Chapter 12: Þæt Feorþ Wæðende

Kilgharrah's old cave was dark and dank and rather smelly. The stones were hard and cold beneath his body, and the shadows around him seemed to swallow up the meager light of his torch. But no one ever came here. No one would catch him.

Merlin had compiled a mental list of spells to cast. Kilgharrah had warned him about the consequences of making an error in this process. He said it was a true miracle that Merlin had somehow managed to do it unconscious, poisoned, and without a whit of training. Proof of your power, the dragon had said, and proof of your skill.

Well, Merlin wasn't feeling particularly powerful or skilled right then. He rather wished that he had opted for good old-fashioned footwork. But he'd seen Aulfric's eyes flash red at the feast, his eyes and his daughter's too, and he had no desire to be caught and recognized. So long as he heeded Kilgharrah's warnings, this was a great deal safer than following in person.

Still, he couldn't help but feel nervous. He'd only soul-walked on a couple of short journeys, and then he'd had Kilgharrah to guide him and save him if something went wrong. Nothing had gone wrong yet and Merlin realized that, statistically, this trip would probably go off without a hitch as well, but the dragon's presence had been very reassuring.

But he knew the spells, the rituals, the dangers, and he knew the potential reward of following 'Lord' Aulfric. So with that in mind, he spread a circle of ash seven and a half feet in diameter. That was more than enough room to hold his prone body. As he spread the ash, he chanted the spell.

"Séo sáwol bógaþ wiðinnan þone bánsele, ond into þæm bánsele mín sáwol edhwierfaþ."

The circle fizzled. Merlin caught a whiff of smoke, faint and fleeting. The scent made him smile. It was a sign that this part had been completed successfully, that his soul had a beacon fire to guide it home.

Next he traced runes of warning outside the circle. He could probably have skipped this step—no danger was likely to come to his body while his soul wandered, not when the fear of being immolated kept people away from Kilgharrah's old cave—but he didn't like leaving his body behind, abandoned and undefended, with Sophia and Aulfric in the castle. If anyone came within a hundred feet of his body, Merlin would know.

"Ásende wærword hwonne hwa. Cáf wærword, cúðlic wærword, sóþ wærword."

The third step was possibly the most important. He meant to spy on people with magic, and Kilgharrah had warned that some sorcerers could sense the presence of disembodied souls. This spell would camouflage him, keep him safe from Aulfric's unnatural red eyes. Well, he hoped it would.

"Ic beslépe þæt rift þrosmes ond sceadu."

His preparations were complete. Now only the final spell remained, the incantation that would allow him to soul-walk, to spy on Aulfric and Sophia without being seen.

Merlin laid himself down, taking care not to damage any of his ashes. Once he was positioned, he put the torch by his side and extinguished it with a word. Darkness closed in on him, huge and pressing.

"Fulfielde wrásene betwyx bánsele ond sáwol. Se elþéodende feorþ wæðan."

Leaving his body felt a bit like floating. He rose up through the darkness, passing through the stone ceiling as easily as a fish swam through water. Once back in the castle proper, it was easy for him to find Aulfric's temporary chambers. He'd lived in the castle for months now, and anyways, Arthur had ensured that Sophia and her father were quartered near him.

Merlin was nearly there when a cloaked shadow caught his eye. He backed instinctively into the shadows, but Aulfric didn't notice him. It seemed that red eyes were no better than blue at seeing spirits.

Aulfric slipped past the guards easily, which was of course no surprise. Lancelot wasn't on duty yet—though once he was he would probably guard Arthur. Gwen was sure to warn him—and he was pretty much the only competent guardsman in Camelot. Merlin made a mental note to check in with the man once he'd gotten his body back. For now, he had other things to do.

He followed the visitor through the streets of the lower town, past the walls, and into the forest. Merlin was glad that he'd chosen to sneak around without a body. If he'd come physically, he would have betrayed himself a thousand times by now, tripping over hidden roots and stepping on sticks and maybe even walking into a tree or two. The moon and stars were veiled by clouds, and even if they had been visible, the moon was only a thin crescent anyways.

But light and darkness made no difference to a spirit. He could feel the slow, steady life of the trees around him, sense the quiet slumber of daytime creatures and the activity of bats and owls. He could feel Aulfric's life, too, a life that felt strangely muffled but nonetheless shimmered like sunshine on water. The man's stave had another sort of glow. It was not alive, but the wood remembered being a tree, and the crystal and runes burned with magic. Merlin remembered how it had felt in his hands, the jolt of rightness it had sent through him. He would have been able to follow the stave even if the man hadn't summoned a ball of fire to light his way.

