King Arthur made his way alone through the torch-lit passages Morgana's slaves had dug beneath Ismere. The snow-covered tower above insulated the underground tunnels and sweat trickled down his back, increasing the itch caused by the rough, unfamiliar fabric of his borrowed Saxon garments. Smoke collected in the motionless air. He blinked to clear his eyes. Passageways branched off in every direction and he wondered which way his idiot servant had gone in pursuit of Morgana's dragon. The ground was too rocky to determine which tunnel the dragon and the fool chasing it had taken.

"Merlin!" Arthur hoped the Saxons who had cleared out before the dragon's appearance were not within earshot. "Merlin?"

He paused in the centre of a large, well-lit area.

A voice from behind sent chills down his spine. "How good of you to save me the trouble of finding you."

For an instant, Arthur froze at Morgana's taunt. Then he half-spun and grabbed for his sword in a single movement hoping to swing at the black-haired, black-garbed sorceress before she blasted him. His heart plummeted when his hand closed on empty air. He had smuggled his sword to Percival so he and the other enslaved knights could stage an uprising against their Saxon captors.

"Oh dear, how remiss of you!" Morgana sneered. "Your bravery is matched only by your stupidity. What on earth did you think you would achieve by coming here?"

In the three years since her last defeat, Arthur had begun to hope Morgana was finally gone. Her powers had failed her at the moment she tried to kill him at their last meeting; no such fortunate event would be repeated now.

He slowly turned to face the derision which twisted her beautiful features. "I'm here to free my men," he said.

Admiration passed over Mordred's face. The curly-haired, blue-eyed boy who had been with the slave traders now stood at the sorceress' right hand. It was not surprising he was on good terms with Morgana given she had saved his life as a boy, albeit with Arthur's help. Apparently Mordred felt his debt to the king was settled by having ensured neither Arthur nor his servant were killed at the time of their capture and by treating them decently while they were captive.

"Fleoge." Morgana's knife sprang through the air. "This time it seems there really is no way out."

The blade followed Arthur when he tried to duck, then hovered a handspan from his throat. It danced slowly in the air before it struck with lightning speed to stab him in his left side and send him to his knees.

He stalled for time. "I'm sorry for what our father did to you."

"Uther was never my father!"

"But we are brother and sister," Arthur said, pleased to rile her. If she was angry enough her distraction might allow him to escape. He braced a hand against the rocky wall to climb back to his feet, grimacing as the movement aggravated his injury.

"Funny how you choose to remember that with my dagger at your back," she sneered.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he straightened and looked her in the eye. The blade hovered in front of him though he did not glance at it.

"What happened to you, Morgana? As a child you were so kind, so compassionate." Only the barest trace of that girl remained. Her previously well-groomed black hair was a dirty tangle, her expensive gowns were replaced by a tattered black dress with torn lace and ripped hem. But her eyes had changed the most, a flash of what might have been remorse quickly replaced by a hateful glare.

"I grew up."

The floating blade buried itself in his left leg and he crumpled, landing on his back against the rough-hewn rock wall.

"You are right to cower before my hand," Morgana said. "I am more powerful than you can imagine."

"And yet with all that you choose to do nothing but hate."

She merely laughed. "Uther taught me well." The spite in her tone chilled his blood. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon."

At that moment his idiot servant ran directly into danger with typical disregard for his own safety. "Arthur!"

Morgana sent a blast of magic at the dark-haired fool that slammed him against the stone wall. Arthur winced when Merlin's head cracked against the hard rock. The young man fell to the ground, stunned.

The king glanced at Mordred, wondering if he might realize the depth of Morgana's madness and help them again. The conflicted look on the boy's face did not give Arthur much hope of rescue for either himself or his friend. Merlin was in danger, helpless, because he refused to leave Arthur's side.

"No! Morgana... Please..."

The sorceress' response to his entreaty was a flick of her hand. Her power rammed into him with the force of a mace. He lay dazed on the floor of the rocky chamber. Hopefully his death appeased her so she would allow Merlin to leave with his life.

