Prologue

All was quiet. No sound but the shuffling of feet disturbed this peaceful night in the halls of Cornwall. The sun had dipped beyond the horizon long ago, and the residents of the great keep had settled into their beds. Beyond the walls a glorious blanket of stars draped over the land of Britain. Only one man, it seemed, was enough a fool to be about at this time.

The lone insomniac ascended a tall, spiraling staircase within the far tower, toward the bedchambers of his lord; a place where no common man may tread, not at this time of night. But the wizard Merlin was no ordinary man. The ever-present attendant of the king had been summoned to his master's side forthwith, and to come prepared. Indeed, Merlin could hardly be made out beneath his burden. The white-haired imp was cloaked beneath a shimmering set of cloths, heavily favoring his gnarled staff as he ascended. Upon his waist a simple rope fastened many bottles, vials and sacks to his person, and upon his back rested a large jug of wine, gently sloshing with each step. The weight was more than to his liking, and the disgruntled wizard muttered unpleasant words beneath his breath as he jostled his way upward. One, perhaps two hundred steps passed by in this doldrum before he reached the top, where a simple wooden door awaited him. The wizard rapped it multiple times before a quiet voice came from the other side.

"Enter, Merlin."

Merlin opened the door and stepped into the most private space of his king. A quiet, secluded room at the farthest corner of his keep, away from the buzzing of the court and the feasting halls. Here, the great Pendragon might find solace, and peace in which to reflect. There was little furnishing to speak of. A downy bed lay in the far corner, beside which rested a crib holding a small bundle of blankets. Above it hung a single painting, a portrait of a long-dead Roman. And beside a crackling fireplace was one chair and a flat desk at which to write.

"Where have you gotten off to?" asked Merlin to the empty space.

"Out here," answered his errant king. At the far side of the room was an arch that led to a small balcony where one might behold the castle grounds. Or, on a night like this, perhaps they might look upward. Merlin took advantage of his invitation to dump his accoutrements to the floor, setting down the wine jug so he might stand up straight again, before following Pendragon to the balcony. He beheld his old friend with a mirthful grin. "You look terrible, dear Uther."

The King was hunched over the balcony wall, gazing at the dappled patterns of stars above. His tawny hair was a mess, and in his face Merlin saw the first signs of age. In his full raiment the chief of dragons struck a ferocious visage, but tonight in simple green robes he seemed almost meek. He did not break his gaze from the sky to address his wizard. "Is it that bad, old friend?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps worse. They tell me the wedding was splendid." Merlin stepped forward and leaned over the wall alongside Uther.

"It was. You would know if you ever attended such affairs."

"Hardly my style," retorted the sorcerer. "Where is the lady Igrain now?"

"Away," replied Uther. "I've sent her away for the night. I have no energy to spend with her. I find myself drawn to... other matters. It is not as if our vows mean much at this point."

Merlin briefly glanced over his shoulder at the crib beside King Uther's bed. "To say the least. Is that why you've summoned me?"

"I cannot say. Not yet." Uther stretched his back, then pointed upward. "I beheld an omen this evening. Look up, wizard: two stars descend from heaven." Merlin did as ordered, and he saw as his king did. Two comets streaked across the night sky, so high up Merlin needed to crane his neck to view them. A white comet, large and slow, around which spiraled a body as red as blood.

"You sense ill tidings from this sight?"

Uther's hand clasped the sides of his jaw, and he stepped back from the balcony.

"As I said, I'm not certain." Merlin had always known Uther to be a fearless, if superstitious man. To see him hesitate was unfamiliar. The king took a heavy breath before moving back into his chamber, Merlin close behind.

"It is a feeling I do not know, wizard. Tonight I should be exhilarated. I have never known victory so intimately as now." He brandished his hands, making grandiose motions that fit his words, but not the trembling, quiet voice that spat them out with such irritation. "The chieftains and lords have bent the knee to me, and sworn fealty for all to see. I alone rule upon Britain. The only man who stood against me... is dead."

Uther spoke of Duke Gorlois, whom Merlin remembered well. A tremendous man of great virtue but short in patience. He was already a vassal of the mighty Pendragon when the conquest of the other lords began. But he did not trust his king, and the way he stared at Gorlois's wife. His solution was open rebellion and three long years of endless bloodshed. Peace only came by force, when Uther drove his blade into the estranged duke's throat, removing his head in the fields before his own castle. A victory taken further still in the bed of the Duke himself, where Uther came to Gorlois's wife Igrain in the guise of her husband. A crime made possible by Merlin's hand.

Uther continued. "Gorlois is dead, and his line erased. His own wife has borne me a child. I am greater now than I have ever been." He approached the crib. "And yet..."

Merlin watched his oldest friend unfold the blankets, and the man who had slaughtered thousands without a pang of regret seemed to falter as he lifted his daughter into his arms. An infant, not yet a year old, she snuggled into her father's breast for warmth. The wizard studied Uther's face closely, and saw the uncertainty in his proud eyes.

"She's beautiful, Uther." The compliment made him smile, but it was no flattery. But a baby, the girl bore every similarity to her father.

Her short flaxen hair and brilliant gems of eyes reminded the old wizard in every way of the boy named Uther he first met so many years ago. "You should be proud."

"I am. I am." Uther repeated his words to himself, unable to take his eyes off his child. "When I see her, my heart swells near to bursting. All my victories, the thousands who have cheered my name. They all seem... small. When I'm holding her, they seem so small I wonder why I'd ever cared for such adulation. But,"

Uther's breath became uneven. "I see more when I look upon her. I see faces I had forgotten. The dead, the cheated. All those I have crushed to come so far. It is an itch in my very mind, and I cannot shut it out. I have made myself king, but what of her? What do I leave her?" For the first time that night, Uther's attention became affixed to Merlin, and the wizard understood at once why he had been summoned. For the first time since the day he was born, Uther Pendragon was afraid.