Merlin found the fire reassuring. It meant that Aulfric didn't know he was there. If he'd known, he would never have revealed himself as a sorcerer, not within a few miles of where Uther slept, especially not when his daughter remained in the king's own keep.

The spirit followed the sorcerer across mounds and dips, over tiny brooks and slightly larger streams, past oak and pine. Finally they arrived at the shores of a lake, where Aulfric stopped and stood.

It was by far the most beautiful body of water Merlin had ever seen. The water rippled in the moonlight like molten silver, interrupted only by a half-seen island in the distance. Trees ringed its shores, their leaves filling the night with soft rustling. In the distance, Merlin could make out the shadows of mountains blotting out the stars.

There was no way the beauty was natural. Merlin would have known that even in his body, even if he could not see the magic blazing across the surface of the waters. For blaze it did, brighter than the moon and stars combined, brighter than the sun itself. It blazed with the same sort of magic that he'd seen in Aulfric's staff, in Aulfric and Sophia themselves.

Aulfric spread his arms in the gesture of one beseeching his liege. "I seek an audience with the Sidhe elders. Do tiag-sa ar idbairt do denam!"

The lake flared, magic pouring out of it with such force that Merlin's spirit was nearly pushed right back into his body. For a moment he could feel the cold, hard stone beneath him, the leadenness of his limbs, but then he grit his metaphorical teeth and lunged back towards the lake. The effort left him dizzy, but he was back.

The Sidhe, the Sidhe. What did he know about the Sidhe? The term sounded vaguely familiar. Merlin scoured his brain for any information but came up blank. Lake spirits, maybe? Because a lake like this was magical enough to have spirits.

Some of the magic radiating off the lake condensed. Merlin backed into a tree, hiding himself behind layers of bark and heartwood. Would his spells of concealment work on lake spirits?

The Sidhe took form. They were tiny creatures, not much taller than the length of Merlin's head. Their skins were blue as water, blue as the sky, and gossamer wings sprouted from their shoulders. The wings moved like those of bees, almost too fast for the human eye to follow. Merlin was too far away to make out their features, but he imagined them to be sharp and pointed and maybe a little bit cruel.

The warlock curled up even tighter, trying to make his spirit as small as possible. The tree around him felt like a flimsy shield indeed.

"Aulfric." The Sidhe might have been small, but this one's voice was deep and booming. It carried easily across the water. "What seek you?"

"I seek an opportunity to regain the immortality you stripped from me and from my daughter."

Had Merlin's spirit possessed eyebrows, he would have raised them. Immortality? And here he'd thought that they were there to kill Arthur. Everyone was there to kill Arthur. The immortality thing was a pleasant change.

The Sidhe elder (lord? King? Something important) laughed. It was a cruel laugh, cold and mocking. "You cannot. The price of killing another Sidhe is a mortal lifespan. You may never return to the shores of Avalon."

"I am a kinslayer, yes," Aulfric cried, "but my daughter is innocent! Will you not at least grant her the opportunity to regain what you stripped from her?"

"You know the price," the Sidhe said. His voice was completely indifferent. "Pay it, and perhaps we shall open the gates of Avalon for her. Otherwise begone."

A price? Merlin stiffened. He had a bad feeling about that.

"We will pay it, and gladly," Aulfric proclaimed. "On the morrow, we shall bring you a mortal prince, Arthur son of Uther Pendragon. His death will open the gates."

Oh. So much for not being there to kill Arthur. He really should have known better than to hope otherwise.

The Sidhe fluttered about, but the elder remained in place. "So be it," he proclaimed. "Give us this mortal prince, and we shall grant your daughter her lost immortality. You, however, will remain in this realm until the breath leaves your body." He paused, perhaps to smile a vicious, sharp-toothed smiled. "But worry not, traitor. Mortal lives are short. You will not suffer too long."

Aulfric bowed his head. "Thank you. Let it be as you have said."

"It will be," the Sidhe declared. He and his comrades flew back into the lake.

