The Magician (NC-17 Version) - The Collector's Edition An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! ----------------- Prologue He was under no illusions - he was running for his life. Here, in the deepest part of the forest where the two realms abutted, there was only one possible haven, the one that Reinald had told him to seek. The wind-whipped branches lashed at his face as he crashed through the dark and the rain, his pursuers terrifyingly close behind. The baying of the Hunters and the shriek of the Destroyers were increasingly loud in his quivering ears as he headed by instinct to the only possible escape; if indeed that's what it was - for nothing had ever returned alive from the Vortex. He couldn't be sure he wasn't heading into disaster, but with certain death nipping at his heels, the choice was clear. He leapt over fallen trees and gnarled roots, panting, his chest on fire with the need for air. He thought briefly - only briefly - of his loved ones and the life he would be leaving behind, then ruthlessly set those thoughts aside. Right now, he needed to focus on survival. While the baying and shrieks grew ever nearer, he finally saw his only chance at survival just a few hundred meters away. He could hear the low pitched roar of the Vortex as he forced his exhausted limbs onward. Sandwiched between the pursuing fiends and the boiling, flashing nothingness of the Vortex, he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then the sour scent of the Hunters and the nauseating stench of the Destroyers strengthened his resolve. They couldn't be more than fifty meters behind. As he heard their shouts of impending triumph come closer and closer, he drew a deep breath and hurled himself into the center of the Vortex. A scream of terror echoed faintly in his ears as he fell through a spinning web of light and shadow. Fell endlessly, head over heels, over and over, until finally... ...he crashed onto the floor of a cold, dark, cheerless chamber, filled with equipment and metal tables and storage spaces. Certainly different from what he was accustomed to, but for the moment, safe. He curled up into a ball in a corner of the room and slept. - - - - - //Reinald stared into the Oracle Cloud - Tarnor was safe. But to bring him back would take all of the Mage's wisdom and power. No one else had ever been able to do it - he wasn't certain that even he could. Especially now, when both his strength and that of the Realm itself were being assailed on all sides.... Think, think! Reinald blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was already exhausted from the search. If he did not find Another soon, someone with the strength to join with him - melding their powers together in defense against the great evil - then the Realm would be lost. Perhaps Tarnor would be better off wherever he was. Focusing back on his lost friend, Reinald could get only fragmented impressions of that strange place. The darkly clouded images, augmented by a few sensations, smells and tastes, were obtained less through the Cloud than from his link with Tarnor. Focusing his thoughts with fierce determination, he sent a message along that link to comfort himself as much as Tarnor, "I will not forget - I will bring you back - have courage".// Chapter One Washington D.C. Monday, March 6, 1995 8:30 a.m. "Scully, you're going to love this one." Mulder grinned up at his partner as she entered their cramped basement office. Scully closed the door behind her and made her way over to her desk. From her expression, and the careless way she dumped her briefcase on the desk, her week was not starting out well. "Mulder, when you say that, I know the day is shot. Bad enough that I overslept, had no hot water for my shower and put a huge hole in my last pair of hose. Just let me get some coffee before I become homicidal." He pushed her steaming mug across the desk at her and smiled. "All ready for you, Scully." She picked it up and sipped at the hot liquid gratefully, perching herself on the edge of the desk. After a couple of swallows, she looked up at him with suspicion. "Oh, God, now I KNOW I'm going to hate it. Okay, I'll bite - what is it - Elvis has fathered an alien baby and we're invited to the christening, or what?" "I'm hurt, Scully." He feigned taking an arrow through the heart, then he favored her with a glowing smile. Leaping up to lean over the desk, he placed his lips near her ear and whispered conspiratorially, "Read this and BE AMAZED." He handed her an X-File with a low ID number, then sat back down in his chair as she flipped through it, scanning the documents, her eyes widening as she studied the photographs. "Mulder, this is impossible." Her partner watched with mixed amusement and amazement as one auburn eyebrow inched its way up her forehead. She could have given "Mr. Spock" lessons in how to display that look of intellectual incredulity. "Evidently not," he replied, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his knees. "These photographs were taken at MIT. The file was started in 1951 after the first occurrence. Entries have been made on an irregular basis six times since then. All of the occurrences have been similar. A creature, for want of a better word, suddenly appears in one of the labs - always the same one - on the MIT campus. This lab is always kept locked when no one is actually working in it, which apparently is most of the time. It's opened only on days when certain experiments are being done using certain equipment. Because of the classified nature of the experiments, the room isn't even unlocked for cleaning, so it often stays locked for weeks at a time. In the occurrences from 1951 to 1987, the creatures discovered in the lab were dead, probably from starvation or dehydration . But it's a little different this time. This time, Scully, we've got a live one." - - - - - They were boarding a plane to Logan International Airport less than ninety minutes later. Scully hadn't bothered to protest. When Mulder got on the trail of a case like this, he was impossible to derail. Either she went with him, or he went alone. At least if she was with him, she could possibly keep him out of trouble. Of course, there was also the small part of her that was fascinated by the case itself. She didn't like to admit it, but sometimes she really was curious about the weird events they investigated, and this was one of those times. Finally settling into their seats after a terrifyingly fast dash to the airport, Scully was appreciative, as she often was when they traveled, that her smaller size made squeezing into the cramped seats relatively easy for her. As usual Mulder's long legs were crammed into an uncomfortable position, one splayed out into the aisle. Mulder grimaced at Scully as he adjusted his position yet again, then opened the briefcase he was still holding in his lap. He might as well take full advantage of the flight time to fill her in on more of the details. He spread the photographs out on the their tray tables. "You'll notice that of the seven creatures, there are three distinct types, which they have imaginatively named Type A, Type B and Type C. The types are divided on the basis of size, facial and body characteristics, and so on. The latest arrival is a Type B - what I personally prefer to call the Gargoyle series, as opposed to the Troll series and the Elf series. It stands approximately one meter tall and weighs 19 kilograms, although the weight was probably not accurate, as the creature was neither enthusiastic nor cooperative about being weighed. It does not appear to understand any of the languages which have been tried - the count stands at thirty five - but researchers on the scene say that they feel the creature is intelligent, and they are still seeking ways to communicate with it. Apparently, it is drinking sterilized water, but has refused food so far." "Mulder, where did this thing come from?" Scully questioned, pulling one of the photographs closer to study it intently. "And please, please don't say what I think you're going to say." "Believe it or not, I wasn't," he replied, leaning back in the chair, angling his head to the side to look down at the top of her head, still bent over the glossy photos. "There have been several theories throughout the years. One is that these poor creatures are the results of experiments done in genetics at MIT, and somehow, they were inadvertently locked in the room and were not able to get out. If they are the results of genetics experiments, no one has admitted to it, which is hardly surprising. Another theory of the early fifties - and the favorite of paranoiacs everywhere - is that they were beings created by the Soviets to spy on us and take our most valuable research. The theory does not go on to explain how these beings were supposed to blend in with the indigenous population," he added dryly. "In any case, I think we can rule that theory out - our Type B doesn't understand Russian. Anyway, the bodies of the others were taken by "someone in the government" according to sources at MIT, although no one will ever know who - there's no paper trail, no evidence other than what MIT sent the Bureau for inclusion in the X-Files, and no one's volunteering any information. I have my own ideas about that, but knowing won't get us any further ahead anyway. So in answer to your question, Scully, I don't know where they came from. That's one of the things we're here to find out." - - - - - After landing and collecting their baggage, they joined the continuous traffic jam that IS Boston and drove the three miles from the airport to MIT in the record time of one hour and fifteen minutes. They found the building in question quickly. Oddly, there seemed to be little excitement, possibly because the students and the professors were so focused in their individual pursuits that they were unaware of the extraordinary events taking place down the hall. They knocked at the door to Lab 301, and it was opened by a gaunt older man in a lab coat. "Professor Neumann? I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana Scully. I spoke to you earlier today." Mulder and Scully displayed their I.D. photos. The professor took hold of Mulder's I.D. and studied it thoroughly, nodded, and stepped back to let them enter. In answer to their quizzical expressions, he said, "It's in the lab proper - this is just the prep room. My assistant and I still haven't had any luck communicating with it. It is non- aggressive and appears to be frightened. I'd say it hadn't been in the lab very long when we found it. It was thirsty, but appears to be in good shape otherwise. We're trying to keep this under wraps as much as possible. I was here the last time this happened in '87. The attitude of the government-types who took charge of the creature's body and interrogated everyone here reminded me of the Gestapo. This is a living being, and I believe an intelligent one. I would not willingly trust its fate to people like that. Well, do you think you're ready?" He smiled wryly and shook his head. "Believe me, you will never be totally prepared for what you're about to see." Neumann lightly rapped an irregular series of knocks on the inner door. A few seconds later it was opened by a middle- aged woman who, recognizing Neumann, admitted them. The room they entered was almost thirty feet in length and twenty feet in width, and was divided in half lengthwise by a long, gleaming stainless steel work table. The long sides of the room were lined with metal counters, with storage compartments above and below. Scattered on the counters were computers, a laser and other space-age equipment. Neumann and the woman, both dressed in identical white lab-coats, went to stand on one side of the long table; on the other, in the furthest corner of the room from the doorway in which they were standing, squatted the creature. "Oh Mulder - oh, my God!" Scully backed up a step, eyes dilating with amazement. Mulder brushed past her, curiosity and delight written upon his face. The two agents remained at the head of the table observing the creature. It was roughly humanoid in appearance and clothed in a blue leather-like tunic, with a large brown pouch bound to its silver buckled belt. It was a steel gray in color except for the palms of its hands and the soles of its feet, which were darker, almost black. Its skin had a leathery appearance, and it was scattered with coarse looking black hair. There was no way to tell if the creature was male or female though it did have a short, stubby tail protruding out from under its short tunic. The joints were knobby, enlarged, and the hands and feet were disproportionately big and deformed- looking, by human standards. Its face was grotesque, with a huge mouth, rather alarming pointed teeth, a spreading nose, and tiny eyes. Wide, pointed ears stood out from its head. Swinging around to take in Mulder and Scully, the creature's ears popped up to their full length and its chest rose and fell rapidly. It slowly moved to a standing position. Tarnor stared at the newcomers. These two did not have the weak, pastel aura of the woman. They didn't even have the Thin One's light gray aura of the intellectual. These were the types of beings he was more familiar with, beings surrounded by warm, strong, vibrantly colored auras. The Short One's aura was unique - the healer's brown at the center, with a wide border of warrior green. The two colors swirled and mixed in intricate patterns where they met. Tarnor had never seen such a combination before. Then his eyes turned to her tall, male companion. Great Deities above! Tarnor blinked, then looked again. The fierce blue of this human's aura rivaled Reinald's own, almost blinding in its intensity. It glowed, clear and pure, like the cloudless sky on a bright summer's noon. At last, something familiar - it was greatly reassuring that this frightening strange place had magicians too. Surely a magician as powerful as this one would understand Tarrnor's predicament. Tentatively, Tarnor focused his thoughts and energy and tried to reach out to the Tall One. He was not accomplished at establishing links yet, at least not with anyone except Reinald, but if he could find an ally in this strange land... Mulder instinctively put his hand out for balance as a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him. Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. "Mulder, are you all right? Do you want to sit down? You're white as a sheet!" "I - I think I... No, it's gone now. I'm fine. Must be jet lag or something." From the way that Scully looked at him, Mulder knew they'd be talking about this later. The creature was now squatting again, and appeared withdrawn. It closed its eyes for several minutes, its breathing slowed, and it appeared as if it had gone to sleep. Suddenly, it stood again, looked at Mulder, and took a few experimental steps towards him. The woman scientist instinctively took a step back as the creature emerged from the corner. This was new - up to now, it had not approached anyone, but had only retreated and assumed a defensive posture. Mulder, Scully and Neumann held their ground as the creature came several steps closer, now only about fifteen feet away. Mulder squatted down, wanting to avoid intimidating the creature by equalizing their heights. Unfortunately, the position also impeded his ability to move quickly if necessary. He hoped that wouldn't be necessary since he desperately wanted to communicate with it. He had so many questions. "I hope you know what you're doing," Scully said softly. She and Neumann paced back a couple of steps, and she slid her hand unobtrusively to the handle of her gun, never taking her eyes off the strange creature. It continued to advance, now within a few feet. Mulder extended his arms, resting them on his knees, and held out both hands, palms up, debating whether or not to look the creature right in the eyes. Although a sign of honesty and forthrightness in Westerners, a direct stare was interpreted as a challenge in some human and animal cultures. While Mulder was considering the question, his eyes still focused on the creature's feet, it took one more step, then squatted and extended its hands to within an inch of Mulder's. For a minute or two, they were motionless. Then Mulder closed the distance to gently touch his hands to the creature's and looked into its face. Everyone watching felt their breath catch and hold in their throats. There was a change of expression on the creature's face as the contact took place, a relaxation of sorts. It placed one of its dry palms flat against Mulder's, and slowly and carefully placed the heel of its other hand against Mulder's forehead, its eyes locked with his. They froze in that position for several minutes, their expressions vacant. Then, ever so slowly, the emptiness on their faces cleared and the creature broke contact. It got back up onto its feet, walked back to its corner in its peculiar rolling gait, and sat. The room breathed again. Mulder stood unsteadily, and again, Scully anchored him. "Professor Neumann, we still need to check in at the hotel, and Agent Mulder seems to be having a recurrence of his hypoglycemia and needs to eat - could we return this evening?" "Absolutely. I should be here until ten or so. This interaction just now - incredible. Makes me sorry I went in for Physics instead of Zoology." The professor eyed the creature with an expression of mixed hunger and curiosity. "We'll see you tonight then. Thank you." Scully put her arm around Mulder's back and supported him as they left the room. Mulder was silent as they walked out of the building and found the car in the parking lot. "I'll drive, Mulder." Scully insisted, watching him with concern. He nodded silently and flipped Scully the keys, which she deftly caught. After they were both settled in their seats, she turned the engine over, and drove out of the parking lot. They traveled along Memorial Drive to their hotel, the buildings of MIT and then Harvard on their right, the Charles River and the Boston skyline to their left. Scully slid a glance over to her still-silent partner. He was pale, and his fingers trembled slightly. Concerned, she asked, "How close did I come to the truth? DO you need to eat?" "It wouldn't hurt." Mulder said absently. They turned into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency - a concession Mulder had made to Scully's bad mood earlier in the day. While Mulder registered for the two of them, Scully stopped at the coffee shop and got some sandwiches and fruit juice. When they got to their rooms, they opened the communicating door, threw down their baggage, and Scully spread the food out on the table in her room. "Sorry, no iced tea, they don't have it in the winter up here, apparently." "S'alright." He started eating his tuna on toast, his mind most definitely elsewhere. She noticed that although his color had improved, he was still trembling slightly. They ate in companionable quiet for a while, although Scully was beginning to get impatient. Finally, her patience exhausted, she cleared her throat and dived in. "Okay, Mulder, talk." His head jerked up as if he were noticing her presence for the first time. He centered on her with an effort. "All right, Scully, but I don't think you're going to like it." "What was all that crap about jet lag, Mulder?" she asked heatedly. "Nobody gets jet lag from a one hour flight in the same time zone. What the hell was wrong with you in there?" Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hands, then sat back. "I think it was trying to communicate with me. Well, actually, I KNOW it was trying to communicate with me. The first time, when it was still across the room I was aware of - images mostly, and colors and odors and tastes, all of them strange, and so sharp and clear they were almost painful. The sensations definitely did not originate with me, they had to be coming from the creature. The images made no sense, as far as I could tell. Anyway, I guess I got overloaded by all the stimuli or something, because after a few seconds, it became intolerable and I felt like I was going to pass out." "Which you nearly did. You took a hell of a chance letting that thing get close to you," Scully said with annoyance. He was always putting himself into dangerous situations. "Not really, Scully. I think it was pretty obvious that it didn't mean any harm," Mulder protested. "Obvious to you, maybe. But it could have hurt you without meaning to. And don't forget that we have no idea what kind of foreign bacteria and viruses this thing might carry." He shrugged. "It was worth the risk. When it got close and touched me, I was again sure that there was communication taking place. But, there was something different. It seemed like I was communicating with a different being. The images I was getting were much less intense, more controlled. How can I explain it?" He grimaced in frustration for a second, then said, "Kind of like looking at two completely different handwriting samples, or pictures by two different artists. The feeling I got the first time was totally different the second time. It was still images, sensations - totally nonverbal. But the images were toned down, more coherent, more understandable." "So what did you get from them?" she asked, curious despite herself. Sheepishly, he looked up at her. "Uh - this is the part you're probably not going to like." She smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. I haven't been crazy about any of it so far." "You asked for it," he warned, then he sighed. "I got an impression of another place, not of this world, but not of any other world either. A kind of ... maybe a ... I don't know, maybe a parallel reality? I can't really pin it down any better than that. I had visions of impending bloodshed, lots of it - that came through loud and clear. And also a kind of Manichaean Good versus Evil thing, with the smart money on Evil." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, Scully, I don't know why I'm so tired, but I feel wiped out. Mind if I..." "Help yourself," she replied. Mulder got up, walked over to one of the beds, stretched out on it and almost groaned in relief. Scully observed him for a moment and then said, "Have you given any thought to the idea that maybe all this communicating isn't exactly healthy for you?" "No. Scully, wait. You have to hear the rest." Mulder was fighting a losing battle against the sleepiness which was rapidly becoming overwhelming. "See, the thing is, whatever I was communicating with, it ... it sees us - you and me - as different ... from the other people it's come across here. And Scully ... it needs us ... the healer and the magician...." He trailed off as sleep finally overcame him. "Yeah, right Mulder." Scully took the extra blanket from the shelf in her closet. She removed his shoes, then carefully covered him, restraining her impulse to ruffle his hair. He could drive her to distraction sometimes with his almost child- like recklessness and gullibility. She turned on the radio to the local NPR station, keeping the volume low, and cleared away the remains of lunch. Then she unpacked her things, and crossing through to his room, unpacked for him. Finally she sat and started the field reports, to the accompaniment of Brahm's First Symphony and Mulder's soft snores. ----------------- "Mulder...Mulder, it's six thirty." Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in her favorite blue suit, her bright auburn hair still damp from her shower. She reached out and brushed the dark bangs of his forehead tenderly. He awakened instantly, as he usually did, although it took a few more seconds for his brain to actually function. He sat up, blinked and surveyed his surroundings. "The hotel," he said, with a hint of question in his tone. "Yes. Mulder, are you all right? You seem kind of disoriented." Concerned, Scully leaned over and looked into his eyes, checking his pupils. "I'm fine, Scully. I guess I just didn't take much notice when we checked in. Stay for a minute, I want to finish what I was telling you about, before we go back to the lab." He pulled himself up to a semi-seated position. "I have to tell you," she answered. " I'm very uneasy about all this. There's too much of an "Alice in Wonderland" feel to it. I'm not sure I want to look for an explanation of all of this." Scully met his eyes directly, not holding back the uncertainty she felt. Mulder nodded. "I think that when the explanation comes, it will be the LEAST bizarre aspect of the whole case. Right now you have to hear me out and we have some decisions to make, because I have a feeling our time is limited. Sooner or later, whoever took charge of the corpses of the other creatures will hear about the latest arrival, and will show up on the scene. I would prefer it if there were nothing for them to find." "You don't seriously think you're going to be able to hide that thing somewhere, do you?" "Hiding it wasn't what I had in mind." His eyes glittered, as the corners of his mouth edged upwards. "Mulder, should I start getting scared now, because I don't like that look in your eyes." She tilted her head sideways, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Just what was he up to? "Scully, believe me, I know how hard this sort of thing is for you, but just hear me out, and try to keep an open mind, okay?" He threw back the blanket and got out of bed. As he prowled around the room, he tried to find the words to explain. "I learned a lot from the second link with the creature. As I was telling you, there are two Realms in this parallel reality, or whatever it is. The visions of these Realms were so richly textured, it would probably take me days to mention every detail I saw. Some of the images were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes, and some were so gruesome, so grotesque, so abhorrent that I was nauseated. I could sense time and everything else in a very different way. I don't know whether the Communicator helped me to interpret these images, or I did it on my own, or what; I suspect a bit of both. Anyway, the creature in the lab is a sort of assistant to the second being I communicated with. He's here by accident - it was the only place he could go. There is a kind of portal that exists between that reality and ours - that's how the creatures get here. So far, their use of the portal has either been experimental or accidental. I saw visions of how the other creatures had ended up here. The first three were experiments, unsuccessful ones, seeing as they were unable to get back to their own reality. They were trapped in the locked room and died. Our Type B was running for his life and dove through the portal seconds before he would have been killed." "Killed by what?" Scully angled her head to get into a better position to follow his movements around the room. "By the Others - the beings that exist in the Other Realm. This is hard - I don't know what to call anything, because as I said, this was all nonverbal so I don't have names or labels. According to the Communicator, the Others are a bloodthirsty race, Evil incarnate. The forces of the Others are being gathered because soon there will be a war for control of both Realms. The Realm of the Communicator will surely lose, because its people are peaceful and have no experience with all- out war, not in living memory anyway. There is a prophecy however that speaks of two magicians who could join their powers together to defeat the Others. The Communicator is one of those magicians. He's been searching for Another." Mulder was silent for a few minutes, then sat on one of the beds, his hands together, steepled, his fingers resting on his upper lip. "We seem to have captured the Communicator's attention, Scully." "How? And why us?" Scully's tone was suspicious. "Evidently, the creature here can serve as a kind of conduit. The Communicator sees us through it. As to why us..." he turned to look at her with a half-apologetic smile. "It is apparently under the impression that we can help it out, an impression it received from our auras. It spotted you immediately as a healer of great ability, combined with warrior capabilities, something that's very unusual and powerful in its world." "And what's your aura, Mulder?" she asked with a tinge of amusement creeping into her expression. His smile turned more apologetic. "Uh - evidently, it feels that I may be the magician it's been looking for." Scully shook her head, incredulous. "You don't actually believe all this, do you? Please tell me you don't believe it, Mulder." Mulder's smile faded, and his jaw set in a stubborn line. "At this point, I don't believe or disbelieve. I don't know if it was telling the truth, but I know what I saw and felt and sensed." Scully stood up, obviously exasperated. "And of course you 'want to believe'. Mulder, hasn't that caused you enough trouble and grief? Aren't there enough people in the Bureau who think you're crazy? You are risking the status of the X-Files, Mulder - they could close us down again! And there's no way I'm filing a field report that reads like it's been written by J.R.R. Tolkien!" Mulder came to halt, turning to look down at her, his voice also raised. "What are the X-Files for, Scully? They're to record the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional that truth might be. All I'm asking is that we go back and try to communicate with it again. That, and keep it out of the hands of the NSA or Cancer Man or whoever else may show up to try to take it." Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember that what she most loved and respected about Mulder was also what made her the most crazy. "Okay, Mulder. How about we go to the lab, you communicate with it, and we'll worry about the rest later?" Mulder nodded. "Okay, good enough." He hesitated, then said more softly, "I'm really not trying to be difficult, you know. I just - " "I know, Mulder - you just believe more passionately than is good for you, sometimes. You'd better go take a shower and change. You're a mess." She looked pointedly at him. He peered down at himself and grimaced. Sleeping in his suit had not done it any good, the expensive material was crumpled and wrinkled. Sighing, he stripped off the jacket and yanked at his tie as he hurried into her bathroom. About ten minutes later, his head peeked out the door. "Unh, Scully..." "Finish your shower, Mulder," she answered laughing. "I'll get your clothes." - - - - - They were at the lab about an hour later. Again, Professor Neumann answered their knock. His face was pinched and anxious as he said, "I'm glad you got here when you did. I just got a call from a friend that works at Lincoln Labs out at Hanscom Air Force Base. Some "recovery team" has been scrambled from there. She said they were headed our way. She doesn't know about our mutual friend in there, but I can think of only one thing such a team might be interested in." Mulder became very alert, very focused. "How long do we have?" "With luck, about thirty minutes. No more, probably less." The professor backed up and let them enter the room. "Okay," Mulder considered their options for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration. "Professor, if you and your colleague would please stay in the prep room and do everything you can to delay them. Get campus security to try to stop them, arrange a sit-in downstairs, anything you can think of. Just remember that the people directing this team are ruthless. Don't put yourself or anyone else in any danger. By the way, can you tell me what kind of experiments are carried out in this room?" "I can't get very specific - national security and all that." The professor shook his head. "Very generally speaking, we're doing some experiments involving the space-time continuum. I don't feel comfortable saying any more than that. All right, we'll do everything we can to slow the recovery team down. As I said, I was here in '87." "Thank you." Mulder frowned, feeling his typical exasperation with government secrecy. "Scully, let's go." His face lightened as a new thought occurred. "Too bad there's no People for the Ethical Treatment of Gargoyles, huh?" He smiled while Scully groaned an exaggerated sigh. Neumann unlocked the door to the lab, took another look at the creature while they entered, then locked the door after them. Mulder walked about half-way to the creature and sat on the floor. The creature immediately came up to him, sat, and placed its hands on Mulder's palm and forehead again. This time they were motionless for at least fifteen minutes. The creature withdrew its hands, and Mulder looked up at Scully who was waiting across the room and called her over to them. His eyes were intense. "Okay, decision time. The Communicator, whose name is evidently Reinald, thinks he's figured out a way to get the creature back through the portal to its own reality. He would like the two of us to accompany it - he thinks that only by our intercession can his Realm - and possibly the entire parallel reality - be saved." Mulder paused for a moment. "I think we have to let the creature try to go back; it doesn't belong here and will probably be dissected inside of a week if it stays. The portal may not function, in which case all of this is moot. Or the portal may function improperly, in which case anything that goes through it may not arrive in the same condition it left here. The creature is willing to give it a try. I've been honest with it about what may happen if it stays here." He stared at her directly. "I'm willing to give it a try, too." "Mulder, you're not serious. You can't be serious about this." Scully looked from her partner to the creature, then back to Mulder again. But before he could respond, their attention was diverted by the sound of approaching sirens, squealing brakes, and shouted orders. "I'd like you to come with us, Scully." Mulder tried to ignore the noise, hoping he had time to convince her. "Reinald is convinced that the chances of success improve dramatically if you're involved. He said something about a prophecy." Scully looked at him wide-eyed, hardly believing what she was hearing. "Mulder, wake up. This is not a dream and you are not, I repeat, NOT a magician. We're not going, Mulder, neither of us. If the creature wants to try a disappearing act, that's fine, but we - WE - are staying here." Desperately, Scully looked for anything she could use to bring him to his senses, even if it meant playing dirty. "Please, Mulder, you can't leave. Your work is here. And so am I." By now, there was the sound of booted feet in the hallway. Mulder bit his lip and nodded, bitter disappointment etched into his face. He looked at the creature, and they resumed their communication position for a minute. Then the creature dropped its hands and closed its eyes. They could hear sounds of shouting in the prep room. "Oh, God, I'm dizzy." Mulder's slender frame shook as he attempted to stand. "Quick, Scully, help me up. We have to move out of the way - the portal is going to op...." The recovery team from Hanscom kicked in the door to an empty lab. ----------------- Tarnor woke slowly, his entire body aching from head- to-toe. His nose was pressed down into sweet smelling grass, his feet resting on a small tree root. Groaning, he slowly turned onto his back and blinked up at the canopy of bright green and yellow leaves over his head. Warm bright streams of sunlight filtered down, dancing through the whispering leaves and gently waving branches. "Oooh, what a horrible dream," he muttered to himself, stumbling to his feet as he scratched the terminally itchy spot behind his right ear. It had seemed so real... "******," a throaty female voice grumbled behind him in a totally unfamiliar language. Tarnor spun around, ears flicking upright in shock as he watched a small red-haired woman dressed in utterly foreign clothing pull herself to her feet. By the Gods, the nightmare hadn't been a dream! It had been real! The spot behind his ear began to itch even harder as memories flooded him. If the woman was with him, then what had happened to the foreign magician? "********!!!," an aggrieved male voice shouted from above Tarnor's head. Oh no, he thought with dismay, his nose twitching. The magician had somehow ended up in a tree. He was stretched out on a thick tree branch, long arms and legs twined around it. Tarnor and the woman both stood up to their full heights, her head and shoulders above him, but neither anywhere close to reaching the increasing irritated man. Unfortunately, the tree he was suspended in was a large ancient oak with a several foot wide trunk and no branches close enough to the ground to enable one of them to climb up or for him to easily climb down. Utterly confused as to why the Magician didn't simply levitate himself down, Tarnor watched in amazement as the two strangers started to converse loudly - or was it argue - in their strange, dissonant speech. The woman seemed to be somewhat amused with the predicament her companion was in, her thin human lips baring white even teeth in a grin. The man still clinging to the tree-limb frowned down at her, his strong human features settling into carved stone, his green-brown eyes turning a stormy black. His fiery aura blazed around him, swirling blue fire so bright that it made Tarnor's eyes ache just looking in his direction. Tarnor found himself shuddering with fear, slowly backing away. The woman must be either extraordinarily brave or truly foolhardy. One did not have fun at the expense of such a powerful sorcerer and walk away unharmed. Even Reinald, who was a truly white magician, had a deep sense of his own authority. One young mage-apprentice who had pulled a practical joke on his seemingly-pleasant master had quickly found himself pulling wagons in the shape of a donkey for two weeks. And that was mild. Tarnor had grown up on horror stories about what less merciful sorcerers did to people who angered them. Already he could sense the tension growing in the air. The sunlight fled as a menacing cloud slowly formed above their heads. The trees themselves seemed to pull back, the leaves twitching in the sudden calm. The air felt heavy and charged. The woman waved up at the stranded man, bending her head back and laughing. The moment her first peel of laugher echoed in the air the storm broke, a lightning bolt flashing from the boiling cloud lancing down to hit the ground a few inches from her feet. She screamed and jumped backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground as the sky opened and dumped a flood of rain directly on her head. The storm lasted for a only few brief seconds, but was still enough to leave her totally drenched. Once the deluge was over, Tarnor peeked out around the tree he had taken shelter under during the short downpour. Somewhat wet himself, but definitely in a better mood, the magician was laughing down at the woman who was sitting dejectedly in a large puddle, her bright hair plastered to her head, her dark-blue clothing soaked limp and mud-splattered. Given the way her aura was glowing a bright fighter's green, Tarnor was grateful not to be getting the benefit of her furious glare. "*************************," she said in an icy voice, her eyes stinging the still-giggling mage, who stopped laughing and grimaced in response. Then staring down at the ground about twice his height below him, he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he swung his legs around so that he was sitting on the branch with his feet dangling off the same side. Holding on with his hands, he swung himself backwards until he was hanging from his knees. To Tarnor's utter astonishment, he dropped his knees and spun around the branch, suddenly releasing himself and somersaulting to the ground, landing on his feet, knees bending down, hands swinging behind him to pick up some of the shock of the landing. He took a slight hop, throwing his arms back up in the air, then came to full stop, his face warming into a brilliant smile. Tarnor edged closer to the woman, his feet squishing in the mud, as the mage walked closer to her from the opposite direction. Tarnor stood motionless behind her, watching anxiously as the tall man extended a hand down to the still-sitting woman. She ignored the hand for a long tense moment, then gave a deep sigh of resignation and took it, accepting his help to regain her feet. Even fully standing, her head only reached top of his chest, and the fact that the odd spikes on the bottom of her shoes were sunk deep into the ground didn't help. But from the warmth in the mage's eyes as he helped her out of the mud suggested that the worst was over for the moment. Still, Tarnor was terribly confused and frightened. They were miles from safety, with minions of the dark ones spread throughout the woods, and he could hardly communicate with this extraordinary couple. If all that weren't enough, it was becoming slowly evident that this was a totally untrained talent. How anyone could have survived to adulthood with SO much power, but with absolutely no training was beyond Tarnor's comprehension. But it had to be so, because otherwise, surely, the mage would at least have sense enough to shield himself. Or was he so arrogant in his power that he thought nothing could harm him? Tarnor could only sure that he didn't like either possibility. Getting these two safely to Fairwoods Castle was not going to be fun. - - - - - Dana Scully trudged along behind the strange, gray creature, her feet aching. She wasn't sure why she was following the odd-looking whatever-it-was, but Mulder had insisted, and she had nothing better to do but go along until she woke up. This was just an unusually vivid hallucination, she told herself again, even as she stumbled over a large tree root and nearly fell down. The gargoyle thing was at her side immediately, offering her a helping hand, which was more than she could say for Mulder who was rambling along behind them, studying everything he passed with great interest. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Back on her not too steady feet, Dana nodded thanks to the creature which bobbed his large head and spoke musically in an unfamiliar language. I ought to get this dream analyzed, Scully thought, my subconscious must be working overtime. But dream or not, she wanted out as quickly as possible. It was simply no fun being wet, dirty, and exhausted - dream or reality. She took a few more steps, then spotted a large boulder under a big leafy tree. Sighing with relief she turned towards it. She settled down onto the cool stone gratefully, pulling off her formerly navy blue pumps and eying them with annoyance. They had been her best pair of shoes, but now they were ruined. This had better be a dream, because otherwise she was really going to be mad. In the meantime, those heels had to go. Practical enough on tiled floors and concrete, they were functionally hopeless on dirt, grass, and tree roots. Closing her eyes in pain, she banged the shoes against the rock she was sitting on until the heels came off. Just as she was about to put the now-flat shoes back on her sore feet, she felt, more than saw, Mulder perch himself on the rock beside her. "You okay, Scully?" he asked, his bright eyes wide with concern "No, Mulder," she said patiently, like an adult talking to a young child. "My new shoes are ruined, as is my favorite suit. I'm still wet, my hair is a mess, and my feet are killing me. I'm hungry, lost in the middle of a nightmare and I can't wake up. I am most certainly not okay." "I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder replied. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't passed out on you, we might have been able to get out of the room before the vortex formed. You shouldn't be here." He gave her a dejected look. "I'm not convinced we're out of the room - or if we are, we're in a government lab somewhere getting pumped full of hallucinatory drugs. This has got to be a hallucination." She gestured expressively. "I'm just dreaming and I'll wake up soon." "Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in frustration. "This is hardly a hallucination. It's real." He banged hard on the rock. "How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes, your own senses?" "Very easily," she said, giving him an annoyed look and standing up abruptly. "And as far as I'm concerned you're just another figment of my imagination. But since I seem to be stuck in this for a while, we might as well get going to wherever it is we're going. Maybe I can at least dream myself up a shower and change of clothes, food and a clean bed." She stalked away, her back straight, head held high. Mulder shook his head and eased himself off the rock to follow her. Their 'guide' started off again, looking back at them every so often to make sure that they were following close enough behind it. - - - - - The forest seemed endless. They wandered for hours, the grey-skinned creature always in the lead, stopping and waiting impatiently for them every time they fell behind, leaping on ahead when they caught up. He kept up a fast pace, his ears twitching as he rolled along though the heavy underbrush. The sunlight filtering down through the trees slowly began to wane, dusk turning what had seemed a bright, green, and warm place into a world of menacing shadows and twisted unfamiliar shapes. Scully was lagging again, finally tired enough to put aside her annoyance and accept Mulder's offer of his arm. She leaned against him gratefully, admitting - albeit only to herself - that she was having a hard time holding onto the belief that this was only a dream. Her eyes closed once in exhaustion and she stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry of dismay. "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, immediately bending down over her. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, though her face was screwed tight in pain. She felt like she wanted to cry. Mulder helped her up, then led her over to the shelter of a large oak. At least most of the plants seemed basically the same as those on earth, he thought, as they sat down among the roots and leaves. The 'gargoyle' as Mulder had come to think of him, bounced over to stand looking down at them. His tiny eyes studied them with what Mulder would have sworn was a look of impatience. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said wearily. "But we've had it. We've got to rest for a while. This seems like a nice enough place to make camp." Mulder looked around at the trees and bushes, thinking that it actually seemed exactly like every other bit of the forest they had trekked through for the past several hours. The 'gargoyle' looked over his shoulder, then back at them. Then he gave a sneezy sigh and came towards them, squatting down to sit close to Mulder's outstretched legs. Mulder smiled at him, putting his arm around Scully's shoulder guiding her head down to rest against his chest. She immediately closed her eyes and snuggled against him, her breathing becoming slow and steady as she drifted off to sleep. Mulder and the 'gargoyle' sat staring at each other for a while. The creature seemed almost expectant, like he was waiting for Mulder to do something. Could they communicate? Mulder hadn't tried since they'd arrived in this world, mostly because he didn't want to faint again. But now, since they were taking a rest anyway, maybe he could give it a try. But perhaps, they could start with something simpler first. When he was certain the gargoyle was watching him, he pointed to himself and said, "Mul-der,"slowly and clearly pronouncing each syllable. Then he pointed to Scully and said, "Scul-lee." He then slowly pointed his finger towards the 'gargoyle,' who reacted instantly, pulling away and wrapping his hands around his face and cowering. Hmmm, Mulder thought, finger pointing must have a negative cultural significance. How could he do this without upsetting him? Mulder waited until the gargoyle peeked out through his arms, then offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest and said again, "Mul-der." He pressed his hand against Scully's shoulder and repeated, "Scul-lee." The creature's head poked out from behind his arms, his ears beginning to twitch. Mulder again repeated the movements and words slowly. Then, ever so slowly, he moved his hand towards the gargoyle, keeping fingers together, and pressed against his chest. The gargoyle recoiled again, but not as much as before. Mulder again repeated his circuit, "Mulder..Scully...;" he touched the creature again. Ears twitching even harder, the gargoyle bobbed his head. Opening his mouth, he spoke softly. "Mmool-dor. Ssskallee. Taaarnoor." Mulder grinned brightly as the sounds were repeated, this time accompanied by a mimicking of his hand motions. The excited creature pointed at Mulder, "Mooldar..." He pointed at Scully, "Skaallee...' He pointed at himself, "Tarnor." Mulder nodded and excitedly repeated: "Mulder, Scully, Tarnor!" Tarnor bobbed his head again, and bared large pointed teeth in smile. "Tarnor!" - - - - - Raising its long nose into the wind, the large wolf-like creature drew back its red lips, baring long jagged fangs dripping with saliva. The droplets sizzled as they hit the grass below, burning the green foliage to black cinders. Eyes burning yellow, ears laid back against its black-furred head, it sniffed again, then let loose a horrific keening howl that was soon answered in kind by several others. It leaped up onto its powerful hind legs, which ended in three-inch long claws, and raced deeper into the forest, joining up with one, then another, then yet another sleek dark form. - - - - - Tarnor shivered in fear as his sensitive ears responded to the howls whistling in the wind. His entire body tensed as he recognized the sound. Soul-eaters! Several of them by the sound of it. Ignoring Mulder's startled reaction, the small gray gargoyle jumped to his feet and spun around, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. This was why it had pushed them so hard to try to get to the safety of a village or settlement before dark fall. It hadn't been particularly frightened of the more intelligent creatures of the dark - the force of Mulder's aura and the purity of the power that flowed like clear spring water from every pore of the alien magician's body would be enough to frighten them away. The hunters and destroyers might watch and wait in the shadows, but they would never dare attack such magical strength. However, the soul-eaters were simple animals, driven solely by instinct. Mulder's wild, unshielded magic would smell like a rich source of food to them. Over the last few years, they had killed several newborn mages throughout the Realm. Tarnor shuddered, he had once seen the result of the attack of a pack of the soul-eaters on a small farm. Reinald had sent Tarnor to offer help and protection for the mage-gifted baby and its family, but he had arrived hours too late. There had been a large, empty crater where house and barn had once existed. Dying, the child had resisted the soul-eaters drain on her magic just long enough to blast them, herself, and her entire family into eternity. Another series of wrenching howls split the air, and this time Mulder's human ears could hear them too. He shook Scully gently as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Tarnor?" he questioned, fear beginning to trickle its way down his spine. "What was that?" He shook his head in frustration. Tarnor couldn't understand him, and he couldn't take the chance on the exhausting mental communication if danger threatened. If only there was a better way to communicate. "What...Mulder?" Scully murmured wearily, brushing a tangled knot of auburn hair out of her eyes. "I think we've got trouble," he replied, feeling for the security of his gun. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the back of her hand, then came to sudden awareness as the keening wails grew louder in intensity. "Mulder, what was that?" "I don't know, Scully. But I don't like the sound of it, and neither does Tarnor." Mulder pointed to the little gargoyle who was standing nearby, stretched to his full - small - height with a large silver dagger clasped tightly in his right hand. "Tarnor?" Scully asked, glancing from her tall partner to the small creature and back again. "That's his name," Mulder replied. "We were able to exchange names while you were sleeping, but it looks there won't be time for anything more." Tarnor was moving again, waving at them to follow him as he pushed his way deeper into the heavy underbrush. Mulder and Scully eyed each other for a moment, but another high-pitched howl behind them sent them into rapid motion. Tarnor led them in a wild dash through the tangled woods, feeling his way almost by instinct. Scully was able to follow reasonably well, her small size helpful, although she often found herself falling, scrambling to her feet, and rushing forward only to fall again. The tender skin of her face, hands and arms became scratched and bruised by tree limbs, branches and thorns. One shoe got wedged in a tree-root, and she didn't even bother to try to dislodge it, she simply pulled her foot out of it and ran on. Behind her, Mulder was having an even harder time of it, his height becoming a serious liability as Tarnor led them through low-hanging branches and dense thickets of a thorny, ivy-like brush that grew in huge rambling clumps. Trying to force his lanky frame through one such hedge, he lost sight of both Scully and Tarnor. Before he could finish weeding his way through the tangled brush, a scream rent the air. "Scully!" he screamed, struggling against a thorn- covered tangle that had penetrating far enough through his now- ragged silk shirt to abrade the flesh of his chest. He tugged at it violently, hardly noticing the pain as the thorns bit deep into his hand. "Scully!" "Mulder...Aaaaaah!" her voice faded off into a screech, that was accompanied by a deep, inhuman growl. "Scully!" he cried again in frustration, his shirt ripping as he was finally able to pull clear, emerging into a small, moonlit clearing. The scene that met his eyes in a that brief terrifying instant sent waves of shock, fear, and fury through his body. In the darkness of the forest night the yellow light of two bright moons filtered down through the leafy canopy to hit the ground in wavy striations. In one such patch of light, Tarnor was facing two large animals, with jagged fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and long wolf-like bodies. They circled him easily on their four legs, just out of range of the long, gleaming silver knife in his grasp. Back to back with Tarnor, Scully was balancing from shoed foot to bared foot, her clothes in rags, bright hair falling around her face in knotted tangles. Her blue eyes blazed defiantly out of her smudged face. She was holding a large broken tree limb in one hand and her spray-can of mace in the other. Facing her were two more of the creatures, one growling menacingly, the other whining as it pawed at its eyes. In that same instant that Mulder broke into the clearing, the two 'wolves' facing Tarnor attacked. His knife flashed in the dim light, accurately hitting one wolf dead in the eye. It yelped and fell, its weight tearing the knife hilt out of Tarnor's hand even as the other animal bit into his arm, lifing the small gargoyle up of the ground with a mighty twist of its large head and tossing it back to the ground. Tarnor's agonized scream as the bone of his forearm cracked broke Scully's concentration. As she reflexively turned her head to see what was happening behind her, the remaining unwounded beast struck out at her, knocking her to the ground with its front claws. Growling its triumph, it leapt over her, covering her body with its own. "No!" Mulder screamed, instinctively pulling out his gun and firing. The gun clicked repeatedly, but did not fire. "Damn it!" he cried, throwing the useless metal object to the ground and launching himself at the 'wolf' as its teeth dug through her clothes into the soft skin of her shoulder, its poisoned saliva burning the skin of her neck. Mulder came down on top of the beast, tightening his arms around its neck, pressing his fingers into the hollow of its throat with all of his panicked strength. It responded by shaking itself, pulling back just enough to turn around and glare at its attacker. Enraged hazel eyes clashed with maddened yellow orbs, then the beast abandoned the woman pinned beneath it and rolled over onto man still clenched to its back. Then it shook itself free of him, somersaulting over onto its powerful hind legs, then pushing upwards to stand over him. The other two surviving 'wolves' swiftly joined it to form a circle around Mulder, pressing in on him with hunger in their glowing eyes. Mulder felt a sudden strange weakness over come in, much the same feeling he'd had after the psychic communications with Tarnor and Reinald back in the lab. A small detached part of his mind couldn't help thinking how far away that all seemed right now. "No, Mulder!!!!" Scully's voice barely penetrated the haze fogging his mind. It would be so easy to sleep now. So easy to just close his eyes... "MULDER!!!!!" The insistent sound of her voice kept breaking the spell. "Scully?" He trembled in response to her demand, forcing his eyes to open. He was confronted by a pair of snarling beast-mouths full of huge pointed teeth and jagged fangs. The moisture from their mouths made his skin itch and burn. Backing slightly away, he again heard Scully crying his name over and over. Suddenly it was as though he could feel her pain and her fear. He could see the way he appeared to her eyes, feel the pain lancing through his/her shoulder, hear the beating of her heart and the choking sob of her breath. "No!" He wasn't even sure which of them had said it, but it didn't matter. He was abruptly angry. Calmly, icily, furious. The rage swept through his mind and body, pushing out all the fear and pain and uncertainty before it. The torpor was replaced by a flood of energy which raced down every nerve of his body, firing synapse after synapse, like an electric charge through a power line. Each sinew of his body trembled as it fed the current, pressure building in his veins until they felt like they would burst. The power increased, building within him until he felt like he was about to burst into flames, his body shaking with the need for release. Blue fire lanced across his skin, igniting the night in a firestorm of blinding blue light. The beasts let out horrific wails of terror, their attempts to flee failing as they went up in blazes of blue flame, burning into cinders in no more than a blink of an eye. Lightning bolts flashed from the sky, striking the ground in a pattern of electrical discharge, mixing clear white light with the deep blue fire that danced and twisted, twining around each thunderbolt as it struck from the sky. Huge black clouds occluded the moons, creating a deep blue fog that hovered and spread across the forest. Finally, a column of blue flame followed back up the path of a lightning strike, hitting the center of the cloud with a deafening bang. The ground shook slightly, then the heavens burst, sending a flood of water crashing down on top of three small forms laying still and trembling on the forest floor. ------------------------ ----------------- Pain lanced through Reinald's head as he slowly came to awareness. His next sensation was that of cold hard stone pressed against his nose and mouth. Groaning slightly, he lifted his head, only to feel a violent rush of nausea overwhelm him. Closing his eyes, he only barely held it down, whispering the chant of a basic restoration spell. The magic response was sluggish, trickling through his veins in slow drops. But finally the roiling fever in his belly receded, as did the pounding behind his temples. He succeeded in pulling himself to a sitting position, running long fingers through his shock of white hair. His ornate, brightly colored robe was crumpled and dusty, stained with ash and splotches of ink. The room was quiet and dark, the chalked diagrams on the floor smudged and broken. How long had he been unconscious? Reinald's head jerked upright, his eyes coming to sharp focus as the memories returned: Tarnor lost through the vortex, communication with a foreign intellect, the struggle to re- open the vortex out of phase, the overwhelming backlash of energies through the link, followed by a deep black nothingness. Had the attempt succeeded? Had Tarnor and the foreigners made it through? Reinald needed answers, but he was hardly in shape to get up and walk, much less utilize his overextended magic. Resting his head in his hands, he sent up a silent prayer to the Gods to protect both his friend and the strangers until he could recover enough of his strength to help them. Struggling to his feet, Reinald fought another wave of nausea, stumbling over to the old, red-satin chair in the corner. Sinking into its rich padded comfort, he sighed, then reached for the cold pot of tea resting on a carved wooden table. Pouring the cold liquid into a small silver cup, he lifted it to his lips and forced it down, grimacing at the taste. Normally, he could have warmed it with a thought, now it was difficult to even bring it to his lips. But the spell-enhanced tea went to work almost immediately, giving him a warm rush of energy. He quickly downed the cupful, then filled and drained it two more times. Finally, he felt some of his strength beginning to return. He could pull upon the power node resting deep in the caverns below the castle, but he had already put enough of a strain on it in the previous months, and felt that it would be better for him to handle this under his own power if at all possible. Feeling his muscles ache after the many hours spent sleeping on the cold stone floor, Reinald got to his feet and weeded his way through the clutter to a high, blue velvet-covered pedestal. Placing both hands along the edges, he leaned over it for a few minutes, eyes closed, body swaying slightly as he concentrated. Swiftly removing the cloth, the prematurely white- haired magician stared down into the Oracle Cloud, using all of his weakened power to focus on the missing Tarnor. Where was his old friend? The soft white light in the large, perfectly spherical glass-like orb flashed, then faded. Slowly an image took shape. A small moonlit clearing in the great woods, into which burst a small gray figure brandishing a large silver knife. Stumbling after it came the slightly larger form of a human woman, her odd- looking clothes ripped and dirty, her face filled with anguish and uncertainty. As she turned to look behind her, four large shapes dove out of the trees in front of them. Reinald watched in horror as the battle commenced, gargoyle and woman fighting a losing battle against the four dark beasts. Reinald tensed himself, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the sides of the orb violently, trying to reach out with his remaining power to offer whatever help he could. Before he could even begin a man burst through out of the thickets and dived in on top of the animal assaulting the woman. As it turned to engage this new adversary, the man's aura suddenly blazed up in a blinding blue flash of color. Reinald gasped in shock, his eyes widening at such a display of unshielded power. The soul-eaters immediately abandoned Tarnor and the woman, circling in on the unfamiliar magician. In response to their attention, his aura began to fade, energy leeching into the dark hollow centers of the beasts as they hungrily devoured the mage-energy. "No!" Reinald shouted, his voice ringing against the vaulted ceiling of his work-room. Again he tried to reach out with aid, but his strength was failing. He cried out in frustration, forced to stand by and watch as a much-needed possible ally was slowly destroyed. But abruptly the tide turned. Reinald felt his jaw drop as the woman's greenish-brown aura reached out to the blinking blue aura of the weakening mage, steadying its color and enriching its tone. A mix of blue and green and brown swirled for a moment, then broke in bright blue flash that nearly blinded Reinald's magic-sensitive eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, Reinald sensed more than saw the growing Mage-storm, feeling every nerve in his body tingle in response to the intensity of the power being focused and released several long miles away. Bright blue light illuminated the entire chamber in a violent flash, then was gone. Reinald slowly lowered his protective arm and blinked as his eyes slowly readjusted to the dimmed light. When he could see clearly, he peered back down into the darkened Oracle Cloud, amazed to see three figures stirring on the water-lashed ground, large scorched area marking the spots where the soul-eaters had been consumed. For now, they had survived, though Reinald knew there were other dangers lurking in the miles of forest between the three and the safety of Fairwood Keep. There had to be a way of getting them here faster. If Reinald had his full strength, he could have easily constructed a Gate and brought them here instantly. But now that was out of the question. He could use the castle's power node, but that would mean draining it to a dangerously low level. If only there were another way. Reinald recovered the Oracle Cloud and slowly wandered back to his favorite chair. Once seated he reached for a large, heavy book with an intricately-carved metal binding. Perhaps, there was another way. - - - - - Fox Mulder was the first to awaken. Curling over onto his side, he cradled his aching head in his right arm. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as things slowly wavered into focus. "Scully!" he cried out, but his voice came out of chapped lips in a hoarse whisper. Pressing hands down into the thick deep soil, he struggled to his knees, then awkwardly scrambled over on all fours to his partner. She lay shivering in a fetal position, right hand wrapped tight around her bloody left shoulder. Her face was half-hidden by a knot of matted dark-red hair, her lips moving, but soundless, her breath coming in choking gasps. Mulder kneeled over her, brushing the hair out of her face with a gentle sweep of his hand. "Mulder," she gasped, rolling over to face him. "I'm okay, I think." She shuddered as she came to a sitting position, leaning gratefully against the warmth of his body. She pulled away the blackened edges of blue and white cloth from her wounds, grimacing in pain. Deftly, she examined the wounds, sighing with relief as she realized the beast's teeth had not done more than lacerate her skin, causing it to bleed profusely. Her biggest problem seemed to be a total lack of anything to bind the wound with. But Mulder was ahead of her, already stripping of his jacket. "Here, do what you can with this, I'm going to check on Tarnor." She nodded, taking the already ripped jacket from him with a smile of thanks. He squeezed her undamaged shoulder with his right hand briefly, glancing over at Tarnor who was already sitting up, clutching at his left arm which hung from the elbow at an impossible angle. His skin had turned from a lustrous gray to a dusty black and his ears lay flat and limp against his head. Mulder closed his eyes in sympathy, then opened them again, the irises turning as black as the dark-widened pupils. Brushing with annoyance at the bangs glued to his forehead with the back of his forearm, he stood up and went over to Tarnor, kneeling down beside him. Mulder gave the wounded gargoyle as reassuring a smile as he could, then he pulled the ragged already undone tie off his neck and peered around him, searching for a usable piece of wood. Finally he spotted a broken tree limb not far from his reach. Grabbing it, he turned back to Tarnor, only to be faced again with the communication problem. However, Tarnor seemed to understand what Mulder meant to do, and he bobbed his head, his ears perking up a couple of inches. "Okay, little one. I'll try not to hurt you too much," Mulder spoke soothingly, hoping that at least the sound of his voice would let Tarnor know he didn't want to hurt him. Tarnor screwed his face up in a tight grimace, slowly extending the broken arm towards Mulder who rested the tie and branch on his knees and carefully reached out to touch Tarnor's arm. Working as quickly, yet gently as he could, he examined the wounds, relieved to find that though the gargoyle was bleeding, the teeth marks did not appear to be deep. The worst of the injury was the obviously broken bone, and once that was splinted, Tarnor ought to be all right for a while. He met Tarnor's eyes, then looked down at the arm, then back up into the gargoyle's tiny grey eyes. Tarnor's eyes blinked, then met Mulder's square arm, somehow managing to indicate understanding. "Well, better get it over with," Mulder said, even though he knew Tarnor wouldn't understand. He held the creature's arm as gently as he could, to avoid moving the splintered bone and causing Tarnor even more agony, and picked up the tree limb. Holding it against Tarnor's arm, with one hand, he firmly looped the thin strip of material that had once been a silk tie around it, splinting the arm. "Not bad, Mulder, for an amateur." Scully had finished binding her shoulder with strips of cloth torn from his ruined jacket. She sat down behind him and eyed Tarnor anxiously. "Though I suppose I'm as much an amateur in 'gargoyle' medicine as you are." Mulder couldn't help smiling at the mix of frustration and curiosity in her voice. At least it seemed she was finally accepting the reality of their situation, even though it was a reality he was beginning to dislike intensely. Mulder sat back on his heels and looked anxiously around him. The rain had finally stopped, thank goodness, but they were still lost in the middle of the deep forest, probably miles form any source of help, even if he'd had any idea of which direction to go. No chance that his cellular phone would work, Mulder thought grimly, eyeing the surrounding trees with distrust. There had actually been a time when he had liked forests, but right now he'd had more than enough of them for several lifetimes. Scully gave a choking gasp, her body convulsing. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to pull her into his embrace. "What's wrong?" "I...I don't know," she replied through gritted teeth. "I feel like my shoulder is burning from the inside." Mulder kept one hand around her waist as he probed at her shoulder with the other. A tight knot formed in his belly as he suddenly noticed the charring of both the cloth and the skin around the wounds. His hand crept up to his own neck, as a burning itch made itself known in spots along his throat and chin. Poison! The beasts' saliva must contain some kind of toxin. Since he was not feeling more than some surface discomfort, it must be necessary for the the poison to enter the bloodstream as it had in both Scully and Tarnor. Scully met his eyes, obviously coming to the same conclusion as he had. The fear and worry in her deep blue eyes made him feel sick. They didn't know for sure that the toxin was deadly, but it was a pretty safe bet, especially since they were probably miles away from any source of medical assistance. Mulder felt an intense but familiar sense of guilt wash over him. Why was he always the one who survived, while everyone he cared about was hurt or lost. He should be the one poisoned, not Scully, or even Tarnor. Mulder had come to like the funny little creature in the short time he'd known him. They'd barely had the chance to begin to communicate. It just wasn't fair! Mulder sat in a dejected silence for a several long moments, wallowing in a pit of anguish, guilt and despair. Scully sat equally still, watching him, her mind churning, even as she felt herself begin to weaken as the poison spread. The odd thing was that she was more worried about him than she was about herself. He had already lost so much, losing her could destroy him. And that was if his own overblown guilt didn't do the job first. 'Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to do you - or us - any good," she chided. "So get up off your sorry butt and do something!" 'Just what am I supposed to do?' he asked, the sound of their voices unnaturally loud among the muted rustles of the leaves and the pitter-patter of water dripping off the trees. 'Get help, you idiot!' she replied, her voice breaking off into a series of painful gasps, as another set of convulsions rocked her body. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to take her back into his arms, stoking her head until the shaking subsided. He watched her, cradling her, as she slowly slipped into an uneven sleep. 'I have to get help. I will get help,' he whispered, wishing he had even the slightest idea how. But the power of his brilliant intellect was already focusing in on the problem at hand. Consider the situation, he told himself: you're lost, you have two seriously injured people, there appears to be no one around for miles, you have no physical means of communication over any distance, no transportation. If only... Of course! Mulder's head jerked upright, his eyes glittering with reflected moonlight. Maybe, just maybe he could reach the other person he'd talked with through Tarnor back in the lab. It would be difficult without Tarnor, Mulder didn't even know how to start, but if they'd been able to communicate through the vortex, it ought to be easier when they were both in the same world. Though, that was assuming they were in the same world. But he didn't have any better ideas, so nothing was lost by trying this one. Mulder looked around him for a moment, then sighed and let go of Scully. He stretched himself out on the ground, his hands resting by his sides, then closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths. After a few moments of attempting to calm down, he gave up on the hopeless effort and simply tried to focus on calling out to that other mind. His photographic memory clicked into gear, supply a detailed record of the sound and feel of that voice. A series of hazy images flashed against the back of his eyelids: a shock of white hair, chalk drawings on a gray-stone floor, a deep, musical voice, a large glowing round orb. "Please answer me, we need help. If anyone is there, we need help. Help me please, help me, help..." - - - - - Reinald's head snapped up as the heavy book slid out of his fingers and fell onto his feet with a bang. His head filled with the pleading cry for assistance that echoed loudly in his mind, Reinald didn't even notice the pain. Impatiently kicking the huge tome aside, he focused completely on that voice, grabbing hold of it mentally, as he fought his way over to the Oracle Cloud, ignoring the crash of several bottles he accidentally knocked off of a nearby table. Pulling off the velvet covering, he placed his hands on either side of the glowing orb and threw his thoughts back down that link, feeling the other mind recoil in surprise at the unexpected contact. "I'm here!" he replied. "I can hear you." - - - - - Mulder's eyes flew open as a strong, clear voice spoke in his head, responding to his call for help. This wasn't like the faint link he'd had before, this was like having a microphone inserted into his skull. He could FEEL the other mind touching his, a sensation he couldn't even begin to describe, even to himself. He was assaulted by an intensity of sensations, each piling on top of the last, until he wasn't sure which of him/them was laying prone on the forest floor and which was standing with his hands tightly gripping a smooth clear ball. "Take it easy, it's okay," the voice in his mind soothed, the sound toning down in volume. "Tell me your situation," it continued, gently persuasive. "We're lost in the woods somewhere, I have no idea where. We were attacked by these wolf-like creatures." A picture of the beast with its slavering, fanged mouth and brutal eyes swam in front of his eyes, and with it came a sudden sense of recognition and a name, 'soul-eater.' Mulder shook his head briefly, then forced himself to continue, just barely beginning to get hold of this silent, but vivid form of communication. "The 'soul-eaters' attacked my friends, breaking Tarnor's arm and gouging Scully's shoulder. The wounds aren't too bad, but I think they've been poisoned." Reinald shook with anger and grief as those images flooded his mind. But Mulder was still mind-speaking in a panicked rush of words and images. "Those things surrounded me. I thought I was dying, but Scully kept calling me, so I tried to get away" Even his mindvoice trembled. "...I don't know exactly what happened next, but it felt like I was burning up inside. There was this flash of blue light, then I must have fainted. When I woke up the beasts were gone. But Scully and Tarnor are burning up. I don't know if there is a way to counteract the poison. They need a doctor immediately." The concept of a 'doctor' was accompanied by a serious of almost frightening alien images. Reinald tried to grasp hold of the basics, and sighed with relief as he finally understood. Of course, he should have realized by context, a 'doctor' was a kind of healer. "Yes, I understand," he mindspoke back along the wavering link. "The 'soul-eaters' poison can be treated by any good healer, if it is gotten to before it reaches the brain. Our biggest problem is getting to you in time." "How long have we got?" Mulder asked, panic warring with hope. "Do you have any idea how much distance between us?" This thought was colored by a sense of amazement that they were talking at all. That emotion caused Reinald his own quick moment of surprise, but it was put aside for later. Reinald considered the question, his mind ranging along the link. "A couple of hours at the most, maybe less for Tarnor, because he's smaller. Unfortunately, you are about three days walk from here; one, maybe one and a half days by horse," he replied. His voice took on a deep note of regret as he added, "I wish we could set up a Gate." "Gate?" Mulder questioned, now the one struggling with an unfamiliar concept. "A magic portal between two locations. I know how to build one, but it usually takes two magicians, and a great deal of energy. I used up most of mine opening the vortex out of its natural phase, and I don't know what your energy level is. Destroying the soul-eaters must have drained you to some extent." Mulder frowned in concentration, trying to grasp the images that accompanied the words. Luckily he had an extremely vivid imagination, it leaped into the gaps, building bridges that might not be real, but would hold for the moment. "If we had a Gate, how long would it take us to get from here to there?" "No time at all - it would be instantaneous," Reinald answered, his face settling into mirror-image of Mulder's frown, deep-etched grooves wrinkling the skin around his eyes. He had had too much to frown about in the past year. Mulder nodded. "Okay, then show me how to make this Gate thing." "It's not that easy," Reinald protested. "It takes years to learn just the basic theory." "We don't have time for that, now," Mulder insisted with calm determination. If this was what it took to save Scully, then he was going to do it. No matter what it did to him. "Just show me how it's done." Reinald thought furiously for a moment, his mind going in circles. The other mage's grim certainty pricked at the edge of his mind like a sharp sword's edge. Fully trained magicians had died in the backlash of badly constructed gates, but on the other hand, all three were certainly dead if they didn't try. The long- distance transportation spell he'd been searching for might be strong enough to bring through the small gargoyle, but definitely not the two humans. And there was no certainty that it could bring anyone through alive. He took a deep breath and gritted his jaw. He could not stand by and let them die. There was no other option, he decided, sending a wave of acceptance down the link. "This is not going to be easy. It will take perfect concentration, and you must NOT let go of your end. Do not let anything interfere, or we're both dead." Mulder swallowed nervously, doubt beginning to curl its way into the pit of his stomach. One quick glance at Scully's pale face tightened his resolve, and he sent the mental equivalent of a nod down the link. "I understand." "All right," Reinald said, adjusting his position above the globe. He closed his eyes and began to send a flood of images down the link, letting his last memory of building a Gate wave over them both. Mulder pushed up into a standing position, his hazel eyes focused inward as he absorbed every detail, using his eidetic memory to lock them into place. Finally the deluge slowed to a crawl, then sputtered to a stop. "Do you understand?" Reinald's mindvoice was tinged with mixture of worry and determination "I...I think so," Mulder answered, not in the least certain that he understood anything at all. Reinald paused for a brief moment, to find his center and take another deep breath. "I'll start, be ready." "I'll be ready." Mulder mindspoke firmly. For Scully, he thought grimly. He would make this work for Scully. - - - - - Even braced as he was for it, the sudden blast of power was overwhelming. Mulder sank to the ground under the weight of it, grappling for control. White and blue flames swirled around his body, running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs, sparks flying from his finger tips, as he fought to wrap his mind around the wayward energy. It was too much, he thought with panic, he was going to fail, and Scully would die because of his failure. Grief and anger washed over him, propelling him to reach just a little deeper into mental reserves he had never known he possessed. Straining until the blue of his veins stood out in sharp relief under his pale skin, until his brain felt like it would burst out of his skull, Mulder finally was able to seize onto the power. It was like a door opening in his mind, suddenly he just knew how to manipulate the power. Under his wavering, but increasingly determined control, the power surged and tightened, forming into a blazing column of light surrounding his quaking body. Relief bringing the salty sting of tears to his eyes, he pulled himself to his feet, his mind holding onto the stream of magical energy like a drowning man hanging onto a floating tree limb. Once on his feet, he simply held it for a while, sensing the wildness of the magic begin to calm into an steady, even flow of bright light. He held out his hands and watched the blue and white flames shimmer up and down his arms, amazed that he felt nothing more than an intense warm glow, much like the sun on a hot summer day. Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him, as he couldn't help wondering what Skinner would say if he could see this. But time was short. In shimmer of the magic, he could see Scully's skin turning a splotchy, angry red. Choking off his laughter, Mulder took a deep breath and reviewed Reinald's instructions. He needed to 'ground' it. That idea was accompanied by an image of the magic light burrowing into the earth. Okay, he thought, I ought to be able to do that. Closing his eyes, he tightened his mental hold on the power and relived that image. Down, down, into the earth he pushed the light, pressing with all his strength. The magic shivered and circled around him, resisting the push, but finally acceding to his will. Streams of blue fire merged into the soil, sending up sparks as it hit the ground, then weaved its way downward, disappearing below the surface. Mulder pushed for what seemed an eternity, until he gasped for breath in a whistling rush, his lungs fighting for the air he had unknowingly been denying them. The magic column shivered, and nearly flew backwards, but as Mulder drew sweet air into his lungs, he gave it one final mental push and it held. He took a couple more breaths, then checked it again. To his surprise it was still and quiet, anchored deep in the ground. He gave it one more downward twist, then relaxed, sliding down into the cool, wet forest floor in near- exhaustion. Long moments slid by as he fought to remain conscious. Bending his head down between his knees, he heaved violently, his empty stomach convulsing. A few drops of stomach acid dripped from his mouth, and he spat them away in disgust. At this point, the pain was almost a comfort because it kept him awake. There was too much left to do. He hadn't come this far to fail now. Battling against a wave of dizziness, he somehow got back to his feet. He paused there for a moment, then pulling on the last vestiges of his strength, buoyed only by an intense stubborn determination, he again reached out for the power. Seizing a current, he tossed it a few feet across the current, his mind flowing with it as it hit the ground. Again, he pushed it downwards, surprised to find the anchoring to be easier this time. Just one more push and a wrenching twist, and it was done. Mulder stepped back and studied the flaming arch with widened eyes. Voracious gusts of wind, disturbed by the presence of the mage-energy, whipped at his body, tore at his dark hair and ragged clothes, sent sparks of light flying from the shimmering half-circle. But again, as bone-achingly tired as he was, there was yet more to do. Stepping into the center of the arch, Mulder reached for the now-familiar mindlink, gasping in relief as he felt approval and reassurance flow into his nearly- drained mind. "Good, good," Reinald felt a silly grin growing on his face. He had had some chilling moments as he could only watch and pray that the young, untrained talent could keep his control. But somehow the young mage had, and there was only one last step to take. "Send it to me!" he commanded, bracing his feet on the floor as he felt Mulder's mind begin to focus in response. A blast of white fire hit him, and Reinald staggered under its weight for a brief moment, before he bent it to his will. Straining, his still-weakened body screaming in protest, he bent the stream of power, twining into the original blue flame that he had created earlier, arching the magical braid into a perfect semi- circle. Then with a practiced mental twist, he grounded it into the stone floor, creating a mirror image to the arch facing Mulder in the far distant woods. - - - - - Mulder gave in to the tears as he watched the center of the arch begin to cloud up. The air itself seemed to bend and ripple, finally forming into a a shimmering curtain through which he could see a large, cluttered room with huge stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with books. Until this very moment, a small part of him had not believed this was possible, but there it was right in front of his blinking, streaming eyes. He rubbed at his eyes with a dirt-encrusted hand, spreading streaks of mud across his cheeks, even as a smile broke its way onto his face. Through the 'curtain' he could see a tall, middle-aged man with a bright shock of white hair, and weary, heavily-lined face staring at him with an expression of amazed relief. They stared at each other for a moment, then the white- haired man moved quickly through the portal and grabbed onto Mulder as his legs finally gave way. "Easy, easy," Reinald said gently, putting his arm under Mulder's to hold him up. "You did even better than I'd hoped. Let's get you into the castle." "No, no," Mulder protested weakly. He turned to look behind him at the two unconscious forms on the ground. "Scully...and Tarnor. Help them. Must help them." his voice was barely audible. "I will," Reinald reassured him, half-dragging him towards the shining Gate. "You go through first, then I'll get the others." "No," Mulder pulled himself free of the other's grasp and stumbled, wavering like a drunk, towards Scully's prone body. Obviously, during his precoccupation with the Gate she had remained unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best he thought, wearily, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out to take her into his arms, relieved to feel her stir and wiggle against him. Then, with no conscious comprehension of anything except the need to bring her to safety, he managed to draw her limp, unresisting body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. Reinald ran to help him, but Mulder nodded him away, angling his head towards Tarnor, not wanting to waste a single breath on speech. Reinald studied him for a brief moment, but noting the glitter of determination in those burning diamond eyes, accepted Mulder's decision and went to pick up Tarnor. Step by weary step, both men carried their precious burdens through the Gate. ----------------- The young brown-haired human, clothed in a mage- apprentice's blue and grey, stood protectively in front of the thick oak doors. "You can't go in there!" he insisted, yet again. "Something's gone wrong. What if the Dark Lords have attacked, or what if Reinald has let some dangerous creature in, or opened a Gate to The Goddess knows where. We have to protect the Prince..." The small round man continued to babble, his protruding belly jiggling with every expansive motion of his bejeweled hands. Behind him the Royal Guard Captain snorted. It wasn't like Drellor was going to lead the charge. It was a standing castle joke that the Prince's uncle couldn't even lace his own boots without help. He'd make a lot of noise and make sure he was nearby to claim any glory, but he'd never put one fat finger in jeopardy. Right now Drellor was probably dreaming about replacing Reinald as Regent. Captain Jourdain frowned deeply. Unfortunately, the scheming fool might be right this time. Much as Jourdain respected the Regent/Mage, it was beginning to appear that Reinald had finally gotten in over his head. First he had shut himself in his workroom, barring the door, followed by a serious of loud explosions and a horrendous thunderstorm. Then there had been silence for most of the day, with no sight or sound from Reinald. And now all evidence pointed to the creation of a Gate here. In the castle itself, against all the rules. And a very unsteady Gate from the amount of backlash every magic-sensitive person in the area was feeling. Jourdain did not like the situation at all. Finally fed up with Drellor's ridiculous posturing, the big, muscled Captain pushed the little man aside and strode up to look down at Reinald's newest apprentice. "Look here, Grejor. I know Reinald told you not to let anyone in, and normally you couldn't make me disturb a working magician for all the gold in the Realm. But something is wrong here, and I have to find out what before it becomes a serious threat to the Prince. You are going to have to let us in." Before Grejor could respond, there was a loud creaking noise and the door slowly began to swing inwards. Drellor let out a squeak of alarm and scurried back behind two of the armed guards. Grejor moved over beside the Captain, only the darting of his eyes and the sweat beading up on his lower lip betraying his uncertainty and fear. The wave of relief was nearly audible as Reinald peeked his white-haired head out the door. Barely noticing the soldiers, his eyes fastened on the slender brown form of his apprentice. "There you are Grejor. Good. We've got some company and they need medical assistance immediately. Better go get Healer Corvay." Grejor and Jourdain just gaped at Reinald. His hair stood on end and his normally immaculate robe was covered in filth. Reinald ignored the open-mouthed stares, chiding Grejor briskly. "Move along there young fellow. We need the Healer here now!" His voice rose on the last word, his eyes flashing in emphasis. Trained to follow his master's orders, Grejor jerked in response, blurting "Yes, Mage," as he fled down the hall. "Now look here, Reinald," Jourdain said to the magician's back as he let go of the door and hurried back into the room. Jourdain caught the door before it shut fully in his face and pushed his way past it. Half-way across the threshold, he stopped short in his tracks, a look of utter amazement filling his blue eyes. The bright shimmering arch of a Gate filled the center of the room, opening into a small forest glade. Just this side of the Gate were three people, the small familiar figure of a gray gargoyle and two completely unfamiliar humans, dressed in the remnants of odd-looking garments. Both the gargoyle and one of the humans, a woman, were laying on the floor shivering with fever, their eyes glazed and skins flushed red. Leaning over the woman was a tall, slender man with disheveled dark hair and eyes of a color Jourdain couldn't quite identify. But what disturbed Jourdain the most was the sense of raw, uncontrolled power that surrounded him. "Ahhh, Captain, Good. I didn't notice you were there." Reinald finally looked up and saw the bulky soldier. "Better give me a hand here. You do know some basic healing spells don't you?" "I'm a soldier, Reinald, not a healer. I can't do more that a simple stasis spell." Jourdain shut the door behind with a deliberate shove, noting with some pleasure that it slammed right into Drellor's big nose. "The two are not necessarily separate, Captain. But for now that will do. You take Tarnor and I'll see to Scully." Reinald hurried over to the two humans and began the simple chant. "That's only a prophecy, Reinald!" Jourdain protested, but another quick glance at the wounded gargoyle convinced him not to waste time. He went to kneel by Tarnor's side and joined Reinald in the chant, their two voices singing in syncopated round, punctuated by annoying knocks on the door. The spells took hold as a soft brown shimmer of light surrounded both Scully and Tarnor. Mulder watched the procedure anxiously, then as Reinald pulled away, he reached up to grab onto Reinald. "What happened? What did you do to her?" Jourdain listened in surprise as the strange man spoke rapidly in an utterly foreign language, heavy with hard consonants. To his further amazement, Reinald answered back fluently in the same language. "We put them into stasis until the Healer can get here. That will at least keep them from deteriorating further." "Stasis? You mean something like cryogenic freezing?" Mulder asked, trying to grasp the concepts without the aid of the psychic link. Reinald frowned. His language spell gave him basic fluency in their odd language, but those words didn't quite translate well. Something to do with intense cold, he shook his head. "I'm sorry..." Further explanations were interrupted by the near-breathless arrival of Grejor with the brown-clad form of the Healer in tow, Drellor following closely behind. Jourdain pushed past the Healer, grabbing Drellor by the front of his robe before the little fat man could open his mouth. Without a word, Jourdain shoved the gaudily-clad noble out the door and shut it in his face, knowing he might have to pay for the act later, but not minding in the least. Whatever revenge Drellor tried to exact would be a small price to pay for not having to listen to the mindless fool now. "What's this about, Reinald?" Healer Corvay asked as he crossed the room, the annoyed look dropping from his face as soon as he saw the two figures in stasis on the floor. "By the Gods!" he swore, shoving Grejor aside to rush to his new patients. "What happened?" "Soul-eaters." Reinald said matter-of-factly. Even the seasoned warrior, Jourdain, shuddered at that thought. Those beasts were enough to frighten anyone. "How did they get away?" Corvay asked as he banished the stasis spells and reached out to touch Tarnor and Scully, writhing as their pain seeped into his body. "Mulder blasted them, but not before they bit Tarnor and Scully." Reinald responded. Mulder had been following the incomprehensible exchange closely, and he glanced up at the tall Mage in response to the sound of his name. "Just explaining what happened," Reinald soothed. "Corvay is an excellent Healer. If anyone can help them, he can." Mulder nodded, having no choice but to accept what Reinald said at face value. Suddenly the lost agent felt an overwhelming fondness for modern hospitals, even though he normally avoided them whenever possible. Right now he'd give his right arm for one. Corvay looked startled at the rapid exchange on the unfamiliar language, but he quickly focused back on his two patients. Closing his eyes, he stabilized their sleeping patterns, then reached with his mind, Tarnor first and then the woman, to find the nerves leading to their damaged extremities and closed them off to dull the pain. Then, he reached into Tarnor's bloodstream and began the slow process of targeting the poison for destruction, encouraging the gargoyle's own immune defenses to recognize the toxin as a foreign entity to be destroyed. Satisfied it was beginning to work, he then did the same for Scully, his mind pushing at the tiny living cells circulating in her blood, encouraging natural antibody production to speed up, helping more of the necessary cells to proliferate and migrate to the contaminated areas. As Corvay worked, lost in the minutiae of his patients bodies, Jourdain caught Reinald's attention with a series of angry questions. "What do you mean, 'Mulder' blasted them? And why did you build a Gate here? You know they're not allowed within the castle! What are you up to, Reinald?" "I didn't have any choice," the magician responded, giving the big soldier an annoyed glare. Jourdain took it calmly, giving as good as he got. Reinald sighed and perched himself on the edge of a table, and began to explain. "Tarnor was scouting for me in the woods, when he ran into a pack of Hunters and Destroyers. Left with no other choice, I told him to chance the vortex." "You what?!" Jourdain exclaimed. "He couldn't let them catch him, he knows too much. Anyway, he got through the portal just fine." "Through to where?" Jourdain questioned with slightly narrowed eyes. "To an alternative Realm, and not The Dark Place, thank the Gods. I still don't know much about the place he went to, the images I got were very confusing. But once the Dark Forces had cleared the area, I was able to reopen the Vortex to pull Tarnor back through..." Reinald paused, and glanced at Mulder, who instantly sensed the glance and looked up from Scully to stare at both men. Jourdain felt the glance, turned to look at Mulder, then back to Reinald. "And them...?" he prodded, none-too-gently. "Tarnor found them," Reinald responded. "The woman has the aura of both a healer and a soldier, mixed brown and green. The man is a magician of extraordinary strength. He may be stronger than I am." "The prophecy!" Jourdain drew a quick breath, and turned to stare at Mulder who glared back. "I think so," Reinald sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Unfortunately, opening the Vortex took all of my strength. I fell asleep for what must have been several hours. By the time I woke up and recovered enough strength to even look for them, they were under attack. Luckily, the Mage was able to destroy the soul-eaters before they drained him, but not quickly enough to stop the others from being hurt. He called for help, and together we were able to build the Gate to bring them here." Jourdain broke his staring contest with Mulder and angled his head back to Reinald. "I don't understand why soul- eaters would attack an adult mage, they usually go after unshielded newborns. And how could he fail to know they were coming and shield himself." Reinald shook his head. "I don't understand it all myself, but I'm afraid Mulder IS like a newborn Mage. He has absolutely no shield and no control." "What?" Jourdain's skin bleached white. "No shield....no control...maybe stronger than YOU! How could that be? How could he survive? How could anyone around him survive?" "I don't know," Reinald replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Their world is so foreign to ours, I don't have enough information on it to answer that." "By the Gods!" Jourdain swore. "Can you keep him contained?" "I think so. He's pure, Jourdain. Of that I'm sure. His aura is clear and untainted." Jourdain shook his head, while he didn't doubt Reinald's assertions, he still was terribly frightened. Trained adult Mages were enough to make most people nervous, untrained children could frighten whole villages until they were taken in hand by an older mage. To have one wandering around with absolutely no training but with a full adult's power, especially one potentially more gifted than the Royal Magician, was a nightmare. The entire court, Drellor in particular, was going to go into seizures when they found out. A sudden thought occurred to him, and it brought the edge of a grim smile to his lips. There was no reason why the court had to find out - at least not yet. No one outside of this room knew, and it had better stay that way. "Can you teach him?" he asked. "Yes, of course I can. It will be difficult, but he managed to help build the Gate on incredibly short notice. He's smart and extremely determined. He'll learn." "He'll have to. But we'll need to keep it quiet. I'll report that you're exchanging spells or something with a foreign magician who is visiting with his...unh..." "Wife." Reinald interrupted. Jourdain looked at him in shock. Mages never married, they rarely even formed close friendships. Reinald smiled. "They ARE foreign, remember. As surprising as it seems, I think they may even be life-bonded." "What!" Jourdain felt like the room was spinning. He'd had one shock to many in too short a period of time. His jaw felt like it was permanently hanging down. But he was a battle- experienced warrior, and he hadn't survived three wars - well, border-skirmishes - to fall apart now. Okay, so he was faced with a living breathing prophecy come true: a totally untrained adult alien mage of extraordinary power, and one with a bond-mate to boot. Well, why not? He grimaced and focused sharp blue eyes on both Reinald and the gaping Grejor. "Nothing of what you've told me leaves this room. They are simply visitors from some far- off land, with slightly odd customs, come to trade spells with you. Once you've got him under some control, we can decide how much more to let out. But nothing more for now. Is that understood?" Grejor just gave a barely perceptible nod. Reinald rubbed at his chin for a moment, considering, then agreed. "All right. But we have to tell the Prince the truth, and Scully will need weapons training. She should be a natural fighter, given her aura. Is there someone you can trust to teach her?" Jourdain thought for a moment, eyeing the still- unconscious woman on the floor with doubtful eyes. Then he nodded slowly. "Aldara can teach her. She's one of the best fighters I've ever seen, and she's about the same size." "Good!" Reinald replied. "Mulder and I can start tomorrow." Mulder again responded to the sound of his name, his eyes darkening with his increasing irritation at not being able to understand the conversation, except for his intuitive recognition that they were discussing him and Scully. At this mention of his name, he stood up and spoke bluntly to Reinald. "What's going on?" "I was just telling Jourdain," Reinald gestured towards the Captain, "what has happened. And we're discussing how to handle your presence here." "You're the one who asked us to come." Mulder's voice was belligerent, his eyes snapping. Reinald saw his aura, drained as it was, flare up, and reached out to soothe the angry Mage. "Yes I was, and I will explain everything to you. I just thought it might be better to explain to you and Scully at once." "Try explaining to me now," Mulder insisted, his face tightening in pain. "Scully is hardly going to be in any condition for explanations for a while." A sudden groan from the woman in question broke into the conversation, and Mulder instantly dropped to his knees beside her. "Scully?