Chapter XXV: The Vault

"Do you know offhand if Uther's treasure vault is enchanted?"

Blaise was, Merlin suspected, used to random questions like that one by now. The druid didn't even bat an eyelash, though he arched his brow in a way that made the younger spellbinder wonder if he and Gaius were related somehow.

"Why do you need to know?"

So Merlin told him about Aredian the witchfinder, about Arthur's promise to banish him and Merlin's desperate scheme to save Gaius and how that had sort of backfired, but Gaius was safe and that was what really mattered, right? He didn't tell his tutor about the nagging feeling of guilt, the conviction that he should have done more to ensure Aredian's survival. After all, as he kept telling himself (again and again as he'd tossed and turned in his bed, unable to sleep from the guilt of another life on his hands, even if it was the life of a vile parasite who burned and tortured others to survive), Aredian was a killer. Had he lived, he would have gone elsewhere, a place without secret warlocks to drive him off, and killed someone—several someones—who couldn't defend themselves.

Blaise listened to his student's tale without comment, tilting his head whenever he required further explanation and nodding in response to Merlin's infrequent questions (most of which were variations of, "You understand, right?"). The druid was a quiet man. In many ways, he was one of the quietest Merlin had ever met. Blaise could get quite wordy in his lectures, but the rest of the time he preferred to keep his silence. He didn't speak until Merlin was finished.

"I fail to see how, exactly, this tale leads to questions about Uther's treasure vault."

"Well," Merlin explained, "after Aredian was dead, Uther ordered the knights to go through his things and to bring them to the vault for quarantine. They actually did find a couple books of magic and some bracelets inscribed with runes. I had nothing to do with those, though. I think he might have used them to frame people as spellbinders, or maybe he kept them as trophies."

Blaise waited for him to get back on topic, as calm and patient as always. Merlin obliged.

"They burned the books, but the bracelets and my staff went into the treasure vault. That reminded me that there were all sorts of things Uther has locked up in his vault that he's been using to hunt and kill our kind. Gaius and Kilgharrah told me a while ago about one of them, a horn called Dragonbinder, and Uther used that to wipe out the dragons and dragonlords." He shuddered at the thought. "I would really rather not have him have anything like that."

His tutor nodded thoughtfully. "I remember that he used to have chains that could bind our people."

Merlin grinned, pleased to have good news. "Those are actually gone now," he said. "Apparently some of them got destroyed during the Purge—the Slaughter, I mean—and Kilgharrah and I destroyed the rest of them. Remember how I told you he was chained up in the caves beneath Camelot? Apparently, Uther had every magic-restraining chain in the kingdom gathered up and reforged into that one. After I released Kilgharrah, he melted the lot of them."

Blaise beamed, his dark, long face lighting up like a sunbeam. "That is wonderful news, Merlin. My people have long wondered what happened to those restraints. Are they truly all gone?"

"At least in Camelot. I think that some of the other kingdoms have a few left, but I think that a lot of them got destroyed during the Pu—Slaughter."

"Call it the Purge," Blaise advised. "If you were to slip up within Camelot's walls…."

Merlin flinched at the thought, but nodded obediently all the same. "Why is that? I mean," he clarified, "how do those things get destroyed? Other than dragonfire, that is."

Blaise slowed almost to a halt, adopting what Merlin now recognized as his lecturing pose. "It depends on the type of chain. There is an impermanent sort that, during its short lifetime, can withstand any force from within. Before the Slaughter, those chains were conjured for the transport of magical prisoners and allowed to fade from existence once their purpose was served. The other type is the sort that Uther and his ilk would use, for while it is not as strong as the first kind, endures much longer. That sort of chain is not conjured but enchanted. It does not need a spellbinder to maintain its strength, but it can be broken by anyone more powerful than whoever enchanted the metal."

Merlin frowned. "Then why couldn't Kilgharrah break free?"