"You fear this omen concerns Arturia." Merlin did not ask; he already knew the answer from the look on his king's face.

"Please, wizard. I do not care what you must do. Tell me what becomes of her."

Merlin wasted no time. He had already known what he must bring before the summons arrived. Waving the king to assist him, Merlin moved the supplies he had brought out to the balcony. He uncorked the jug of wine, and with a tap of his finger against its side severed the top section. He removed the clean-cut portion as easily as if it has never been attached, and exposed the red liquid within to open air. He retrieved his rope of supplies and took several pouches of herbs he had collected that afternoon, then sat beside the jug, motioning for his companion to do the same. In meticulous order he deposited the herbs within the jug, causing the wine to react and boil. A heavy, aromatic smoke enveloped the two, and with a whisper Merlin commanded the wind to halt so that it would not blow the smoke away.

Uther quieted his child as the smoke irritated her eyes, while Merlin stirred it with his finger, staring closely at what might be revealed within. "Ah."

With a swish, his finger spun the smoke into intelligible shapes. "The comets you saw are more than mere bodies of the heavens. They are dragons. They descend to the earth from on high, circling one another in battle." The shapes in the smoke changed to match Merlin's description.

"Dragons?" Uther's mind was drawn to the omen heralding his rise as King. The same from which he chose the name Pendragon.

"Aye," said Merlin. "They are quite different in shapes. One is white, its scales shimmer like steel. Despite its form it is a beast of mankind. In its wake it brings knowledge, and an age of humanity to eclipse all that came before."

"And the other?"

"An ancient beast. One that came long before. Its scales are red, and its claws rake away mankind to leave nature in its stead. It circles the white dragon, haunts it, determined to end the age it heralds before it begins. Their battle's conclusion shall determine mankind's course. Prosperity... or annihilation."

Merlin's face was grim, framed in smoke as he turned to his friend. "I believe this dragon of man is none other than the babe you clutch now."

Uther's hands trembled as he looked down at his daughter. "Enough of your symbols and half-speak, incubus." Uther insisted. "Tell me plain, how does the struggle end? What becomes of my child?"

Merlin was quiet for a moment. The red dragon in the smoke circled further out for a moment, then swooped in and sliced the larger dragon in two. "Your daughter, ruler of Britain, falls against the red dragon. Mankind fades."

There was no sound at all to pierce the heavy silence between the two men. Uther's skin was pale, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the clueless child sleeping in his arms.

"No--" He shook his head. "No, that can't be right. I won't allow it. Merlin, you lie!" He jabbed his finger at the wizard's face, but it was smacked away by his staff.

"I would tell you no lie, Uther Pendragon. This is the fate that lies in Arturia's path." Merlin beheld the child once more, yawning and nestling further into her blanket. A terrible thought crossed his mind. He tried to push it aside, but his mouth acted too quickly. "For the moment."

And spark of hope spotted, Uther seized upon it. "What do you mean, wizard?" He asked with bated breath. "If there is a way to change this fate, I order you tell me!"

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Do not order me, Pendragon, lest you forget my role. I am not your servant. I am your friend." He held his hand up in a cautionary gesture. "There... might be a way that such things might change. But to trifle in such matters invites greater disasters. I cannot guarantee an even worse fate would not come to pass should we try."

"I do not care." Uther resolved himself quickly, and ignored Merlin's warning. "I will not be deterred. If there is a path to protect my daughter there is no sacrifice I will not make." Merlin sighed, chagrined at the return of the obstinate king he had come to know before this night. He whispered once more, and the shapes in the smoke changed. The wizard stared into the cloud for some time. Minutes passed, then hours, as Uther watched him peer past the veil of possibility. The wizard's eyes were fixed upon the pool of wine. They did not even blink within this time. Uther looked closely and saw reflection of light that was not there in the wizard's still eyes. A kaleidoscope of strange colors and shapes swirled within. The first hints of orange on the far horizon were creeping, heralding the dawn, when at last he spoke.

"There is one."

Uther was roused from the sleep he had nearly been taken by in the intervening hours. "One of what?"

"One chance," said Merlin. "In all I saw, there was one opportunity. A world wherein the white dragon prevails. Your daughter pierces the heart of the dragon, and mankind's survival is ensured."

"And what of her?" asked the impatient king. "What becomes of my daughter?"

"I cannot tell. Not precisely, anyway. But I saw... satisfaction."

"That is not an answer, devil. Does she live? Or does she perish?"

Merlin chuckled. "What a stupid question, old friend. All things perish. But I tell you this: in the world I saw, she shall greet her appointed time with a smile. She will be content."

Uther quieted down once more, watching his daughter fidget in the middle of her dreams. His finger, stiff from the long night of exposure to open air, brushed her cheek. She woke from the sensation, and looked at her father with eyes like his own.

"But be warned, Uther Pendragon." Merlin stood up and towered over the seated king. "Fate is a powerful force, and one that cannot be denied without consequence. If you should choose to seek this path, I cannot know what becomes of anything in the ages to come. Neither you, nor I, nor the earth itself is set in stone. It is a terrible risk--"

"I do not care." Uther cut off the wizard's speech with a curt phrase. He looked at Merlin with determination already visible in his expression. "I do not care if the whole world should burn. My daughter shall live." Pendragon returned his daughter to her crib, tucking her in before moving to his beside. On the wall rested his blade. The holy sword Calesvol seemed to glimmer in the morning light as Uther took it into his hands, and brandished it toward the morning sunrise.

"Tell me what I must do."