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her. Reinald watched in amazement, as Mulder's blue aura flew ahead of his hand, mixing with the faint green/brown of hers, feeding his life energy to her. In response her aura flared and strengthened, merging with the blue flame to produce a bright rainbow where the met. "Mulder..." Scully's eyes slowly opened to see his anxious face peering down at her. She smiled softly, happy to see him there and well. "What happened?" she asked, trying to sit up, but her body was too exhausted to obey, and she slumped back down to the floor. "Hey, take it easy," Mulder warned, though his countenance lightened with his joy at seeing her improve. He didn't know what the Healer had done, but it certainly seemed to have worked. "You were hurt, remember?" "Where are we?" she questioned, staring arund her in amazement. "I found help," he replied succinctly, not wanting to try to explain now. "I'll explain later. Right now you need to rest." She nodded, exhausted, leaning against his arms and closing her eyes. As she slipped into an easy slumber, Mulder swept the hair out of her eyes and looked from Corvay to Reinald. "Tell him thank you," he whispered. ----------------- Mulder and Scully sat back in their chairs, sipping slowly at the odd-tasting potion Corvay had insisted they drink. Scully had been particular loathe to drink anything she didn't know, but Reinald had insisted. He'd even taken a glass of it himself, and was now sitting on a small stool in front of them, drinking from his cup and watching them with some amusement. Mulder looked over at Scully, shrugged and chugged down the rest of his drink. Actually it didn't taste too badly, rather like a very fruity wine, and it caused an immediate sensation of warmth to spread out from his throat and stomach. When Scully saw that it wasn't bothering Mulder too much, she gave in and took a deep swallow. Then she smiled and took another. "This is pretty good." "It's an excellent restorative," Reinald responded. He smiled. "And it has the added benefit of actually tasting good. Most of the healer's concoctions are enough to make anyone sick just from the taste." Mulder laughed, "It looks like there are some constants in life, no matter where you are." Scully threw him a dirty look, then turned back to Reinald. "I have so many questions. How did we get here, and where is here? What were those creatures who attacked us? And what exactly is Tarnor?" Reinald smiled warmly at them both. "Okay, I'll try to start with the basics, but I can't promise to have all the answers. There's a lot I don't know." "Fair enough," Mulder replied. "How you got here? Well, through something we call "the vortex," though what it actually is, we don't know. It reappears every so often in the same part of the forest at regular intervals, and seems to be some kind of gateway between different worlds. Every so often, someone will disappear into it, or some strange creature will appear out of it. It seems to link several worlds together, including yours, mine, and the one our present problem comes from. I took a big chance sending Tarnor through, but it was his only hope." "What problem?" Scully asked. "The beasts who attacked you are only one small part of the terror that has been invading our world from that other realm. We think of it as the Dark Place, since everything that has come from it has been pure evil. Creatures have been attacking our people for close to two years, and every attempt to shut of the vortex has failed. Forcing it open to allow you and Tarnor to come back through is the biggest success I've had with it, and I'm not exactly sure I could do it again." "Wait a minute," Mulder interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. "What do you mean, you might not be able to do it again? Are you saying you may not be able to send us home?" "I..." Reinald gave them an apologetic look, "I'm just not sure. But you may be able to do it for yourself. Mulder, you've got as much magical ability as I do, maybe more." "I have no idea how to do anything, I almost made a disaster out of the Gate. How am I supposed to control the vortex?" "Wait a minute," Scully interrupted. "I don't understand. What Gate? And Mulder's no magician. I mean I don't even believe in magic, and I know Mulder can't do anything like that." Reinald shook his head, this was not going very well. He though for a moment, then tried again. "There must be some very serious differences between our two worlds. Let me tell you a little more about this one. Maybe that will help." Mulder and Scully gave him identical looks of skeptical disbelief, but they both sat back and let him continue. "You are presently in the castle of the King of Fairwood Domain. Unfortunately, the last King died leaving only his five- year old son as heir. The Prince is about 8 years old now, so as well as serving as Royal Magician, I am acting Regent until he turns 16 and comes legally of age. Besides Fairwood, there are two other Kingdoms in this part of the Realm. There are others across the waters, but except for some trading by ship, we don't communicate with them much. "Under the King, there is a collection of noble houses. Representatives of each serve on the council, as well as elected representatives of the major guilds and religions. Also, the three other races have voting seats on the council - Tarnor's people, the trolls, and the elves. The other races usually keep to themselves, and have their own leaders and homes usually separate from human settlements. All in all, we get along pretty well, we haven't had more than occasional border skirmishes in over thirty years. That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of political jockeying around here, the court is rife with it." Mulder and Scully nodded, so far they could follow this fine, and most of it had some familiarity to it. "Now, magic. Hmmm. There do appear to be major differences between our worlds in this respect. I don't quite understand it, but you, Mulder, have one of the strongest Mage auras I've ever seen. You may even be more powerful than I am, and yet you don't seem to know the slightest thing about using it or controlling it. Magically, you're like a newborn Mage, but you are an adult. How did you manage to grow up without training, or even learning to shield?" Mulder shook his head. "We don't seem to HAVE magic in our world, like you do here. A few people have reported what we call 'extrasensory perception,' in that they can sometimes hear another's thoughts or sense things occurring at a distance. A very few may be able to bend a spoon. But that's all. And I've never even demonstrated those abilities. Except maybe for strong intuition, I don't have any talent - or at least I didn't until I got here." "That's amazing!" Reinald said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "A world without magic. It's incomprehensible." "The idea that 'magic' is real is incomprehensible to us. It's just a fantasy writers spin to amuse people. It's not real." Scully broke in. "And I'm not sure I understand what you mean by 'magic.'" "You can think about magic as a kind of energy. It flows through all living things, and we think it may be tied to the basis of life itself, although that is hotly debated since inanimate objects can have magic also. Some people have more of that energy than others, some can see it better, and a few can even manipulate it. That's what defines a mage, someone who has the talent to bend the mage-energy to his will." Scully frowned, it did make a certain amount of sense, though she was still skeptical. "And Mulder has the talent to manipulate this energy stuff?" "Yes, exactly," Reinald answered. "Everyone is different in their sensitivity to it. I think..." he studied her gravely for a moment. "I think you have some slight ability yourself, though its obvious from your aura that you are more of a healer than a Mage, and much more a warrior than a healer." Mulder had been quiet for a while, trying to absorb the information, but he couldn't help responding to the last statement. "Now I could have told you that," he said with a smile. "Shut up, Mulder." Scully said, shooting him a daggered look, then turning back to Reinald. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to get all of this, but what exactly did you mean by our auras? Some people in our world say they can see them, but I've never really understood what they are supposed to be." "They are fields of energy that surrounds every living thing. I think you both can see them if you concentrate on it." Scully gave him an unconvinced stare, but Mulder was game to try. He peered at both Reinald and Scully, twisting his head side to side, squinting. Scully couldn't help letting out a giggle at the sight of him. "Mulder!" she protested lightly. "Hey, I think I got it!" he exclaimed, eyes brightening. "Reinald is all blue, and Scully...you're all green. Well, brown and green. But mostly green!" Reinald smiled at him approvingly, nodding. Scully looked at them both like they were crazy, the sat back in her chair and changed the subject. "How can you speak our language if you've never been to our 'world?'" Reinald grinned. "Through a new creation of mine - a language spell. This is the first chance I've had to try it out. I'm delighted with how well it works." "Can you make one for us to understand your language?" Mulder was fascinated. "Hmm, maybe. Mine is keyed to me, but it should be possible to duplicate it for you. With some training you ought to be able to do it for yourself." Reinald responded thoughtfully. "With training being the operative word," Mulder said with frustration. Scully couldn't help thinking that it might take more than that, but again she changed the subject, this time to something that had been bothering her throughout the conversation. "Magic aside, what about those creatures who attacked us in the woods? You said there were more of them?" she asked. Reinald frowned, his eyes darkening. "Yes, there have been a flood of them over the last two years. Somehow, they seem to have gained some control over the vortex, enough to be sending through an increasing number of creatures. The beasts you fought with are probably the mildest of them." Both Scully and Mulder shuddered at that thought. Reinald nodded grimly. "So far they have been mostly randomly ambushing our people. Attacking the more isolated settlement, an occasional small village, but they're creeping in on us a little more every day. I'm afraid we're going to be hit by a full-scale invasion sometime soon." "When we 'communicated' through the vortex, it seemed like you thought Scully and I could help," Mulder questioned. "Even if I do have some magical ability, I still don't see how much help just the two of us can give." "I'm not sure either," Reinald answered. "But you two do fit an old prophecy. When I saw the two of you through Tarnor, I was shocked. No one had really taken the old story seriously, and suddenly there you were." "What prophecy?" Scully asked. "An ancient one, most of which has been lost or garbled over the years. It's become a kind of myth. To summarize, the story says that when we are threatened by some great evil, a healer-warrior will lead us in battle while two magicians, one from this world and one from another, will unite to win the final confrontation, and banish the evil from this world forever. You see, Scully, your particular aura, with its combination of healer brown and warrior green is unique. It never happens. Those two talents are considered opposites. So when I saw it, so close to a strong Mage power, I suddenly realized that you two HAD to be the fulfillment of the prophecy." Scully and Mulder exchanged glances, neither one sure how to respond to this. It all seemed utterly unreal. Scully felt like she had been on a roller coaster for far too long. Even with the aid of the potion and Corvay's healing, she was still ready to collapse. Mulder was tired too, and even though his intense curiosity was running at full speed, one look at Scully's pale face was enough to convince him they'd had enough for tonight. "This is a lot for us to absorb," he said. "And we're both exhausted. Maybe we should call it a night, and get some sleep." Reinald gave him a sheepish look, and immediately apologized. "I'm so sorry. I knew better than to keep you up for so long after all you've just been through. I'm exhausted myself." He stood up and went over by the fireplace, reaching up to yank on a cord hanging against the wall. "Lets get you settled into a room, so you can get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we can get your training started." "Training," Both Mulder and Scully spoke at once. "Well, we can hardly have an untrained mage wandering around. Mulder, you're leaking mage energy like a broken glass. If you don't learn control soon, you could cause a major disaster. In a way, your training is more to protect people from you than anything else. I've put a makeshift shield on you for now. It will hopefully hold until we teach you to do it yourself." Mulder grimaced and nodded. After his experiences in the forest, he wasn't about to argue about this. The last thing he wanted to do would be to accidentally blast some innocent person. "Okay, that explains Mulder's training, but what am I supposed to be learning?" Scully questioned. "Fighting skills, of course. You'll need to know how to handle a sword. I don't suppose you've ever done any sword- fighting before." "Sword-fighting, of course not!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. "Why would I want to?" "In this case, it's for your protection. You've got a warrior's aura, and the last thing we need is for you to get challenged before you know how to defend yourself. And with everything that's happening out there, we need every trained soldier we can get, prophecy aside. Jourdain has arranged for you to train with one of his best officers. Her name is Aldara, and she's about your size. I think you'll like her." A knock at the door caught Reinald's attention, and he left them to cross the room. As Reinald let a young human servant into the room and issued instructions in the musical language of the Realm, Mulder and Scully just stared at each other for a moment. Reaching out to tenderly sweep a bright red strand of hair off her cheek, Mulder softly asked her, "Are you all right?" She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I'm okay, Mulder. Just tired, dirty, and feeling a little shell-shocked." He sighed wearily. "Me, too." - - - - - Speechless and numb from exhaustion, Mulder and Scully followed the servant through the labyrinthine corridors and staircases of the castle. His arm was around her shoulder, hers around his waist as they trudged along stone corridors lit by torches which created eerie, flickering shadows. In spite of her fatigue, Scully's attention was drawn to the hangings which were displayed on the walls. At first glance, they were not unlike medieval tapestries she had seen in museums. Some were merely decorative while others seemed to illustrate a story; whether a fable or a tale from the history of the Realm, Scully wasn't sure. The richness of the colors and materials amazed her, but there was something else which caught her attention. The images in the wall hangings were three dimensional - almost like a woven hologram, if such a thing were possible. She stopped to examine the tapestry in wonder, fingering the fine material, then looked up at Mulder to speak, and hesitated. His heavy eyelids were drooping closed and he was swaying on his feet. Gently she nudged him and they once again forced themselves to drag their feet to follow the young human. After what seemed like miles, the servant finally stopped in front of a large wooden door and opened it. It swung silently on its hinges to reveal a large stone-walled room. Mulder and Scully entered and looked around them as the door clicked quietly closed behind them. The chamber was at least forty feet in length and twenty five feet wide. A huge stone hearth dominated the far wall to their right, and tall narrow windows punctuated the wall directly opposite from where they were standing. Between the windows stood bookcases filled with richly bound volumes while fine woven rugs dotted the stone floor, and tapestries similar to those in the corridors decorated the high stone walls of the room. A large copper tub stood in the far corner. Most of the furniture was wooden - a giant armoire, a refectory table and chairs, and numerous smaller tables and other items scattered around the room. Two comfortable looking upholstered armchairs were positioned by the hearth. Steam wafted from a kettle set near the fire, and nearby on a low table between the armchairs was a tray containing cups, a teapot and a small loaf. Illumination was provided by the fire in the fireplace and by torches set into brackets at intervals along the walls. There was a door in the near wall to their left. Swathed in diaphanous hangings which were tied back for the moment, an enormous, high bed jutted from the same wall. "Sorry, Scully, I was sure I had reserved a double." Mulder peered down at her anxiously. She was dealing with so much right now. She didn't want to be here in the first place, yet it appeared she was going to be instrumental in helping this strange world fight for its existence, at the risk of her own. Everything around her, this world, this situation - all of this had to be an assault to her belief system, which was so rooted in the scientific, the explainable. He was concerned not only about her safety but also about how she was handling this threat to her most cherished and fundamental beliefs. And she probably held him at least partially responsible for this entire situation. The last thing she needed right now was another complication, forcing an issue that she was not yet ready to face. "Uh, look - don't worry about it. I'll just curl up in one of those chairs by the fireplace, no problem. I don't sleep much, anyway," he said. "Don't be an idiot, Mulder," Scully said, not unkindly. "We may be here for a very long time - you can't sleep in the chair for weeks or months. Maybe you should have arranged to transport your couch through the Vortex." She smiled up at him. "Tonight, I'm too tired to care. Don't worry, we'll manage." He looked down at her and decided to broach the subject he had been avoiding since they entered the Realm. "Are you okay with all of this? I know you were angry with me and I probably deserve it, but Scully, I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen. Yes, I wanted to come here. Hell, the curiosity was killing me. But there's no way I would have tricked or forced you into coming against your will. I can't say I'm not glad you're here; I am. But I'd be happier if I knew you didn't hate my guts right now." His voice and expression were calm, but his eyes said it all. The guilt, that once again he had placed her in jeopardy; the fear, that their mutual trust had been shattered; the respect and caring he felt for her; all were there for her to see. Scully's expression was grave, her eyes shimmering. Between the exhaustion and the events of the day, she was close to tears. "I don't blame you for all this, Mulder. Well, I did at first, but when I really thought about it, I knew you wouldn't do this intentionally. But all this is so hard for me. I feel like I'm on a bad acid trip, or as if I were in a kind of mental freefall. I can't explain any of this." Her voice broke. "I feel lost." She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled. "God, I'm so tired." Mulder put out a tentative hand and gently caressed her cheek. Softly he said, "Go sit by the fire. I'll make tea - or whatever it is." Scully flopped into the first chair she came to. "How do we know it's not toxic?" "Well, I guess we don't. That potion or whatever that Reinald gave us was okay. Anyway, we have to eat and drink sometime." Mulder removed the lid from the teapot and sniffed at the contents. He added water from the kettle, then replaced the lid. "I'll drink it first - if I don't keel over, then you can have some. Deal?" "No. We'll drink it together. I'll be damned if you're going to die and leave me here alone." He flashed her a grin. "That's the spirit, Scully." Mulder poured the fragrant brew into the thick earthenware cups and handed one to Scully before lowering himself into the other armchair with a sigh of relief. "Okay, Scully, if you can suspend your disbelief and just go with this for a minute - what do you think of Reinald and what he had to say?" "That's a big 'if,' Mulder. I don't know, I'm black and blue from pinching myself, so I know I'm awake. Well, barely. Do I believe you have the powers he says you do? No. You've got many talents, Mulder, but magic? I can't suspend my disbelief that much. I'm not happy that Reinald seems unsure whether or not he can get us back throught the Vortex." She shook her head. "I'm still not convinced all this isn't a dream, that I'll wake up and all this will be forgotten by lunchtime. How can this be possible, how can this place exist?" Mulder stretched his long legs out closer to the fire. "I've been thinking about that. Neumann was very coy, but he did say they had been doing experiments involving the space-time continuum. What if those experiments somehow caused whatever it is that divides our reality from this one, to rupture? Reinald seemed to indicate that the Vortex just appeared one day, and comes and goes, independently of any factors from this reality. Wouldn't that correlate well with the intermittant nature of the experiments? No one knows that much about time and space. It certainly wouldn't be the first time we were experimenting without an understanding of the powers that we were dealing with. You at least have to admit that it's a possibility, Scully." "Oh, I'll admit that much. Did you buy the stuff about the prophecy?" "Every culture has prophecies, and usually events occur which can be interpreted as fulfilling those prophecies. Although this prophecy is so specific...I don't know." He smiled at her. "Believe it or not, Scully, I don't just automatically subscribe to every weird belief that comes down the pike. I've got a doctorate in psychology and I've had lots of training in the scientific method. I just choose to believe that science, or what we know of science, doesn't go far enough sometimes. That there is a, I don't know, call it a higher science or higher wisdom, that can offer explanations that conventional science can't." "Do you think that you have magical powers? Come on, Mulder, be honest." Scully was regarding him with a slight smile. "Well, I didn't. But I helped to construct the Gate that brought us here. Reinald gave the instructions, he told me what to do and how to do it. But Scully, some of that - whatever it was - came from me, I know it did. I felt it, I controlled it. And I know I want to learn more about it." "You're going through with the training?" "Of course, aren't you? After all, we're here for a while, at least until the Vortex reopens, or Reinald can figure out a way to open it up enough so both of us can get through. And just think - what if it's all true - the prophecy, the threat to the Realm, our being able to save it. This may be our whole reason for existence." He smiled teasingly at her. "Open yourself to extreme possibilities, Scully." "I don't think they've ever been more extreme. Okay, for now I'll go along with it, including the training. But Mulder, keep in mind that this isn't our reality, and it may not be anyone's reality. This may all be an illusion." "Fair enough. As long as you keep in mind that it may be a reality - our reality - for quite some time to come, okay?" He got to his feet wearily and offered her a hand out of the deep cushions of the chair. They leaned into each other in their fatigue, and he put an arm around her shoulders as they walked away from the fireplace. Every several feet, they stopped to extinguish the torches along the wall. "God, I'm exhausted. What time is it, anyway?" Scully asked, yawning. "Good question. My watch stopped when we went through the Vortex. I have a feeling some rules don't apply here. Certainly time may not be the same." He peered out of one of the tall windows. "It's dark out, so it must be night. I'm beat, too. You're sure you're okay with the sleeping arrangements? It's a big castle, you could probably have your own room." "No!" she said quickly. She colored a bit, then said, "No, I'd really prefer it if we weren't separated right now. It's a big bed, Mulder. There's plenty of room for the both of us." She looked at him enigmatically for a few seconds, then once again became all business. "Now, I wonder if the Realm has discovered plumbing?" Mulder opened the door near the bed. "In here, maybe?" He took a torch from the chamber and brought it into the small room, setting it into a bracket. The fixtures were primitive and not at all what they were used to, but their purpose was unmistakable and Scully had no problem divining their use. On the other side of the small room was a stone counter. A pitcher of warm scented water stood next to a ewer,and a stack of soft, folded cloths sat beside them. Scully stripped down to her slip and washed, noting that the scented water took on a whole new fragrance when it came in contact with her skin. She felt a little better afterwards. When she was finished, Mulder took his turn while she explored the armoire. Inside, she found a silky flowing garment she could use as a nightshirt. It was a little short, perhaps, but otherwise it fit well, and its dark green color complemented her creamy white skin and auburn hair wonderfully. "Why are the beds so high when so many of the people are so small?" wondered Scully aloud, trying to find a graceful way to get into bed. The mattress had to be at least four feet from the floor. Mulder quietly emerged from the bathroom, and seeing Scully, his breath caught in his throat. There were times, usually the least convenient or appropriate ones, that he was made forcefully aware that his partner was a very beautiful and desirable woman. He brutally quashed the thoughts that were rising, unbidden, in his mind. "Problem, Scully?" She looked over her left shoulder at him as he walked to the side of the bed. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. He was clad only in boxers, his damp hair tousled boyishly, and he had acquired his own special aroma from the scented wash water. The light from the torch caught the angles of his face, the definition of the muscles on his lean body. It occurred to her that the sleeping arrangements might prove more difficult than she first believed. "Turn around." Wordlessly, a little breathlessly, she turned to face him, not knowing quite what to expect. He placed his warm hands at her waist, then effortlessly boosted her up on to the bed. Their eyes met for a second, then slid away almost by mutual consent, neither of them ready to see what was there. She pulled down the bedcover and quickly slid under it and snuggled down. Mulder extinguished the torch nearest the bed, leaving the embers of the fireplace as the sole source of light. He crossed to his side of the bed, boosted himself up and joined her under the covers. They turned to face away from each other, he on his side of the bed, she on hers, and a wide no man's land in the center. "G'night, Scully." "G'night, Mulder." Within minutes, Scully's breathing was deep and regular. In spite of his exhaustion, it was quite some time before Mulder followed her into sleep. - - - - - "No! NOOOO!" Together they sat bolt upright in bed, both sweating, hearts racing, gasping huge breaths into burning lungs, tear-filled eyes wide with terror. Mulder recovered first, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, then furtively wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He heard the wind outside, howling, blowing leaves against the tall windows. He glanced behind him over his shoulder, noticing Scully for the first time, and, uncertain of his voice, gently cleared his throat. "Sorry, Scully. Just one of my nightmares. I didn't mean to wake you. I'm going to stay up for a while. You go back to sleep." Her voice was quavering, uncertain. "I'm not so sure I want to, Mulder. This is bizarre, but... I was having your dream." "What?" He snapped around to stare at her. She was white and shaking. "I'm telling you, it was weird. It was like I WAS you, seeing everything from your eyes, thinking your thoughts, feeling your emotions. But at the same time, I knew that I was me." She frowned. "That doesn't sound like it makes any sense, but that's how it felt." She looked up at him, disturbed and frightened. Is this really what he saw and felt every time he had a nightmare? How had he managed to keep his sanity? Mulder looked at her intently. "What exactly did you see?" Closing her eyes to concentrate better, she proceeded to tell him what she had seen in the nightmare in exhaustive detail. As she spoke, Mulder's expression wavered repeatedly between shock and mortification and discomfort. He had never felt so naked, so exposed, in his life. When she finally finished and opened her eyes, his expression had been tamed into careful neutrality. "What happened, Mulder? How could this happen?" He reached out and took her hand, and caressed the back of it with his thumb. He kept his tone light. "Don't make too much of it, Scully. You've known about my nightmares for a long time, and you know what they're usually about. You've listened to the regression tapes, you've read Samantha's X-File. You know just about everything there is to know about her abduction. Plus, it's not exactly been a routine kind of day, and we're both overtired and overstimulated. It's just a coincidence, that's all. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep." Somewhat reassured, she settled back down, and exhaustion returned her to sleep quickly. Mulder carefully slid out of bed and padded across the cool stones and warm thick rugs to the opposite end of the room. He added another log to the bright embers in the hearth, and using a poker, stirred the fire into life again. Then he sat in one of the armchairs to think. At this point, Scully did not need something else that she couldn't find a rational scientific explanation for. But Mulder was unnerved enough for the two of them by her experience. She had not only shared every bit of his nightmare - including thoughts and emotions he had never told anyone, not even Dr. Verber - but she had remembered it with the precision of HIS photographic memory. What the hell was happening? ----------------- Mulder's eyes flew open the second he heard the soft footsteps, but he remained motionless. Facing the sunlit windows as he was, he couldn't see anything. He turned over as if in sleep to try to see who was in their room, only to encounter his slumbering partner, her head now fast against his chest, his arm around her back and shoulders. The footsteps left the room and Mulder relaxed, giving in to temptation. Promising himself it would be only for a moment, he buried his face in her silky auburn hair, breathing in her scent deeply. Then the door opened, the footsteps returned and again he became alert as their intruder headed for the other end of the room. This was pleasant, thought Scully, wriggling sensuously and purring a little. A lovely way to wake up, in the strong arms of a ma- ! Abruptly, she awoke, and was held in place by a grip that had suddenly turned to iron. Carefully, she looked up and caught the caution in Mulder's eyes. Barely moving, barely audible, he placed his lips next to her ear and said, "Scully, we are not alone." She almost giggled - he had been saying that for years. Then she stiffened as she too heard other noises from the end of the room. Obviously, their intruder had abandoned efforts to not awaken them. Mulder again caught her eye and deliberately, he nodded three times. On the third nod, they sat up in unison and slid out of the high bed, and started moving purposefully towards the intruder. The elf turned to them and smiled, saying something in the spoken song that was the language of the Realm in a surprisingly low pitched musical voice. Realizing that her words carried no meaning, she walked over to the refectory table, where breakfast has been laid, indicating that they should sit and eat. Mulder looked at Scully and shrugged. They walked over to the table and sat. There were baskets of fresh warm breads and a wooden platter containing unfamiliar but fragrant fruits and something that looked like cheese. There were two earthenware bowls containing some thick, creamy looking liquid, and a large teapot from which a wonderful aroma was wafting. "I know I should probably be more careful about this, but frankly Scully, I'm too hungry to care." Mulder had finished making his selections from the bread basket and had turned his attention to sampling as many different fruits as possible. "Any idea what the white stuff is?" "I thought YOU were going to be MY guinea pig, Mulder." Scully covered the tip of her spoon with the creamy substance and cautiously tasted it. "Ummm. Kind of like yogurt but smoother and sweeter and not so tangy. My opinion might change once I know where this stuff comes from, but for now I'd say it was delicious. How's the fruit?" "Good. Those blue things are pretty sour, but the orange ones taste a little like apples. The bread is wonderful, and I'm just working up the courage to try that cheese. The tea, by the way, is incredible - it's like tea and vitamins and Jolt Cola all wrapped up into one. I may run a marathon when I'm through with breakfast." "Save your energy, Mulder. From what Reinald said last night, you're going to need it for your training. Come to think of it, pass the tea down here, please - I think I'm going to need it, too." When the edge was off their hunger, they paid less attention to the food and more to the third occupant in the room, who was now in the process of filling the copper tub with steaming buckets of water. She was obviously feminine, and tiny, not more than a meter tall, with gamine features and short curling dark hair. She wore a short sleeved tunic and loose pants in an attractive shade of rose. Although she was slender, the ease with which she hoisted the huge buckets of water spoke of strength unexpected in such a small package. She half-chanted, half-sang to herself as she worked, oblivious to Scully and Mulder. She left the side of the tub, and moved to the huge bed. >From underneath it, she extracted a kind of narrow platform. Standing on the platform, she had no difficulty straighting the bedclothes, first on one side of the bed, then on the other. Scully and Mulder watched her lightning quick movements, fascinated. She was done in no time. Then she was at their sides, trying with very little success to explain something. Finally, she went to the armoire, extracted some items and pushed them into Scully's arms. She made a little bowing or bobbing motion, then lightly took Scully's wrist, pulling it gently. Scully shrugged at Mulder, then allowed herself to be led to the bathroom, where the servant's gestures made it clear what she was to do next. Scully stood with her hand on the door latch and called down to Mulder. "I guess I'll be getting washed and dressed in here, Mulder. The tub must be yours. Have fun." Suddenly wary, Mulder turned his attention to the servant, who performed the strange bobbing motion again, and lightly took his wrist and tugged. Feeling a little foolish, he allowed himself to be led across the room by the tiny sprite to the side of the copper tub. She smiled and nodded, then grasped the waistband of his boxers and began pulling downward. Aghast, Mulder brushed away her hands, grabbed the waistband and pulled up. "Scully!" The servant patiently began to explain the procedure, which of course was lost on Mulder, and again took the waistband in her hands. There was no mistaking the panic in his voice this time. "SCULLY!" Scully shot out of the bathroom, pulling her clothes around her and clutching a pair of suede boots. "What's going on, Mulder?" Blushing, perspiring, he looked at her, his eyes wide. "She wants to take my clothes off! I think she wants to give me a bath!" After a second's hesitation, Scully started to laugh, and kept on laughing until tears ran down her cheeks and she fell to her knees, grasping her abdomen. Finally she regained control, stopped laughing and wiped her eyes. She looked up at him, still giggling a little and said, "I'm sorry, Mulder, really. I just couldn't help it. That's the best offer you've had in months, and you don't want to take it? There's no pleasing some people." "Scully, you know very well that there's a big difference between that and - " "Yeah, I know." Scully stood up, and began tucking her loose white shirt into her leather breeches. "Okay Mulder, it's up to you. It looks like this "assisted bathing" is the accepted thing in this culture, and you can either go along with it gracefully or not. She's just trying to do her job. I might also point out that as we're probably going to be here for quite some time, we're going to have to adapt to a lot of strange things. You might as well start now. In any case, I'm leaving to find this Aldara person." She leaned against the table to pull on her boots. "Hey, Scully. Nice outfit." He nodded approvingly at her, his eyes warm. "Be careful, okay?" She returned the warmth in her smile. "Always, Mulder." A second later, she was gone. Mulder turned his attention to his tiny servant. When in Rome.... He released the waistband of his boxers and spread his arms wide, abandoning himself to his fate. - - - - - Scully had not gone far when she realized that directions would have been helpful. Although the corridors of the castle were considerably more populated now than they had been the previous night, the language barrier still presented problems. Finally, on her fourth attempt she had succeeded in getting her message across, only to have a helpful troll give her detailed instructions on how to find Aldara, in a language she could not comprehend. She had resigned herself to spending several hours lost in the corridors of the castle when by chance she stumbled, literally, over Tarnor. The little creature turned around to give the clumsy oaf that fell over him a piece of his mind when he recognized Scully. He bobbed, then took her wrist and pulled her down the hall as fast as her feet could carry her. When he was sure that she would continue to follow, he released her wrist, but did not drop the pace, chattering away. Scully figured he was probably giving her hell for being late for Aldara. After countless turns and trips up and down staircases, they found themselves in a large courtyard. Tarnor yelled across the courtyard to a figure who waved, and started toward them. Then he spoke a few more words to Scully, showed his pointed teeth in what she thought was meant to be a smile, and left. Happy to see the little thing doing so well after yesterday's horrors, she watched him leave, then turned her attention to the approaching figure. This was Aldara, the warrior instructor? thought Scully. The woman coming toward her was just a few inches shorter than Scully, but had the same elfen features that their servant had possessed. Her hair was long, curly and black, and her eyes were the brightest green Scully had ever seen. She could not have weighed eighty pounds, dripping wet. Now I know why this place is in so much trouble, thought Scully. Aldara advanced, holding her hand out, and Scully grasped it warmly. That was the last thing she did before flying through the air to land in a heap about ten feet away from where she had started. "What the hell was that for?" she demanded angrily, only to be answered with Aldara's tinkling laughter. "Okay, so we're going to play rough." Scully got to her feet, her mind going back over every martial arts class she had ever taken, and dropped to a defensive posture. She and Aldara circled each other several times, parrying and feinting, then Aldara sprang for her throat. With a few quick moves, Scully eluded her attack, had Aldara on the ground and was straddling her, her knuckles drawn back and ready to deliver a potentially fatal blow. Aldara nodded, smiled, and raised her arms in submission. "Funny way you have of saying Hi here," Scully said coolly, getting up and offering a hand to her opponent. They locked eyes for a moment, smiled, and then Aldara took Scully's hand and hauled herself up off the cobbles of the courtyard. They brushed themselves off, and Aldara made a beckoning motion. Together they set off across the busy plaza. Everywhere stalls were set up, decorated with brilliantly colored flags and banners and signs, and vendors were singing, chanting, calling attention to their wares. This was evidently the Realm version of the mall, thought Scully. All sorts of foodstuffs, cloth, nails and tools, casks of this and barrels of that were for sale, by more different kinds of beings than Scully could have ever imagined. Fascinated by the scene around her, Scully's eyes were everywhere, but she was careful not to lose track of Aldara - she would never find her if they were separated in this crowd. They soon left the colorful marketplace behind, cut through a stable, and finally arrived at an open area adjacent to a blacksmith's forge. Aldara went to a recessed wall protected by an overhang. Scully saw that the wall was in effect a weapons rack. Aldara looked back at Scully, performed some kind of calculation, and chose a sword. Carefully, she affixed leather guards to both her sword and Scully's, then handed the agent her weapon. Taken completely by surprise by the weight of the weapon, she nearly dropped it but recovered in time to save herself that particular embarrassment. These things never looked like they were this heavy in the movies. Damn, thought Scully, this thing has to weigh at least twenty pounds. Experimentally, she held the handle in her right hand and tried to raise the six foot long piece of metal and found it next to impossible. Aldara came up behind her, and grasping Scully's hands, placed them properly on the hilt. She then helped Scully to raise the sword and swing it in an arc around their heads. She dropped her hands, ran over to pick up her own sword, and motioned for Scully to copy her movements. For at least two hours, the instructor and her student swung their weapons at targets and practiced the rudiments of swordsmanship, stopping only when Scully could scarcely raise her arms. As it was, pure Scully stubbornness had been the only thing stopping her from begging for a rest for the last twenty minutes or more. Finally, Aldara indicated that she should sit, and went into the forge, while Scully collapsed gratefully on a hay bale. A few minutes later, Aldara emerged with two mugs brimming with the same kind of tea they had had for breakfast. Scully gulped it greedily, and was rewarded by a warm, potent feeling starting in her stomach and spreading to her limbs. She almost groaned, it felt so good. Aldara chuckled softly and refilled Scullly's mug from her own. When they had finished, Aldara gestured to Scully and the two women walked back toward the stables. Aldara exchanged a few words with the farrier and within a few minutes, two saddled horses were led up to them. One of the stableboys assisted Aldara to mount, then she waited until Scully was also on her horse. But these horses were certainly a breed she had never seen. They were enormous, easily 22 hands high, with a long, ground-eating stride. The two women walked their horses out into the sunshine, heading for an open field about a hundred yards away. Scully had a feeling she was about to regret all those times in summer camp that she had opted for sailing at the expense of horseback riding. Her equestrian skills were sorely tested by a gentle canter around a fenced-in ring - and somehow Scully felt that somewhat more than that would be expected of her. She had no sooner had the thought than Aldara said something to her, and kicked her horse into a gallop. Scully's mount did not wait for any direction, but took off after its companion, tumbling its rider off in the process. "Ooooofff! Shit!" Scully painfully picked herself up off the ground, wiggling an arm here, an ankle there to check herself for any debilitating injuries that would prevent her from having to get back on that damned beast. Unfortunately, she found none, and her mood was not improved by the return of Aldara and the horses. Looking at the animal with a jaundiced expression, she led it over to a fence, which she climbed and then hopped onto the horse's back from there. This time, Aldara took it slower, and Scully felt her confidence starting to return as she proceeded without incident from walk to trot to canter. When Aldara felt she could handle it, after some two hours of basic horseback riding drills, the lessons began in earnest. Aldara would demonstrate some totally hair raising stunt, like galloping the length of the field without holding the reins, and Scully was expected to follow suit. "Easy for her, she's probably been riding since before she could walk," grumbled Scully. But she gamely, and at great cost to her physical wellbeing and her pride, attempted everything Aldara was showing her. They took a break in the midafternoon. From the saddlebags came flasks of the now familiar tea and a couple small loaves of a dark, sweet bread. After they had eaten, the two women looked at each other, smiled and shrugged. It was frustrating to have so many questions that went unasked. Scully resolved to talk to Reinald tonight to see what could be done to break down the language barrier. She was sure she'd pick up the language sooner or later, but in the meantime the lack of communication couldn't be doing her training program any good, and it could even be dangerous. Finally the two women lay back and rested for a while, Aldara napping, and Scully just glad to be off the damned horse. The day was gorgeous - sunny, mild, cool breeze, puffy pink and white clouds in the bright blue sky. She gave a passing thought to Mulder, wondering how he was faring in his magic lessons, and more than a little resentful that compared to her, he had it so easy. - - - - - "Yeeeeooooow!" Mulder was hanging upside down in midair, suspended about five feet above the stone floor. Reinald cast a look skyward that cursed his fate, then wiggled a finger and Mulder came crashing to the floor. "That is a very good example of what happens when you don't first center your power and properly tune your shield. And if you try to levitate anything without grounding yourself, you will be what's levitated. This little exercise is harmless, but if you don't center and ground your power or adjust your shield, it could be fatal with many of the other spells." "Not precisely harmless, " grunted Mulder, rubbing his shoulder. "I've never had to teach this before - these are all things that a Mage child knows before it can crawl. I can't believe you haven't killed yourself long before this. So much power in such untrained hands - it's unthinkable. All right - again." Mulder picked himself off the stone floor for what seemed the fiftieth time that day and sighed. Concentrating, he closed his eyes and focused his inner energy on a small bottle which sat on a table across the room. Pointedly, he mentally drew down his shield, then willed the bottle to come to him, slowly this time, slowly, slowly; and then to hang in midair two feet from him, where he could just open his eyes and - Crash! "It appears, Mulder, that I will run out of bottles before you have grasped the concepts of this lesson." In the safety of the corner, Grejor snorted, but quickly lost his amusement when the icy stares of not one but two Mages fell upon him. Mulder looked at Reinald and said hopefully, "They're getting closer to me before they fall - don't I get points for that?" Reinald looked at him sourly. "No." Mulder rubbed his eyes and sighed. "The concentrating isn't the problem, it's when I open my eyes. I just get so excited when I see that I actually levitated something, I lose my train of thought." "I would suggest that you curb your exuberance. We don't have the time for it. You have so much to learn, so much more than I thought would be necessary. Now - again." Again, determined, Mulder followed the steps. Center. Ground. Shield. Concentrate. He opened his eyes and plucked the bottle out of the air. "Easy when you know how," he murmured, looking in wonder at the little bottle. Reinald permitted himself a small smile. "It appears that we make progress, Mulder. Perhaps we shall manage to teach you what you need to know before you accidentally kill us all. Now - again." Mulder repeated the exercise flawlessly more than twenty times, then Reinald began adding different permutations. Each change brought with it a few smashed bottles, but eventually Mulder could make the bottle spin around the room, move it from one point to another, start and stop it repeatedly along its path, and move it between himself and Reinald at his will. Reinald nodded approvingly and glided over to the table. "We will rest for a short while, Mulder. Have some tea." As Mulder turned, he became aware of something hurtling towards his head. Instantly, he dropped to the floor, and cautiously looked up to see if he could identify the missile. A cup sailed overhead and smashed into the wall at the other end of the room, spattering its contents on a rather nice tapestry and onto the floor. Reinald looked down at him and shook his head. "You have the powers, now use them. It must become second nature, Mulder, something that you don't think about, something effortless or there is no point. Get up - it seems we have more work to do." It was over an hour later when Reinald finally stopped the drills and allowed Mulder a break. He collapsed on a low stool and massaged his throbbing temples. Any progress he had made was at the expense of a terrific headache. Wordlessly he accepted the mug of fragrant tea and gulped half of it down. Immediately, his head started to feel better, and he was as refreshed as if he had taken a good long nap. "When I go back, this stuff goes with me," he declared, only half kidding. Reinald's eyes sparkled, but he did not respond to Mulder's comment. "You've made some progress today. Only practice will reinforce these lessons to the point that using your powers becomes as natural as breathing. But I must caution you - for now, do not attempt any magic unless I am with you. You are at an extremely dangerous stage right now. You know that you possess power, but you don't know enough about using it. I'm quite serious when I tell you that if you made certain errors right now, you could kill yourself or those around you. I'm not sure I would have risked bringing you through the Vortex if I had known you were untrained." "You didn't bring me through the Vortex, it was an accident." Suddenly suspicious, Mulder looked at Reinald directly and saw a slight change in his aura, a slight wavering. "Wasn't it?" he demanded. Could his and Scully's trip through the Vortex have been manipulated? Outside, the skies abruptly clouded over. For his part, Reinald could see the increase in the intensity of Mulder's aura, and was alarmed. "Strong emotion must also be avoided right now. It could bring on" - a huge crash of thunder obscured what the magician said. "Then suppose you tell me the truth," snapped Mulder. Reinald looked at the expression on Mulder's face. "All right - but first you must ground your energy. Do it now, quickly!" Mulder stared at Reinald as lightning flashed through the sky. He took a deep breath, focused his mind on empty space, and pressed his energy into the stone floor, then exhaled. Sun once again streamed through the tall windows of Reinald's chamber. Puzzled, Mulder asked, "Did I do that?" "I told you your powers were dangerous and not to be taken lightly," Reinald spat out. "Yes, you did that. Ungrounded strong emotion of any kind can have an effect on the weather. Now do you see why it is so critical for you to learn controls?" Mulder shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, I'm still waiting - how accidental was our trip through the Vortex?" Reinald nodded. "Sit." When Mulder had complied, he continued. "I didn't pull you through the Vortex, if that's what you want to know. I was aware that our communication had a tendency to weaken you. The Vortex opened a bit more quickly than I expected it to, too quickly for you to get out of the way. Again, that was unintentional. I admit, I think I could have thrown you clear of it. I chose not to, I chose to leave it to the gods. Our need is so great and finding you was such a stroke of incredible good fortune, and I could not bring myself to throw that away. But I didn't bring you here. I just didn't do what I could to stop you. More tea?" Mulder held out his mug and thought over what Reinald had said. He felt the Mage was being honest with him. He could accept his reasoning; if the positions were reversed, he'd be at least tempted to do the same. But this was something he probably wouldn't share with Scully, at least not right away. Reinald looked at Mulder with some amusement . "I sense your wife is not as accepting of your situation as you are." Mulder nearly choked on his tea. "Wife? Scully's not my wife. In our reality, we're partners, we work together." Reinald looked confused. "But the life-bond - " Now it was Mulder's turn to look confused. "What's a life-bond?" Reinald got up and paced the room as he spoke. "A life-bond is the closest form of relationship, the highest sort of commitment. It is quite rare in our world, even most married people don't have a life-bond. Those who are life-bonded are, almost inevitably, married to each other. This is very difficult to explain, because it has, for us, great cultural and spiritual significance that no language spell can adequately translate." Reinald stopped his pacing to concentrate on the best way to describe the life-bond. "It is as if the man's and the woman's aura fit together like a lock and key - a perfect match. Not only do the auras fit together, but they can mix with each other, to achieve true Oneness. And the two - the man and the woman - together they are more than two, in their powers, in the depth of their feelings, in their capabilities. But alone, each is slightly less than a whole person - as if the other is an integral part of the self. Life-bonds develop over time, but as I said, most people never achieve a life bond. It is thought that there are two essential elements. First, an aural "predisposition" and secondly a physical proximity must both be present for the life-bond to develop. Most beings do not have the predisposition. Then, only a tiny minority of those who have the predisposition ever meet, and recognize the other that makes them whole. So it is a very rare thing. And in a Mage - unknown." Reinald observed Mulder closely. Mulder shook his head. "Scully and I are partners, we're friends, but that's all. Besides, if I'm supposed to have all these powers, how can I also have a life-bond? And why can't magicians have life-bonds?" Reinald smiled. "In our world, magicians don't form close relationships, usually not even friendships. It's thought to be too dangerous. And no Mage has ever been born with the predisposition, in any case. I can't explain why you do have a life-bond. I had assumed it was something common in your world, and permitted to your magicians. Apparently I was wrong. But make no mistake - you are much more than partners, much more than friends." Reinald smiled to himself - these beings were so strange, so unaware. "The longer you are in each other's company, the clearer that is going to be to you. But in the meantime, if I have inadvertently created an awkward situation, I will have an additional chamber prepared for your use." He reached for the wall cord to summon a servant. "No. No, that won't be necessary. At least not right now," Mulder murmured, distracted. He felt like someone had kicked his legs out from under him. In a way, Reinald's information explained so much. Their incredible effectiveness whenever they worked as a team. The feelings that he had for Scully that he tried to deny even to himself. The way Scully looked at him sometimes - yes, Scully would feel the same way! His heart leapt with that knowledge. But the life-bond was frightening, too. It meant that there were things he could no longer deny to himself. Each person was not a whole individual - the need for the other was so fundamental, so basic, that it was built right into the life-bond. And that thought terrified Mulder. It explained his feelings when he thought Scully was dying after her return from her abduction - his absolute certainty that he could not exist without her. If anything, this new knowledge of the life-bond intensified his fear of ever losing her. If what Reinald said about the life-bond was true, losing her would be losing himself. He had nearly been there once and it had come close to destroying him. If a life- bond meant the potential for that kind of devastation, Mulder wanted no part of it. There had already been more than enough loss in his life. Reinald's eyes narrowed as he watched Mulder, feeling the unshielded emotions that were almost overwhelming the young man. Just to be safe, he cast a brief spell to avoid weather disturbances for the next few hours until Mulder had had a chance to come to terms with this. "I think you have done enough for today. You have much to think about. I would be pleased if you and Scully could join me for dinner tonight. There will be someone here I want you to meet. We can decide on your lessons for tomorrow then. Get some rest. And remember - no magic, no strong emotion." Absently, Mulder accepted Reinald's invitation. The Mage pulled the braided cord and within seconds a servant appeared to show Mulder back to their chamber. For the rest of the afternoon, he stared into the fire in his hearth, thinking. ----------------- Scully and Aldara faced each other, warily circling, each armed with two knives. As the swords had been earlier in the day, the knives were sheathed. For Scully, her drills and exercises with Aldara had now become a matter of pride. She had felt all day she was at a disadvantage, coping with learning totally new skills. With close hand to hand fighting and martial arts, she was on surer ground. For some reason, it was becoming increasingly important to her to have Aldara's respect. She certainly respected Aldara - the woman was incredible. She was lightning quick, totally fearless and amazingly accomplished at everything Scully had seen so far. She really regretted not being able to talk to her. Several times today both women had automatically started to speak in their respective languages, then grimaced in frustration and stopped. Scully hoped Reinald would be able to do something about this, and more than once wished that Star Trek's Universal Translators were a reality. As they circled each other, the sky became dark without warning, and a crash of thunder reverberated through the forested hills. Aldara jumped and looked fearful as lightning split the sky. Scully was not normally afraid of thunderstorms, but she was in a different world, and the weather certainly appeared to be making Aldara uneasy. Just when she was wondering whether she should take a cue from Aldara and look for cover, the sky cleared and the sun shone once again. Suddenly, Scully had a sense of being elsewhere, then recognized Reinald's chamber and heard his voice. She was too startled at first to pay much attention to what he was saying, but finally began to listen. He was saying something about how he might have been able to prevent them from falling throught the Vortex, but chose not to. She then felt a thought that it might be better not to offer this particular piece of information to Scully. The vision ended abruptly, and she shook her head to clear it. What was going on? Meanwhile, Aldara had resumed her aggressor's crouch, and Scully quickly did the same. In this exercise, the agent gave as good as she got, and she noticed some rather surprised approval on Aldara's face several times. Both women were grimy, bruised and perspiring by the time Aldara indicated that class was out for the day. Scully walked with her to the castle and followed her through the corridors, to finish up at a place which seemed familiar. Grejor answered Aldara's tentative knock and reluctantly fetched his master. Reinald spoke to Aldara for several minutes. By the number of times her name came up, Scully knew that she was the main topic of conversation. Reinald finally nodded a dismissal to Aldara, who performed a kind of salute to Scully and then disappeared down the hall. Reinald considered Scully's appearance. "It looks like you worked hard today. I have invited you and Mulder to dinner here in my chambers. You will want to freshen up before that." He summoned Grejor to find Scully's servant. When she arrived scant moments later, Reinald issued instructions to her. then he turned to Scully. "Lita will show you back to your chamber and draw your bath. She will also call for you and Mulder at the appropriate time and show you back here for dinner. Until then." He bowed slightly and Grejor opened the door, and Scully had no choice but to leave, somewhat frustrated. She had been hoping for an opportunity to ask some questions, starting with what she was supposed to wear tonight. Hopefully, someone had stocked the armoire with a wardrobe in her size, because she didn't think either her present outfit or her green nightshirt would be appropriate. The way back from Reinald's chamber was starting to look somewhat familiar, and Scully tried to keep track of the lefts and rights. The journey to their chamber did not seem to take as long as it had the previous night. As soon as they got inside, Lita started transferring hot water from the cauldron on the fire into the big copper tub. Scully gingerly lowered herself into the empty chair next to Mulder's by the hearth. "And how was your day?" she asked, noting his smudged tunic and pants. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old," he smiled. "You okay? You look like you've been through the wars." "I have, literally," she laughed, and gave him a brief summary of her day. "I hurt in places I didn't know I had. Aldara is amazing. I made the mistake of judging her on her size when I first met her. I'll never do that again. Anyway, if we stay here long enough, I'll either be in fantastic shape or I'll be dead," she joked. The dark shadow that crossed Mulder's face vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but not so quickly that Scully didn't catch it. "What's up, Mulder?" she asked softly. When he looked over at her, his innocent puppy dog expression was in place. "Nothing." "Cut the crap, Mulder." He shrugged. "I don't know. Flashbacks, I guess. Forget it." His expression lightened as he changed the subject. "Aren't you going to ask me what I learned in school today?" She decided not to press the issue, and sighed. "Okay, I'll bite - what did you learn in school today?" Mulder launched into a hilarious account of the day's events, but omitted his conversation with Reinald about the Vortex and the life-bond. Sooner or later he would have to talk to Scully about the life-bond, but not yet. And she definitely needed more time to become accustomed to the present situation before discussing Reinald's part in their passing through the Vortex. He was all the more startled, then, when Scully said, "So I understand our trip here wasn't entirely accidental?" "What? Who told you that?" Mulder said suspiciously. "Nobody. Mulder, it happened again. For a few seconds, I was you. I was there when you and Reinald were discussing how we got here, and Reinald said that he could have prevented our falling through the Vortex, but didn't." "Might have been able to prevent it," he corrected. "Okay, but the fact remains that he could have done something and he didn't. I don't like the idea of someone playing God with my life. And that includes you, Mulder. Where do you get off deciding what information should be passed on to me and what shouldn't? I'm a big girl, you know. I can take it." Mulder privately acknowledged that she might have a point, which made him all the more obstinant. "What, and you have no secrets from me, Scully? I was just trying to do you a favor. You seemed so overwhelmed last night, and knowing this particular piece of information would serve no purpose other than to get you upset. I would have told you eventually. What else did you hear or see?" Mulder was really alarmed now. He wasn't ready to deal with all the ramifications of the life-bond and he was certain that she wasn't either, regardless of her insistence in knowing everything. He wanted to give her more time to accept everything else that was happening before getting into the deeply personal issue of the life-bond, if it even existed. But if she had already "seen" it - She looked at him suspiciously. "That's all. There may have been more before that, but I really wasn't paying attention because I was so surprised. Well, that and the weather. Did you hear that freak thunderstorm that came out of nowhere?" "Uh - I did that." "What?" Scully's eyes flew open and a look of disbelief appeared on her face. Relieved to change the subject, Mulder said, "Yeah, apparently any strong emotions that I have that I forget to ground tend to cause sudden shifts in the weather. I had gotten upset when I thought that Reinald might have intentionally drawn us here. He didn't - I guess that's the part of the conversation you heard - but for a few seconds I thought he did and I got mad, and that's when the thunderstorm happened." "I'll have to remember not to piss you off. What do you think is causing these visions? This is the second time, Mulder." "Third, actually. Yesterday, after the soul-eaters attacked us and you had been bitten - I felt it, Scully, I was you for a few seconds. I don't know. Maybe it's normal in this place and happens to everyone. Or maybe it just happens to beings from our world who travel through the Vortex. Or maybe this is ESP that was latent in our world, but something about this place brings it out. We might want to keep this to ourselves just for now. Oh, Scully, I think our friend is trying to get your attention." Mulder grinned wickedly. "Her name is Lita. Evidently, my bath time is in the evening. Okay, Mulder, take a hike. Do we have any clothes, by the way?" "Yeah, the armoire is full of stuff for the both of us for every occasion. Reinald said that we'd be meeting someone special tonight. Unfortunately, I don't think there's a Mr. Blackwell around to tell us what to wear." "Maybe Lita will set things out. Anyway - vamoose, Mulder. Give me about 25 minutes." Actually, he gave her closer to thirty five, having become lost in the hallways. By the time he found his way back, Scully was just about finished dressing. "Scully - you're beautiful!" She was wearing a form fitting, long sleeved leaf green tunic made of a heavy satin fabric, shot through with silver threads, and caught at the waist by a delicate but ornate silver belt. Simple sandals were on her feet. Her hair was up, with damp tendrils curling around her face. The torches, now lit for the approaching darkness, highlighted the translucence of her skin. "Thanks," she said, almost shyly. "You'd better get ready." He scooped up the clothes lying on the bed and went into the bathroom. He emerged less than ten minutes later. "Well, Mulder, I'd say you're starting to get into the spirit of the place," observed Scully, but the frank admiration in her gaze belied the coolness of her words. He always looked good, but tonight, in these clothes which so complemented his tall, lean form, his appearance was enough to make her heart race. His outfit was a more formal version of what Scully had worn earlier in the day. His loose white shirt was of the finest linen, with a high tight collar and intricate embroidery down the full sleeves. The shirt was worn outside and gathered at the waist by a heavy leather belt. Tight suede breeches and high leather boots completed the outfit. Lita fussed over him a bit, making tiny adjustments here and there, then she nodded and motioned for them to follow her. This time, both Mulder and Scully thought they might have actually been able to find Reinald's quarters unaided. Grejor answered their knock and dismissed Lita, then stood back to allow them to enter. Reinald glided forward to greet them. It was obvious that he was making every effort to be a charming host. "Tonight, the Prince has joined us for dinner. I was anxious for you to get to know him. Oh, and the other individual is his uncle, Drellor," he said dismissively. "Scully, please have some wine. I am afraid I must offer you tea, Mulder. Magicians should avoid intoxicants of any kind - too dangerous." "That's fine," Mulder said. "But Reinald, how are we going to communicate with the Prince? No one but you speaks our language." "I've extended the language spell to cover this room for tonight. There should be no problem." Scully took a glass of wine from a tray that Grejor was passing around and turned to Reinald. "You're going to have to do better than that, Reinald. I have to be able to communicate with Aldara. It's very inconvenient not to be able to even ask simple directions. It's interfering with my lessons. We need to be able to speak your language. Mulder and I are perfectly willing to learn it the conventional way, but that will take a lot of time, time that we may not have. We're here in your Realm, we're willing to help fight for it. But we need to know what's going on, we need to be able to communicate. What can you do?" Her eyes looked directly into his. He looked at her equally directly. "To be truthful, I had hoped to limit your access somewhat." In response to Scully's quick frown, he raised his hands in a placating manner. "There are many things about your appearance here which some of our people would find confusing. They are simple, and know nothing of the existence of your world. They may become easily frightened." Mulder looked at him, caught the slight wavering of the Mage's aura. "And there's something else, isn't there? What is it, the Prophecy?" Reinald sighed and shrugged. "I'm not used to dealing with someone I can't shield from. All right, yes. Your appearance and descriptions do seem to be in conformance with the Prophecy. That is something that I would rather we keep to ourselves for now. Not only would it scare the people and raise lots of questions we don't want to answer right now, but we would be tipping our hand to our enemies. In our land, it is difficult to keep some secrets. Between the constant intrigue of the Court, and the fact that many of our people are sensitive to auras, keeping your secret will be difficult enough. If you can fully communicate, you might say something to alarm someone, let something slip." He shook his head. "No, it's too dangerous." "That may be," said Mulder quietly. "However, it is the price of our cooperation. We're prepared to lay it on the line for you..." Reinald's face clouded as the language spell faltered over the use of idiom. Mulder rephrased, "We're prepared to help you, the least you can do is trust us to communicate. It may even make the difference between life and death. Our work in our reality requires discretion and judgement; we will use it here as well." Reinald looked from Mulder to Scully and back again. Faced with the firm set of their jaws, the direct stare, the folded arms, he realized that he would not have his way, not with these people. Especially if they did fulfill the Prophecy. He exhaled forcefully, then said, "Very well. But I expect you to use your discretion and judgement. There are many here at the castle who cannot be trusted - the Prince's uncle amongst them. And there are few I trust completely. I will cast the spell tonight after everyone has gone. In the morning, you will speak, read and write our language." "Thank you," said Mulder. "Now, is there any particular protocol to be observed with the Prince?" "As outsiders, you would not be expected to know most of the idiosyncrasies of our culture. This is fortunate, because we have an exceptionally involved etiquette, determined by class, and in some cases, type of being. You could never learn it well enough to pass for a native. That's why we have said that you are travellers to our land, so that people won't be surprised by what you don't know. As far as what you need to know for tonight - stand when he stands, sit when he sits. You may address him either as Your Highness or simply as Andalor. I think you may be pleasantly surprised. He will not be what you expect. Are you ready?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and followed Reinald across the room to where the table had been set. Because of her nephews and nieces, Scully was as accustomed to children as any non-parent could be. Mulder, if asked, would give the traditional bachelor's answer and say he was uncomfortable with children. However, Scully had seen him with kids on several of their cases, and actually he had a rapport with them that astonished her, an ability to get onto their level and have them open up to him that she envied. Reinald led them over to the hearth. "Andalor, these are the travellers I was telling you about. Come and meet them." From behind the high back of an intricately carved chair peeked the Prince. He scrambled off the chair and walked over to join Reinald. The affection between the two was clear. Reinald stroked the child's head and Andalor looked adoringly up at the Mage. "Mulder and Scully, this is Prince Andalor." The child observed them the way children can, with a penetrating gaze that can make the most confident adult uncomfortable. Two travellers, one with the mage's blue aura, and one with Healer and Warrior colors. The Prince looked up at Reinald with the poise and restraint of a much older and more sophisticated person. Young as he was, the meaning of these travellers, of their auras, was not lost on him. "Your Highness, thank you for the hospitality of the Realm," said Scully. "It is a pleasure to meet you." The child was beautiful, she thought. Smaller than she had expected for an eight year old, he had straight thick blond hair which framed his oval face. His eyes were captivating - large, and of a startling violet shade, and hinting at a wisdom far in advance of his years.. Reinald looked at the child, then nodded, and finally gave him a gentle nudge. Andalor looked at them, stood up very straight, and rattled off a little speech he had clearly been instructed to memorize for the occasion. "Welcome to the Realm. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace." In typical childish fashion with such memorized pieces, Andalor rushed throught the words on one breath and with as little inflection as possible. Mulder smiled. "I'll bet it was hard learning that." The child looked up with a slightly mischievous expression. "Not really. I can remember everything. Reinald says it's a great gift." Mulder squatted down to be closer to the child's height. "Want to know a secret? I can remember everything too. Reinald's right, it is a great gift." "Really? You really can?" the boy squealed. "I thought I was the only one. Are you sure? Let me test you!" "Andalor, do not be rude," chided Reinald. The child calmed down immediately at the words of the Regent, but looked very disappointed. "Not at all, I don't mind. What kind of a test, Andalor?" Mulder was rewarded by seeing the child light up and look up at Reinald, who sighed and nodded. "Good!" exulted the Prince, who took Mulder by the hand to lead him over to a tall bookcase teeming with volumes. "I can see why you're so proud of him," Scully said to Reinald. The two were observing the antics of Mulder and Andalor, who were on the floor, heads together, pouring over some books and chattering excitedly. "As am I, as am I," huffed a pudgy little man hustling up to join them. He shot the Mage a dark look. "I'm sure it was merely an oversight that Reinald failed to introduce me. I am Drellor, brother to the late King and uncle to Andalor. Yes, I think I've done a fine job with the boy, molding him for the great responsibilities he will have to shoulder. How wonderful it is to have such a lovely guest, oh my, yes." He caught Scully's hand and bent to kiss it. She snatched it back as quickly as she could without appearing rude. The man's a reptile, thought Scully. He should be hanging around singles bars, asking women their astrological signs. The bad blood between Reinald and Drellor was quite obvious. Table talk could get lively, she thought, almost looking forward to it. Responding to a subtle signal from Grejor, Reinald called everyone to the table. Both Mulder and Scully realized they were famished, having had nothing substantial since breakfast. The meal was simple but delicious - a kind of stew, spicy and aromatic, served with crusty hot bread. Mulder and the Prince sat side by side across from Scully and were deep in conversation throughout the meal. Scully's appetite was dampened somewhat by being seated next to Drellor, but Reinald deftly put him in his place several times during the meal, which helped. At least when he was sputtering about being "in too high a position to have to listen to Reinald's insults," his fat little hands weren't rubbing against her knee. She comforted herself with daydreams of what she'd be able to do to the little toad after a few more lessons from Aldara. After fruit and cheese were served, the meal came to an end. The Prince was yawning openly, Drellor was sulking, and both Mulder and Scully wanted nothing more than to return to their chamber as the events of the day started to catch up with them. They said their thanks and goodbyes and, refusing the offer of someone to show them the way, headed back to their room. Mulder took Scully's arm and tucked it under his, sandwiching her hand between his own. They strolled the hallway slowly, taking their time, paying more attention to the decoration and design of the castle. "You and the Prince seemed to hit it off," observed Scully. "Yeah, surprisingly, he's a good kid. I've always thought that royal kids would behave like the offspring of Satan and have an attitude to boot, but he's really a very nice little boy. Very intelligent, almost frighteningly so. And he does have an eidetic memory. His parents died some time ago. Evidently, Uncle Drellor thought he was a shoe-in for the Regent's job until the late King's will named Reinald. The kid can't stand his uncle, by the way." "The kid's got good taste. His uncle is a worm. Very full of himself, ready to take credit for everything that turns out well. If he pawed me one more time, I was going to -" "He was putting a move on you, Scully? I knew I detested him on sight for some reason. Don't worry. I'll change him into a frog or something - as soon as I learn how. Here we are. And you thought I had a bad sense of direction. Oh, ye of little faith." Mulder pushed the door open. Evidently, Lita had already been in to prepare the room. The opaque bedcurtains had been loosed from their ties, creating a private cocoon in the midst of the large room, and the bedcovers had been opened in readiness. With only two torches still lit and the fire dying down, the chamber was cloaked in a comfortable dusk. Again, tea had been prepared on a tray by the fire. "Tea, Scully?" 'Mmmm, please. This could get to be a very nice habit - sitting and talking and having tea before bed, Very civilized." She sat in one of the chairs and gratefully accepted the mug from Mulder. "The nighttime tea is different from the daytime tea." "Yeah, this one probably has soporific properties, like the daytime tea has energizing ones. Somehow, I don't think I'm going to have any problems with insomnia tonight. I had a few minutes with Reinald while you were saying goodnight to Andalor. I'll be spending the morning with him and then joining your friend Aldara. Apparently, Reinald thinks it would be a good idea for me not to be completely dependent on my magic to save my life, which may not show much confidence in my magic, but it's nice he thinks my life is worth preserving. Anyway, I'll be doing a couple of hours every afternoon with Aldara, playing Errol Flynn." Scully smiled knowingly. "I must say, I'm looking forward to watching you." He chuckled. "I'm sure. Unfortunately, you won't get the chance. When I show up, you're supposed to go find Corvay the Healer, and get updated on the latest in herbal and psychic healing." Scully looked dismayed. "Mulder, I don't believe in psychic healing! How can I learn something I don't even believe in?" He smiled. "It's what I keep saying - open yourself up to extreme possibilities, Scully." He smile faded. "After all, it saved your life yesterday from the soul-eaters' toxin. Anything that saves your life is an extreme possibility worth believing in." She stretched and groaned. "Well right now I'd like to be able to psychicly heal my aching body. I knew I had had a workout, but God, I'm really feeling it now." He walked over to her chair and gave her a hand up. In a low voice he said, "Maybe I can do something about that. Go get ready for bed." She looked at him quizzically, but his expression gave nothing away. She walked to the armoire, plucked out a pale blue silky thing, and went into the bathroom. Mulder gathered the used tea things on the tray, then extinguished the two torches. By the low light from the dying fire, he stripped out of his clothes and left them folded neatly over a chair. Naked, he padded over to the armoire and chose some soft dark blue shorts and slipped them on. When Scully came out of the bathroom, he entered to take his turn. Before the door closed, he stuck his head out of the opening. "Oh, and Scully? Take that blue thing off." Her head snapped around to look at him. Her eyes were huge. "What?" she said, in a hoarse whisper. He smiled. "Relax. You're just going to get the best massage of your life. Get into bed. I'll be out in a minute." He closed the door. When he emerged, Scully was in bed, covers up to her neck. The blue nightshirt lay on the bedcover near the bottom of the bed. Moving the silky hangings out of the way, he boosted himself up onto his side of the bed. "Roll over." Somewhat apprehensively she complied, turning over onto her stomach. He crawled over to her on hands and knees, straddled her upper thighs, and gently lowered himself. "Okay?" Silently, she nodded, then felt him pulling the warmth and safety of the bedclothes away, down past her shoulders, past her waist, just to the point she would have asked him to stop, had he not stopped of his own accord. She felt him lean over her, his special aroma registering in her senses, his breath on her back. He placed his warm hands on her neck, his thumbs running up the back of her neck in tiny circles to unknot the muscles at the base of her skull. When her neck muscles had relaxed, he started in first on her left shoulder, carefully avoiding the injured skin, then the right. Scully moaned a little, and he stopped. "Did I hurt you?" "Unh-uh." She shook her head a little. "Feels wonderful." His long fingers first kneaded the muscles of her shoulders and upper arms gently, then progressively more deeply until the knots had been completely smoothed out. He made his way down each arm, even massaging the tiny muscles of her hands and fingers, until they lay limp on the mattress. He then turned his attention to her back, his hands sweeping up in long, firm strokes. "Sorry, Scully," he murmured. "This would be a lot better with lotion or oil." Her words were muffled. "Mulder, if it were any better, I couldn't stand it." He smiled, then probed the muscles around her shoulder blades with his strong fingers for several minutes, working out all the kinks, and smoothed the skin with gentle strokes from his palms before going on to the middle of her back and repeating the the same magic there. Finally, he placed his hands low on the small of her back on either side of her spine, and using firm pressure made small circles with the heels of his hands over the tight muscles there. Scully gasped softly. Mulder hesitated for a second and took a breath, then continued. His voice was soft and shook slightly. "Any more of that, Dana, and I'm going to have to stop." He let his hands venture under the covers, and sensing no protest, extended the deep massage to her tailbone and hips for several minutes. Then he again smoothed the skin of her lower back with soft strokes from his palms before rolling up the covers to her shoulders. "Scully?" he whispered. "Dana?" Her breathing was deep and regular. He leaned over her to try to catch a glimpse of her face, but couldn't. Gently, he swept a lock of her hair back from the side of her neck and replaced it with his lips for the space of five heartbeats. Then he rolled from her, moved the bedcurtains and slid off the bed. Finding a blanket of sorts in the armoire, he walked to the hearth, moved the armchairs to face one another, and stretched out. Magician or not, there was no way he could stay in that bed with her right now. Eyes wide open, Scully drew in a tremulous breath. ----------------- "Good. Good, you're improving." Aldara stopped to wipe the perspiration from her face with the back of her arm. "How about a break?" Scully collapsed gratefully where she stood near the hay bales, and leaned back into them for support. She and Aldara had been drilling for what must have been hours now. The removal of the language barrier had been a huge relief. It had been nice to make small talk with Lita at breakfast this morning, and to be able to ask directions for getting around. Aldara had lost no time in taking advantage of being able to communicate and had worked Scully very hard. Physically, she was bone-tired, but she was starting to come to terms about being here and with her role in the Realm. Already, she felt herself becoming stronger, and exulted in it. Only when she thought of home and what her disappearance would do to her mother - again - did Scully have misgivings, so she tried to focus as much as possible on her job here. Aldara appeared, carrying the ubiquitous tea. She handed Scully one mug and sat down in the dust near her. Searching in her pocket, she brought out two small pieces of fruit, and tossed one to Scully, who caught it and smiled her thanks. "It's nice to finally be able to talk," Scully began. "How did you come to be a warrior? Seems like an odd occupation in such a peaceful place." "It isn't always peaceful, it just seems that way. Besides, there's the Prophecy - the time is coming, maybe soon." Her jaw tightened, then she repeated, "So, how did I come to be a warrior?" Aldara laughed, but it was laughter tinged with bitterness. "Probably because I was always fighting as a kid. I'm half human and half elf." She drew her hair back to show Scully her pointed ears. "Such mixtures aren't unknown, but they are unusual. The beings usually stick to their own kind. That was part of the problem, but not the biggest part. The real problem was that elves are very sensitive to magic and auras, and my father was particularly sensitive, even for an elf. He had abilities that, if they had been developed further, might have made him a very powerful magician. "Of course once my mother and he got together, that was out of the question. All my brothers and sisters seemed to inherit his physical characteristics and magic abilities - everyone except me. I grew to be even taller than my human mother, and was totally blind to the metaphysical, compared to the special sight that my brothers and sisters had. And which they never failed to use to their advantage whenever we played games or did chores. I just never felt I belonged, especially after my mother died in my sixth summer. I don't really blame my father, but he had more in common with the other kids, and spent more time and energy on them. Nothing I did seemed to please him. So I was always angry." Again, she laughed bitterly. "Quick anger is one of the few elven characteristics I did inherit from him. Anyway, it became clear that I needed either a way to get rid of the anger or to use it, and using it was easier. So I left home in my sixteenth harvest. I lived in the forest by my wits for a while, getting stronger, learning of the world. When I journeyed here to Fairwoods Keep, I offered my services and to my surprise, they accepted my offer." As Aldara talked, Scully couldn't help but make comparisons. She, too, had always tried to please her father, coming to the realization only after he was gone that he had been proud of her all along. And Mulder - his nightmare childhood didn't bear thinking about. Funny, she thought, how these experiences affect us. They either make us what we are, or we become what we are in spite of them. "Is the weather always changeable? That thunderstorm yesterday came out of nowhere." Scully still couldn't quite bring herelf to believe Mulder had caused it. Aldara looked puzzled for a minute, then her face cleared. "Oh, you mean the Mage-storm." "Mage-storm...I don't know what that is," said Scully, frowning. Aldara looked at her strangely, wondering where this traveller was from that she didn't know about Mage-storms. "There's thunderstorms, and then there's Mage-storms. Mage- storms happen when a magician becomes furious," Aldara explained. "They're different, more concentrated, more violent. They can even be directed at someone. Just one of the countless ways that magicians can use their power to frighten and intimidate," she finished coldly. "I take it you don't like magicians much." Aldara shrugged. "Not much, no." "My partner is a magician, you know. At least Reinald thinks he is." "I know. I heard." She was unenthusiastic. "Reinald's not bad, for a Mage." "I think you'll find that Mulder is quite a bit different from what you're expecting," Scully said. Aldara gave her an enigmatic look and stood up. "Take the guard off your sword. You've learned enough to protect yourself. Let's see what you can do." Scully removed the guard, grasped the hilt with both hands, and assumed the correct stance. With a throaty yell, she swung it first over her head and then toward Aldara, who fended off the blow easily, and launched one of her own. Scully blocked it inelegantly but effectively. Mulder stood in the shelter of a stack of wooden crates and observed the amazing scene before him. The clash of metal on metal rang in his ears as he watched the two figures whirl and thrust and parry, swinging the swords, much longer than their wielders were tall, with apparent ease. Suddenly Aldara's weapon sliced through the air with incredible speed. A thin line of red showed through the long cut in the left sleeve of Scully's tunic. He caught his breath and just managed to bite back a cry of concern. But if anything, the wound only spurred Scully on to greater ferocity. Mulder, his heart still beating in his throat, was speechless. Would his partner never cease to amaze him? He could understand now why his overprotectiveness might seem like an insult. He moved from behind the shelter of the crates and approached the two women. Scully lifted her sword and struck down at Aldara so hard that the warrior grunted, and a look of surprised approval came over her face. A couple of deft moves later, however, Scully's weapon was flying out of her hands, coming to lodge in the ground at Mulder's feet, and Aldara's sword was at her throat. The two women looked at each other and tried to catch their breath. "Excellent, very promising," panted Aldara, smiling and nodding. Scully merely grinned in response, not having enough breath to speak yet. But the praise from her exacting teacher elated her. She walked over toward Mulder, and used two hands to pull the weapon from the ground. She smiled up at him. "Hey, Mulder. You ready?" She refastened the guard to her sword, and passed the weapon to Aldara. "From what I've seen, no, I'm not even close to being ready. Are you a quick learner, Scully, or have you been hiding some of your talents from me? Skinner should see you now." She flashed a grin at him, then turned to Aldara and said, "This is Mulder. He can be a real pain in the ass, so don't let him give you any trouble." Turning back to Mulder, she did not see the warrior's look of anxiety. "Good luck, Mulder. You'll need it. Although I tired her out a little for you. You have no idea how much I'd like to stay for your lesson," she smiled impudently. Aldara's concern for her new friend grew. Didn't Scully realize that one just did not speak to a Mage like this? "Have a nice class with Corvay," he teased. In a very low voice, he said, "Maybe he can take a look at that arm. You ladies don't play nice, do you?" His half-smile did not entirely reach his eyes, which showed only his concern. "I'm okay, Mulder." She turned and started walking back toward the castle, then called over her shoulder, "Just be careful - she doesn't like magicians much." Inwardly, he groaned. Oh, great. He walked over to Aldara and smiled. "Hi. I'm Mulder. I'd shake hands with you, but I've been told that has dire consequences." Her unfriendly stare thawed slightly for a moment, and then once again became glacier cold. "What can you do with a sword, Mage?" "Well, I did a little fencing while I was at Oxford, but I've never used anything the size of those," He said, indicating the long blades. "Besides, that was a long time ago." The language spell had some problems with "Oxford", but Aldara understood the essence of what he said. "Those are women's weapons," she said, just short of making the words an insult. She walked over to the weapons rack and chose a sword at least eight inches longer and five pounds heavier. She attached a leather guard to it and handed it to Mulder, who was as startled as Scully had been at how heavy and cumbersome the weapon was. "Hold it like this. Watch, then do what I do." Quickly she demonstrated the basic moves. All right, Mage, she thought. Let's see what you can do with that. "Now, with me." Again, she quickly went through the sequence of practice moves and was surprised to see Mulder not only keeping up, but performing the actions with a grace and economy of motion that was astounding in a beginner. Aldara frowned a little when they had finished. "Not entirely bad. Again, by yourself this time." Mulder swung the sword, performing the whirls and kicks and slashes that made up the basics of Realm swordsmanship. Based on what Scully had said about Aldara's not liking magicians, he was not expecting effusive praise, although he felt he was doing pretty well. He wondered what she had against Mages. "Adequate. And again." Aldara watched him with an eagle eye for mistakes. For once, it was nice to have the upper hand when dealing with a Mage. She drilled him for over an hour without stopping, and he performed the basic moves repeatedly without comment or complaint. Perversely, the better he performed and the more he persevered, the more sullen Aldara became. So far, he had displayed no weakness, and had demonstrated skills that she had labored years to acquire. It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't fair at all. She began to get angry. "Now, Mage, let's see if you can apply what you've learned and put your new skills to some practical use." Aldara brought her sword up to fighting position. Perhaps it was her anger, perhaps it was something deeper. In any case, she did not notice that she had never refastened the leather guard onto her blade. Aldara launched herself at Mulder who acted purely out of instinct at first, throwing his blade up to repel hers, astonished at the force such a tiny figure could exert. Before he could get over the shock of the first attack, she was at him again, coming from the opposite side. Mulder dropped into a forward roll, sprang to his feet and turned to face her, bringing his sword from around his head to crash against hers with tremendous power. His unconventional move had startled her, breaking her concentration, and she had to use all her strength to fend off his blow. Aldara's temper flared as it hadn't done for years. Savagely, she attacked, swinging her sword, cutting the air with lightning speed, slicing through the air again and again. Mulder defended himself as best he could, but was clearly not a match for the seasoned fighter. He grimly maneuvered his blade to meet and stop each of her blows, knowing that he couldn't