"I suspect because Uther used all of his chains to bind him. The combined strength of all those spellbinders would have been enough to restrain even a dragon."

Goosebumps broke out over Merlin's skin. "But…." He shuddered. "But I broke them."

"You and Kilgharrah destroyed them together," Blaise corrected. "Did you feel him add his magic to yours when you struck the chain?"

"No," Merlin admitted, "but I don't know what that feels like, so he probably did and I just didn't realize."

His tutor nodded. "I think you're right. Your combined power overcame the magic in the chains, and once the chains themselves were broken, Kilgharrah could destroy them completely."

The younger spellbinder nodded, accepting that as the most likely explanation, and returned to the original subject. "But even without the chains and Dragonbinder, Uther still has a lot of dangerous stuff in his possession, and considering that he has a history of using those things for genocide, I'd like to take at least some of them away. How likely is it that the treasure vault is enchanted?"

"Quite likely, I'm afraid," Blaise admitted. "You know that Camelot was built in large part by Cornelius Sigan. I don't doubt that he placed safeguards around the castle."

"That's what I thought," Merlin sighed. "Any idea what those might be?"

"No, but I can teach you the spells required to expose any magical safeguards Sigan left behind. Shall that be our lesson for the day?"

"Yeah."

So Blaise spent the next hour or so lecturing on the basic spells that could detect traps and safeguards and wards. He made sure to remind his impetuous pupil that he was by no means teaching him every last spell that could detect other spells, nor could these spells detect everything that might be there. Sigan had been a powerful mage, and it was entirely possible that he had created his own magical defenses, enchantments that no one else had ever learned. Still, if Merlin were to perform this set of spells before attempting entry, he should detect the vast majority of magics that Sigan had left behind. He just had to remember to be cautious.

Merlin thought that Blaise sounded an awful lot like Gaius, but he didn't say so. Blaise had never said anything outright, but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever Merlin talked about the man who had given up magic to remain in Uther Pendragon's service, so Merlin tried to not mention his uncle.

"So I can break in tonight, maybe," he said as they approached the little hut Blaise was using as his home. Their arms were full of herbs, as was Merlin's pack, since he used 'collecting herbs for Gaius' as an excuse to visit his druidic tutor, and he needed to bring back some plants if that excuse were to hold water, so they actually did collect herbs while in class. Merlin didn't mind. It was rather nice, really, to wander the forest with Blaise.

That, and the druid was much better at finding the required plants than his pupil.

They would have to come up with another excuse once winter fell, but for now, Merlin intended to take full advantage of Blaise's aid.

Blaise frowned at his pupil, the thick brows above his deep green eyes drawing together. Merlin blinked at him, wondering what he'd said wrong. "I thought you agreed that Uther shouldn't have access to all those powerful artifacts?"

"He should not," Blaise said, "but what, exactly, do you plan on doing tonight, Merlin?"

The warlock still didn't understand (hadn't he already given his plan?), but he answered anyways. "I'm going into the vault, casting those spells you just taught me, and taking out all the dangerous stuff so Uther doesn't have it anymore."

"What of the guards?"

Merlin laughed. Then he realized that Blaise was actually serious and laughed some more. Finally, he managed to choke out, "Trust me, the guards won't be a problem."

Blaise still looked doubtful.

"The guards are completely incompetent," Merlin assured him. "But I was still going to put them under a sleep spell."

He knew no fewer than four sleep spells now. Blaise had insisted. He'd insisted on other spells, too: incantations to unlock doors and manacles, to stifle his footfalls and make him blend into the shadows, to go unseen and unheard and unnoticed at all, to detect drugs in food and drink, to stop pain for a few essential minutes.

Spells to escape from prison were the first that every young druid learned, and Blaise had been determined to impart that knowledge before starting anything else. Merlin had replied that if he knew teleportation, he could bypass everything else, but Blaise was adamant that Merlin needed more experience with his magic before he tried something that complex (Merlin did not agree, but Blaise was the one with the magical knowledge and he could hardly force the man to talk).