Merlin followed Aulfric a bit longer, but it soon became obvious that he was simply returning to the castle. The warlock picked up his pace. Within moments, his spirit was within the great keep. His initial thought was just to return to his body and get some actual sleep, but then he decided to go check up on Arthur. The prince would probably be safe until tomorrow (unless there was another supernatural assassin in the palace, which honestly wouldn't surprise him) when Sophia was ready for the sacrifice, but it couldn't hurt just to make sure that he wasn't doing anything too stupid. Besides, his rooms were near Sophia's quarters, and he should probably make sure that she wasn't wandering the castle as well. She probably wasn't, but—

Oh, wait. She was.

Sophia was just slipping out the door when Merlin arrived. The Sidhe glanced around, froze. For a moment Merlin feared that she had noticed him. Then a very familiar voice asked, "May I help you, my lady?"

Lancelot stood in front of Arthur's door. One hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword. His smile was easy and relaxed, but his eyes were hard.

Merlin was torn between staying to watch the confrontation and scurrying back to his body. If he got a physical form, he could come sprinting back here and maybe help. But Lancelot was a good fighter, swift and strong, and Sophia might choose to do nothing for fear of arousing suspicion. Unable to decide, he remained there, watching the confrontation between Sidhe and guardian.

"No, you may not," Sophia growled. There was a definite hint of red in her eyes. "Might I ask what you are doing here?"

"Of course. I am a guardsman. It is my duty and honor to watch over the royal household and the castle proper." He smiled cheerfully. "Tonight I am guarding Prince Arthur's door."

"I am certain that he sleeps much better, knowing that his valiant guardsmen are so diligent in their duties."

"I would hope so."

Sophia glided back into her room. For a moment Merlin thought it was over. He relaxed, even allowed himself a tiny smile.

Then Sophia came back out, staff in hand.

Lancelot drew his sword, crouched to spring forward, but Sophia spat a word in a language Merlin didn't know and pointed the staff's crystal at him. Blue light arced from the gem. Lancelot rolled to the side. His mouth was open; he was sucking in a breath to yell for help when the second beam hit him in the chest.

Merlin tried to cast his magic, tried to help, but whatever had let him defeat the spiders was missing. He hadn't learned how to consciously use magic without his body. But he had to try, so he focused as hard as he could on casting a shield.

The beam burst, exploding over Lancelot's body like blue lightning over a golden lake. He went flying backwards, colliding with the wall with an audible thud.

He did not get up.

No.

Sophia, smirking, lowered her staff. She strode over to Lancelot's prone form and kicked him in the side. The would-be knight didn't react. He just flopped limply on the floor, propelled forwards a couple inches by Sophia's surprisingly strong assault.

No no no no no. There was no way that Lancelot was dead. He had to be alive. He had to be! Panicking, Merlin approached his friend's still form. Was he breathing? Did his heart beat?

Yes, he was breathing, and yes, his heart still beat. The life force that was only visible to disembodied beings still pulsed around him. The light was weak, the breathing shallow, and the heartbeat erratic, but Lancelot was alive.

Sophia breathed a spell. Lancelot's body floated up until it was as high as her waist. The Sidhe opened the door to her room and levitated Lancelot inside.

Merlin had seen enough. Just because Lancelot was alive now didn't mean she couldn't kill him, and he was helpless without his body. Without another thought, Merlin threw himself back into his physical form.

The boy jerked up with a gasp. His head spun and he felt vaguely nauseated, but he didn't have time to deal with that because he had to get to Lancelot. Except when he pushed himself to his feet, his vision blurred so badly that he collapsed again, stomach clenching. He retched, retched again. Nothing came up, fortunately, but the delay made him even more frantic. Who knew what Sophia might be doing to Lancelot?

As he pushed himself once more to his feet (and stayed there this time), Merlin grouchily reflected that this was probably why Kilgharrah always had him reenter his body slowly. He would have to keep that in mind for next time—unless, of course, another of his friends was in danger. Then he'd take his chances with nausea and dizziness.

Merlin rushed up the stairs. Once he reached the castle proper, he had to slow down, pad more quietly, and stick to the shadows. Lancelot had spread the rumor that Merlin suffered from insomnia and often needed midnight strolls if he wanted to sleep, but the warlock would rather not explain what he'd been doing in a restricted area to any competent guardsmen. It wasn't likely he'd be caught, and he knew that—but all it took was one dumb guard getting lucky, and then he'd have a lot of fast talking to do.

As he made his way through the shadows, Merlin tried to plan his course of action against Sophia. She would be alone, he guessed; Aulfric still had a ways to go before he reached the keep. He'd still have to take her by surprise, though. Who knew what kind of magic an exiled Sidhe had at her disposal? And he'd have to stay away from that staff of hers.