keep it up forever. Finally, her blade bit into the leather guard on his sword, and caught. Her next move twisted the weapon from his hands and sent it spinning out of his reach. He went down hard on his back, her weapon sharp against his throat. Urgently, he cried "Aldara, don't!" Hearing her name, Aldara slowly came to herself as her white-hot anger receded. She looked down at her opponent on the ground. Horrified, she saw the point of her unguarded sword under his chin, and a steady trickle of blood dripping from the tip of her weapon to collect in a little pool at the hollow of his throat. "Oh gods," she whimpered. The sword fell from her hands as she backed away from Mulder, her horrified eyes never leaving his. He got to his feet a little shakily, wiping the blood from his throat with the back of his hand and breathing deeply to counteract the wave of dizziness that hit him. He bent over with his head down, his hands braced on his knees. "Interesting teaching methods," he gasped. Aldara continued to retreat, shaking her head in terror, tears rolling down her face, until her heel caught in one of the hay bales and she fell heavily against it. Slowly standing upright and finding that the dizziness had passed, Mulder trudged over to her and extended a hand to help her up. "NO!" she screamed, cowering. She threw her arms around her head and curled up in a ball, trembling from head to toe. Mulder stopped. What the hell did HE do? Obviously, his proximity just made things worse, so he backed off a few feet and sat on the ground, catching his breath. His arms hugged his knees, and he rested his head on them, trying to clear his mind. Mentally he went through his magician's checklist, almost a mantra for him now, to make sure he wasn't inadvertently using his powers. Satisfied that his controls were in place and his power grounded, he sat and rested, hearing Aldara's hysterical sobbing slow and quieten, waiting until she was rational enough to talk. Shakily, angrily, Aldara wiped her face. What was he up to now? Maybe he was plotting. Maybe he would report her negligence to Jourdain, and she would be banished from the only real home she had ever known. Or worse, he would tell Reinald. And then together they would think of a spell so awful - "Aldara, are you all right?" Mulder asked gently. He was on his feet again and walking slowly toward her. "Did I do something wrong, something to upset you?" He sat on a bale a few feet away from her, anxiously scanning her face for any kind of a clue as to what was wrong. Her eyes narrowed. What was this? He actually seemed concerned about her. He definitely wasn't angry - even with her extremely limited sensitivity, she would be able to discern the aura of an infuriated Mage. His aura shimmered a brilliant calm blue, like a lake on a windless summer day. "It was inexcusable," she whispered. "You could have been killed." Mulder nodded. "Did you think I was going to hurt you?" "I was angry, and I wanted to teach you a lesson, and I didn't notice the guard was missing. Then I .... Mages have killed people for far less reason. When you tell Reinald, it may still be so." The terror came back into Aldara's eyes. She watched him closely. Mulder nodded again and considered. He couldn't believe that Reinald would ever deliberately hurt anyone, but her terror was obviously very real. "Okay. Then suppose we keep this our little secret." Anything, to remove the fear from those amazing green eyes. Aldara knew she should be silent and thankful that she had emerged from this incident with her life and limbs intact. But she just couldn't help herself. "Why are you doing this?" "Because it was a mistake and you didn't do it deliberately. Because I don't think it will ever happen again. Because you're Scully's friend. Because you're a damned good teacher, and what you teach us could save our lives someday. Because I don't work that way, I don't do that kind of thing." He shrugged. "Lots of reasons." She sat up, starting to relax a little. "You don't sound much like a Mage. Scully said you were different." He chuckled. "Scully was right. So - better now?" "Your throat - it's still bleeding a little. I-I'm sorry, I really am." He wiped at the blood on his throat again, looked at her and smiled. "I know you are. Don't worry about it, I've done worse myself, shaving." He hesitated for a second. "Do me a favor, though. That's a pretty awe-inspiring temper you have, and it makes me nervous. Don't ever get mad at Scully, okay? In fact, don't get mad at me again, either. If you're annoyed with me, tell me, alright? It's all right, Scully gets annoyed with me all the time." She finally smiled a little, then. Mulder stood and carefully extended his hand. She just as carefully grasped it, as he helped her up. "Same time tomorrow?" Mutely, she nodded. "Okay. Goodbye, Aldara. Thanks for the lesson." Her eyes followed him as he strolled back toward the castle, stopping to look at things which caught his interest on the way. Scully was right. He WAS different. ----------------- Scully pushed at the huge wooden door which swung outward onto a pleasant, sunny garden. At the far end of the garden was her destination, a small stone structure - the chamber and workroom of Corvay the Healer. She made her way along the path that wound through the plant beds, noting the confusion of scents eminating from them. The door of the little stone building was wide open and she poked her head inside. "Corvay?" A muffled, distant-sounding voice called, "Enter." Scully walked tentatively into the large but cluttered room, looking around for the owner of the voice. The room was long and narrow, with low ceilings, so low that in some places even Scully's head brushed the rough-hewn dark wood beams. Several cauldrons bubbled purposefully on the huge hearth, sending up clouds of steam. On every surface there were mortars and pots and jars holding creams and powders and elixirs. It looked chaotic, but she expected it was the same kind of chaos as in Mulder's office, where its occupant knew exactly where to lay his hands on everything. "Corvay?" Scully called again. A tiny figure emerged seemingly out of the very floor itself, until Scully noticed the open bulkhead doors which evidently led to some kind of a root cellar. "Sorry, my dear. Just gathering ingredients." He put a burlap sack on the nearest empty place he could find and bustled over to her. "Perhaps we can have some tea and you can tell me all about yourself, hmmm?" Corvay found a couple of low stools under a table and dragged them out, gesturing at Scully to sit. He handed her a mug, then poured one for himself and sat. She inhaled the fruit- scented steam and sipped at the scalding liquid. "Now, I know you are a healer, I can see it in your aura. What training have you had?" The elderly elf smiled expectantly. "I come from...very far away, and our cultures are very different. The healers where I come from have many machines and many, many helpers and other things you don't have. We may have some of the same herbal treatments - I think I noticed foxglove and nightshade in your garden. But for the most part, our healers have different methods. There is no psychic aspect to our healing." "No psychic aspect!" The little healer was plainly shocked. "How does anyone ever get better? How can you repair the whole person - his mind and soul, as well as his body - if that aspect is neglected? How can you remove the cornerstone and not have everything collapse? Gods, how can you even be sure what is wrong, if you don't use your mental energy?" Scully shrugged, feeling she had to defend her world and her profession. "We have developed complex instrumentation to help us diagnose the causes of injury and illness. Most of the time, it works fairly well. In any case, it is the only form of healing we know." "What a strange place you come from," said Corvay, shaking his head. "Healers that don't heal and magicians who never cast a single spell. It would appear then that we have a lot to cover. Thank the gods that your natural psi ability is so high." "Psi ability? I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," Scully said, politely but firmly. "Oh no, no mistake, my dear. You have quite exceptional ability, it's quite clear. I can sense it from quite a distance. I can tell it's untrained - your projections are not very focused - but it is certainly there. Very well, let's begin, shall we?" He bustled over to the table, his long brown tunic dragging on the wooden floor. "Now, let's start with the herbals we have in common, and we'll go from there." For the next half hour or so, Scully wracked her brain for what she remembered of her botany and pharmacology classes. Using quill pen and parchment supplied by the healer, she took careful notes, especially when the lesson proceeded into areas not covered in Med school, such as troll toxicology and the allergies common in gargoyles. She was in the middle of such a note when she felt a sudden sense of disorientation. One instant she was sitting with Corvay, the next she was facing Aldara, who, with teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, was taking him/her to the ground with the point of her sword at his/her throat. "Aldara, don't!" Corvay's head snapped up and he looked over to see a very white and shaken Scully. "Sit down before you fall down, Scully, my dear." The healer took her arm and helped her to a stool. "Now, what's the problem?" "I'm okay - it was just for a minute - " " - you were somewhere else, " he continued for her, very matter of factly. "With Mulder, I assume. Everything all right now?" "I - yeah, I think so, I think it is now." Scully took a couple of deep breaths and rubbed her throat thoughtfully. "Quite a demonstration for someone with no psi ability, wouldn't you say?" teased Corvay. Scully gave him a long look, then dropped her head into her hands and didn't answer him. What the hell was going on? She was really starting to doubt her sanity now. "This really is all very new to you, isn't it?' asked the healer, wonderingly. Becoming more distressed by the second, Scully nodded. "It never happened before we came here, and now it keeps happening - all of a sudden I'll be Mulder, or sometimes he'll be me - and it scares the hell out of me! If that's what psi ability does for me, I don't want it!" she shouted. Scully felt like the floodgates were opening - all the misgivings and fears and threats to her beliefs were rushing out in a torrent. She was near tears. "It just happens, there's no controlling it. I know it's Mulder that's in there, and I know we're - we're close. And while there's no one else I'd rather have in my brain, it's MY brain - I really don't want ANYONE randomly popping into it. And when I'm in his head, I feel like I'm invading HIS privacy." She was weeping openly now, her tone down to a hoarse whisper. "I shared a nightmare with him the other night, something from his past, something that really happened. I saw so much he hadn't told me, hadn't told anyone because he didn't WANT anyone to know - the terror, the pain, the guilt. Now I know, and he knows that I know. How's that supposed to make him feel? What's that going to do to us, what will that kind of stress do to our relationship? And what if someone other than Mulder gets in there? At least I trust Mulder." She wept, brokenly. "What am I talking about? None of this can be happening. I really don't think I can take too much more of this." The healer took her small hands in his even smaller ones, and probed gently into her mind, mentally soothing, calming and comforting. "First, I believe if you really think about it, you will find it did happen before you came here, but you weren't attuned to it. Or more precisely, you didn't WANT to be attuned to it, so you tried to block it out. It won't work, you know - you still have the gift, no matter how much you may try to ignore it." He released her hands, and smiled. "And you really don't have to worry about anyone else being in your brain other than Mulder. Healers may enter, but we have a very strict ethical code about that kind of thing. These empathic links between you and Mulder - it's not just your psi ability, there's something else at work here, too, something specific to the two of you. There's no need to fear for your relationship, as in time you will come to understand. But I can help you learn to control these experiences." Scully was calmer now, and unaware that the healer had helped to instill that state, so gentle was his touch. "How can I control what I'm not sure even exists? You don't understand - this sort of thing goes against everything I've always believed in." "You don't believe in psychic healing, either?" asked the little elf. "Thoughts don't heal people," Scully said firmly. "Thoughts are just - thoughts." "Well, there's thoughts and there's psychic energy and the two are not necessarily the same, but we won't argue over semantics. Someone who demands proof! Very well, let us construct a little experiment, shall we? What happened to your arm?" Scully glanced down. "Oh. Just got a little too close to Aldara's sword. It's nothing, it will heal in a few days." "What if I were to tell you that we - you - will heal it today, right now?" "I'd say that you were crazy," Scully said flatly. The healer laughed. "Very well, we'll see. Will you try this?" "Experimentation is at the very heart of the scientific method. I have no objection to an experiment," agreed Scully. "Good. Get comfortable, and close your eyes. Just listen to me and do as I ask you to do. Are you comfortable?" "Yes. Look - you're not going to hypnotize me, are you? I really don't want that." "If you mean inducing a trance state, no, it's not like that, exactly. I'm just the instruction manual, if you will. I'm just going to tell you what to do, and if you agree, you're going to do it. In no way will you have to reveal yourself, or will you be under my power or anything like that. Now, are you agreed? Ready to proceed?" "What if I change my mind after we've started?" Scully was clearly nervous. "That's all right, you can do that. I don't think you're going to want to, but you may do that if you wish, " Corvay said patiently. Scully took a deep breath. "All right, I'm ready." "Splendid. Try to relax. Place your right hand on your left arm. All right, clear your mind of everything except your arm, the wound in your arm. Picture it. Picture what is going on in your body right now, under your skin, in your veins - the elements of the healing process that are working to close the wound. Visualize them, travelling to the wound. Can you see them, Scully?" Slowly, Scully nodded. As she listened to Corvay's soothing voice, she felt herself beginning to relax. And with the sense of calm, came an odd, yet somehow familiar, sense of inner awareness. "Watch them," Corvay urged gently. "They are moving much too slowly. They need to move faster. Picture them moving more quickly. Make them move faster, will them to move more quickly. Let some of your energy flow from your hand to help them move more quickly. Can your hand feel them, can you see them moving faster?" Again, Scully nodded. She COULD see them, the white cells racing to the site to prevent infection, the skin cells regenerating, faster and faster at her will. She directed them, first here, now there, always more quickly. Finally, from what sounded like a very long way away, she heard "You can let them move more slowly now, you can let them return to rest." "Scully, open your eyes." She dragged herself back from wherever she had been and looked at the healer, dazed and tired. He was smiling at her. "Look at your arm and tell me I'm crazy." She looked down at her arm. The deep abrasion was gone without a trace. "I did that?" she said, shaken. Corvay nodded. "You did it entirely yourself - all I did was to help you center your thoughts, your energy. The healing you did on your own. Now, this was very simple test, it's usually much more involved, but I think we can call the experiment a success, wouldn't you agree?" "Yes," said Scully absently. "Yes, I guess so." She looked disturbed, more now than she had earlier. "What is it, my dear?" asked Corvay, surprised. He had expected her to be pleased that she had successfully healed the scratch, especially at her first attempt. Her reaction puzzled him. She looked at him, the confusion and pain, almost panic, evident in her eyes. "I need to think about this. Will you please excuse me?" He stood back and watched her trip blindly through the door and out into the garden. - - - - - After his taxing morning with Reinald followed by his workout with Aldara, Mulder had returned to their bedchamber exhausted. Intending to do nothing but sit and relax by the fire, he had felt himself sliding further and further into a state of torpor, finally succumbing entirely. Suddenly he awoke, with a disturbing picture in his mind. But what he saw made no sense. In his mind was an image of a building, a fine tall modernistic skyscraper. Suddenly, the foundation began cracking, mortar and stone crumbling to dust before his eyes. The cracks spread further, higher up, to weaken all the upper stories of the building. More stone and brick started falling from the building, until with an ungodly roar, the whole structure started to collapse in a cloud of dust. And somehow, all of this had a connection with Scully. He tried to quell the rising anxiety he felt. It couldn't be really happening, there were no skyscrapers in this world. A representation, then? A psychic analogy? But for what? He made a conscious effort to relax and make his mind receptive. Gradually, his surroundings changed. They were vague shadows at first, but the images soon became sharper and more defined. He was in a low, crowded room, a room that smelled oddly, with lots of jars and things around. Scully! He saw Scully, and she was with Corvay, and she was upset, near tears. Then, like a door had opened, he heard them speaking, Corvay pleased with the success of some experiment, Scully shaken to her core. A healing experiment, Scully had tried psychic healing and had succeeded. But rather than feeling happy about it, she was confused, lost. All her long held-beliefs were crumbling, and she was too frightened to believe in anything else. Mulder felt her turbulent emotions, her incredible pain, the sense of betrayal, of fear, of being alone. Standing, he saw her stumbling down long stone corridors in emotional agony. He had to get to her. Now. - - - - - Almost in a daze, Scully followed the hallways, taking notice of nothing, her feet moving automatically, stumbling a little over uneven areas in the stone floors. Corridors that don't exist, thought Scully. They CAN'T exist. Because if they exist, then everything else does as well. And the magic and the psychic healing and the gargoyles and elves and trolls - none of those can exist, they can't be real. Only science...only science - Scully's vision was blinded by the hot tears welling up in her eyes. Science didn't explain any of this. Therefore, it couldn't be happening, right? She was insane, or have been slipped some hallucinogenic drug or something. Not much comfort there. Or was science betraying her? Maybe all this existed and science wasn't real, and she had been believing in a lie, living a lie her whole life. Scully's pace quickened, as if she could flee the torment of her thoughts. Oblivious to everything else, she rounded a corner and crashed into some young guards wearing the colors of one of the noble houses. She backed up without really seeing them, mumbled a vague apology, and moved to go around them. "Not so fast, woman," said the tallest one as he roughly grabbed her left wrist. "We are of the House of Dordinal, and you will give us the respect we deserve." His friends muttered encouragement. There were four of them in all, young humans spoiling for trouble. "Look, I'm sorry, it was an accident." Scully's voice had an edge to it, born of the emotional turmoil she had experienced that afternoon. The last thing she needed was a gang of bullies - drunk, by the smell of them - to have to deal with. She attempted to break free of his grasp, but he tightened it, throwing her painfully against the stone wall of the hallway and pinning her there with the weight of his body. He leered down at her. "I don't think you're sorry, you don't sound sorry at all. Whose servant are you, that they let you go about in ripped and dirty clothing and insulting the cream of the House of Dordinal?" The hand not grasping her wrist slid down her face, her neck and continued touching and grabbing at her the length of her body. His friends looked on avidly, calling their support. A little belatedly, Scully's mind turned from the problem of her crumbling belief system and applied itself to the more urgent problem at hand. Coldly, clearly, she said, "I'm only going to say this once. Let go of me and back off now." Her words were greeted with hoots of derision by the his friends, and with furor by the guard holding her. His free hand now went to her throat, squeezing, and he practically spat out, "You will live or die by my pleasure, bitch, and you'll wish you were dead before I'm through." Suddenly, Scully felt an icy anger overwhelm her. Her right hand flashed out to her captor's belt and ripped his dagger from its sheath. She pressed it to his throat. Looking directly into his drunken face and never raising her voice, she said, "I said, let go of me and back...off...now." The other guards were confused for a few seconds, then began to move toward her. Smiling, she pressed on the knife tip, drawing blood, and the guard's eyes grew wide. "Get back! She's a lunatic! She's going to kill me!" The others stopped and began to back away. Suddenly, Scully felt Mulder with her in her mind, frantically trying to find her in the maze of hallways. Mentally she reassured him, and maintained the contact, letting it act as a beacon to draw him to her. "Now," she snarled, never removing the pressure of the dagger tip, "Let's get something straight. I am a guest of the Mage Reinald, and I have travelled here with another Mage. Don't EVER touch me again. Don't ever lay your hands on ANY woman as you have touched me. One word from me will have two Mages deciding your fate, and your puny imaginations can't even begin to think of the horror they will cast for you. Is that clear?" Most of the young guards backed away at the mention of Reinald's name. The bully who had threatened her was mad with terror. But one of his friends looked at her and sneered to the others, "She's lying, look at her. She doesn't know any Mage. We can take her!" Coolly, a voice said, "I wouldn't try - I've seen her in action, and frankly, I don't think you stand a chance. In fact, I don't think you boys are responsible enough to be around sharp objects right now." He was still for a few a seconds, then suddenly, their swords flew from their sheaths to hang in midair next to Mulder, who leaned against a wall, shield deliberately tuned down to let his mage aura flare, arms crossed negligently in front of him. Four pairs of eyes stared, then four sets of legs pounded away from them down the hallway, stumbling in their panic. Mulder walked over to Scully. "Tough day?" - - - - - They walked mutely back to their chamber, where Lita had laid the table for a meal neither of them really wanted. They ate a little, out of a sense of duty to Lita and to their stomachs, but sighed with relief when she cleared away the supper things, readied the room for the night, and departed. They moved to the armchairs and sat staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts, occasionally wondering who would be the first to break the long silence that stretched out between them. "Mulder, I owe you an apology." He looked over at her, startled. Of all the things she could have said, this was the least expected. "What makes you think that, Scully?" he asked softly. She continued to look into the fire. "Because during our entire association, I've been denying what you've shown me, denying what my own eyes have seen. Denying everything because I couldn't explain it using scientific law. I don't know anything anymore, Mulder." She turned to look at him, the pain of her admission reflected in her eyes. "In the last two days, we've seen and experienced things that make anything we've seen before pale in comparison. And I can't explain any of it. I don't know what to believe anymore, what to put my trust in. But I know it's not science." He looked at her with limitless sympathy. "I can't tell you what to believe, Scully. I wish I could. But you have to decide that for yourself. Science explains some things very well. Maybe we don't know enough about science. Maybe we just have to expand its definition a bit; or consider magic the local equivalent of science. It certainly follows a distinct set of rules - or laws - which are determined by experimentation. Goodness knows I've spent enough time memorizing them." He shrugged. "As for why things work one way in our world and another way here, I don't know. Perhaps certain things just ARE. Maybe you should just accept that and move on from there." She sat and thought for some time about what he said, and once again there was silence between them. She sighed. "I had another one today - a vision. What happened between you and Aldara?" "She got angry with me and got a little carried away. You know how I can have that effect on people," he smiled. "Don't worry, it's all straightened out now, everything's fine. I had one too - when you were upset after you did some psychic healing. Congratulations, by the way." Scully nodded. "Yeah. Well." She shifted in the chair. "I - ummm - spoke to Corvay about the visions. He seems to think they're a function of my psi abilities and something particular about the two of us that he was very coy about. In any case, he wasn't surprised that we were having them. Mulder, how do you really feel about the visions?" He didn't insult her by giving her an easy, quick answer that he thought she'd find palatable. He considered the question for a long time and answered her honestly. "There are aspects of it I could do without, " he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, Scully, if anyone has to be in my head, I'd want it to be you," he said hastily. "But there's things in there I hate looking at, myself. I hate even more the idea of their being inflicted on you." Scully smiled a little. "That's almost exactly what I said to Corvay. It's not so much that what's in there is shocking or disillusioning or whatever. We know each other pretty well - strengths, weaknesses, bad habits, sex lives or lack of them. That stuff is minor. It's more the sense of trespass that bothers me. Does that make any sense?" "Perfect sense," he agreed, nodding. "But Scully, I have to tell you. Mostly I don't mind it, in fact I really kind of like it. Today, for the first time, I consciously used this empathic link we seem to share. I was concerned about you and I just reached out and I saw you. It was amazing." His voice was soft with awe and wonder. "Then I came looking for you and I felt like," - he looked at her for confirmation - "like you were reaching out to me. And it made me feel better. And it led me right to you." She nodded. "Yeah, I thought I might need your help with those guards. It was interesting, using the link that way, consciously I mean. Also somewhat ironic, as I was well on the way to convincing myself that it didn't exist." Thoughtfully, she said, "Corvay said we could learn to control it. Presumably he meant to preserve some privacy, or make it a voluntary rather than an involuntary link." Scully sighed. "I guess I feel pretty much as you do. I can certainly see where it would come in handy, as it did today. I can also see where unless we learn to control it, that it could be a terrible invasion, too." She was quiet for a while, her head back against the chair cushion and her eyes closed. "I'm so tired," she said simply. "We'll deal with this better in the morning after some rest. We can both go see Corvay, see what we can do about controlling this. You go ahead and take the bathroom first." Mulder performed what he was beginning to think of as his nighttime duties - checking on the fire, clearing up, extinguishing the torches. He undressed and chose some shorts from the armoire and pulled them on. On his way to the bathroom, he gave Scully a boost into bed. A few minutes later he came out, extinguished the last torch, and got into bed. For a long time they lay with a wide expanse of bed - their no man's land - between them. Consumed and exhausted by their thoughts, they willed their bodies and minds to relax, for sleep to come. Out of nowhere, Mulder thought he heard a tiny voice, so faint as to be almost inaudible, as if it were coming from a locked vault. Lost and alone, the tiny voice pleaded, "Hold me." Did that come from me or from Scully, he wondered. The aching need to hold and to be held grew overwhelming. Now the voice grew stronger, out from behind barriers. "Hold me!" it insisted, demanding to be heard, demanding to be obeyed. They found each other in their no man's land, and found their peace, sleeping soundly in each other's arms. ----------------- Time passed. For Mulder and Scully the days were filled with what had become a familiar routine. Lesson piled upon lesson, in an almost overwhelming flood of information and skills to be learned. Yet absorbed as they were by the intensive training, they still managed to find time to explore the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, and to make friends among the varied and colorful residents of Fairwood Castle. They soon came to like and respect the peoples of the Realm. As the flow of days and nights turned into weeks, Aldara continued to push Scully hard, drilling her for hours on the practice fields. It seemed to Scully that no sooner had she mastered one skill, the relentless half-elf would have several more for her to learn, each increasingly more difficult than the last. The soft skin of her hands blistered then hardened into tough calluses, while the untried muscles of her arms and shoulders slowly, achingly strengthened until the unfamiliar weight of the sword became a comfortable extension of her hand. There was no small sense of triumph when out of a combination of frustration and fierce determination, she finally pierced through her instructor's guard for the first time, scraping Aldara's shoulder with the point of her sword. But even more satisfying than the increasing confidence in her own abilities, was the warmth of friendship and understanding that flourished between the dark half-elf warrior and her human pupil. The hours spent in exhausting physical combat training were balanced by the mental challenge provided by the demands of Realm-style healing. At first Scully had been deeply skeptical of Corvay, her scientific training making her suspicious of his spell and herb-based treatments. But doubt had given way to astonishment and fascination, as her own unexpected talent asserted itself. Every sensation of a patient's pain working its way into her body, each successful probe of her mind into the tissues and cells, feeling them respond to the force of her will, increased her desire to learn even more. The disciplines of mind and body complemented each other, new skills building on the previous ones, so that by the end of each long day she would find herself wandering back to the room she shared with Mulder with a mixed sense of accomplishment and bone-deep exhaustion. The long days were no less trying for Fox Mulder. Reinald drove him with ruthless fervor, trying desperately to squeeze a lifetime's worth of learning into a few precious weeks. They progressed in leaps and spurts, interspersed by long hours of frustration as Mulder struggled valiantly to control the mage- energy that always seemed so close to bursting out of his wavering grasp. Learning the history, rules, and long spell chants was easier, his eidetic memory devoured knowledge at an extraordinary rate. The problem was in translating the intellectual understanding into successful performance - something that can only come with experience, and both men were only too aware that their time was running short. - - - - - Fox Mulder rested his hands on the top of the stone wall and stared out into the garden. So much of it was familiar, green grass, bright flowers, oak and pine and maple trees. But then, just out of the corner of his eye, there would be an odd combination of colors, a strange shape, an anomaly. Sometimes it would be no more than a purple colored fruit, or a quick glimpse of an elf's pointed ear. Sometimes it would as unnerving as a gargoyle's pointed smile and or a troll's clawed hand. Continuous reminders of just how far from home they were. As dusk turned to night, the stars began to twinkle against the soft black of the sky. Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the unfamiliar constellations, searching yet again for a recognizable configuration of little bright dots. There, perhaps, an overstretched big dipper perhaps, and there just possibly a two- belted Orion. He shook his head, a feeling of intense home- sickness sweeping over him. Would they ever find their way back? "Mulder?" Scully's voice was warm in his ear. He didn't respond as her footsteps brought her to his side. He hadn't needed to hear her voice to know she was behind him, by now he always knew where she was. It was like having a part of himself walking around separate, and yet not separate. As she came to stand next to him, her head tilted upwards toward him, her auburn hair slipping down over her shoulders in a riot of color. "The stars are different." Mulder finally angled his head to look down at her. "Have you noticed that, Scully." "Yes," she replied. "But it's the two moons that always surprises me." Mulder nodded, and turned to stare back up at the sky. Scully watched him in silence, admiring the way the long, dark blue tunic graced the lean strength of his body as the wind stirred up tendrils of his dark hair, which he had been letting grow out of its FBI-standard short cut. She loved how the sharp planes and angles of his face were defined by the dim light, the hollows lining his high cheekbones and the determined thrust of his jaw. His dark hazel eyes were turned away from her now, searching the sky for the answers it refused to supply. "We'll get home." Scully spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. He just shrugged his shoulders. No use in going over it again, the hopeless round of questions without answers. There was simply no assurance that the vortex would ever open to their world again, even if Reinald tried to influence it. Apologetic as he had been, the mage could make no promises that he could direct the portal successfully; the attempt that had brought them through had been more chance than expertise. And given that one portal opening was tuned to the Dark Realm, would it even be safe to try? Beyond that, there remained the question of whether they could abandon this Realm to its fate, thereby failing to aid the people who were quickly becoming their friends. Neither Mulder or Scully could find any easy solutions. "Yes, of course we will." Mulder spoke the words as if by saying them he could simply make it so. A small voice inside him said that he would make it work, at least for Scully. He was going to see her home safe, if he had to die trying. As if she had read his thoughts, and perhaps she had, Scully reached out to grasp his arm. "The operative word there is 'we,' Mulder. No more 'drawing the line' for me. I'll draw my own, and the first one is that, whatever happens to us, we handle it together. Leave me and I'll find you and kick your ass, even if I have to go through ten vortexes to do it." Mulder laughed, and placed his hand over hers. "I'd never even think about it, Scully. I've seen you handle a sword." A sudden image flashed in front of his eyes from their practice swordfight just a few days before. This beautiful woman, now dressed in a flowing blue gown, her hair curled into soft ringlets, had then been standing triumphant over his prone body, the point of her sword unerringly aimed at his throat. Her lips raised in a half-snarl, her blue eyes had glittered down at him from a flushed and dusty face, her breath coming in short gasps as she recovered from the fury of the swordplay. His greatest surprise hadn't been losing to her, which he had done many times before, it had been the sudden realization that she had never looked more gloriously lovely, more truly, dominantly herself, than she did in that very moment, despite all the dirt and sweat and disheveled clothes. Of course, that hadn't stopped him from giving her a literal shock of his own. Closing his eyes in apparent surrender, he had sent a wave of magical energy up the sword, turning the metal hotter and hotter until she dropped the glowing silver metal with a cry of dismay. He wasn't likely to ever forget the flash of fury in her eyes as she realized what he'd done, even though it had disappeared in a rapid wave of mirth, as she laughingly accused him of cheating. "And don't forget it!" she challenged him lightly, jolting him out of his reverie. A smile hovering on the edge of his lips, he didn't bother to reply. Instead he stood staring down into her eyes, suddenly held spellbound by one of those flashes of communion, those rare, but consuming instants in which they were bound in total understanding. They froze in place, minds melding, as bright images burned into their brain, each seeing him/herself as though looking through the other's eyes. "Is that how I look to him/her?" they thought simultaneously, a flood of emotions threatening to break the dam of self-control each had so carefully built. Scully unconsciously leaned up against Mulder as he bent his head down to hers, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss so sweet it brought tears to her eyes. She responded avidly, pressing her body up against the heat of his, sighing deep in her throat. For a long precious moment, they savored the touch and feel of each other, only to have the enchantment broken as his mouth found the salty drops on her cheeks. "Dana," he breathed her name, his eyes finding hers as he gently stroked her cheek. She saw the fear and anxiety deepen in his expression, turning the diamond-like color of his eyes into coal. She shook her head slightly, not able to find the words to express what she was feeling, and just as quickly as it had come, the instant of empathy faded and was gone, leaving them shaken and confused in its aftermath. They remained clasped in each other's arms, neither willing to make the first move for several endless uncomfortable seconds. Then with a deep breath, Mulder stepped back away from her. Holding his left hand out between them, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. In no more than a blink of an eye, a small glowing sphere of blue light appeared in the palm of his hand. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning upwards to float a few inches above his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, he looked down at Scully who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and rueful amazement. "Would you like to take a walk in the garden, my Lady?" He bowed gracefully at the waist, then held out his arm for her. Scully let out a bright peal of laughter as she took his proffered elbow, deeply relieved and delighted to have the uncomfortable silence broken by his irreverent good humor. "I'd love to, kind sir" she replied. Together they walked around the stone wall and down the path, their way lit by the small blue globe floating a few inches above their heads. In the shadows under a large oak, a small brown figure watched them walk by, the small vibrant woman leaning happily against her taller male companion. Totally absorbed in each other, neither noticed their silent observer, innocently unaware of the jealous rage stirring in his heart. - - - - - Mirta bounced on the hay in her parent's wagon. "Market Day! Market Day!" The little troll was so excited. She loved going to the big human village with its bright colors, bustle and activity, and above all its stalls filled with food of all kinds. Last month her mother had bought her a fancy pastry with crumbly bread surrounding a spicy meat filling. Her stomach growled just at the thought, while she leaped even higher into the air, laughing as she fell down hard into the soft hay. At her mother's warning glance, she settled down in the wagon, giggling with joy. - - - - - From the edge of the forest, the green-scaled Hunter scout eyed the little troll with hunger boiling in its belly. She would make no more than a couple of mouthfuls, a sweet-tasting appetizer, but her parents would make a full meal. Gearing up on its powerful hind legs, it poised itself to attack. - - - - - Market Day at Wide River village was an important event in the southwest region of Fairwood Domain, happening only once a moon-cycle. People of all races flocked to the little town with wagons full of wares and goods. By dawn, the central green was already crowded with little stalls, filled with everything from fruits and vegetables to linen, cutlery, weapons and livestock. The air filled with a wide variety of appetizing smells, laughter and bargaining, children's voices raised in play. Elves bargained with trolls, and gargoyles with humans, trading a gleaming silver knife for a hand-crafted pot, a painstakingly embroidered shirt for a rare set of spices, bread for meat. Amid the bustle and hustle, children darted in and out, chasing each other in an elaborate variety of games. It was into the middle of this semi-organized chaos that the troll family's wagon, bobbling on a broken axle, was dragged by a pair of snorting, wild-eyed horses. "Henon, Watch out!" screamed a young gargoyle, grabbing her brother's hand and yank him out of the way of the way of the rearing, bloodied horses as they raced panic-stricken into the busy marketplace. People scattered out of the way as hay and vegetables spilled from the damaged wagon. Finally crashing head-first into a food stand, the horses squealed and reared up onto their hind legs, front hooves clawing the air in terror, coming to halt amid a mess of spilled stew and rolling loaves of bread. One small object rolled out of the wagon to come to halt at the feet of a young elven girl, her white-blond hair bound into two long braids behind her pointed ears. Reaching automatically to pick it up, her skin turned a pale white as a stunned gasp of fright escaped her lips. Taking a huge lung full of air, she let out a horrific screetch. "Hunters," she cried in sudden comprehension. "Hunters! Hunters! Hunters!" Almost simultaneously, the tower watch echoed her cries, alarm drums sounding in a frantic, staccato beat. No one wasted a moment in response. Pandemonium broke loose as mothers grabbed children, brothers grabbed sisters, men reached for swords and knives and spears. A thousand voices yelled at once as stalls full of goods, dishes and linens, vegetables and jewelry, bread, and tools were abandoned. As the last door was slammed and bolted, the town gate swung shut with a bang, leaving only a determined line of armed men fiercely eyeing the road from whence the wagon had come. In the deserted marketplace, amid the scattered breads and dusty trails of stew, the small object lay still and abandoned on the ground: the ripped and bloody hand of a baby troll. - - - - - The villagers fought valiantly, the men fighting desperately to protect their families and homes. But inch by inch, death by death, the pack of Hunters devoured their way closer to the village. In the center of the pack were a pair of Destroyers, their twisted, half-human, half-lupine faces sneering in a mockery of pleasure as they watched each man stumble and fall, surrounded by the eternally hungry Hunters. One Destroyer leaned down off its mount and wrenched the arm off a half- devoured, still living man, laughing as the human convulsed in voiceless agony and collapsed as a hunter tore into the skin of his neck, nearly detaching his head in one clean bite. The Destroyer leaped on ahead, brandishing the severed arm like a trophy, only to be struck in the face with a blast of blue flame. Standing on the roof of the gate tower, the village mage braced himself, and drawing on every last bit of energy he had, he let loose one more blue thunderbolt, this time striking the twisted dark-clad figure in the center of his chest. With a roar of agonized rage, it fell backwards from its mount, an unrecognizably horrible beast with the face of a wolf and the body of a lizard. Startled by the sudden loss of its master, the beast reared up, clawing the air, while its barely humanoid rider scrambled to his feet. From his perch on the top of the village gate-tower, Bradnor gathered the shreds of his shield around himself, anticipating a counter-attack from the now upright Destroyer. The cloak fell back from the creature's face, revealing cold yellow eyes and pointed fangs. Bradnor braced himself as it cursed vehemently in a raspy voice and directed a gnarled hand with long, pointed fingers at him. A black, roiling whirlwind appeared as the Destroyer snarled out a series of unintelligible syllables, spinning toward the young, terror-sticken mage, excreting a appalling stench. Falling down into the center of a sticky web that inexorably tightened upon his mind and body, the village mage closed his eyes and threw his remaining life's energy into a desperate call for help. Even as the sticky filaments ate into his flesh like acid, his mind fought its way loose, abandoning his doomed body, ranging across the Realm in search of a mind strong enough to hear his call. ----------------- Fox Mulder swung the sword sideways, determined that this time he was going to beat Aldara without having to resort to magic. His small, quick opponent leapt forward, her sword flashing in the sun as it weaved an intricate dance, nearly striking him in the center of his chest. But he was ready for it. Leaping sideways, he brought his sword down in an arch on her extended arm, hitting her forearm with the flat of the blade. "Got you...." he crowed, his voice trailing off as the sudden weight of another's mind came crashing down upon him. His weapon clattering to the ground, Mulder clutched at his throbbing temples as he was deluged with a vivid series of nightmarish images: a creature from his worst nightmare waving the bloody stump of a human arm, lizard-like creatures with stubby wings and long jaws spitting fire at a small group of men defending themselves with swords and pitchforks, a spinning black spider web closing in on him, tightening on his limbs, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Aldara's words of praise and challenge stopped in mid- flow as Mulder collapsed to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. She rushed forward to grab hold of him, but he pushed her away with trembling hands, mage energy sending blue currents up and down his body. As sparks shot out into the air, the sky grew thick and dark. A bolt of lightning struck Mulder's forgotten sword in a brilliant flash of light, sending Aldara scurrying backwards away from the trembling, senseless mage. Water drained from a boiling gray mass of clouds, turning the dusty practice field into a sea of mud. In its center a tall, slender figure slowly pulled himself to his feet and with a sobbing cry stretched up his arms toward the sky. Blue fire lanced around those arms, flames spurting out into the rain, throwing an eerie blue gleam over the scene. Lightning raced through the atmosphere, then gathered and flowed downwards twining itself around the blue-glazed man who stood alone. Bitter laughter echoed as he tossed bolts of blue and white power up at the menacing clouds, causing them to scatter and break, froth and rage. Lightning bounced up and down, creating a blinding firestorm of light. Rain fell in thick sheets, shimmering curtains of water lit by brilliant rays of light, eminating outward in strobe-like fashion from the seemingly frail body standing upright at the center of the hurricane. The Mage- storm grew in intensity until it crashed inward on itself, exploding currents of blue-tinged air gushing outwards to flatten everything in their path. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Aldara picked herself up off the ground wearily, automatically checking to see if any bones had been broken. Then eyeing the motionless man - Mage - standing drenched and mud- stained several feet away, she was hit by a sudden desire to run as far and fast as she could. What on earth had she thought she was doing, playing sword master to a Mage of such power? One wrong move and he could blast her from this world with no more than a casual thought. She had been a fool to let a warm smile and friendly good humor blind her to what he truly was. Terrified and angry, she turned to leave, when the sound of a body hitting the ground in a splashing thud caught her attention, and despite herself she turned to look. Mulder had collapsed in an awkward pile of limbs, his face pressed down into a puddle of mud, his legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles. She took one step towards him, then halted, then took another, then halted again. Finally cursing her own foolhardy stupidity, she rushed over to his side, pulling his head up to rest in her lap. "MULDER!" Nearly tumbling down into the mud as she ran across the soaked field, Scully slid down beside her unconscious partner and shoved Aldara aside, too upset to even notice her as more than an obstacle. Perfectly willing to hand Mulder over to Scully, Aldara wiggled backwards, gasping in surprise a big hand closed around her arm and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flashing upwards, hands automatically moving into a defensive posture, she abruptly relaxed she found herself staring into the worried face of Captain Jourdain. "What happened?" he asked, even as the blue-robed figure of Mage Reinald rushed past them both to kneel down beside Scully and Mulder. "I don't know," Aldara replied, trying to rub some of the muck off her face with an equally dirty hand, as she looked up into Jourdain's blue eyes. "One minute we were practicing - he was doing well - the next he just collapsed. Then he started throwing mage energy like a child throwing hoopballs. I've never seen so much power, I thought he was going to burn himself alive!" Jourdain held the small half-elf close, his large hands nearly spanning her waist. "Just thank the Gods he didn't burn YOU alive." "No," Reinald interrupted, from his position below their feet. "Mulder would never do anything to hurt you, Aldara. He was just taken by surprise. The village of Wide River was attacked by a pack of Hunters led by two Destroyers. The village mage sent out a cry for help, just as he was dying. Mulder received the brunt of it because I was heavily shielded in my workroom, testing out a very precise spell. I think Mulder was overwhelmed by being mind-linked to the other mage at the very moment he died. Mulder's mind may believe it died too, and that belief could be enough to convince his body as well." Jourdain stared Mulder's prone figure, being rocked gently by Scully, in shocked sympathy. Aldara felt a deep pang of guilt twist her belly, as she turned in Jourdain's grasp to look down at the injured mage with tear-filled green eyes. As though divining her thoughts, Jourdain's deep voice whispered in her ear, "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done for him, even if you had known what was happening." "I know," Aldara replied in a barely audible voice, "but..." But she had let her fear and hatred of the mage-talent blind her to an innocent man's pain. How could she have been coward enough to even consider abandoning him? The depth of her shame made her body stiffen in Jourdain's grasp. Misinterpreting her response, Jourdain abruptly released her, chiding himself for being so forward with one of his sub- officers, especially one who was also a beautiful woman. He was a middle-aged soldier who had already buried one wife. What could a woman of such strength and grace see in an oaf like him? He was a fool to even be thinking about her that way. Pushing his way past her, he kneeled down in the mud beside Reinald. Aware only of the man laying senseless in her arms, Scully was close to panicking. "Snap out of it, Mulder!" she yelled at him, hoping to force a response, but he lay still and silent in her lap. Smoothing the wet bangs back off his forehead, she checked his pulse, relieved to feel it racing under her fingertips. Then she pulled back an eyelid, only to find his pupil dilated and unresponsive. "Dammit, Mulder, answer me," she cried, clutching him against her as her mind searched for a way to help him. A fierce hatred for the Realm and its total lack of modern medical facilities flowed through her. Herbs may be good for healing a fever, or psychic influence good for knitting a bone, but those were no consolation now. Blinded by a flood of tears, she brushed at her offending eyes with the back of her arm, smearing streaks of brown sludge across her face. A strong hand took hold of her arm, and she shoved it away without looking up. "Scully," a deep-throated male voice insisted. "Let us help." Scully glared up at Jourdain, biting off the angry words when she saw the very real concern in his eyes. "We need to get him somewhere warm" she said, forcing the words out through a veil of grief and fury. "Better send someone for Corvay." "I'll go!" Aldara offered, turning on her heels and racing for the castle even as she spoke. Finding the elven healer was something she could do and while it was not much in the way of making amends for her uncharitable - and cowardly - thoughts, it was at least a start. Scully didn't want to let go of Mulder, even for the few minutes it would take to carry him into the castle, but she knew they had to get him out of the cold mud and into a warm bed, especially if he was in shock. Reluctantly releasing her partner into the two men's hands, she struggled to her feet. Jourdain slipped his hands under Mulder's shoulders and lifted him up into his arms, even as Reinald cast a simple levitation spell. Together, Scully, Reinald and Jourdain guided the floating body across the grounds and into the castle. - - - - - Corvay and Aldara caught up with them as they entered Mulder and Scully's bedroom. Heedless of the effect of the mud on the satin coverlet, Reinald and Jourdain slowly lowered Mulder onto the bed. Yanking out the platform with a muttered curse as it stuck for a brief second then finally came loose, Scully clambered up onto the bed, squatting down beside Mulder. Corvay was only seconds behind her. Sitting down next to her, he reached out to touch the unconscious man's forehead. Closing his eyes, the Healer tried to push through the curtain of darkness to reach Mulder's mind, but he was thwarted again and again. Each time he began to make contact, he was forced out by a dark web of fibers which stung at his mind. Finally Corvay pulled back, grimacing. "I can't get through," he said, his voice tight with frustration and sadness. "It's like there's something in there blocking me. Every time I get close, I'm pushed out. I'm not sure if it's him, or something else." "What do you mean you can't get in? You HAVE to!" Scully cried, her eyes flashing fire as she glared at Corvay. "I'm blocked out," Corvay repeated, eyeing her with saddened empathy. "Unless he can find his own way out, I'm not sure there's anything we can do." "There may not be anything WE can do," Reinald interjected from the foot of the bed. "But I think there's something YOU can do, Scully." She spun around to face the white-haired mage, hope warring with panic. "What?" she demanded. "You may be able to reach him in a way no one else can. Through the life-bond." "The what?" she questioned hurriedly, wishing he'd stop wasting precious time with his magical mumbo-jumbo. "Just tell me what to DO!" Reinald sighed. Why did it not surprise him that Mulder had not told Scully about the life-bond? "Just reach out to him with your mind. Focus on your feelings for him, how much you love him, need him. Demand that he respond to you." It certainly wasn't hard to focus on her feelings for the usually frustrating, always challenging man she'd come to respect and trust more than any other living human being. A small voice inside her whispered 'respect?' 'Trust?' Isn't 'Love' closer to the truth? She shut it down fiercely, reaching out to take Mulder's hand between both of hers. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember everything Corvay had taught her about contacting the minds of their patients. Taking a series of deep breaths, she struggled to find her center, her need to help Mulder warring with the almost overwhelming tide of emotions raging through her. Finally forcing herself into an unsteady sense of calm, she decided it would have to be enough. Using a part of her mind she still did not understand, she stretched out her awareness, sending a stream of herself up through her hands, through the contact of her skin with Mulder's, up and up, towards the center of his awareness. A sharp gasp of pain whistled through her tightly clamped lips as she hit a heavy black barrier. Each probe at it sent a series of painful shocks rippling back down the connection, making her body shudder. But she had no intention of giving up. Gathering up her strength, she pulled back, drew and held a lungful of air, and pushed with all her might. Not realizing she screamed it aloud, she heard her inner voice cry out his name as she finally shattered the barrier and fused her mind with his. Suddenly, she was caught up in a whirlwind of nightmarish sights and sounds. Fire burned at her/his senses, causing her/him to cry out in pain. Creatures more terrifying than their worst nightmare crowded in on them, tearing at them, ripping their flesh apart. A stench so horrible it made their stomachs convulse filled their nostrils, a whining screech like a thousand nails scraping a blackboard assaulted their ears. Their minds connected into one entity, he/she plummeted through a vortex of gale-force winds, tumbling down into deep black nothingness. "Nnnooo!" she/he screamed. "Mulder/Dana!" his/her voice cried out. "Here...here...here," came the echo in response, each asking and replying in the same instant. "Lost...dying...no...fight..." each thought was bounced back and forth between the two halves of the whole, one's thoughts becoming the other's thoughts in the very moment the ideas were formed. Finally, moving in total unison, the joint consciousness struggled to find its way out of the darkness, each person's determination feeding off the other's until only one thought dominated the mind: to find the light again. It seemed to take an eternity, the darkness pressing in on them, shoving them down into the mouth of a monster, taking back an inch for every two gained. But finally, in one last desperate thrust, they burst back out through the dark curtain and into the light of day. Their minds twining around each other for a final precious moment, they shattered apart. As an edge of light filtered through screwed tight eyelids, Scully gulped for breath, feeling her lungs ache in protest. Below her, Mulder let out a choking gasp, his body jerking like it had been hit with an electric shock. Corvay caught the exhausted woman just as she began to wobble, and ever so gently placed her down by Mulder's side. Together, hands still clasped tightly together, they slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep. - - - - - Reinald stirred in the chair, and forced himself to take another swallow of the lukewarm tea. Jourdain was stretched out in the other chair, staring deep into the fire, his craggy features set and cold. The weary magician stretched and stood up to take another glance at the man and woman still sound asleep on the bed. No change, which was perhaps for the best. They would have all too much to face the next morning. At least Reinald had finally been able to dispel the remainder of the Destroyer's enchantment which had buried its way into Mulder's mind along with Bradnor's dying soul. Once that tangled skein of evil had been cleared away, Corvay had been able to reach into both Mulder and Scully's minds, settling them into a healthy healing trance. Hopefully, they would awaken in a few hours, minds recovered, at least partially, from the battle they had just barely won. "Do you think that this is wise?" Jourdain's throaty whisper startled Reinald, causing a few drops of tea to spill out onto his wrist as his hand jolted abruptly. Reinald turned and went back to his chair, placing the cup on the table and rubbing the splattered liquid into his already dirt-stained robe. "No, it probably isn't wise. But I don't think we have any choice. The Time is upon us, my old friend, and like it or not, the prophecy will out." "How do you know you won't be sending them to an early grave?" Jourdain countered, always skeptical of religious mutterings, even one as ancient - and increasingly fulfilled - as the old prophecy. "They can hardly help us save the Realm if they get killed by a couple lousy Destroyers." "I know." Reinald closed his eyes in anguish. "I'd Gate there myself, but I've never been to Wide River and we don't have a living mage on the other end to help create the Gate. I just can't afford to leave the Prince for the amount of time it will take to ride there by horseback. Besides, it's not much safer for Mulder and Scully here, and they need the chance to use their skills, or the training is meaningless. Bottom line - the people out there need help. Now." Jourdain nodded, he couldn't argue with that. But it still felt like they were sending a pair of children into battle. For all of the foreign couple's strengths, they seemed almost innately innocent at times. Perhaps that was just a factor of their unfamiliarity with this world, but he couldn't help being bothered by it. Nonetheless, Reinald had a point. The way things were going, there soon wouldn't be a safe place for anyone. Though most people would have been unable to see anything other than the carefully-schooled calm on the soldier's rugged features, Reinald knew his friend well enough to read the conflict in his eyes. "They may actually be safer out there than here in the castle," he added, hoping to further convince the doubtful Captain to accept this decision. "There's something wrong here. I can't bring it into focus, but I have a sense of something about to happen here, something evil focused on Mulder and Scully. We both know that rumors are flying around the council about those two and the prophecy. Everyone is terrified and uncertain - fertile ground for our enemies to strike from within. I'm afraid there may be an attempt on their lives." "Gods' blood!" Jourdain swore vividly, rising to his feet in a surprisingly graceful motion for a man of his large size. "I wish that surprised me more than it does." He shook his head in disgust as he walked over to peer down at the sleeping couple. He stood in silence for a moment, watching them intently, his mind in turmoil. But despite his misgivings, the truth of the mage's words was clear. With a sinking feeling in his heart, Jourdain turned back towards the seated mage, his face drawn, but resigned. "All right. We leave at dawn." ----------------- Mulder watched Scully as she tightened the girth in her saddle. She was dressed in a green leather tunic and brown leggings, her small feet encased in knee-high leather boots of the same forest green as her tunic. Her hair, which had grown a few inches over the past several weeks was braided and coiled into a fiery knot on the crown of her head. Her sword hung down the length of her back, its strap stretched tight between her breasts. She looked calm and confident, almost as though she were preparing to investigate a crime back home. Trade the tunic for a dark blue suitcoat, the sword for a gun, and she could have been back in the office. The problem was that they weren't at home. Heaven only knew what would be facing them at the end of the long two- day ride to the East. From what little Mulder remembered from his mind-link with Bradnor, this could be far worse than anything they had faced before. He wished there was a way to keep her from going, but he also knew better than to even suggest the idea to her. She'd be furious, and selfish though it seemed to him, he needed her - wanted her - by his side. Quite simply, there was no one in this, or any universe, whom he trusted to watch his back the way he trusted Scully. "Almost ready, Scully?" he forced himself to ask calmly, as though they were about to take a walk in the park. At the sound of his voice, she turned to look up at him. He was dressed in a dark brown version of the ever-present tunic, over a white shirt, black leggings, and black leather boots. His sword was dangling precipitously from his left hand, its leather guard scraping the dusty floor. His eyes were bright with excitement, and a very familiar concern. She knew full well he was worried about bringing her into this, but was grateful he had enough respect for her to leave it unspoken. "Yes," she answered. "Just need to finish packing my saddlebags. Better not let Aldara catch you treating that with such disrespect," she pointed at the wayward weapon. Mulder sighed and nodded, lifting it up to slide the strap over his shoulder. "It feels funny on my back, I can't help thinking that I'm going to stab myself in the butt." Scully laughed, reaching out to readjust the strap against his chest. "It won't if you wear it in the right position," she chided with a grin. - - - - - Partially hidden by the supply horse he was loading on the other side of the barn, Grejor watched them with a sullen, bitter expression. His angry eyes focused on Scully's smiling face, he piled one too many bag on top of the horse, and the small bundle toppled off the other side of the restless animal. With an exaggerated sigh, the unhappy apprentice walked around the horse to pick it, only to find Drellor handing it out to him with a friendly smile. "Hello Mage-Apprentice Grejor," the roly-poly councilor said, "You must be sorry to see them go. I'm sure you learned a lot from the foreign mage." "Yeah, sure," Grejor replied unconvincingly, grabbing the bundle from Drellor and turning to try again to load it on the horse's back. "Well, at least you'll be able to get back to your studies. You must be close to earning your Mage's blue by now." Grejor chatted easily, his eyes carefully reading every nuance of the young man's expression. "Sure, soon enough." Grejor's voice was shakily optimistic, but the set line of his mouth belied the relaxed tone. "Reinald has just been a little busy lately." "Why, of course!" Drellor responded as though he had just made an important discovery. "What with the sudden visit by his foreign friends, and his responsibilities as Regent, he must be quite busy." He shook his head, the rolls of fat under his chin wiggling. "It must be hard for you to compete with the young Prince for Reinald's time. It's too bad for you, though. You'd think he'd plan more carefully to give you the time you need. It is his responsibility." Grejor peered at Drellor suspiciously, but was met only with warm concern. Suddenly all the resentment and jealousy that had been slowly building in him burst out. He poured it all out, how Reinald had completely forgotten him in favor of Mulder, relegating Grejor to fetching and carrying. How Mulder and Scully were 'together' yet he was expected to spend his life alone studying. How his chance at earning the mage's blue had been postponed, perhaps by months, while Reinald trained a fool like Mulder who hadn't even known how to build his own shield; how Reinald would spend hours with the Prince, but had no time for his own apprentice; how... Throughout the young man's tirade, Drellor kept bobbing his head in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. The only evidence of his delight was the sparkle in small round eyes. Behind the paternal exterior, his clever mind was racing, examining every possible use of this situation. If he played his cards just right, the resentful student-mage could prove to be very useful to his plans. Very useful, indeed. - - - - - Finally packed and as fully prepared as they felt they would ever be, Mulder and Scully led their horses out of the barn to join Jourdain, Aldara and the remainder of the small company. Grejor led the two pack horses after them, surrendering the burdened animals over to one of the heavily-armed soldiers. Tarnor was already astride his smaller pony, its long white tail and mane waving in the breeze. Mulder winced slightly at the sight of his welcoming grin. As much as he liked and trusted the little gargoyle, those sharp, jagged teeth caused an instinctive recoil from the taller human. "Ready to go?" Jourdain walked over beside them, giving them a quick once over. They appeared to be prepared, though Mulder's sword was still a bit cockeyed, and Scully looked tiny and frail next to large horse. But their faces were calm and serious, their stances tense and controlled. "Yes," Mulder and Scully both nodded. "Good." Jourdain replied, angling around to give his soldiers a quick hand signal indicating they should mount their horses. Then he looked back at the two foreigners. "Aldara will be leading," he instructed. "She knows the area better than anyone. I'll be in the rear. Scully, you stay close to Aldara, and Mulder, you'd better stay in the middle with Tarnor. It's nearly a full days ride to Horse's Run Inn. We'll stop briefly at noon to eat, spend the night at the Inn, then it should be close to another day's ride to Wide River." Jourdain gave them one more look- over, then grimaced. No use putting this off any longer. "Let's go." He returned to his horse, taking the reins from Aldara, then leaped into the saddle in one fluid, practiced motion. Mulder gave Scully a hand up into her saddle, then started to clamber up into his. "Wait, Mulder!" Reinald came running up behind them, his long blue robe flying out behind him, white hair nearly standing on end. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come see us off," Mulder said with a teasing lilt in his voice. Reinald smiled as he came up beside the tall dark man. "I almost forgot something important," he replied holding out a large dark-blue bundle of cloth to Mulder. "You better wear this." "What is it?" Mulder questioned, taking the woolen garment and spreading it out over his arms. "A mage-robe like mine. Actually, you should have been wearing one already, but since you were in training, and everyone in the castle knew you were a foreigner, I thought you could manage without one. However, beyond the Fairwood grounds you should wear this at all times. It is both a symbol and a warning, a mark of both authority and responsibility. The white lining signifies your allegiance to the light, the depth of the blue the strength of your power." Reinald sighed unhappily. "Normally, the robe is conferred with an elaborate ceremony. I do not like having to just hand it to you like this, but we do not have the time to spare." "That's okay," Mulder replied, shrugging his shoulders. The cloak felt warm and soft against the skin of hands. "I never cared much for ceremonies." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It'll make a great blanket if we get stuck on the road." "Mulder!" Reinald protested, then shook his head. No use arguing with his protégé's irreverent humor. He knew just how serious Mulder could be when he felt the situation warranted it, so let him enjoy himself now. There were likely to be few reasons for mirth in the upcoming days. Several of the other observers weren't quite so accepting, their expression ranging from Aldara's look of surprise to Grejor's sullen resentment. Scully just sighed, Mulder had a gift for being annoyingly disrespectful of protocol, no matter where or when. "Put it on, Mulder. We need to get going," Scully urged, impatient to get on the road, already dreading the long ride ahead. "Okay." Mulder yanked the sword off his shoulders, handing it out to Reinald. He arranged the cloak over his shoulders, then fumbled for a way to fasten it. "Here," Reinald said, giving Mulder back his weapon and reaching up to find a small button on the inside of the collar. After Reinald had finished adjusting the cloak, Mulder put the sword back on over, with a silent grimace for Scully, then turned to contemplate getting on the horse, cloak, sword and all. "This looks so much easier in the movies," he grumbled. The only one who could make sense of the reference, Scully laughed. "You're the magician. Levitate yourself." Mulder flashed her a brilliant smile, as he accepted the light challenge in her voice. "All right." Closing his eyes, he concentrated for a moment, his brow crinkling into a familiar set of lines. Ever so slowly, he rose up into the air, then turned sideways and settled himself smoothly down into the saddle. He would have completed the levitation perfectly, if he hadn't misjudged the reaction of the horse to having someone float in the air above it. Snorting, it pulled to the side just enough to have Mulder hit its back at angle, sliding off to his left. Yelling his annoyance, Mulder grabbed for the horse's mane and only barely kept himself from tumbling to the ground. The horse reared up, then down, as its would-be rider clung on for dear life. Finally managing to pull himself into an upright position, Mulder glared at Scully, as everyone else tried to stifle their laughter. "Good try, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Yeah right. Next time I'll levitate you!" he threatened, still trying to adjust himself into a comfortable position. "No thanks" she replied with a sweet smile, nudging her horse forward to pull up beside Aldara. Mulder playfully stuck out his tongue at her back, then couldn't help relaxing into a grin and joining in the general amusement, even if it was at his expense. As Jourdain gave the signal to go, Reinald grabbed onto Mulder's leg. Mulder leaned down to hear the mage's whispered words. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to prepare you for this. Remember to center and watch your shield." Reinald's blue eyes clouded with worry. "And be careful!" Mulder's eyes darkened as he nodded. "I will." - - - - - It was a perfect day for a ride, Scully had to admit as she guided her horse in an easy trot beside Aldara. Only a few whisps of white cotton floated in a perfect blue sky. The air was warm with a slight cooling breeze, and the road was lined with the vivid colors of the forest: the green and brown of the trees and the bright rainbow colors of the flowers. She drew in a deep breath of clear, untainted air and smiled with pleasure. Aldara caught her companion's smile and returned it briefly. Then her face settled into a frown. "What is it?" Scully asked concerned. Aldara considered for a moment, then angled her head back toward Mulder who was chatting easily with Tarnor and one of the soldiers, the velvet warmth of his laugh echoing in the air. "I don't understand him. He doesn't act like a Mage, he doesn't act like anyone I've ever met." Her emerald eyes were wide with confusion. Scully couldn't help laughing, which only increased Aldara's perplexity. "I'm sorry, Aldara," Scully said. "It's just that Mulder..." she turned her head to glance back at her partner. "Mulder never acts like anyone else. He's utterly and completely unique. I know him better than anyone, and he still manages to surprise me." The taciturn half-elf considered that for moment, then grinned at her friend. "That must make for an interesting life." "Yeah," Scully responded, "Sometimes a little too interesting." They shared a look of total understanding, then focused back on the road ahead, riding comfortably side-by-side. - - - - - By the time they rode into the Inn courtyard, everyone was exhausted, dusty and hungry. Mulder and Scully were both uncomfortably aware that a couple of hours a day of riding practice had not fully prepared them for the rigors of spending an entire day in the saddle. Scully's back and legs ached intensely, every position she'd tried in the last couple of hours as painful as the others. Mulder was equally sore, the muscles in his thighs complaining fiercely. He was dreading trying to get down and walk. Aldara caught both their looks of discomfort and shared an amused glance with Jourdain. Good thing she'd brought some lotion with her, those two were going to need it. The clatter of the horse's hooves on the gravel brought a couple of young boys, both with shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes, and elven pointed ears. Excited, they ran forward to take the reins from Aldara and Scully, leading the horses into the nearby stable. Mulder gratefully handed over his horse to the young soldier he'd been talking with on their ride and wandered over to the women, grunting as he rubbed at his sore back. Jourdain let his four men take the rest of the horses into the barn and headed for the inn. He was met at the doorway by the innkeeper, a larger version of the boys: short but well- muscled. The older elf was dressed in a bright mix of colors, bright red pants under a red, green, blue, and yellow vest and a white shirt. Around his belly he wore a big leather belt with a large set of keys and two big pouches hanging down his side. Forced to peer up at the much taller Jourdain, the elf eyed him with a mixture of greed and suspicion. Soldiers and mercenaries were good-spenders, but they also tended to be trouble. "What can we do for you this fine evening?" the innkeeper asked politely. "We'll need food, and rooms for the night. And fodder for the horses." Jourdain thought for a moment. The four guards could bunk together, as would Mulder and Scully. He and Tarnor could share a room, which left Aldara ... well, better make that four rooms total. "Four rooms. And baths for the ladies." The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly as he did some rapid math in his head. "Twelve silvers, and six iron pieces," he said, his eyes glinting with avarice. Jourdain frowned, bargaining was not one of his favorite past-times, but even he knew that he was being royally over- charged. "Six silvers and three iron pieces," he replied, deciding to begin by slicing the price in half. The innkeeper puffed up angrily. "You insult me, sir! Why one of our rooms is worth more than that per night. And this is a busy time of the year. I was giving you a good deal, because things are quiet right now. And you repay my courtesy by trying to cheat me! No, I will not take one less than ten silvers and five irons." Jourdain shook his head. "Eight silvers and four irons. Not a bit more." "You are nothing but a highway robber!" responded the innkeeper. "How am I supposed to feed my family when you cheat me like this. My poor children..." The innkeeper went off in a tirade, hands flying a series of elaborate gestures, while an annoyed Jourdain stood impatiently, tapping his right foot against the step. Across the lawn, Aldara couldn't help giggling at the irritated frown on the Captain's face. "What's going on?" Scully asked, rubbing her hands through her hair, pasting it back into a semblance of the neat braid she had started out with that morning. "Jourdain hates to bargain." Aldara shook her head, the cloud of black hair framing her face waving down her back with the motion. "Guess someone better go help. He'll either give in and pay too much, or lose his temper and hit the innkeeper." "That wouldn't be good," Scully replied wearily. "Right now, though, I'd give about anything for a bath." Mulder nodded. "Yeah, me too. There ought to be a way to speed this up." He glanced back towards the inn, his head tilting slightly to the side. 'Uh oh.,' Sculy thought, as Mulder glanced at her with a familiar glint in his hazel eyes. Brushing more of the dust off his robe, he headed purposefully towards the men arguing in front of the inn doors. Thinking he was just following her suggestion, Aldara stepped in behind him, turning her head in surprise as Scully caught her elbow. "What?" "I don't know," the red-haired woman grimaced and gestured towards the man striding across the yard. "He's up to something. I know that look in his eyes." "Up to what?" Aldara asked with concern. Scully shrugged. "Just be prepared." Jourdain was about ready to punch the innkeeper, when an imperious voice sounded from the bottom of the steps. "Is there a problem, Captain?" Jourdain turned, his eyes dilating with astonishment. Standing at the foot of the steps, Mulder was looking up at them, his face calm and expectant. Despite the dust of travel, and the inevitably-crooked sword, he appeared every inch the powerful Mage. His eyes were dark and hooded, his finely-drawn features carved in stone. The dark blue of his mage-robe seemed to shimmer in the evening air. Sliding up the stairs as though his feet were almost floating, he paused beside Jourdain and looked down at the innkeeper. "I assume you have rooms available for my friends and myself." "Uhh, yes..." The innkeeper stammered, his already pale skin turning white. "We were just deciding on the price, honorable Magician." Jourdain held his smile, saying calmly, "I believe we were just settling on six silvers and five irons as a fair price." The trembling elf automatically opened his mouth to argue, then shut it when he saw blue sparks fly from the tall mage's fingers as he absentmindedly brushed his hand though his dark hair. "Yes, yes, six and five it is. Come, come," the small elf confirmed, backing away nervously towards the door. Throwing one more unhappy glance over his shoulder at Mulder, who gave him another commanding stare, he hurried inside, calling out a rapid series of instructions. Still outside, Mulder and Jourdain exchanged looks of amusement. "Thank you," Jourdain said as he reached for the door. "Elves have refined the process of bargaining to a fine art, and not even they can compete with innkeepers. Combine the two and...well, normally you end up wasting a good candlemark or two arguing price, and if you give in too soon, they get huffy and annoyed." Waving Mulder into the inn ahead of him, Jourdain added. "Maybe I should bring a Mage along more often." Mulder grinned, then reassuming his professional composure, he swept into the inn's darkened interior. Jourdain held the door for Scully and Aldara, who had both been listening to the conversation with increasing enjoyment, then followed them inside. The inn's central room reminded Mulder and Scully of an old-fashioned bar. One wall was lined by a long, low counter with rows of bottles on shelves behind it. Wooden, circular tables were spotted throughout the room. Some were set low to the floors, others were elevated with large wooden stools. In the corner a large stone fireplace provided most of the light, with small streams of the fading sunlight brushing the gloom below a few small windows. A tiny, but matronly elf wearing a bright yellow dress and striped red and green apron burst out from behind the counter. "Come in, come in," she urged in a friendly, high-pitched voice. Her eyes widened as she stared up at Mulder who towered over her in his still-glowing blue robe. She sank into a deep bow, then smiled hesitantly. "This way Sir Magician, this way. We have the best room in the house for you, just up the stairs. It has a nice window, and plenty of space. My boys will unload your horses and bring your things upstairs, while you rest from your long journey. Yina, my daughter, is already heating water for your bath." She bobbed her head again, glancing up at him with wide brown eyes. "Please, follow me." Exhausted, Mulder was more than willing to take her up on the offer. He held back long enough to let Scully and Aldara proceed him, then followed the women up the stairs. Their hostess was more than a little surprised when it became obvious that the small red-haired soldier was rooming with the mage, while the other two guards were taking other rooms. Mulder avoided her questions by giving her an intense stare. One look at his set, determined face, and she backed off, her hand crumpling the corner of her apron in distress. Making a magician unhappy could have dire consequences. Once the door was closed, Mulder crossed the room and settled down on the bed with a sigh. "God, Scully, what I wouldn't give for a car right now. Anything, even an ancient rusty Oldsmobile, just as long as it ran on wheels and not four legs." Scully flopped down on the bed next to him, rubbing at the small of her back. "Yeah, me too. FBI training didn't include spending ten hours straight on top of a horse. Wake me in about a week." Mulder grinned and leaned over, propping his head on one hand. "Sure. That means I get the first bath." Scully's eyes popped wide open. "Oh no it doesn't." Groaning slightly, she forced herself into a sitting position. "Ladies first!" He opened his mouth, about to give her the nearly irresistible reply, but one look at her pale, drawn face convinced him that silence was the better part of valor. He settled for leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes, and dreaming about a nice, shiny Ford truck with air-conditioning and four wheel drive. - - - - - ----------------- After a short nap and a bath, everyone was feeling better. Dinner was surprisingly good, a hearty stew with sweet brown bread and a thick foamy ale. Jourdain, Aldara, Scully and Mulder were sitting at one round table, the four guards seated around a neighboring one. Tarnor had accepted a platter of raw meat and bread from one of the waitresses and retired upstairs. Thinking that she would very soon follow the gargoyle's example, Scully sipped at the ale gingerly, while Mulder eyed it appreciatively, then chugged down half the contents of his mug. "Better watch it, Mulder," Scully said, her lips curving up as she watched him lick at the foam on his upper lip. "Tomorrow is going to bad enough without a hangover." "One glass of beer is hardly going to make me drunk," he protested with a grin. "How do know it's 'beer?'" Scully asked. "We have no idea what the alcohol content it, or even whether it is alcoholic." "No, it's got alcohol, or something nearly as good." Mulder smiled as the warmth spread outward from his stomach, easing some of the remaining pain in his lower back. Aldara's magic lotion had been a godsend, but nothing beat a cold glass of beer. "Obviously," Scully replied, arching an eyebrow at him in censure, though her blue eyes twinkled. "Still," Jourdain interrupted between mouthfuls. "Better take it easy on that stuff. We ride at dawn, and I expect you two to be ready to go on time." Mulder and Scully both grimaced, but nodded. Even over a relaxing dinner, it was not easy to forget the seriousness of their mission. "When do you think we'll get to Wide River?" Mulder asked Aldara, breaking off another piece of bread. "If we get on the road at sunrise," she replied. "We should get there by mid afternoon if all goes well." They sat in silence for a moment, each considering what the might have to face the next day. At a table closer to the door a small group of traveling mercenaries were busily getting drunk. All five men were dressed in dirty green wool and leather outfits, swords slung over their shoulder or propped against their stools. Several had knives through their black rawhide belts. All had long hair, bound back into tight ponytails on the tops of their heads, and several sported jagged scars across their faces, arms, and necks. As the waitress passed by, one of the men, with a white-lined scar across his right cheek, grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap. "Let me go," she cried angrily, jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow and leaping away nimbly. He gasped for breath as his compatriots roared with laughter, jeering at him. Once he had recovered his breath, he sat for a few minutes, eyeing the pretty blond elf in her yellow and brown dress as she wended her way over to Mulder and Scully's table with a pitcher of ale. A few more drinks down his throat combined with some rude comments from the other men, and he was at a fever pitch of anger and desire. The next time she passed by, he leapt up to seize her from behind, pulling both her wrists behind her and shoving her face down on the table. Immediately, his friends started banging their ale glasses on the table, cheering him on with raucous laughter. She screamed and wiggled, trying to kick him, but he was twice as big as she was. Her scream died out into a muffled moan of disgust as he yanked her head back by her long hair, kissing her hard as he rubbed his body over hers. "Take your hands off her," the innkeeper raced over to his daughter's defense. "Back off," the scarred mercenary growled, knocking the elf down with one hard punch. One of the other men yelled out, "Hey Vidar, hurry up. My turn next." That was the final straw as far as Mulder was concerned. Unwilling to leave things to Jourdain and his men, who had already started across the room, Mulder pushed his way past them and seized the would-be rapist by the arm, yanking him backwards. The big mercenary responding by tossing the girl towards one of his friends, who caught and held her struggling body gleefully. Then he pulled his arm out of Mulder's grasp and swung at him. Mulder was faster though, ducking underneath, then spinning to kick the large man in the gut. He staggered against the table, then with a berserk roar of anger, threw himself onto his taller, but far more slender, adversary. As Mulder and the enraged mercenary fought, Jourdain pulled the screaming waitress away from the man pawing her, and pushed her away. She ran crying for the kitchen. Robbed of his prey, the second mercenary jumped on Jourdain, and pandemonium broke loose. Aldara and Scully managed to get the innkeeper out of the way, before leaping into the fight themselves. Aldara nearly took one mercenary's head off with her sword before catching herself and rendering him unconscious with the heavy hilt, while Scully jumped on another's back, clawing at his eyes. He bellowed and spun, finally throwing his smaller attacker up into the air. Twisting as she flew, she managed to bring her feet underneath her to land in a crouch on top of a table. Her red-hair flying around her face, her blue eyes were blazing as she pulled a knife out of her boot and brandished it at the mercenary who approached her with a growing smile on his rough face. "Now, now, pretty wrench. How about you put down the knife so we can have us some fun!" he urged, reaching out towards her. Scully simply stared at him, waiting until he got just close enough, then she struck. "Oowww!" he cried as she sliced his cheek with the knife, then leapt out of the way of his hand. With dawning respect, he faced her, pulling out a knife of his own. Behind them, Mulder was still rolling on the floor, struggling with his bulkier opponent. The two men hit at each other's vulnerable areas with knees and gouging hands. Finally delivering a punch into the mercenary's throat that knocked him briefly senseless, Mulder was finally able to scramble to his feet. One quick glance around at the war being fought across the room convinced him that he'd better stop this before someone got killed. While it was still more instinctive to react physically than magically, Mulder hadn't been studying for so long without learning a few useful spells. Centering and grounding almost by rote, he tuned down his shield and began to focus on creating a spell that would freeze the combatants in place, stopping any further violence in its tracks. However, Mulder was still slow in utilizing his new talents, and before he could finish the spell, the mercenary got up to his feet and struck Mulder hard in the stomach. The inexperienced mage yelled in pain, his unfinished spell exploding in a loud thunderclap around him, sending the mercenary spinning upwards to float in mid-air, his body enclosed in a deep blue cloud. Instant frozen silence descended upon the room, as Mulder stared upwards in shock at the terrified man writhing inside the blue envelope above his head. Quick to take advantage of the situation, Jourdain shoved his wide-mouthed adversary aside and strode over to Mulder's side. "My gratitude to you, Magician, for your timely assistance," he said in a ringing voice. "My deepest apologies for subjecting you to this kind of uncouth brawl. If you wish to retire at this point, Mage Mulder, I'm sure my guards and I can take it from here. These men have had enough for tonight, isn't that so?" He looked pointedly from the one still suspended in mid-air to the others. Shaken, they all nodded, suddenly noticing the color of Mulder's robe for the first time. One swallowed nervously, seemingly shrinking into the floor. Another turned deathly pale and fell to his knees to vomit between his legs. At a glance from Jourdain, his men grabbed the four still earth-bound mercenaries and propelled them up the stairs to their room. Scully and Aldara breathed a sigh of relief, checking to see if each other was all right, then walked over to stand beside Jourdain and Mulder. "Get him down, Mulder. We should probably call it a night," Scully suggested wearily, returning the knife to her boot, extremely grateful that she'd bothered to wear it as Aldara had recommended. "I can't," Mulder replied unhappily. Three shocked pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. "What do you mean, you can't?" Jourdain questioned. "I didn't mean to do this. I was just going to blast the ceiling with a few fireworks to catch people's attention - stop the fighting. But he hit me before I could finish the spell, and it just exploded. I don't know what happened and I haven't the faintest idea how to reverse it." Mulder shook his head sadly, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I think it ought to wear off in a few hours, but I'm not sure." "Mulder! Didn't Reinald teach you how to turn that stuff off?" Scully protested. "Sure," he replied, "but the method of undoing a spell is directly related to the spell itself, and this one got scrambled. Trying to undo it the wrong way could just make it worse." Scully looked annoyed for a moment, then the corners of her mouth uplifted in a smile. Aldara frowned at her, then up at the man floating above their heads, and then found herself smiling also. "Well, I guess he'll just have to sleep it off," she said. They all started to laugh. - - - - - Another long day on horseback, this one spent mostly in grim silence. The closer they got to their destination, the more they dreaded what they were going to find. But not even their worst imaginings could have prepared them for the devastation that awaited them. Aldara led them in single file up the road to Wide River. Even before they drew into sight of the town itself, they could see smoke wavering up towards the late afternoon sun. The air carried a stench that built in their quivering nostrils until it was nearly unbearable. It was a combination of rotting flesh, burnt meat, and something unidentifiably evil. Mulder rubbed at his nose, thinking that even the New Jersey sewers hadn't smelled this bad. They came across the first set of bodies - or what remained of the bodies - as they turned a curve in the road and saw the shattered town gates a short distance ahead. Coming to an abrupt halt, Scully slid down off her horse to kneel down beside one twitching body. The man's face was a wreck, one arm had been torn off, his legs were ripped to shreds. Large bite had been taking from his chest and abdomen, and his intestines boiled out of his belly, with crawling flies buzzing into the cavity. As Scully bent down over him, he twitched again, his mouth opening in a silent cry. "Oh my God!" she yelled back at the others crowding behind her, all color leached out of her face. "He's still alive!" A shout from one of the guards indicated that another ravaged man was still alive also. Mulder and Jourdain exchanged agonized glances, then turned to Scully. "Is there anything you can do for them?" Jourdain asked. "I..." Scully felt tears sting her eyes as she contemplated injuries that even a modern hospital would be hard put to deal with. She shook her head, even with surgical facilities, antibiotics, and a team of doctors, she doubted this man could be saved. The sound of the young guard vomiting into the ashy dust of the road not far away, confirmed that the other's injuries were probably as serious. "I doubt it. I don't have the skills, or the equipment. I don't think even Corvay could heal this." At the sound of her voice, the dying man found one last bit if strength and reached out to grasp her arm. She recoiled in shock, but was already being hit by his pain. Doubling over in excruciating agony she screamed and screamed. "Scully!" Mulder yelled, leaping to the ground to pull her away. Sobbing, she clung to him, burying her head against his shoulder. He held her for a long moment, until her shaking decreased. Tilting her head up to face him with gentle fingers under her chin, he didn't bother speaking, just let his eyes ask for him. "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay." She brushed the strands of auburn hair out of her eyes, then glanced back at the man in the dirt. "He...he wants me to kill him." Mulder nodded, still holding her tight against him. He brushed the top of her head with his mouth, then let her go and stood up. "I'll do it," he said grimly, his mouth set in thin line. "No!" Scully's eyes were moist but determined. "He asked me. I felt his pain, Mulder. I have to release him myself." "Scully," Mulder protested, but her face was darkly certain. "Are you sure?" he spoke softly. "Yes," she swallowed and met his dark eyes with a confidence she didn't feel. "I have to." "Okay," he replied accepting her right to make that decision. "Jourdain and I will check the others." The big captain tapped Mulder on the shoulder in agreement, then walked past them towards the gate. As he brushed past Aldara he angled his head towards Scully. "Look after her," he whispered. She nodded barely perceptibly, and went over to stand by Scully as the grieving doctor knelt down, tears now streaming openly down her whitened cheeks, and prepared to do the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her life. Jourdain and Mulder worked their way closer to the smoldering, broken town gates, examining one bloody, fractured corpse after another. To their bitter relief, only two others of the close to three dozen bodies were still alive. With gritted teeth, and fury in their eyes, they each chose a dying man. In silent agreement, the two men drew their swords and in one clean blow, severed both necks simultaneously. Scully used her mind rather than her sword to give the dying man the peace he deserved. Carefully, she reached into the base of his skull with her mind and severed the nerves one by one, so that he would feel no more pain from his body while she tightened a mental fist on the blood vessels bringing oxygen to the brain. She felt his relief as paralysis ended the agony, and his gratitude as he slipped into unconsciousness and death. She felt every sensation he did, until he was no longer there, leaving her bent sobbing over an empty shell that had once been a human being. Aldara reached out to hold her friend from behind, wrapping thin, strong arms surrounding her. Scully struggled to get free, then collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion, pain, frustration, sadness, and above all, a deep burning rage. Her eyes glowed with blue fire as she turned to glare into Aldara's sorrowful green eyes, while her voice was cold, clear and steady. "Someone is going to pay for this." - - - - - It took the small company nearly three hours to work their way methodically through the ravaged village. No structure had been left untouched, even stone walls were crushed or scorched. Bodies, or pieces of them, lay flung throughout; no more were found alive. In the marketplace, broken pieces of pottery lay side by side with crushed melons and severed arms, legs, and heads. Bread turned stale next to trails of human intestines, spilled stew mixed with gargoyle and elven blood. Working in grim silence, they gathered up every human, elf, gargoyle and troll remnant they could find, making four gory piles in the town center. Once they were certain they'd retrieved as much as they could, nine weary and horrified people gathered together to share their grief and rage; to give the dead some overdue respect. Jourdain stumbled through a short prayer, his voice rising and falling from an angry cry to a hoarse whisper. Aldara reached out to grasp his hand as he came to a stop in mid- sentence, unable to find the words to continue. She pulled him back, then glanced over towards Mulder. "Give them a funeral pyre the entire Realm will see and remember, Mage," she said, each word clipped and precise. Mulder stepped forward, waving the others back. Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate, mumbling sing-song words under his breath. As his body began to glow a brilliant shimmering blue, he raised his hands and pointed. Flashes of lightning struck out of a clear blue sky, each striking one of the mounds causing them to burst into flames. Blue sparks lanced out of Mulder's outstretched fingers, mingling with the white light from the sky and the red of the fires. Four rainbow columns rose vertically, illuminating the darkening sky. One more shouted command from Mulder's glowing form and the flames exploded upwards, forcing the observers to shield their eyes. Another series of thunderclap-like explosions deafened their ears followed by sudden silence. Scully and the others slowly unshielded their eyes to find four perfect blackened circles of ground where there the bloody piles of flesh had been - and Mulder kneeling between them, his head buried in his arms. - - - - - Fox Mulder sat on a tree-stump a few feet away from the rest of the camp. Since no one had been able to stomach the idea of remaining in the village, even though there was no sign of the Destroyers, they had led the horses down the river into the woods. Walking in silence, they continued past nightfall, continued until the stench of Wide River was cleared from the air. The camp had been set in a small grove of elms, each member of the troop doing his part without uttering a word. Dinner had been prepared and forced down, all knowing the sustenance was necessary, each nearly choking on every bite. Two of the guards were keeping a nervous watch, while the others settled into small tents, pretending to sleep. Mulder hadn't even bothered with the attempt. Instead he had slipped off into the night like a shadow. "Mulder?" Scully came up quietly behind him, pressing a hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it away, moving swiftly to his feet and taking a couple steps away from her. "Mulder!" she said again, a very slight tremble in her voice. He was silent for one long moment, but just before she started to speak again, he pivoted to face her. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark cavities, the arching lines of his cheekbone stretched tight and hard, his jaw jutted forward. His voice was icy cold. "All this power, Scully." Lifting his hand he threw a sphere of blue light up into the air, which fragmented into a rain of glittering sparks at a wave of his arm. "Yet all I can do are parlor tricks." "Mulder, you can do more than parlor tricks. You know that!" She fought for the right words, not even certain what it was she wanted to say. "You were the one who took this seriously. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, that it was a daydream that I'd wake up from like it never happened. If things had gone my way, we wouldn't even be here. I don't know if we can help these people the way the Prophecy says, I only know that we have to try." She reached out to touch his arm, restraining him as he tried again to pull away. "How can such things exist Scully?," he spoke abruptly. "I thought I'd looked into the face of evil before: serial killers, vampires and werewolves, men who experiment on children... But this?" He laughed bitterly. "Yet, I can't help wondering why I am surprised. You know what my first thought was, Scully, when we walked through those gates? I felt like a WWII American soldier walking into a Nazi concentration camp. In an odd sort of way, things make more sense here: evil wears its own face. In our world evil sometimes wears a pleasant disguise." "Evil wears the same face everywhere, Mulder, sometimes you just have to look harder to see it. It feels hopeless right now, I know. But we've beaten it before, we just have to hold onto the belief that we can do so again." She knew she was driven more by rage than confidence, but the battle lines had been drawn. After what they'd seen that day, there was simply no walking away. "I wish I could be sure of that," he replied. "There are no assurances, but we still have to try." She closed the distance between them, and looked up into his shadowed eyes. "Together." "Scully...Dana..." he brushed the hair back from her face, caressing her cheek gently. "I'm here" she answered softly, closing her hand over his and pressing the palm against her lips. Their eyes met and clung, the world around them dissolving as he finally let the mental barriers down and drew her in. For a timeless instant they stood together, minds entwined, bodies separated by a few inches of cloth and air. Then, groaning aloud, he roughly pulled her up against him and claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Blood pounding through her veins, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck. He ground his lips into hers, she pressed upwards for more. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, she sucked on it, seizing hold with her teeth. Gasping for breath, he released her mouth, then assaulted her face and neck, kissing every inch of skin along her forehead, nose, cheekbones, jaw and throat. Twisting in his grasp, she returned kiss for kiss, licking the stubbled skin along his jaw, nibbling at the velvety skin of his cheek, biting at his lips as they brushed over hers. Her body was warm and vibrant in his arms, every curve an invitation. She sighed low and deep in her throat as he closed probing fingers over a breast, a hip, a thigh. Digging one hand into the hair on the back of his neck, she drew the other down the length of his spine, pressing it into the small of his back. Then curving it downwards to hold him still, she rotated her hips to grind her pelvis against his, sealing their bodies together. "Dana," he murmured her name over and over, in a silky, yet raspy voice, edged with desire. The sound of it in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, made her heart race even faster. Desire flooding her, she began to pull at his clothes, frustration mounting as she struggled with the still unfamiliar Realm-style fastenings. He moved to help her, dropping the mage-robe to the ground, then yanking the tunic off his head to cast it aside. The white cotton shirt he was wearing underneath was open to his navel, and she pressed her hands and her mouth against the bare flesh of his chest, touching and tasting the heated smoothness of his skin, rubbing her fingers through the hairs, tonguing his nipples until they hardened. He buried his face in the hair on the top of her head, deeply breathing in the smell of her, his hands working quickly to undo her belt and lift up her tunic. She lifted her mouth away from him to let him strip off her tunic and shirt in one swift move. Then she reciprocated, yanking his shirt out of his pants and over his head. He sank downwards until he was on his knees in front of her. Grasping her around the waist to pull her smooth abdomen up against his chin, he tilted his head upwards to let his eyes drink in the glorious sight of her. Her hair was loose, the doubled moonlight turning it into a soft red halo that swirled around her face. Even in the darkness, her eyes were a luminescent blue, her mouth a dream come true - full and red and trembling, her tongue teasing at her bottom lip. Her breasts were full and round, the tips already hardened by desire and contact with the cool night air. Sliding his hands up her back to close around her shoulders, he guided her downwards until she was perched on his bent knees, her own knees spread wide around his legs. In this position, her face was at an even level with his, and they savored the taste of each other, drinking in each other's mouths, one hungry kiss after another. Finally letting themselves free to touch and be touched, they explored every inch of each other's bodies with loving hands. Minds linked, each thought - each feeling - reverberated between them, allowing every desire to be satisfied the instant it was formed. Mulder pressed Dana down onto the forest floor, covering her with the heat of his body. She clutched him against her, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, as their mouths met and melded yet again. "Mmmmph," Scully muttered deep in her throat, suddenly pushing him upwards. "Dana, what?" he let go of her in surprise, a mix of frustration, desire, and sudden fear jolting through him, startling her. "No, no it's just a branch...in my back...," she flooded his mind with love and reassurance almost without conscious effort. Relaxing, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached beneath her to remove the offending twig while she twined her arms around his neck and arched her body up against his, leaving a space between her and the ground. Once he had tossed the branch aside, he leaned back up to a kneeling position, bringing her with him so that she was fully wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders. Holding her there for a moment, he paused and closed his eyes. Nestled against him, Dana felt a shiver go up her spine, like a series of static charges. Angling her head to look into his face, her question was communicated without a word. His answer was equally nonverbal, the thoughts flowing from mind to mind like a water rippling in a brook. Understanding what he was trying to do, she closed her eyes, feeling the magic energy build within him as it flickered across his skin, brushing hers with electric tingles. Mulder watched intently as his abandoned mage's cloak floated up in the air, spread itself out, then settled to the ground. Another rush of power charged though his mind, and hers, while the thin cloak doubled, tripled, expanded in thickness until it was like a soft blue mattress suspended just above the forest floor. With the release of a final bolt of power their coupled bodies began to rise into the air, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from Dana. Mulder tightened his grip around her, laughing with a rare unguarded joy. The beauty of that sound filled Dana's heart with happiness as he guided them down into the center of the overgrown cloak. She sighed with pleasure as her back hit the soft fabric, delighting in the pressure of his body on hers. In moments they were again lost in each other, stroking, touching, sharing, loving. The remaining clothes were discarded almost without thought, Mulder tossing the last boot aside as he buried his mouth in the center of her pleasure, breathing in the essence of her, even as her ecstasy flooded his senses, bringing his own desire to a fever pitch. Dana felt his burgeoning need mixed intrinsically with her own. Reaching down to gently drag him up across her body, she urged him down into her, both nearly sobbing with relief as he filled her. She could feel her own moisture and heat as it cradled him, he could feel his own throbbing strength as it penetrated her. He fed her pleasure back to her, and she returned it to him, each sensation multiplying; their love and desire feeding upon each other until their minds shattered apart and reformed, joined and linked, becoming no longer two separate beings, but purely one. - - - - - Prince Andalor spurred his pony ahead, laughing into the wind as he outpaced his escort. Ignoring their pleas, he raced ahead, expertly guiding his pony into the trees. It wasn't as though he didn't know every inch of the estate like the back of his hand. He'd explored these woods many times; he knew every tree, every stone, every stream. This was his home, and he desperately needed some time alone to think. The weight of being heir to the Realm was sometimes frightening, especially to an eight year-old boy who had seen both his parents die. Sometimes he dreamed about their deaths, reliving every horrible moment in perfect detail. Much as he enjoyed his photographic memory, there were moments when was a more of a curse than a blessing. The foreign magician understood as no one else did, Andalor had seen the knowledge and pain flicker in his oddly-colored eyes. Actually, it was because of the two foreigners - the two Travellers - that he was busily ducking his guards and tutors. If the Travellers were here, it meant that the Time of the ancient Prophecy was finally at hand. Already, people were dying, suffering throughout the Realm, and Andalor knew deep down inside that things were only going to get worse. His tutors had tried to shield him, to pretend that things were all right, but Andalor was good at hearing things he wasn't supposed to. And while the others might lie smoothly, Reinald was a terrible liar. The mage would fidget terribly whenever he tried to keep something from the Prince - rub at his nose, bite on his bottom lip, mess with the hem of his robe. No, whatever they might say, Andalor knew the Time was at hand. The young Prince just wasn't sure what he should do about it. Once he was certain he had left his pursuers far behind, the fair-haired child slid down of his pony, and led the animal through the underbrush, heading unerringly for one of his favorite spots. Breaking through a thicket of pines, Andalor sighed with pleasure as he saw the small waterfall trickling down the edge of a small incline, a small pool formed at its base. Tying the pony to a nearby tree, he yanked off his boots as he ran, laughing as he waded into the water. He splashed around for a few moments, just enjoying the sense of freedom, before he decided to go back to shore and settle down to figure out a plan of action. Just as he was about to climb onto land, a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye and he stopped in mid-stride. "Hello?" he called out, glancing around him as his hand felt for the small dagger held in a loop of his belt. But before his fingers could close upon the hilt, there was a sudden flash of light from the forest. The bright blue beam struck the water, freezing it into solid form, turning ripples of liquid into carved flows of stone. A sharp cry of dismay barely escaped Andalor's lips as his body shimmered and glowed, slowly transmuting into a marbled statue: silent, motionless, and cold. ----------------- If there had been a morning in his life that Mulder had been happier, he couldn't remember it. Looking down at the sleeping form of his partner, he felt a fulfillment, a satisfaction and a happiness that he had never known. The hell they had shared yesterday had given way to paradise in the night. Clothed in darkness, sheltered by starlight, they had removed the last of the barriers between them. Their lovemaking had been both tender and fevered, measured and passionate. It was everything either of them had ever fantasized in lonely darkness or in cold light. To be sure, he still feared the negative aspects of the life- bond - now more than ever, with the danger that surrounded them. But he was starting to realize the immensity of the joy that same bond could bring. For the thousandth time in the past few hours, he wished that he could just go off somewhere with Dana, to be free to explore each other, to get to know each other better in this new way. The danger to the Realm precluded all possibility of that happening now. After what they had seen yesterday, everyone's personal agenda was going to have to wait until the fate of the Realm had been decided. My timing's always been lousy, Mulder thought. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," whispered Scully, looking up at him with laughter and love in her eyes. Even before her mind had fully formed the thought, he had dipped his head to claim her mouth, deepening the kiss as he tightened the arm that was around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. "Mulder, it's almost dawn," she murmured, moving her head a bit to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck and throat. "We should get dressed and get back to camp." "Yes, we really should," he breathed. "Just - not yet...." - - - - - "Aldara! Wake up!" Jourdain's urgent whisper carried into her tent and the warrior was awake in an instant. She poked her head through the tent flaps. "What is it?" she demanded, knowing that he would have a good reason for summoning her before first light. Or at least he'd better. "The Mage Mulder is missing, as is Scully. Their tent hasn't been slept in all night. The guards keeping watch said they entered the woods soon after everyone retired last night, and no one has seen them since. I'm getting worried. Anything could have happened. But I don't want to alarm the others, not until I'm sure I have to." "What's your plan?" "Come with me and help me search. Your eyes are sharper than mine, especially in the dark." She peered into his face. He did seem anxious. She knew Scully's capabilities and was inclined to think that the foreign woman was more than able to take care of herself in any eventuality. But she knew Jourdain was feeling responsible for the safety of the pair, and she respected that. She nodded. "All right. Which way did they go?" Quietly the two of them slid out of camp, choosing an overgrown track which followed the course of the river. Not daring to call out for fear of attracting unwanted attention, they relied on Aldara's sharp eyes and ears in their search. The only sounds she heard were Jourdain's mutterings, a combination of prayers and threats to the gods that Mulder and Scully would be found safely. It was perhaps because of those mutterings that she did not hear the pair for whom they were searching until they had almost blundered into them. Aldara, not surprisingly, spotted them first. "It would appear they are in little danger, Jourdain," she said dryly in her softest whisper. "In fact, they appear to be in a truly enviable state of health." Jourdain looked over the top of her head, and grunted softly. Taking her sleeve, he pulled her back up the path for a distance of some fifty yards, then sat. She settled down beside him. "I'm loathe to interrupt, but we may have to - we need to be on the road soon," he said. "I never thought - well, it's hard to remember that foreign mages may take a wife, may have a life-bond. I hope that didn't embarrass you, Aldara," he said, a little embarrassed himself. Noting the shake of her head, he continued, "Gods, I miss that." Realizing what he had just said, he turned to her, eyes wide, stumbling in his effort to explain himself. "Nay, nay, not THAT! Well, not that exactly. It's just -" Giving up, he decided to start again. "You know I was married, that my wife died some years ago," he said softly. "After a while, you give up on the idea that you can have that kind of happiness again. We weren't life- bonded, as those two, but we were happy enough. I miss it. Not so much that, the coupling." He inclined his head in the general direction of where they had found Mulder and Scully. Then he smiled, a little guiltily. "Well, yes, that too. But especially the closeness. There are just times when - " he sighed. "Have you ever thought of perhaps finding another?" Aldara asked. She, too, sometimes ached for the closeness of a lover, but had given up on the idea herself. How many men wanted a half-breed female warrior for a lover? There had been times when she was with Jourdain when she was almost sure that he - but then, her experience in matters of the heart was so limited, she may have misinterpreted a kind word for more than it was. He was silent for a long while. "Sometimes, yes. But I'm not exactly young. And I'm a soldier, which means I'm in a dangerous profession and I'll never be wealthy. Between age, battlescars and nature, I'm not much to look at. I have little to offer a woman." "Well, that would depend on what a woman is looking for, wouldn't it?" Aldara turned to look at him, a little shyly, hoping to see some encouragement. Tentatively, she continued, "Any woman looking for someone strong, and courageous, and honorable; someone dependable, and faithful, and honest, would be very happy with someone like you." Jourdain was very still, except for the pounding of his heartbeat, so loud that surely she could hear it. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "Would you know of anyone like that?" A gentle hand stroked his cheek. "I might," she whispered back, smiling. - - - - - The sun was just coming over the horizon, turning the river to a ribbon of pink and gold, when Mulder and Scully started reluctantly making their way back to camp. They hadn't gone far when they came upon an extraordinary sight. Jourdain, the rough grizzled warrior, was holding Aldara in his lap as carefully as if he thought she might break, as firmly as if he thought she might disappear. They were whispering. Her hand was caressing his cheek, his occasionally reached down to touch her hair, her throat, her face, as if to ensure himself that she was real. "Sorry, are we interrupting?" Mulder said softly. The two sprang away from each other, quite red-faced, feeling incredibly awkward in front of the Mage and his life- bondmate. "I'm afraid we have to get going and break camp. I sympathize - you have no idea how much I sympathize,' Mulder said, and then was amazed when the two experienced warriors broke into giggles. "Oh, we have an idea," said Aldara, Jourdain not trusting himself to speak. The two led the way back to camp. Mulder and Scully lagged a little way behind. "What do you think all that's about?," he asked Scully. From her vantage point this morning, Scully had had a better view of the trail, and knew very well what their giggles were all about. She smiled up at him. "Probably nothing." Within a minute or two, they were back in camp, which had sprung into life. Pots filled with water and pans with meat strips were on the cookfires, and the soldiers were breaking down the tents and getting them packed on the horses. Jourdain and Aldara, once again just two soldiers, took charge of the remainder of the breakfast preparation. They had all taken seats around the fire. As Scully passed Mulder a mug of tea and a plate, she mentally felt him recoil. Looking up into his face, she saw that he had gone white. "Excuse me." He paced a few yards off, and turned his back to the group. He appeared to be staring into the distance. After a several minutes, he turned to face them, his eyes ranging over the small clearing. He nodded, his eyes distant for a few more minutes, then he seemed to focus and walked slowly back to the fire. He spoke in a low voice. "There's been trouble at the castle. The Prince was discovered to be missing yesterday afternoon when his pony came back to the castle without him. They've had search parties out all night to try to find him. They finally found him this morning. Apparently, he has had some kind of a spell cast against him." Jourdain and Aldara cursed vociferously and Tarnor looked ready to burst into tears. Scully had already picked up quite a bit from her link with Mulder, so she knew before he made his announcement. Picturing the beautiful, vibrant child turned into a cold, hard mockery of his living self, she shuddered. Mulder waited for their outbursts to die down, then continued. "Reinald, of course, is devastated. No one knows who did it, and the news is not yet widely known. But Reinald said that those who have heard about it are getting restless. They want someone to blame. There have been angry mobs gathering at the castle, shouting for Reinald's head. We have to get back there as fast as we possibly can. The ride back will take too long. The Realm may be torn apart by revolution and anarchy by then. Faced with no other alternative, Reinald and I are going to build a Gate." "What can we do?" asked Jourdain. Right now, he needed to do something, to channel the incredible anger he felt. He knew Aldara would feel the same way. "Take charge of the other men. And the horses, especially - they won't like all the noise and lightning and such. The last thing we're going to need is my being distracted at a critical moment by a stampede." Scully looked at him. "This is dangerous, isn't it?" He knew better than to try to lie. "Yes, it can be," he admitted. "But I've done it before and I know a lot more now than I did then. I'll be all right. I'm more worried about what we'll find once we get back." "I know. Mulder, that poor little kid. All right, what can I do?" she asked. "Keep everyone clear, no matter what. You, too." He looked at her, not the way he had looked at her in all the months and weeks that went before, but in the way he had started looking at her since last night. He sent her a message, for only each other's minds to know. By the way her mind caressed his, the way her face glowed, the way her eyes grew slightly moist, he knew she had received it. "Okay now, back up, and keep that area over there clear." He indicated the area where the tents had been pitched the night before. He walked over the center of the area and established his connection with Reinald. In some ways, in spite of what he had said to Scully, having helped to build a Gate before was not a lot of comfort. In the previous situation, it was their only chance to escape death. He had been so disoriented and shell-shocked by the fall through the Vortex and the attack of the soul-eaters that he had not fully comprehended the dangers involved, which now he understood only too well. He also understood better now the enormity of their task and the price he would pay physically and mentally, even if everything went as it should. He braced himself, and sent Reinald the signal. Within seconds, he was surrounded by the crackling white and blue power flames, and he staggered with their force. Scully gasped as white fire danced from his fingertips, blue flames coursed down his legs. Although he had shielded himself, because of their special bond she felt the incredible strength it took for him to control this energy. Concentrating all his efforts, he drove the power deep in the earth, anchoring it with the professional twist Reinald had taught him. Panting, he squatted down and took a couple minutes to recover, realizing that if he passed out during the construction of the Gate, he would die and would probably kill Reinald, as well. When he felt strong enough, he stood and centered himself once again. Then, he seized the top of the huge column of fiery energy with his mind, bending it and plunging it into the ground. Taking a shaky breath, he stepped into the center of the arch he had created, and sent the energy back to Reinald. A minute later, the arch began to cloud, then slowly focus into sharp definition, and Reinald was there, calling to them. Mulder summoned the soldiers, who had covered the horses' heads with blankets to prevent as much as possible their becoming frightened. They led the rearing, snorting beasts through the arch to the castle courtyard. Next went Tarnor, then Jourdain and Aldara. Wearily, he walked over the Scully and took her hand. "Speechless, Scully? That's not like you," he teased. "You did that before? Built a Gate like that when we were in the woods? You're right, I am speechless," she said. "That was incredible." He gathered her close, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "It was much more incredible this time. I'm surprised I had the energy, after last night," he observed. "If you weren't so obviously exhausted right now, I'd get you for that." She smiled up at him, took his hand, and led him through the Gate to Fairwood Keep. - - - - - When they had all arrived back through the portal, the soldiers took charge of the horses and led them off in the direction of the stable. Grimly, the others followed Reinald to his chambers, every so often hearing the shouts and clamor of the mob outside the castle gates. In his chamber at last, they sat at the hearth while Reinald updated them. "Did you tell them the nature of the spell on the Prince?" he asked Mulder. "No. Scully knows, I think. I thought I'd wait until we got back here and they could see for themselves." Mulder paused while Grejor served him tea. "Are you any closer to knowing who did it?" "I wish I were. Ask most of the people gathered outside the gates and they'll tell you I did it." Reinald shook his head, a resigned expression on his face. "I can't blame them really. It's the most logical solution. Besides, they're frightened. The harvests the last several years have been poor, not enough to cause famine, but poor nonetheless. There have been intermittent plagues, especially among the young. And now the attacks of the beasts from the Dark Realm. It doesn't take a Mage to tell them that the Prophecy is being fulfilled before their very eyes. They know as well as anyone what's coming - that it could be the end for all of us, for our world. They've looked to Mages from time immemorial for protection, and all too often that trust was abused by magicians who used their powers for selfish or spiteful reasons. Their trust has been eroded. Now, it appears a Mage is responsible for harming their Prince. Naturally, they'd be after my head." Reinald's voice grew rough with emotion, and unshed tears glinted in his eyes. "Oh, Andalor," he whispered. "Where is he now?" Mulder asked gently. Reinald gestured to Grejor, who opened the door to his master's bedchamber. The Prince stood in the center of the room, frozen for all time in stone. Mulder and Scully looked in first, followed by Jourdain, Tarnor and Aldara. The five returned to their chairs with identical expressions of sorrow and anger. "What can we do?" asked Scully. Reinald pulled himself together. "There's so much to do I hardly know where to begin. Jourdain, Aldara - our enemies without and within will lose no time in taking advantage of this. As it is, word of the Prince's fate reached the people suspiciously quickly, leading me to believe that factions inside the castle spread the news. The ever-bickering factions and a panicked populace would be enough to deal with. But we can hardly expect the attacks from the Dark Realm's forces to stop. Therefore, we have two battlefronts, Jourdain, my old friend. And I believe one of your first duties will be to arrest and imprison me." "Nay! I'll never do it!" declared Jourdain. "No one can make me. The idea - that you could harm a hair of the Prince's head - it's ridiculous!" "Thank you, Jourdain, your faith is appreciated, believe me. But when the time comes, arresting me is exactly what you must do." Reinald looked gravely at his Captain and friend. "There will be revolution if it appears that the Prince's attacker will not be brought to justice. As it is, there was almost a riot when the magically sensitive in the crowd sensed the construction of a Gate - I'm sure they thought I was making my escape. In any event, if there is revolution, we will never be able to defend against the evil creatures of the Dark Realm, and we will be doomed for certain. Aldara, you will be in charge of keeping order internally - preventing riots, keeping the factions and the noble houses in line as much as possible, reassuring the people. Keep Jourdain abreast of your activities. Jourdain, you need to take charge of preparing our troops for war with the forces of the Dark Realm." He stopped, noting the warrior's expression. "I do realize that what I'm asking for is nearly impossible. Through Mulder and Tarnor, I saw the unspeakable slaughter and devastation at Wide River. But those creatures must have some kind of weakness, or we must have some form of strength that can be used successfully against them. I want you to find our strength or their weakness and draw up a strategy for using what you find. You are to have all the resources of the Realm at your disposal, including the cooperation of Mage Mulder, Scully, and my apprentices, Tarnor and Grejor. Do you understand?" Grimly, Jourdain nodded. "Good." Reinald paused, letting his head drop back against the chair. The Mage's skin was almost gray from exhaustion. Between being up all night coordinating the search for the Prince, the emotional drain of the Prince's fate, and building the Gate, the toll on him had been heavy. "You may all leave, all but Mulder and Scully. Grejor, you too are dismissed." "Mage, is there nothing I can help you with? You are exhausted," Grejor protested. "No, lad. You're a good boy, but I'll be resting soon. I just need a few words with the Travellers first. I'll call you if I need you." Sullenly, Grejor mumbled a farewell, then left the chamber. When he had gone, Reinald turned to Mulder and Scully. "Well, I see another part of the Prophecy has been fulfilled! One that for a change brings me great joy." He smiled benignly at the pair. Scully sensed Mulder grow tense beside her. Reinald sensed it too. "Even now you haven't told her, Mulder?" he chided, shaking his head. "Told me what?" asked Scully, looking at Mulder. "Everything happened so fast! Really, Scully, I would have told you on the ride back today, if there had been a ride back. I didn't want to tell you before because..." Mulder hesitated. "Well, several reasons, I guess. I was having a hard time dealing with it, and I thought you'd have an even harder time. And I didn't want to put any pressure on you, I wanted you to make up your own mind, and - " "Told me WHAT?" She demanded. "Um...Reinald, would you - ?" Mulder looked almost desperately at Reinald, who chuckled, then nodded. "Mulder must be forgiven for not telling you, my dear," Reinald said. "I'm not sure he believed me when I first told him, and then the idea frightened him badly - " He noticed Mulder's look of shock. "Well, it did, did it not? Yes, I thought so. Anyway, try not to be too hard on him. He has a point when he says that he didn't want to influence you in any - " Scully's voice was icy. "If one of you doesn't tell me what's going on, NOW, I'm going to throw a little Mage-storm of my own!" Mulder and Reinald looked at the irate woman and then at each other. "Oh, I'm sorry. Well," said Reinald. "You and Mulder share a life-bond. Your auras predetermined it. Once you met, there was no stopping it." "What exactly is a life-bond?" Now that her questions were being answered, Scully's voice had lost its edge. "It's the closest kind of relationship that exists, Dana," explained Mulder. "It's why we had those visions when we first arrived, before Corvay taught us how to control them. It's why we always know where the other is. That's very unusual here. It's not because of your psi ability either, although that kind of makes it all the stronger. Mostly it's because of this life-bond thing." "Mulder, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?" asked Scully. He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, partly ashamed of not telling her about the life-bond, partly ashamed of his fear. Seeing Mulder's difficulty, Reinald stepped in. "There are aspects of the life-bond which are rather...daunting," explained Reinald. "I believe Mulder had trouble with the concept that the life-bondmates are less than a whole, singly. He feared losing you, and losing himself in the process." "I just emotionally hared out," admitted Mulder softly, deep pain in his eyes. Also in his mind, and she was getting the full force of it, as she gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh! Dana, I'm sorry." He shielded, and her pain diminished. "Anyway, thinking about the life-bond brought back all the hell of your abduction and illness and all my self-destructiveness and desperation then. I just didn't want to deal with the potential for that much devastation again." Even if she had not just shared his pain, she would have known the effect that Reinald's explanation of the life-bond would have on him. He was only too well aware of the fact that without her, he was not whole. He hardly needed some life- bond to reinforce it. And she was well aware of his fear for losing her. Even in their own world, without telepathy or empathic links, that fear had been communicated to her in a variety of ways in almost every case they had investigated together. "And now?" she asked, her eyes still bright with tears. "Nothing's really changed, Mulder. Can you deal with that potential now?" "Now I know the extent of the joy, too," he said simply, his voice rich with feeling. "And I'm willing to risk the pain for the incredible joy that this brings. That you bring." Mulder searched her face. "But I wanted you to choose freely, to decide to enter into this relationship without the pressure of knowing that it was destined." "So are we life-bonded now?" asked Scully. "How did it happen?" She looked at Mulder, who in turn looked at Reinald. "In a way, you always were, from birth. Once you met and spent time together, it was - I'm sorry, the language spell really can't cope with this, your language doesn't have the words - "forged", is the closest word you have. The bond becomes increasingly strong and close over time. And once it has been - oh, the language problem again -"validated", it becomes inviolate, unbreakable, unassailable, with even more closeness. Yes, now that your bond has been validated, it shows quite clearly in your auras. Scully's now carries a little of Mulder's blue, and Mulder's has some green and just a touch of brown. Both absolutely unique. You may still need some training in dealing with some of the feelings you're going to have, especially now that you're validated. Corvay can help with that, if there's time." "Time is something we're running short of. What do you want us to do, Reinald?" asked Mulder gravely. "Find out who did this to the Prince," Reinald replied without hesitation. "I appreciate the fact that you don't think it was me. Obviously it was someone with a knowledge of magic, but that could be any of hundreds - every village has its Mage. Yesterday was a Market Day, so there were countless numbers of strangers within the castle gates. Some Mage in the pay of one of the noble houses, perhaps a friend of Drellor, who knows? But we must find the person who cast the spell. In the language of the casting we will find the only clues we're likely to get for the key to removing the spell." "Is the Prince still alive? Can he hear us, sense us?" asked Scully. She didn't know which would be worse, not sensing at all, or being able to sense those around you, but not be able to move a muscle or communicate in any way. "I believe with all my heart and mind that he is still alive, but is in some form of stasis," replied Reinald. "As to the other .. I go in, I talk to him, I try to reassure him, but ..." His eyes filled with tears. "We'll do whatever we can," Mulder promised. "In our reality, this is the kind of thing we do for our work - investigating - and we're pretty good at it. Just keep your mind open to communication, especially if you're arrested and they won't let me see you. By the way, am I likely to be suspected of casting the spell on the Prince?" "There's been some talk, again I think it was generated by someone here in the castle," Reinald admitted. "But fortunately you were at too great a distance and with too many credible witnesses for anyone to take such talk seriously." He sagged. "I'm sorry, but I must rest now. Mulder, you should rest too for a few hours, to recover from building the Gate. You don't know when you're going to be called upon to use your powers, so you need to keep them in top form." "I'll do that, Reinald." As Mulder and Scully stood to leave, the Mage grabbed Mulder's sleeve and looked at him. The two communicated silently for a few moments, then Mulder nodded. "I'll remember," he said. After seeing Reinald safely to bed, the couple strolled wearily to their chamber. - - - - - "Mad at me?" He looked at her askance. The two had spoken little on their way from Reinald's quarters. Now they were back in their own chamber. The weather, perhaps sensing the mood of the Realm, had grown overcast and chilly, and they were glad for the fire that crackled merrily in the hearth, cheering the otherwise gloomy room. "I'll get over it. I do understand why you didn't tell me - but that doesn't mean I agree with it. When will you learn not to try to protect me all the time? No more, all right?" "No more," he agreed, a little too easily. Scully sighed. "Mulder, don't promise what you can't deliver. I'd be satisfied with a promise that you will in the future at least ATTEMPT not to be so overprotective of my body and my psyche." "Okay. I will try as hard as I can not to be so overprotective. How's that?" He looked at her hopefully. "Friends again?" In spite of herself, Scully smiled. "I guess that's the best I can reasonably expect." She closed the distance between them to put her arms around him. He bent his head, his lips finding hers in a kiss that began chaste and sweet and gradually became more demanding, as he cupped the rounded softness of her bottom and pressed her against him. While she could still think straight, Scully broke away from him. "You need to go to bed, Mulder." "I intend to." He kept moving toward her, his hands tangled in her hair, raining little kisses on her face, backing her up until she was sandwiched between his body and the bed. "Those were Reinald's orders. You're supposed to get some sleep," she said, with mock severity. "I will, I usually do..." Mulder took her hair and freed it from its practical braid to cascade around her shoulders. "...afterwards." He took her by the waist and boosted her onto the bed, standing with her knees on either side of him. Unlike that first night so many weeks ago, now they did not avoid each other's eyes. No more did they have to hide the ferocious hunger reflected there; rather, they gloried in the implicit promise. No more did they have anything they had to hide; they were eager to share everything they were or needed or wished. Her arms curved around his neck and she leaned close to trace his lips with her tongue before plunging it between them to kiss him deeply. He removed the belt securing her tunic and ran his hands between her shirt and her skin, savoring the warmth and softness they found there. He breathed as if he had been running. His hands came out from beneath her shirt to cup her face. His expression became grave, and he looking deeply into her eyes. "Do you think you can manage going through the rest of your life being bonded with me?" He asked the question seriously. She knew he expected a serious, considered answer. Her reply was in her head, and then it was in his, too, before she could bring the words to her lips. She was suddenly afraid that maybe it was the wrong thing to say, that she had said too much, or too little.... "No, that's perfect," he said, softly. "Me, too, Dana." "You know," she said with a hint of a smile, "if you had said "bonded TO you" my answer might have been different." He returned her smile. "I knew what I was doing. I chose my words deliberately." She relaxed and stroked his cheek. "This instant communication is a little scary. Unless I think to shield, before I even say something, you know what it is. An unguarded thought could really hurt. I can see that this could have its downside." "Yes, but right now let me show you the upside," he murmured. He buried his face in the curve between her neck and her shoulder, nibbling on what, for her, had always been an especially sensitive erogenous area. His hands had again slipped under her shirt to caress the skin down the length of her spine and back up again, just the way she had been hoping he would. She tightened her legs around his waist and gasped softly. "Show me more." ----------------- Scully awoke when Lita came in to light the torches and lay the supper table. Placing a cautionary finger to her lips, she extricated herself from Mulder's limbs and reached for the shirt so hastily discarded a few hours before. She pulled on the long, full garment and slid out of bed. She and Lita went down the length of the room to stand near the hearth. "Try not to disturb him, he needs to rest. Leave the torches unlit for now. Just set the food out, in case he wakes up hungry. I'll take care of anything else." Lita regarded her with an impish grin. "Congratulations, Traveller Scully." Scully looked puzzled. "For what, Lita?" "On your validation, of course," she smiled. "What is this, written on a billboard somewhere?" Scully groaned. "First Jourdain and Aldara see us and then Reinald knows and now you know. Is there anyone who doesn't know? "It's real hard to keep secrets here. It's in your aura," she explained. "My people are very sensitive to auras, and I'm more sensitive than most, more so than many Mages, it's been said. Anyway, you clearly share some Mage aura now. It's no wonder he needs his rest," she teased. Scully chuckled. "Thanks for your good wishes, Lita. Why don't you take the rest of the evening off, I don't think we'll be needing anything else. See you in the morning." She watched as the elf quickly finished laying the table in preparation for dinner, and departed. I wonder what it's going to be like having no secrets and damn little privacy, Scully thought, as she pulled on the rest of her clothes. Tenderness washed over her as she looked at Mulder on her way out. He was sprawled across the bed on his stomach, the bedclothes twisted around him, hair falling into his eyes, dreaming - dreaming of her! She smiled. Mentally she pulled down a light shield, blocking his dreams from her view. His dreams, at least, should be his own. She gently closed the door behind her. She found Corvay in his workroom as she expected. "My dear, come in, come in! Congratulations on your validation!" Scully's eyes rolled heavenward. She resignedly shook her head, then she accepted his salutation with good grace. "I'm so happy for you. And for us, as this helps to further the Prophecy. Maybe we have a chance now. Please, have some tea and tell me why you're here, visiting an old elf like me when you could be with your bondmate." Corvay scurried about, finding the tea things and a couple of stools. "You knew all along about this life-bond - you even hinted about it when I first told you about the visions," Scully accused, curious. "Why didn't you tell me?" "It wasn't my place to tell you. Besides, Reinald asked me not to. He knew that Mulder was having a hard time with it, and unless it was absolutely essential to your welfare for you to know, he thought it best to just give him some time to come to terms with it. I agreed. So, now you're validated! Obviously this did not come to pass in the usual manner..." he looked at her expectantly. "Since I'm still not certain exactly what is meant by validation, I have no idea what the usual manner is," said Scully. "Oh, well, with validation there's a long period of preparation and training, then a very long and involved traditional ritual. This is followed by the families of the bondmates accompanying the couple to a special dwelling, and performing yet another long, complicated ceremony, and then leaving them there for several days. During that time the validation takes place." The little elf's nose twitched and his face was alight with curiosity. "I'm still just guessing to a certain extent, but if validation means what I think it means, no, it was nothing like that," Scully admitted, smiling. "I think it's something that Mulder and I have consciously avoided for a long time. We each decided independently that it would complicate things too much. Since we've been here, though, there have been changes. We've become closer, but - I don't know - I guess we've still been avoiding the issue. But last night, after all the horror at Wide River, we needed each other so badly, it just happened. It just seemed right - to affirm life - after so much death and destruction. Actually, that's why I'm here to see you. I had to do something in Wide River, something I didn't want to have to do, something that has been haunting me. I need your advice." Her smile had transformed into a troubled frown. "May I enter as a Healer and touch that memory, Scully?" he said formally, quite serious now. "You could tell me about it, but it would be preferable if I saw it as it actually happened. I must tell you though - you should know that this will also force you to see it again, to relive the moment actually, which will probably cause you some distress." She considered his request for a moment, thinking with a little wistfulness of the days when she was the only one with access to her mind. God, the last thing she wanted to do was to have to face those horrible moments again. She sighed, gathered all her courage, then she nodded. "Just relax." Corvay brought his stool next to hers, held her hand and was motionless for some time. When he finally broke contact several minutes later, both of their faces were wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, my dear. What a horrible experience. I don't think anything I could do could have prepared you adequately for that, not if I had had years to do it rather than weeks." "Corvay, did I do the right thing for that poor man?" Scully voice was still hoarse with grief and guilt. "Was there anything else I could have done?" "Nothing that would have changed the outcome for the poor devil. You were correct, there was no treatment for him. You had no option. You did precisely as I would have done. Sometimes the only thing a healer can do is offer a merciful death. That is doing your patient as much of a service as anything you can do in healing." "In my reality, healers are not permitted to do this. I can see both sides of the issue very clearly, in fact I accept some of the arguments against such action. But his suffering was so intense, and there was no purpose to it." The troubled expression remained on her face, her eyes still shimmering with tears. "The upcoming times are going to be filled with such situations Just know that what you are doing is right." He smiled sadly at her. She sniffed a little. "That helps, Corvay, it really does. I think I knew all along, but it helps to hear you say it." "I can help more, if you let me. I have a healing chant for such troubling thoughts - will you permit?" Shyly, she nodded. He held her hand lightly and thought rather than uttered the chant, the soothing words going deep into her very soul. He released her hand and let the words instill in her mind for a short time without distraction. Gradually, she returned to full awareness and smiled at him. "Better now, isn't it? Even your aura shines a bit brighter. Good, I'm glad an old being could help. Will you be in for your lesson tomorrow?" the tiny elf inquired. "I hope so. Things are happening so quickly. Have you seen the Prince?" "Yes." The little elf looked downcast again. "There's nothing I can do, not right now, anyway. Perhaps when a Mage has removed the spell, Andalor will need my assistance if his memories of the event have traumatized him, especially in view of his gift. As he is, I can do nothing." Scully nodded, knowing how much the admission probably hurt the soft-hearted elf. He was a Healer, he wanted nothing more than to stop the pain and the hurt, and sometimes it was not in his power. "Well, you've helped me. Corvay, thank you so much." Scully bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. "See you tomorrow," she smiled, as she stepped out into the dark garden. - - - - - Infuriated, Jourdain paced back and forth in Drellor's chambers. The revolting little man was smiling smugly, almost gloating. He had made a valid point and he knew it. "I admit I have never cared for Reinald. He is arrogant and obnoxious and uses his power for his own advancement, like so many Mages these days. Whether I think it was he that turned my nephew into such a deplorable condition is beside the point." He smiled nastily. "I happen to think that he did, but as I say, it is beside the point. What is to the point is that the Realm is in a state of terrible unrest, and only bringing the Prince's attacker to justice will quell the coming revolution." He paused to let his words sink in. "What is the point of bringing someone who is NOT the Prince's attacker to justice?" growled Jourdain. "Because nothing anyone can say will ever make me believe that Reinald knowingly did that child harm." Drellor shrugged. "First of all, it will prove to the Realm that the matter is in hand, and that no one can escape justice, no matter how powerful. That, in itself, is I believe a good enough reason to arrest Reinald without delay." His eyes narrowed as he saw the logic of his argument register with Jourdain. Much as the warrior did not want to admit it, Drellor's point was well taken. He had met with Aldara an hour ago, after she had had a chance to gather information from the mobs still camped outside and representatives of the noble houses and the other species of the Realm. The news was sobering. The Realm was teetering on the brink of collapse. Rumor ran rampant, fed by the factions who were eager to turn any situation to their advantage. Some factions were lining up behind Drellor, and a few were staying loyal to the Regent. Most were just fanning the flames of discontent and waiting for an opportunity to advance their own candidate to replace Reinald as Regent as soon as he was found guilty of putting the spell on the Prince. The populace was mostly concerned about the Prince and thirsting for justice for his enchanter. Aldara reported that Reinald had been correct - there was a lot of anti-Mage sentiment among the people, and they were terrified that the Prophecy was coming true. Drellor broke into Jourdain's thoughts. "Possibly, the spell was a mistake, maybe Reinald lost control of his power for a moment and inflicted harm when he was trying to do good. And now he is so consumed with guilt and regret that even he has blotted out the event from his memory." Drellor looked at Jourdain slyly. While the Royal Guard Captain might never admit to the possibility of Reinald harming the Prince deliberately, he might find the argument of a tragic mistake persuasive. He saw that he had made another direct hit. Again, Jourdain could not keep his expression neutral as he considered Drellor's suggestion. Not very likely, he thought, but just barely possible. He was under no illusions - he was not taken in by Drellor's act of rationality and devotion to the Realm. The man was scum, just out to get an enemy removed and himself named as Regent, so he would have control of the Realm. But Jourdain also knew how Drellor's arguments would sound to the factions and the people, if in fact he had not already broadcast them. Drellor was ready with his final salvo. "If, as you say, Reinald is completely innocent," he said earnestly, "what better opportunity for luring the malefactor into a state of security where he likely to err and reveal himself, than by Reinald's arrest? As the trial of Reinald proceeds, you can be waiting to trap the real enchanter." Jourdain stared at Drellor with distaste. Actually, he had had the same thought himself, he was ashamed to say. He strode over to within an inch of the pudgy little man, towering over him and purposely intimidating him as much as possible. "All right, Drellor, you have made your point. I go now to arrest my friend Reinald. But remember, one of those I shall be watching most closely is you!" He stomped over to the door and flung it open. Grejor almost fell into the room from the hallway, looking at Jourdain with terror. Jourdain snorted, now both of the other inhabitants of the room beneath his contempt. Growling, he strode out the door and down the hall. He stopped at the armory, and selected four guards to accompany him, then continued to Reinald's chambers, where he tapped on the door. Reinald himself answered. "Come in, my friend, I've been expecting you." He opened the door wide and stepped back to allow the Captain and his guards to enter. Jourdain's face was grave. "I'm sorry about this, Reinald. I would give all I have not to be doing this." "No, you're doing the right thing. But I have a few instructions for you." Reinald seemed to be taking his arrest calmly. The sleep he had had the past several hours seemed to have done him a lot of good. "First, I give you charge over the Prince. See that he is kept somewhere safe - the armory, your quarters, wherever. But he is never to be left alone. I don't think there will be any further attempts on him, but it pays to be safe. Secondly, see that news of my arrest is broadcast immediately. This might calm some of the people's fears. Make sure everyone knows that you were instrumental in my arrest - it is important that you are seen more as an administrator of justice than as my friend and ally. And third, do not allow Mulder to see me." Jourdain's eyes grew wide and he gasped. "What? Do you suspect him? Do you think he may try to harm you?" "No, no, nothing of the sort. Just the opposite, in fact. The purity of his aura would dismiss that thought, if nothing else did. No, if anyone is acting for totally unselfish motives, it is Mulder and Scully. But again, it is not wise for them to be seen as too closely allied with me. They invite speculation because they are foreigners to begin with, and his being a Mage also makes him suspect. They must be able to move about freely in order to find the person that enchanted the Prince; they won't be able to do that if they are dogged by my enemies who also suspect them. Between ourselves, if Mulder and I need to communicate, we can do so, but in a way so no one else will know. Can you do these things for me?" Reinald inquired. "Of course, Reinald. "Have you made any progress on the plans for our defense from the Dark Realm?" "I haven't had much chance. I have met with Drellor, who knows I am about to arrest you and is no doubt clapping his fat little hands for joy." Jourdain glowered. "I have also met with Aldara concerning the status of our internal enemies. She has things well in hand there," he said with some pride, which was not lost on Reinald. In spite of his predicament, the Mage smiled, understanding only too well the source of that pride. "She has also given me the beginnings of an idea for our strategy against the evil ones. I dare not say more until I have had time to think." Reinald nodded. "Then you appear to have things under control, insofar as that is possible. Trust no one, my friend - no one except Mulder, Scully, Tarnor and Aldara. Of them I can be certain; to my sorrow, no one else," he said sadly. Then his voice picked up some energy. "Now. I have had an idea. I suggest we put on a little demonstration. Put me in shackles." "But Reinald, there is no need for that!" "I know, but it will look good for the mob below. You will take me up to the battlements and make the announcement of my arrest, I will show them my shackles, and then you will take me to the dungeon - the most commodious cell, please, I do not wish unnecessary discomfort - remove the shackles and then you will lock me up. That should please the mobs and our other enemies and give you a little respite from them as well." Reinald smiled. "Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Jourdain." Jourdain motioned for one of the guards to shackle Reinald's wrists. "But loosely, mind! Belspar, you will stay behind here to look after the Prince until my return. No one is to enter other than myself, is that clear?" The guard saluted and took went into the bedchamber where the Prince stood. Then the little group started the long walk through the hallways and up to the battlements. ----------------- Scully arrived back at their chamber to find Mulder pulling on his breeches and shirt. "Reinald's been arrested," he announced without preamble. "He just contacted me." "What are you going to do?" Scully said, concerned. "For the moment, nothing," replied Mulder. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want me to visit him in jail. It's getting fairly late to do anything tonight, as far as real investigation goes. I thought maybe we could use this time to come up with a plan of action for tomorrow. And eat. I'm starving, for some reason." "The fact that you haven't eaten today may have something to do with that. Let me see what Lita left us." Scully stirred the pot. "Looks like a vegetable stew. Let me just stick it on the fire for a few minutes to warm up. That was interesting, what Reinald said about the poor harvests for the past few years. I had noticed a certain sameness to the diet, but I figured that's just what people ate here. I didn't realize that it might be because of food shortages." "We're guests here, Scully. I'm sure we would have been the last to feel any effects from food shortages. Their natural sense of hospitality would have made sure of that. Things must be getting worse, though; meals have been pretty skimpy lately. And if we're going to be mobilizing troops, there will probably be some form of rationing imposed." Scully stirred the stew, then dished it into thick earthenware bowls, passing one to him. "Mulder?" "Oh, thanks," he said, distracted. "I didn't get most of that. What are you thinking about?" She dipped her spoon into her bowl and began eating. "Trying to think of a way to go about investigating this," he replied. "We really don't have any authority here, so the cooperation we get will be pretty haphazard. From the little that Reinald has told me about all the various political and family and species factions, an outsider doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of figuring out what's going on with them. If the motive is purely political - someone out to remove the present authority and replace it with someone else - I think we're in trouble," Mulder said, frowning. "I agree. And from the little contact I've had with the noble houses and from what Aldara has said, I think the cooperation we can expect is somewhere between extremely limited and none," Scully said. "The thing is, Mulder, if the motive isn't political, what is it? I can't bring myself to believe that anyone here, not even the repulsive Drellor, would align himself with the forces of the Dark Realm. First, I don't think the creatures of the Dark Realm feel the need for an "inside man" - they probably think that this Realm is theirs for the taking any time they want to take it. Also, there would be communication problems, assuming the creatures speak a different language, and there's no reason why they wouldn't. So I think we can eliminate treason, consorting with the enemy, that kind of thing. Want more stew?" "Please." Mulder pushed his bowl forward for another helping, then leaned back in his chair. "All right. I agree. Treason is out. Politics is something we don't want to consider unless all else fails. So what's left?" Mulder counted on his fingers. "Greed. Not a very good motive, in my opinion. I haven't noticed evidence of any great wealth around here. Maybe it's a result of an agrarian economy and consecutive years of poor harvests, but I'd say the movers and the shakers here at the castle are no better off than the farmers and merchants and craftsmen. Besides which, with the forces of the Dark Realm camped on our doorstep, how long could anyone reasonably expect to stay wealthy? Or alive, for that matter. So I would have to eliminate greed as a viable motive. What else?" "Revenge?" suggested Scully. "We know there was bad blood between Drellor and Reinald. And we know that anti- Mage feeling is running high. Maybe we shouldn't be looking for someone who wanted to harm the Prince or change the order of succession. Maybe we should be looking for someone who's out to get Reinald." Mulder nodded slowly, considering her suggestion. "A personal motive. I like it, Scully. It would certainly be much easier to investigate. Okay, what else? What other personal motives should we be considering?" "Love, requited or otherwise. Since Mages don't indulge - present company excepted, of course - that seems unlikely." Scully grinned at Mulder. "Your turn." "Jealousy. But jealous of what?" Mulder looked puzzled. "Reinald has better than average magical powers, but that's a gift. It isn't reasonable to be jealous of that." "We may not be dealing with someone who's thinking reasonably," Scully observed. "Good point. What else is there to be jealous of? Attention maybe?" Mulder posed. "You know what strikes me?" asked Scully. "The timing. Why now? It would seem to be a really stupid time to try to take over the Realm, with the Dark Forces breathing down our necks. That's another reason I think this is personal, Mulder. As part of a plan for acquiring power or wealth, it's insane, it makes no sense at all. But if this is just some person acting out of anger or jealousy or frustration, then it does make sense." "Scully, you're right!" Mulder leapt to his feet and started pacing, just the way he had done so frequently back in his basement office at FBI headquarters a lifetime ago. "This makes it much easier. Now we just have to compile a list of suspects - people who would have reason to want to get back at Reinald for some personal reason, probably anger, revenge or jealousy. Or any ideas about who we can eliminate? We can't ignore the fact that someone without magical powers might have hired an unscrupulous Mage to do the dirty work, either, though I'd still lean towards someone with Mage ability - and quite a bit of it. I know from experience that a spell as complex as this one is not easy to build or use." "Well, I vote we eliminate Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor for a start," she said. "First of all, they were with us in Wide River. I suppose that wouldn't prevent them from having hired someone, but still. I know Aldara pretty well. I'm aware she doesn't particularly like Mages, and that might be seen as a motive. But if she got angry, she'd slit Reinald's throat in a temper. She wouldn't plot, nor would she use an innocent kid to get back at him. It's just not her style." "I agree, one hundred percent. Having been on the receiving end of her temper, I know you're right. If she lost it, she'd be perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage before she came to her senses, but never something like this." Mulder's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Okay, what about Jourdain? He too strikes me as a very up-front kind of guy. If pushed, he'd run someone through with a sword, but he wouldn't hatch plots. Nor would he harm the Prince. That's out of the picture psychologically, he has an innate awe and respect for authority figures. "Tarnor?" Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe he'd do this. He does have some mage ability which should put him on the suspect list, but in all the time we've spent with him, both in the forest and at Wide River, he hasn't done or said anything suspicious." "Okay, so who does that leave, that we know of?" Scully's eyes lit up with an idea. "Maybe it was an elf - they're supposed to have a fairly high level of natural magical ability. But not Corvay - I refuse to believe that. He's devastated about the Prince. Besides, he's in my mind and I'm in his all the time. If he had anything to hide, I think he would have made some kind of excuse to stop my lessons. He couldn't be certain that I wouldn't take a peek someplace in his head I wasn't supposed to be." Mulder smiled, intrigued and as always, burning with curiosity. "Someday you're going to have to teach me how that psychic healing works. Anyway, about elves. I suppose it's possible. But Reinald's been so busy with me, he hasn't had time to even notice the existence of anyone else, let alone time to piss off some elf so badly that the elf would want to put a spell on the Prince and a frame on Reinald." Mulder sat and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Who had the thought first, neither could say. But suddenly, the both sat upright. "Grejor!" "It makes perfect sense, Mulder. He has magical abilities, so he had means. He was here at the castle, so he had opportunity. He was the apple of Reinald's eye until you came along. Then all Grejor was good for was sweeping up smashed bottles and serving tea and other menial tasks." Scully's face was lit with enthusiasm. "He's jealous of Reinald's attention to you, your training, and your abilities. His training has come to a standstill, while Reinald has devoted himself to you. He's probably even been jealous of the affection between Reinald and Andalor. So he had a motive." She frowned. "What I can't understand is why he didn't target you. He should be more angry with you than with anyone." "That's something we'll have to ask him. It makes sense that he's got the mage talent. I didn't like the idea that a mage handed off such a powerful spell to someone else to activate - it could explode too easily in the wrong direction. All right, so we consider Grejor our prime suspect," Mulder said. "Now how do we flush him out? Any ideas?" "Too bad they don't have polygraphs here," Scully joked. Mulder stared at her. "But they do!" "What?" Scully stared at him. "They do." Mulder sat forward to explain. "Whenever Reinald was trying to be evasive or less that completely truthful, something happened to his aura. The best way I can explain it is that it flickered, and the tone got very slightly darker. Now, Reinald has an aura that's really easy to distinguish, because he's so powerful. I'm not very good at auras at the best of times. We kind of glossed over that part of the training because it wasn't really a priority. In fact, Reinald admitted to me that auras weren't his specialty either, that reading auras took a lot of concentration on his part. Anyway, theoretically, Grejor's aura should undergo some tell-tale changes if he lies while we're questioning him. Unfortunately with my lack of skill at reading auras, I don't think I'd be able to see it well enough to discern slight changes." "Lita!" Scully exclaimed. "Where?" Mulder glanced behind him quickly, thinking that she had just come in. "What about Lita?" "Lita knew immediately that we - ummmm - were "validated", because she could see it in my aura. She said she was especially good at reading auras, better than some Mages, she said. Do you think she would help us?" "We can ask in the morning. Okay, now that we have our prime suspect and a way to gather evidence, we need to think about something else." Scully looked quizzically at him. "What kind of evidence do we need?" Mulder prompted. "For all we know, their justice system works like trial by fire or the Spanish Inquisition or the Salem witch trials. I think we need to find out the course of the trial and what kind of evidence is admissible or inadmissible. Also we need to get a time frame. Will the trial be tomorrow, next month, next year?" Mulder sighed. "Not that I think we have that long." He stood up, restless. "It's not too terribly late, is it? Do you think we could go ask Jourdain or Aldara?" "I don't see why not," said Scully, standing. "I know you - you'll be up all night thinking about it if we don't find out." He put his arms around her. "I may be up all night, but that is NOT what I'll be doing." Scully laughed. "Let's go, Mulder." - - - - - The two tapped at Aldara's door, hoping for better luck than they had had finding Jourdain. There had been no answer at his door, and too many possibilities for where he might be. It had taken them some time to get to Aldara's quarters. She lived outside of the castle proper, although within the gates, in one of the small outbuildings by the stable. They waited a minute or two, then tapped again. "Maybe it is too late at night to go visiting," Scully said. Just as they were turning to leave, the door opened. Aldara stood in her breeches, her shirt untucked, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. Scully smiled and whispered so only Aldara could hear, "It seems that turnabout is fair play." Louder, she said, "We had some questions about your justice system. Can you help us?" Aldara chuckled and pulled the door back to allow them to enter. Jourdain was inside, sitting decorously at the table, but with the same high color in his cheeks and uncharacteristically mussed look. "Ah, Jourdain, good," said Mulder, apparently oblivious to the fact that he and Scully had interrupted something. "We need to pick your brain." "What?" Evidently the language spell had problems with that idiom. "Sorry. We need to get some information from you. What happens now to Reinald? When will the trial start, how long will it last, what kind of evidence will we need?" Mulder sat at the table, nodding his thanks to Aldara as she pushed a mug of tea his way. "This kind of trial is unusual, there hasn't been one in living memory," Jourdain began. "When the accused is a high noble or a member of Royalty, human or otherwise, the structure is a little different. The Council of Representatives is called into session. They act as the jury. Unfortunately, because it is so highly factioned, the way they will determine guilt or innocence is based less on the evidence and more on politics and family histories. Representatives of the other species' governments are also invited to sit. They will probably be much more influenced by the actual evidence. Torture as a means of gathering evidence is illegal, as is the use of magic spells. Everything else is admissible. Usually the prosecution makes its case very quickly and doesn't present a great deal of evidence. It doesn't have to. Unless the defense evidence is overwhelming, the accused is always found guilty." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. "Now I see why you didn't want to arrest Reinald." Scully said. "Exactly," replied Jourdain, grimly. "When will the trial take place?" "Normally in one to three days from the time of arrest. But these are not normal times. Because of the travel hazards and the problems with communication due to the Dark Realm incursions, it will take longer to get everyone here. Maybe a week, no longer than that. The trial itself won't take more than two days. The sentence is carried out immediately." Mulder stirred uncomfortably. "If Reinald is found guilty, what's that sentence likely to be?" Jourdain sighed heavily. "If Reinald is found guilty, he will receive the death sentence." Mulder and Scully gaped at him. He looked over at them, then lowered his eyes. "It gets worse. As Captain of the Royal Guard, I will be his executioner." ----------------- Scully lay comfortably in the enormous bed, letting her mind wander. Idly, she wondered what time it was. The light that filtered through the opaque bedcurtains was diffuse, deceiving. It was after dawn, anyway. She looked down at Mulder, his head pillowed on her breasts. He looked absurdly young when he was asleep, she thought. She absently stroked his hair, and he stirred a little, his arms tightening around her as if to reassure himself of her presence, then relaxing again. What the hell had they been so afraid of? How much would this actually have complicated things, she wondered. The past two days with him had been - incredible. Now she regretted all the time they could have been sharing this closeness, but had chosen not to for reasons which now seemed impossible to fathom. There was a soft tap at the door, and Scully heard it open and close. Lita. "Mulder," she whispered, and leaned down to gently touch her lips to his. "Mmmm." Still half asleep, he reached for her, to prolong and deepen the kiss. Funny how in just two days that reaction had become automatic. Scully smiled against his lips. "Not now, love. Time to get up - no, I know, I don't mean that. Lita's here." Mulder sighed and rolled over onto his back and stretched. Finally he opened his eyes. "Breakfast! I'm starved." "Mulder, you're such a romantic." Scully grinned. "Mmm, well, you're the one who said 'not now.' Scully, you don't suppose you can find me something to wear?" She tossed him his shorts from the bottom of the bed, slipped on her nightshirt, and slid out of bed. "Good morning , Lita. We have a favor to ask you," Scully said, crossing to the breakfast table and seating herself. "Of course, Traveller Scully. What can I do for you?" Lita answered without pausing from her task of filling the copper tub with bath water. Mulder finally appeared from behind the bedcurtains and shuffled to the table. "Scully tells me you have a gift for seeing auras. We're going to need some help interpreting someone's aura. Specifically, trying to determine if this person is telling the truth. I've noticed aural changes when someone lies. What do you think, is that true?" "Oh, yes, quite true. The more vibrant the person's aura, the easier it is to tell, but yes, there's almost always some kind of change. Strictly speaking, it isn't related to lying, as much as trying to hide something," Lita said. "I had a brother who was always into mischief and trying to get away with things. He was always surprised he got caught. It took him ages to figure out his aura gave him away. He was not blessed with intelligence, that one." Scully smiled. "So will you help us?" "Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?" Lita looked expectantly from Scully to Mulder. "Just come with us when we question someone," replied Mulder. "Don't say anything until afterwards, when we're alone again, then give us your impressions of what happened to his aura when certain questions were asked. Can you do that?" Lita nodded. "Who are you going to question?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other and a rapid flurry of messages passed between them. Deciding that they were committed to trusting her, Scully finally said "Mage Apprentice Grejor." "Him!" snorted Lita. "I could tell you stories about that one, I could!" Mulder tried to keep the keen interest out of his voice. "Like what, Lita?" She lowered her voice. "Well, I'm not a gossip as the gods well know, but that one has no business being a Mage Apprentice. His gifts are ordinary, very ordinary," she sniffed disdainfully. "Many's the time Reinald almost went mad from frustration trying to teach him. It's been said the only reason Reinald kept him on is that he felt sorry for him. That, and Grejor's determination. He is ambitious, determined to go back to his village as a trained Mage." She stopped and frowned. "What is it?" asked Scully. "Well, now that I think about it," Lita said slowly, "I haven't been running into Grejor as often as usual for the past few days - in fact, I don't think I've actually laid eyes on him for a week or more. I've had a couple of errands to do that involved going to Reinald's chambers, but Grejor always seemed to disappear into another room or a closet whenever I showed up." "Lita, is your ability to read auras well known throughout the castle?" asked Scully, catching Mulder's eye. "Pretty well known. In fact, Reinald himself asked me to help him concerning an aural problem," she finished proudly. "Was Grejor apprenticed to Reinald then?" asked Mulder. "Wait, let me think. Yes, I believe so, very early in his apprenticeship, it was. No, wait! It was when Grejor was being considered for the apprentice post. That's it," Lita smiled. "Reinald himself was having problems reading Grejor's aura. Reinald's really not very good at auras for such a powerful Mage and Grejor's aura is very strange anyway. Blue, but a little on the pale side for anyone with Mage ability, and kind of - "dusty" - is the only way I can describe it. So Reinald asked me to read Grejor's aura for him. I think Grejor was upset about that - a mere maidservant interpreting his aura. He tends to be a little defensive about his aura as it is. So anyway, I told Reinald what I saw." Scully was almost afraid what the outspoken Lita might have said. "What did you tell him?" "Well, I was nice to the lad. He couldn't help it, after all. I was honest with Reinald about the aura - that's a matter of pride with me - but then I said he was a likely looking lad and I was sure that he would work hard. And he has, I'll give him that. He'll do anything to get ahead. All right, will there be anything else?" "Are you coming back for my bath?" asked Mulder hopefully. What had begun as an embarrassing ordeal had become for him a highly appreciated luxury, almost a decadence, that he happily anticipated every morning. Lita laughed. "Heavens no, you're validated now, Mage! That is now something your bondmate may do if she wishes, no one else. I've filled the tub, I'll empty it when you're finished. That's where my duties end now." "Oh. Well, thank you for setting me straight on that," said Mulder, disappointed. "Yes, check back with us in a little while, then we'll go see Grejor." She left, and they began to eat breakfast. Mulder seemed distracted. "Uhhhm...Scully...?" "Only if you promise to behave." - - - - - They were almost ready when Lita rapped at the door about an hour later. While waiting, she busied herself with clearing away the breakfast things, then turned to the tub. She surveyed the flood of water on the floor surrounding the tub and shook her head. "There's a trick to emptying the tub. Leave it for me, don't try to do it yourself." "That's not - " Mulder began. "Thank you, Lita, we'll remember that," said Scully hastily. She finished braiding her damp hair. "Okay, let's go." The three walked through the hallways to Reinald's chambers and knocked. There was no answer. They then checked Grejor's quarters, the food hall, the courtyard and the stables, all without success. "All right, I'm open to suggestions, ladies," said Mulder, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "Any ideas where Grejor might be?" Lita shook her head. "I can put the word out amongst the servants, Mage. That'll probably work as well as anything. Meanwhile, there's duties I must get back to." "Yes, of course. Sorry for wasting your time, Lita," said Mulder. "We'd appreciate your spreading the word. We'll see you tonight; sooner if you find out anything." They sighed simultaneously as they watched her leave. "Mulder, let's try Drellor. He may know where Grejor is. Whether he wants to tell us is another story," said Scully. "Interesting, what Jourdain said about Grejor being at Drellor's chamber yesterday. There may be a perfectly good reason for it, of course, something perfectly innocent, but somehow I kind of doubt it. It sounded like Grejor had been eavesdropping. Besides, Drellor is such a worm, I can't believe anything good about him." "It can't hurt," agreed Mulder, and they struck out for Drellor's quarters. Scully rapped on the door. Drellor's frown turned to an oily smile when he saw Scully. "Oh my dear, how lovely of you to visit me." He had grabbed her hand and put it to his wet lips when he caught sight of a glowering Mulder behind her. He dropped her hand abruptly. "Oh, and Mage Mulder, I am so honored," he said, with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Scully. "What can I do for you?" "We've been looking for Grejor. I don't suppose you'd have any idea where he is, would you?" asked Mulder, somewhat imperiously. "What would you want Grejor for?" asked Drellor suspiciously. "We need to consult with him regarding some magic. With Reinald in jail, Grejor is the only source I have for some of Reinald's books and so on," Mulder answered smoothly. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Now if you don't mind, I have much to do." Drellor looked pointedly at them, and then the door. "I'm glad to see you bearing up so well, what with the tragedy involving your nephew and all," said a very sympathetic Scully. "It must have been a terrible shock for you. Evidently, Drellor didn't have an ear for sarcasm. "My dear, you have no idea what a blow it's been. That's why I have decided to put all my energy into preparing for the trial. I have applied and been accepted for the role of Prosecutor Royal." The dreadful little man puffed up his chest and began almost strutting around the room. "Yes, if I can't have my beloved Andalor back to normal, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I have done everything in my power to bring Reinald to justice." "Then you have no doubt that Reinald did it?" Contempt hung on every one of Mulder's words. "None whatsoever," Drellor snapped. "Maybe you can help me, Drellor," said Scully. "We're foreigners and not used to your ways. What happens at the trial, and what will you do? Prosecutor Royal sounds like a very powerful and responsible position." Drellor decided to ignore Mulder's presence in the room and just address himself to Scully, who obviously had much more respect for his position. "My dear, it is, it is. It will be my job to present the Crown's case and to bring in witnesses who can help to show Reinald's guilt." "What witnesses?" asked Scully, puzzled. "I was under the impression that no one knew about it until the Prince was found hours later. Of course, I only know what I hear around the castle, I'm sure you're privy to much more reliable information." "Well, no one saw the actual act itself, no, that's quite true. But there's such a thing as intent, and that will go a long way to proving our case. We will have a very powerful and incriminating witness who can testify to the fact that Reinald had been working on this spell and spoke many times about how Andalor was a thorn in his side." Drellor looked smug. "Well, you certainly seem to have thought of everything," Scully said, a look of admiration on her face. "I'm so sorry we disturbed you. I know you have a lot to do. If you see Grejor, just tell him we're looking for him. Thanks for your time." She favored him with a lovely smile. "Goodbye, my dear. You are welcome back any time." He emphasized the "you." Drellor bent over her hand once again. In a much colder tone, he said, "Goodbye, Mage Mulder." They walked in silence all the way back to their chamber before Mulder started chuckling. "Scully, that was absolutely the most disgusting display of fawning I think I have ever seen in my life. I had no idea you were capable of such duplicity. You may have missed your true calling on the stage. Or possibly as a bunco artist. I learn more fascinating things about you all the time. Come here." When she complied, he wrapped his arms around her. "A whole new slant on the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine," she agreed, looking up at him. "Obsequious Cop/Contemptuous Cop maybe. But we found out a couple things we didn't know before. I would bet any amount of money that Grejor is the star prosecution witness..." "...and Drellor has him stashed away until the trial. I think you're right," Mulder said, resting his cheek on her hair. "It certainly makes a lot of sense. Grejor can testify that he saw Reinald practicing a spell to turn things to stone, and had been talking about how he wanted to exercise more power as Regent." Reluctantly, he let go of her - he needed to pace. "I can't think of anyone else who would be such a strong witness. But he'll be perjuring himself, Scully, and that might be our chance." "I hate to have it wait until the trial," replied Scully, uncomfortable with the prospect. "That's cutting it awfully close. If for some reason the aural changes don't occur or aren't convincing, we don't have anything to fall back on, and almost no time to come up with anything else. She added grimly, "It's not like there's a long appeals process here." "No. So Drellor is the Prosecutor," said Mulder thoughtfully. "That might help us. The man is clever, but not particularly intelligent, and his conceit is a huge weakness." Just then there was a knock at their door. Mulder opened it to discover Tarnor, looking up at him anxiously. "Tarnor! Come in." Scully began to prepare tea. They had been in the Realm long enough now that they were starting to observe some of its customs. One of the greatest breaches of Realm etiquette was not to offer tea to a guest. Mulder seated Tarnor in one of the armchairs by the hearth, and brought over a wooden chair for himself. Once tea had been made and served, the reason that had brought the little gargoyle to their chamber could be discussed. Tarnor accepted the mug gratefully and shifted in his chair. "I've been named Defender Royal. I'm not happy about it, but I can't think of anyone else to do it, and besides, Reinald asked me, so it's official. Reinald said to talk to you, that you're trying to find out who really cast the spell on the Prince. Have you found out anything?" He looked at them hopefully. "We're working on it, Tarnor," Mulder said. "We think we know who did it and why. It's now a matter of getting proof, and we have a plan for that. But I don't know if it will be enough. From what Jourdain told us, the defense evidence has to be overwhelming. I'm not sure we'll have that." Tarnor shook his head. "Poor Jourdain. He would rather cut his own throat than be in the position he's in right now. If it weren't for the incursion of the Dark Realm, he'd resign. But he feels the Realm needs him, and it does. I'll tell you this, if Reinald is found guilty and Jourdain must do his duty as Captain of the Royal Guard, it will be the end of him. He'll lead the fight against the Dark Realm, but he won't survive it - he'll see to that." Scully nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're right, of course - there's more than just Reinald's life at stake here. With Reinald gone, no one is likely to be able to take the spell off the Prince, so in essence, he'll be dead. And Jourdain." She thought of Aldara. If Jourdain fell on the field of battle, she knew that Aldara would follow him into death, at his side and taking as many of the enemy with her as possible. She shook her head, trying to erase the picture. She felt Mulder's mind give hers a reassuring squeeze. "Well, we'll just have to come up with enough evidence to clear Reinald," she said with a confidence she didn't feel. Tarnor's face lightened a bit. "Can you do that? Who do you think enchanted the Prince?" "We're pretty sure it's Grejor," said Mulder. Briefly he explained their reasoning and their plan for using Grejor's aural changes as evidence. "Obviously, we'd prefer to find out before the trial starts if the plan will work by questioning him and having someone interpret his aura. But Grejor seems to have disappeared." "Drellor's hiding him,' Tarnor grunted. "I'm sure of it. He's probably trying to keep him away from you." He sat up and looked more animated than he had since arriving. "I'll tell you something else - I've worked side by side with Grejor. I probably know him better than anyone. I'm going to give you a list of names - all Mages who aren't above dabbling in the Black Arts. Grejor won't have dreamed up that spell himself, he hasn't got the talent. But he's perfectly capable of casting a spell that someone else has made up. Grejor is terribly ambitious. He was complaining to me one day a long time ago of the slow pace of his training, and muttered something about there being a faster way to get what he wanted. I can't be sure, but I think the Black Arts is what he had in mind. You'll need to be careful with these people, Mage Mulder. They are not overwhelmingly powerful, but they are clever and unscrupulous." As Scully looked for parchment, ink and quill pen, Mulder said, "If we can trace the spell, that would help enormously. What do you think the chances are of these people cooperating?" Tarnor shrugged. He accepted the writing materials from Scully and started to jot down names. "I don't know. It's hard to say. Perhaps better than we expect, especially if Grejor has done something to anger them. Such as inviting the scrutiny of a Mage asking all sorts of difficult questions." He handed the list to Mulder and wiggled down from the chair. "Remember, use great care and watch your back. Be ready for anything with these people." The little being started for the door. "Thank you. You've raised my spirits already. I actually think we may have a chance now." He flashed them the alarming gargoyle grin, and left. "What are your plans now? Are you going to check out that list?" Scully asked. "No, I have some research to do, a little assignment from Reinald," Mulder said. Scully looked at him. She couldn't believe he wouldn't want to start investigating Tarnor's list immediately. Mulder shook his head. "Remember when he communicated with me immediately before we left his chambers? He made me promise to make this a priority - looking for a way to reverse the spell on the Prince. He told me that nothing, not even his defense, was to come before this." "But, Mulder," argued Scully, "If we put all our energy into finding the person who put the spell on the Prince, we'll have a better idea of how to reverse it." "That's true only if the guilty party - as we believe, Grejor - decides to confess all and cooperate in reversing the spell. Certainly that would be the best solution to the problem. However, Reinald was of the opinion that we're likely not to have that kind of cooperation, and it may be up to us to find a way. I'll start checking out the names on the list tomorrow. What are you going to do?" "Do you want me to start checking on some of those names?" "Absolutely not, Scully. When we go, it will be together. As it is, when we go tomorrow, I'm going to have to provide a little supernatural protection for us - I wouldn't trust these characters as far as I could throw them." "In that case, I have a lesson with Corvay, if you don't need me for anything else. If Wide River was any example, there's a lot more about healing I have to learn," Scully said, suppressing a shudder. "Let me know if Grejor turns up or anything important happens, okay?" Mulder looked up from the list and smiled warmly at her - a smile that touched not only his eyes, but his mind, and hers as well. "See you back here for dinner?" Nodding, she returned his smile, caressing his mind. Then she was out the door. ----------------- With a terrific headache and profound tiredness, Scully finally sank onto a stool. Corvay had been at it for hours, teaching her the chants and stasis spells and other healing techniques reserved for those with the most severe injuries. She felt more prepared for the upcoming carnage now, while hating the fact that it was necessary. Her next lesson would be more difficult still - learning the release chants which would quickly exchange pointless agonized suffering for peaceful death. Wordlessly, she accepted the mug of tea Corvay handed her and took the first scalding sip, eagerly anticipating the resulting spread of warmth and energy. She sighed. "You did well, my dear, very well. Learn these chants and you will be a Healer in every way my equal." Corvay looked at her anxiously. "I'm not going too fast, driving you too hard, am I?" "No, Healer," she half-smiled at him. "Unfortunately, it's necessary. We don't have any idea how much time we have before the invasion of the Dark Realm forces starts in earnest. We have to be ready." "Your healing skills will be.... Scully, are you all right?" The little elf went to her side in response to her look of concentration and concern. "Yes." Scully took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Corvay, we need to get to where Reinald is imprisoned, right away. Mulder is on his way there. Something's wrong with Reinald, Mulder doesn't know what, but he thinks it may be serious. We need to get there now!" The two moved as fast as Corvay's short little legs could carry him, running along hallways and down staircases for what seemed like miles, before finally descending the last staircase and arriving in the dungeon. Mulder had gotten there before them and was in the process of interrogating one of the guards. The atmosphere felt electrically charged and damp. Scully looked around and up at the ceiling, then mentally reminded Mulder to shield. He caught her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, and paused a second to do so. The climate started to change immediately. He broke away from the guard and approached her, as Corvay scurried into the open door of Reinald's cell.. "Mulder, what happened?" Scully said anxiously. "I was reading when I suddenly heard Reinald talking to me, saying he had been drugged. By the time he realized it himself, he was almost in a stupor. I contacted you and I followed his thoughts to him as far as I could, then he lost consciousness. Then I had to get directions for the rest of the way here. When I got here he was comatose and unresponsive." "Did he have any idea who did this to him?" Mulder shook his head. "No, he had just had some tea, it must have been in that. He didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. According to the guards, the first they knew anything was wrong was when I got here and started yelling at them to let me into his cell. Jourdain should be on his way." Scully and Mulder went into Reinald's cell. Corvay was bent over him, his face twisted in concentration. Impatiently they waited for his assessment. Finally the little healer dropped Reinald's hand and opened his eyes. He picked up the tea cup by the side of the bed and delicately sniffed at it, then put it down. Standing, he motioned them out of the cell. "He's in a deep coma. I have identified the herbal involved. As you may have suspected, it was introduced into his tea. It's relatively rare, but I am familiar with its properties. Reinald will need watching, but the best treatment is for him to simply sleep it off." Corvay looked from Mulder to Scully. "I could attempt to erase or reverse the effects, but such treatment isn't normally used and can have some dangerous side effects. If there is no pressing need for him to be conscious, I would suggest we allow him to sleep. I will stay here with him, just in case." "Could this drug have killed him?" Mulder asked the healer. "It's unlikely. It could have, but that would be unexpected. Even at quite high doses, the effect seems to be more or less the same, the length of the coma is the only variant." "How long do you think this will last?" Corvay considered. "From the amount I deduce he has ingested, I would not expect him to be back to normal for three or four days. If he had finished that cup of tea, he would have been out for five or six days." "In other words, almost until the trial," said Mulder. Corvay nodded. "He may have very brief periods of sentience starting probably the day after tomorrow. I would prefer to use those times for giving him fluids, rather than having him talk, unless it is critical." He looked at Mulder. "No, Corvay, you take care of him. Whatever you say is fine." He lowered his voice. "Actually, we made plans before he was arrested to deal with this eventuality. I would suggest that from now on his food and drink is tested." "While Scully is here and can stay with Reinald, I'll go back and fetch the teas and potions I will need from my workroom. We won't trust anything that doesn't come from there." "Good plan," said Mulder. Scully went into Reinald's cell to watch over him and Corvay left to fetch supplies from his workroom. A deep growling voice came from the staircase and preceded the entry of Jourdain. "I had a few words with the Healer. I gather the news is not serious?" Jourdain said. "Serious enough. But I don't think anyone wanted to kill Reinald," Mulder said slowly. "Certainly if they had wanted to they could have. But for some reason they didn't." "Then why would anyone do such a thing?" Jourdain demanded. "Reinald wasn't going anywhere." "I think to prevent his communicating with me. We kept up a telepathic communication from the time of his arrest - I could ask his advice, he could give me information. Obviously, someone thought that was dangerous." Mulder paused. "Whoever it was seems certain that Reinald will be found guilty. Otherwise, I think they would have just slipped him a lethal dose of poison and been done with it. Whoever drugged him wants him to go through the torment of the trial and execution, wants him to die in shame. And that, Jourdain, speaks of someone with a lot of hatred for Reinald." The Captain grunted. "Do you know who did it?" "We're working on it and I think we're getting pretty close," Mulder said encouragingly. "Certainly this attack on Reinald is a sign that someone is worried about what we might find out." "May the gods prove you right, Mage," Jourdain sighed. "I don't know how I'll get through this if he is found guilty." "I know. We're doing everything we can. Tarnor gave us some more information that may prove valuable." Mulder smiled. "We have a plan. Try not to worry." Jourdain shrugged. "I think I'll sit by my old friend a while." Mulder nodded. Scully stepped out of the cell to give him some privacy. The grizzled soldier had seemed close to tears when he entered the cell. Answering her unspoken question, Mulder said, "It could have been Grejor, it's hard to say. Could have been one of Drellor's lackeys, too. I don't think we'll ever prove it either way. Reinald didn't know who slipped him the drug, I'm certain of that." Corvay returned with Aldara in tow, both loaded down with pots and jars and kettles. "I have everything I'll need for the next three days. After that, I'll need someone to go back for more supplies. Scully?" "I'll be happy to, Healer," Scully replied. Corvay nodded, then entered Reinald's cell and started unpacking his potions. Aldara put down what she had carried into the cell and stood looking at Jourdain for a few minutes. He appeared to have turned to stone himself as he sat by his friend's bedside, holding his hand. She walked out of the cell and over to Scully and Mulder. "Scully, would you walk with me back to my quarters? I need to ask your advice about something." Aldara's voice was uncharacteristically tentative and her eyes reddened. "Sure, give me just a second." The half elf moved away to the staircase. "Mulder, I'd better go, she seems really upset," Scully whispered, searching his face. "Do you mind?" "Of course not, go." Mulder smoothed back some hair that had escaped from her braid. "I'll be leaving here shortly anyway, there's not much I can do. I'll just go back to our room. We probably missed Lita - she'll have set out supper by now." "Go ahead and eat without me. I don't know how long this will take. Just save me some and I'll have it when I get back." She sent him a more personal farewell along their mind link and reached up to touch his cheek. He captured her hand and held it there for a few seconds, sending his own message. She blushed lightly and smiled, then joined Aldara and the two left. Mulder strolled into Reinald's cell. Jourdain hadn't moved a muscle. He squatted down next to the healer and spoke in a very low voice. "Corvay? I'm going now. Send a guard for me if you need me for anything. Let me know if his condition worsens, all right? And you might suggest to Jourdain to limit access down here to only those we know we can trust." "Don't worry Mage, Reinald will do fine." Corvay turned his head to observe the scene at the bedside. "He's doing better than Jourdain," he remarked with sympathy. There was no adequate reply to make. Mulder merely nodded and then made his way out of the dungeon. - - - - - Lita had indeed already prepared their chamber for night when he got back. The torches were lit, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and the table was set for dinner. He lifted the lid of the pot set on the hearth coals - looked like some kind of soup. He sniffed it appreciatively. Lately his appetite had been enormous. Rather inconvenient, with the food shortages becoming worse and worse. There's your incredible timing again, Mulder, he said to himself. He ladled out some soup and sipped several spoonfuls of the hot, savory liquid. The edge off his hunger, he now took the time to pick up the knife and start slicing the warm loaf of black bread on the cutting board. After the fifth slice, he put the knife down and flexed his right hand. Strange, he thought. The pins and needles sensation in his hand and the numbness in his fingertips must be some kind of side effect to Gate building - little wonder, all that raw energy coursing down his arms and out his fingers. He picked up a slice of bread and munched on it thoughtfully for a minute or two. It was as he lifted the spoon to his lips again that the first pain hit him. "Aaaaghh!" Mulder's face contorted in torment as a spasm twisted his stomach, leaving him shaking and sweating when it passed a few seconds or an eternity later. He struggled for breath, feeling like he couldn't get enough air. Now both hands felt numb, and his lips and his feet. He focused his thoughts. "Scully, I need you...poison...." He got no further. This time the pain drove him to his knees, leaving him helpless to do anything other than grab his abdomen and scream in agony. His chest got tighten and tighter, until it was just too hard to fight against the pain and the tightness anymore, and he welcomed oblivion as a friend. - - - - - "Aldara, the only thing you can do is to be there for him." Scully sat across the table from her friend, rubbing her right hand absently. "It's thankless, it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do, but you can't force the issue. He'll just freeze you out. When he's ready and he needs you enough, he'll come to you and you'll be there for him." Scully looked at her friend with sympathy. "Believe me, I've been there and I know." Aldara smiled sadly. "I just wish I could do more." Scully nodded. "I know exactly -" Suddenly she went dead white and grabbed her midsection, barely containing a scream of pain. "Oh, God, Mulder!" she breathed. As much as she hated herself for it, she shielded herself from him. She couldn't help him if she were writhing on the floor, sharing his agony. "Aldara, get Corvay, quick! Mulder's been poisoned and I think he's dying. Bring Corvay to our chamber. Go!" She ran until her sides ached and her lungs burned. She burst into their chamber and to Mulder's side on the floor by the table. He was unconscious, cyanotic and barely breathing, twitching from time to time as spasms continued to wrack his body. Damn, Mulder, don't die, please, she pleaded. She started mouth to mouth resuscitation, seeing his color improve slightly after a few minutes. In contact with him, she entered his mind and body as a healer, easily finding the toxins that were ravaging his body. Plant alkaloids. Neurotoxins. Probably from poisonous mushrooms. I can do this, she told herself. I've learned this. Frantically, she mentally searched through her repertoire of healing spells and chants, looking for the one which would eliminate this poison. She seized on it, gave Mulder a few more breaths, then started the chant. She didn't notice when Corvay and Aldara ran breathless into the room. She noticed only that another voice took up the chant, adding strength, helping her first to visualize, then to destroy the toxins that were killing her life-bondmate. Aldara put the potion they had brought with them onto the fire to heat. All three would need the restorative when the chant was finished. She looked at the Mage. He had lost the alarming blue color he had when they arrived and seemed to be breathing by himself now. He and the healers continued to endure spasms of pain which occasionally wrung an involuntary gasp from them. Finally, after more than an hour, the chant slowed to a stop, and the healers sagged with exhaustion. Mulder lay pale and quiet on the floor, breathing normally. Aldara pulled on the braided cord on the wall. Within a minute or two Lita was there. Together they got Mulder into bed. Then they assisted the healers to armchairs and poured the restorative potion. They held the cups to the healers' lips until they had regained enough strength to drink unassisted. Eyes blazing, Aldara turned on Lita. "Tell me about your dinner preparations. Did they include poison?" Lita drew back, horrified at first, then the elven temper flared. She met Aldara's glare and snapped, "I prepared the food and the room as I always do. No one was here, so I have no witnesses. But I didn't do it! The Travellers are my responsibility. Whoever did this has made me their enemy, and I will see to it that they pay dearly." "Aldara, Lita didn't do it," Scully said wearily. "She has no reason to do it. We're often not here when she prepares the room for the night. There's no lock on the door, anyone could have come in and added the poison to the soup." Corvay piped up. "Especially if they knew that you would be occupied elsewhere. This may have been another reason for drugging Reinald - to make sure you would be out of the room so there would be an opportunity to poison the food." He paused. "Scully, someone hates Mage Mulder. This is one of the most painful poisons in our world, and from the amount in his bloodstream, there was enough to kill him ten times over. Whoever did this wanted him to die horribly." Staring into the fire, Scully just nodded. To reassure herself more than for any other reason, she touched Mulder's mind gently and felt only refreshing, dreamless sleep. No pain. She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking. "Scully, I'm going unless you need me," Aldara said in a low voice. "I'll tell Jourdain what happened." Again, Scully nodded. Tearing her eyes from the fire, she looked at her and said, "Thanks, Aldara, for everything. And good luck." Aldara smiled and left. Lita started clearing away the supper things, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Lita, are you all right?" The elf nodded and bit her lip. "I'm just so sorry." "It wasn't your fault, Lita," Scully said firmly. "Everything's fine now. If you want to help, you could bring us more food, and some tea. I don't trust the tea that's here." Happy to be able to do something useful, Lita cleared the remains of the food that had been left for Mulder and bustled out. In the companionable silence, in the calm that followed the frantic activity to save Mulder's life, the inevitable reaction began to set in and some slow tears made their way down Scully's cheeks. Corvay, concerned, reached out and took her hand. Scully wiped the tears away with the back of her other hand. "Don't mind me, Corvay, I usually get shaky after the fireworks are over." She tried to smile, but her chin started to quiver. "It was so close," she whispered, the tears threatening once again. Corvay held her for a few minutes, reaching in, touching her mind, bolstering it with the support of friendship and a healing chant. Scully sighed, and smiled. "Thanks don't seem enough but they're all I have. Thank you for Mulder's life,' she said simply. "You'd probably better get back to your other patient now." He got down from the chair. "You're a true healer now, Scully. You did everything perfectly, including pulling down your own shield. If you hadn't, you'd both be dead, you know that, don't you?" She nodded. Corvay continued, "Anyway, I didn't save him. You did. I'll check with you in the morning to see how he's doing." As the healer went out the door, Lita came in, carrying a pot of soup, bread, tea, and several delicacies they hadn't seen in quite some time. "Don't worry, Traveller. I have tasted all this food myself, and it is safe. I found a few of his favorites, maybe it will tempt him to eat again." "Thank you, Lita. You're a lifesaver." She smiled warmly at the servant as she left. When Lita had gone, she went to Mulder's bedside and checked him. She could have done it psychically from across the room, but suddenly needed the reassurance of seeing him with her eyes and touching him with her hands. Satisfied he was doing well, she sat at the table and forced the first few bites down her throat. Then she found she was really quite hungry, and ate well. She saved half the food and made some daytime tea, feeling she needed the energy. She heard Mulder stirring, and poured some restorative potion into a cup and brought it to him. His eyes were open and he was attempting to sit up. He was pale, drawn and weak, but otherwise showed no sign of how close he had come to death only a couple of hours before. "Let me help." Scully assisted him to sit up and propped his back with pillows. She kept a steadying hand on the cup as he lifted it shakily to his lips. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked up at her from under his lashes. "Only too well - eidetic memory, remember?" he said weakly, with a fair attempt at a smile. Then he sobered. "Unbelievable pain, and I couldn't breathe, and I called you, and - and then you shut down on me, Dana. Why?" His eyes weren't accusing, they merely reflected hurt. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Mulder," she whispered, crawling into bed beside him. "I felt like I was abandoning you. But you weren't shielding at all. Even before you called to me, I was having the same pain and difficulty breathing you were having. I couldn't help you that way, I couldn't even move. I knew I had to get here and get into a healing mode. I didn't WANT to drop that shield, I HAD to, or neither of us would have survived." She looked at him anxiously. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm sorry. I should have known it was something like that. I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time." She wasn't shielding now, and Mulder saw only too clearly what was going through her mind. "No! Dana, no!" he said, appalled. She didn't pretend not to understand him. "I only thought about it for a second, when I first found you. It just flashed into my mind how hard it would be to go on if...if you died. And how easy it would be...just to remove my shield while you were dying, and...and be with you. But it was only for a moment, Mulder...I - I don't think I would have done it." Mulder looked shaken. "This is the kind of thing I've been afraid of since the first time Reinald mentioned this life- bond. Is that possible - that just by not shielding yourself, you could die as well?" She nodded. "Corvay has been extremely informative on the subject. Theoretically, you could shield, if you were in any condition to do so, to try to prevent my being with you. But yes, it's not only possible, it's often what happens among life- bondmates, especially those who have been validated for a long time. The whole concept of life without the other becomes, over time, unthinkable. In some cases, physically impossible." Mulder took her hands in his. "Dana, you've got to promise me you'll never seriously consider doing anything like that ever again. Promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll shield yourself, you'll go on." She regarded him quietly for several moments. "Can you honestly promise me the same thing?" For a long time he was motionless, eyes down, focused on nothing in particular while he considered his thoughts. When he did raise his eyes, it was to look directly into hers. "No, I can't. I can't promise that." She shrugged and sadly smiled. - - - - - Mulder was up even before Lita arrived the next morning. Most of the ill-effects from the previous day were gone. Last night he had nibbled at some of the food Lita had brought, but had not eaten much, his lack of appetite stemming less from his being poisoned than it did the conversation he had had with Scully. He had always considered the bond in terms of what losing her would do to him emotionally. He hadn't seriously considered what it might do to her emotionally, or what it could do physically to either one of them. Now there was a whole new set of life-defining questions and decisions, things that they needed to come to terms with quickly in view of the perilous times. He had slept little, with long periods of tossing and turning, the life-bond - or death-bond - issue churning in his mind. His only respite had been the times when he had reached for her and they had made love with an almost manic passion, so mindful were they of what they had nearly lost. He had washed and dressed and was seated in an armchair, checking through one of Reinald's tomes on spells when Lita tapped and entered. She took in the shadowy shape of Scully through the filmy bedcurtains, and quietly made her way down the length of the room to the hearth. "It's good to see you up, Mage, I hope you're feeling better. I've brought breakfast, and it's been tested," Lita whispered, laying the food on the table. "Thanks, Lita. No bath this morning, I've already washed," he responded in a low voice, and gave her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Mage? You seem - not yourself this morning, if you'll forgive my saying so." "Just a little tired, Lita. Don't worry about it." "Very well. I'll be back later to clean up." The little elf quietly closed the door behind her. Mulder poured tea and absently ate some bread and fruit, never looking up from his scrutiny of the book until he felt Scully's presence behind him. She leaned over and put her arms around his neck, stroking his cheek with her own. He closed the book, turned, and his strong arms drew her into his lap. For a long time neither of them said anything. Although neither was shielding, they did not seek each other's thoughts, perhaps already knowing what they were, perhaps discomfited enough by their own. "I'm so scared, Dana," Mulder mumbled into her hair. "I'm so scared of losing you." "I know, love. Me, too." Scully caressed his cheek, and they were quiet for a while. Some minutes passed, then she said softly, "I read a line in a book once that I've always remembered. I don't know what the title of the book was or the story or anything else, but I've always remembered the line, which said 'The only sin love can commit is to be joyless'. " She paused for a few seconds. "We can't let our fear of losing each other take away the joy, Mulder. If we do, there's no point to the life-bond, there's no point to anything." She looked up at him, her eyes peaceful. He entered her mind then, seeking the calm, the serenity that was reflected in her eyes, letting the reason of her mind nurture and comfort his, drawing on her courage to sustain him. They remained motionless, locked in each other's embrace, locked in each other's mind. Finally, Mulder sighed, with joy and contentment this time, and kissed her lips gently. "You need to eat. Lita will be back soon and we have to hit the road. Before we go, I have to do a little spell casting. I've just been looking for the best one for our purposes." Scully gave him a little squeeze, then moved to the table and started eating. "Where are we going first?" "Well, Tarnor annotated his list. He seemed to think our best bet is someone called Baalmas in the elven village of Wishalla, which isn't too far from here. Scully, I want you to go armed. I have no idea what to expect, but I want to be prepared for anything. If nothing else, maybe we can do a 'little winning through intimidation'. I don't for a moment think anyone is going to confess they made up the spell for Grejor, not unless they have some kind of death wish. It may be enough just to find out Grejor was nosing around about such a spell, and hopefully find out something about it so we can figure out how to remove it." Scully hurried finished her breakfast, washed and dressed. She strapped on her sword and stuck her dagger down her right boot. "Okay, Mulder, I'm ready." He, too, was ready, just finishing buckling the clasp of his Mage cloak. "I shouldn't say so, but I hate this thing. It gets twisted around my legs, I can't mount my horse properly, and it's so damn ostentatious. But I suppose I have to dress the part. Okay, Scully, stand directly in front of me. I have carefully researched and come up with a little something that I think will assist us to 'watch our backs' as Tarnor so helpfully suggested." His eyes on Reinald's book propped on the table, he spread his arms wide with his hands up. In the long cloak, he reminded Scully strongly of the priests she had watched in her youth from a rear pew of a crowded church. He muttered the incantation. The electric-blue flames coursed down his body and up his arms to arc between his upraised hands and enclose the two of them in a cocoon of power. Scully felt a tingling sensation all over her body and shivered a little. Finally, as Mulder's incantation wound to a close, the electric blue faded to almost white, adding what appeared to be another layer to their auras. The tingling sensation remained, though at a less irritating level. Mulder opened his eyes and lowered his arms. "That should do it." "How long will it last?" asked Scully. "And what precisely is it supposed to do?" "Theoretically, it's supposed to act as a kind of shield, preventing most things from getting through - tangible things like knives as well as intangible things like spells. It should last until the sun goes down, at least if I've read Reinald's book correctly. Sometimes some of the language is kind of representational or symbolic, so it's hard to tell. Ready?" "'Theoretically', Mulder?" He smiled at her. They went down to the stables to get their horses. After a good-natured argument about who was going to be responsible for navigation, Scully got directions for finding all the places on Tarnor's list. At least as far as she was concerned, this significantly increased their chances of being back at the castle before the spell wore off. ----------------- The village of Wishalla was an hour's easy ride away. The weather had turned grayer, colder and windier in the past several weeks, and Mulder and Scully were looking forward to the inevitable tea when they arrived. Following custom, they stopped first at the house of the village chief to announce their arrival, offer their good wishes and state their business. After tea was served, they asked for the location of Baalmas' house. The elf chief's eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and he spat on the dirt floor. "By your aura, Mage, you are honorable and powerful. Why would you want to have anything to do with Baalmas?" Mulder soothed the chief and got the directions he was looking for. The elf concluded his meeting with them as quickly as hospitality would allow. "Not a popular guy, this Baalmas, " Mulder commented to Scully. They were approaching the outskirts of the village, and easily found Baalmas' hut. Scully insisted on preceding Mulder into the windowless hovel. Inside, it was dark and there was a pervasive rank odor, an odor of dead things. They found the Mage looking over some books by the light of a single candle. He was tiny, even for an elf, but had a dissipated look about him they had yet to see in the Realm. His appearance was not helped by the fact that he was missing his left eye. He ignored them for as long as he dared, then turned to Mulder. "To what do I owe this honor?" he sneered. "We're looking for information. Information that I think it would be in your best interest to share with us," Mulder began. "And what makes you think it's in my interest to share anything with you?" snapped Baalmas. "I know Reinald had nothing to do with the Prince's spell. When he is released, he's going to be very angry with the people responsible - very angry indeed. Together our powers are formidable, as you can imagine. I think you'll rest easier, knowing that you cooperated." Mulder regarded him blandly. Baalmas looked at the him, considered the power of his aura, and Reinald's reputation. He picked up a cup and hurled it in frustration across the room to smash against a wall. The suddenness and violence of his action alarmed Scully, who pulled her dagger and had it at Baalmas' throat almost before the shards of the cup had hit the floor. His one eye bulged out of his head and he babbled in terror. "No, please, spare me, Mage. Call off this warrior. Please, I'll tell you what I know." Mulder signed to Scully and she shoved Baalmas onto the one chair in the room. He nervously licked his lips. "Someone from the castle came to me many days ago, seeking a spell that could render someone ineffective. I know such spells, but I didn't trust this person not to give me away, so I refused to help him." "Who was it? Was it Mage-Apprentice Grejor?' demanded Scully. He looked at her for a few seconds and finally nodded. "Yes. He didn't tell me the intended recipient of the spell and I didn't want to know. The less I know, the better. Anyway, he got no spell from me." "So who did you send him to see?" asked Mulder. Baalmas looked at him resentfully, then mumbled a name. "Zoalstra. I told him to go to Zoalstra. She's mad, it would never even occur to her to fear for her life. She'd cast such a spell for any reason or for none, it makes no difference to her." "Where can we find Zoalstra?" "The last I heard she was in Blackforest Township, half a day's ride from here. Just don't tell her that I sent you. She's mad, she'd turn me into a bug just for the fun of it." He shuddered. "Our silence depends on your cooperation," said Scully. "We want you at the trial. You may not even have to testify, but we want you there. It starts in five days. If we do not see you there, you won't have to worry about this Zoalstra turning you into a bug" - she indicated Mulder - "he'll do it himself, and save her the trouble. Do we understand each other?" His expression made his hatred of them quite clear, but he grudgingly nodded. "Aye, I'll be there." They left the hovel and walked back into the village. "So what was that, Scully - Bad Cop/Bad Cop?" He smiled over at her. She shrugged. "Don't argue with success, Mulder." Not trusting Baalmas' directions, they confirmed the way to Blackforest Township by asking the village chief and set out immediately. They made good time and arrived in the mid afternoon. Finding Zoalstra was more of a problem, as the inhabitants of the gargoyle settlement appeared terrified of her and were reluctant to point them in her direction. Finally, a few folk were convinced by the power of Mulder's aura and they were directed to the hut. If anything, Zoalstra's hut made Baalmas' look like a palace. There was a pall of pure evil in and about the place, a stomach-turning stench that nothing could eradicate. Nothing within a hundred feet of the hut lived - not a tree, not an insect, not a blade of grass. The gargoyle looked normal enough, except for the lunatic glint in her eye. "And what can I do for you, Mage? Come to trade spells with me, perhaps?" She chuckled nastily. "We've come to ask if you assisted an acquaintance of ours with a spell," Mulder said. "Oh, I assist many. Perhaps if you described him..." "A young human, smaller than me. Brown hair, brown eyes. From Fairwood Keep." At the last clue, her eyes flickered with recognition. "I do seem to recall someone like that. Now what did he need help with?" Seeing she had their complete attention, she was not about to lose it. "What was it, now - maybe help finding a lost valuable, perhaps. No, no that wasn't it. What was it?" She continued to play the kindly eccentric, stringing them along. Finally, Scully tired of it and began to investigate some of the objects in the hovel. "Now what was it, if I could only remem- Hey, what is it you're doing there? Stay away from my things!" Her voice had risen to a scream that could shatter glass. "Mulder, take a look." Scully removed the lid from a tiny pot to reveal what looked like several human eyeballs. "No! Leave that alone - you'll spoil it!" The infuriated gargoyle began to shriek. "Get out! You've ruined it, it's no good anymore. You'll pay. I'll see to it you pay!" Moving like lightning, she pickled up a long thin knife from the table and threw it at Scully's back. Scully reacted quickly and dived for cover while withdrawing her own dagger. But the stiletto struck Scully's spell-enhanced aura and ricocheted back at Zoalstra. The blade stuck her mid-chest with such force that she was pinned to the wall behind her. She died immediately. "You alright, Scully?' asked Mulder anxiously. "Yeah." Scully removed the stiletto from the wall and the gargoyle's body slumped to the floor. "She won't make much of witness, however." "No," admitted Mulder, looking at the black magician's body distastefully. "But then again, I don't think she would have anyway, even if she had been alive. And we may have just done this settlement a service. We'd better go find the chief and tell him what happened." The explanation didn't take long, and Mulder had correctly deduced the village's reaction. General rejoicing broke out as the word spread. Mulder and Scully were showered with food and flasks of tea for the journey back to Fairwoods. Zoalstra's body and her hovel were set ablaze. They lost no time in setting out. There was no way now that they would be back at the castle before dark, a fact which worried Scully greatly. After two hours they stopped by the side of a small creek to rest and water the horses while there was still a little light, and had some tea and food themselves. When the last rays of the sun faded from view, they remounted and urged their horses into a fast trot down the narrow road illuminated by the two moons. They were nearly back at Fairwoods when Scully noticed that her skin was no longer tingling. "Mulder?" "I know. I would guess that we're no longer shielded. Well, it was nice while it lasted." Mulder glanced at Scully, who was suddenly alert and looking around. "What is it?" Scully drew her sword and said grimly, "I think it's soul-eaters. I can't see or hear them, but I can feel their presence. Let's get going, Mulder." The horses needed little urging to break into a gallop; they has also sensed the creatures. They outran the pack and eventually slowed, only to sense another. "What the hell is going on? They shouldn't be this close to the castle," Scully murmured. Again they spurred their horses. This time, however, before they outran the second pack, they had picked up a third. The battlements of the castle were in sight when suddenly, they were running for their lives. Scully's horse screamed as two soul-eaters converged on it, their claws raking its flanks. Her sword flashed, decapitating one of the monsters and slashing the other deeply across its ribs. Mulder concentrated what energy he could while riding at a gallop, stunning two more of the creatures and having the satisfaction of seeing them drop in their tracks. The last soul- eater persisted in chasing them all the way to the castle portcullis, when Scully turned in her saddle and impaled it on her sword. She tipped the weapon, letting the creature's body slide to the ground, even while her horse never broke stride in its race to get through the portcullis to safety. They flew through the gate which crashed down behind them, and slid to a stop in the courtyard. They dismounted, dirty, disheveled and panting. Mulder looked at Scully, liberally splashed with the blood of soul-eaters, her hair, freed from its braid, wild around her face. "I'll say this, Scully - a date with you is never boring." ----------------- As the day of the trial approached, Fairwoods Keep was filled to bursting. For days there had been a constant parade of Council Representatives and their entourages arriving at the castle, needing food, shelter and stabling. Many of the Representatives were accompanied by hundreds of kinsmen, militia members and camp followers, sometimes in an attempt to impress onlookers and rivals with mere numbers, but more often simply for security during the trip. As Mulder and Scully had found, the woods were alive with soul-eaters. The Representatives of other species who had come the furthest distance had brought their entire armies with them, realizing that the time was soon approaching when their armies would be activated and called to Fairwood for deployment on the field of battle. Everyone felt the spectre of the Prophecy and knew that time was short before the Realm would be forced to fight for its survival. Prince Mavor was one such leader. An elven Prince who had journeyed two hundred miles to attend the Council, he would have been making his way to Fairwoods in any case. His fine-boned, almost gaunt, aristocratic features were calm and serious as he and his general Karvan led hundreds of elven cavalry troops, clothed in yellow leather and silver armor. Elves were famed for their horsemanship both on and off the field of battle, and the addition of these troops would give Jourdain one more force for the Dark Realm to reckon with. Meanwhile, the noble houses squabbled continually amongst themselves. The House of Dordinal schemed with the House of Maalfees against the House of Ranfaus, then Maalfees would align with Ranfaus against Dordinal in an endless dance of changing partners. Aldara's internal security forces had been hard pressed to keep the hot-blooded guards of each of the Houses from each others' throats, and were constantly breaking up fistfights, swordplay and duels between noble cliques. The day before the trial was difficult on all involved, the only positive being that Reinald had recovered from the effects of his drugging and was completely back to normal. Otherwise the news was uniformly unpleasant. There had been further attacks in the eastern part of the Realm by Hunters and Destroyers in addition to which two Representatives and their entire entourages had been slaughtered on their journey to the castle. Grejor was still missing, and Mulder and Scully had been unable to unearth any more evidence to support Reinald. Jourdain had spent the day meeting with Mulder, Reinald, and the various species leaders and generals all day, trying to come up with a battle strategy that was both effective and agreeable to all parties. This seemed less and less likely with each successive meeting. Meanwhile, Aldara's forces had broken up at least forty seven fights that day, some caused by overcrowding, some by interspecies tensions, and most by the noble houses instigating trouble. Later that night, Aldara prepared a simple supper for herself in her remote quarters. She was exhausted, depressed and very troubled. Cherishing her friend's advice and support, she had spoken briefly to Scully that morning, expressing the terrible depth of her worry about Jourdain and the responsibility he was handling. From the moment of Reinald's arrest, he had remained remote, tightly coiled, keeping himself rigidly controlled. Aldara knew it was mostly a facade; as she had a good idea of the hell he was going through. It was probably too early in their relationship to hope for, but not for the first time she wished that he trusted her enough, felt comfortable enough to share his feelings with her, to let her ease some of his burden. In fact, Aldara thought bitterly, it was too early in their relationship to even be sure they had a relationship. There was a tap on her door, so soft she wasn't even sure she had heard it. She opened it, expecting anything but the huge form of Jourdain on the threshold. "Jourdain! Please come in. Have you eaten?" Jourdain threw himself into a chair by the hearth and sighed. She pressed a mug of tea into his hand which he sipped at automatically, appreciating the little boost it gave him. Aldara allowed the silence to continue as she set an extra place at the table, dished out stew, and sliced bread. "Come and eat, Jourdain." The big man moved slowly to the table and sat on the rough wooden bench. "Thank you, Aldara." They ate in silence, Jourdain still distracted by his thoughts of battle plans, his friend's trial and his possible role as executioner. He didn't eat well, but still better than he had since Reinald's arrest. When he had finished, Aldara cleared the dishes away as he remained at the table, leaning on his elbows, supporting his aching head in his hands. Aldara washed the dishes, wiped down the table and added another log on the fire, all in silence. Finally, she sat in a chair at the hearth, staring into the fire. The silent minutes stretched out. Jourdain wrenched his mind from the difficulties of the day and observed Aldara. In the light of the fire, she was beautiful, her appearance deceptively fragile. Suddenly he realized what her quiet, unwavering, undemanding support meant to him, and what it had cost her. "I love you, Aldara," Jourdain whispered hoarsely. "I've no right to say it, but I love you and I need you." Aldara sat very still for a moment, hoping she had heard correctly. She stood and slowly crossed to him, and standing behind him, began to massage the tense muscles of his neck with her small but strong hands. He groaned a little and sagged back against her. After a few minutes, he reached back, captured her hands and brought them to his lips. "Aldara?" "Yes, Jourdain?" Her reply was quiet, calm. Circling her wrist with his hand, he pulled her down to sit next to him on the bench. "Aldara, did I say something wrong?" "No...no, you said something I've been waiting to hear all my life." Her emerald eyes were huge, loving, trusting. Gently he reached out to stroke her cheek, then his hand went to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled deep in her ebony curls as he closed the distance between them. His lips were soft on hers until, impatient with his gentleness, Aldara nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss. He made a sound of surprise in his throat and returned her passion, letting her set the pace. After some minutes, she broke away to catch her breath. His lips found the tips of her ears and she gasped softly. He had discovered how sensitive her ears were mostly by accident the one and only time he had kissed her. If Mulder and Scully had not chosen that time to visit, things would have quickly gotten out of control. Out of control was definitely where things were headed now. He tongued and sucked the tips of her ears, sending her into a paroxysm of need. She unbuckled his belt and her own with unsteady fingers, discarding leather and weapons on the floor. Her hands reached into his tunic and under his shirt, stroking the broad chest with its mat of curly dark hair. He brought her tunic over her head, adding it to the heap of discarded articles on the floor by their feet, and pulled her shirt from where it was tucked into her breeches. Lifting her in his arms, he stood, crossed the room and gently laid her on the bed, sitting beside her. He sat for a few seconds, just looking at her, knowing himself to be fortunate to have her love and trust. And then suddenly he was afraid. "Jourdain. What is it?" Aldara sat up, touching his face, his chest, alarmed at the look of concern and fear on his face. "I want you so badly, Aldara." His voice was tight. Etched into his features, his need was no secret. "I want you too, Jourdain." He kissed her softly, his hands skimming lightly over her curves, and wondered how he was going to ask what he needed to know. "Aldara, you've not-" He stopped, not knowing how to go on. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue, then realized what it was that he was asking. "No, I haven't. Does that matter?" He gathered her in his arms and held her close, savoring her warmth, her return embrace. "I'm so afraid of hurting you," he whispered. She smiled, and pulled away from him far enough that he could see her face. "I love you, Jourdain, and I want this. Stop worrying, please." He searched her face, a little reassured by her lack of fear, but knowing that it was based mostly on naiveté and blind trust in him. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I'm not a child." Her smile broadened and she snuggled close to him, her lips near his ear, her breath tickling and caressing at the same time. "Besides, you do that with my ears again, and you're going to have to worry about my hurting you!" she purred provocatively. Jourdain chuckled in his throat, kissed her deeply, then moved slowly and deliberately to her lovely pointed ears. - - - - - "We feel like we've let you down, Tarnor." Tarnor shook his head. "You've done better than I had dared hope. We have Baalmas and we have the evidence of Grejor's aura. I don't think Drellor has a clue that we have any kind of defense to mount, so that's in our favor, too. Grejor's time as a witness will be critical - first, that we have correctly deduced that he is the main prosecution witness, and secondly, to see how his aura behaves under questioning. Prince Mavor of the elves is here. He is reputed to have the most sensitive eye for auras in the kingdom. He will be a very powerful impartial witness to corroborate what Lita has to say about the aural changes. And then we have several character witnesses, yourselves included, who can swear to Reinald's affection for the boy. I don't see what more we can do." Scully sighed. "I'm just concerned about any tricks that Grejor could play. Is there any way he can disguise his aura, or anything like that?" She looked at Mulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, eyes seemingly focused somewhere across the room. Finally he shook his head. "Reinald doesn't know of anything that could disguise or camouflage it. But Grejor's familiarity with unscrupulous Mages who practice the Black Arts has me worried. I suppose it's possible that one of them might know a few tricks Reinald doesn't. After all, who, other than someone who is doing something wrong, would want to disguise his aura?" Mulder began pacing around the room. "The one thing that cheers me up is the fact that Grejor seems to have made a conscious effort to avoid Lita around the time of the Prince's spell. That tells me that he was afraid she would see the changes in his aura and wonder why." "In any case, I've got to be ready to pounce on Grejor as soon as he finishes testifying for the prosecution," Tarnor said. "I don't want to give him another opportunity to disappear." "Oh, he won't disappear, Jourdain will make sure of that," Scully said. "He has already assigned three or four men to do nothing but keep track of Grejor's whereabouts, just as soon as he surfaces." "Tarnor, you said you have more evidence than you expected. But is it enough?" Mulder asked. "You know your legal system, we don't. Do you have enough to save Reinald's life?" The gargoyle shrugged. "I don't know. It's always difficult trying to predict how the noble houses and other factions will vote. Even if it were up to the more impartial non-human species, it would be very close indeed. I'm hoping that Grejor will confess. Maybe seeing Baalmas ready to testify or having Lita testify to the aural changes will make him see the futility of his position. That's what I'm hoping - not necessarily what I'm expecting." "Is there anything more we can do?" "Just be there, though you can miss the first part. As with all of our other traditions and customs, there's a long ritual before anything happens, and then a judge is chosen. The judge is mostly a ceremonial position, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone chosen who is either on our side or is impartial. If we can get the right judge, it would help tremendously." Tarnor smiled at them. "For a change, we're in a good position there - as Defender Royal, I get to make the first nomination for judge. Drellor will probably try to refute it and make his own nomination. It's my job to come up with someone who Drellor can't refute without looking bad. Which is how I'm going to spend the rest of the night." He rose from the table, gathering his parchment documents in his hand, and moved to the door. "We'll be there, Tarnor. Good night." They closed the door behind him. "How do you think- " Scully began. Mulder stopped her with his lips. After a minute or so, he murmured, "Not another word. We've worked hard since very early this morning. We can't do anything more right now. The rest of tonight is for us. Agreed?" Scully smiled. "Agreed." ----------------- At dawn, the castle came alive. The day was cold and windy, but the sun made an appearance which was all too rare these days. The smoke from the cooking fires hung in the air, and the clank of armor rang out, as soldiers were arrayed in full battle dress, and everyone else dressed in the traditional garments of their occupation or station in life. Shortly after breakfast, there was a general thronging to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was an enormous room, now used little except for coronations and other major ceremonies. It was almost three hundred feet in both length and width, with lofty vaulted ceilings. Huge dark wooden beams, painted with intricate designs, crossed the ceiling, and the walls were hung with tapestries and with banners representing the major religious groups, the non-human species and the noble houses, past and present. In the very center of the room were three large chairs, set facing each other in a triangle. Surrounding them were three concentric rings of smaller chairs, about 50 in all. The inner ring would be taken by witnesses and the Prosecutor and Defender Royal, and the outer two rings by the Council Representatives. The rest of the room contained stands, taken from storage and set up in the past few days by the castle workmen, where most of the spectators were even now taking their places. It was still early morning when the stands were filled to the breaking point. Outside, the trumpets and bagpipes swirled their fanfares, a different one to honor each of the Council Representatives, as they and their retainers took their place in the procession to enter the Great Hall. The crowd watched in awed silence, not privy to such a display since the coronation of their late king a generation ago. To trumpet and drum beat, the procession made its way from the gigantic doors, down the aisle, and filling the seats that had been set aside for them. The order was strictly followed. First, the heads of the major religious groups were seated. Then came the human clans, with the most ancient of clans taking place of honor, followed by the next most ancient, and so on. Unfortunately, this meant that often seatmates were fierce rivals, and a certain amount of pushing and shoving was going on. Last came the Representatives of the non- human species, conducting themselves with considerably more decorum. Next, the witnesses filed in, led by Drellor and Tarnor. Mulder and Scully had decided to attend the entire trial and took their places in line, Mulder dressed in his Mage cloak, and Scully in her warrior green leather with a brown hood to denote her unique dual status. They were near the beginning of the line, following Jourdain and Aldara. Grejor, who had finally resurfaced and was looking about him anxiously, was somewhere near the middle. Some witnesses were missing from the procession by design, such as Lita and Baalmas. Tarnor had decided to appear weak and defenseless to Drellor at first, and then spring the witnesses on him, hoping to catch the Prosecutor Royal by surprise. Finally, Reinald was led in by a guard, to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some hooted and called for his head, others were quite touching in the support that they shouted from the stands. As, the accused Mage took one of the three central chairs, the crowd quieted. Drellor and Tarnor remained standing. They started chanting in sing-song voices in a language that Mulder and Scully did not understand. Scully looked questioningly at Aldara. "This is an ancient form of our language, reserved for important ceremonies," she whispered. "I don't understand more than a few words of it myself, and most people don't know it at all." Scully nodded her thanks. After a while, she began to realize why Tarnor had advised that they skip the first part of the trial. The chanting seemed to go on for hours, sometimes taken up by some of the nobles. Occasionally, she could discern chants in other languages, and her puzzled look brought answers from Aldara, that the languages were the original tongues of the Elves, Trolls and Gargoyles, who now all spoke the one major language of the Realm. She looked over at Mulder, who generally had a very low tolerance for ceremony. He looked as if he were giving it his closest attention, but a quick look into his mind proved otherwise. Scully didn't understand much of what was going on in there, but it appeared he and Reinald were in communication, applying themselves to finding a way to reverse the Prince's spell. Scully left Mulder's mind as unobtrusively as she could. She turned her attention to Aldara and Jourdain, sitting more closely together than necessitated by the arrangement of the chairs. He seemed a little less haunted by the spectre of the trial, and she had a softer, less guarded look. Scully cured her boredom by speculating on the cause for the change in her friends, until finally the chanting stopped. Drellor sat down and Tarnor took a sip of water. Then he announced, "As dictated by our laws and our traditions, I claim my right to name a judge." He bowed deeply to Drellor and to Reinald. In a more conversational tone, indicating a part of the ceremony that wasn't scripted, he said, "I have put much thought into my choice for judge. I wanted someone impartial, someone who commands respect, who is held in the highest esteem by both his own people and others as well. I realize I am breaking with tradition slightly in my choice, for he is a non- human. I ask for approval to name Prince Mavor judge in this matter." Tarnor sat down to the buzzing of the spectators and shouts of rage by some of the nobles. Drellor stayed seated, his mind trying to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. He had assumed that Tarnor would ask Mulder to be judge, and he had prepared all his arguments against Tarnor's choice based on that assumption. Prince Mavor! What was Tarnor up to? Prince Mavor would indeed be impartial, and was respected, and was of royal blood - elf blood to be sure, but still royal. Drellor knew he risked a revolt of the hot-tempered elves if he tried to refute Tarnor's choice. He looked at his little gargoyle rival with a mixture of dislike and new-found respect. He rose. "The Prosecutor Royal can find no good reason why Prince Mavor should not be named judge of these proceedings if it is his wish to so serve." Then Prince Mavor stood and said in his low musical voice, "I am honored and choose to serve." He made his way from his seat with the non-human representatives to the second large chair in the center of the concentric circles and sat down. The chanting began again, this time with Prince Mavor joining in. It lasted a comparatively short time. Then at a signal from Drellor, the witnesses and Representatives filed out of the Great Hall, in search of food and drink to sustain them through the afternoon proceedings. Outside the Great Hall, Mulder and Scully caught up with Tarnor. "Looks like you surprised Drellor with your choice," said Mulder. Tarnor smiled. "A little espionage on my part, I'm afraid. Well, it's not my fault that Drellor has a chatty servant who is not particularly enamored of his master. My servant found out from his servant that Drellor thought I was going to name you as judge." Seeing Mulder's expression of concern, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you were never in any danger. But I was of two minds. I wanted Mavor, but I really didn't want to remove Drellor's false sense of security quite so soon. He may be watching us more closely now than I would prefer. But, it couldn't be helped." "Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that Drellor was wrong," Mulder said with a grin. "I've never pictured myself as a judge." Just then, the elegant Prince Mavor joined the group. Tarnor quickly performed the introductions. Mavor looked at Mulder and Scully, looked away, then looked again, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but, by the gods, this is incredible. A Mage, a Warrior Healer, bonded - by the gods, bonded! - and newly validated!" Mulder stifled a laugh as Scully's mind pictured a huge billboard nailed to the wall of the Keep which listed the most intimate details of their lives. Mavor turned to Tarnor. "Do you realize what this means?" Tarnor nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." "You are the prophesied ones...the Mage bonded to the Warrior Healer. I had heard rumors, of course, but I didn't really believe them. A bonded Mage...incredible!" Prince Mavor moved off to join his courtiers, looking back over his shoulder occasionally as if to assure himself that Mulder and Scully did, in fact, exist. "Isn't it a problem for the Prince to be both judge and possible defense witness?" Scully asked. Tarnor looked at her blankly. "No, why should that be a problem?" Scully shrugged. "No reason, I guess." Tarnor bade them farewell and scurried off to attend to some business. Mulder and Scully spotted Jourdain and Aldara and hurried to catch up with them. The four decided to stop in at the tavern for refreshments. While Mulder and Jourdain were ordering, Scully pulled Aldara through the crowded tavern to an empty table in a dark corner. "Okay, so what happened?" inquired Scully. "I know something happened, so don't try to deny it." Aldara blushed, laughing. "You must be a very good investigator in your world. Or does it show that much?" Scully smiled. "Maybe only to people who know you as well as I do. I'm just really glad you're happy." "Very happy," said Aldara. "Jourdain was wonderful - so caring and sweet." She sighed contentedly, thoughts of the previous night bringing a blush to her cheek once again, then she giggled. "I think I shocked him." Scully laughed. "I'm not going to ask." The women looked up to notice their lovers approaching, and deftly changed the subject. When the men arrived, Aldara and Scully were deep in a conversation about the linguistic changes that had occurred in the long history of the Realm. They moved over on the benches to make room for Mulder and Jourdain, who carried bread, cheese, beer and for Mulder, tea. Jourdain's mood, too seemed lighter. He was extremely pleased by the choice of judge, and by Drellor's confusion. "I had almost begun to regret all those times I insulted Drellor and slammed doors in his face," he said. "I know he was reveling in the idea that I would have to execute Reinald. It will be wonderful to disappoint him." "You certainly sound much more optimistic," observed Scully. "Well, Tarnor selecting Mavor as judge was a masterstroke," he said. "Mavor is very highly thought of. His opinion will influence many of the Representatives. Except the House of Dordinal - they're known to be species bigots - and they weren't likely to side with Reinald in any case, so we haven't lost anything." Jourdain shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel like we might have a chance, that things have turned around and are going to go the way I want them to go." Scully smiled into her beer mug. "What happens this afternoon?" "The prosecution presents its case," Aldara said. "It may run over to tomorrow morning, which would be in our favor, though Drellor may not know that. Grejor will probably be the last prosecution witness, because his testimony will have the most impact. We don't want him to have the opportunity to disappear, so we'd like Grejor to testify tomorrow morning, and Tarnor can follow up immediately." Jourdain grunted. "I have four of my best men keeping an eye on him, but I still don't trust the little rat." He noticed a parade of people headed for the Great Hall and downed the rest of his beer. "We'd better get back." Jourdain and Aldara rose and went out. Mulder caught Scully's arm for a few seconds so they lagged behind their friends. "I know I can contact your mind any time, but I prefer actual talking - most of the time, anyway," Mulder said with a knowing look. "What's going on with Jourdain and Aldara?" "What do you think?" grinned Scully. Mulder smiled back. "The old devil. Good for them. They seem happy." "Don't get carried away by all the romance, Mulder. Let's go back to the Great Hall." There was no procession this time. Everyone found his seat or his place in the stands. When they were filled, Drellor stood. "We are here to bring a terrible criminal to justice. Someone who took advantage of the trust of a small child. Someone who broke a sacred covenant with our Realm. Someone whose arrogance and quest for power led him to commit a horrible crime. I speak of Reinald, Regent of the Realm. Long has he pretended affection for my beloved nephew Prince Andalor, all the while plotting against him, against the Realm, and against the order of succession ordained by our laws and traditions." Drellor hung his head dramatically. "I am so glad my beloved brother King Barnos is dead. If he had lived to see the day when his cherished child was turned to stone to further the ambitions of an unscrupulous, power-hungry Mage - well, I shudder to think." Drellor shuddered for his audience. Scully didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the show Drellor was putting on. The man did not know the meaning of the word subtlety. She touched Mulder's mind to find that he felt the same. In fact, he had reached his saturation point for Drellor's rhetoric, and was in the process of "tuning out" again so he could re-establish contact with Reinald and put his time to good use. Scully kept her eyes on Drellor, but most of her mind was with Mulder and Reinald in their quest to find a way to remove the spell from the young prince. It was just as well Scully kept herself occupied, because Drellor held the floor for almost two hours, expostulating on the evil of Mages in general and Reinald in particular, and on the trusting innocence of Prince Andalor. Tarnor rejoiced with every minute that Drellor extended his oration. It was becoming a certainty that Grejor would not reach the stand until the next morning. Also, it appeared that the length of Drellor's speech, after the long, stultifying ceremony of the morning, might be antagonizing some of the undecided votes among the Representatives. Finally Drellor stopped talking and started calling witnesses. He called a long series of character witnesses, mostly from noble houses and factions which had long been aligned with Drellor and against Reinald. Each witness took the third of the large central chairs and parroted essentially the same testimony, often repeating verbatim what other witnesses had said, that Reinald had abused his position and his powers and had committed treason against the Realm. Although none of the witnesses spoke for very long, there were so many of them that the sun had long since set before the last of them had testified. Finally, Prince Mavor called a halt to the proceedings for the night. "But sir, we have not yet finished presenting our case," babbled Drellor. "I have another witness who must testify, our most important witness." "Prosecutor Royal, you should have thought of that before," declared Mavor. "In any event, a witness so important should be heard when we are fresh. We will stop now and reconvene in the morning." His expression did not invite argument or discussion. "Yes, sir," said Drellor, deflated. Mulder and Scully got up, stretched and started walking back to their chamber. "This inactivity is killing me," groaned Mulder. "I'm going to change and go for a run on the battlements. Want to come?" "No thanks, too cold for me. I can unwind in a nice hot tub." She shivered as a cold, wet wind roared through the courtyard, and Mulder drew her closer to him. "How are you and Reinald coming on something to reverse the Prince's spell?" "We thought of something today, actually. Reinald has been deprived of his books of spells since being arrested, but I committed them to memory and have been a kind of "living book" for Reinald since he regained consciousness. There's a couple of things we're working on. Of course, Reinald has to beat the rap first." "I know, I've been thinking about that. And so has Prince Mavor, by the way," Scully said. "He has very high levels of psi ability, and I was standing quite close to him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop in his mind, but I couldn't help but notice that he has correctly put two and two together. If Reinald is executed, then the Realm is doomed, because there won't be two powerful- enough Mages to combined their powers to defeat the Dark forces. I was wrong before when I thought there were four lives at stake here - everyone's life is at stake, including ours. Mavor understands that. I think that will work in our favor, too." They came at last to their chamber, lit by the fireplace and a couple of flickering torches. Steam rose from the hot water in the big copper tub, and the tea kettle was on the fire. "Need help washing your back, Scully?" "I thought you were going for a run." "You were right, it's pretty cold out. I'll figure out another way to get some exercise." His smile was deceptively innocent. - - - - - The following morning was stormy, with wind-driven sleet making little pinging sounds as it struck armor and shields. The witnesses and Council Representatives did not bother with a procession and fanfares, merely entering the Great Hall with all due speed in an attempt to get warm. When everyone was in place, Drellor called Grejor to the stand. "State your name, birthplace and station, then tell the assembly what you know of Reinald and his crime." "My name is Grejor. I came originally from the village of Cattle Ford in the southern part of the Realm. I am a Mage Apprentice under Mage Reinald and have held that post for seven seasons." Three small cloaked and hooded figures quietly entered the Great Hall and began making their way down the central aisle. Grejor stared at them, distracted. Drellor noticed Grejor's hesitation and impatiently prodded him. "Yes, yes, go on. Tell us of Reinald's crimes." "Well, uhh...many's the time Reinald told me that Andalor was a thorn in his side. That being Regent was a thankless job. That as long as he was going to have to do the job of running the kingdom, he should have the power and title and respect to go along with it." Grejor hesitated once again, as he noticed one of the cloaked figures incline its head toward Tarnor to speak, and Tarnor apparently listening with interest, nodding several times. "Grejor, please pay attention," Drellor demanded. "Your testimony is important." "Yes. I'm sorry...uhhh, where was I ?" "You were telling us how Reinald wasn't satisfied with being Regent," Drellor said through clenched teeth., barely holding on to his temper. "Yes, right." Grejor's attention was still held by the three cloaked figures. He watched them, mesmerized, like a rodent would watch a huge, coiled serpent. "AND..." prompted a furious Drellor. "And - and he - I saw him practicing a spell, many times, using small objects like bottles at first and then living things like birds and cats." Grejor stopped. Visibly trembling now, he swallowed nervously as the cloaked figure spoke again to Tarnor. Drellor smiled, oblivious to the cause of Grejor's discomfiture. "And what happened when Reinald would cast this spell, Grejor? Tell the assembly." He indicated the gathered representatives with a dramatic sweep of his arm. Grejor stared at Tarnor and the three figures. Who the hell were they, and why were they talking to Tarnor? What were they saying about him? "Grejor! Tell the assembly what would happen!" Drellor shouted. "uhhh...uuhhh...the objects would turn to stone," Grejor said in a rush, beads of sweat now standing out on his brow. Prince Mavor stared at Grejor, disgusted, but said nothing. Most of the assembled crowd began to call again for Reinald's head, but many of the elves and the magically sensitive looked on in consternation and began to shake their heads and talk among themselves. Drellor had planned on getting into more detail, but the manner in which Grejor was giving his evidence was not at all as they had rehearsed. He decided to quit while he was ahead. "The witness may go," he said airily, and Grejor was out of his seat in a heartbeat. Tarnor leapt up. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Grejor." Prince Mavor nodded and motioned Grejor back to the witness chair. Grejor looked hunted, trapped. He looked around for any possible alternative to returning to that chair, and saw none. Guards were everywhere. That fool Drellor had promised that this would not happen, had said that once he had told his story for Drellor that he would be free to go back into safe-hiding until it was all over. Grejor shot a look of hatred at Drellor, and returned to the witness chair. Drellor almost stood to argue against Tarnor's request, but looking at Mavor's face thought better of the action, and stayed seated and silent. "Tell us how you came to be Reinald's apprentice," began Tarnor. Grejor relaxed very slightly. "I applied for the post when it came open." "Were you accepted immediately? "I don't know what you mean," Grejor said guardedly. "Well, what I mean is, did Reinald recognize your vast store of Mage energy from your aura, did you dazzle him with your prowess, something like that?" Grejor flushed angrily. "You know very well that wasn't the case, Tarnor. You were there." Tarnor nodded. "Yes, I was but all these other people were not. Please tell the assembly the circumstances of your being chosen." "I don't see what this has to do with anything," growled Grejor. "Nor do I," said Drellor in a stage whisper. Several of his noble cronies snickered. Prince Mavor looked over at Grejor. "Answer the question." He stared at Tarnor with hot, furious eyes. "Reinald couldn't read my aura. He brought in some scullery maid to read it. Between them, they decided my powers were "marginal", but Reinald accepted me anyway." Tarnor walked up to Grejor. "Did you get along well with Reinald?" "He was all right," said Grejor sullenly. "Wasn't he a hero to you, at least until recently?" "All right, that's true," admitted Grejor. "I worked myself into exhaustion for that man, I worked harder than any apprentice he had ever had." "Well, what happened to change your mind?" "It was the black magic, the spells he was practicing. I didn't want to get into any of that stuff. And the way he was talking about Prince Andalor. I had no idea that's who he was going to use the spell on - if I did I would have reported it to someone," Grejor declared. The crowd buzzed, Mavor frowned, and Drellor gloated. The fool Tarnor was making Drellor's case for him. The end should come soon now. "Did you not complain numerous times of the length of time your training was taking?", inquired Tarnor. "I might have. The old man was always picking on me. Nothing I ever did was good enough, everything had to be just so. Even after I learned something, he'd go over it again and again, picking my performance apart, repeating things until I thought I'd go crazy. Sometimes I thought he was delaying my training on purpose." "How long does an apprentice usually spend with a Mage?" "Maybe eight seasons." "You said you had spent seven seasons with Reinald. Does that mean you were about to leave him, that you had almost completed your studies?" Grejor glowered. "No. I had completed barely half my training." "Did you blame Reinald for that?" "I worked hard. He was always against me, he never appreciated me. Sure, I blame him." Tarnor was quiet for a few seconds, glancing back at the three hooded figures and consulting a parchment before him. "You are a Mage Apprentice, so you must know something about auras, am I right?" "A damn sight more than Reinald," declared Grejor, with bravado. Some of the Dordinal nobles laughed. Tarnor just nodded. "I know. Auras were always Reinald's weakness, weren't they? What happens to a person's aura when that person lies or tries to conceal something? Grejor?" The witness merely stared at him, deathly pale, perspiration rolling down his face, in spite of the chilly temperatures. Drellor shot to his feet. His witness was coming apart. Grejor had said something about auras when they had rehearsed his testimony, but he hadn't been able to follow it. "Prince Mavor," he blustered. "You can't allow this kind of question. Magic spells are not allowed in obtaining evidence, and an aura is like a magic spell." Mavor looked at Drellor with distaste. "There is nothing magical about auras. They simply exist, as your hand exists. The fact that some species are unable to see them does not make them supernatural. Now sit down." "Answer the question, Grejor!" Tarnor said in a harsh voice. "Isn't it true that auras undergo characteristic changes when someone tries to hide something?" "An old wives' tale!" babbled Grejor, terrified Tarnor turned and nodded. Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures pulled off her hood. Grejor started as if he had received a jolt of lightning. Lita! He had been afraid of just this situation. He had tried to tell Drellor, but the fool had no idea about auras. ----------------- "Do you want to change your answer?" Tarnor sneered. Grejor was silent and looked at the witness section with hatred. "You are familiar with Lita, here, aren't you Grejor? Lita is an acknowledged expert on auras. She read your aura once before, didn't she? It's not an old wives' tale, it's a well known fact. I think all the elves in the assembly will agree with me that auras do indeed change with lies and concealment, am I right?" A chorus of "Ayes" came from the elves in the stands and the elven Council Representatives. Prince Mavor solemnly nodded his head. "And I think you will also agree that you have noticed these changes happening to Grejor's aura as he sat here and gave evidence against Reinald. I plan to ask both Lita and Prince Mavor to take the witness chair to testify concerning the changes they saw - two acknowledged experts who will tell you of the lies that Grejor has told today against the man that befriended him." Tarnor strode up to the witness and looked him in the eyes. "When did you start to hate Reinald, Grejor? Don't bother to lie, that will just be something else that Lita and Prince Mavor will have to testify to." Grejor merely returned a look of total hatred. "Didn't you start to hate him when Mage Mulder came, and Reinald started working with him and had no time for your training anymore?" Tarnor charged. "No answer. All right, how about this one? When did you start to plot against Reinald? When did you seek out those who practice the Black Arts, to try to find a way to get back at Reinald for ignoring you?" Grejor began to shout, "I never - ". Suddenly, his eyes stared in horror as a second hooded figure stood. Baalmas swept back his hood and looked directly at Grejor. The third cloaked figure sat still. "NOOOO!" screamed Grejor. "Drellor, you fool! I told you about my aura, but you wouldn't listen! No, you said go ahead and lie anyway, that everyone would believe me. You said they'd never be able to trace that spell, and now they have. You fool, you stupid conceited fool!" Suddenly Grejor bent down and pulled a long dagger from his boot and leapt to the side of Reinald's chair, holding the knife to the Mage's throat. Madness glinted in his eyes. Jourdain started to rise from his seat, but Mulder caught his wrist in a grip of iron, never taking his eyes from Grejor and Reinald. "All right. Lita knows about my aura and Baalmas will tell of my seeking a black magician to supply a spell. Zoalstra, there, will tell of the spell she made up for me. Do you want to know why I did it? I treated Reinald like a king, like a hero, and he humiliated me every chance he got. He wanted me to fail. He treated me like an idiot, a moron. And then Mulder came. Wonderful, perfect Mulder who had everything that I didn't have - unlimited powers, a life-bondmate who never even noticed my existence, all Reinald's respect and attention. And it got worse." Grejor laughed bitterly. "I couldn't believe Reinald could treat me any worse, but he did. After all my work, I was fit only for sweeping up all the bottles that Mulder broke because he couldn't do the simplest levitation spell. I wish I had just killed you, Reinald. And I won't get the chance now, will I?" He looked at Mulder with loathing. "Because Mulder's cast a shielding spell for you, hasn't he? I can feel the resistance against my knife blade. Damn you, Mulder! You're not a Mage, you're a witch! You can't even be poisoned!" Grejor reached across and grabbed Prince Mavor. He giggled insanely. "Here's one you haven't shielded, Mulder. Too bad I can't reach your little bondmate." He turned once again to Reinald. "But I know a better way to get you, Reinald! I put the spell on your precious little Prince Andalor; only I can take it off. Well, Andalor is going to stay the way he is - forever!" Grejor shoved Mavor to the floor and took a step backwards. Before anyone could move, with a flash of his dagger, he slashed his own throat from ear to ear. He dropped to the ground, gurgling and twitching horribly, then was still and silent as his blood ran out on the stone floor. Pandemonium broke out. While spectators shouted and screamed, Jourdain and Scully moved to Grejor's side, Scully only able to confirm that Grejor was beyond a healer's help. Jourdain assisted Prince Mavor to his chair, and then collared Drellor and summoned two guards to take charge of the shaking little man. Mulder crossed to Reinald's side, and put a comforting hand on the Mage's shoulder. Prince Mavor looked at Jourdain, who yelled "Quiet" at the top of his lungs. After several shouts, the throng finally settled down. Prince Mavor rose. "These events are unprecedented. Our traditions do not dictate to us how to deal with this situation. Obviously, Reinald is innocent; the guilty party has confessed and is dead. I am ordering the arrest of Drellor on the charge of conspiracy. Do I hear any objections?" Two or three of Drellor's noble lackeys called out "Aye" but they were the only ones. Drellor was taken away by the guards, to the catcalls of the spectators. Then Mavor declared, "For the record, I call a vote to determine Reinald's verdict. Who believes Reinald has been proved innocent?" There were affirmative shouts from nearly all the Representatives. "Guilty?" Incredibly, there were a couple of Dordinal nobles who shouted "Aye." They were roundly jeered by the spectators and the other Representatives. "Reinald is released and this Council is dismissed. Because of the events which have transpired, we will forego the closing ceremony." Prince Mavor sank into his chair, emotionally exhausted, as spectators and Representatives alike moved in a cacophonous animated tidal wave for the exits. - - - - - Back in Reinald's chambers, the five friends huddled around the fire drinking tea, as they had a scant week ago when this nightmare had first begun. "I just want to congratulate Tarnor," declared Jourdain. "He did a wonderful job." Tarnor shook his head. "We have Mulder and Scully to thank for the most part. Without the evidence that they uncovered, I wouldn't have had anything. The aura idea was brilliant, and finding Baalmas put the final nail in Grejor's coffin." "Literally, unfortunately," Reinald sighed. "I wish I had paid more attention. The boy couldn't help that he just didn't have strong enough powers. And I did ignore him shamefully the past several weeks." Mulder shook his head. "I, too, wish I had paid more attention, but for a different reason. When I was studying for my doctorate in psychology, we studied cases like Grejor. Scully, I'm sure you did too." Scully nodded. "Reinald," Mulder continued, "You never would have been able to give Grejor all the time and attention he thought he needed. He was shifting the blame for his lack of success away from his shortage of talent, which he couldn't accept, and on to your lack of attention and appreciation, which he could. I blame myself because I should have spotted Grejor's pathology and anticipated a problem. Besides, Reinald, we've been working to try to save the Realm. It may sound harsh, but I think that had to take precedence over one person's bent psyche." The language spell had a few problems, but the company understood most of what Mulder was trying to say. "One thing I don't understand," said Aldara. "If Zoalstra was dead, who was the third hooded figure?" Tarnor smiled. "I recruited Drellor's gargoyle servant, who was only too happy to help us against Drellor. I never intended to have him take his hood off. I just hoped that Grejor would assume what he obviously did - that Zoalstra was alive and ready to testify against him. If Grejor had been thinking straight, he would have known that there was no way anyone could have trusted Zoalstra in the witness chair, as crazy as she was." There was a knock on the door. Jourdain walked over and opened it to admit Corvay. The little elf was handed a mug of tea and shown to a seat. "I hate to be the voice of doom," began Scully, "But this is really only the tip of the iceberg. I mean, Reinald, I'm totally delighted you're free and it's a wonderful and necessary first step. But it's only that - a first step. The biggest battles lie ahead of us - ridding the Prince of his spell and especially, defeating the Dark Realm." Mulder caressed her hand, and her mind. "Reinald and I have a possible solution to the Prince's spell. We're not sure it will work. Since we don't have anything around that is under the same spell as the Prince, we can't test our little remedy. And we don't want to make things worse than they are right now. We wanted to consult with all of you. We need to weigh the benefits against the risks." Mulder looked around at all of them. "I'm aware that this will all be guesswork, hopefully educated guesswork. Corvay - your thoughts?" The little elf looked at everyone with bright, knowing eyes. "I am of the opinion that the longer the Prince stays in his current state, the harder it will be to both remove him from that state, and return him to health if he is removed from that state. There's no telling when, if ever, you could come up with a better plan. I think if you have a plan, put it into action now." "I don't know if anyone cares what I think," Aldara ventured, "But I'd be inclined to wait. And not for the reason you think. I'm sure that Reinald and Mulder will take all due care, and may even successfully bring the child back. But think about Wide River. Do we want to bring the child back to face an end like that? Our future is so unsure right now. Is it fair to bring him back only to suffer the fate of those poor people in Wide River?" The group was quiet for some time. "Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that," Reinald said. "I love the child, and the gods know I would not want him exposed to that. But he is also the Prince, the head of the Realm. As such, he has certain responsibilities, and he both knows and accepts that fact. His return to normal would have a very positive effect on the morale of our soldiers and on all the people of the Realm who need to be ready to sacrifice all they have to defeat the Realm's enemies. For that reason alone, the sooner we bring him back the better." He turned to Aldara. "I don't mean to sound hard and uncaring, my dear. Unfortunately, I must think not only as someone who loves Andalor, but also as Regent of this part of the Realm, and sometimes that must take precedence." Scully looked uncomfortable. "I can't help but think the Prince is in there, sentient, unable to move or communicate. Maybe it's because of a past personal experience of mine, only tiny fragments of memories - " Scully voice became choked and she shuddered. Immediately she felt Mulder in her mind, caressing and soothing, supporting and comforting. She communicated gratitude, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, if what I feel is true, we have to bring him back, as quickly as possible, before he has lasting effects from the experience that even Corvay can't heal." "I must say, too," Corvay piped up, "If Scully feels that way, there is a much better than average chance that she is correct. Her psi ability is much higher than that of anyone I know, and she may be able to sense the Prince's presence." Reinald took a deep breath. "Then, if no one has anything else to say, I think we need to come to a decision. Although I acknowledge the possible deleterious effects, I believe we have no other choice than to try to restore the Prince. Anyone opposed?" One by one they shook their heads, some firmly, some hesitatingly. Reinald nodded approvingly. "I took the liberty of discussing this possible course of action with the heads of the noble houses, the priests and with the non-human representatives. As expected, the nobles could not agree on anything but not agreeing, and the priests and Prince Mavor and the troll and gargoyle representatives were very supportive, regardless of the outcome. Are you ready, Mulder?" Solemnly, Mulder nodded. Scully suddenly felt very anxious. She knew all too well Mulder's overblown sense of responsibility. If this didn't work, he would find it very hard to ever forgive himself, especially where a child was involved. There was already so much that wasn't his fault that he felt guilty for, the last thing she wanted to see was something else on that list. Her mind sent a constant stream of love and support and trust to his. She saw a flicker of recognition and appreciation on his face, then he turned to her and smiled. They all went into Reinald's bedchamber where the Prince stood as he had since the previous week, his stone feet encased in a broken block of stone that had once been clear, spring water. Reinald lit eight candles and placed them at precise positions around the Prince. Mulder took a small stone dish of water, floated a fresh flower blossom in it, and placed it at the Prince's feet. The Mages then took up positions on either side of the Prince and spread their arms wide. Closing their eyes, they started chanting, and blue and white Mage-energy began snapping from their finger tips. The energy and power increased, until both Mages were shaking with the effort to control it. The cadence of the chant picked up, as did the volume. Suddenly, the Mages joined their hands, encircling the Prince in a finely woven screen of blue and white. They were now almost yelling the chant to be heard over the crackling of the power cage they had created. Finally, with a hoarse scream, they pulled their hands apart and collapsed on the floor. Between their prostrate bodies were eight candles, burned down to the holders, a dish with a stone flower, a puddle of muddy water, and a pale and shaky little boy. - - - - - The next hour was a busy one for everyone. Corvay took charge of Andalor, scooping the child up and placing him in Reinald's huge bed. He sat next to the child, holding his hand, reaching deep inside the child as a healer, assessing the damage done by the spell, starting the healing process. Scully looked at them anxiously - the child was very, very pale, and had not spoken a word. She went to the fire and put a pot of restorative on to warm. Then she helped the Mages to a sitting position and held the potion to their lips, assisting them to drink. Meanwhile, Aldara and Jourdain went to deliver the good news to the Council Representatives who had not yet departed for home, and had it announced from the battlements to the joyous cries of the crowd gathered below. The five gathered again by Reinald's fire an hour or so later. The Mages were exhausted, but satisfied that their spell had worked. But they all awaited the word of Corvay, who was still in with the Prince. Scully left the fire to check on Corvay, as she had every five minutes for the last half hour. This time she was gone longer, and emerged from the bedchamber supporting a weak and trembling Healer. Jourdain bolted from his chair and carried the little elf to a seat at the fireside, and Scully help him drink some restorative. It was several minutes before he had recovered the strength to talk. At last he sighed and sat up a bit straighter. "It was as Scully felt - the Prince was aware throughout the ordeal. He is not yet well. Several sessions will be needed to heal him completely, but he can be healed. Reinald - your speaking to him and reassuring him right after it happened made a huge difference to his state. Had you not done that, I may not have been able to restore him to health. Likewise, Aldara and Jourdain -" everyone looked at them, and they looked at each other, in surprise - "your visits to him when Reinald was imprisoned helped him to maintain a link with this world. Again, I'm not sure whether his mind would have survived without them. It will take a few days, and there may be a few lingering effects - nightmares and so on - but he will be well again. Don't leave him alone for a while. No excitement. Limit visitors to just ourselves, and a few of the Council Representatives, as necessary for matters of state, who can be trusted to behave themselves. Now, I must sleep. Jourdain, may I ask you for some help?" Jourdain lifted the old elf in his arms as he would a child. Aldara opened the door for them, and the three left for Corvay's quarters. Scully helped to pull Mulder to his feet. "Is there anything else you need, Reinald?" she asked. The Mage shook his head and smiled. "What more could I possibly ask for? I have my life, and my freedom, and Andalor. I don't want to make the gods envious - an old Realm expression, Scully. Take your bondmate back to your quarters. We've all done good work and it has been an exhausting day. When Corvay gives the word, there will be a day of celebration for the delivery of the Prince from this spell. The people need something to celebrate - the gods know there hasn't been much lately. Goodnight." Scully smiled at the Mage. "Goodnight, Reinald." She guided Mulder through the door and back to their chamber. She helped to get him undressed and into bed. For tonight, she assumed the nighttime duties he normally saw to, extinguishing all but one of the torches, stoking the fire, and bringing him a cup of tea. She lay quietly beside him, both of them too exhausted by the events of the day to speak. When he fell asleep, she eased the tea cup from his hand. Sliding out of bed, she put the cup on the table and put out the last torch. Then she crawled up beside him and lay in the shelter of his arms for the remainder of the night. - - - - - The party was in full swing three days later. Andalor scampered in and out of knots of people, acting very much as a normal eight year old boy at a party. They were all in their finest clothes, and the affair was made all the more glamorous by the many Council Representatives who had stayed on at Fairwood Keep to celebrate. An unseasonable warm turn in the weather allowed much of the party to take place in the courtyard. There were musicians and dancing and food hoarded for a special occasion was presented on long tables. Nobles mixed with common folk in a celebration that touched all the people in the Realm. Unnoticed was a small, bloody figure, half staggering, half dragging himself toward the sounds of merriment. As had happened so often in the last three days, he fell heavily, only to find the strength from his dwindling reserves to pull himself up again, leaving bloodstains on the ground where he had fallen. Aldara stood at a little distance, watching the revelers, Jourdain amongst them. He was rarely lighthearted these days, and it was good to see for a change. She saw Scully, looking radiant in a golden gown, floating on Mulder's arm in time to the music, the two of them as handsome and graceful a couple as she had ever seen. At present, Aldara was engaged in one of her favorite private pastimes - watching the sun go down behind the battlements. Not normally a contemplative person, she used this one time of the day for talking to herself and to the gods. She looked out over the shadows caused by the setting sun, the interplay of dark and light - and saw something move. The delicate, feminine partygoer was gone and the warrior surfaced. Drawing the knife from its sheath strapped to her leg, she followed the walls for cover as much as possible, her sharp eyes on the source of her concern. When she got to within a hundred feet, she recognized the huddled shape as Fossia, an elf who maintained a watchpost near the Vortex. "Help, we need help here! Healers!" She ran to the elf, who had again fallen. She lifted his head. "Stay quiet, help's coming." Within seconds, Jourdain, Corvay, Mulder and Scully were at her side, lifting the injured elf and carrying him to a bench made softer by the donation of cloaks from concerned onlookers. The Healer tried to establish contact. Fossia shook off Corvay impatiently, showing some typical elf temper with the last of his energy. "No, Healer, not yet. I did not drag myself all this way...to be put into a healing trance now. Jourdain! I must tell you...the Vortex...Hunters and Destroyers, pouring in...thousands amassing...our doom." The little elf finally surrendered to unconciousness and Corvay grabbed his hand to establish contact and start the healing trance. Jourdain looked at Aldara gravely. "Gather the Representatives for a special meeting. I'll find Reinald. It's started in earnest." Mulder looked at Scully, with concern and regret and sorrow in his eyes. "Party's over." ----------------- Fox Mulder pushed the doorflap aside, ducked his head and stepped into the tent. Immediately to the left of the door was a small table covered with fruits and simple breads; to the right was a large pile of parchment maps. In the middle of the tent, several brightly patterned cushions had been placed into a circle, surrounding a small open area. Scully and Jourdain were already seated on two of the big colorful pillows, each sipping at a steaming mug of the Realm's magical tea. "Can I have one of those?" Mulder asked wearily, dropping his lanky frame onto one of the empty cushions next to Scully, who handed out her cup to him with a ghost of smile. "You sure?" he questioned, looking at her critically. When had those lines developed around her mouth and eyes? Her blue eyes were cloudy, her lovely hair dusty and tightly wound in a now-characteristic braid. She was dressed in dusty green leather and light silver chain mail, her sword still hanging down her back. A warrior, calm and tense as a coiled spring. "Yes, I've already had enough to keep me wired for hours." Scully sighed and stretched, watching with hidden concern as her partner sipped at the hot tea. His skin had paled underneath its tan to a sickly yellow pallor. His eyes were red- lined and heavy-lidded, his delicate hands trembling slightly. She knew he had been pushing himself far too hard, the demands on the surviving Realm magicians increasing daily. And Mulder was always one to take more than his share of the responsibility. "You need to rest," she scolding him, uncomfortably aware of her own exhaustion. "I know, but it will have to wait for a while. We still have to get Erensto evacuated." He took a gulp of the tea, wincing as it scalded the back of his throat, sighing as he was rewarded with a warm rush in his belly. "Mulder..." Scully shook her head. He was right, there were too many lives at stake. Too much left to do. And far too little time left. Further conversation was halted as Reinald nearly staggered into the tent followed by the bulky Troll General, Kergidor. Andalor was barely a step behind them, tugging impatiently on the hand of the gargoyle leader Beerak. The elven Prince Mavor entered last, his thin, finely carved features haughty with disdain as he eyed Kergidor diving eagerly into the refreshments, juice running down his pointed jowls. Reinald took the seat next to Mulder, waving to young Andalor to sit next to him. The boy Prince did so quickly, his mobile features coalescing into a look of worried expectancy. Beerak sat down gravely, ignoring the food. Mavor followed suit, though not without a sharp look of disgust at Kergidor, who bustled over to the remaining cushion, even as he nibbled at a chunk of bread, crumbs spilling down onto his stained brown armor. Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments once everyone had been seated, eight pairs of eyes darting from one closed countenance to another, no one wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Jourdain cleared his throat and began. "The East and South regions are lost. We've evacuated as many people as we could from the towns of Dreegan, Yellowfork, and Jinderling. The Gargoyles have cleared out of Goodearth caverns, the Elves have had to abandon Fairwood Glens. Mage Mulder will be aiding Mage Gera in evacuating Erensto this afternoon. That should clear out the last of the people in the area between here and the Fairwood crossing. So far, we've been able to hold the line at Fairwood Crossing, though the losses have been heavy. With the help of mages Flordan and Giels, we've been able to Gate in gargoyle and human reinforcement units, hopefully they'll be able to hold until tomorrow night. "We're setting up a staging ground here on the Uriin Plains, near the Sentinel cliffs. The river provides a natural barrier on the other side, giving us the chance to surround them - if we can draw them in. We'll swing troops around behind them and place archer units on the corners. One they're surrounded, Mages Reinald and Mulder will create the vortex in the center, our job will be to drive the Dark Army through it." Mulder and Reinald exchanged grim looks while Jourdain leaned forward to draw lines in the dirt floor with his knife edge, explaining the battle strategy in detail, even though they all knew it by heart. Many long hours of planning, arguing, hope and desperation had gone into the decision. If the two magicians failed at creating and holding the vortex, if the surrounding troop lines broke, letting the enemy escape, if the timing was wrong at any stage - it could result in disaster. Reinald gave the best assurances he could concerning his and Mulder's ability to control the vortex, though all were painfully aware of the small crater that now graced the top of one of the Sentinel cliffs. All knew this could easily blow up in their faces - all knew it was their best, and only, hope. Still, they discussed it yet again: the placement of troops and cavalry, archers and magicians. Each race had its own units which had to be coordinated with the others. Familiar arguments were raised and dismissed, almost by rote. Additional reinforcements were planned, some consisting solely of farmers and merchants, refugees who had traded their plows and wagons for knives and swords. Supply lines were given extra guards, healer positions were rearranged. Finally the discussion dwindled into a another painful silence. Only one last question to answer. "Who is going to lead them into the trap?" The words, spoken in Reinald's weary tones quivered in the air. "I will." Seven pairs of stunned eyes turned to stare at the red-haired woman. Her face was as calm as her voice, her eyes steady and certain. "Scully!" Mulder began to protest, his blood beginning to chill in his veins. She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Someone has to do it, and you are all needed here. Jourdain has to organize the trap, Reinald and Mulder have nearly impossible responsibility as is. Andalor can't be put at risk while Kergidor, Mavor and Beerak are needed among their own peoples. That leaves me. I'll take a group of volunteers from among the soldiers, I don't think anyone should be compelled to do this." "You are needed here, too," Reinald protested. Scully shook her head. "Anyone can do what I do. You've got dozens of better trained healers, thousands of more experienced soldiers. And don't forget the Prophecy: 'Woman, born to be a mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight.' I think that this is what the lines mean - that this is what I'm supposed to do." Again, she forestalled Mulder's protest, "I HAVE to do this. It will fail if anyone else does. I'm not sure how I know this, but I'm right." Good heavens, she thought, now I'm even starting to talk like Mulder. She was terrified of the prospect facing her, and yet she also felt an odd sense of peace - a sense of rightness. THIS was why she was here, what she had been training for over the long months. This was her role to play, and she couldn't hand it off to anyone else. A part of her wanted to laugh - intuitive knowledge was Mulder's style, not her's. But the growth of their mind-link had blurred the barriers between their minds, their personalities, their capabilities. Another part of her wanted to cry. She was so scared. Please don't shut me out, Mulder, she pleaded silently, I need you. Mulder's eyes glittered, his jaw held so tightly clenched his teeth began to ache. She reached out to touch his arm tenderly. "I'm sorry, Mulder, please...I have to do this." Feelings warred back and forth down the mental link between them, then shut off as he pulled down a seamless mental barrier between them. Ignoring the worried faces watching them, she pushed at it with all her energy, only barely keeping herself from screaming aloud. The air in the tent grew dark and heavy with moisture, thick with static charge, as Mulder battled with himself. Part of him wanted to scream, to throw her over his shoulder and lock her up somewhere safe until the battle was over. But another part of him respected and admired her courage. He'd come to understand over the past few months of the escalating war, in a way he had never done before, just how ferocious a warrior his partner was. She was in her element on the battlefield, fierce, relentless and unstoppable. Sometimes it frightened him, the way she scythed her way through the enemy, sword flashing, eyes blazing blue fire. But he also couldn't forget her gentler side, the graceful, elegant beauty who melted in his arms, the woman whose love made him whole. He couldn't let her do this, he knew the pain of losing her would destroy him. To lose her would be losing himself - he would not live without her. Yet he also knew that nothing he could say would stop her. "Mulder, for goodness sake's stop it. Ground yourself now!" Reinald reached out to grab Mulder's hand as heavy black clouds formed in the pointed top of the tent. Mulder yanked his arm away and leaped to his feet. Surveying them all with ice-cold eyes, he turned to leave. "Maybe a good soaking will bring you to your senses," he said bitterly. Buckets of rain poured downward within the tent even as Mulder stopped out into the bright morning sunshine. - - - - - The cliffs rose in huge, nearly flat sheets of white-lined rock straight up from the fields below. Only the most careful observer would note the small dots of caves and crevices that wound their way into the base of the towering stone slabs. The hidden province of the gargoyle miners, some of the caverns were filled with huge crystal formations and bubbling pools of subterranean heated water. It was beside one such pool that Scully and Tarnor found Mulder, his boots tossed carelessly aside, his feet plunged into the hot water, while he rested on his back across a slab of bright red crystal. Staring straight up at the glittering stalactites hanging in massive formations from the cavern's ceiling, he didn't react to the echoing sounds of their footsteps. Scully let go of her anxious guide's hand, and indicated he should go back with a tilt of her head. In response to the gargoyle's worried look, she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "We'll be okay," she reassured. "Go on." Glancing from her to the lanky recumbent figure on the rock, Tarnor shook his head, then ambled back out of the cavern leaving them alone. Scully walked over and sat down beside Mulder, tucking her feet underneath her. He turned his head to look at her silently for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded. "Mulder..." she started to speak, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand. "Do what you have to do, Scully," he said tonelessly, turning his head back to continue glaring at the cavern's glittering ceiling. "Stop it!" she yelled. "Just stop it!" "Stop what?" Mulder's voice was calm and reasonable, he glanced at her with wide-eyed surprise. "Stop shutting me out," she insisted angrily, reaching out to tighten her hand around his upper arm. "I don't know what you mean, Scully," he replied even as he disentangled himself from her hand and sat up, putting several long inches between them. "You know exactly what I mean, Mulder. I won't let you do this. Not now." "I'm not..." "Ouch!" Mulder rubbed his cheek, staring at her with an aggrieved, little-boy innocence. "You hit me!" "Yes," she replied firmly, "and I'll do it again, unless you cut the crap and start talking to me." One look at the set of her jaw and the determination in her bright eyes and he knew she really meant it. "Scully..." he paused for a moment, not knowing how to begin, what to say. "Yes..." she prodded, none too gently. Miserable, he curled up into a ball, pulling his feet up out of the water, pressing his knees to his chest, and hugging his legs. "Don't do this, Scully. Let someone else go. It doesn't HAVE to be you!" His voice rose, slipping off the last word. She closed her eyes for a brief second, then looked straight into his eyes. "I wish it didn't have to be me, Mulder. Believe me, the last thing I ever wanted to do is play bait for an army of monsters. But it has to be, just as it has to be you and Reinald who have to find a way to end this thing. I know I am asking you to put your life on the line too, that if I die, the life- bond could pull you under with me..." Her voice broke off as Mulder shook his head head at her, then turned to stare down into the bubbling, steaming water. Even without the open link between their minds she knew instantly he was thinking that his life didn't matter, only hers did. That realization made her angry. "Do you think I haven't worried about you?" She shouted. "About what it might do to you to try to create a vortex here? Reinald's one attempt at manipulating an already existing vortex nearly killed him." Suddenly it all poured out of her. "How many times have you ran off and put yourself into danger without even telling me? Mulder! Do you have even the slightest idea how I felt each time you disappeared, running off to Wisconsin, Arecibo - the damned North Pole, for God's sake! If I hadn't gotten there in time, you'd be DEAD! Dead..." She stopped for a moment, drawing a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stalled him with one burning glance. "No, Mulder, this time you're going to hear me out. I'm sick and tired of your trying to protect me, then taking unconscionable risks with your own life. We're supposed to be partners, supposed to share the risk. God knows I don't want to do this alone - I don't particularly want to do it all - but I have to do it, with or without you. So which is it going to be? Are you going to trust me to carry my share of the responsibility, or do I have to go it alone? Because, if you won't be with me, then I might as well go play bait - that's about all that will be left of me." Drained, furious, terrified, she came to a stop and buried her head in her arms while Mulder stared at her, his jaw hanging in amazement. "Dana?" His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to touch her arm. She jerked away from the contact, the tears that has been threatening finally cascading down her cheeks in audible sobs. "Dana, I'm sorry," he replied helplessly, totally unable to cope with her tears. He'd only seen her cry twice before, after she'd been kidnapped by Pfaster and when she was forced to euthanize the injured man at Wide River. He'd hated it then, but this was even worse because it was HIS fault. The barrier he'd been holding up between them shifted, wavered, and collapsed under the flood of his guilt. Scully shook as she was hit by the waves of shame, Mulder felt his own eyes begin to fill with salty moisture as he was rocked by her fear and anguish. Almost before either one of the knew they were moving, the space between them was breached, Mulder wrapping his arms around her and clutching her against him. She buried her head against his chest nestling into the iron warmth of his embrace. After an all too brief embrace, she forced herself to push him away. As powerful as their psychic connection was, this was something she had to say aloud, if only for emphasis. "This is NOT your fault." She articulated each word slowly and precisely. "You are NOT responsible for bringing me here, or for putting me in danger. Coming here was an accident - or fate, perhaps - and I have chosen all my own risks since I've been here. Unless you brought the Destroyers and their minions here, you are not at fault for any of this. One more feeling of guilt and I'll really kick your butt...and don't think I can't." Mulder let a bubble of laughter work its way out of his throat. "I would never doubt your capability, Scully. My bottom is sore enough from the many times you've dumped me on it." "Good," she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling deeper into his arms, breathing in the unique, familiar smell of his body. They held onto each other for what seemed like hours, the emotions racing back and forth between them. Finally, the internal storm calmed enough to let them exchange more coherent thoughts. Foremost in both their minds was the horror of losing the other. Even if Scully didn't bait the trap, there was no guarantee that either one would survive the upcoming battle. Neither could tolerate the idea of the other being hurt or killed, both wanted to protect the other, almost at any cost. But in the end, they both knew there was no way to avoid the upcoming war and their roles in it. They couldn't abandon the friends they'd made here. Both felt called to try to stop the Dark invasion of this peaceful world, especially since they knew that it was their world that had originally created the vortex. "Fox," she lifted her head to meet his liquid brown eyes with the gentle blue of hers. "Please help me through this. I..." He silenced her with a passionate kiss, his mind reaching out to twine with hers, offering acceptance, understanding, support...though he couldn't hide the knife edge of fear, the twist of guilt, the buried anger that still colored his thoughts. She responded eagerly, drinking in the taste of his mouth, suckling on his tongue as it stroked behind her teeth. Her mind fused to his, mixing her own emotions with his, fear and desire, love and terror. He reached up and traced her nose and eyelids, then drew his finger down across her cheekbone to her mouth. She sighed softly as he rubbed her lips, then stretched out her tongue to lick the sensitive pad of his fingertip. Moaning deep in his throat, he slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her head upwards to again meet his descending mouth. She arched herself upwards to accept the demands of his kiss, her mouth hungrily devouring the taste of his. She twined her fingers though the silky darkness of his hair, using battle- trained muscles to pin his head still while she thrust her tongue deeply between his teeth, almost touching the back of his throat. A touch of laughter echoed from his mind to hers, and he closed his teeth down on her tongue while he stroked the underside of it with the tip of his. As their tongues, teeth, mouths continued to duel and caress, he ran his hands over every curve of her body, delighting in the firmness of the muscles, the softness of her breasts, the heat between her legs. Emitting a whistling groan that was swallowed into his mouth, Scully shifted her position to allow his hand deeper access to the now-aching region between her legs, wishing for a way to strip the clothes off their bodies without having to lose one second of his touch on her or her touch on him. His lips curving into a smile as he moved downwards to suckle on the sensitive skin in the hollow of her throat, he soundlessly sent her the thought, 'Your wish is my command.' As always, some amazement penetrated the whirlwind of desire possessing her mind when Scully felt Mulder summon and focus the mage energy. She shivered slightly in his embrace as the electric-like currents spun a fine, blue, glowing web around both of their bodies, leaping from his skin to hers like mini- lightning bolts. She felt the strength of his will fighting for - and finding - control, and then the sudden twist of release. "Whhat?" she gasped, as the heavy chain mail and leather she was wearing glowed blue, then melted away, leaving her skin exposed to the hot and cold currents of air. Drawing her hands down his now-naked back, she pressed herself tighter against the heat of his skin, giggling slightly against his forehead, then lowering her head so that she could meet his amused, green- tinged eyes. He gave her a slow smile of such endearing warmth that her heart skipped a beat, a mix of tenderness and passion rushing through her heart. "Dana..." he breathed her name in so soft a velvety whisper, that she wasn't certain whether he'd said it aloud, or simply thought it. She responded with her mind, sending her own private image of him back down the bond-link; not "Fox," not "Mulder," but rather the very essence of him as seen through the filter of her love. "Dana..." again came his fully psychic response, as they shared another deep kiss, bodies pressing together, sliding past each other in search of the deepest possible contact. Using his shoulders as leverage, she pushed herself upwards to move her legs around his back. He slipped a hand under her and supported her as she came to rest upon him, arms and legs now locked behind his back. Then leaning downwards, he tried to lower her to the surface of the crystal beneath them. However, without the friction created by the now-absent clothing, the slick surface of the rock gave way, and entwined together, they slid downwards, landing with a splash into the heated pool below. Both came up sputtering, still grasping onto each other. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, rubbing the dripping hair back off his forehead. "Yes, I'm okay," she said with laughter in her voice. He grinned back at her, his eyes alight with the sight of her beauty. Standing on the bottom of the pool, the water lapping about his hips, he reached up to push his fingers through her hair, finding and releasing the pins one by one. She closed her eyes and leaned back slightly in the hot water which just barely covered the hardened tips of her breasts, enjoying the sense of utter contentment. The handful of pins clattered on the rocks as Mulder tossed them away. Then ran his hands through her hair, bringing it down to cover her shoulders and upper slopes of her flushed breasts in a riot of auburn tendrils. She sighed softly, not yet opening her eyes, her hips pressed up against his abdomen, her back half-floating on the water. He lowered one hand to rest under the small of her back, caressing the wet skin in slow gentle circles, while he leaned down over her to press soft kisses against her face and neck. Moving her hands around his back to anchor tightly against him, she abandoned herself to his caresses, delighting in the tingles of the nerves within her skin as his hands and mouth roamed over her body, ever so slowly, ever so tenderly, exploring each sweet, scented inch. The water bubbled over her skin, frothing between his fingers, flowing in warm waves over her belly and chest, meeting the probe of fingers into the most sensitive parts of her body. He traced her back and buttocks with one hand, while the other cupped the soft mounds of her chest, bringing a pebbled nipple up into the demanding heat of his mouth. A cry of ecstasy escaped her lips as he nibbled and bit at her, generating a furnace of need in the pit of her belly. While his mouth continued to suckle at her breasts, he drew one hand up the insides of her thighs in long sure stokes, pressing the palm of his hand deeply into the solid, muscled flesh; teasing the skin of her abdomen with light brushes of the fingertips of his other hand. Digging her hands into the powerful muscles of his shoulders, she convulsed up against him, legs spreading outward in invitation, her head falling backwards to rest on the water, her hair fanning out around them. Lifting his head to kiss her already swollen, red lips, he then looked deeply into her eyes as he met her unspoken command, plunging two if his fingers into the moist depths of her body, using his thumb to find and caress the throbbing center of her desire. His body shook with hers, the strength of her orgasm flooding them both in concentric waves of pleasure, drawing a cry from him as he struggled to maintain his control. Floating down to awareness, she gave him a glowing smile, claiming another deep kiss, then shifted to an upright position. Clamping her knees around his hips, she began to return his caresses, exploring his body with her hand and mouth, teasing his small nipples, tracing each line of muscle and bone. Sighing with delight, he gently lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. Her face was bright with love and amusement, joy and pleasure, her eyes wide and brilliant, her mouth parted in a gentle smile. Wet strands of bright red hair framed her face, a few tendrils pasted to the creamy skin. His eyes darkened in a returning flood of desire as his mind told her in a way that could never be verbalized just how beautiful she was. Her smile deepened as she returned the wave of love and admiration, leaning up to share a gentle soothing kiss. They rested in each other's arms for a few moments enjoying the simple closeness. Then, as desire slowly began to build again, they moved in total unison to sheath his aroused manhood into the moist center of her body. She slid down over him in perfect ease, fitting him like a glove. Tightening her vaginal muscles around him instinctively, she locked her arms and legs back around his shoulders and waist, glorying in the sense of oneness. He cupped her bottom with strong, but gentle hands and began to move her slowly against him. Sighing with pleasure, she used the satin- sheathed iron of his shoulders as a ballast, going with his movements, quickening the pace at which she slid along his length. Again claiming her mouth, his tongue mimicked the motions below, causing her to purr deep in her throat. Her body surrendering to the power of his, yet equally demanding in its pursuit of their ultimate union; she answered each thrust of his hips with a thrust of hers, each plunge of his tongue with a plunge of hers, rocketing them both into a maelstorm of ecstasy and fulfillment. Minds melding into the heat of their bodies, emotions and sensations feeding off each other, they slid over the edge of the volcano and tumbled into the furnace below, neither hearing the other's cry - or their own - as they again fused into one being: one mind, one body, one soul. ----------------- "You are not going." Jourdain's voice was velvety steel, his expression forbidding. Dwarfed, but unintimidated, Aldara glared up at the big man. "I am going. Scully needs me." She enunciated each word slowly and carefully, "There is no way that I am going to let her face this without me." Pivoting on her heels, she turned away. "No, you are my officer and you have a job to do here." Worry and terror driving his anger, Jourdain reached out to grab her arm, pulling her back against him, only to jump back in shock as he found a knife pressed to his belly. "Don't ever touch me like that again," Aldara's eyes flashed emerald fury, her jaw gritted in fury. "And don't ever assume that just because you're bigger than me that you can push me around. This is a volunteer mission, and I am going whether it meets your fancy or not. I've taken care of myself quite well since I was a child, I can do so now." She poked him with the tip of the knife, then spun away, her small strides still eating up the ground as she left him behind. "Aldara!!!" he yelled after her, but she was gone, slipping into the chaos of the crowded camp with practiced ease. "By the gods," he swore, slumping to the ground. Of all the impossible, outrageous, reckless women in the Realm, why had he gotten stuck with that one. But a voice inside him reminded him all too clearly of why he had come to love the fiery, dark half-elf. He'd thought he'd never feel again the way he had about his late wife - and perhaps that was true. His feelings for Aldara were very different than his feelings for the sweet, gentle Niera. One had been his solace, his haven, the other was a constant pinprick under his skin; he couldn't stop arguing with her, he couldn't stop wanting her. And now she'd decided to risk herself on a suicide mission. He buried his head in his hands as he sat dejectedly in the dirt, feeling an intense sympathy for the foreign mage. Somehow Jourdain doubted Mulder had gotten any further with Scully than he had with Aldara. - - - - - Blinking as he walked out into the sunshine, Mulder turned to Scully who was walking silently beside him. "You are really going to do this, aren't you?" "Yes, I have to," she replied. "Just as you have to help Reinald create the vortex." She laughed, but it was an unhappy sound. "I think I may be safer with the Dark Forces than you will be messing with that much energy." She came to a halt and peered anxiously up at him. "Do you really think that you can handle this?" He stopped in mid-stride and turned back to look down at her. Shrugging his shoulders, he answered, "I'm not sure. Reinald was able to open it to bring us through, and we have been able to recreate it on a small sale, though not for long. I guess we won't know until we try - it's too dangerous to practice in full-scale - so we'll find out tomorrow night." "That's not exactly encouraging, Mulder." She said, walking up past him towards the camp. "I know," he responded, falling in step beside her. "But its the only way to stop them. We'll never win with swords and knives. What I wouldn't give for a truckload of machine guns." "I'd prefer a couple stealth bombers, or better yet, a couple Patriot missiles." They grinned at each other, then both sighed and shook their heads. No use dreaming for the impossible. In silent, tense contemplation of the battle ahead, they walked together into the camp. - - - - - Fairwood Crossing was no more than a deep crevasse between two sharp mountain peaks, a narrow winding ridge of rock that could carry no more than one horse, or two men walking abreast. It hugged the curves of the mountain edge, small loose pebbles tumbling down across and over it to vanish into the dark depths of the ravine. A few scraggly vines and trees clung desperately to its edge, their roots digging deep into the unsteady earth, clinging precariously to life. Dana Scully felt like she was sitting on the edge of just such a precipice as she stood looking across the empty air to the darkened landscape beyond. On the other side of the mountain, the earth crawled with creatures worse than her most terrible nightmares. Things with the eyes of and mouths of beasts in twisted human faces wandered among lizard-like beings with foot-long jaws and layered rows of reddened teeth, half-human, half-lupine creatures with glowing eyes and clawed feet, blood-covered shapes that writhed and slithered along the ground, their featureless, eyeless heads shifting and shaking with every movement, and shimmering black spider webs that appeared and disappeared in pockets of pure dark nothingness that swallowed the very air itself. The Realm soldiers guarding this side of the path were worn and haggard, eyes haunted and red-lined. They spoke in no more than whispers, heads jerking in response to the slightest sound, even the barest whistle of the wind. Scully turned to meet Aldara's hooded green eyes, nodding slightly, receiving the slightest flicker of a response. Behind the two women, the remainder of the volunteer unit stood in grave silence, seven men and two women, each a survivor, each having lost all that was worth living for to the nightmare they were preparing to face again. Scully didn't know each of the stories in detail, but she'd seen enough over the past months to have a painfully accurate idea of what the tales might be. She had picked up too many pieces of human wreckage. And that was not ignoring the horrors suffered by the other races of the Realm, to Scully they were all 'human' now - as was anyone capable of love and goodness - in comparison to the living nightmares crawling on the rocks beyond the all-too-short divide. As it became obvious that dusk was beginning to fall, Scully drew a deep breath and sent a fervent prayer upwards to all and any Gods there might be, her hand pressing unconsciously into the hollow of her throat where her mother's cross lay hidden under her leather tunic and the heavy silver-armor. Then turning back to lead her nervous horse back away from the path's edge, she barked out a staccato series of instructions to the guards. "They'll try to cross as soon as the sun goes down. Hurj, you and your archers should fire some warning shots, then pull back up into the caverns to your right. Mulder and Flordan will have a Gate ready to retrieve you. When the time comes, move FAST. We'll have a cavalry unit ready to come through from the other side to flank in behind the Dark Army as soon as it passes. "Jakeer, you and your people should give them a good fight. Make them feel like they're working for it, but do not sacrifice yourselves unnecessarily. Let them think you're retreating, then get out of the way. Reinald and Giels have a Gate set up just over the next rise to your left, as soon as I give the signal, get to it, and leave things to us. There'll be a troll unit ready to come through after you've cleared the Gate." Eyes grim, she turned back to her ten volunteers. "This is it. If there is anyone who wants to back out now, no one will question you." She peered intently from one set, determined face to another, each met her gaze squarely, fiercely. "We're with you," Aldara's voice was deadly calm, only the glitter of her emerald eyes betraying the emotions within. Like the others, she held herself like a rattlesnake prepared to strike. Scully took a deep breath, wishing she could talk her friend out of this, but knowing deep inside that nothing she could say would change the half-elf's stubborn mind. And Scully couldn't help feeling a rush of gratitude that her friend was here with her. It helped immeasurably not to be facing this alone. "You're not alone...never alone..." came the softest of echoes in the corner of her mind. "Mulder," she sighed under her breath. Even over several kilometers, their life-bond was strong enough for him to be heard. She closed her eyes for a brief second savoring the love and support that trickled over that tenuous, precious link. Then she opened her eyes and nodded, accepting Aldara's words on behalf on the small company. "Okay, we'll settle in behind Jakeer's group. Stay back until I signal, then race forward to fill the breach while the others slip away. We'll charge the lead creatures, sting them as hard as we can, then run back away. Be QUICK!" She glared at them, trying to force her orders home. "We want to anger them, bring them after us. And we need to get out of it alive. They won't follow us into the trap if we're dead. So it doesn't matter if you kill, maim, or miss your target. One strike and then RUN! Is that understood!" Ten heads nodded understanding, ten pairs of eyes met hers in unblinking concordance. Before Scully could give the order to take their positions, one of the sentry's gave a ringing yell. "They're coming, they're coming!" Without a single more word spoken, the assembled Realm forces scattered into position, each person, human, elf, or gargoyle finding their assigned spot in a rapid, noiseless scramble. Scully and her unit mounted their horses in a unison, fluid motion, racing back to shelter behind a big outcrop of granite stone. Peering just around the edge, Scully's eyes widened in a mix of terror and rage as she watched the flood of creatures begin to cross the divide. Arrows whistled in the darkened air as Hurj and his gargoyle archers let fly a deadly volley of spell-tipped arrows. Screams rent the air as four of the hunters and one of the crawlers stumbled, two sliding from the edge. The other two bodies were simply ignored by their fellows, crushed underneath as more and more of the monsters pushed their way across. As the first Destroyer passed the mangled bodies, it swooped down a long claw and picked up a broken forearm and bit into it with manic pleasure. Two more volleys of arrows, the last fire-tipped, then the archers fell back, melding into the rocks like shadows. The attention of the Dark forces was immediately seized by the shrieking battle cry of the human soldiers. Names of the various clan houses filling the air, they took up position at the edge of the pass, a place so narrow, the creatures had to attempt to pass one by one. The battle raged for a brief span of time, a time that still seemed endless to Scully and Aldara as they watched from their sheltered vantage point. The hunters and crawlers clambered over the fallen bodies heedlessly, the soul-eaters leaping into the air, crying their hunger towards the rising moons. Slowly, ever so slowly, the human forces slipped backwards, giving up ground inch by apparently reluctant inch. One soldier, overcome with fury and terror, ignored his orders and threw himself up over the backs of the hunters, managing to launch a flashing knife directly into the eyes of the lead Destroyer, before he fell to the ground to be torn apart limb by limb between a soul-eater and a small hunter. The doomed man's screams of mixed triumph and excruciating pain mixed with those of the blinded monster as it drew the knife out its eyes, blood spurting from the wound. Other men fell too, one drawn into the gaping mouth of a misshapen crawler, another tossed up into the air to fall into the mouths of three hunters. Another soldier used his sword to cleave off his own leg at the knee, leaving the bloody stump in the mouth of a soul-eater, dragging himself backward on one leg, until another soldier could carry him out of the way. As the monsters slowly fanned out onto the ledge, Scully gave a piercing whistle which was taken up by Aldara and Jakeer. In a carefully planned and perfectly executed drill, the two forces changed positions before the Dark Forces even knew it was occurring. Blinded by the taste of blood and flesh, and consumed by the driving need for more, they never noticed that the faces of their targets altered. Jakeer and his men melded back into the shadows, slipping up the rocks and out of sight, while Scully and her small unit charged forward with whooping cries and swords flashing brightly in the double-moonlight. Scully rode like an avenging angel, her hair a glowing red, her eyes flashing blue fire, her sword scything through the air like a lightning bolt. Aldara was her dark mirror, hair floating around her face in a ebony cloud, eyes brighter than emeralds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, controlling her terror- stricken stallion with no more than the pressure of her knees. Side by side they drove straight for the lead monsters, swiping out in every direction with the deadly silver blades. Scully choose one large hunter, and in one precisely- timed stroke, half-severed its neck, then yanking back on the reins with her other hand, she pivoted her rearing horse on its hind legs and raced back the way she had come. Aldara was only seconds behind her, leaving the small silver knife embedded in the dripping nose of the crawler that had consumed one of the soldiers, her sword burning with the guts of a soul-eater. Seven of the others were quickly behind them, leaving two casualties behind, a woman whose screams of triumph degenerated into agony as her horse was literally eaten out from under her. Falling into the claws of the monsters, she bravely took two of them with her into death. The last man almost made it free, but was taken from behind by one of the dark spider webs, his cries literally sucked out of his mouth. Not waiting to let it drain him slowly, he found enough remaining strength to sever his own throat in one desperate slash of his knife. Howls split the air as his spurting blood creating a feeding frenzy among the monsters, tumbling over each other to steal a taste of the sticky red fluid. Then in a burst of resumed blood-lust, they chased blindly after the fleeing riders, pressing each other onward in a violent stampede, causing the ground itself to shake, seemingly in revulsion of the horrors that ran and crawled over its helpless surface. Just barely holding a small distance between them and their pursuers, Scully and her group rode like the wind, knees and feet digging into the sides of horses that hardly needed the direction. nothing would have stopped the frightened animals now. Nothing, but a misstep on the rocky ground. "Aldara!!!!" Scully screamed in horror as her friend's horse stumbled and crashed to the ground a few paces in front of her, rolling its huge weight over the tiny half-elf. "Go! Go!" Scully ordered the others, swooping down off her horse to pull Aldara away from the wounded steed, which was struggling to find its feet, whinnying in pain as it broken leg couldn't take the weight. "Get out of here," Aldara yelled through gritted teeth at Scully, trying to push her away. Scully didn't bother wasting the breath on reply, she simply grabbed Aldara under her arms and yanked her to her feet, causing Aldara to gasp in pain as weight came down on a shattered foot. The howls of the monsters getting closer and closer behind them, Scully tried desperately to lever Aldara onto her horse, but was unable to do so. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Aldara was dead weight in Scully's arm, her small size belying the heaviness of her well-trained muscles. A whinnying scream rent the air as Aldara's horse was claimed by a pair of soul-eaters. Scully turned to look over Aldara's shoulder, only to find herself looking straight into huge open mouth of a hunter. It grinned wickedly at her, almost willing to play with a helpless prey before claiming it. "Noooo!" Scully wasn't sure if the cry was even hers, as she somehow found strength she didn't know she had to toss Aldara up onto the back of the other horse. Then she drew her sword, pivoting warily as she realized they were surrounded. One of the hunters swiped out at her and she took its foreclaw off in one clean sweep. Two more circled in on her, and she barely escaped being crushed between them, only her small size and quick speed saving her. Ducking and twisting, she fought what she knew was a hopeless battle, praying only to take as many of them with her as she could. "Nooo," another cry of rage and terror split through her mind, this time accompanied by a wave of burning energy. "Mulder!" she screamed her name as a soul-eater rushed between her legs, spilling her to the ground, the sword clattering out of her hand as it struck a jagged rock. The creatures moved in on her, only to jerk back whining as bolts of blue lightning sizzled across her skin and up though the air. Thunder roared above, as the air thickened. "Aaahhh," Scully groaned aloud, her body convulsing on the ground as unbelievable currents of power coursed through her, setting her veins on fire, sending shocks racing up every nerve in her body. Drawn in by the alluring mage energy, the two soul-eaters grew closer in an attempt to feed, but found themselves tossed several feet in the air as a flash of white lightning hit the ground between them, mixing with the blue fire sparking the air around Scully. Stumbling to her feet, she felt the fire grow in her until it was nearly unbearable, unable to understand or control the incessant waves of energy that flowed through her. "Mulder!" she cried again, body jerking again as his mind flew along the streams of power, fusing with hers, bringing the control she needed. Together, minds melded to one purpose, they created a ring of blue flames around Scully, her horse, and the unconscious Aldara. Then surrendering control of part of her mind to Mulder, allowing him maintain the power through her, she forced her aching body up onto the rearing, wild-eyed horse, reining it in tightly while she secured Aldara to the saddle, the wounded half elf's arms and legs hanging limply off either side of the horse. Once they were both settled on the horse, Scully sat for a moment, amazed by the incredible waves of power that flowed into her mind and out of her body, utterly controlled by the fierce will of her life-mate. She'd experienced him in her mind before, and had felt him exercise his talent, but never quite so intimately. This time she was part of it, she could direct it, direct him. The sense of power was almost overwhelming, she felt exultant, charged, like she was riding a whirlwind. But a moaning sob from Aldara broke her concentration, and she reluctantly eased back on the link with Mulder. Sensing instantly what she needed, he gave her one deep rush of love and affection, then released the link - and the mage-energy - in one booming, blinding explosion. Shielding her eyes, Scully forced her horse into an almost instant gallop, her head and body bent down over its neck, her feet pounding into its flanks. snorting, it raced over the rocks, kicking up clouds of dirt, eating up the ground in long rapid strides. Holding on to both the horse and Aldara for dear life, Scully drove them forward at an nearly impossible pace, actually catching up with and passing the remainder of her troop. They hardly noticed she was there, never altering their run, never looking behind. Together, they led the Dark Army through the mountains, across a trickling stream and up onto the edge of the Urrin plains, bringing their bloodlust-blinded pursuers ever deeper into the trap. ----------------- Jourdain stood at the cavern's lip staring out over the dusty plains. Turning, he paced back and forth in the shadows, pausing every so often to peer again over the moonlit grassland, watching for the tell-tale signs on movement on the horizon that would signal the approach of the enemy led by the remainder of Scully's small troop. A man more accustomed to action than contemplation, Jourdain felt itchy and uneasy. But with the troops were all set and waiting, the Gates installed, everyone in place, all he could do was wait. Already the Dark Army was on the move, heading straight for the trap that had been so carefully set. A trap - or a disaster - Jourdain wasn't sure what the outcome would be. His heart twisted in his breast as he recalled Mage Mulder's half-sorrowing, half-reassuring words. Only six members of the original ten volunteers had still been alive when they passed the sentries hiding in the abandoned village of Erensto. Two had fallen in the first skirmish, two more along the road. Almost three - the thought made Jourdain want to scream with his sense of helplessness. Mulder had insisted that Aldara was alive, clinging stubbornly to life in Scully's arms. "Stubborn," Jourdain laughed bitterly, that certainly described the fiery, dark- haired woman who had become the center of his life, even in the middle of what could become the end of their world. Briefly closing his eyes in agony, he prayed that she would make it through this alive, though he was well aware of the irony of hoping for one person's survival, when all could perish. "Jourdain?" Mulder stepped up beside the bigger man so quietly, Jourdain didn't notice he was there until the mage's voice broke the silence. Pulling into a fighting stance automatically, Jourdain forced himself to relax as he recognized his companion. "Any word?" Mulder tensed, then shrugged, his eyes darkening. "They're covering ground pretty well, but it should still be another hour before they get to the change point. The replacement unit is ready - and getting anxious. Gera is holding the Gate, we'll bring them directly to the cavern Corvay has preempted as a Healing site." He brushed long tendrils of black hair out of his eyes, absently wishing that he'd taken the time to cut it, but there never had been the time to think of such things. The few stolen moments not spent in preparation for this night had been focused solely on Scully. He didn't begrudge a second of that time, he just wished there had been more. "They are alive," Mulder knew he was reassuring himself as much as the grizzled soldier standing tensely beside him. "My sense for Scully increases as she gets closer. She's nearly exhausted, but still hanging on. The images are shaky, but I think Aldara is unconscious, but alive. Perhaps it is best she's not aware right now." Jourdain nodded his head, still eyeing the plains, not trusting himself to speak. With total understanding, Mulder reached out to grasp the other man's shoulder, then silently re- entered the cave. - - - - - Bending down over the neck of the sweating horse, Scully hung on for dear life as they raced across the small stream, spewing up splashes of ice-cold water. The wind tore at the skin of her face and hands, whipped her hair loose from its bindings, and bit at her lungs. Clenching her teeth, she urged the increasingly exhausted animal below her onward with tightly wedged knees, though the whining howls and bitter stench of the horde following all too closely behind was a much stronger stimulus to the horse's instincts than the weakening pressure of its rider. Tears stinging her bloodshot eyes as she lifted her head to gauge their course, Scully tightened her grip on Aldara's limp body, and pulled the horse slightly to the right. It resisted for a moment, then gave in, for one direction was as good as another, as long as it was away from their pursuers. Scully didn't even bother to look behind her to see if the remnants of her small company had followed her lead, if they were still alive, they would be there. If they weren't, she didn't want to know. Closing down her mind to anything except the motion, the ground speeding away under the clatter of the horse's hooves, she focused solely on staying awake. Almost there, almost there, almost there...the words kept repeating in her mind, a mix of hope and utter desperation. - - - - - "Go!" Karvan screamed, spurring his big white horse through the arching light of the Gate leading a group of seven elven warriors dressed in yellow leather and bright silver mail. Together the eight galloped in a neat arrowhead formation, Karvan leading, Guiran and Teedin forming the point. Breaking around a pile of crumbled rock, they burst out onto the far edge of the Uriin plains. Running at angle, they soon pulled up beside the ragged remnants of Scully's troop. Karvan immediately recognized the Traveller woman, her auburn hair blowing out behind her like a banner in the wind, the body of his half-cousin laying in front of her. The closest of her remaining volunteers was several paces behind, the man swaying dangerously in his saddle. The next was a woman, clutching blindly to her horse's mane, her face a bloody mass of tissue and broken bones. The last two men were riding double on an staggering horse, one man's leg dangling literally by a string, the flesh and bone clawed in half. Sickened, Karvan threw a horrified glance behind him, eyes widening in shock at the size of the Dark Army. It seemed to fill the entire horizon, like a giant black sea swallowing the land beneath it. For the first time truly realizing what they were up against, Karvan expertly paced himself to Scully's horse and reached out to grab her hand. Bent against the horse's neck, wind-scarred eyes centered on the ground ahead, she jolted, almost falling off the horse in sudden panic. "Easy, easy, Traveller Scully." Karvan's shouted words were whipped away by the wind. Scully gasped, reaching for her boot-knife, then relaxed slightly in relief as she recognized the dark-haired, slender elf. Meeting her eyes, Karvan nodded, then jerked his head to the right. "Around the next bend, take off to the right. You won't have long, be quick!" he reminded her. Her eyes flickered in understanding, pulling back on the reins just enough to let him race out ahead of her. Then she angled to the right, finally allowing herself to look back at the rest of her troop. A mixture of relief and anguish caught her, as she was grateful to see that half were still alive, but saddened to know which ones were gone. While maintaining a full gallop, the experienced elven riders assisted the almost exhausted human soldiers into a single file line to the far right. Then, just as the path ahead narrowed between two gigantic columns of rock, marking the edge of the Uriin plains, they began a rapid set of maneuvers, swords flashing reflected moonlight, sing-song war cries echoing in the wind, silver chain mail glittering. Not wasting a second, Scully drew her horse behind the right stone tower, begging it for one final burst of speed. It obeyed long enough to bring them out of sight, then stumbled to its knees, gasping for breath, its mouth foaming. Scully went with it, sliding off it in one fluid motion, moaning as her legs began to crumble underneath her. Fighting for control, she forced her legs to support her, reaching out to untie Aldara. "We'll get her," a pair of strong arms accompanied the whispered words, closing around Scully's waist and lifting her off the ground. Twisting to break free, she turned to come face-to- face with a very familiar face. "Jourdain," she sighed in relief, letting herself sink into the welcoming warmth of his arms. Catching her as she slumped against him, Jourdain swung the small woman up over his shoulder and carried her towards the shimmering Gate. Only when he was sure that Scully was safely though the Gate and surrendered into the hands of a brown-robed Healer, did he race back to Aldara. Without a word, he gently, but firmly, removed her from the arms of the soldiers carrying her, a sob catching in his throat as she murmured and shifted in his grasp, pressing her head into the warmth of his chest. Holding her like an infant, supporting her head in the crook of his shoulder, he strode through the Gate, eyes shedding silent tears, rough features calm and set. Inside him a voice kept shouting in joy, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive! - - - - - "Here, Traveller Scully, drink this," the young healer, her blond hair coiled over her human ears in thick braids was holding out a steaming cup of tea. Scully accepted it mutely, closing her reddened hands around the mug gratefully. Sitting on the edge of a makeshift bed, simply a pair of mattresses placed between rocks on the cavern floor, the room swirled around her, her body feeling like it was still in motion. She barely noticed when the hot tea scalded her throat. "Scully?" Corvay brushed the wings of auburn hair out of his apprentice's face. Blinking, she shook her head slightly, trying to bring his face into focus. "Corvay?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Yes, Scully, it's me. Are you hurt?" His pointy ears nearly twitching, he placed a cooling hand on her forehead. His touch was gentle on her wind-burned skin, while his mind soothing hers with gentle waves of comfort. "No, I'm okay," she replied automatically, slowly coming to awareness of her surroundings. The Healer unit looked rather like a distorted WWI army field hospital buried in a cave. Torches, lanterns and an occasional mage-light threw flickering streams of light over tables covered with bottles and jars, mattresses and blankets strewed among crystals and rock formations, pots of water boiling over small flames, scurrying personnel dressed in the healer's invariant brown robe, the white of the Priesthod, and the soldier's green leather. The war hadn't begun yet in earnest, and already there were casualties to be cared for. Flooded with a mixture of relief, grief, and an emotion that felt almost like depression, she chugged down one more swallow of the tea, gasping slightly at its heat, then began an internal check. She sighed aloud as she realized that she was going to be VERY sore, but otherwise all right. Then reaching out along the length of the bond-link she brushed the edge of Mulder's mind, feeling a welcome rush of love and relief; affection and support. She sighed softly, not noticing the tear that traced its muddy way down her dusty cheek. Kneeling at her feet, Corvay smiled as he monitored her self-check, something that had been the hardest lesson for her to learn. Now, she did it like an expert, too caught up in the past events to notice what she was doing. He opened his mouth to praise her, but Scully interrupted before he had time to speak. "Aldara!" Scully jolted to her feet, knocking Corvay backwards, inwardly reprimanding herself. How could she have forgotten her friend, if only for a few minutes? As she came awkwardly to her unsteady feet, Corvay landed in an undignified heap of brown wool on the floor, muttering in annoyance. "Where is she?" Ignoring his reaction, Scully abandoned her cup of tea, stepping directly over Corvay to run towards the Gate. Just as she came up to the brightly shimmering arch, Jourdain burst through it, Aldara cradled in his arms. "Quick," Scully shouted, her own exhaustion instantly forgotten. "Bring her over here." She tugged on Jourdain's sleeve, pulling him towards the bed she had just abandoned. Jourdain placed Aldara down gently on the mattress, only reluctantly letting go of her when Scully pushed him aside. Corvay gave Scully an irritated look, but let it subside, no time for questions of dignity now. "Well...is she going to be okay. Can you help her?" Jourdain stood anxiously at the end of the bed, balancing in frustration from heel-to-toe. "We'll do better without you making noise," Corvay grumbled, peering up at the Captain towering over him, his pointed ears twitching. "Surely you've got more important things to do than make our work more difficult." Dismissing Jourdain, Corvay turned his attention back to his patient, slipping easily into the healing trance. Jourdain wanted to yell at the little elf, but he knew the healer was right. He had a war to fight and win. His personal concerns would have to wait. Muttering under his breath, "Take care of her," he spun on his heels and headed out towards the larger adjacent cavern leaving Aldara in Corvay and Scully's hands. Taking towels soaked in heated water and herbs, Scully began to clean Aldara's wounds. As much as she wanted to dive into the trance with Corvay and assist him in the internal healing, she knew that she was in no condition to help. The trance involved deep concentration and energy, but Scully was exhausted and unfocused. Images kept flooding her mind: the blood spurting from the young man's throat while his body was being consumed by the black web; soldiers being torn apart, limb from limb; rows of jagged teeth in a Hunter's jaw so close that she could smell the rotten stench of its breath; the horrible manic pleasure in the Destroyer's twisted features; the sight of the Dark Army covering the ground like a giant plague of locusts. Closing her eyes in anguish, she forced herself to concentrate on the simple task of caring for her wounded friend. ----------------- Mulder stood near the edge of the Sentinel cliff, peering anxiously towards the plains. In the midnight dark, they looked more like a giant ocean than a field of grass and weeds, the wind causing faint ripples across the dim surface. The two moons gave just enough light for him to see the oncoming enemy. From the heights they resembled a giant black tidal wave, pushing a few flickering spots of light before them. Shivering despite the warmth of his blue woolen cloak, he again reminded himself that Scully was no longer out there. He had known the moment Jourdain had helped her through the Gate to relative safety, feeling the miles between them collapse. Now that she was so much closer, he could sense her thoughts and emotions like an undercurrent in his mind. He reached out to caress the edge of her mind, barely skimming the surface of her thoughts, catching a flash of Aldara's whitened face and an image of torchlight flickering across Corvay's white hair. She was worried and exhausted, but fighting, this time for her friend's life. A well-spring of love washed over him as he considered what an extraordinary woman Dana Scully was. It amazed him that a woman of such resilient courage and strength could love HIM. The certainty that she did, brought him a deep sense of joy. And the knowledge that she was alive and safe - as much as anyone in the Realm could be - gave him the strength to face the difficult ordeal ahead. Reaching deep within himself, he exercized the mage power, wrapping his mind around the flow of energy, feeling it surge at his command. Then, shutting it back down, he remained standing still and silent on the cliff edge. Waiting for the battle to begin. - - - - - The elven Riders had long since given up on anything but racing for their lives. Gone were the flashy shows of expertise, the intricate patterns and formations. Now they rode like the wind, a small group of silvered shapes running in the night, pursued by an army of demons. The Dark Army ran in a mighty stampede, the earth itself groaning underneath their weight. Collapsing into a thick, heavy stream of twisted shapes, they squeezed between the columns at the neck of the Uriin plains, pushing each other onward in a hungered frenzy. The slow among their own ranks were crushed under claw and slither, left mangled to expire in their own fluids, or more mercifully at the hands of the stealthy Realm units cleaning up behind their enemy. No survivors were spared, no quarter given. The watching Realm forces, hidden in the shadows of the cliffs, waited in grave silence until the last of the monsters cleared the bottleneck, nearly filling the massive plains with their immense number. But at last the trap was set, the die cast. The Time had come. Jourdain looked at Andalor and the representatives of the neighboring kingdoms. All three solemnly met his gaze, inclining their heads. The war leader bowed once, then strode towards the edge of the cavern. His eyes focused on the shining figures of the Riders closing in at breakneck speed, their light in sharp contrast to the heavy darkness all too close behind, he closed his eyes and, sending a fervent prayer, he gave one single, simple command: "Now!" Instantly the night turned into day, as the shimmering outline of Gates burst into being at the four corners of the plains. >From the center of the glowing arches flowed green-clad humans and silver-clad elves, gargoyles brandishing spears as long as they were tall, trolls waving spears and heavy wrought iron axes. Seeing only fresh sources of blood and tasty flesh, the Dark forces split into random chaos, the creatures bounding over each other to chase the most obvious morsel among the forces arrayed against them. From his vantage point at the cavern's edge, Jourdain could only hope that the lack of control and organization within the Dark hierarchy would give the Realm an advantage. In the center of the plains the battle was a nightmare of shadows and screams. Here an elf went down under the claws of a hunter, there a troll hacked a screetching crawler into pieces. The Destroyers on their massive brutal mounts cut wide swaths through the Realm defenders, screams of triumph mixing with the cries of the dying. The spinning web-creatures drew victim after victim, leaving no more than dried and empty bones to clatter to the ground. One mage caught a webspinner in mid-meal, blasting it with a charge of blue fire. The blue light was instantly absorbed into the dark center, then like a tornado spewing out dust, it threw out the blue flames, shrinking in on itself into a pinpoint of darkness. Its half-digested victim collapsed to the ground, skeletal legs hanging from a steaming torso, his cries lost in amid the clamor of the battle. With a fervor borne of desperation, the Realm forces held the Dark Army to the Uriin plains, even using the growing piles of corpses as one more barrier - one more enticement - to keep the monsters trapped. One troll unit took down a destroyer, while nearly simultaneously a gargoyle unit fell below an onslaught of crawlers and hunters. Each win was bought at a bloody price, each loss brought them closer to final annihilation. - - - - - Reaching behind him to touch the hilt of his sword, still encased in its sheath on his back, Jourdain wished he were out there on the battlefield instead of being confined to the cave. "Someone must command, my friend. It is sometimes very much the harder chore." Reinald came to stand at his old friend's side, his face drawn and lined, combining with his whitened hair to give the impression of great age. Jourdain studied him for a moment, then stared out again at the battle raging in the moonlight. "Don't you have a spell to prepare?" he said abruptly. Reinald didn't respond for a moment, watching the other man closely. Then he wrapped his blue mage's cloak around him, and turned to leave. "Be ready. We may not be able to hold it for long." he warned as he stepped through a small Gate to the top of the cliffs. Jourdain didn't answer. - - - - - Pausing in her rush to help to assist the latest casualty, Scully felt for Aldara's pulse. It beat strong and steady within the small woman's throat. At least she would survive, even if she had probably lost full use of her right leg. Scully was grateful for her friend's life, saddened at the many losses she knew were yet to come. Brushing back a wayward strand of orange-red hair, the tired but determined healer turned to help carry the broken figure of a troll towards one of the few remaining beds. Just as she settled the small bulky figure onto the mattress, she stumbled to her knees, gasping for breath. "Mulder...." - - - - - "Mulder," Reinald's mindvoice was quiet, but certain. "It's time." Mulder threw one last glance at the raging combat so far below, then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his teacher and friend. Their minds linked with the ease of long practice, power lancing between their tall, stark figures and throwing sparks of blue fire out into the night. Standing against the darkened sky, their bodies were soon enveloped in a bright blue glow, the clouds gathering above their heads in response to the concentrated energy. Lightning lit the sky in a brilliant show of light, striking down among the combatants, mixing with the blue bolts thrown from the other Realm magicians, filling the air above the plains with a brilliant display of fireworks. To anyone looking up from the battlefield below, they appeared as twin columns of blue light. In one swift unison movement, their arms swung outwards long fingers pointing down into the center of the plain. Strands of mage energy twined through the four hands, then leaped outward. One in mind, one in purpose, the two magicians melded their power into a single long, shining filament of blue fire, flames spun like silk fibers. Stretching down from the pinnacle of the cliffs, the power flew until it hit the ground in a blinding explosion. Night turned to day, as a huge blazing blue circle formed on the ground, everything within it burned to ashes in no more than a single breath. Gale force winds blew in concentric paths, fanning the flames, driving the Dark forces back as they hid from the brilliant light. Dust and ashes, bones and broken flesh flew upward into a spinning tornado, bolts of electricity racing across the edges. Then, in a second thunderclap, the whirlwind resolved into the water-like black and white ripples of the vortex. High on the cliffs, both magicians staggered under the weight of holding the power in check, the vortex spinning and reverberating in nauseating patterns, threatening to break from their control. "Go! Drive them into it. Into the vortex!" Jourdain screamed from the cavern's edge, his bellow merely a whisper in the storm. But the soldiers nearest him took up the cry, and from mouth to mouth is echoed throughout the ranks, until it reached the front lines. Soon thousands upon thousands of voices, male and female, human and elven, gargoyle and troll, were shouting as one: "Into the Vortex." Swords flashing with reflected light, the Realm forces began to drive the light-blinded creatures into the nebulous center of the massive vortex. With cries of rage and frustration, the monsters were finally forced backwards, howling in fury and defiance, even as their bodies were sucked up into the whirlwind. Then, with a shrieking yell, one, then two, then three destroyers broke free of the ring of Realm fighters crowding them closer into the center, creating new avenues of combat, whirls and eddies of slashing claws and clanging swords spreading throughout the plains. Again it was a game of give-and-take, the each small triumph balanced by a loss, the senseless force of the vortex stealing away its first Realm casualty, then a second and a third. The cries of the fourth seemed to be carried on the wind to the mages fighting with the very universe itself to control the raging beast they had unleashed. Shoulders bent, eyes squeezed shut, veins nearly popping through his skin, Reinald stumbled upon his hands and knees. "Mulder..." his mind-voice called in despair. But Mulder was too caught in the struggle to maintain control to be able to respond, his body held stiff and upright, back ramrod straight, fists clenched at his sides, fingertips digging into the flesh of his palms. His head was tilted upwards to the sky, his eyes wide open, his mind burning within his skull. "Mulder..." Reinald gave one last frantic call, then collapsed to the ground in a broken heap. "Reinald!!!" Mulder screamed to the stars, not needing to look down to know that Reinald was gone, his mind shuttered into peaceful darkness, exhausted and empty. The broken link shot back into Mulder's mind and body causing him to convulse as the blue fibers whipped around him, lancing his skin, searing his eyes. On the battlefield below, the vortex shifted and swung, drifting to first one side, then another, swallowing everyone and everything in its path. Reaching deep down into himself, Mulder strained for every last bit of strength he had, drawing on the deepest resources, cannibalizing his body's own energy sources in unconscious desperation. Knees buckling, he came down hard on the rough stone, a strangled cry escaping from between his gritted teeth. The power swirled around him, barely contained, pushing to break free of the mage's control, pressing to explode free into the heavens. - - - - - In one instant the battle collapsed into a mutual retreat, Dark creatures and Realm defenders joining in one massive flight for safety. The vortex swung free, indiscriminately sucking up every living being in its path. The attempts of the few Realm leaders to restore order failed, then were abandoned as the raging tornado swelled to two, then three times its original size. It angled to one side, then swung to another at random, the cries of those caught in its path lost in the gale-force winds. Jourdain grabbed for his sword and pushed his way out onto the battlefield, charging against the flood of his own men, mixed uncaringly with the Dark creatures. He swiped the 'head' off one crawler as it slithered past him, then shouted as he saw a shell-shocked Karvan standing frozen in the midst of the chaos, staring up at the vortex, his sword hanging limply from his hand. "Karvan!" Jourdain cried again, finally squeezing through to grab the slender elf's silvery-shoulder and shake him. Karvan's eyes were bloodshot and dilated as they turned to look up into the war leader's face, taking long moments to recognize Jourdain. Once the recognition and awareness hit, the elf looked around him in horror, bolting backwards into the bigger human as a terrified, whining pack of soul-eaters brushed by him, commingling with a troop of ash-colored gargoyles. Leaning against Jourdain, Karvan glanced back up at the violent, spinning maw of the vortex and shuddered. "Get a hold on yourself!" Jourdain growled. "We've got to rally our people." Karvan stared at him in disbelief, hysterical laughter bubbling out of his throat. "Rally? Are you crazy? That THING is out of control!" "All the more reason to drive the Dark forces into it, it's our only hope!" Jourdain insisted. Karvan just laughed. "The prophecy has rung true, and we are doomed. Doomed!" He threw his head back and laughed bitterly. Karvan hit the ground in a pile of limbs and weapons, only barely missing being stepped on by a pair of wild- eyed horses bereft of their riders. Jourdain didn't spare him, striking out with his foot to kick the elf with the toe of his boot. "Get up, you helpless coward and get yourself together. It's not over yet, and I intend to keep fighting. "Coward? How dare you call me that, you overgrown hulk of human manure!" Elven temper aroused, Karvan leapt to his feet, brandishing his sword, only to meet Jourdain's grimly amused grin. "You son of a whore!" Karvan swore again, but he lowered his head and nodded. "OK, 'war leader,'" he said sarcastically, "just what exactly do you think the two of us can do." Jourdain frowned deeply, since he really had absolutely no idea what they could do. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. "There!" he spotted a stubborn group of trolls fiercely crowding a group of hunters back towards the unpredictable vortex. "Come on!" He seized Karvan's arm and half-dragged him through the stampede, using the bulk of his shoulder's like a battering ram. When they reached the small troop of axe-wielding trolls, both the human soldier and the horseless elf Rider joined in a desperate attempt to continue the fight, each praying silently that somehow the Mages would find a way to bring the vortex back under control before it swallowed them all. - - - - - Deep in the caverns below, Dana Scully fell to the rocky floor, her body laced with blue currents. The air within the cavern itself grew thick and heavy, the Gate behind her wavering in and out. "Back, get back!" Corvay shouted, pushing people away. "Evacuate now!" No one questioned the small aged elf's order, gathering the wounded up between them, healers, priestesses and soldiers alike scurried deeper into the caverns, leaving Corvay and the nearly senseless Scully behind. "Scully!" Corvay called out, trying to touch her, but a blue spark lanced into his hand, sending him sliding backwards across the floor. Scully moaned and shifted, her skin burning brilliant blue, rolling onto her back and stretching a hand towards the distant ceiling. On the cliff top, Mulder continued to hang onto conscious by a thread, mind lost in whirlpool of liquid fire, his open eyes sightless. The vortex slipped further from his control, threatening to escape him, but he held. For a few terrifyingly long instants, he kept control. He reached again for Reinald's mind - but the end of the link was dark and empty. He was alone... "Mulder..." Scully's voice echoed into the whirlwind of his mind. "Mulder...!" Her mindvoice was terrified and demanding at once. "Mulder..mulder....mulde..." It came again and again, bringing with it the very sense of her: the scented smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body, the color of her eyes. "Scully, NO!" He cried back down the link. "Get out, get out...get out!" But he was incapable of shielding her, his mind flying closer and closer to the edge of the yawning vortex. It pulled at him, teased him, drew him. All he had to do was relax and it would be over. "Mulder, no!" Her voice was louder, more insistent. It rang in his ears, flooded his awareness, yanking him back from the abyss. Abruptly, their minds fused, both tumbling as one small ball of awareness around the edge of the roiling vortex. Around and around they went, rocketed on the streams of power, until with one massive grasp for control, the Mulder/Scully meld seized onto one glowing strand of energy and then another. Ever so slowly they wove one incandescent fiber of energy around the others, until they secured the edge of the vortex in a gleaming blue web. The ravenous hole strained against the delicate strands entangled around it, but was unable to break free. For what seemed like an eternity, the joint mind continued to add to the web, layer after layer of energy, until the remainder of their strength slipped out in one final gasp. Together, they tumbled into darkness, not into the heart of the vortex, but rather into a soft, deep, warm place in the center of their being, in the apex of mind-link, two so fully joined as one that their bodies were left to fall where they were, the separate shells empty and abandoned. ----------------- When the vortex stabilized, drawing in upon itself and standing still like a stationary whirlpool in the bloody center of the plains, a few of the Realm survivors began fighting anew. In wake of Karvan's flashing silver blade, Jourdain's merciless iron sword, and the axes of berserk troop of trolls cutting bloody swaths through the creatures in their path, a new battle line was drawn. One by one the fleeing Realm soldiers felt themselves shamed by their precipitous flight, and turning with weapons drawn, chose a still-retreating monster and attacked. Pockets of combat formed in eddies of the stampede, blockages around which the flow stopped and rearranged. Like centers of precipitation in an over-concentrated salt solution, the small battles aggregated into larger complexes, elven tempers aroused in bright flashes of silver, troll cries echoing, terrified creatures of the night falling dead to the ground, or driven with screeches of outrage and helpless fury into the maw of the vortex. At long last, the tide had turned. The Realm defenders finally saw victory in their grasp and with fierce determination they seized upon it. Most still running in instinctive terror, the creatures of the Dark were unprepared for the abrupt assaults that came from all sides. They were separated, so tightly mixed with their foes that the power of their numbers was diluted. Packs were split, individuals isolated, so that now it was four elves chopping on a single hunter, two gargoyles slicing at a single lost soul-eater, a destroyer going down amid the raging cries of a dozen human soldiers. As the war continued, pockets of the Dark Army coalesced and put up violent opposition. The ground grew thick and slippery in blood, fighters stumbled over the fallen of both armies, each Dark death drawing its bitter cost. But momentum was on the defenders' side, and inch by gory inch, they surrounded and drove the disoriented creatures into the center of the vortex, watching in triumph as they were sucked out of the universe and into the unknown beyond. Night slipped unnoticed into a gray and cloudy dawn, and then into a muddy noon, as the conflict continued. It took yet another dusk and rising moons until the last Dark creature was thrown with strangled cries, half-broken, into the yawning vortex which spun and twisted, ever trying to break free of the invisible magic bonds holding it - but the strands of azure-colored magic held. The defenders had succeeded, and their yells of triumph broke into pandemonium as the realization there was no one left to fight slowly penetrated battle-hazed minds. In those precious moments of final victory, elves hugged trolls, humans and gargoyles, boundaries of race and class and station forgotten in an intense and tearfully overwhelming flood of joy. - - - - - Doing his best to cope with the ever-increasing flood of the wounded, Corvay was unable to help Scully. She lay still and quiet on the small pallet, her body going through the motions of maintaining life. Each time he passed, the little elf would reach out to touch her skin - still laced with static sparkles of mage- energy. But warm and flushed as her flesh was, his psi-trained senses easily recognized the absence of that part of her that was most fundamentally HER. Her mind - her soul - was lost, and he could not spare the time needed to attempt to bring her back, as long as she was apparently still alive. Perhaps she was better off wherever she was for now, he thought, his shoulders bent double under the weight of so much anguish and death. The cries of another injured soldier broke into his thoughts, and with one more saddened brush at the coppery hair of his apprentice - and friend - Corvay turned away to give the newcomer what little peace he could. Hours turned into days for the overburdened Healers. Sleeping in short shifts, they worked until their eyes were glazed, their skin ashen, their minds exhausted. Still, the stream of the wounded and injured continued to flow, everything from broken limbs to those so mangled that nothing more than a quick and merciful death could be offered. It was from delivering one of those death spells, his heart heavy with loss, that Corvay looked up to see Jourdain standing over him. "Captain," Corvay spoke wearily, accepting the supporting hand on his arm, however covered in blood. They were all doused in the vital fluid now, it had spilled over them all in a bright red waterfall, seeming to color the very air itself. "Healer," Jourdain found the words coming with unexpected bitterness. "It's over. We've won." "It's hardly begun," Corvay responded. Jourdain nodded, accepting the truth of the aged healer's words. The battle itself may have been done, but the results would be with them for a long time to come. He knew all too well that it had been only luck that had allowed him to escape with no more than bruises and gashes. He had seen far too many of his friends and comrades fall to their deaths. But now that the enemy was gone, he had energy left for only one thing. "Aldara," the name came through Jordain's lips in a breathless rush. Corvay didn't waste time speaking, simply lifted his hand and pointed towards the corner. Jourdain offered a simple thank you, then turned to weave his way through the tumult of the makeshift hospital. Finding Aldara still sleeping on a small mattress in the corner, he knelt down beside her and engulfed her hand in his and watched her with tender eyes. Laying curled on her side on the blood-stained mattress, she looked small and fragile, her face half-hidden by a curtain of wavy black hair. Her damaged leg was stretched out awkwardly below her, her chest rising and falling in uneven sleep. Just as he reached out to stroke the hair back from her face, she cried out - "Nooo!" - her voice slurred and pitifully weak. She shook and twisted, hands moving to protect herself from an imagined, or perhaps remembered, horror. "Aldara," he soothed, trying to restrain her as gently as he could. "Aldara, love, it's me - Jourdain. You're safe now...safe..." Her eyes jolted open, then focused on the face hovering over her. A combination of relief and resumed pain made her sink back down into the mattress. Running her tongue over dry lips, she tried to speak. "Jourdain?" His name was a question mark. He finally managed a real smile. "It's over. We won." His smile dropped into a grimace as he remembered the cost of the victory. "It wasn't easy," he added. "But it is finished." "Thank the Gods," she whispered hoarsely, trying to pull up into a sitting position. He restrained her with gentle hands. "Take it easy," he warned. Grasping onto his arms, she snuggled closer into his warmth, using him to support herself. The change on position jarred her leg, and twisting in her lover's embrace, she looked down at it for the first time. Wrapped in thick bandages, it was immobilized by a long wooden splint. Despite her effort, eyes squeezing shut in concentration, she couldn't feel anything below the knee, and what she felt above the knee was raw and searing pain. "My leg!?" she gasped, angling her head to peer up into Jourdain's eyes. He tried to avoid giving her the answer she sought, but her gaze bore into him. "I don't know," he finally replied honestly. "Corvay and Scully did the best they could." At the pain and fear burgeoning in her expression, he added quickly. "But it doesn't matter. You are alive. That's what counts." "Alive, and a cripple!" She said, pushing him away. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, refusing to release her. "You don't know that," he insisted. "And even if it is so, it doesn't matter. Not to me." "You say that NOW. Besides, it matters to ME!" she denied, tears stinging her eyes. "So you may have to use a cane, so what?" he protested. "So what? How can I do my job, how can I support myself? I'll be helpless." The tears began to flow more seriously. She'd always been totally independent, counting on her agility and fighting expertise to keep her safe and secure. The thought of losing that freedom terrified her. "One good leg, or two, you're still the best weapons trainer I've ever seen. Look how quickly you trained Scully. This won't dull your aim with a knife, or inhibit your ability on horseback, or affect your mind. You will be fine - and your leg may heal. Don't count yourself out either way." His voice turned softer as he continued. "But I was kind of hoping you'd consider doing something different." "Whhat," she sniffled against his chest. She did know how good she was at teaching fighting skills, but the thought of being confined by infirmity made her feel weak and sick inside. "I...I was thinking about maybe..." he found himself stammering, the words escaping him. "Maybe?" she asked, a slight glimmer of what he meant slowly penetrating the confusion in her mind. "Jourdain?" she prodded, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Well, that maybe you'd consider being a guard captain's wife?" He finished it in a rush, the words spilling into each other. A small smile warred with her tears, creeping up on her face, as she asked shyly. "And did you have any particular guard captain in mind for me to marry?" "Well, uhh, of course. I'd like you to marry me." He looked down into her tear-stained, almost smiling face, never more aware of its elven cast than he was at that moment. Could this fierce, lovely, half-elf woman really commit herself to a middle-aged human soldier like him? His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer. Aldara hesitated, her delight at the offer she had dreamed of for so long struggling with her fear. She refused to marry him if he was asking her out of pity or responsibility. Elven temper so easily aroused, she found herself shouting at him, "Don't you dare marry me because you feel sorry for me! Or because you think you have to, because I'm hurt. Cripple or not, I will not be anyone's burden!" She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but she remained stiff in his arms, holding to her challenge. "Aldara!" Jourdain shook his head, expressing his feelings had never been easy for him. He was better with a sword than with words, better at battle strategy than relationships. In fact he hadn't had a relationship since his wife died - until now. But coming so close to losing Aldara had convinced him of how precious she was. Yet, the hardest part seemed to finding the words to convince her. He looked into her emerald eyes for a moment as she waited tensely for an answer. "Aldara, I want to marry you because..because..." he stammered for a moment, then placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up even close to his. "Because I love you. Because I don't want to lose you. When I heard you had been injured, I felt like a part of me had died. Aldara, I know I'm no prize, I'm older, and set in my ways, but I need you." He stopped and gazed into her eyes, his craggy features caught in such an expression of unguarded vulnerability that she finally relented. "I'd like to marry you very much," she replied, her smile deepening even as he claimed her mouth in a joyful kiss. She wound her arms around him and returned his embrace with delight. In the midst of all the horror of the war, sometimes the simplest things were the best. The very best, indeed. - - - - - After several long minutes of kisses and whispers, Aldara pushed Jourdain away and looked around her. "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "I wonder where Scully is?" she replied. Jourdain shrugged. "She must be around somewhere. Maybe she went out on the battlefield to help the wounded." "Yes," Aldara shivered at the thought of so much carnage. But then as she turned back to Jourdain she caught a glimpse of a still form on the neighboring pallet, red hair strewn across the mattress. "Jourdain, there!" Aldara cried, pointing over his shoulder. He pulled back onto his heels and angled his body around to look behind him. There, unnoticed before in his concern for Aldara, was the unconscious Scully, her skin waxen, her bright blue eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Realizing that Aldara was not going to accept remaining where she was, Jourdain swiftly scooped her up in his arms and carried her the few feet over to Scully's bed. He sat her down on the edge, cautious of her damaged leg. "I'll go find Corvay. He should know what happened." Aldara nodded, reaching out to gently stroke her unresponsive friend's cheek. Across the room, Corvay was delivering a rapid-fire set of instructions to a pair of brown-robed human healers. Jourdain pushed up behind the small elf, towering over him like one of the stone columns at the entrance to the plains. Corvay felt the large, brooding presence at his back, but refused to acknowledge it until he was finished. As the other two healers scurried away, Corvay straightened his back and pivoted to look up at Jourdain, bristling with impatient authority. "What is it now, Captain?" "Traveller Scully is hurt!" Jourdain pointed to where Aldara was bent over Scully's unconscious figure. "I know, I know." Corvay's tone dropped from brusque to sorrowed. He shook his head. "I've never dealt with the effects of being life-bonded to a mage before - it's never happened before." "What happened?" Jourdain questioned intently. Corvay shook his head. "She was fine, doing a superb job, when suddenly she just collapsed. Her skin started glowing with mage-energy, nearly creating a full-scale Mage-storm in here. We had to evacuate the cave for hours. I stayed with her, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even touch her. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. She convulsed, then lay still. After a while, enough of the magic faded so that I could move her to the pallet in the corner and we were able to start using the cave again. I've checked on her every chance I get, but there's no change. I THINK she's with him, with Mulder, somehow. Perhaps he was handling too much power and it overflowed down the life-bond. I just don't know." Jourdain frowned, as much as respected and liked both Reinald and Mulder, he didn't like messing with Mage talents. The power was unpredictable at best, destructive at worst. "Isn't there anything you can do for her?" he asked, his deep voice roughened with worry and tension. "Perhaps, if I had time and strength to spare I could try to reach her mind. But that is a slow process, and requires my full attention." The deep-etched lines in Corvay's face dug a little deeper as he scowled. "For now, I have thousands in more dire need." As Jourdain opened his mouth to protest, Corvay waved his long-fingered hand in the air between them. "She is alive and resting comfortably. For all I know at present, that sleep could be exactly what she truly requires." At Jourdain's disbelieving look, the elf sighed. "I care about her, too, Captain. She is the finest apprentice I've ever had. And remarkably honorable for a human. I do not want to loose her, but there is little I can do right now. Perhaps a Mage like Reinald would have more understanding of what occurred." "Where is Reinald?" Jourdain glanced around the busy cavern as though expecting to see the blue-robed, white-crowned figure of the Royal magician suddenly appear in a puff of smoke. "For that matter," he continued, "Where in the Realm is Mulder?" "I don't know," Corvay replied. "I assumed they were busy with the battle. From what happened to Scully, they must have been handling immense amounts of mage-energy." "Yes, " Jourdain concurred, his memory of the vortex and the magestorm surrounding it all too frighteningly clear. "But that should have been over by now..." The tall, bulky human and the little elf suddenly stared at each other, the same shocked concern evident on their faces. "If Scully was hurt, then what might have happened to Mulder?" Jourdain felt his stomach sink. "Given that they are life-bonded..." Corvay frowned even deeper. "We just don't know what to expect from a mage's bond." As sudden commotion at the nearby Gate heralded a new influx of casualties, interrupting their conversation with the cries of the injured. Corvay took a deep breath and gave Jourdain a sorrowful look. "That's okay, Healer. Go on, I'll go find Mulder and Reinald." Jourdain said. "Good, good." Corvay replied absently, already brushing past the soldier towards the incoming wounded. - - - - - After forcing his way though four Gates and five crowded caverns, Jourdain finally reached the last Gate - the one that would lead him to the cliff-top Reinald and Mulder had used as a staging ground for their spell. Along the way, he had been hugged, pummeled, danced around in circles by hysterical soldiers of all races. The massive caverns echoed with the bizarre mixture of the groans of the injured and the jubilant cries of the victorious. Normally Jourdain would be the first to celebrate, chugging down tankards of the thick foamy ale that was flowing in rivers among the surviving soldiers, but not now. Jourdain heard the warning bells in his mind chime louder and louder as every person he asked denied seeing the two mages since they had left to begin their spell. It was possible that he was simply missing them in the chaos, but an intuitive part of his mind kept insisting that something was wrong. Mulder would never leave his life-bondmate in such condition without being at her side, not unless he was in no condition to go to her himself. By the time Jourdain arrived at the final Gate, he was nearly running, his large size and obvious urgency forcing open a path through the celebration. Just as he was about to step through the Gate, two small gargoyles stepped into his path. Swearing violently as he nearly fell over them, Jourdain tried to push them out of his way. "You can't go up there!" One of them insisted, baring his teeth in anger at nearly being stepped on by the big human. "Get out of my way!" Jourdain rumbled, not in the mood to waste time arguing. "Mage Reinald left orders that no one was to go up there until he said it was safe!" The second gargoyle responded. That did make Jourdain slow down, as he knew full well that Reinald would not have given such instructions without good reason. But on the other hand, Jourdain's own instincts were screaming that something was seriously wrong up on the cliff, and that his friends needed his help. "Have you heard anything from either Mage Reinald or Mage Mulder since they first went up there?" he asked. "No...No" both gray-skinned gargoyles responded in unison, their ears begin to twitch nervously. "And no one else has gone up there to check on them?" Jourdain questioned. This time the two little creatures just shook their heads. "That's not right. I think they may be hurt." He swallowed and eyed the shimmering Gate nervously. In all of his rush to get here, he hadn't bothered to think about what he could run into up there. His back straightened with resolve. Whatever did happen, Mulder and Reinald were his friends. They needed his help; he was not going to let them down. "I'm going to check on them," he said with a confidence that was only on the surface. One of the gargoyles opened its mouth to protest, but Jourdain quelled it with a glare. Glancing at each other, and shrugging over the human soldier's foolhardiness, they sighed in unison and moved out of his way. Taking a deep breath, Jourdain stepped through the Gate... ...And arrived instantly on the dark wind-swept heights, the bitter cold of the air making him gasp in shock after the heavy humid warmth of the crowded caverns. Above him the moons glowed in the black night, surrounded by a field of diamond stars, so close he felt like he could reach out and touch them. Taking one careful step after another, Jourdain felt his way towards the cliff edge, getting as close as he dared to the precipitous drop down onto the shadowed plains below. His eyes focused intently at the place where solid earth gave way to empty air, Jourdain didn't see Reinald until his foot came up against a soft barrier on the ground. "Reinald!" Jourdain cried, dropping to his knees beside his obviously unconscious friend. As Jourdain touched the pulse in the Royal magician's neck, relieved to feel it throbbing at a slow, but steady rate, he finally saw Mulder laying a few feet beyond, sprawled like a rag doll on the weed-covered rocks. Forcing himself to leave Reinald for a moment, Jourdain went over to Mulder, again feeling some relief to find that he, too, was still alive. Kneeling between them, Jourdain considered his options, then stood up and raced for the Gate. Bursting through it, he grabbed the nearest two soldiers by the arms and propelled the startled men towards the Gate, shouting instructions to the watching gargoyles. "Get word to Healer Corvay that Mages Mulder and Reinald have been found unconscious, then get stretchers up here immediately. Move it!!!!" In mere moments, though it seemed like a lifetime to Jourdain, the two mages were being carried through the Gate and down towards the Healing caverns, only the slightest rise and fall of their chests indicating that they were still alive. ----------------- Sitting her quiet vigil by Scully's side, Aldara simply shook her head at Jourdain as he hurried over to her. There was no change. Jourdain frowned, then inclined his head towards the stretchers being carried over by two dusty green-clad soldiers and two brown-robed elven healers. "Oh no," Aldara breathed in sharply as she instantly understood. Attempting, and failing to stand up, she swore briefly as she remembered her leg. "They're alive," Jourdain told her as he drew her up against him, letting her use him as a crutch, knowing full well that she knew who the bodies were. "Like Scully, their minds seem to be gone, but they are breathing and have steady heartbeats." "Thank the Goddess for that," Aldara replied, willing leaning into his strength. "But what happened?" They both watched as Mulder was lowered onto the pallet that had been Aldara's, Reinald onto the next one over. "I don't know," Jourdain replied. "It could just be that the spell to create the vortex exhausted them, and once they've recovered their strength they will wake up." His voice was full of doubt. "But that doesn't explain what happened to Scully?" Aldara protested. "She's life-bonded to Mulder." Jourdain attempted to explain. "Corvay thinks that maybe the mage-energies Mulder was trying to control were too strong, and they flowed down the bond-link to Scully. He says she lit up with mage power like the castle grounds at summer festival just before she collapsed. No one's ever been life-bonded to a mage before, especially not such a powerful one, so we don't know the effect it could have." "Do you think they will be all right?" Aldara asked, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Jourdain shook his head sadly, tightening his arms around her. "I hope so...I don't know," he answered honestly. - - - - - //Dana Scully laughed into the wind, running barefoot in the sand, the brilliant blue of the endless ocean beckoning her onward. Chasing her, Fox Mulder grinned with delight as he caught her around the waist, tipping them both into the white- foamed surf. Twisting in his arms as they fell, Dana wrapped her arms around the satin-sheathed steel of his shoulders, pulling him onto her even as she hit the water with a splash. Mulder released her waist just long enough to support himself a tantalizing inch above her body, his hands pressing into the swirling sand, grinning down into her bright face as she laughed warmly up at him. "Come here," she demanded, using both her arms and legs to draw him closer. Echoing her laughter, he complied, their sounds of their joy turning from open laughter to moans of pleasure as they made love on water's edge, the tide washing slowly up and down over their entwined bodies.\\ - - - - - Hours had passed with no change. Jourdain and Aldara sat a lonely vigil by the three bedsides, waiting and watching for any sign of returning awareness. Mages Gera and Flordan had visited briefly, both barely able to stand in their own exhaustion. Aldara had looked to them for answers, but both blue robed magicians had simply shook their heads. Corvay buzzed by as often as he could, the demands on him and the other healers seemingly endless. All he could suggest for now was to let them sleep. "You should try to sleep," Jourdain suggested as he watched Aldara's eyes droop, then shoot open as she tried to keep herself awake. "No!" she protested. Then turning to look into his bloodshot eyes, she suggested that he get some rest. "I'll watch them for a while." "No, "I'll sit watch. You need to get some sleep. You are hurt too," he insisted. Just as she was about to start arguing with him, a small sparkle of her former vivacity awakening in her emerald eyes, the sound of a groan from one of the beds caught her attention. "Jourdain!" She cried, grabbing his arm and pointing towards Reinald who was beginning to shake and twist on his bed. Not wasting a moment, Jourdain picked Aldara up in his arms and moved around Mulder's bed to set her on the edge of Reinald's pallet. "Reinald?" the dark-haired half-elf called out, surprising herself with the depth of affection she felt for the white-haired mage. Before she had met Scully and Mulder, she had both hated and feared magicians, even the friendly and honorable Reinald. But now that had changed. She had begun to see them as individuals, the use of their power an extension of their natures. Reinald and Mulder were trustworthy because they were good people. Her father and siblings had been vain and selfish - so the use of their power had simply reflected who they were. That didn't diminish the horror that an evil person with the talent could cause, but she could begin to like and respect the ones who were honest and fair, who tried to use their gifts for good purpose. Reinald shifted in his sleep, crying aloud. "Mulder..." "Shhh," Aldara replied, reaching out to stroke his brow. "Reinald, can you hear me?" Behind her Jourdain stood silent and tense, worry and hope warring on his grizzled features. Reinald muttered unintelligibly for a moment, then silenced as his eyelids flickered open. Blinking rapidly as he tried to focus blurry eyes, he whispered, "Aldara?" "Yes, yes!" She urged, leaning back to share a grin of relief with Jourdain. "And Jourdain. How do you feel?" "Like I was hit by a lightning bolt," Reinald replied, rubbing his face with trembling hands. "Do you remember what happened?" Jourdain questioned gently. "I'm not sure..." Reinald stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I remember beginning the vortex spell." He shivered. "It was so strong. It kept trying to break free of our control. I started to get tired, I kept slipping under. I called out for Mulder, but he couldn't respond. Then I...I lost awareness. Everything went black." He shook his head, "I failed," he said, voice deep with grief. "I failed." "NO!" Jourdain corrected loudly. "You didn't fail. We won! The vortex stabilized and we drove the Dark forces into it. The battle is over and the Realm is safe." Reinald looked up at him, disbelief struggling with hope. "Won? Stabilized? But how?" "We assumed you and Mulder did it - at least the part of controlling the vortex," Jourdain answered. "It broke free for a while, then suddenly drew back, as though someone or something was containing it. It was like it was caught in a trap, unable to break free. Once it stopped moving, we were able to take control of the war, the Dark army was split and demoralized. It took almost a whole day and night, but it's over now." "Thank the Gods," Reinald closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him in waves. At long last it was over, and they were safe. But after a moment of enjoying the victory, the questions returned with a vengeance. "I still don't understand how the vortex was restrained. When I collapsed we were losing it, I can't believe Mulder held on his own." "He wasn't on his own," Aldara broke in, sudden comprehension lighting her thin, oval face. "Scully helped him!" "What?" Reinald sat up abruptly, his voice breaking into a cry as pain thudded through his temples. "Easy, easy," Aldara insisted, pressing him back down onto the mattress. Reinald hardly struggled, the fire lancing through his head convincing him to lay as still as possible. "Corvay says that Scully was working down here when she suddenly fell down and started to glow with mage-energy," Jourdain explained. "Apparently she caused quite a Mage-storm down here. After a while, though, it ended and she just simply collapsed. She hasn't woken since. You and Mulder were both the same way when I found you. So far you're the only who has woken up." "I knew she had some slight mage ability, but it was hardly enough for simple spells, much less something of this nature. I know she and Mulder are life-bonded, but even so..." Reinald shook his head. "I just don't know." "Will Mulder and Scully be all right?" Aldara asked worriedly, glancing behind her at their motionless, recumbent figures. "I...I THINK so," Reinald replied. "They should wake up once they've recovered their strength. At least that's the way it usually is for mages who have overtaxed their powers." Both Aldara and Jourdain caught the uncertainty in his tone. "But..." Aldara prodded. "It depends on how much they over-used their life- energies. And we're dealing with the unknown of their life-bond. It could help them," Reinald sighed, glancing from Aldara's pale features to Jourdain's weary face. "It could also hurt them - if one dies the other could easily follow." - - - - - //Hands laced behind his head, Fox Mulder watched the cottony whisps of clouds floating in the deep blue of the sky. A gentle breeze played with the tendrils of his dark hair, splaying them across his temples as he rested in the warmth of the sun. Curled against his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, Dana Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was fragrant and pure, a mixture of grass and earth, strawberries and pine, tinged by the unique masculine sent of the man resting beneath her. Her hand gently stroked the velvet of his skin, exposed by the half-unbuttoned white shirt, the tips of her fingers red and sticky with the juice of strawberries. A small pile of the fresh-picked berries lay beside them, cradled in a fold of the blanket on which they lay. Mulder closed his hand on hers, pressing it against the center of his chest, then lifting it up to his mouth. Slowly he licked at one sweet, flavored fingertip after another until Dana moved to pull herself up along his length, framing both their faces together in the shelter of her auburn hair which cascaded down around them a bright red waterfall, glowing in the midday sun. Hazel eyes danced under lazy eyelids as a slow smile teased the edges of his mouth. Eyes bluer than the sky above glittered in response, her breath hot against his cheek. Seductively, she began to actively trace his lips, slowly dipping deeper into his mouth, while his tongue reached out to wrap around her fingertips, catching at them with the edges of his teeth. Then his hand released hers and swept around to caress the bare skin of her back above the silk edge of her flowery dress. A soft sigh of utter contentment escaped her lips as she bent down inch by inch to finally cover his mouth with hers.\\ - - - - - Sipping at the hot tea, Reinald studied the sleeping Travellers with still-weary eyes. The flood of the wounded had slowed to a trickle, many of the healers getting their first chance in several days to sleep. Now it was the priests who were busy, gathering up the dead and committing them to the care of the gods. Too, too many dead, he thought sadly. And far too many still hovering on the edge. "Any change?" Jourdain whispered. "No," Reinald turned to look up at his friend. "If it was simple exhaustion, they should have woken up by now." He glanced back at the man and woman laying on the bed, the slow rise and fall of their chests the only remaining sign of life. Even when they had been moved from the Healing cave back to their original quarters, neither had showed any sign of awakening. "I'm afraid they are lost somewhere." Reinald shook his head. "All that power echoing down a life-bond. I have no way to know the consequences." Jourdain frowned, a newly etched gash showing in sharp relief against his cheekbone. He was tired of hearing how little anyone knew about the combination of a life- bond and mage talent. What he wanted was an answer, or at least some suggestion of a course of action. "Can't one of the Healers reach them, or another mage? If they are caught in some backlash of the spell, can't you undo it?" Jourdain questioned. "It's not that simple." Reinald took another deep gulp of the stimulating tea, grateful for the warm rush it caused in his belly. "Without knowledge of the cause - or the details of the magic binding them - it would be like looking for one grain of wheat in a field." His face brightened slightly. "However, a Healer may be able to get to them in a way a magician couldn't. Corvay is planning to try as soon as he has a chance to recover his strength." Jourdain nodded, relieved, but not surprised. The irascible elven Healer obviously had a soft spot for Scully, he had hovered over her at every opportunity. "Well, if anyone can reach them, it will be Corvay." Agreement flickered in Reinald's tired eyes, then he gazed down at the 'sleeping' couple. After a moment, during which Jourdain stood quietly at the end of the bed, the thin, white-haired mage spoke in nearly a whisper. "I just wonder if they are not happier wherever they are." - - - - - //Mulder handed Scully the wine glass, their fingers brushing as she took it from him, looking over the rim at him with a hint of a smile. He picked up his own glass and held it up between them, letting the firelight flicker through the amber liquid. Meeting each other's eyes, they clinked the glasses and drank the clear, dry wine in appreciative silence, no spoken words necessary to communicate the toast. The same thought - the same feeling - reverberated between their minds. "To you, my love," his mindvoice had caressed her soul. "To us, my darling forever," hers had whispered back, warming his heart. Resting her head into the hollow of his shoulder, the place that seemed made to hold it, she set the wine glass aside. He took one more swallow, feeling his throat cool as the dry alcoholic fluid evaporated as it went down. Then placing his glass on the floor beside him, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, fingering the silken gloriously bright strands of her hair. Sinking down onto the cushions in front of a roaring fire, they held each other in utter joy and serenity. "Mulder...." the faintest whisper of a voice brushed against the edge of his mind. He stirred slightly, ears perking to listen even as he tried to dismiss it. But it came again, a little louder, disturbing the edges of his awareness. It brought a rush of feelings, disquiet and fear, rage and sorrow. There was something he had forgotten, something.... Something he didn't WANT to remember. "No," he hadn't realized he said it aloud until Dana stirred in his arms, her face full of sleepy contentment. "Fox..." she murmured, gazing up at him, her face alight with such beauty that he lost all other thoughts except his love for her. Giving her a glowing smile, he bent to kiss her, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth. Dana felt her breath catch in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, reaching out to pull him even closer. Just as his arms tightened around her, a voice began to whisper in her ear, "Dana...Dana..." She tried to ignore it, to lose herself in the ecstasy of her lover's embrace, but the voice refused to silence. Instead it grew louder, ringing in her ears until she was forced to pulled away from Mulder, grabbing at her ears. "Dana, what is it?" He reached out to hold her, the joy on his face slowly darkening into concern. Just as his hands closed around her shoulders, he too heard the voice again, insistently shouting their names over and over. "NO!" they cried in unison, as the warm safety of the room around them began to fade. Fear curling through them, they clung to each other as they found themselves adrift in a deep, black night, strands of blue fire wrapping its way around them as they tumbled through the void. A kaleidoscope of images, sounds, voices flashed by them, teasing them with half-forgotten memories that were gone as soon as they reached out to hold them. A saddened woman with deep black eyes and curly black hair stretched out her hand to them, changing in an instant to a beautiful girl-child with hazel eyes and waist-length black hair. Then it was a younger woman with bright auburn hair and a crystal glittering at her throat, followed by a man dressed in a long blue cloak with a shock of white hair. "Mulder...Scully...Fox...Dana..." Their names echoed in their ears in a thousand different voices, some pleading and sorrowed, some loving and welcoming, some angry and sneering. Yellow eyes blazed as an unnaturally-elongated arm stretched out towards them. Recoiling, they turned to see a hundred mirrored reflections of a woman with hazel eyes and long wavy brown hair, dressed in a brown suit. Turning yet again, they faced an older man, with contemptuous eyes, half-obscured by smoke. One visage after another spun past, blending and mixing into a nightmarish assembly of friends lost and enemies gained, sorrows forgotten, and horrors remembered. Clinging to each other, their screams echoed and were lost in the darkness that threatened to close in around them. But just as they found themselves sinking even deeper into the void below, a single commanding voice chimed in their ears. "Come!" it demanded. "Return," it insisted. "Follow me..." it urged. One arm still wrapped in a death grip around Scully, Mulder reached out to the silvery, blue-tinged strand that quivered with the sound of the voice. Somehow able to close his fist around the pulsing fiber, he held to it tightly, letting it pull them both upwards. Once the motion began, they flew along the vibrating strand with increasing speed, Scully releasing one of her hands from Mulder's shoulder to grasp onto it, stabilizing them both. Confused, exhausted, frightened, they followed the ever-guiding voice meekly, letting it take them where it willed. Upwards they spiraled, darkness giving way to a nearly blinding light. Just at the edge of the glowing incandescent source, they paused to stare deeply into each other's eyes. Both felt the desire to slide back into the darkness they had left, into the serenity of world they had created for themselves in the apex of their love, warring with the call to return to the worlds they had left behind. It would be so easy to stay lost together, sheltered in their private world. To forget the pain and sorrow of their past lives. However, before they could allow themselves to slip backwards, two of the voices sounded again: "Fox, don't leave me..." a child's voice sobbed. "Dana, come home..." a woman's voice cried. Hesitating, they hovered for a moment, then accepted the decision echoed in each other's eyes. In silent communion, they slid apart until they were linked only by clasped hands and dove together into the center of the light.