"Don't speak, dear brother. It's too late."

"Hine –"

The spell Arthur knew would result in his painful death was cut off mid-sentence.

Wincing through his pain, Arthur tried to focus on his sister. She had fallen to her knees, her face turned away from him, staring up at the dark-haired boy who stood on her right, a knife clasped in his fist.

"Mordred?" she gasped weakly. Her left hand clutched her right side.

Arthur wondered at the hurt which laced her voice, he had thought her beyond any ability to care for another person. Then she stood and her hand dropped from her wound. There was no bleeding from her injury, proof no mortal blade could strike her down.

He could not see her expression, but a look of horror come over Mordred's face and he took several steps back from her. Morgana reached out to close her fist on empty air, clenching her fingers as though choking him. The boy paled and dropped his weapon to grasp uselessly at his throat.

Then Morgana was thrown backward through the air to smash against the rock wall of the cavern, as she had done to Merlin. She crumpled in a heap on the floor. Mordred must have strong magic to strike the High Priestess down, but he looked bewildered as he stood staring at Merlin.

Arthur's servant lay where he had fallen. He must have reached out because Arthur saw his hand drop back to his side, his eyes unfocused, and his head lolled back in exhaustion.

The king struggled upright. Mordred knelt beside Arthur to support him and help him walk. They paused long enough for Merlin to drag himself to his feet, then the three of them escaped as quickly as possible.

They made slow progress despite their haste. Mordred coughed as he sucked in air that had been briefly denied him. Arthur was limping. He leaned heavily on Mordred, his left arm looped over the boy's shoulders. Merlin staggered, one hand rubbing the back of his head. He lurched sideways once and put out a hand to keep from stumbling into the rough-hewn rock wall.

To Arthur's great relief, they met up in the passageway with several of his knights, an injured but recovering Gwaine in tow. Percival regarded Mordred with suspicion as he took the injured king's arm. Mordred stepped back warily.

"You saved my life," Arthur said to Mordred. "Even if it was done with magic." He saw the boy's glance dart towards Merlin. "I don't countenance sorcery, but nor do I enforce my father's decrees with the same degree of intolerance he showed. I would gladly grant you safe passage to Camelot's border or we can escort you to the Druids again if that's your wish. I can assure you the Druids have lived in peace within this kingdom for over three years."

"Thank you, my lord," Mordred said. "But I'm not the one who saved your life; it was Emrys."

Arthur saw Merlin give a violent start at that name. It seemed odd until the king remembered Morgana had also referred to such a person in the throne room when she had been defeated and driven from the kingdom the last time.

"Nevertheless I am grateful for your defense of me," Arthur said. "Please believe that I'm not so vindictive that I would punish a person for using magic when it was done with the intention of protecting me." Merlin looked unnaturally pale and the king worried his servant might pass out from the nasty blow his head had taken. "Mordred, we'll ensure your safe passage from the kingdom, but we have to leave now while Morgana is unable to stop us."

Mordred shook his head. "Thank you again, but I'm accustomed to making my own way."

"So be it and I wish you well, then." Arthur offered his hand and the boy grasped it in farewell. "Let's go," the king ordered his men.

Merlin field dressed the king's wounds while Percival gathered together the three score knights who had been enslaved. King Arthur was relieved that the effects of Merlin's head injury had lessened and none of his knights had any grave injuries. Gwaine was in the worst shape but even he had healed enough to fight. They found weapons and clothing suitable for the snow-covered plains around Ismere and Arthur organized the other slaves who chose to battle their way out alongside the Camelot knights.

Proud of his men for the ease with which they fought Morgana's Saxon allies despite being bone-weary from weeks of enslavement, Arthur called a halt to their flight as soon as they were a reasonably safe distance from Ismere. He wanted to give his knights an opportunity for food and rest as well as give himself a chance to heal enough so he could wield his sword if necessary, though there was no indication Morgana had rallied her troops to follow them.