"Let us say that you get past the guards and whatever enchantments Sigan or other Camelot spellbinders may have left. Let us say that you empty the vault over the course of a single night. Where are you going to put all the items? How will you know which ones are safe to handle? What will Uther do when morning dawns and he learns that his possessions have been stolen?"

"…Oh." Merlin flushed from the bottom of his chin to the tips of his ears. "I didn't really think of that."

"That is why you have me," his tutor teased. "But you do need answers to those questions before you barge in, Merlin Emrys."

"Yeah," he admitted, "you're probably right." The warlock tilted his head, his gaze going distant. "Um… I guess I could hide the items in Kilgharrah's old cave. At least temporarily. I'd have to find another place for them eventually, but the cave is really good for smuggling and other activities of dubious legality." He grinned, but the smile faded as another thought occurred. "But I'd probably have to take lots of trips, wouldn't I? And that would increase the chance that I'd be noticed."

"You would have to take multiple trips regardless," Blaise pointed out. "I do not know how many items are in Uther's possession, but he certainly has more than an armful."

"I don't know either," Merlin confessed. "I guess I'll just have to—" He frowned, brow knitting together. "But I'd have to do it in one night, or else someone would notice when morning comes. Unless…. Is there any way to make them not realize that I've taken anything?"

"Is there?" Blaise asked.

"There is!" Merlin exclaimed. He called upon his magic, and suddenly a young man with a heart-shaped face and golden eyes stood in his place. The warlock maintained the illusion for mere moments before allowing it to dissipate, but he'd made his point. "Is there any way to make illusions permanent?"

"Of course. I shall teach you tomorrow."

Merlin didn't understand. "But why not today? I want those things out of Uther's hands as soon as possible."

"But how will you know which items to take first?" Blaise queried.

"I don't know," Merlin had to confess. "My staff, I guess, and whatever's near it."

But Blaise was shaking his head. "Since your staff is the newest addition, they will be paying extra attention to it. Leave it and the items around it for later, perhaps a fortnight or so."

"Okay," Merlin murmured. "But if I can't take my staff, what should I take first? You obviously have some idea."

"I do," Blaise admitted, "but I would be a poor teacher indeed if I never made you think."

His pupil nodded. "Okay. Just give me a few minutes to think it over."

They entered Blaise's little home in silence. The druid had found an abandoned hut in the middle of the forest, three miles from the nearest road and almost four from the city walls. He and Merlin usually met in a small clearing halfway between Camelot and the house, but today their herb-gathering had led them so close to the domicile that Blaise had invited Merlin in for a cup of tea. They drank that tea without speaking, for Merlin was still thinking hard.

"…The inventory."

Merlin's voice was unnaturally loud after their long and comfortable silence. He almost jumped at the sound of it, then grinned ruefully. That was rather embarrassing. Good thing Blaise hadn't noticed. The druid was smiling at him, waiting patiently for more of an explanation.

"There's got to be an inventory, right? I mean, it would be stupid to have a bunch of magical items lying around without any way of telling which would explode or turn you into a turnip or whatever, so they've got to have a list somewhere. Except—" And here his smile faded. "—except I don't think I'm good enough with illusions to make an entire inventory. What if someone decides to read it or write in it while I have the real thing?"

"Yes," Blaise agreed, "what if?"

Merlin glared at him and wondered if Blaise and Kilgharrah had ever met. He wouldn't be surprised if the dragon had taught the druid how to be annoyingly cryptic. He really wouldn't put it past the blasted lizard. He could just see them (and Gaius too) getting together conspiring to make his life difficult.

Then the answer came to him, so blindingly obvious that he could have hit himself. "I have to make a copy!"

Blaise beamed at him. "Exactly!"

"So how do I make that copy? There's a spell for it, right?"

The druid's smile only widened. "Of course."