There weren't any other guards in Arthur's hall, which Merlin had always found spectacularly stupid. One would think that protecting the king's only son and heir took precedence over some empty old vaults! But no, they had to make sure the dust bunnies in those empty old vaults didn't suddenly sprout fangs and attack the castle from below.

Sullivan needed to get his priorities straight.

Sophia's door was closed. Despite his urgency, Merlin paused long enough to press his ear against the door. Silence. Hopefully that meant that Sophia had gone back to sleep and not that she had to dispose of the body.

Merlin pushed open the door. "Forbaerne," he spat. A fireball blossomed above his left palm, throwing lurid light all over the room. "Astri—" He paused, frowned. Lancelot was lying on the floor, still floppy and unconscious, but Sophia was nowhere to be found. Befuddled, Merlin channeled more energy into his fireball. The light brightened, but it still didn't illuminate Sophia. She wasn't in the room.

That was extremely odd, but Merlin decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He rushed over to Lancelot, dropping to his knees when he reached the other man's side. One pale hand reached for the guard's pulse point. The other hovered in front of his mouth, feeling for air as it left Lancelot's mouth.

Breath ghosted across Merlin's hand, faint but still present.

A wide smile threatened to split the warlock's face. Alive, Lancelot was alive. He just had to get his friend to Gaius and then they could figure out what to do.

Except that was when the door opened.

Merlin jumped, whirling around. His fireball spluttered. Panic fluttered in his chest at the knowledge that someone had seen him using magic. Then he realized that it was only Sophia, who would have probably learned about his magic anyways as he attempted to (and hopefully succeeded) save Arthur from her attempt on his life. For a few moments, the manservant was actually relieved.

Then he remembered that Sophia was an enemy, she was dangerous, and—yes—she was indeed leveling her staff at him. Blue light gathered on its crystal.

Merlin crouched, muscles bunching, as he instinctively prepared to dodge. Except Lancelot was behind him, and what would happen if the blue beam hit him? Could his friend survive another blast?

Hesitation slowed him. By the time Sophia loosed her attack, it was too late even to throw up a quick shield.

Blue lightning crackled around Merlin's body, spreading pain wherever it touched. He thought he cried out, but he couldn't hear anything. His senses were gone, sight and smell as well as hearing. Only touch—only pain—remained.

His body slammed against something hard and solid. The wall, probably. His head snapped back, colliding with the stone.

Blackness.

When he woke up, it was to Gwen's frantic shaking. Merlin tried to sit but banged his head against… Sophia's bedframe? What was that about?

Blinking blearily, the warlock tried to regain his bearings. Gaius was there, leaning over Lancelot with a worried expression. Morgana was there as well, directing a trio of guardsmen to look through the room.

"Merlin!" Gwen exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

"Hi," Merlin said, scooting away from the bed. "What's going—oh. Oh!"

It all came back in a flash: following Aulfric, the Sidhe at the lake, Sophia attacking Lancelot, Sophia attacking him, and, of course, the sadly unsurprising attempt on Arthur's life.

Merlin scrambled to his feet. "They're after Arthur," he blurted. "Where is he?"

"Missing," Gwen said. Her dark eyes were huge with fear. "That's why we came here—well, it's one of the reasons. There was another, but this one is a bit—a lot—more pressing than—Merlin? Merlin, where are you going?" For Merlin, having a very good idea of where the Sidhe had brought Arthur, was sprinting out the door.

He just hoped that he wasn't too late.

Chapter title: The Wandering Spirit

First spell: "The soul dwells within the body, and to its dwelling my soul shall return."

Second spell: "Send warning when anyone comes. Swift warning, sure warning, true warning."

Third spell: "I don the cloak of smoke and shadows."

Fourth spell: "Loosen the tethers twixt body and soul. The living spirit wanders."

Aulfric's spell (taken from the wiki, as it's what he said in the episode): "I come to make you an offering!"

I made up Merlin's wandering spells and used the translator at oldenglish translator. co. uk (just take out the spaces). If you recall, Kilgharrah was teaching Merlin to do this after the spiders thing. Yay for continuity!

Of course I didn't kill Lancelot. He has a lot of legend left.

Next update: November 20. Merlin vs. Sophia and Aulfric and another instance of continuity.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Sir Lancelot and the Mighty Emrys are Beaten Up by a Slip of a Girl Roughly Two-thirds Their Weight"

-Antares