After Merlin treated the king's wounds and tended to various injuries for both the knights and the other former slaves, he went to fetch food for Arthur. The king watched his men set up camp as best they could with equipment from Ismere's stores. They worked awkwardly with the unfamiliar Saxon tools, casting disdainful glances at their borrowed garb. He was glad to have discarded his itchy Saxon disguise, relieved that his own clothes had remained hidden where he had stashed them when he and Merlin made their rescue attempt.

Percival had returned Arthur's royal sword and it was back at his side. It really was an exceptionally well-made weapon. He had yet to figure out how Merlin had made the sword appear to be stuck fast in a chunk of solid rock to accompany his made-up rubbish about Arthur's ancestor. Arthur had tugged on the hilt and it had definitely been fixed in the stone somehow, yet had come loose exactly when it was supposed to. It was probably the same kind of trickery Merlin used to pull off that juggling ploy.

At least the mystery of the dragon attack on Agravaine's troop was explained; there was most definitely another living dragon. Although the reports of this new dragon's size must have been exaggerated. The tales which had reached Arthur's ears about the attack outside Ealdor claimed the creature to be at least as large as the Great Dragon Arthur had slain, but the white dragon in Ismere's tunnels was small. Apparently the smaller dragon had not been under Morgana's control when it attacked Agravaine's soldiers, which was doubly lucky since Arthur was aware how close he and his own party had been to falling victim in that attack. They had barely outpaced Agravaine to enter the tunnels when the dragon swooped down on their pursuers, another example of the good fortune Arthur was blessed with.

Not for the first time he thought about Morgana's words as he faced her in Camelot's throne room, the new sword in his hand. He had tried to talk to his sister, tried to reach through her bitterness and hate, but she had been determined to strike him down and keep the crown. 'Not even Emrys can save you now,' she had said, yet when she tried to kill him she had been powerless. Guinevere told him Morgana had defeated her and was poised to kill her, sword at Guinevere's throat, when some powerful unseen force threw Morgana backward in an explosion of debris. Merlin had joined Guinevere just then but neither of them could explain what had happened or where Morgana disappeared to. It sounded similar to the blow which had knocked Morgana unconscious so he, Mordred, and Merlin could escape her in Ismere.

Merlin returned with something he claimed was from the Saxon food stores but which Arthur was unable to identify by either sight or smell. Aware his servant had fed him questionable dishes in the past, the king waited until Merlin took a bite of the unknown substance before trying it himself. The taste was unusual but apparently it was safe for consumption and it would keep his strength up.

"You've heard of Emrys," Arthur began, alarmed when Merlin choked on his food. Perhaps it was not safe to eat, after all.

"What? No I haven't." The blow to the head must pain his servant because he was ashen.

"You were beside me in the throne room when Morgana said something about Emrys," Arthur reminded him.

Merlin's colour began to come back and he swallowed the food lodged in his throat. "Oh, right."

"Mordred said it was Emrys who saved me in Ismere, and we were able to defeat Morgana and Helios despite her claim which means Morgana was wrong – Emrys saved me both times." It was apparent that magic had been involved on those occasions and he recalled Gaius' words about the 'rich variety of people' – which clearly meant sorcerers – who were supportive of his reign. Certainly he had been fortunate on a number of occasions when magic was the most likely explanation for his good luck, although how Emrys accomplished it without detection Arthur had yet to discover. "It has to involve sorcery." He glanced at his servant.

Merlin had stopped eating to stare.

"Don't worry, I'm not about to overturn everything my father worked for during his reign. If someone is using magic for my benefit, I will deal with that charge with as much leniency as the laws allow. There is scope to banish a sorcerer instead of executing a person without so much as a trial, as I know my father was occasionally guilty of."

Merlin's face had a strangled expression and Arthur decided they should both get some rest. As long as he did not know the identity of this sorcerer he would not have to make any decisions about that person's fate. Whoever or whatever Emrys was, it was better not to know.