\\ - - - - - Gasping for breath, Corvay let go of Mulder and Scully's hands and collapsed backwards into Reinald's waiting arms. Not needing to be asked, Jourdain rushed over to help the mage carry the Healer into a waiting chair. Letting the big soldier support the small, barely conscious elf, Reinald reached for a cup of the restorative potion and pressed it up against Corvay's whitened lips. "Drink this," he urged, ignoring the elf's attempts to push him away. Finally Corvay gave in, taking first a small sip of the warm, sweet liquid and then a larger gulp. "Are you all right?" Reinald asked. "I...yes, I'll be fine." Corvay spoke in a rough whisper as even his pointed ears seemed to droop. "What happened," Jourdain questioned urgently. "Did you..." "Just need to rest..." Corvay interrupted, closing his eyes and slumping down into the chair, slipping instantly into sleep. Jourdain and Reinald exchanged worried glances, Corvay had spent nearly two hours in the trance, leaning over the unmoving, unresponsive Travellers. If he hadn't succeeded in reaching them, then... "Mmmmaaagh," came a muffled groan from the direction of the bed. Reinald nearly dropped the cup as he and Jourdain rushed over to the bed. Mulder was rubbing his eyes with the back of one arm, his body shivering as the muscles began to awaken. Beside him, Scully twisted and yawned, her eyelids blinking rapidly. "Mulder! Scully!" Reinald cried, reaching out to shake Mulder's shoulder in an explosion of joyous relief. "Wwwhat?" Mulder groaned aloud, his eyes slowly opening to focus on the face hovering over him. "Reinald?" he questioned. "Yes, yes!" the white-haired mage shouted gleefully. Both Mulder and Scully cringed in response, Scully pressing her hands against her throbbing head. "Ooooh," was the best she could get out. Mulder eyed her, then the delighted faces of Reinald and Jourdain peering down at them, and sank back down into the bed, giving them such a woebegone, sick-puppydog look that, nearly giddy with relief, Jourdain and Reinald both broke out laughing. ----------------- It had taken nearly a fortnight to clean up the battlefield and set the slow process of recovery in motion. After the vortex was closed by the still-exhausted mages Reinald and Mulder, the Uriin plains became one massive funeral pyre. Each race, each religion, each great house held its own sorrowful ceremony, releasing the souls of their dead from their mortal remains in huge blazing bonfires. For days the fires burned, throwing sparks and ashes up into the sky, visible for nearly a full-day's ride away. The smell of burning flesh and incense filled the air, painful and cleansing at once, washing away the stench of the Dark. Villages were reclaimed, fragmented lives resumes, late harvests begun. The surviving leaders of the various houses and races made their solemn way back to Fairwood Keep, their entourages barely a ghost of the flashy colorful displays that had first accompanied them there for Reinald's trial so many long weeks before. And yet, underneath the somber colors, the mood was brighter, the steps lighter than they had been before. A shadow had been lifted from the Realm, and despite their many sorrows, the people felt the first stirrings of hope for the future. As if in benediction, the sun broke through the clouds and shone in full glory upon the heads of the returning soldiers as they marched through the Fairwood castle gates. Mulder and Scully were grateful to settle back into their comfortable room with the big fireplace and large soft bed after so many nights spent sleeping in tents or caves. The most pleasant sight of all was the big tub, filled and waiting for them when they arrived dusty and tired from the long march. Lita straightened from pouring in another freshly heated bucket of water into the tub and turned to them with a glowing smile. "Welcome home Mage Mulder, Lady Scully." "Thank you, Lita," Mulder replied, draping his robe over the back of one of the chairs in front of the blazing fire and dropping into it with a sigh of pleasure. Scully simply walked over and gave the little elf a big hug, delighted to see her. Lita returned the embrace, then pulled away, saying brusquely, "Your bath is ready. I'll return later with dinner and empty it then." However, her eyes were bright as she bustled from the room. Scully went over behind Mulder and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back into her embrace, reaching out to draw her closer. She played with the dark locks of his hair for a moment, then dropped a kiss on the top of his head and withdrew towards the steaming tub. "Don't know about you, but I'm not losing a second before taking a bath." She sighed, yanking her tunic over her head. "I can hardly remember the last time I felt clean." "Ummm, I'll join you in a minute," Mulder replied, staring absently into the fire as it leapt and crackled in the huge brick hearth. Sensitive to the darkening of his mood, Scully stopped after removing her leggings and stared at the back of his head. "Mulder?" she asked, coming around in front of him, dressed only in the long white shirt with tails that nearly touched her knees. "What's wrong." "Nothing, Scully." He stretched, yawning loudly. "I'm just tired." She continued to gaze down at him, hands unconsciously closing on her hips in a stance that he immediately recognized. "Scully," he insisted, eyes deepening to a dusky brown. "I'm fine, it's just been a long day." "Uh huh," she replied, her face drawn and serious. "Mulder..." she sat down across his knees so that she could look straight into his eyes. His arms closed around her almost of their own accord, instinctively drawing her into his embrace. "Mulder, I don't want to go prying into your mind. If you don't feel like talking about whatever is bothering you, then I can wait until you're ready, but..." "No, no, Scully," he interrupted. "It's okay. I just felt a little, well, funny when Lita said 'welcome home.' We've been here for so long now, that this does feel like our 'home' sometimes, and yet I'm also well aware that we don't really belong here. I couldn't help wondering what was happening back on our earth." Scully nodded, reaching out to tenderly brush a wayward black lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know," she said sadly, "Sometimes I worry about my mother. After everything she's been through, to have me just disappear again like this - and you as well. I wish there was a way to let her know that we are safe and well." "Me, too." Mulder responded. "You're lucky to have a family like yours. They're good people," he managed a teasing grin, "even if your sister is a bit weird." Scully laughed. "You're hardly one to talk about being 'weird,' 'Spooky.'" "Touché, Scully," Mulder said. Then his face fell. "My parents won't even notice I'm gone." "I'm sure..." Scully started automatically, then paused. She'd never met his parents, but she'd picked up enough during their years of partnership, and through the growing mind-link, to have a pretty good picture of his family, especially after sharing his nightmares. Mulder caught the edges of the hurtful images going through Scully's mind, and he grimaced in response. "The only person in my family who really cared about me has been gone much longer than I have." His voice was deep with sorrow. "Samantha." Scully whispered softly, feeling the knife edge of pain strike deeply into her own heart as it plunged through his. "Samantha," he echoed, and suddenly it was though the shadowy figure of a slender eight year-old girl with a waterfall of black hair and dark hazel eyes was standing beside them. Mulder and Scully were both silent for a moment, then Mulder spoke the thought in both their minds. "If I stay here, I'll never have a chance to find her." "I know, sweetheart," Scully said, trying to project as much love and reassurance to him as she could. "And as much as I've come to love the people here, I want to go home too. But the vortex is dangerous. It nearly killed you and Reinald..." "And you," Mulder interjected, unable to avoid a pang of guilt. Scully gave him a fierce look, not even bothering to tell him aloud to stop the guilt. He sensed her thought and nodded, his eyes apologizing for him. Scully smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips with hers, brushing his mind with love and reassurance. Then she sat back and picked up their discussion where it had left off. "At least here we have friends and what could be a good future. With the Dark Army gone, the Realm will be a peaceful and pleasant place to live. If we make a mistake with the vortex, we could end up anywhere, including the place those walking nightmares came from." Mulder sighed. "I know. We can't even be sure of where it was we sent the monsters. God, I hope it wasn't to our world." "I doubt it," Scully said. "I don't think they'd fit all too well into Neumann's lab." Mulder grinned. "No, probably not. Still, we don't know where they ended up, and I certainly wouldn't want to be there with them." He paused for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration. "Nonetheless, Reinald did manage to bring Tarnor and us through properly, and he and I were almost able to control a much larger vortex than the one we fell through. Manipulating a smaller one ought to be feasible, especially if we work together." "Mulder..." Scully felt a whirlpool of emotion flood her. If only they COULD make it home. But what if they instead ended up in a far worse place - or dead? And it would be very hard to say goodbye to their friends in the Realm. She had never had very many close female friends, and she knew that she would miss Aldara terribly, as well as Jourdain, Tarnor, Reinald, and Andalor... Her heart warmed at how many wonderful people they had befriended here. Still, it would be so wonderful to see her family again. "We don't have to make a decision tonight," Mulder suggested as with his emotions in a turmoil, he felt her uncertainty augmenting his own. "We're both exhausted, hungry, and very dirty. How about we take that bath, eat dinner, and sleep on it." Scully smiled. Maybe some of her rationality was finally rubbing off on her impulsive imaginative lover. It was definitely about time. Standing up she took his hand and led him over to the still-waiting tub of steaming water. - - - - - Two full days were spent in preparation for the victory celebration. The castle was filled to bursting with people, most running here and there on one errand after another. The courtyards were covered with brightly colored tents, the stables crammed with horses and other livestock. The gargoyles took possession of the dungeons, the elves spread out into the nearby woods. The Great Hall was stripped and scrubbed from floor to ceiling, the massive tapestries washed by long rows of women, voices raised in melodic song as they worked. The castle kitchens were like a furnace, all of the ovens working at once. The surviving villages all contributed food and grain, wine and meat, and a surfeit of expert cooks. When Aldara's security forces weren't breaking up brawls and drunken pranks, caused by huge quantities of rich, intoxicating ale that was flowing out of barrels and down thirsting throats, they were busy separating would-be chefs flailing at each other with iron pots, arguing over whose recipe for soup or stew was the best. Nonetheless, most of the fighting was done in a good-hearted manner, and even the Dordinal rowdies were in pleasant moods. The shadow was gone, and the sunshine streamed down on Fairwood Keep in bright and glorious streams of warmth. Despite the almost-exasperating amount of cavorting and merry-making, the castle staff still managed to get the job done in record time. The cleansed tapestries were re-hung on gleaming stone walls, rows of high-backed, satin-cushioned chairs were set up along each of the long walls. The throne-chair was carried down out of the storeroom by four large trolls, set up on a small platform at one end of the hall, and endlessly fussed over by half-a-dozen castle staff under the direction of the castle steward - who seemed about ready to tear his hair out by the end of the second day. Nonetheless, the castle was fully prepared by nightfall prior to the day of celebration. Every square inch of the castle and its grounds had been scrubbed clean, with only one exception. "Get out!" Reinald stormed at the pair of elves scrubbing at the chalk marks on the floor of his workroom. Both squealed in fright, one dropping her brush as she attempted to scramble to her feet. But the floor was wet and she slid down to land on her little round bottom on the floor, brightly-shod feet knocking over a bucket of soapy water, red-ribboned yellow braids flying. "Now look at what you've done! I TOLD that idiot steward Rurvic to leave my room alone!" the infuriated magician raged. The carefully designed spell diagram on his floor was completely ruined. It had taken him hours to plan it out, and now he'd have to start from scratch. Even the most carefully-shielded mages can lose their tempers, and the air in the room began to grow heavy with moisture as Reinald moved to stand glaring fiercely down at the utterly terrified - and soaked - young servants. The one who had fallen stared up at the blue-robed man glowering over her like a terrified rabbit, the other cowered and sobbed beside her. Just as Reinald reached out to yank the yellow-haired one to her feet, an amused voice sounded from the doorway, "What's this? Terrorizing the staff?" Reinald turned to direct his glare at Mulder who was indolently leaning against the heavy oak doors, his arms crossed across his chest, ever so slowly shaking his head. "These fools ruined my spell - it was brand-new and I didn't even have the chance to write it down on parchment yet. Hours of work lost." Reinald was still blazing angry, though his friend's good humor was slowly breaking through to him. "Well, I doubt it's their fault," Mulder said gesturing to the frightened elves. "You know how busy everyone is. Someone just forgot to tell them to skip your room. Look, I got a good look at the diagram before she knocked the bucket over. I can do the basics, and you can fix the little bit the they had erased." Mulder grimaced. "I could use the escape from out there. Someone just tried to clean ME, clothes and all." The comical look of annoyed disbelief on the other Mage's face was too much for the usually even-tempered Reinald and he started to chuckle. Mulder grinned, then didn't waste a second hustling the two elven servants from the room. As he was closing the door behind them he told them to pass the word to leave the Royal Magician's quarters alone. Both quite certain they had only barely escaped some horrible fate, they bobbed their heads and scurried away, brushes and pails in hand. "You gave those two quite a scare," Mulder noted. "I know," Reinald frowned. "But sometimes it's the only way to get some privacy around here, especially when Rurvic is on one of his cleaning binges. The last time I let him get his people in here, they decided to polish and wax the Oracle Cloud. It took a week to get the stuff off of it!" "I can imagine!" Mulder said. "They corralled me this morning to levitate a couple of gargoyles so they could scrub the kitchen ceiling. Apparently a pair of cooks got into a fight over which spice to use in a stew, and one threw the pot of boiling stew all over the room, including the ceiling!" Reinald shook his head and lowered himself into his chair, reaching automatically for the teapot. "I understand the need for a proper victory ceremony, but I wish I could just disappear for a few days before and after it." Pouring the tea into two mugs, he handed one out to Mulder who accepted it gratefully, perching himself on the edge of a small table. "Yeah. I don't know whether to offer to help, or just try to disappear. Scully is busy with Corvay trying to heal the recovering soldiers. I feel almost useless." "I'm sure she relies on you heavily," Reinald said reassuringly, focusing sharp gray eyes on his friend. "But something else is bothering you, isn't it?" Mulder nodded solemnly, then hesitated. "Reinald, I...uh, Scully and I... I know this is a bad time, but we've been thinking..." "You want to go home," Reinald finished for him, his expression saddened, but not surprised. "Yes," Mulder took a deep swallow of the tea, then met the other man's eyes directly. "We both have families. Well, Scully has a family, and I have a sister who...needs me. We've talked about it - about nothing else - for a couple days and while we both know how risky the vortex is, we both feel we have to at least try." "There's no guarantee we can get you to the right place," Reinald warned. "You could end up in a dangerous place. And that's even assuming you live through it again." "I know, I know," Mulder replied, setting down his tea and leaping up to prowl the room. "But this, the Realm, it isn't our home. We don't belong here." "You could belong here," Reinald offered. "You have both done us a great favor at risk to your own lives. I promise you we will repay you well, if you choose to stay. I've been thinking of retiring as Royal Mage, Mulder. I'm getting old, and tired of the politics. You could take the position. Andalor trusts and admires you. You would have a home here for as long as you wanted. Or if you wanted to settle in a quieter place, there are hundreds of villages that would compete for you to be their town mage. And Scully will always be needed, and welcomed, as a healer anywhere in the Realm." Mulder paused in his pacing and turned with a warm smile. "I'm glad we were able to help and we very much appreciate all the kindness you have shown us. Believe me, we've thought seriously about staying. We've made good friends here, some we would rather not leave behind." His face settle into a serious expression. "But we have to try to go home. We both have unfinished business there, as well as people who are depending on us." "I understand," Reinald responded. "and I'll do my best to help. But I would ask that you keep this between us until after tomorrow's ceremony. There will be enough intrigue going on as is. Andalor is young, and there are still factions of the nobles that would like to see him - and me - replaced. It is vital that everything goes smoothly. Afterwards, we can tell the Prince privately and then begin to make plans." Mulder nodded agreement. "WE certainly don't want to spoil the party. Afterwards is soon enough to tell people, and we'd rather not make a big production of this anyway. If we can slip away quietly after saying private goodbyes to our friends, that would be best." "Good." Reinald said, though he didn't feel happy about any of it. He was suddenly realizing just how much he'd come to like and rely upon this unusual young talent and his extraordinary life-bondmate. He knew he'd miss them terribly, however, he also understood their desire to return to their interrupted lives. "Come, come," he said briskly, masking his emotions. "We'd better get started fixing this mess." Both men turned to stare down at the smeared, watery- mess on the floor and sighed. - - - - - The day of the Victory celebration dawned bright and warm, the sun rising in a clear blue sky. In the absence of the Dark shadow, the Realm had returned to its normal summer weather, hot days and cool nights, lush greenery and a slightly tropical humidity in the air. Curled up against Mulder, her head pillowed on his chest, Scully stirred and yawned, her breath brushing against his skin. He shifted in his sleep, his arms still tight around her. Trying to disentangle herself without disrupting him, she managed to reach a sitting position, gazing drowsily out between the bed curtains just as Lita came into the room. The little elf was dressed in bright red and green dress, her dark hair bound up in tiny, but elaborately swirling braids. Behind her came two more elven servants, both mirror images of Lita, the same decorative clothes and fancy hairstyles, their pointed ears framed in heavy black braids. All three were carrying clothes, Lita's arms filled with a bundle of shimmering blue and white silk, a small corner of black leather peeking out over her elbow. Between them, the other two were carrying a heavy load of emerald green velvet with gold fibers woven through the edges. Sitting up in bed, Scully gave them a friendly smile, clutching the heavy brocade coverlet up against her breasts, her auburn hair cascading down over her milky-white shoulders. "Are those for us?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement at the sight of the dress the two elven maidens were laying over the back of one of the chairs. Practical as she might be, Dana Scully still had weakness for beautiful clothes and she had been concerned about what she was supposed to be wearing to the ceremony. All attempts to question Lita on the subject over the last couple of days had been met with a mysterious smile and instructions to leave it to the elf. To Scully's eye, it appeared that Lita had outdone herself. Lita smiled broadly as Scully bounded from the bed, wrapping her robe around her shoulders. At the sound of giggles from the other two elves, Lita admonished them fiercely, setting them to work preparing the water for the tub. Once they were busy stoking the fire and setting iron buckets of water into the hearth, still exchanging grins and giggles, Lita relaxed and drew Scully over to show her the dress. "I made it myself," Lita said proudly. "The velvet is from my home village, and the embroidery is pure silk." The tiny woman's face beamed with delight as Scully fingered the soft fabric, exclaiming at its beauty. "It's stunning!" Scully brushed a tear out of the edge of her eyes. "Thank you so much. I just hope I can do it justice." "I have no doubt that you will," Mulder surprised her, placing his hands on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the burnished top of her head. "No one will be able to hold a candle to your beauty," he complimented romantically, stirring a fresh round of giggles from the elves. Lita silenced them with a frown, then whisked them out of the room. "Be quiet, and go get Mage Mulder and Lady Scully their breakfast." Bobbing and grinning, they scurried from the room. Lita sighed dramatically. "My nieces are still very young, I'm afraid." Wrapped in each other's arms, Mulder and Scully both smiled in amusement. - - - - - After enjoying a quick bath together, they downed a breakfast of fruit and fresh bread, supplemented by the stimulating tea. Then gathering up the clothes Lita had brought for him, Mulder shut himself into the small bathroom, leaving Lita and Scully to go on with a detailed discussion of hair styles. His one comment, that he didn't understand why she didn't just leave her hair down, netted him such a pair of outraged glares that he decided that absenting himself from the proceedings was the safest course of action. He easily donned the black pants, white shirt, and long embroidered blue tunic. Cinching the heavy silver belt around his waist, he had to admit some satisfaction with the result. The clothes fit as they had been made for him, which they almost certainly had, and the deep blue suited his dark coloring and tanned skin well. He spun in front of the mirror once, then grinned unabashedly at his reflection. Not bad, but he'd still be better off leaving the fussing to the women. Lita was vigorously combing Scully's hair, the two chatting away easily, as he stepped out of the bathroom. Lita smiled appreciatively at him, then buried her attention into preparing Scully's auburn tresses, while Scully just stared at him. Seeing Scully's blue eyes widen at the sight of him, he automatically began to check himself. He hadn't thought he'd put anything on wrong, it wasn't that much different from their usual outfits. He'd actually thought he looked rather all right. "Is something wrong?" he asked plaintively, earning a snort of amusement from Lita. Scully recovered her composure and gave him a look of pure appreciation. "No. You look wonderful!" Better than wonderful, she thought. The tunic graced his lean figure perfectly, highlighting the broadness of his shoulder and his height, the blue color contrasting with the black of his hair and gleaming hazel of his eyes. She liked the slighter longer length of his hair, the way the bangs draped across his temples, the bottom strands curled against his neck. He looked both handsome and distinguished - and very sexy in an inutterably masculine way. "Oh, thanks," he replied with relief. "I thought that I'd go catch up with Reinald for a while you get ready." "That's a good idea," she said, her lips curling upwards in a smile. "Better give us a couple hours at least." "Women." he said, shaking his head as he escaped out the door, only just missing being hit in the back by her towel. - - - - - The period of banishment had been worth it, Mulder decided as Lita finally allowed him to re-enter his room. Scully was standing by the edge of the bed, and the sight of her stole his breath away. Her hair was gathered up into a loose pile of brilliant curls on the top of her head, interwoven with gold strands that mirrored the shimmering embroidery on the sleeves, hem, and bodice of her deep emerald gown. A few copper- colored tendril of hair settled against the smooth porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders. The bodice of the gown framed her breasts in warm velvet folds edged with white lace, dipping precariously between them. The shoulders of the gown were settled just off the tops of her shoulders, the sleeves ending at her wrists in froths of white lace. The thick green velvet fit her figure like a glove, accentuating her chest, gathering tightly in a gold clasp at her waist, flaring over her hips and down to her feet, which were shod in matching slippers with gold twine wrapped around her ankles. "Scully," he gasped her name, all of his emotion flooding out from him, washing over her in waves of loving admiration. A smile of pleasure brought her reddened lips into a gentle upwards curve, as her eyes sparkled, the green of the dress altering their color to a deep sea-like aqua. She stretched out her hands to him, shyly asking him aloud if she looked all right. "Scully, you look incredible." He finally found the words to speak aloud, even though their bondlink was already being flooded with the intensity of the feelings she aroused in him, and the answering waves of emotion from her. As he took her hands into his and stepped closer to her, to gaze deeply into her eyes, Lita grabbed her nieces and yanked them from the room. Mulder and Scully never noticed the sound of the door closing. ----------------- Noon. Horns blared into the midday sun, announcing the start of the festival. Already, the dignitaries were in place for the procession into the Great Hall, the courtyard filled to bursting with people of all the four races, each dressed in their best finery. Humans wore the bright colors of their houses, red and green, orange, yellow and purple. The trolls were dressed in shining copper and iron armor, the gargoyles in multi-hued tunics, but the elves outshone everyone, their clothing shimmering like spun silver and gold in the sunlight, shade upon shade of yellow and white, augmented by encrusted jewels and glittering ceremonial daggers. Another blare of the resounding horns, and the doors to the hall opened, allowing the procession to move. Slowly, by order of customary precedence first the Head Priests of each sect, then the elders of each house marched into the hall, down toward the dais on which sat the small figure of Andalor, looking young and frail in the huge throne, and yet gravely regal. Each Representative bowed to the boy Prince, then led his retainers aside to their appointed place in the hall, creating a patchwork sea of colors. Once the Great Houses were in their places, the non- human Representatives followed, Mavor of the Elves, Kergidor of the Trolls, and Beerak of the Gargoyles. The final part of the procession was taken by castle staff and villagers, filling into the end of the hall in muttering, excited clusters, until the entire massive room was crammed, leaving only a small aisle down the center. Andalor rose slowly from his throne, using a small footstool carefully placed at the bottom of the giant wrought gold and iron chair. Once he was on his feet, he stood and waved out towards the crowd. In an instant the room fell silent, except for a few murmurs from some of the nobles, who fell swiftly to disgruntled silence when faced with the disdain of their fellows. A hushed expectancy fell over the room as the eight-year-old Prince took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice amplified by magical aids and the natural echoes in the hall. "People of the Kingdom of Fairwood, Races of the Realm, Travellers and citizens alike, welcome to Fairwood Keep. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace. A time of great celebration is us upon as the Great Dark has been driven from the land. By joining our hearts and strengths as one, we have cleansed our homes of the shadow that threatened them. The Time of prophecy is over, and we are victorious!" Cheers rang out thoughout the room, accompanied by a nearly deafening stamping of feet on the stone floor. After a moment, Andalor again raised his hand, and silence returned. "The victory has not come without losses. Too many of our peoples are dead, and far too many wounded, suffering, homeless. Now the time has come to turn our great energies to healing the injured, rebuilding the villages, planting our harvests. Just as we fought and won, together, so too can we build together." "But that is for tomorrow. Today is a day of celebration and joy. Henceforth, this day of the year will be a day of festival, a day to put aside the chores of daily life and reflect upon the bounty of the land, to be grateful for our families and homes, to remember the Darkness that came so close to stealing it all away. Remember always and cherish the pleasures of our lives. The Time of the Prophecy has passed, and we are at last triumphant." Andalor again raised his delicate hand for silence, as another outbreak of cheers and foot-stomping rippled through the hall. "Before we begin the festival, there are a few who must be recognized for their courage and dedication to the Realm." The boy Prince nodded to the side, and a group of soldiers came forward, each carrying a a draped object in their arms. The first knelt beside the Prince and handed him a jeweled chain. Andalor took it from him, then turned to face the assembly. "Reinald, Regent of Fairwood, Royal Magician, step forward and be recognized." A ripple of color shimmered as Reinald threaded his way from the right corner to make his way onto the dais. Halting in front of the Prince, he dropped to his knees. "In recognition of your loyalty, and the great risks to thy health and safety taken to defend the Realm, I, Prince of the Fairwood Demesnes, do declare thee a hero of the Realm." Andalor chanted ritually as he dropped the glittering gold chain over the mage's bent, white-haired head. Reinald smiled proudly up at the boy as he bowed over the Prince's hand, then stood up and returned to his place. The same procedure was repeated three times, for Karvan of the Elves, Gytural of the Trolls, who had been the troll leader who had kept his troop fighting even when the vortex had gone wild, and Tarnor of the gargoyles. From their position in the back of the room, having taken places beside Jourdain and Aldara, Mulder and Scully exchanged delighted grins at seeing their little friend's ears twitch in excitement as the heavy gold chain was draped around his neck. "No one deserves it more," Jourdain whispered in Mulder's ear,. Mulder nodded in agreement. After the four Heroes had been recognized, Andalor next took a pair of silver daggers from the next soldier in line. "Bravery takes many forms, some are found in battle, some in self-sacrifice, some with a man's sword, some in a woman's heart. It has come to the attention of the crown that two of my finest officers, whose bravery on the battlefield have been a shining example to us all, have exchanged the vows of betrothal. There can be no better way to celebrate the return of the life and light to the Realm than to sanctify a marriage. Captain Jourdain, Sword- Master Aldara, please step forward." "What?" Jourdain exclaimed as Aldara gasped in surprise. Mulder gave him a slight push, and Scully winked brightly at Aldara. "Go on!" she said. Aldara was still leaning on a cane, her leg recovering slowly from its injuries. Knowing how painful each proud step was for her, about half-way down the aisle Jourdain scooped her up in his arms and carried his shocked, but smiling, betrothed up to the Prince amid rousing cheers and raucous laughter. Setting her down carefully in front of the Prince, they both bowed. The Prince inclined his head towards them, then gestured towards a tall, white-robed woman, wearing a heavy wrought iron necklace and a heavy lace veil, standing on the edge of the platform. The Priestess came forward to take the silver daggers from Andalor, then turned to stand silently facing the betrothed couple while Andalor climbed back up onto his throne. As the boy wriggled into his seat, the Priestess raised her hands high in the air and proclaimed in a commanding voice, "before all assembled, before the all-seeing eye and heart of the Mother and all the lesser Gods, we bring this man and this woman to be joined as one for now and all time forward." She pointed the two silver daggers at Jourdain and Aldara's chests. "Two as one you shall be, husband and wife. Bring forth children to grace your union, be strong in support of the land, never break this bond sworn to this day. Do you Jourdain, Captain of the Guard swear your faithfulness to this woman, of your own free will." "Yes," Jourdain responded gravely. "Do you, Aldara Sword-Master, swear your faithfulness to this man, of your own free will." "Yes," Aldara replied, her cheeks flushed and red, her eyes glittering as she turned to smile up at the tall man by her side. The white-clad Priestess held the two daggers out to Aldara and Jourdain. Each took one and staring into each other's eyes, made a quick slice on their palms, then pressed the cuts against each other, letting their blood mingle as it dripped into a chalice held beneath their clasped hands. After a moment, the blood stopped flowing and the Priestess spoke again. "As Priestess to the Goddess, the Mother of All, I so bind these two as husband and wife. May SHE bless you with children, may the Gods smile upon your path." Bringing the cup up to her mouth she took a swallow, then offered it to Jourdain, who drank, then gave it to Aldara, who did the same, then handed the cup back to the Priestess who gave it to a servant. Jourdain and Aldara turned to the crowd and held their hands up in the air. Those in front who could see the healed scars where the cuts had been broke out into loud cheers, which were soon were echoed throughout the room. Standing in the back, Mulder eyed his hand, then sent a thought down their mindlink to Scully. "If you don't mind, I think I'd rather wait until we get home to get married." While Jourdain and Aldara returned to their places in the back, Andalor reclaimed the stage from the Priestess, scrambling back down from the throne far less ceremoniously than he had before. Mulder thought with amusement that the boy must be getting rather bored by now; but as Scully pushed around Mulder to give Aldara a hug, the Prince resumed his regal bearing and gestured for silence. His child's musical voice rang out over the sounds of the crowd. "The last debt the Realm owes could never be paid in full. Any offering I could make would be an insignificant return on the sacrifices they have made for us. Travellers, come forward." It took Mulder and Scully a moment to remember that meant them, then Scully took Mulder's hand and led him forward. She knew this kind of thing embarrassed him, but she knew how important this was to Andalor. Solemnly they walked the length of the small corridor and up to the dais, then kneeled down in front of the Prince. "You have both offered your lives for the Realm, even though it is not your home. In recognition of your loyalty and bravery, you are hereby granted full rights and citizenship within the Fairwood Kingdom. Visitors you no longer are, here will be a home for you for as long as you wish it, for any and all time you wish to remain or return to this demesne. As a symbol of your status, I give you each a sword." At Andalor's words, two soldiers stepped forward, each bearing a shiny iron sword with a silver handle, encased in a wrought leather holder, the smaller one dyed brown and green, the larger one a deep rich blue. Mulder and Scully each took the appropriate sword and bowed to the Prince. "Thank you," they said in unison, blue eyes bright with unshed tears, hazel eyes clear and gleaming. As the two Travellers stood to face the assembly, thousands of voices rang out in one thunderous cheer. - - - - - The celebration went on throughout the day and deep into the night. Mulder and Scully had eaten until they were stuffed, danced until they were exhausted, and drank enough foamy ale to make them both giddy. After a fumbling start, full of good-natured laughter and slight embarrassment, they had both learned the elaborate line and circle patterns of the Realm's formal dancing. More than once, Jourdain had swept Scully away, leaving a blushing, but lovely Aldara to lean against the strength of Mulder's arm. The early tension between the half-elf and the foreign mage was long gone, replaced by a an easy and comfortable friendship. Sometimes they just stood and chatted, Mulder's dry wit picking at the various dignitaries until Aldara was laughing so vigorously she could hardly take a breath. Or he would mimic her new husband, picking up her small frame into his arms and carrying her across the floor. Scully saved a dance to drag the sputtering Reinald out on the floor, the mage disclaiming the entire time that he did NOT dance. But after the first few steps, and a good shove in the back by a very amused Mulder, he gave in and danced quite well, enjoying himself immensely, even though he refused to admit it. Mulder winked at Scully as he retrieved his life-bondmate from her reluctant partner, getting a peal of laughter in return. Even the old Healer Corvay was not completely immune from the festivities, Mulder and Scully both delighted to see him lead Lita in one of the dances. One look at Scully's happy, but thoughtful, face and Mulder teased her silently, through their bond-link, "Now, Scully, don't even think about it." Her face was purely innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, as she turned to look up at him, the question in her wide, clear blue eyes and slightly parted lips. He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her neck, "No matchmaking!" She leaned back to look gravely up at him, "I wouldn't dare!" she said gravely, then bust out into laughter. "Come on, Mulder. Let's dance." After several hours, it was with a sense of relief that they finally escaped into Reinald's workroom, along with Reinald himself, Aldara, Jourdain, and Tarnor. Scully sank gratefully into the heavily-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace, her dress fanning out around him a rich folds of green velvet. Her cheeks were blooming with color from the dancing, her eyes were brilliant sapphires, gleaming with laughter and a bit too much wine. Mulder settled himself at her feet, long legs splayed out across the floor, leaning his head back against her lap. She rested one hand on his shoulder, using the other to gently caress his hair. He crossed his hand over his chest to hold hers and closed his eyes in pleasure. Jourdain took over the neighboring chair lifting his bride up into his lap. Aldara wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, resting in the security of his embrace, the bright yellow-green of her flowing silk dress spreading over Jourdain's cradling arms. Reinald eyed the two couples with unconcealed amusement, and when the customary offer of tea was refused all around, he pulled a third chair towards the fireplace, joining them while Tarnor got the fire started. Once it was blazing in the big hearth, throwing out streams of light and warmth, Tarnor squatted down on the floor beside Mulder with a sigh, rubbing his belly. "Ate too much, Tarnor?" Mulder teased. As the little gray gargoyle nodded, Scully grinned. "You're one to talk about over-eating. After today we may need to have poor Lita take out a seam in your clothing." Mulder shot her an exaggerated pout while the others laughed. Then he smiled, too, rubbing his own stomach. "You may be right." Once the laughter had died down, Scully turned to Aldara and Jourdain. "So what are your plans now? In our world, a marriage is usually followed by what we call a 'honeymoon' - the couple takes a trip together." "That's an interesting custom. Usually here, the newly- married stay at home with their families. In fact its customary that a member of both families is present at the first union." Aldara explained. "But our situation is a little different. Jourdain doesn't have much family still living, and mine has no interest in me." Mulder gave her a look of intense sympathy as Jourdain tightened his arms around his bride at the sadness in her voice and kissed the dark top of her head. "Your family is right here," he whispered. She angled her head to give him a glowing smile, then looked back at Scully. "Actually, I really like your custom. How long do these journeys usually last?" "Depends on the people involved, a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The idea is to give the newlyweds time alone together away from responsibilities." "I like the sound of that more and more," Aldara responded. Jourdain sighed, then grinned. "Why not? My men can handle cleaning up any stray creatures without me. And I've always wanted to visit the ocean." "Oh, yes, please!" Aldara said, her hair rippling down her back as she hugged Jourdain tighter, getting a snort from Reinald, mutual smiles from Scully, Mulder and Tarnor. "There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mulder commented. "Corvay explained to Scully about the rites of validation for a life-bond, in which the couple is left alone in a special house. Why is it so different from the marriage ceremony? After all, they're pretty much the same thing." "Marriages and life-bonds are often shared by the same two people, but not always," Reinald explained. "Most marriages do not involve a life-bond, though most life-bonded pairs do get married. Still, these are considered quite different events. A life- bond is a special joining of two individuals, private and unique to them. But a marriage is often far more than that, usually it is a joining of families and properties, involving questions of land rights, political alliances, and inheritances. Often the parents or siblings of the married couple have much more at stake than the new husband and wife. Also, its an ancient custom to have members of both families witness the...unh...proof of the bride's...ummm...innocence on her wedding night." He came to halt, his cheeks flushing bright red. Aldara and Scully both grinned at the mage's embarrasment, while Mulder looked thoughtful, absorbing the information. "What about you, Mulder, Scully?" Tarnor asked. "Marriage may be something of a formality with a life-bond, but have you thought about it?" "I think we'll wait until we get home," Scully replied, then added teasingly. "Mulder doesn't like the idea of cutting himself." "Home?" Jourdain and Aldara both stared at the Travellers. "You're not planning to try to go through the vortex again?" Jourdain asked worriedly. Mulder, Scully and Reinald exchanged glances, then Scully spoke softly. "I'm sorry. We meant to land the news on you later, in a better way. If there is a better way. It's just that I miss my family, and Mulder does too, at least..." she hedged, looking down at Mulder's darkening face. He spoke up quickly, deciding to tell them the full truth, however much it hurt to say it aloud. "My sister disappeared many years ago. I think she's still alive - somewhere. I swore that I'd never give up trying to find her. I can't do that here, I have to go home. And Scully's mother and sister and brothers must be frantic, not knowing what happened to her." Jourdain nodded, he understood about keeping oaths, especially the ones you made with yourself. But there was still the question of the vortex. "Manipulating the vortex already nearly killed you both once. Can you be certain that you can control the vortex enough to end up in the right place, and still alive?" "No, not for certain." Mulder admitted. "But this vortex will be much smaller than the one we created for the war. So it should be easier to control. Reinald was able to bring Tarnor, Scully and me through one alone, with my help, and the additional experience we've had, it should be easier this time." "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Aldara had to ask. She knew it was selfish of her, but she hated the thought of losing her friends, she had few to start with and Scully was as dear to her as any sister could be. "With your talents you could make a good life here. With the Dark gone, the Realm really is a pleasant place to live." Scully saw the pain in her friend's eyes, even through the alcoholic haze, and reached out to take her hand. "I don't like the idea of leaving our friends. You have been wonderful to us, and we've come to love you all very much. We thought very seriously about staying. But we have to at least try to get home. I'm worried about my mother. My father died recently, and having me just disappear like this will be very painful for her. I'm sorry Aldara, but we don't really belong here." "I understand," Aldara said tearfully. And as much as it hurt, she really did understand. "I'm going to miss you both a lot." "We're going to miss you, too," Scully replied, her blue eyes growing bright with unshed tears. "All of you." Her voice broke on the last word, and Mulder pulled her hand in his to his mouth so that he could kiss it, his mind sending waves of love and comfort through the life-bond. "Well, it's not like we're leaving tonight. It will take a while to make plans. No need to spoil tonight with good-byes." Mulder suggested. "That's right," Reinald agreed. "The spell will probably take days to work out. In the meantime, this is supposed to be a celebration. Anyone for another glass of wine?" "Sure," the men exclaimed, eliciting mutual sighs from the women. Tarnor had been silent up to this point, his ears twitching with emotion. Now he bared his alarming teeth in a wide grin and stood up. "I'll go see if there are any sober servants around," he offered, bobbing towards the door. When he didn't quite make it, coming to a confused halt then plopping to the floor with a loud burp, the others burst out laughing. "Forget the wine," Scully observed between giggles. "Better get Tarnor into his bed." "And me as well," Aldara responded. She hiccuped, then giggled again, as Scully couldn't resist commenting, "I don't think you'd fit to well into Tarnor's bed. Besides, I think Jourdain has other plans." "I think it's time to get YOU into bed," Mulder responded, standing up and scooping her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled against his shoulder. As Mulder carried her past the dazed figure of Tarnor, Scully leaned her head backwards to wink upside down at Jourdain and Aldara. "Enjoy your wedding night!" She dissolved into another fit of giggles as Mulder carried her through the door and down the hall, the room echoing with her mirth. ----------------- As a teary-eyed Lita left the room, Scully ran into the welcoming shelter of Mulder's arms. He clasped her against him, leaning down to kiss the tears from her eyes. She reached up to grasp onto his shoulders, letting his love wash over her in soothing waves. They remained standing in their embrace for a few moments, then Scully tilted her head up so she could meet his eyes. "I'm going to miss everyone here so much," she said. He leaned down to brush her lips with his, then nodded. "Me, too." He sighed, his eyes turning black. "I hated seeing Andalor so upset. He really wanted us to stay." "Yes, he's very attached to you," she said, remembering all too clearly the boy-Prince's unhappy response to their goodbyes that morning. It had been difficult for all involved, but especially for Mulder. He may not admit it, even to her, but she knew her life-bondmate well enugh to know that he was just as fond of the young Prince as Andalor was of him. "Just as Lita is attached to you." He whispered, catching the essence of her thoughts, even as he rested his forehead against the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. "I wish there had been an easier way to do this." "Me, too," she echoed, presing her face into the muscular strength of his chest, the place just below his shoulder which she felt was made just for her. Lita, too had been deeply upset by the news they were leaving, though she had attempted to hide it. Scully wished there was a way she could have avoided hurting her friend's feelings. "How did Corvay take the news?" he questioned, sending a mixture of concern and suppport down their mindlink in response to her pain. "Well," she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic. "I think he understood best of all. He wished us both well, and gave me a packet of his medicinal herbs." She angled her head up to look at him, a tentative smile on her face. Corvay had, as was usual with him, been very philosophical about the whole thing - and obviously unsurprised. "I think he knew somehow that we would need to leave once the battle was over, so was prepared for it, though I think he would have prefered for us to say." Her smile grew warmer. "He was gruff about it, but I think he'll miss me some." "I think he'll miss you a lot." Mulder responded, returning her smile. "I'll miss him too," Scully responded. "But I have to admit that I'm delighted with the herbs he gave me. I can't wait to be able to get them analyzed." His smile widened as he teased her. "Why am I not surprised, Doctor Scully?" "Beast!" she accused in a more lighthearted voice than he had heard from her in a while. He kissed her forehead, then looked down into her eyes, his expression becoming more serious. "I know saying goodbye to out friends here is hard, Scully, but I think we're doing the right thing. We belong in our world, not here." "You're right," she responded, her face saddened but certain. "All the training and then the trial and the war kept me too busy to think much about it, but now...now I just keep seeing my mother's face. Finding out we disappeared must have been devastating for her." "We'll get home, Dana," he reassured her, tightening his arms around her. "I promise." - - - - - The day Mulder and Scully left Fairwood dawned clear and bright, the sun beating down in shimmering waves of heat. Scully was already sweating by the time she had finished saddling her horse. The packs containing clothes, food, and the medicinal herbs Corvay had given her a a goodbye-gift were carefully secured to the back of the saddle, the sword that Andalor had given her was hanging down her back. She was dressed in a light green tunic over brown leggings, her feet encased in soft leather boots. As usual her hair was bound in a bright red, braided knot on the crown of her head. One final check of the girth and the bridle, and she knew there was no more reason for delay. She turned to Mulder who was standing by his horse, staring up at the castle, a somber expression on his face. He was dressed in a bright blue tunic, his matching mage cloak draped over the back of his saddle. The silver-gilded sword was hanging down his back, as crooked as ever, and she only barely resisted the temptation to reach out and straighten it. "Ready to go?" she asked. He turned to face her. "Yes, I guess there's no point in waiting." "I'll miss this place, too," she said sympathetically. "I know, Scully," he smiled softly down at her, his eyes bright as they looked into the beauty of her face. "Well, maybe this will help you remember us," Aldara's voice interrupted them as she hobbled into the courtyard, leaning on a silver cane. Behind her, Jourdain was carrying a large cloth bundle, tied with a bright red string. "What is it?" Mulder asked, curiosity lighting his eyes. "It's a tapestry. We had it commissioned the day after the celebration. Reinald set the spells himself, and Lita did most of the design work." Aldara explained with a hesitant smile. "That's wonderful!" Scully exclaimed, taking the heavy wrapped cloth from Jourdain. "We'll treasure it always." Mulder nodded agreement, his mouth curving upwards in a smile. "Are you sure you don't want company on the ride?" Jourdain offered, as he done repeatedly over the few days. "No, Jourdain, thank you. Tarnor will guide us well. You belong here with your bride. We wish you both the best." Scully replied, handing the tapestry over to Mulder, then reaching out to give first Aldara and then Jourdain a tearful hug. "Take good care of each other!" "We will," Jourdain promised, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders. Just as Mulder had finished securing the bundle to his saddle, Reinald rushed over to join them, his blue robe askew, his white hair sticking out in all directions. "I'm glad I didn't miss you before you left. I have something for you," he said, holding out a small pouch to Mulder. Mulder accepted it and opened the drawstring, pouring the contents out into his hand. It was a tiny version of the Oracle Cloud suspended on a thick gold chain. "It's beautiful," he said, eyes bright with pleasure. "I THINK it may allow you to contact me if necessary, even from your world. It will only work once, so be careful of when and how you use it." Reinald explained with some pride. Mulder's mage-trained eyes could see the blue strands of the spell on the tiny crystal, and he smiled gravely. "I will treat it with care, Reinald. Thank you." He pulled the chain over his neck and dropped the crystal under his shirt so that it rested against his chest. "Goodbye, dear friends," Reinald said sadly. "I hope you find your way home safely." "Goodbye," Mulder said reaching out to clasp his friend's shoulder. "We'll never forget you, all of you!" At that moment Tarnor led his small pony out of the barn and came up beside them. Mulder gave one more long look around at the place that had been their home for close to a year and sighed. "I guess we'd better get on the road." Scully agreed, turning to mount her horse with the ease of long practice. Once all three were mounted and ready to go, they rode silently to the edge of the courtyard, then turned and waved. Standing by the door to the stables, Reinald, Jourdain and Aldara waved back, watching together as the three riders guided their horses in a steady trot to the castle gates, then waving back once more, urged them out onto the road, breaking into a smooth cantor. "Gods go with you," Aldara whispered, leaning against her husband's shoulder. "May the Mother watch your path and guide you safely home." "Amen," Jourdain responded, still gazing out at the dusty road. "Amen." - - - - - The ride through the woods was quiet and peaceful. Except for the occasional deer-like animal and the ever-present chattering birds, they did not encounter another living soul once they left the Forest Edge Village where they had stopped for dinner and a good night's sleep. The last day of their three-day journey was spent mostly in silence, each caught up in his or her own private thoughts. Mulder and Scully were not shutting each other out, they simply gave each other the space they each needed to start putting the past behind them and begin the process of focusing on the future. Tarnor guided them easily through the woods, closing in on the vortex site hour by hour. They stopped for lunch on the banks of a small stream, refreshing themselves with the clear water and a meal of bread and fruit. Then they continued along their journey, in places having to dismount and lead the horses through the dense forest, in others having to use their swords to cut the heavy brush back from the heavily overgrown path. But Tarnor's gargoyle sense of direction was just as exact here in the deep woods as it was in the rambling mines and caves of his people's homes, and he brought them into the familiar clearing by late afternoon. A wide grin broke over Mulder's face as he gazed up at the massive oak he had fallen into on their first trip through the vortex. "Well, at least I know I won't get stuck up in a tree in the lab," he commented wryly. "That's if we actually end up in the lab," Scully reminded him. "Are you sure you can do this?" she asked Mulder anxiously. Now that they were actually here, her fears over stepping into the unknown vortex were rising sharply. Mulder swallowed, the instant reassurance dying on his lips. "I...I THINK so, Scully," he replied honestly. "If you want to call this off, I'll understand," he said, sharing her concerns. Though he thought he could handle this, he couldn't be certain until he tried it, and he was hesitant to put Scully in danger. "No" Scully said, her chin jutting forward in determination. They had come this far, she was not going to give up now. Not when they could be home in a matter of minutes - well, at least in the right dimension. She slid down off her horse, then glanced up at her partner, blue eyes bright as she insisted firmly. "Take us home, Mulder!" He nodded, accepting her decision. Dismounting from his horse, he took Scully's reins and handed both horses over to Tarnor. As he and Scully both removed the packs from the horses, he told Tarnor to take the horses out of sight. "The last thing we need is the horses bolting from fright." Tarnor bobbed his head in understanding. He looked anxiously at the couple standing on the forest floor in front of him, his ears twitching. "Good luck to you both. I hope your journey home is both quick and safe." "You, too, Tarnor," Scully responded, knowing she spoke for both Mulder and herself. Smiling she reached to tap the little gargoyle on his leg. "Take good care of Reinald, and watch out for Jourdain and Aldara." "I will," he promised, giving them one last glimpse of his toothy smile. Then he turned to lead the horses back through the woods, leaving Mulder and Scully standing alone in the fading light, small leather bundles piled at their feet. "Ready?" Mulder asked, throwing one of the packs over his shoulder by its straps and hefting the bundle containing the tapestry in his left hand. "Yes," Scully answered tensely, looping the other two packs over her shoulder, then reaching out to take his right hand. He threaded his fingers tightly through hers, then closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Scully felt the now-familiar power grow in him, blue strands of fire lancing up and down their clasped arms, filling the small glade with brilliant blue light. Quickly grounded and shielded, so as not to create too much of a Mage-storm, Mulder centered, then focused the power, slowly building the vortex spell step by step. Scully shuddered and moved closer to him as the wind began to pick up and the air darkened. Mulder's chant was silent, but it echoed in both their minds as it increased in intensity, the power leaping up around their bodies, then swirling out at his command to form a pinpoint of light a few feet in front of them. The small center of the spell wavered and expanded, seemingly drinking the very air itself. Concentric black and white circles formed one upon another, rippling in a mesmerizing flow of light and darkness. One shouted command escaping from Mulder's clamped lips and it burst into outward into a shimmering whirlpool nearly six feet wide. Wind whipped around it, making Mulder and Scully fight for their footing as they stepped cautiously toward the mouth of the vortex. Right at its edge, the paused and looked deep into each other's eyes. "I love Dana!" Mulder's mindvoice echoed in Scully's mind. "I love you Fox!" she sent back, grasping onto his hand so tightly her fingers turned white. Minds melding in one last exchange of affection and commitment, they simultaneously closed their eyes and stepped forward into the vortex... ----------------- ...and the Vortex spat them out into that cold, sterile room, five feet from the surface of the floor. "Aaaagghhh! God damn it!" "Mulder, are you all right? Oh, gods, my head!" Scully rubbed her temple where it had struck the counter. The room was dark, but certainly looked like the place they had left precipitously so long ago. The windows looked out on a night sky and rain spattered against the glass. The room was chilly, with a strange, foreign, metallic smell to it. "Yeah, I just twisted my knee. Not even back thirty seconds and I'll need to have x-rays. Incredible," growled Mulder. He dragged himself and his bundles over to the closest wall and sat leaning against it. Still dizzy from the trip through the Vortex, Scully grabbed her sack and crawled over on her hands and knees to where Mulder was sitting. "Let me see it. You're going to have to take your pants down, Mulder - they won't roll up and I need to examine your knee. It's going to be hard enough in the dark." "Just don't take advantage of me in my weakened condition," said Mulder. He did as she asked and grimaced in pain when the movement jarred his leg. "You should be so lucky," murmured Scully, examining his knee with her now curious mixture of conventional medical knowledge and Realm healing practices. She was quiet for a while, obviously trying very hard to concentrate. "Well, you did a nice job, Mulder - it's definitely badly sprained, with maybe some ligament damage thrown in for good measure." "Can you fix it, or are you going to make me go to the hospital and then I'll have to fill out all those insurance forms. I can hardly wait until I get to the space where it asks how the accident happened - "Well, I was returning through a vortex from another reality when -" They'll lock me up for sure." "In view of some of your other injuries and how they were acquired, I wouldn't worry about it." Scully looked at him. "Well, it will be interesting to see if psychic healing works in this reality. I was able to examine your knee the "Realm way", but it was more difficult to do and the results were less clear than they would have been in the Realm. Okay, hold still, let's see what I can do." She laid her hands on his knee and concentrated as hard as she could, reaching in with her mind to find the injured cells, help them heal, stop the small amount of bleeding in the tissues, and soothe the inflammation away. She was trembling with the effort when she felt Mulder's hand on her cheek. "Scully, it's all right, come out of it." Mulder's expression was concerned and he sought her eyes anxiously. She took a deep, tremulous breath. "Evidently, these powers don't travel well. Did I make any difference?" "Yeah, the pain's not so bad now. I got a feeling of warmth when you were in there. It's still pretty swollen, though." Mulder pulled up his leather breeches. "Do you think it's the same with all the extraordinary things we could do in the Realm? Do you think we're losing everything?" Scully asked, suddenly alarmed. "Mulder, our link!" Almost in a panic, his mind reached out to hers, and she caught and held it gratefully, caressing it in relief. She put her arms around him. "Oh, thank the gods, Mulder. It seems like we've given up so much to come back home, but that's the one thing I didn't want to lose - that feeling, that closeness. I don't think I could stand being 'alone' in there again." Mulder smiled gently, tracing her hairline, her eyes, her lips with his fingertips. "I guess life-bonds travel better. No, I couldn't stand it either." He kissed her slowly, sweetly, his gratitude for that special bond evident in his touch. They held each other close for some time, celebrating the survival of that most precious souvenir of the Realm. "I wonder what the date is? Too bad there's no calendar in here," Mulder said. "Everything looks exactly the same as when we left, but I suppose this lab hasn't changed substantially in years. I'm just assuming that the door is locked, of course. Uh, Scully, you wouldn't want to walk over there and check it out, would you? In view of my weakened condition?" "That's going to get old real quick, Mulder." Scully cautiously got to her feet, holding on to the wall for support until the dizziness had abated. Then she walked the length of the room and tried the doorknob. "Locked." She felt the walls near the door. "Evidently the light switch is on the outside of the room. So we're going to stay locked in the dark for a while. She walked back again to Mulder and sat down next to him on the floor. "Now what?" "Well, we'll see when it gets light. Kind of depends on what day it is. If we've had the lack of foresight to come back on a Sunday, we could be in here for a while. If it's a weekday, someone will be around, either next door or below us or somewhere. Hell, we can heave a piece of equipment out the window to attract attention if we have to. Or, I could try to unlock the door." "Too bad you don't have your burglary tools with you," Scully commented. "Well, you had the opportunity to see if your powers still worked, let me see what I can do with mine." She sensed him concentrate and go through the now automatic routine of centering, grounding and shielding. Scully saw the doorknob turn marginally, heard a metallic clicking sound from time to time. Sweat stood out on Mulder's brow from the effort he was exerting. "Mulder, stop. It doesn't matter. Not at this point, anyway," said Scully, concerned. "I see what you meant, Scully. It seems like it's harder to focus, harder to see what you're trying to do." Mulder sighed. "Well, it was nice while it lasted. Too bad, I was kind of looking forward to levitating a few bad guys." "Just as well, Mulder. Try explaining THAT to Skinner." Scully smiled up at him. They were quiet for a while, locked in their own thoughts. Scully sighed and opened the sack. She took out the tapestry and sat touching it wistfully. Mulder entered her mind very gently and sensed her melancholy. "I know - I miss them already too." "Mulder, did we make the right decision? It seems we left just when things were going to be at their best - the Prince back in good health, the Dark Realm forces defeated, that little wart Drellor in prison. Maybe we should have stayed around for a while, to enjoy it while we could, without the training and the fighting and the blood and the horror." He held her closer and stroked her hair. "The longer we stayed, the more attached we would have gotten and the harder transition we would have back here." She nodded. "I know that. I guess I'm just being selfish, but if it hadn't been for my family, I would have been happy to stay there. If it hadn't been for your search for Samantha, you would have wanted to stay, too." She felt his mind flinch, recoiling slightly at the mention of Samantha's name, and she communicated an apology. "No, that's all right," Mulder said with a sad smile. "You're right, Dana, a large part of why we came back was because of my work and your family. But it's not like we had a horrible existence here. I think that you're tired and reacting to the effects of the Vortex and the transition back. Give yourself some time. Besides, there's some good things about being back." "Like?" Scully was getting a perverse pleasure out of her depression, and was not about to give up on it easily. "Okay, how about coffee? As wonderful as their tea was, there were times in the Realm I would have killed for a cup of coffee. And sunflower seeds. Of all the plants for the Realm not to have! And tacos and burritos and pepperoni pizza. Uh- oh, probably not a good subject to raise, sitting in a locked room. I know we have bread and jerky, but somehow it's just not quite the same." Scully smiled. "You know what I missed the most? Showers! Tubs are great, and sometimes even fun," she said with a sidelong glance at Mulder. "But I want a nice hot shower so bad..." "Showers can be fun, too," said Mulder, and he looked so hopeful that Scully laughed in spite of herself. They were quiet for a few seconds, just enjoying being in each other's presence. "Thank you," she said. "For what?" "For being you. For loving me." She took hold of his hand as it rested against her shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. "Mmmm. Any time." He sighed and lay his cheek against her hair. "That's going to be something else to get used to." "What?" "You and me. Here." Scully snuggled into his chest. "Maybe that's another reason why I miss the Realm so much - I kind of associate the Realm with you and me being, you know, together and life-bonded. I associate our world with having to hide feelings and being unaware of our life-bond and being so alone." "Never again," he said firmly. Mulder thought for a minute. "We're still life-bonded and we'll always have that, it's undeniable. And because of that, we'll never be alone again, for which I, for one, am incredibly grateful." He hugged her tighter and she returned his embrace. "But about the 'hiding our feelings' part - there's still the Bureau." "I know - Mulder , what are we going to do?" "I don't know, we'll figure it out. I think as long as we're discrete, it will be alright. Maybe business as usual at the office, and we'll figure out something with the living arrangements. "How are we going to explain all this Vortex and gargoyle business to Skinner?" asked Scully. "Now that is definitely something I'm too tired to think about right now. I don't know, let's wait until we've talked to Professor Neumann. We might as well get some rest. Nothing's going to happen until it gets light out, at the earliest, and it doesn't look like that is going to happen any time soon." They closed their eyes, not counting on sleeping, but the effects of the trip through the Vortex and their attempts to use their powers had drained them more than they knew. They slept leaning against the wall in each other's arms for several hours. - - - - - The thud of a closing door nearby awakened them with a start. They had just opened their eyes to the murky dawn light when the overheads came on suddenly, and they involuntarily closed them again. They heard the sound of a key in the door, and forced their eyes open, squinting in the bright light. "My God!" Professor Neumann stood silhouetted in the doorway against the dark of the prep room. "Where did you go to? God, look at you!" He stared at them, disbelief, wonder, and fascination passing in turns over his face. Mulder and Scully rose to their feet, Mulder with some difficulty. "It's a very long story," he said. Suddenly, his attention was focused on the vinyl tile floor. Either they had very poor custodial services, or... "Professor Neumann, how long have we been gone?" Hearing the tension in Mulder's voice, Scully looked up at him, and started to touch his mind. Coffee stains? "It's Wednesday morning - you disappeared Monday evening." Scully stared at him. "That's impossible," she said flatly. Mulder was staring out of the window, then he turned around to face her. "No, he's right. I noticed those stains on the floor where someone had dripped coffee and they're the same, exactly the same. The trees are still in bud, exactly as they were when we left. And more proof - our rental car is still in the same place we parked it, except it appears to have a small collection of parking citations on it now. No, Scully, he's telling the truth. I just can't explain it." Neumann continued to stare at them as they talked, his eyes dilated with amazement. Thirty six hours ago, he had met two professionally dressed and coifed agents, in good physical shape but nothing special, with the pallor of a long winter on their skins. Now - God, now! They both wore leather breeches, soft white shirts and some kind of leather vest or tunic, and were shod in boots. The clothing was certainly a departure, but the Professor had been around Cambridge long enough to see everything in terms of bizarre clothing choices. It was the physical changes which were so striking. The young man's physique was different - leaner, stronger, the shoulders and chest broader. He had a hardness, an edge to him, a presence or sense of self that simply hadn't been there before. The woman, too. Gone was any sense of softness. Her appearance almost screamed that this woman was a force to be reckoned with. She, too, was much leaner and stronger looking, her arms like whipcord. With both of them, there was something in the eyes - knowledge, horror, peace; just a hint of more substance. Both were tanned and windburned, the kind of changes to skin that occur only over long periods of living or working out of doors. Both had long hair, several inches longer than it had been, definitely not FBI issue and a change that could not occur in a day and a half. "Wherever you've been, it's obvious you've been there for more than thirty six hours," he finally said, his voice calmer than he felt. "I'll put on some coffee and we can talk about it." "Could we talk somewhere the recovery team did not have access to yesterday? I don't like to sound paranoid, but I think you have to at least consider the possibility that some bugs may have been left behind." "A very good point, Mr. Mulder. I will have some people I know do a thorough check later today. Meanwhile, we can go into a conference room that has been in constant use for the past two days for a meeting." They walked down the hallway, or hobbled in Mulder's case, to the conference room where they were unlikely to be disturbed, at least not for several hours. A stunned silence was maintained while the professor fired up the Mr. Coffee, and then poured out a cup of the strong brew for each of them. "Why don't you tell us what went on here after we 'left'. You don't have quite as much time to fill in as we do," suggested Mulder. He sipped the coffee as if it were ambrosia. Professor Neumann nodded. "Well, I'm assuming you heard the arrival of the recovery team?" Mulder and Scully inclined their heads. "They kicked in the door and were not pleased when they found nothing. They interrogated myself and my assistant for several hours, including lie detector tests. It perhaps worked to everyone's benefit that we did not have a lot of time to talk and exchange ideas prior to your disappearance. Since I had no idea where you might have gone, passing the polygraph was not a problem." "They really forced you to take a polygraph?" Scully asked, astounded. "Well, no one put an actual gun to my head," replied Neumann. "They just threatened to pull strings and have my grants withdrawn - a fate worse than death, as any research scientist will tell you. In fact the gun may be preferable - only one life is snuffed out, not a huge body of research." Mulder looked a little guiltily at Scully, then at Neumann. "Anything else?" "They searched the place pretty thoroughly yesterday, looking for hidden panels, anything that could explain how you had managed to elude them. They seemed especially diligent when they learned - not from me, by the way - that you, Mr. Mulder, were the agent in charge of the case. They left midafternoon yesterday. Evidently the official line is to be that it was a student prank. They were not amused by the incident." "Did they leave you with the impression that they might be coming back?" The Professor shrugged. "Anything's possible, I suppose, but I honestly didn't get that feeling. I got the idea that they felt they had wasted enough time here and were only too happy to go back to Hanscom. Now, Mr. Mulder, I think you two have a story to tell, do you not?" Mulder nodded. "You might want to use those tape recorders over there, and make an audio record for each of us. For our own private use, right? I'm warning you in advance, a lot of what you are going to hear is going to sound crazy. As far as physical evidence goes, there's our appearances, which show changes that can't have been accomplished in thirty six hours. We have some things here in the sack which we brought with us, but I'm not sure how much they prove. And we have the fact that you saw us go into the locked room with Tarnor, and not come out." "Tarnor?" "Oh, yes, sorry. That was the name of the gargoyle." Mulder looked at Scully - this was going to be very difficult. Scully looked at him sympathetically and shrugged. If Mulder had come to her with this story, she would have been very hard- pressed to believe it, and she knew and respected him. What was this complete stranger - a physicist, no less, used to masses of quantifiable data - going to believe? As if he had read their minds, he said, "I want to assure you - I'm a lot more openminded than you may think. Space/time continuum experiments open up a lot of areas that have only been explored in science fiction. Often, there is a sense of unreality about what we do." Mulder smiled. "The irony is, Dr. Neumann, that it isn't a case of a lack of reality - it's more a case of too many realities. Start your tape recorders." When the machines were running, Mulder quickly gave a summary of how the Bureau had been notified, the history of X-File involved, the telepathic communication with the creature, and their fall through the Vortex. "We were in a reality that had multiple species of intelligent lifeforms - humans, gargoyles, trolls and elves, which lived together in towns but also had separate settlements. Interspecies bigotry was not unknown but neither was it institutionalized or encouraged. All spoke the same language and participated to varying degrees in the same culture, government, and so on. Certain species had particular gifts, talents and other attributes, which we can talk about in more detail later. There was a feudal/agrarian kind of economy and a parliamentary monarchy politically. Technologically, the Realm was at a par of say, Europe in the 13th or 14th century, with some exceptions - anachronisms, I guess you'd say. However, certain of their institutions showed an amazing degree of sophistication; for the most part, these were areas in which paranormal or supernatural forces were harnessed and used. I can speak directly to the use of magic." Mulder then went on to explain about how he was trained as a magician, the language spell that permitted them to communicate,and some of the feats of which he was capable in the Realm, up to and including building the Gate and the Vortex. Professor Neumann's eyes grew wide with fascination and delight. Mulder then handed the microphone to Scully. "I can speak to the use of what would be considered in this reality paranormal forces in the diagnosis and treatment of disease and injury." Scully then went on to describe her training as a Healer, the use of herbal remedies and the use of psychic healing for everything from abrasions to Mulder's poisoning, from broken bones to ruptured organs. She handed the microphone back to Mulder, her chest constricting with something very like homesickness for the Realm that was so far away. "This is all sounding very dry and clinical," Mulder said. "Actually, it was anything but. The people and other beings there were wonderful, with just as many heroes and villains, just as many clowns and tragic figures as we have in our reality. We really became totally integrated into their world in an amazingly short length of time. We left behind a lot of good friends." Mulder felt his throat tightening with emotion as he thought of them. "How long did you perceive you were there?" inquired Neumann. Because of the professor's involvement with time experiments, Mulder gave the question serious consideration and tried to be as accurate as possible in his answer. "It's difficult to tell - they did not appear to have very sophisticated processes in place for measuring time - it was mostly by natural phenomena - moon cycles, seasons, things like that. As far as I am aware there were no clocks, and I never heard dates referred to. It was all rather vague. Our watches stopped when we went through the Vortex , not that they would have accurately measured time in the Realm in any case. To answer your specific question, we were under the impression that we were there 9 to 12 months. I'm sorry I can't be any more specific. We weren't really keeping track." "I can understand why Scully was trained as a healer, because she's a doctor here. Why in the world were you trained as a wizard?" asked Professor Neumann. "Actually, she was a warrior first and a Healer second," Mulder explained. "It has to do with auras. These people believed that some things are destined to be, and it's indicted by an aura of a certain color or quality. The aura might indicate certain talents or in some rare cases, couples who are predestined to be together. My aura is a bright clear blue, considered to be indicative of magical ability. In a way, that's how we ended up in the Realm, because of our auras." Oh god, he's never going to believe this, thought Mulder. "That's right," said Scully. "They had an ancient Prophecy that told of a powerful magician who is bonded to a warrior/Healer who come from far away and save the Realm from an unspeakable evil. My aura, warrior's green and Healer's brown, is unique - it doesn't exist for anyone else. Tarnor acted as a conduit, our auras were noticed and we were - not prevented - from being sucked into the Vortex." Scully paused. "Which brings me to the important thing we must discuss - " "Just a minute. First tell me what you mean by 'bonded'." "That's something personal. In any case it can wait," said Scully. "Well, what about this unspeakable evil?" "That's what we're trying to explain," said Mulder. "The Vortex is not a natural occurrence in the Realm. It has appeared on an irregular basis for a very long time now. At one time they were conducting experiments with it, but none was successful. When Tarnor and Scully and I travelled through, it was the first time anyone had been retrieved successfully from this world back to the Realm. We believe strongly that there is be a correlation between the experiments you perform on an irregular basis and the appearance of the Vortex in the Realm." Professor Neumann nodded. "Based on what I know of the experiments that were performed before my time, and certainly the ones I've been performing, I'd say that is surely a possibililty." Mulder sighed. "If it were merely a case of an intermittant link between our world and the Realm, I would not be quite so concerned. I still wouldn't rest easy, knowing some of the types like the recovery team that could go in there and wreak havoc, but it wouldn't be as horrible a situation as the one that existed." Neumann frowned. "Was there a problem?" Scully took up the story. "The problem was that the Realm and our reality were not the only ones involved. There was at least one other, what the people of the Realm called the Dark Place. It was -" Scully shuddered a little and forced herself to continue - "it was a place populated by hideous nightmare creatures that slaughtered whatever got in their path wherever they went. They used the Vortex to enter the Realm. They killed tens of thousands, between the villages they wiped out, and the men and women killed on the field of battle, trying to drive them out. That was the unspeakable evil the Prophecy talked about. For us, the war ended just a couple of weeks ago. You can't even begin to imagine how horrible it was." "And you think that our experiments created the Vortex, allowing these other creatures to enter the Realm," said the professor thoughtfully. Mulder's face reflected the horrors that he and Scully had experienced. "Well, it's extremely unlikely that these Dark Realm creatures would have any form of culture which would support a science sophisticated enough to have a Vortex that originated with them. These beasts were just killing machines, they didn't even have an organized army, just packs of vicious things running amok. And we have no idea what other realities may have been linked." He paused. "We had no certainty that we would emerge here when we came back, we could have ended up anywhere, including that nightmare place. There may be forces at work here we're not aware of that direct where something exits from the Vortex." "God, it would be fascinating to be able to find out what those forces are, to control them, to have a limited transportation back and forth," Neumann's face was illuminated with the wonder of it all. "Can you imagine how fantastic it would be?" "Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm," Mulder said drily. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to go back to the Realm someday; we nearly chose to stay there. But not if there is any risk of again exposing the innocents of that place and time to the nightmare we were forced to deal with. And there's another reason. We couldn't be sure that those creatures weren't coming through to our world. As far as I know, nothing but dumb luck prevented it. In brief, Professor, if we're going to open doors, we'd better know what's behind them." "What are you going to do?" Neumann asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Mulder bent over and rested his arms on this knees. He shook his head and stared at the ground, then looked up at the physicist. "I don't know, I honestly don't. How likely do you think it is that anyone will believe our story?" The professor smiled and shook his head. "Exactly. No one is going to believe it. If we were believed, that might be worse. The next thing you know the NSA or some organization like it would be in charge of the project, and those 'Gestapo types' you mentioned, Professor Neumann, will be trying to take over the Realm. I would personally blow up this lab and take the consequences to prevent that from happening, or to prevent another catastrophe like the one we saw with the Dark forces." Mulder looked Neumann directly in the eyes. "The Realm is a living, breathing culture, as rich or richer than our own in many ways. We have a lot to learn from them. For one thing, there was quite a bit about their practice of medicine that was more effective and much more humane than our own. But while I would hate to see the door to the Realm shut forever, it would be preferable to contamination from another reality." "Is there any way that the experiments could be controlled to eliminate the risk of opening up another Dark Realm?" asked Scully. "Possibly," said Neumann. "You see, we were just working on theory before, merely hypothesizing that other realities existed. By your evidence, we now know that they do exist. Knowing that, I think some safeguards can be built in that...just give me a minute here." He grabbed a pencil and pad of paper from the conference table and rapidly began scrawling some complex mathematical formulae. He worked intently for at least fifteen minutes. Finally Scully said, "Professor?" "Oh, sorry, I forgot that you were here," he said with an apologetic smile. "All right. Yes, theoretically, it is possible to build in a 'directional factor'. I can't explain the physics of it to you, and there's a lot of data correlation I would have to do to be certain, but I believe that it is possible." "You're saying that you think there's a way to continue the experiments that would guarantee that other 'doors' would stay closed, and you could open the door to the specific reality you wanted to explore," Mulder said. Neumann nodded. "Theoretically, yes." "Professor, how many people are involved in your experiments?" "Myself and my assistant, Dr. Karen Mather, are the only ones with complete knowledge. I bring others in as I need them to run certain equipment, record results, that kind of thing. They're usually grad students, looking for either money or academic credits. Actually, it's possible for me to perform most of the experiments with just my assistant." "Could you please excuse us, professor? Just for a minute?" Mulder asked. "Certainly. I 'll arrange for that electronic surveillance sweep. I'll call from my office." ----------------- They watched him leave. "Mulder, what do you-", Scully began. //No, Scully, like this// Mulder's thoughts came through to her mind clearly. //What do you think?// //I think he means what he says, Mulder. I think he'll try to eliminate the risk of opening another door like the one to the Dark Realm. But just because he has good intentions doesn't mean it's possible.// //I know. The safety of the Realm has to be the number one priority, that goes without saying. But I hate the idea of that door closing forever. And there's the practical aspect. I think it is very unlikely that we could convince Professor Neumann to just drop his life's work, and that of Dr. Mather. Short of blowing up the building with everyone in it, I think the best we may be able to hope for is to convince him of the need to protect the Realm from contamination by other realities, our own included. Limited exchange is one thing, contamination is something else. Do you think we can trust him to take the same care we would?// //Well, I certainly think he's not likely to bring in the NSA or any other government organization, which is to his credit. As to the safeguards to prevent undesired 'leaks' between realities, I think he'll do his best. His fascination and curiosity could get the better of him, though. He might decide to go ahead with an experiment even if the safety factors are not all that they should be. He reminds me of you a little, Mulder - I think he sometimes lets his fascination come before good sense. Don't you think he might tend to let his enthusiasm run away with him?// Professor Neumann knocked and entered the conference room to find Mulder and Scully silent and looking at each other intently. He carried Scully's purse, left behind when they tumbled into the Vortex. //I don't think so, Scully. First, I might risk my own skin, but I wouldn't risk anyone else's, and I think he's the same. I don't know why, but I trust this guy. I'd like to know a little more about his assistant, though.// Mulder smiled. //This way of talking is going to come in real handy, Scully.// Scully smiled back. //Yes, well, right now Neumann is looking at us like we just arrived from Mars, so you'd better say something.// "Sorry, Professor, just thinking," Mulder said. "What can you tell us about your assistant, Dr. Mather?" "She's in her early fifties, has been here since she was an undergraduate. She's been like a daughter to me and I'd trust her with my life. She, too, has had her share of grief from government sources. I had mine in Germany as a young man under the Nazis; she had hers when her father was hauled up before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the fifties. She continued in the family tradition by being arrested frequently during anti-war protests here in Cambridge in the sixties and early seventies. She has an almost pathological reaction to government control. In other words, Mr. Mulder, I think you'd like her. You will forgive me, the chief of the recovery team yesterday went on in some detail about you." Professor Neumann grinned. Mulder grinned back. "All very complimentary, I'm sure." He looked at Scully, felt her mind. "All right, Professor, we don't really have much choice other than to trust you. Just remember - the people of the Realm are like family to us. We will not take it kindly if they get hurt." The necessary warning given, he crossed to where the sack lay on the table. "If it helps you to make them more real, look at these." He pulled the tapestry and swords and some of the other gifts from the bag. Scully joined the men at the table, and Mulder and she explained the gifts, their use, their significance, to a fascinated Neumann. At times in their story, one or the other would be overcome by the memories and have to stop to regain control, while the other went on. Eyes shining with wonder and emotion, Professor Neumann looked at them when they had finished, and spoke with sincerity. "I give you my word, the Realm will not be placed in any further jeopardy by my experiments. I am only sorry for the damage caused by our ignorance. Rest easy, Mr. Mulder, it will not happen again. Dr. Mather will agree." He offered his hand, which Mulder and then Scully solemnly shook. - - - - - The rest of the day went by in a surrealistic blur. They collected the rental car and drove back to the hotel. It had taken Scully a moment to remember how to operate the car, and driving, like everything else - sounds, sights, smells - seemed both strange and familiar. When they got to the hotel, they changed into sweaters and jeans, rediscovering the most mundane things with a momentary flash of surprise - zippers, running water, flush toilets. Then, Scully finished packed their belongings while Mulder put in a call to Skinner at the Bureau. He gave a quick summary of the status of the case, hoping Skinner would not ask too many questions until he had had a chance to think up more plausible answers. "I'd like you and Agent Scully to report to me in person on this matter, Agent Mulder," said Skinner in his typically closed manner. "I'll be in meetings for the rest of today and a good part of tomorrow. Be in my office with Agent Scully on Friday morning at 9 a.m. sharp." "Yes, sir. By the way, I injured my knee. I'm just going to have it checked out up here before returning." He heard Skinner's sigh of impatience. "Agent Mulder, do you have a death wish? Is there some reason that you are unable to complete a case without ending up in a hospital?" "Just bad luck, sir." "Alright, just follow Bureau protocol. You should be familiar enough with it." "Yes, sir." Mulder hung up with a sigh of relief. At least now they had some time to think. Checking out of the hotel was next, and doing so as though they had only been there for a couple of days added to their disorientation. But they made it to Mass. General and then on to the airport without mishap. Mulder was not happy about squeezing onto a plane with his damaged leg, but luckily their flight was relatively empty. A flight attendant, taking pity on Mulder with his knee now encased in a Velcro splint and being impressed by the FBI ID, showed them to some empty seats in the nearly deserted first class section where he would be able to stretch his leg out more comfortably. Scully shot him a dirty look when he gave more than passing thought to using the device every time they flew. The entire flight and the drive back to Mulder's apartment was the same bizarre mixture of familiarity and strangeness. On one level, flying in a jet and driving a car were things that were accepted, that they did every day. But in a way, their minds were still very much in the Realm. Every stimulus brought a sort of double-take of response - the first response from the mindset of the Realm, one of wonder and surprise and newness; and the second one, almost of tedium, accompanied by a depressing suspicion that their whole stay in the Realm had been a figment of their imaginations. On their arrival in Washington, Mulder's eidetic memory was, not for the first time, invaluable. After the passage of nearly a year in Realm-time, Scully had no idea where they had left the car in the multilevel parking garage. After finally locating the car, they found themselves facing the massive culture shock that was Washington traffic during rush hour, resulting in a long and frustrating drive to Mulder's apartment. After Scully drew up to the curb outside his building, they sat motionless for some time, then looked at each other and smiled, both a little uncomfortable. "I know it's stupid to feel like this," Scully said. "I guess this is kind of what I meant when I said that I don't associate the places in this reality with our being together." "You can go back to your place if you want, Dana. If you don't feel ready for this here." Mulder's eyes were calm but he had pulled down a light shield, so Scully knew he was not quite as equable as he appeared. "No! No, I'm just being silly," she said firmly, as if trying to convince herself. "Anyway, I'd have to drive your car home and I don't think it would be a good idea to have your car parked outside my apartment all night." "It's been there before, when we've been working on a case, and your's has been over here all night. Let's not get morbidly sensitive about all this." Mulder smiled. "Discretion is one thing, paranoia is something else. Besides, I'm the one that's supposed to be paranoid enough for the both of us." They got out of the car, Scully carrying the sack and bundles, Mulder leaning heavily on his crutches as they slowly made their way up the walk and then up the steps to Mulder's building. "Better use your keys, Scully. Mine were in my jacket pocket and I think they fell out when I was fighting with a soul- eater." They looked at each other, trying to make sense of the concept of battling one of those hideous creatures, while standing in the middle of Washington D.C. "This is going to take some getting used to," admitted Mulder. Scully used her key to open the outer door, and when they got upstairs, the door to Mulder's apartment. Once inside she put the bundles down on the floor out of the way. He hung his jacket on the coat rack, then took hers and did the same. Then he hobbled into the living room, fed his fish and tapped on his computer to check his e-mail. "Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully stared at him. "I - I'm sorry, Scully. What? I'd carry you over the threshold, but in my weakened condition -" "I don't mean that. How can you do that? How can you just go around doing what you normally do when you get home?" The tone of her voice was strained, the pitch high. He crossed to her, caressed her cheek with his hand, and motioned her over to the couch. His expression was a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Sit down, Dana. Tell me what's bothering you." "After all that's happened, how can you act so...normal? Things happened to us that have never happened to anyone else! Ever! There's a whole other world out there, and twenty four hours ago, we were in it! How can you just come in and feed your fish?" She felt the sense of disorientation, of strangeness, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. He shrugged helplessly, it was hard for him to explain. Now that he was back in his apartment, he just found himself doing the things he was accustomed to doing in these surroundings. "I always feed them on Wednesdays. What would you like me to do, Scully?" "I don't know. Something - I don't know." She was trembling now, a single tear dripping down her right cheek. "It's all right, love," He smiled tenderly, reaching out to wipe away the tear, then gathered her close. "It's a lot of changes to absorb all at once. I can understand how you feel." He held and rocked her, letting his understanding flow through their life- bond until he felt her start to relax a few minutes later. "Better now?" he asked gently. She nodded. "Sorry." "You don't have to apologize." He assured her lovingly. "Mulder, if you trot out that nauseating line from "Love Story" about love meaning never having to say you're sorry, so help me, I'll sprain your good knee," Scully said grumpily, then sighed. "I am sorry, though. I don't usually become a basket case. Why are you dealing with it so well?" Mulder laughed. "Is that an implied insult, Scully? Like, why isn't Spooky being spooky? I've been wondering about that myself. I don't know. Maybe it's because the abnormal seems more normal and less threatening to me than it does to you. I'm used to living with the idea that there are strange things out there." "There's strange, and then there's what we've been through, which is way, way beyond strange," she reminded him. "Yeah, I know," he responded. "Beats me. It's not often I get yelled at for being normal. Maybe it's something in the bond that won't let us both be crazy at the same time." He smiled at her and gently smoothed her hair. "Are you staying?' he asked quietly. "Yeah, I'm staying." "It's up to you. Only if you want to, if you feel ready." //I love you.