Late that night, Merlin stood between two illusory guards (the real ones were fast asleep in one of Camelot's many conveniently located alcoves, where Merlin had covered them with a blanket of shadows and an actual blanket, because they looked cold) and stared with some trepidation at the door before him. It didn't look like much, but there was an extremely high possibility that it was enchanted. Time for the first of Blaise's spells.

Nothing.

Merlin's brow furrowed in confusion. He couldn't detect any preventative enchantments on the room itself. Oh, there was magic aplenty inside that room, as well as wards to keep the contents' magic from leaking all over the citadel, but nothing that would keep an intruder from breaking in.

He cast his spells again, just to be certain, but the result was the same. Merlin stood at the threshold, chewing his lip and remembering what Blaise had said about the possibility of Cornelius Sigan inventing his own spells. Should he risk it? He probably shouldn't, but….

Merlin looked at the unconscious guards. They wouldn't be relieved for hours, but Merlin was right here right now and it seemed a pity to leave without anything to show for it. He probably wouldn't disintegrate or anything if he just popped in and copied the inventory. It wasn't like he'd be taking anything from the vault. And, he realized, maybe the inventory could tell him if there were any protections he had missed!

Swallowing hard, Merlin stepped into the treasure vault.

Absolutely nothing happened. It was very anticlimactic.

The vault was full of bric-a-brac, rocks and books and a couple weapons, with stranger things lying on the shelves. A few staves, including the one Merlin had taken from Aulfric, leaned against the bare gray walls. He ignored them, focusing instead on the books.

Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish in Latin, gibberish in a third language that Merlin didn't recognize…. That shelf was clearly all spell books. Merlin turned his attention to another row, scanning the titles for anything that looked like an inventory.

There it was. Grinning, the warlock pulled the thick inventory from its resting place. He squatted, placing the inventory on the floor. Then he reached into his pack and withdrew a collection of loosely bound papers, all blank and ready to be filled.

Magically copying the inventory took a bit longer than he'd expected, but soon enough he made his way back to his chambers (after removing the sleeping spells from the guards, of course, not to mention their illusory doppelgangers). Merlin hid the stolen information beneath the loose floorboard where he kept his magic book and, in better times, Aulfric's staff. Then he removed his boots and curled up for a nice night's sleep.

Arthur ran him ragged the next day. The prat was grouchy over how long Merlin had been out gathering herbs the day before, and he was doubly annoyed when he learned that his manservant intended to repeat his actions that day. But, as Merlin pointed out, they had to stock up on things for the winter, because it would be a lot harder to gather plants then. So, grumbling, the prince gave his grudging permission.

Well, he theoretically gave his permission. The reality was a bit different, for Merlin's list of chores was ridiculously long even by Arthur's standards. He was forced to use magic (don't tell Gaius) just to complete them a couple hours before sundown, which would give him barely time to get to Blaise, much less discuss his next move and learn the necessary spells, before he had to return to the castle to get Arthur ready for bed.

He ran through Gaius's chambers with only a shouted, half-coherent greeting for the old physician, taking the stairs to his own room two at a time. Gaius said something back to him, but Merlin's door was already swinging shut and he was grabbing at the floorboard.

Except his new book wasn't there.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," Gaius's voice sighed. Merlin turned to see his mentor standing in the door, an amused little smile on his face. "I looked through the inventory, and I have a few suggestions as to what you should take first."

"Like what?" asked Merlin, who hadn't had the opportunity to even look at it.

"The Crystal of Neahtid, for one," was the physician's prompt response. "The Raven's Key. There are also a half-dozen or so books deemed too dangerous for the royal library." His gaze became stern. "Though you will not be attempting those spells without permission from myself and from Blaise, do you understand?"

"Yes, Gaius."

The physician did not look overly convinced, but he allowed his ward to leave.

