcomed his doom. Merlin was caught again in the same spell that had tortured him to the edge of madness and death. Without hope, Gaius' words came back to him once more. Trust Merlin.

Knowing hardly anything of magic, beyond his prejudices and tales of evil, Arthur had only his heart to trust. He knew he trusted Merlin as he would never trust another soul until the end of time.

In Merlin's realm, Arthur's sword was useless. But he had been trained since childhood to think and to act as warrior. One did not always need weapons to fight. Morgana's spell was taking a new form, changing subtly to attack in a different, but familiar way. The thought propelled him forward.

He rushed at the witch, but she stopped him with a jolt, an invisible barrier surrounding her, and he fell to his knees,the wind knocked out of him by the surge of energy.

"Yes, Arthur," she relied almost lazily, as if she was answering a tedious toddler. Her eyes never left Merlin's face. But it was enough distraction, that Merlin's eyes flared gold, pushing Morgana back a step, as a whirlwind sprang into life between the warlock and the witch. Morgana laughed and the column of wind transformed into glowing sparks of fire, coalescing like a gigantic plume of flame, the deadly intensity of the heat drained by the wind.

Merlin shook his head and his hand flew upwards, his mouth silently mouthing the word "Draca." The glowing pillar exploded into rising sparks, forming into a dragon, a creature of dreams with wings of fire, his scales a sorcerous gold as he disappeared into a rush of steam and fog. The crowd murmured again, a few voices raised in a huzzah but silence settled heavily as tension built.

"Enough games, Morgana," Merlin's voice was firm and it's fatefullness drove a knife through Arthur's reality. His friend still had not heard him. Merlin was still trapped in the enchantment, his awareness narrowed fatefully on the witch. The king could see it in his eyes. They were dazed, faithful, desperate.

"Hold fast," Arthur shouted, with all his strength. "Hold fast, Merlin!"

The warlock jerked minutely, as if he recognized something. His eyes looked uncomprehending at Arthur, as if he was waking up.

"Merlin!"

The warlock's shoulders twitched as he stopped circling and Arthur saw the spell shatter. Merlin took a shuddering breath. His eyes shone with a sudden and dangerous joy. so beyond his previous despair, that he seemed reborn in an instant. He looked at Arthur for the space of a moment, for once, beyond words.

Morgana was crafting another spell, weaving tendrils of shimmering darkness into a rope that grew in a few seconds into a scintillating snake of coiling proportions. It surged towards the warlock, who ignored it as if it was so beneath his notice that he could gave it no attention. Merlin stood before Morgana fearlessly, his eyes lit with magic. Even Arthur could feel the power that radiated now from the form of the young warlock. It rippled from him in waves of joy. Arthur would have never guessed the strength of the magic that answered to Merlin's call.

"Gredef gwr oed gwas,

Gwerhyt am dias."

Merlin chanted. Incandescent, flaring with power, he flung his arms wide. His stance was fearless. Morgana's dark snake evaporated as if it had never been. His words held a mythic note. Though Arthur could not understand the words, he felt them sing though him. It told of the courage of his warriors, their dream of a just and fair world, a people who lived in peace beneath the white towers of Camelot. This was no enchantment, realized Arthur. This was a testimony, the making of something far greater than either he or Merlin. The crowd moved back, their faces raised in wonder.

"Cas e rofa thi,

Gwell gwnief a thi,

Ar wawt dy voli,

Kynt y waet elawr." *

The air around them flickered, as if with a haze of heat, like a mirage, but the only image that remained was Merlin himself. The spell ended with a roar of thunder and the crash of water, a shaking of the land beneath them, everything rising under a new light into a rising wind. The scent of magic was strong in the air. His power silent at last, hands quiet at his side, Merlin looked almost shyly at Arthur, as if something had changed, something wonderful.

Arthur stepped forward, feeling his faith in Merlin compel him, knowing what he had planned from the start, but still stunned at the turn of events. Arthur was unsure whether his words would bring peace or utter chaos, but Camelot could no longer remain as it was. He stood by the warlock and faced Morgana, who stood, still defiant, before them.

"Magic stands at the heart of Camelot," said Arthur strongly. Loud enough that the crowd could hear. His voice rang out as it had when he spoke of his friend Merlin. Arthur looked at Morgana with the ironic tenderness of their shared childhood. Now he could see how their young lives had been twisted by Uther's vengeance, by the lies that bound them together. He felt the pain of a brother betrayed by the sister he didn't know he had; he felt the sorrow of a king who faced an impossible and terrible choice.

"It is the heart of the sorcerer that drives the magic, for good or ill. I have no fear of magic if it is Merlin who wields it. Those who have magic will be welcome in Camelot if yhey wish to live in peace. Together let us build what has been broken. With sword and magic, let us protect our lives and homes. We can strengthen each other, we can heal the wounds of this terrible time. Let this truce light the way through the darkness." In his heart, Arthur wondered if his leap of faith would bring destruction or salvation. He turned to look at the crowd.

"My father was a good king, a strong king and I honor his memory. But I can no longer persecute those who have magic."

Morgana's wail of despair broke through the moment. "You and your fine words, Arthur. I know better. When it comes to magic, there will be only the back of your hand and the burning darkness of the stake!" Holding her fists crossed above her heart, she threw her hands up in a ritual gesture of release, screaming, "Forleosan binnan bryne." *

Fire surrounded them. Through its hungry grasping movements, through the fearsome shadows of the flames he could see the world only dimly. Instinctual fear compelled him to run, but Merlin held him still. His eyes were shining, dancing like water; they glowed gold and the fire died into ash.

Morgana paled as she looked at the king and his servant emerge from the fire spell. In that instant, Arthur saw the change come over Morgana's furious face. In the space of a moment,her anger faded and her eyes cleared of all feeling, until they were as pale as glass, transparent as time itself. Her expression became strange and foreign. Morgana was overcome with a fey glamour. Something else spoke through Morgana, and it's eyes were ancient. Her words dropped like molten gold into the clear silence between them.

"You will not defeat me, Emrys," said the seer in the quiet. "We are bound together forever, hatred and love, despair and hope. I promise you we will be together before the end of Camelot. Your fate still stalks you Arthur Pendragon, though the form of your future changes even now. You and Emrys shall rue the day you showed me mercy." She closed her eyes , swaying where she stood.

When she opened her eyes again, the power had left her and she was Morgana again. For a heartbeat, Arthur saw the sister of his youth, the beautiful, valiant, frightened girl who haunted his nightmares. He held his hand out to her in a bid for something, he hardly knew what. Then anger distorted her face into a mask, obliterating the moment.

"Show me mercy," she said through the burning darkness in her heart.

A/N: *Merlin's incantation are the opening lines from the ancient welsh poem, the Gododdin, written by Aneirin, a contemporary of the poet Taliesin, in the 5th century. Joseph Clancy's moving translation of the poem will be given in the last chapter of the story.

* Morgana's spell: Destroy in fire!