Blaise agreed with Gaius's suggestions, much to his own surprise. He even agreed that Merlin should not, SHOULD NOT snoop around inside the spell books. Merlin tried asking if the replacement illusions would require him to create illusory text as well, but Blaise had pointed out that his replacements would be just that: illusions. If someone tried to open them, the image would disperse. There was no need for him to recreate the text.

But, the druid added with a wry smile, it was a very good try.

That night's break-in was not quite as uneventful as the first time. Oh, Merlin incapacitated the guards easily enough (it still made him smile to think that Blaise had actually been concerned about them), and there was nothing to prevent him from taking the items right off the shelves. He didn't even have trouble with creating illusory duplicates.

It was the Crystal of Neahtid that gave him problems.

The Crystal didn't look like much, but it radiated power even through the warded box Merlin brought to hide it in. Perhaps, he thought with some trepidation, he should have enchanted the container himself rather than let Blaise do it. The druid was skilled, but he wasn't powerful. His wards might not have existed for all the good they did, and it was getting harder and harder to resist its call.

He almost jogged through the castle. Sweat beaded on his brow, trickled down his forehead and into his eyes.

The warlock ran full-out once he reached Kilgharrah's cave. One hand grabbed desperately for the dragon's scale, and he called his friend's name three times as he sprinted. He wasn't sure how much longer he could resist the Crystal's call.

Kilgharrah hadn't arrived by the time Merlin got through the cave. He stared anxiously at the sky, shifting from one foot to another and trying very hard to not think about the thing in his box. The Raven's Key wasn't giving him this much trouble, nor were the three books he'd taken and put into his unwarded pack. He didn't know if he should be grateful for that or not. Perhaps if the other items had begged for use, they would have cancelled each other out.

Finally it was too much for him. With shaking hands, the warlock withdrew the Crystal of Neahtid and gazed into its translucent depths.

Images danced before him, almost too quick to discern. Arthur in a crown. Morgana at a fork in the road. Gwen approaching the throne. Uther's face all twisted with rage. His parents holding hands.

Faster and faster the images came, faster and stranger and more disturbing. Two birds locked in battle. A flaming sword. A tower filled with screams. A staff topped with a yellow crystal. A luminous cave. A huge white egg. A battle among the trees, where men fought and died beneath the banners of their kings. A city on an island. Himself, years older, his eyes ablaze with gold, hand thrust out against an army. Himself again, a fishing net in his hands. A huge stone circle. A woman melting into water.

And then there was nothing.

Only the dark.

Alternate chapter title: "Wherein Blaise is Enlightened as to the Utter Incompetence of Camelot's Guardsmen"

So we've finally met the oft-mentioned druidic tutor. Blaise is an actual character from the myths, where he was portrayed as a Christian priest. When Merlin's mother (in this version, a princess-turned-nun instead of a peasant woman) became pregnant from an incubus, she went to Blaise for help. Blaise figured out that the kid's father was a demon of some sort, in some versions the Devil himself (and wouldn't THAT have been a plot twist for the show!), and that the demons wanted him to be the Antichrist and usher in the Apocalypse. It's thanks to Blaise that Merlin-in-the-myths didn't go over to the dark side. He gave the mother a bunch of instructions (mostly prayers and such) to purify the baby and, when Merlin was born, Blaise helped raise and tutor him. It's the tutoring bit that I'm concerned with here, obviously. Maybe I'll work in the stops-the-Antichrist bit with Morgana and/or Mordred's arcs...

A couple reviewers suggested that I do an omake where Arthur didn't interrupt the conspiracy to make Aredian look like a creepy pervert. I don't have time to do that now, but if anyone wants to write that (or just a 2X07 AU where that happens), please do. I'd love to read it.

Next chapter: June 18. Kilgharrah learns about his new smuggling duties, and... Actually, I think that this one might cover the entire winter. I have to get to 1X09 eventually, because I have Big Plans for that. So yeah, I think that next chapter might be the winter between 1X08 and 1X09.

-Antares