// //I know, I love you, too, but you don't have to stay to prove it.// Scully looked into his eyes as she brought her lips to his. She kissed him tentatively at first, as if he were new to her instead of the man who had been her lover for months. Her hands lightly traced his face, his hair, his neck. Mulder sat very still, his arms around her. Gradually her lips became hungrier, demanding and receiving more of a response. His hands twined in her hair, his mouth covering hers until he wrenched it away to nibble on her neck. Scully's hands were in constant motion, now flying to his sweater and under to trace his ribs, to feel the skin of his chest. "I wish I could sweep you off your feet and carry you into my bedroom," he murmured. "But in my weakened condition..." His eyes twinkled. Scully's hands never stopped their exploration. She smiled. "Apparently not all that weakened..." - - - - - "Mom?" Dana tried hard not to let her voice shake. "Dana, hi! You don't generally call on a Thursday, especially not at this time of the morning. Is everything all right? You're not sick, are you?" Mrs. Scully's voice deepened with concern. "No, Mom, everything's fine. What's new?" Scully's hands trembled as she listened to her mother babble on about Melissa's new boyfriend and the latest adventures of her brother's kids and all the other things that she usually only half-listened to while entering a report into her PC. Today, Scully listened to her mother's rich voice, picturing her in the cozy kitchen of her house. "Look, Mom. What are your plans for this weekend? I was wondering if Mulder and I could come up for the weekend, if there's nothing going on at work and you're not busy." "Of course, dear, you know you're both always welcome." Her mother's voice took on a cagy tone. "One or two?" Dana chuckled. Her mother's usual question. "One, Mom." Not her usual response. "Oh! Oh, okay, I'll see you late Friday night, then, all right? Bye, Dana, I love you." Dana could almost see her mother's smile through the phone. "Love you too, Mom. Bye." Scully laughed out loud. She had to hand it to her mother. She had really tried to play it cool, but there was just no hiding the delight in her voice. She wandered back out to join Mulder in the kitchen. "How's your mom?" he inquired. "Fine. I think I scared her, calling on a weekday morning." "Is it okay for this weekend?" Mulder looked up from buttering toast to meet her eyes. "Yeah, fine," she replied, sitting down at the table. "Does she know...uh, is it going to present a problem that..." He couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice or his mind. "She's thrilled!" Dana grinned. "You have no idea how long she's been making my life miserable. Every time we'd visit, she would always call ahead of time and ask me if she should prepare one room or two, becoming increasingly disappointed every time I said 'Two.' I think I just made her day." Mulder smiled with open relief. "Good, I'm glad she approves. Your mom means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want her to think I was corrupting her baby girl. So what are our plans now?" A slow smile spread over Scully's face. "It occurs to me that I still haven't had that long-overdue shower," she said provocatively. Mulder dropped the toast he had been munching on, and reached for his crutches. "Who's corrupting whom?" - - - - - After a long, and very pleasant interlude in the shower, they got dressed and drove over to Scully's apartment. She was grateful Mulder was with her when she went inside, for stepping back into the apartment which looked exactly as she had left it brought another rush of tears to her eyes. The same pile of dirty clothes was sitting in the same basket by the bathroom door, the same pile of bills sat on the living room table, right next to the novel she'd been reading. She felt simultaneously like she'd been gone forever and hadn't been gone at all. Mulder caught the edges of her emotions and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, taking a deep breath. Mulder knew she wasn't feeling 'fine' but he also knew this was something he was going to have to let her deal with it her own way. "Why don't you go ahead and unpack," he suggested, "while I borrow your phone." "Who are you calling?" she questioned, picking up her suitcase and walking towards her bedroom. "The nearest beauty salon." At her arched eyebrow, he smiled and fingered his hair. "Want to try to explain THIS to Skinner?" he asked. - - - - - "Why do I always feel like I'm Daniel, stepping into the lion's den?" asked Mulder softly, his hand on the doorknob to Skinner's office. "You ready?" Dana nodded and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." He opened the door and let her precede him, encumbered as he was by the crutches. They took their accustomed seats in front of the desk. Skinner looked at them - and looked again. "Have you two taken some vacation time lately? You look different, like you've been working out in the outdoors and gotten a tan. Did you ski while you were up in New England or something? Is that how Mulder hurt his knee?" Skinner's eyes narrowed, trying to pin down exactly what it was about them that appeared so damn different. They were dressed as usual, Scully in a neat red suit, Mulder in a well-tailored blue suit, disgraced by one of his horrendous ties. Scully's bright hair was bound professionally in a neat knot, Mulder's was sheared to bureau-standard length; and their expressions were calm. Other than the apparent suntanning of their skin, there was nothing he could put his finger on, and yet he knew instinctively, that SOMETHING was different about them. "No, sir," Scully said blandly, eyes guileless, just as she had practiced. "The only day we took off was yesterday, and we called in per protocol." "I only ask because Colonel Frost, the head of the Recovery Team from Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, Massachusetts, spent a day and a half up at that lab at MIT and never once saw you." Skinner's gaze was piercing. "We were pursuing various lines of inquiry, sir. We did speak extensively with Professor Neumann," responded Mulder. "Yes, I know, he mentioned it." "Have you been checking up on us, sir?" demanded Scully, nettled. Skinner gave them a long look. "I had a question about something on Tuesday. I was trying to get ahold of Mulder to get an answer, and couldn't. In view of the fact that Mulder has a habit of disappearing from time to time on projects that have little to do with his assignments, I think I was justified in being concerned, Agent Scully." "It's all in the report, sir," Mulder said, passing him the file. "I believe we spent much of Tuesday at the Chi Phi fraternity house, tracking down the group of pranksters that perpetrated this little stunt." The report was a masterpiece of distraction and subterfuge and half-truths that had taken them hours to put together the previous afternoon. Skinner skimmed through the report, then closed it and gave them a fishy stare. "So it's your opinion that this whole thing was a student prank then?" "Not opinion, sir," stated Scully. "It's borne out by the facts as we have presented them in the report." "So I see," said Skinner, sounding rather dubious. "Is there anything else, sir? Anything new come up while we were away?" asked Mulder. Skinner looked at him, still at a loss to explain the change in the agent's appearance. Perhaps it was the way he held himself - but was he more relaxed, or more tensed, or even more confident? Unable to identify the difference, Skinner forced himself to concentrate on the discussion. "No, Agent Mulder. I sent back a couple of reports to your office that need some more exposition. Other than that, I don't have anything for you right now." He paused, appearing that he wanted to say something, or ask something. Instead, he said, "All right, you may go" and pressed his lips together in a disapproving line. They were almost out of the room when he said "Agent Scully?" The two of them froze, and slowly turned around. "Agent Scully, have you lost some weight or something?" Skinner looked so puzzled that she was hard-pressed not to laugh. "Yes, sir, a few pounds. Thanks for noticing!" They turned and fled before Skinner could think of any more questions. Leaning back in his chair, the Assistant Director stared at the closed door for a few long moments. He had little doubt that he had just been lied to, but their story matched the official reports from the military recovery team. Nonetheless, he knew those two agents well enough to know that something had happened - something they obviously weren't willing to talk about. That fact, in and of itself, was enough to make him worried. It was far more Mulder's style to shout the 'truth' from the rooftops, the more bizarre the better. If MULDER unwilling to report it...Skinner sighed and, removing his glasses, rubbed his eyes...then he was quite certain he was better off not knowing. Not that he wouldn't keep a close eye on those two agents. But then again, he always did. - - - - - Entering their basement office, Scully tossed her coat and briefcase onto her chair and turned to face Mulder as he plopped himself down in his chair, leaning back to place his feet on the corner of the desk. "Do you think Skinner believed us?" she asked, pushing his feet aside to give herself space to perch on the edge of the desk. "No." Mulder said bluntly. "But he HAS to accept our report. It matches the official story, and there's hardly anything objectionable in it." They both grinned with amusement, it had been - deliberately - the most 'ordinary' field report they had ever written. "I wonder what he would have said if we'd tried to tell him the truth?" Mulder spoke pensively. For all the pleasure he usually got out of being outrageous, this time he felt the need to keep their unusual experiences private, if only to protect their life-bond - and the friends they had left behind. "He'd probably have had us both thrown into a rubber room," Scully replied with characteristic practicality. "Yeah," Mulder agreed. "In straight jackets." They shared a moment of silent laughter, then sat quietly. Mulder let his eyes wander around the room, feeling much like he was slipping into an old, but very comfortable pair of shoes. Much more than his apartment, this room really felt like home. A smile flirted with the edges of his mouth as he glanced up at his favorite poster, the one of a flying saucer with the big bold slogan, "I want to believe." "What is it?" Scully asked aloud, even as her mind reached out instinctively to brush the edge of his. "I'll miss our friends," he said, his smile widening into an engaging grin. "But it really is good to be home." ----------------- Epilogue Two months later The late spring heat wave and the boats on the Charles were just two of the changes they noticed in their drive from the airport to the MIT campus. But the stark, utilitarian complex where Neumann's lab was located looked no different than when they had last seen it two months earlier. Mulder took the steps two at a time, waiting impatiently for Scully to catch up. //I'm coming. You really don't have to run, you know.// //I know, I'm just anxious to find out what's going on.// They found the prep room door without difficulty, and Dr. Mather answered their knock immediately. No need for ID's this time, they solemnly exchanged handshakes and went into the lab, closing the door behind them. "When was the last time you saw him?" asked Scully sympathetically. Dr. Mather smiled. "The day before he left. He preferred to have no one here when he went so he programmed the equipment in advance." Mulder and Scully exchanged long looks, and then he turned to Dr. Mather. "The FBI was notified by the authorities at here at MIT that Professor Neumann had disappeared, and that it was possible that foul play was involved. Are you saying that that isn't the case?" "That's exactly what I am saying, Mr. Mulder. When was the last time you heard from him?" Mulder thought. Ever since he and Scully had returned from the Realm, they had communicated regularly with Professor Neumann. He frequently asked questions about the people and places of the Realm, and they would regale him with stories of their experiences, or painstakingly explain various facets of the culture. They had even provided him with crude maps, and diagrams of the castle and the layout of their room. The Professor was always eager and grateful for the information, and it was very cathartic for Mulder and Scully to be able to talk about the place they still missed so much with someone who was interested, understanding, and who didn't think they were crazy. "We exchanged e-mail about a week ago, and we spoke on the phone three or four days ago. Why?" "He went through to the Realm, didn't he, Dr. Mather?" Scully said it quietly but with a sureness that Mulder had never known to be misplaced. She nodded. "About a month ago he found the 'directional factor' he had been looking for. Well, he can probably tell you better than I." She handed Mulder an envelope and went out to the prep room, closing the door behind her. Mulder turned the letter over in his hand. It was addressed to him and Scully in Neumann's tight scrawl. Exchanging concerned glances with her, he tore open the seal, pulled out the letter and began to read: Dear Mr. Mulder and Dr. Scully, "I've left instructions with Karen to give you this after I've left. I'm sorry I couldn't share my plan with you. I don't think I finally decided to do it until a couple of days ago, and then I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it. The directional factor is a reality - on paper. There's no way to test it without sending a human through the Vortex. Ever since I first saw Tarnor, I've been obsessed by the prospect of visiting the place where such a creature could come from. I can't describe how envious I was of you both when you returned from your adventures in the Realm. And in a few moments, I shall begin my own adventure. I have kept my word. All possible safeguards have been built into the system. An aside that you may find interesting, even comforting - some of my experiments have shown time to be fluid (actually, 'gel' might be a more accurate expression). Based on this, I believe that the time factor you experienced, of thirty six realworld hours to approximately one Realm year, almost surely is not a constant. Thus, in spite of the passage of time since your return, it is my belief that I will find your friends much as you left them. I wish there had been another way to do this without attracting the suspicions of some of the groups we would just as soon avoid. When you receive this, Karen will begin to construct a very elaborate paper trail which should allay the fears for my wellbeing and any questions as to my whereabouts for several weeks to come. She has also been instructed to provide you with whatever documentation you need for your reports. I'm bringing some gifts from our world, carefully chosen to avoid contaminating their culture. When I return, we shall get together and I'll bring you news of your friends. I shall give your love to Jourdain and Aldara, to Reinald and Andalor, and of course to Tarnor and Corvay, and tell them how much you miss them. Wish me luck. Gunther Neumann The End ----------------------------------------------------------------------- THE PROPHECY: Long past the years of Poor Harvest When peace has returned to the Realm And the People no longer cry out in Sorrow and Unrest There will be a time of Great Plenty and Calm. Cherish the Grace of the Land, For when the moons have turned ten score and ten, The End will be near to hand; And Darkness awaits for the children. Upon the Land a Dark Shadow will feast Upon the hearts of men a sickness will lie. Mothers will scream in the mouth of a beast. And their children will sicken and die. And the fruit will rot on the branch, And the fields will run red with blood. And the grain will wither upon the stalk. And the waters will rise in a flood. No man shall hold Kingship alone or in part. Divided the Council shall stand. Treachery will turn within a noble heart. And sudden storms will sweep the land Deep within the Great Woods the Beasts will roam. No longer shall innocents call this their home. Yet, even as the Dark takes hold upon the Realm Deep, deep within the great woods, >From that same source the evil floods, The Travellers will come. Travellers who seek the truth. Travellers whose hearts are pure. Travellers whose strength will bind the right. And bring salvation to the light. Mage to mage, the power draws. Blue to Blue, together fight. Brown and Green, the Healer's art is found within a soldier's heart. Mage of Realm and Mage Beyond Join your powers in the night. Woman, born to be a Mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight. Night will fall before it's done Shadow grow and death be strong Only when the two are one. Will the Dark be gone. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: "The Runaway - Magician Book II" Prologue Date: 14 Oct 1995 18:40:12 GMT THE RUNAWAY The Magician - Book Two An X-Files Fantasy by Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, A.D. Skinner, and Agt. Henderson belong to Chris Carter, FOX Network, and Ten Thirteen Productions. The Realm and all of the other characters are solely our own invention, as is the rest of this story. Author's Note: This story is a sequel to our previous story, "The Magician," and constitutes Book Two of a *planned* trilogy. We owe a huge to Debbie Hewett for editing everything for us. Without her help this story would be full of mistakes!!!! And to all our friends who listened to our complaints as we sturggled to finish this story. One final note: these stories are something of a departure from standard X-Files fan-fiction, at their heart, they are true fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. This story does take place mostly in our world, but it is framed by a much larger reality. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Prologue His face was closed and sullen. "No! I don't WANT to!" "Andalor, act your age," Reinald said impatiently. "You are the Prince, soon to be the King. You have certain duties, responsibilities to the Realm. You know that, you've known it all your life. Why are you acting this way?" The Mage regarded the boy with a mixture of concern, exasperation and affection. The Prince had grown from a little child into a handsome young man, seemingly overnight. His hair was still light, but his violet eyes had darkened to a startling purple. His face had lost the roundness of childhood and was developing the lean planes of an adult. After being small for his age his whole life, he had suddenly sprouted up in the last year and was now the same height as the Mage. A full fifteen summers in age, he was nearing the time of his coronation and Reinald had been working him hard. There was so much he needed to know - how to conduct the numerous rituals of the Realm, the ancient languages, the complicated etiquette and protocols, the history and the politics of the noble houses - the list went on and on. Reinald knew he had been driving the boy relentlessly, but felt the pressure of time upon them. Recently, Andalor had become increasingly mulish and uncooperative, questioning the need for his lessons, questioning even his desire to become King. Reinald sometimes felt like he was trying to reason with a stranger rather than the child he had loved for so many years. "I'm tired of the responsibility and the duty! I've lived with them all my life, and I've had enough! I want to be normal, I want - oh, you wouldn't understand!" The boy threw himself into the armchair by the hearth and stared into the fire. A little past sunset now, the chamber was growing dark, and the reflection of the flames flickered on the walls and on the faces of the man and boy. Reinald sighed and sat in the other chair. "I want to understand, Andalor. What is it you want?" Andalor looked at Reinald and saw that the Mage was serious. His face became a little more animated. "Well, the Professor was telling me of his world, and it's just as Mage Mulder said. I didn't know whether to believe Mulder, it all sounded so fantastic, but the Professor is telling me the same things." "What sort of things?" asked Reinald, suspiciously. Andalor lit up with excitement and wonder. He rose, and paced around the room as he talked. "In Mulder and the Professor's world, boys my age listen to small boxes that have music in them. And they learn to drive carts that don't need horses - can you imagine? And there are great metal..." words failed him and he gestured wildly with his arms ..."things... that fly through the air with people inside them, faster than anything can ever move in our world! And the young have all sorts of time to themselves to do as they like." Andalor came to a stop and looked Reinald directly in the eyes. "What do I want? I want to see those metal things flying through the air. I want to have time to do as I want. I want to see the world that Mulder and the Professor came from." "Andalor, I wish that were possible, but it's not. Did you know that their world has no magic? No healers? No beings such as trolls or gargoyles or elves? And that if they did have such beings, they would probably hunt them down?" Reinald shook his head. "Their world is theirs, and this is yours. Besides, it isn't possible to travel to their world." The boy's expression changed in a heartbeat from one of longing and excitement, to one of stubborn defiance. "It IS possible, I KNOW it is! Mulder and Scully went through the Vortex twice, and so did Tarnor. Even the Professor went through it, and he's old. If they can do it, why can't I?" Andalor glared at Reinald accusingly and his voice became louder, harsher. "I might as well be a prisoner here. Even Uncle Drellor has more freedom than I do." "It's too dangerous, Andalor," Reinald said with finality. "Those trips through the Vortex could have cost them their lives. I won't let you risk your life on a childish whim. Your place is here, and your responsibility is readying yourself to be a good King. Now - the head of the House of Dordinal after the Herastus the Infirm was...?" "NO MORE! I don't WANT to be King! I want to be left alone!" The furious boy ran from the chamber, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him with a crash that reverberated down the stone hallways. Reinald closed his eyes, slumped in his chair and sighed deeply. Why was this happening? What had happened to the sweet, cooperative, compliant child he had always known? He rose stiffly and began to put away the books and the parchment. Maybe he had been working the boy too hard. Maybe Andalor just needed a little time to reconsider. He'll come to his senses - he has to, he has no choice. Andalor had run directly for the stables and had leapt upon the first horse he came to, not even waiting for the stableboys to saddle it. He galloped across the fields in the twilight until the heat of his anger abated, then rode at a slower pace to the secluded pool and waterfall that had remained his favorite place for solitude since childhood. He dismounted and let his horse graze nearby. Scrambling down the embankment, the boy made his way to the end of a rocky promontory and sat down. For a while he aimlessly skipped flat pebbles across the surface of the pool, sending ripples across the reflections of the two moons of his world. Tiring of that, he climbed over the rocks and up the embankment again to the tall trees which encircled the pool. He stretched out under one which was quite close to the falls and thought about the fantastic world he would probably never see. His primary recreation, ever since the Professor had arrived in the Realm, had been listening to the old scientist's tales. Andalor still remembered Mulder and Scully, the amazing people who had appeared long ago in the Realm's darkest hour. Although his eidetic memory would never let him forget them, his recollections of them were touched by the understanding and the impressions of a small boy. He remembered them as strong and courageous and kind. He remembered the uniqueness of their powerful auras. The woman had been beautiful and very nice to him, but he had been particularly close to Mulder, the only person he ever knew who was like him, who remembered everything. In spite of the hours of training and preparation for the upcoming battle with the creatures of the Dark Realm, Mulder always seemed to have time for the boy. And not to teach him some new facet of politics or ritual, but rather to talk with him about his strange world, how to deal with the gift that they shared - conversations about things that mattered to Andalor a whole lot more than the politics of the ridiculous noble houses. Andalor frowned and shifted his position. He had taken Mulder's departure very hard. After the couple left, there followed a lonely time for the boy. Most of the adults were busy with rebuilding the areas devastated by the Dark Realm invasion. When Reinald did have time for him, it was to teach him more about Kingship. Andalor had almost despaired of ever having fun and excitement in his life again, when suddenly, the Professor had appeared. A breathless messenger from the troll village of Heshgar bustled into Fairwoods Keep one day. He gasped out the news that a bedraggled human stranger had stumbled into his village, speaking a tongue no one could understand. The guards, on hearing the troll's story, sent for Reinald. The next morning, Reinald and Andalor travelled to Heshgar to investigate this strange appearance, reminding them as it did of another such appearance not so long before. When they arrived at the village, they had no trouble spotting the tall gaunt man instantly in the crowd of short, stocky trolls. On a hunch, Reinald addressed him haltingly in the outlandish language he had picked up from Mulder, introducing himself and the boy. The man had smiled broadly. To Reinald's and Andalor's delight, the man not only responded in that tongue, but also gave them greetings from their friends Mulder and Scully. Professor Neumann had now been in their world a very long time, much longer than Scully and Mulder had stayed. Andalor looked forward to the few minutes out of every day that he would steal from lessons or affairs of state to sit at the Professor's side to hear his stories. When the Professor had first come to live at the castle, much of their time together was spent in language lessons - Andalor to perfect the English that Mulder had taught him, and the Professor to learn the sing-song language of the Realm. Time not spent in language study was devoted to trying to satisfy Neumann's apparently inexhaustible curiosity about the magical world he now inhabited. Lately however, it had been the boy who had the burning desire to know all there was about the Professor's world. Andalor sat up and leaned forward, clasping his knees. The Realm, a source of infinite wonder to the Professor, was for him a dull place of duty and drudgery. But Mulder's world! He would give anything to see it, if only for a short time. He was sick to death of hearing about his duty to the Realm. He had been hearing about it all his life. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he couldn't forget it, even if Reinald didn't constantly and unnecessarily remind him. Andalor scowled and sighed. And then, an idea came to him and he stiffened. Maybe there WAS a way - if he had the courage. One day he had accidentally come upon the Professor and Reinald in a seldomly frequented part of the castle near the battlements. Maybe it was just the fact that the pair obviously wanted to keep their activities a secret, but something made Andalor stop before entering the room. Peeking through the space between the door and the jamb, he saw strange metal boxes and tubes and large jars of bubbling liquid with wires sticking out of them. A large table over which the two men were bent was covered with parchments filled from top to bottom with strange writing and small drawings. Cauldrons hung over the fire in the hearth, emitting a smell that was even worse than Corvay's potions. Although learning nothing that day, the boy made a point of checking the activities in the r oom several times a week. For a long time he was puzzled about what the two were trying to accomplish, since none of their experiments appeared to result in anything. Then one day, the scientist and Mage were plainly tense and nervous about what they were about to do. Looking on in wonder, Andalor saw a small statue of a bird get drawn through - something - and disappear. A vortex, that's what it had been! He had never seen the Vortex, he was not allowed that close to the battle site when he had been younger, but he remembered Reinald's and Mulder's planning to create such an entity. But this was a smaller, controllable vortex, not the huge maelstrom that had doomed the Realm's monstrous enemies. Andalor tracked their experiments carefully, noting the increasing success that the pair were having, in sending, and then finally retrieving, inanimate objects through the small vortexes that they created in their workroom. Soon, they would be ready for larger objects, living beings. When that time came, Andalor would be ready. End Prologue =========================================================================== Chapter One Part A The alley was dark and cold, smelling of stale urine and rancid garbage. His hand clamped tightly around the gun, Special Agent Fox Mulder slid along the dingy brick wall, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. A gust of wind twisted the bottom of his raincoat around his legs and played with the fringe of dark bangs covering his forehead. He halted, bringing the muzzle of the gun to bear at a sudden metallic clatter a few feet away. "MEEEOOOWWW!" The loud screech of a cat sounded to his left, causing Mulder to lower his gun and draw in a sharp breath of relief. His nose crinkled in disgust as he regretted the depth of that swallow of the pungent air, a frown thinning his usually generous mouth. Step by careful step, he moved down the alley, lifting his feet like a dancer, trying to avoid both unnecessary noise and the worst of the trash lining the alley floor. Finally, he pulled up short in front of a small, wooden door wedged into the brick of the building, covered with peeling yellow paint and the remnants of a business sign. Only the letters "Ab.....R...M...R ..s" were visible, and those only partially. Pivoting to face the doorway, he shot quick glances to his right and to his left, assuring himself he was alone. One more glance upwards at the barred, broken windows, and then he was ready. //Scully?\\ His brow crinkled in concentration as he spoke in barely a whisper. //Mulder.\\ The reply was as loud in his head as his own thoughts, clear and vivid, carrying with it the scent of her perfume and the flash of the sea-tinged blue of her eyes. Seizing hold of the mental contact, he sent his response in rapid-fire images. //In position here, are you ready?\\ //Yes,\\ The answer came back, tense and certain. He nodded at thin air, then backed up slowly across the alley, keeping his eyes pinned onto the door facing him. //On the count of three....One...\\ Their mental voices twined on the count. //Two....Three!\\ Mulder broke into sudden movement, racing towards the door, coat flapping, hands at his side. Step, step, step...leap and kick. His left foot slammed into the door with a thud, connecting with the aged wood a couple inches above the door handle. It creaked, swayed, then gave way, falling inward into pitch black darkness. Mulder rocked forward onto that left foot, using his right to propel himself forward. //I'm in.\\ He sent tersely, receiving only an image of dark hallway from his partner's occupied mind. Then, bracing himself, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket and aimed the thin beam of light ahead of him with one hand, the gun held firmly by the other. Shadows twisted along the edges of the pencil-sized beam of light, resolving into the recognizable shapes of rusted metal counters and blackened sinks, abandoned refrigerators and ovens, some still wavering upright, others laying on their sides, doors hanging open. He stepped over one, then spun at the sound of movement behind him. Another quick scurrying slither caused him to turn around again, but he wasn't fast enough to catch the shape. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence. No answer. Then he heard another rustle behind him, and this time he was ready. He spun the flashlight around, only to find himself face-to-face with one of the biggest rodents he had ever seen. Somehow it seemed inappropriate to call this huge, ponderous thing a rat. In the gleam of his flashlight, its eyes were bright red and its distended belly filled the space between its legs. Mulder let out a groan of disgust and stepped away slowly, having no intention of getting into an argument with it. The last thing he needed was tetanus shots, antibiotic shots, and any other kind of shots his partner thought might be necessary. Hell, she'd probably make up a couple just to be sure. Mulder hated needles. The rat watched him move away with unblinking composure, then turned and disappeared into the shadows with shocking speed. Mulder swallowed and fixed his eyes on the doorway ahead of him. Their suspect was in here somewhere, Mulder was certain of it; holed up like a rat in his nest, right at home with the rest of the local wild-life. Of course, it had been nearly impossible to convince anyone else of that fact. Actually, it wasn't even legitimately his and Scully's case. Sure, he'd been asked to do the psych profile, as he so often was on cases that were sitting at a stand-still. However, though The Pittsburgh Rapist had been easily eluding his pursuers for months, the Agent in charge of the case had sent the request unwillingly, under the direct order of his Bureau chief. The ambitious agent deeply resented what he saw as interference by the FBI's resident embarrassment, and had been openly hostile from the beginning. Mulder's carefully prepared profile had been received and discarded, leaving the monster free to continue his assaults, while Mulder and Scully were shunted off onto the most boring examples of useless leg-work. However, Mulder was an expert at ignoring being ignored. Waving off Scully's protests, he had begun his own investigation, drawing on his ability to see through the eyes of his quarry. And his partner had come through for him, as she always did. Not that this had been difficult, she had been far more angered by their treatment than he had, and she was just as determined as he was to put the monster behind bars - or into a six-foot hole in the ground. Sometimes it was hard not to prefer the second resolution, especially after seeing the latest victim in her hospital bed. Mulder's body tensed as he rounded another corner, peering intently into the darkness. The bastard was here, Mulder could *feel* him, almost as strongly as he could feel the presence of his partner, working her way across the floor above him. //Scully?\\ he called out silently, reaching instinctively for the reassurance of her presence. //Nothing so far.\\ //Nothing here either,\\ she replied. //I'm proceeding towards the back, then up to the next floor.\\ He sent a wave of approval down the mind-link. //I'm moving towards the front, then down to the basement. Be careful.\\ //You too,\\ came her response. - - - - - Mulder paused as he faced the door to the basement. It stood partially ajar, the old wood splintered and stained, streaks of the natural brown showing beneath the peeling fragments of once-white paint. Taking a deep breath, he nudged it further open with his foot, then angled himself into the space sideways. He held his gun hand held close to his chest, the flashlight extended outward, lighting the narrow staircase that wound down into the belly of the building. His vision was acutely focused on each step downwards, each creak of the steps under his weight sounding like thunder in the dark. One small portion of his awareness was still with his partner, the vision of a long empty hallway catching at the corner of his eyes, the smells of decay from above and below mixing in his mind. One more step downward, then another, then... //NNNNOOO! Mulder!\\ Her cry struck his mind, and he stumbled against the concrete wall, her pain lancing into his temples. He blinked, then saw through her eyes, staring up into the crazed face of their quarry. //Scully!!!!\\ he screamed. Staggering against the wall, his feet chasing purchase on the unsteady wood, he raced back up the stairs. Through the mind-link, he could feel her wariness, the eerie combination of fear and adrenaline, fury and determination, as she fought for her feet, turning to face her adversary in a natural fighter's crouch. For Mulder, it was like looking at a double-exposed photograph, the staircase and half-ajar door above him wavering on top of the image of the insanely-smiling, drug-widened face of the Rapist. A flash of light from Scully's flashlight caught on the knife in the human monster's hand as he wove it up and down, right to left in an unsteady pattern. Scully's eyes, and thus her partner's as well, followed each slicing motion of that blade, even as her hand inched across the floor beside her, feeling for the gun that had bounced out of her hand when she fell. The Rapist leapt closer to her sweeping out with the knife, and she abandoned the weapon, twisting to the side and beyond, backing up against the far wall. Her adversary moved more slowly, never losing the grin, with the air of one willing to wait for the victory. As he crept closer to her, she weaved on her toes, never once letting her eyes leave the knife blade as it cut through the air. Nothing distracted her from it, until nearly two floors below, Mulder stumbled on the stairs and fell forward, striking his chin on the edge of a step. His pain echoed in her mind, and her attention wavered just for an instant - an instant that was just enough time for the Rapist to strike. Scully's cry of pain shook Mulder, and he dropped the flashlight, ignoring the clatter as it tumbled downwards. Reaching out with his hands, one still clutching his gun awkwardly, he clambered up the stairs, crawling like a child who hasn't yet learned to walk. Scully clasped her wounded arm against her side and refocused on the creature facing her. He was barely recognizable as human, eyes glaring in the dim light, hair a ragged tangle around a broken-featured face, streaked with grime. A look of triumph contorted the smile into a grimace of hate, and the knife-blade was bright with the crimson stain of her blood. Cold fury seized her, and she forgot the pain of her wound, bending her knees into a ready crouch, her hands spread out in front of her. Ready and waiting. Below, Mulder was in a near panic as he finally reached the top of the stairs and struggled to his feet. Leaning against the door for support, he took a deep breath, then gasped it out, seeing the Rapist begin another attack through his partner's steady eyes. //No!\\ he screamed, reaching inside himself for every last ounce of strength. Focusing that energy into a single blast of power, he aimed it outwards through the mind-link. //Mulder...NO!\\ Her voice shouted in his head as she felt the power flood through her and outward, turning night to day, a bolt of burning blue light hitting the Rapist and knocking him up off his feet. Scully's eyes widened as her assailant was tossed up into the air on the blue stream, the knife clanking to the floor, his scream cut-off in mid-voice as he slammed into the ceiling with a thud, then collapsed to the floor in a broken heap. The surge of energy broke as quickly as it had become, leaving her to sink to her knees on the ragged carpet, overcome with a wave of dizziness and nausea. Even as her stomach coughed up the remnants of her dinner, she tried to reach for her partner's mind, only to find a blank emptiness at the end of their link. - - - - - She found him laying in a heap at the top of the basement stairs, his legs hanging out over the top step, his hips supporting the door as it swung unevenly on its rusted hinges. His head lay in the crook of one outflung arm, the other arm bent awkwardly against his chest. "Mulder!" she cried out, falling to her knees beside him. He didn't stir, even when she lifted up his head to draw him into her embrace. Supporting the back of his neck with one hand, she tenderly swept back the dark locks of hair off his temples. Unconscious, his features were at rest, the generous lips slightly parted, the usually piercing eyes shuttered and closed, thick black eyelashes fluttering across the pale skin below his eyes. //Mulder!\\ She called to him, fiercely, her mind-voice demanding, urgent, yet lilted into a heart-felt plea. //Please...wake up!\\ No answer, and the clear blue of her eyes grew moist. But she could feel his heart beat, see his chest rise and fall as he took each breath. That knowledge gave her strength, and fighting her own weariness, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate. Focusing a talent long-disused, she poured all of herself into him, gifting him with her life-energy drop by precious drop, until she drooped down over him, almost too exhausted to draw air into her lungs. He stirred in her arms, eyes fluttering open to catch a glimpse of her face resting above his, creamy freckled skin framed by a halo of copper-colored hair. //Dana...\\ The thought of her name was merely a whisper in his mind, but it was enough. //Yesss...\\ she returned, sliding down to the floor beside him. Where he found the strength to do it, he didn't know, but reaching out to clasp her against him was as automatic as the pumping of blood in his veins. Neither would ever be quite sure how long they remained in a huddle on the floor of the abandoned building, time devolving into an echo of each breath. The lassitude held them prisoner for a long while, wrapped in each other's arms, seemingly drawing on the earth itself to slowly rebuild their lost strength. Until, finally, Scully pulled herself up to a sitting position beside Mulder, tossing the tangle of auburn hair out of her eyes. He watched her move with barely alert eyes, the normally green-tinged brown deepened to pitch-black. They looked at each other for the space of a heartbeat, then the turmoil of emotion broke through her exhaustion. //MULDER!!\\ He winced, then grimaced at the pain the motion caused. //I...\\ This time she spoke aloud. "I could have handled it. You know better than to..." "I know that." She glared at him, but he met her gaze with sincerity. "I do," he insisted. "But I had to try to help. I HAD to." "You could have killed yourself. As it is, you drained both of us to nearly exhaustion. What if it hadn't worked? You promised not to use the magic unless there was no other choice." "I didn't think there was. I saw him coming at you with the knife. What was I supposed to do?" "Let ME handle it," she scolded him. "I am experienced with hand-to-hand combat and know full-well how to defend myself against a knife. I'm better at it than you and probably anyone else in the Bureau. I knew what I was doing." "Maybe," he agreed. "But things can go wrong, and I couldn't take the chance. I couldn't bear to lose you, I couldn't." His throat tightened as his voice threatened to break. He covered the emotion by rubbing at his eyes for a moment, they were wide and limpid as he turned them back on her face. "Scully, I respect your abilities, and trust you completely, but I just...reacted." He pushed up to full sitting position, and studied her face with anxiety, sensing the turmoil within. She finally nodded; not trusting herself to speak, she reached out to stroke his cheek. She knew he respected her, she also knew that he would always try to protect her. That was a natural part of his love for her, and of his fear of losing her. He had lost far too many people he cared for, and the pain of the losses would not easily heal. He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, even as he dropped the remnants of the shields around his mind. She accepted the gift and returned it, letting the contact between them widen into total communion. Floating in the balm of their love, neither noticed the footsteps approaching until the shadow fell through the faint glow of Mulder's flashlight and across their entwined eyes. Mulder reacted first, grabbing Scully by the shoulders in an effort to place himself between her and the sudden danger. But once awakened, she moved like lightning, bracing one hand against him, she whipped the other one outward, fingers outstretched towards the staggering figure. The Rapist jerked, a gurgle escaping from his twisted lips, as he stumbled backwards, the knife still clasped in his hand. He collapsed to the floor with a dull thud, flesh striking hard against the thin carpet. Mulder scrambled over to his body, warily snatching away the bloody knife from his still-convulsing fingers before turning his eyes on the engraved knife-hilt buried in the Rapist's chest. A slow chuckle rose in Mulder's throat as he turned surprised, yet admiring eyes on his partner. She shrugged as she rose out of her fighter's crouch. //Something Aldara taught me. Always keep an extra knife somewhere. In this case...\\ She drew her arm up to expose the sheath strapped to her forearm. //...Up my sleeve.\\ - - - - - Standing in front of the Assistant's Director's desk always made Fox Mulder feel like a schoolboy called to the Principals' office. Scully stood beside him exhibiting her usual poise, cool and collected while he found himself shuffling his feet and wriggling under the weight of Skinner's glare. "Agent Mulder, do you enjoy making enemies in the Bureau?" Skinner asked, peering out over the top of his thin-wire glasses at the fidgety agent. "No, sir." Mulder shook his head. //Well, maybe sometimes...\\ Scully threw him a sharp glance. //Behave yourself.\\ "Sir," Scully interposed. "We were requested to assist with this case. Agent Mulder profiled the Rapist, as per that request, then we simply followed up on the results." Skinner turned his marine-sergeant's glare on her. "According to Agent Grinman's report, you were assigned to interview the clients at the latest victim's beauty salon, were you not?" Scully shifted on her feet. "Yes, sir, but..." "But you disobeyed orders, as usual. Isn't that right, Agent Mulder?" Skinner interrupted. "My profile was correct," Mulder insisted, his temper rising. "Grinman stone-walled us from the beginning. First we're asked to take time out of our own work to help, and then our efforts are completely ignored. Grinman didn't even read it!" Hazel eyes blazed as Mulder stood his ground, drawing up to his full height. Skinner was hardly bowed by having to lean back to look up into the tall agent's face. "There are proper avenues through which to press your complaint. And perhaps, if you learned how to work with your fellow agents, instead of shooting off on your own, such situations would not arise." "You mean, if I didn't solve their cases for them, they'd like me better." Mulder responded angrily. "If that means letting idiots like Grinman stumble over their own feet while a monster is out there raping and disfiguring innocent women, then no thanks. I can do without being 'liked.'" That was a little hard to argue with, though Skinner was hardly going to admit it. Bottom-line, Mulder always managed to make things difficult. How could such a brilliant man, a gifted psychologist, be so blind when it came to inter-office politics? It wouldn't take much effort on his part to try to get along, but Mulder seemed to bend over backwards to make things even worse. And Skinner set himself to telling him so, in detail. Mulder set his teeth and let his boss' words fly over his head. OK, so admittedly he had a tendency to do things his own way. But he was right! Childish as it might be, he wasn't going to play nice to ambitious, brown-nosing fools who couldn't find their own gun if it wasn't strapped on.... //Look who's talking.\\ Scully's mind-voice broke into his thoughts. //How many weapons have you lost in the last year?\\ //Ha ha. Very funny. Those weren't my fault.\\ He protested. //I'd like to see Grinman in a fight with a pair of soul-eaters. Or with Tooms. Or with... \\ //I get the point. But Skinner is right, too. You really should try a little harder to get along. We could need back-up someday, you know. So it wouldn't hurt to avoid angering every member of the Bureau.\\ //Every member of the Bureau isn't angry at me,\\ he argued. //Just the stupid ones.\\ //Mulder...\\ Scully thought with some exasperation, but their silent conversation was interrupted by the sudden fall of silence in the room. Skinner was stonily eyeing them both. "Did either of you hear a word I just said?" he asked when their eyes focused in on him. "Of course, sir," Mulder replied. "You said..." He proceeded to quote Skinner's speech word for word, until the A.D. waved at him to shut up. Taking a deep breath, Skinner counted to ten silently, then took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, changing the subject. "Agent Scully, perhaps you can explain to me how The Pittsburgh Rapist, one Alden Drakes, ended up dead with an antique knife in his chest?" "Yes, sir." She replied, tensing up slightly. Carefully, she repeated the story she and Mulder had worked out, the one she knew Skinner had already read in their report. "The knife was a gift from a friend. I was planning to get it appraised, so I had it in my pocket. However, events overtook Agent Mulder and myself. I lost my gun when Drakes knocked me down on the second floor, so when he came at Mulder and myself later, it was the only weapon at hand. I know Mulder was reaching for his gun, but Drakes was coming at us too fast. Knowing that our lives were at serious risk, I determined that the use of force was required, and threw the knife." "Ah, huh," Skinner was noncommittal. "Killing a suspect with a knife is hardly typical Bureau procedure. Drake's family is shouting entrapment and the media are having a field-day with it." "Drakes was a dangerous psycho who was attacking Agent Scully and myself with a six-inch kitchen knife. What were we supposed to do, lay still and let him carve us up like he did nearly a dozen women in the last three months?" Mulder challenged. "No, of course not." Skinner replaced his glasses on his nose and sat up straight in his chair. "However, there will have to be a proper OPR inquiry into the matter. Until it is settled, I would suggest that you both take some vacation time." "What?" Mulder took a quick step forward. "No way. This case already took too much time away from our ongoing X-Files investigations." "Your present investigations can wait, Agent Mulder." Skinner turned a couple pages on his desk until he found the information he wanted. "According to Personnel, neither of you have taken a real vacation in close to a year - and I am deliberately excluding time spent recovering from injuries taken in the line of duty - of which there have been far too many." "Sir, that information is misleading," Scully started, then paused, exchanging glances with Mulder. There was no way they could explain about their time in the Realm without sounding like they had REALLY gone around the bend. "How so?" Skinner pursued. "Unh...," Scully stammered. "We took some long weekends," Mulder came to her rescue. "Long weekends..." Skinner's tone was deeply skeptical. Then with a wave of his hand, he dismissed the question. "Doesn't matter. AT LEAST one full week's vacation, preferably two, for BOTH of you, starting tomorrow." Mulder's jaw tightened defiantly, but before he could speak, Scully kicked him mentally. //Not now, Mulder.\\ He frowned, but swallowed his argument - just barely. "Is that all, sir?" Scully asked, keeping her expression as calm as possible. "Yes, for now. Don't forget the FBI Banquet tonight. You will both be attending." Skinner expressed that as a statement, causing both agents to feel their hearts sink. Deciding retreat was the best solution for the mome nt, Scully tapped Mulder on the arm, urging him from the room as quickly as possible. He was quite willing to go, and they had to hold themselves from running to the door. ----------------------- end Chpt 1 Part A ------------------------ =========================================================================== Chapter One Part B "Hey, Scully - I know! Why don't you invite Frohicke? He'd LOVE to go with you!" Mulder smirked at his partner as she threw him a burning look of disgust. They had both forgotten the annual FBI banquet until their session in Skinner's office that morning, thus finding themselves faced with a sudden dilemma. Skinner had made it clear that he expected them both to attend. Since, they had worked hard to keep their private relationship a secret, attending together was hardly feasible. But with the party that very night, finding other dates had become a difficult proposition. Scully sighed, then looked up at her partner seriously. "Well, it IS a possibility," she teased blandly. Mulder's grin broke instantly into a frown. Scully laughed. "I'm not THAT desperate." She kept well-shielded the thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Frohicke was reasonably harmless... Well, then again, maybe not. Mulder leaped up out of his chair and began to prowl their small office, dodging file cabinets and the corners of the desks with practiced ease. "This is hopeless. We're never going to find dates at such short notice. I say we just bag it. Tell Skinner we had paperwork to do, or something." Mulder's face lit up. "He'll buy that. In fact, I'd rather actually DO the paperwork. What do you think?" Scully shook her head. "No way. He said we had to go. I could do without another session in Skinner's office. Anyway, I'm sure you can find someone to put up with your company for a few hours without having to pay them for the privilege. I'm certainly not going to sit around here feeling sorry for myself." She rose to her feet and picked up her purse. "Where are you going?" Mulder asked anxiously. "To find a date. I'd suggest you do the same." And then she was gone. - - - - - The big banquet hall was filled with men in dark suits, dark islands floating in a sea of color. The women's dresses shimmered and flowed around them in various shades of red and blue, green and gold, purple and white. Scully self-consciously tugged at the hemline of her simple, knee-length sea-green dress, then turned to give her blind date a small smile. He grinned down at her, a big wide smile on a big wide face. He wasn't that much taller than her, but he was built like a brick. Solid, with massive arms and shoulders, legs like the trunk of a tree. He made her feel tiny, not in the way that Mulder did with his lanky height, but as though she was as light as a feather next to a giant oak tree. And to her surprise, he seemed to have a personality to match, quiet, good-natured, as much at ease in a room full of strangers as he might be in his own home. Taking his proffered arm, Scully took a deep breath and managed to relax as they headed into the crowd. Her only concern now was Mulder, she hadn't heard from him since she had left the office that noon. - - - - - Mulder nodded politely at a pair of agents, wishing yet again that he was anywhere else but where he was. Beside him, her hand clutched possessively on his arm, was Special Agent Diana Henderson, the FBI's leading expert on handwriting analysis. Mulder had wandered the halls of the Bureau for a while after Scully had left, until he literally knocked over Henderson outside the forensics lab. Falling naturally into the flirtatious banter they usually indulged in over evidence samples, he seized the opportunity to ask her to the banquet - not really expecting her to say yes. But she had glowed in response, her round face lighting up with pleasure as she agreed, making his heart sink under a sense of guilty relief. Edging his way through the busy crowd, Mulder wryly returned the glowing smile she gave him, then cast his eyes out over the sea of heads, looking for a familiar flash of red. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Scully in hours, and though he could have reached out for her through their life-bond, he had been struck by a sudden case of the nerves. The silence on the other end of the mind-link hurt more than he could ever have realized. - - - - - Stifling a yawn, Scully gave yet another polite smile to her date, then picked up her fork and shoved the peas around her plate. She knew it wasn't nice of her to feel this way, but she was bored out of her skull. It wasn't that Douglas was unpleasant or even stupid, he was just dull. Well, not really dull, just... Not Mulder. Stabbing at a couple of the annoying round vegetables, she admitted to herself that that was the problem. You'd think that after being in each other's pocket close to 24 hours a day for months, that a small break from each other wouldn't be a problem. It ought to be a breath of fresh air, but it wasn't. She felt empty and incomplete, like an important part of herself was missing. And in a very real way, it was. She kept expecting him to appear in front of her, smiling that slightly wicked, always boyish grin of his, the stubborn bangs dropping over his forehead, his bright hazel eyes gleaming with intelligence and humor. And when she turned her head to see he wasn't there, she felt herself physically droop, her heart settling into her belly. She felt sick to her stomach, and this food wasn't helping. "Are you okay, Dana?" Douglas asked with concern showing in his brown eyes. "Yes," she forced herself to give a brittle laugh. "I'm fine," she insisted. Then she looked down at her plate and grimaced. "I think it's just the food." He laughed openly. "Yeah, banquet food never changes. Its either bad or worse." She smiled at the joke, feeling a stab of guilt. He really was a nice man and it wasn't his fault that he just wasn't the right one for her. Feeling an aching need for the man she had come to love so deeply, she closed her eyes and sent out a call along that indefinable link that was their life-bond. //Mulder!!!\\ - - - - - Leaning back in his chair, Mulder almost toppled over when Scully's voice sounded in his head. He recovered quickly, though not without garnering a couple of stares from his dinner companions. For once, being 'Spooky' Mulder was a blessing. He figured that even if he got up on the table and started a strip tease, no one would be particularly surprised. And given the increasing state of inebriation of some of the agents, they might even enjoy it. //Especially Diana.\\ Scully commented acidly. //Don't remind me.\\ Mulder sighed, throwing the tall blond a quick glance. She gave him a predatory smile, pressing a stockinged toe along the length of his calf. He pulled back, shifting uneasily in his chair. //Scully!!!\\ Her laugh chimed in his head. //Sorry, Mulder. You got yourself into it, you'll have to get yourself out. Didn't you know that she's had the hots for you for years?\\ The contact between their minds was as comfortable as it had always been, creating a small glow of warmth that radiated outward from the center of her chest. //How was I supposed to know that?\\ He complained. //I didn't think she'd think this was more than... a dinner date.\\ He was incredibly relieved to hear from Scully, knowing that he'd been stupid not to reach out to her, feeling the familiar touch of her mind reverberate along every nerve in his body. //And you're supposed to be the FBI's best psychological analyst,\\ she teased. //Figuring out what's going on in the head of a psycho is much easier than trying to understand women,\\ he shot back. //IS that right?\\ Even though he was on the other side of the room, and facing away from her, Mulder could just SEE her right eyebrow inch upwards over a clear blue eye. //So where'd you find Hulk Hogan?\\ He quickly changed the subject. //DOUGLAS is a friend of my friend Elizabeth.\\ //Ahh, the matchmaker...\\ His thought came tinged with amusement. //Mulder!\\ Scully mentally shook her head. //She means well, and besides, she came through for me tonight. Skinner very much approves.\\ //Oh, does he indeed?\\ That thought went over with a bit more bitterness than Mulder had intended. //Mulder...\\ //I'm sorry, Scully. I just hate this. These stupid banquets are bad enough, without having to see you with some blond weight-lifter type while I have to fend off an octopus.\\ Diana's foot was insistent against his leg, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. //I'm not terribly happy about it either.\\ Scully let some of her own discontent drift into her sending. //Douglas really is a nice guy - and he is a medical doctor - but we don't have much else in common, and well, I'm bored!\\ That complaint got a rush of amusement from Mulder. //Guess I've spoiled you, huh, Scully?\\ //Maybe,\\ she replied with some self-directed humor. //Not that a little peace and quiet isn't welcome.\\ //You could send some this way,\\ Mulder told her, wriggling in his chair. //I think I need to be rescued. SOON!\\ //OK. I'll see what I can do.\\ Scully nearly found herself laughing aloud at the images that were coming from her partner's mind. Diana looked more like a hungry tiger than a cool competent woman, and Mulder's sense of repulsion was translating into a serious itch. - - - - - Dinner started to break up as people began to wander between the tables, working their way through copious amounts of alcohol. The tenor of the conversations was rising into louder laughter and more expressive interactions. Music was already filtering in from the neighboring ballroom, and a few couples were slowly moving in that direction, weaving around the wait-staff as they attempted to clear the tables. Scully and Douglas found Mulder just as he was about to attempt to flee to the men's room, any excuse to get away from Diana. Scully smiled at the look of utter relief he turned on her, as he got up too quickly from the table, spilling his chair over onto its side. Douglas was there to pick it up, while Diana peeled herself up out of her own chair to meld herself against Mulder's side. "Thank you," Mulder said to Douglas, though his eyes never left his partner's face. "Hi Scully." As he moved closer to her, Diana came along with him, giving Scully a territorial glare. Scully gave her a calm smile in return. "Douglas, this is my partner, Fox Mulder. And Diana Henderson. Mulder, this is Dr. Douglas Sheldon." Mulder winced as his hand got seized in an iron vice, but he managed to squeeze out a grin. "Nice to meet you Doug." "You, too, Fox." That really made Mulder grimace in pain, causing Scully to leap in with the explanation. "Mulder doesn't like his first name much. Better call him Mulder, everyone else does." "Sorry," Douglas replied with casual good humor. "That's okay," Mulder replied. "Just don't do it again, or I'll have to arrest you." Diana laughed, Douglas grinned, Scully threw Mulder an exasperated glance. He shrugged lightly. "So have you two known each other for long?" Diana asked archly, still rubbing herself against Mulder's side. "Not long," Scully answered blandly. "A friend introduced us." //Don't just stand there, help me get away from her!\\ Mulder mind-spoke plaintively. Scully smiled. //Take it easy.\\ Then she spoke aloud. "If you don't mind sparing me for a moment, Douglas, Mulder promised me a dance tonight, and I think I'd like to collect." "That's a great idea!" Mulder had a hard time not shouting his reply. Taking the chance to disentangle himself from Diana rapidly, he grabbed Scully's hand and led her away. "We'll be right back," he tossed over his shoulder, though he added silently, //...over my dead body!\\ Diana watched them go, her face settling into a discontented frown, ignoring Douglas until he stepped up behind her and put a large hand on her shoulder. "I'm not much of a dancer, but I'd be glad to give it a try if you'd be willing," he offered. Diana turned to look at him fully for the first time. She took in the thick, curly blond hair, the guileless brown eyes, and the heavy, well-defined muscles obvious under the expensive, tailored suit, and her red lips began to pull up into a smile. "I think I'd like that very much." - - - - - The music swelled around them as Scully settled into Mulder's arms with a sigh of relief. //I missed you.\\ //I missed you, too,\\ he replied, drawing her even closer to him as he guided them across the floor. //I'm sorry I acted the way I did, I should have...\\ //It was my fault, too,\\ Scully offered. //I guess even a life-bond doesn't guarantee communication, if we refuse to use it.\\ Mulder nodded, leaning his face down to take in the sweet, clean scent of her hair. //Maybe we took it too much for granted,\\ he thought wryly. //I was so jealous at the thought of you going out with another man, even when I knew it wasn't for real. I trusted you, but it hurt anyway.\\ //I felt the same way,\\ she replied, nuzzling into the hollow of his shoulder. Dancing with him always made her feel like she was floating on a cloud, her feet seemed to hardly touch the ground. He held her, guided her, supported her - and all she had to do was relax into the warmth of his embrace. Mulder didn't reply, let his emotions flow down the mind-link, while he gazed down at the top of her fiery head. He would never lose the sense of amazement that this strong, passionate, smart, beautiful woman could possibly love him as much as she did. Scully caught the edges of that thought, making her smile against his chest. She loved seeing the image of herself in his heart and mind, though she sometimes had trouble associating it with herself. But then, she knew that her own image of him was a continuous surprise to him, even more so, because of his tendency towards self-denigration. That was one of the things she would never forgive his parents for, among others. But this was not the time for bad thoughts, right now she just wanted to savor the delight of dancing with the man she loved. - - - - - The song ended far too soon, and Mulder was slow to release Scully. Even as the strains of the next song started up, he held her close, and in turn, she resisted his pulling away. //One more, please?\\ she urged, almost sleepily, her eyes heavy-lidded with contentment. Mulder found that look of sleepy satisfaction in her bright blue eyes incredibly erotic, his groin muscles tensing in reaction. Scully was close enough to read both the physical and emotional desire in his response, causing her to curve her mouth upwards in the smile of a woman secure in her man's love. Which only exacerbated his arousal. //Easy,\\ she told him, as his eyes darkened and his emotions threatened to flood her. //I think we'd better save that for later...\\ Both her mind and her eyes promised him that it would be worth the wait. He groaned softly, his eyes piercing hers. //Not too much later...\\ //Not too much later...\\ she agreed, twining a hand through the hair on the back of his neck. //But we'd better watch it now, or we'll ruin the whole effect of our dates.\\ //Our dates?\\ Mulder's head shot up, his eyes scanning the room as his body tensed, this time with anxiety rather than desire. Then he relaxed visibly. Scully turned in his arms, easily following his gaze. A few feet away, Diana and Douglas were dancing smoothly, their blond heads bent closely together. As Mulder and Scully watched with growing amusement, Douglas laughed and twirled the fair agent out, then back in, dropping her into a dip so deep her head almost hit the floor. Then he effortlessly pulled her up against him, his large arms flexing around her slim waist. Diana was giggling helplessly, sliding against him, her eyes pinned to his face. From their vantage point, Mulder and Scully were having a hard time keeping the laughter contained. She leaned back against him, shaking with mirth. He closed his arms around her and squeezed, then leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Looks like love at first sight to me." "Elizabeth is going to have a fit! She had such high hopes for Douglas and me." Scully laughed, then looked up into his gleaming hazel eyes. "Well, at least we don't have to feel so badly about using them to get out of our own mess." Mulder grinned. "And better yet, we can steal another dance or two out of it." Saying that, he released her only long enough to turn her around, then he drew her close again. She smiled back at him, then closed her eyes and let him lead her back into the dance. //Remember the last time we danced together?\\ Scully thought reflectively. //Yes.\\ The memory of the victory celebration in the Realm resolved itself in both their minds, Mulder's eidetic memory bringing each sensation into clear relief. Closing her eyes, Scully could HEAR the sound of the Realm-style music sounding above them, while her body remembered the feeling of wearing the thick soft velvet, and her eyes could recall the bright mix of colors under the clear blue sky. //I miss it sometimes.\\ She sent softly. //Now, it seems almost like a dream.\\ //I know, I miss it too.\\ Mulder's mind-voice tasted bittersweet. Scully shifted in his arms, lifting her face up towards his. "I wonder how our friends are. I hope things are okay there." "I'm sure they are fine, love," Mulder reassured her. "Reinald would have contacted us if something was wrong." His hand drew up to his throat, pressing through the silk of his shirt to feel the solid presence of the miniature oracle cloud resting against his chest. Sculy nodded. "Yes, though I wish there was a way to contact them sometimes. Or to visit." "I know." He let his hand drop to gently rest on the small of her back. "We will see them again sometime. I'm sure of it." "I hope so," she replied, nestling back into the circle of his embrace. "I've been thinking about them a lot lately, wondering how Aldara and Jourdain are doing..." "And Reinald, and Tarnor, and Andalor..." Mulder agreed. "I've been thinking about them a lot too." He stared out over her head, his eyes focusing on empty air. "I wonder what they are doing right now?" End Chapter One =========================================================================== Chapter Two Part A He had been careful and patient, cooperative and compliant, and today he would have his reward. Andalor contemplated the travel sack and looked around his chambers. What would he need for his journey? >From the armoire he took a couple of changes of clothing and thrust them into the sack, even as he surveyed the room for other necessities. His knife, of course. That followed the clothing into the bag. The boy crossed the room, picking up a poker as he passed the hearth, and stopped in the far corner of the chamber. Shoving aside a small but heavy wooden table, he dropped to his knees. He felt in the gloom of the dark corner for the stone which rocked slightly at his touch. Using the poker as a lever, he raised the paving stone from the floor and strained to push it aside. He reached into the cavity and brought up a small but weighty leather pouch. Then the boy replaced the stone and the table, and carried the pouch to his bed where he spilled out the contents. There were five lumps of the yellow metal that Mulder told him was so valuable in the other world. Andalor looked at them doubtfully. Although the metal was used in the Realm for making jewelry and other small decorative items, those items were valued for their stones or their engravings rather than for the metal itself. It was considered too soft and heavy for anything really practical or valuable, such as swords and tools. Andalor hoped that Mulder had been correct about its value - he planned to use the metal to trade for what he needed in the other world. Two lovely rings also lay on the bed - one for Mulder with a glittering deep blue stone, and one for Scully with an opaque green and brown cat's eye stone. The jewels had been carefully chosen, not only to represent the auras of the wearers, but also because they were from a small collection of stones reputed to have magical powers, for those who knew how to use them properly. Andalor had commissioned a famous artisan to make the rings long ago, before he had given up hope that Mulder and Scully would find their way back to the Realm. Well, if they couldn't receive them in the Realm, Andalor would bring the rings to them, in their own world. Accompanying the rings were two cuff-style bracelets, commissioned more recently. One large and one small, they were of the heavy yellow metal and were engraved with scenes from the Realm. The final items from the pouch were three medium-sized crystals. Reinald had given him these miniature oracle clouds and had instructed the boy in their use, so that when Andalor was out amongst his subjects in the Realm he could use them to contact the magician. He had never needed to use them, but he thought they might come in handy for contacting Mage Mulder when he got to the other world. He knew Mulder had been given a similar crystal on his departure from the Realm. Andalor scooped the metal, the jewelry and the crystals up from the bed and returned them to the pouch, which he then placed in the travel sack. Going into the little washing chamber, he took a few of the soft cloths from the stack and carried them to the table. He wrapped his breakfast breads in one, some fruits in another and a large hunk of dried meat in the third, and added them to the bag. Crossing to the hearth, he took an earthenware flask down from the mantle. Carefully he filled it with tea from the pot on the table, then pushed in the leather and cork stopper. He remembered how much Mulder had appreciated the restorative qualities of Realm tea. Possibly he himself would have need of such a restorative in Mulder's world. The flask followed the other things into the sack. Packing complete, Andalor sat in an armchair by the fire to await the perfect moment to put his plan into action - what plan there was. He assumed that something would occur to him when the time came. The only thing he knew for sure was that somehow, he would get into that room and go through the Vortex. He felt odd. There was the frisson of excitement, to be sure, for the new challenges and new experiences to come. But there was also a little fear about those same experiences. What would he encounter in Mulder's world? What if he couldn't find Mulder? Impatiently, Andalor dismissed his gloomy thoughts. How big could this other world be? Besides, surely everyone in his world would have heard of Mulder and could therefore tell him where to find the Mage. Between Mulder's renown and the miniature oracle clouds, Andalor was sure he would have no trouble. What totally surprised him, however, was the tiny but persistent sensation at the back of his mind which told him that he would miss the familiarity of the Realm and his existence here. He had not expected that. Just nerves, he told himself. Like a warrior right before a great battle. This is the right thing to do, he assured himself - a great Quest. He deserved to have a little fun and adventure before returning to take up the crown and spend the remainder of his life in servitude to the Realm. Andalor frowned. IF he decided to return - the prospect of living out his days among the quarrelsome noble houses and the intrigues of the court was not attractive. The boy hoped that his preparations would not be wasted. He had estimated that the crucial experiment would take place today, but he could not be sure. No matter. If it wasn't today, it would be soon. The main thing was to keep his plan a secret. A light tap at the door interrupted Andalor from his thoughts, and his servant came into the room to clear away the remains of breakfast. Dorbo looked with satisfaction at the table. "Hungry this morning, I see, Your Highness! I must say I'm happy to see that. There for a while you weren't eating as much as my youngest, who's but a baby. That's good - you're growing, you need your food." The servant chattered on, about Andalor's babyhood, about the late King and Queen, about some of his childhood pranks, as he did his work. Andalor surveyed Dorbo with a mixture of affection and exasperation. He had been hearing his elven servant fret about his nutritional status ever since he could remember, and he could remember back to well before his parents died. With a start, Andalor thought of the sack at his feet near the hearth. If his servant spotted that, he would ask questions for sure! And Dorbo had as much aura reading capability as any elf - his plan could be ruined! Gingerly, he pushed the sack slowly under his chair with his foot. He stopped abruptly when he saw the elf begin to turn in his direction. Fortunately, the elf did not look at him, but merely continued to pile the baskets and dishes on the tray as he delivered his message. "Oh, by the way, Your Highness. Reinald asked me to remind you to have your essay ready - the one on the ramifications of the marriage between Limna of the House of Maalfees and Brot the Trembler of the House of Ranfaus. He won't be able to meet you this morning as planned. He asked if you would instead meet him in his chambers immediately after the noon meal. He said he had something to do with the Professor which would delay him." The elf effortlessly lifted the heavy tray of used crockery to his shoulder and moved to the door. Distracted, Andalor murmured, "Yes - all right, Dorbo." Glancing up, feeling a sudden pang, he blurted out, "Oh, and Dorbo - thank you for everything." The elf looked back at him, pleased and touched. While Andalor was a good master and usually thoughtful, recently he had been withdrawn and surly. "You're quite welcome, Your Highness." The little elf went out, closing the door behind him. Andalor returned to his thoughts. Limna and Brot the Trembler indeed. So Reinald was meeting right now with the Professor. Andalor had been correct in his timing after all. He pulled his sack out from under the chair. He took a last look around his chamber, and threw the sack over his shoulder as he walked to the door. Sticking his head out, he surveyed the empty stone corridor. Then he left his chamber, making his way stealthily up to the battlements and the workroom of the Professor. - - - - - "Carefully, Professor! Be very careful with that!" The Mage looked on nervously as the Professor made a few last minute adjustments to one of the liquid-filled jars on the long wooden table. "Not to worry, Reinald," the scientist said mildly. "I've handled trickier stuff than this. Why, it isn't even radioactive." Neumann immersed the metallic wires in the liquid. Reinald looked puzzled. "Ray-dee-oh-ak-tif?" He pronounced the alien word haltingly. Neumann smiled to himself. "Never mind. Hand me that parchment, would you please? I just want to check my calculations one more time." The Mage did as he was asked, then started to pace the length of the room. "Will it work, do you think? It seems so much more ambitious than our earlier experiments. The creature is so much larger." "Don't worry so much - it's just a logical extension of our previous work. If all goes well and we proceed to the next step - now, that will be cause for some anxiety." The room now had twice as much equipment as it had on that day long ago when Andalor had first stumbled across the make-shift laboratory. Twice as many bubbling cauldrons, twice as many benches and tables with twice as many strange devices. Not to mention the large goat, standing in the center of the room and looking on the activity around it with a baleful glare. Ordinarily, no amount of coaxing or prodding would have gotten a goat up the many flights of winding staircases to the very top level of the castle. The goat's presence in the room was not quite silent testimony to some advances in Reinald's magic. He had created a spell which would, without the necessity of building a Gate, "transport" living creatures very short distances. The goat had been given a sleeping potion by Corvay, and then moved from the courtyard to the workroom by means of the spell. It did not appear to have enjoyed the experience. In fact, it was decidedly cranky. It was Reinald's active participation in the Professor's time and space experiments, using these advances, that had brought them to where they were today. After months of tests, they could finally send and retrieve small inanimate objects on a regular basis. For the past several experiments, they had sent small animals made somnolent and cooperative by one of Corvay's potions, and had then retrieved them healthy from the other side of the vortex - wherever that was. And that was the point - while the Professor thought he knew where these objects and animals were going, he could not prove they had arrived at that exact place. Not unless he sent an intelligent being. Neumann had read all the Realm records (as well as the FBI records) of the old Vortex experiments which had ended so tragically. He thought he could control both the place to which the subjects were sent, and the time of their arrival. That is what he wanted so badly to prove. And today's experiment was another step closer to the truth. If the larger animal could be sent through the vortex and retrieved safely, their next step would be finding a human volunteer. That person would be able to tell the pair what he had experienced on the other side of the vortex when he returned. "All right, we need to get the goat over closer to the door. That's where the vortex will form. It's easier to move the goat than recalculate the vortex." Neumann took the rope and began to attempt to pull the goat towards the door, a distance of some fifteen or twenty feet. With equal determination, the goat stood its ground, refusing to move. "Come on, you noisome, recalcitrant beast! Reinald - help me!" Together the scientist and the mage pushed, pulled and prodded the animal into position by the half-open door. The scientist moved to the jars, fiddled with some wires, and handed a relay to the magician. "It's in your hands now, Reinald." Grasping the relay, Reinald closed his eyes and began to chant. For some time, the Professor watched him perform this increasingly familiar ritual. At times when he was alone, he would shake his head in wonder at the strange path his scientific research had taken. But despite his deepest misgivings when he had first started his experiments in the Realm, he had made more progress here than he had in his own world. At first he had been frustrated by the things that he lacked - equipment, power, and so on. But eventually he discovered assets peculiar to the Realm. The talents of the Mage more than made up for the inconvenience of the lack of electricity and computers. On the hearth, a cauldron began to bubble over, creating steam and an unbelievable stench. Fearful that the Mage's concentration would be interrupted, Neumann rushed to the fireplace to take the pot from the heat. The sleepy goat opened its eyes at the sudden movement in the room to notice a proffered piece of fruit, just the other side of the doorway. Yellow eyes alight with interest, the goat trotted unnoticed out the door and down the hall to where several of the sweet fruits lay scattered on the stone floor. The air near the door began to shimmer and waver. A soft rumbling sound intensified to a moderate roar, as the wavering gave way to a wild swirling motion and parchments were blown from the table by its force. The Professor had dealt with the little emergency on the hearth and was finally turning toward the door when the roar reached its peak. To his horror, he saw, not a goat, but the Prince of the Realm diving through the newly created vortex into the unknown. The Mage's eyes had sprung open at the Professor's strangled cry, too late to see the cause of it. Neumann stood transfixed for several seconds, while Reinald stared at him. "Gunther, what is it?" the Mage finally asked, anxiously. "Are you all right?" "Oh my God, Reinald - Andalor went through the vortex. What are we going to do?" Guilt-stricken, Neumann turned to his partner. "I am so sorry...I never thought..." "WHAT? Andalor? How did... Well, bring him back - now!" shouted the mage. "You would have brought the cursed goat back by now, so just bring him back!" "Reinald, it's not that simple. The calculations I performed were based on the weight and size of the animal." The Professor ran his hands distractedly through his hair. He moved to the table and clutched at a dozen or more parchments filled with tiny figures. "It took me days to make these calculations. It will take me days to recalculate and try to determine where Andalor may be - in both space and time - because it most certainly will NOT be exactly the same place and time the goat would have emerged. I won't know until I do the figures." Reinald stared at Neumann as if cast in stone. "Are you telling me that you don't know where he is?" Neumann shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Reinald, but no, I don't. If I had to make a guess...I don't know." He sank dejectedly onto a stool. "What did we do wrong? How could such a terrible accident have happened?" The magician looked around helplessly. The Professor looked up at him, surprised. "Reinald, I'm very sorry - perhaps I should have made it more clear. It wasn't an accident. Andalor had a bag with him. He ran into the vortex deliberately." - - - - - The scientist and the magician made their way in stunned silence to Reinald's chambers. When they arrived, the full impact of what had happened suddenly seemed to hit the magician, and he collapsed into the waiting arms of his mage-apprentice Pitir. With the scientist's help, the little troll got Reinald to an armchair and they gently lowered him into it. "Pitir, listen. Run and get Jourdain, Aldara, and Corvay. Tell them it's an emergency." Pitir ran out as fast as his short little legs would carry him. Meanwhile, the Professor busied himself at the hearth, heating water to make tea, and occasionally glancing worriedly over at the Mage. In no time at all Jourdain came bursting through the door. "What happened?" he thundered, as he rushed to the Mage's side. Ever since Reinald's arrest and trial so long ago, Jourdain had been very protective of the Mage, possibly because he had come so close to having to execute his friend. Jourdain appeared much as he had in those days - maybe a little heavier, a little grayer, a little less stern. Although Reinald would steadfastly maintain that he kept personal relationships to a minimum, his friendship with Jourdain was closer than blood. Now the soldier looked down on the pale features of his friend and was afraid. "It's shock, I think," said the Professor, suddenly exhausted. "Wait til the others get here, and I'll tell you all what happened at the same time. I don't think I could go through it more than once," he finished dejectedly. Their attention was drawn to the door as a tiny child darted through it and was at Reinald's feet in a flash, followed by a panting Aldara. "Daanna! I told you to wait! This is NOT how you enter the Mage's chambers!" she began scolding her daughter, then caught the serious expression on her husband's face. "Jourdain, what is it?" she asked, suddenly frightened. Their lives had bordered on the idyllic for so long, Aldara had almost forgotten what trouble and fear were. The intervening years had been good to her and she had changed little. She still had the slight limp caused by her serious injuries during the war with the Dark creatures, and she was not quite so painfully thin as she had once been. Not in real fighting form, perhaps, but still as fit as her injury would allow her to be. Her black curly hair remained without signs of gray, and her vision and hearing still as keen as that of an eagle. The only change was a nebulous one - the softness of contentment replacing the seriousness and even bitterness that had once marked her visage. That soft look was on her face now as she watched her little girl hold Reinald's hand and pat it, crooning to the semi-conscious Mage. "We were in the nursery, playing. She suddenly s topped and said that we had to come here quick because Reinald needed us." She watched her daughter with something akin to awe. "He's in shock," Jourdain said in a low voice. "Something's happened, I don't know what. After Corvay has seen to Reinald, the Professor will tell us all what's going on. Probably something to do with those accursed experiments they've been doing. I warned Reinald...." The soldier made a sudden move of impatience, then looked up as Pitir came rushing into the room accompanied by Corvay and the elven healer's human assistant Kyla. "I couldn't find...oh, you're here," said Pitir, noticing Aldara's presence. "I guess I should have known. So the little one did it again, heh?" He smiled at the little girl despite his fear for his master. "Daanna, come with me, poppet, and give Healer Corvay room to work, all right?" He took the child's hand. As he led her across the chamber to a quiet corner, she turned to look back at the tense group of adults. "It's okay, he's just 'fraid about Andalor. If you find Andalor, he'll be all better." With that, the tiny child allowed herself to be taken away from the scene of activity. Corvay and Kyla crowded close to Reinald and touched their hands to his head and chest. Discovering that his state was, indeed, more a mental than physical problem as Daanna had told them, they began a chant designed to bring about solace and strengthening. After several minutes, Reinald began to stir. Kyla assisted him to sit up while Corvay poured out a dose of one of his potions and held it to Reinald's lips. The mage wrinkled his nose and scowled furiously but drank down the whole draught. Reassured that Reinald was in no danger, Aldara helped the Professor to distribute tea to everyone in the room, as they all found places to sit. "Well, someone start," rumbled Jourdain. Hearing her father's voice, Daanna broke away from Pitir and scurried over to climb up onto his lap. He gathered her into his arms instinctively and his face lost a little of its intimidating look. Aldara noticed and smiled to herself. It had been so since the day of the child's birth almost four years ago. One look and he had been captivated by his tiny daughter. She had elven features with the exception of human ears, and shared the black curls of her mother and the dark blue eyes of her father. What the child's parents had come to understand only lately, however, was the fact that Daanna was gifted with a very rare and special form of magic talent. These gifts were not apparent from birth, as with most mage children, but rather had begun appearing within the past several months and were of a power that had not been seen in many generations. Recently Reinald had begun teaching her controls and shielding; he was unsure if she needed the traditional lessons, but felt it would be better to be safe than sorry. Aside from seeming more mature and a bit quieter than other children her age, the child seemed to be a normal, happy little girl who accepted her gifts artlessly. The Professor cleared his throat. "All right, I'll begin. Reinald and I were conducting an experiment, up near the battlements. We created a small vortex" - at the mention of the word a sharp intake of breaths could be heard and looks of terror darted from person to person - "no, no, nothing like that sort of vortex. We've been creating them for quite some time now, small controllable ones. There haven't been any problems." "Up until now," Corvay said dryly. The little old elf had become even more wizened over the years, but his wit had lost none of its sharpness. He did little healing himself now, except for the Prince and the small group now in Reinald's chambers. For the most part, he trained others in the chants and techniques that had made him such a wonderful healer. His newest assistant, Kyla, had come from a small northern village less than a year ago and was making great progress. But none had learned so well or so quickly as the beautiful, strange, doubting woman he had taught so long ago. Corvay thought often of her and her bondmate, the brave people who had risked everything to help them save the Realm. Heatedly, the Professor countered, "There was nothing wrong with the experiment. It went just as it should have. What we didn't know was that Andalor knew about the experiments. He has run away into the vortex." "What?" "By the gods!" "But why?" Exclamations could be heard from everyone in the room. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Are you sure, Professor? That just doesn't sound like Andalor," asked Aldara earnestly. "I'm afraid there is no doubt, my dear," Reinald said wearily. "Andalor has been very restless lately, full of questions, not applying himself to his studies. I attributed it to his age and failed to take his complaints as seriously as I obviously should have. No, there is no question." As Reinald trailed off to gaze into the flames of the hearth, the Professor again spoke. "I saw Andalor purposely dive into the vortex - he was not pulled into it. He also had with him a travel sack. Evidently, while my attention was elsewhere, he lured the goat - which we were intending to send through the vortex - out of the room and down the hall with some fruit. He must have known about the experiments for some time and came prepared." "Well, where did he go? Oh, goddess, not to that horrible place of the Dark creatures," Aldara shrank in her seat, all the nightmarish memories coming back in a rush. "NO!" said the Professor, seeing the panic in so many faces. More gently, he said, "No, he hasn't gone there. I can't tell you for sure where he HAS gone exactly, but I do know where he HASN'T gone. I believe he is in my former world - somewhere. I think he is probably there close to the same time the goat should have arrived - within a decade or two." "A decade or two? Is that as close as you can come?? We'll NEVER find him," Jourdain roared. "Calm yourself, Jourdain," said Corvay mildly. "I suspect that the Professor can come closer than that, can't you, Professor Neumann?" "Yes, of course I can. It's just going to take some time to recalculate everything. But I should be able to find him." "And then what?" Reinald said plaintively. Aldara looked at her own child, safe on her father's lap and imagined Andalor alone in a totally alien world. She raised her eyes to take in the rest of the group and spoke with determination. "And then we go get him." -------------------------- End Chpt 2 Part A -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Two Part B The group had wrangled back and forth for several hours on the wisdom of trying to find Andalor in the other world, and who should constitute the rescue party. Finally, when the shadows climbed the walls and one of the moons was visible through the tall windows of Reinald's chamber, Corvay called a halt to the discussion. "Enough. We are all exhausted." Corvay got stiffly to his feet, drew a small bottle from his brown robe and passed it to Kyla. "A generous dose, my dear. Pour it out for Reinald. And Reinald, you will take it without making your usual fuss - that sets a bad example for the child. This potion will help you to sleep. We will all be thinking clearer in the morning. I have listened to you all bicker back and forth for hours. Now, may I suggest a course of action?" Wearily, the members of the group indicated their agreement with nods or grunts. "Ah, good. Being sensible at last." The old elf smiled his approval. "All right. Obviously, Professor, your first duty will be to perform your calculations so we can locate Andalor. Until that is done, all else is useless." The Professor nodded his assent. "Jourdain and Aldara - I think it would be beneficial for you to come up with an idea of who should travel through the vortex to find Andalor - one person, several, those who are most involved, or those who are not involved in any way. Be practical. All right?" The couple looked at each other. "Yes, all right," agreed Jourdain, somewhat reluctantly. "Reinald? I suggest that you and I start trying to see what spells and potions may be of use in the other world for the search party. But in the morning. We've done as much as we can tonight. Go to bed and get some rest. The next few days will be trying for all of us." - - - - - Jourdain cradled the sleeping form of his tiny daughter as he and his wife made their way down the staircases and hallways and out through the courtyard to the little cottage where Aldara had lived before their marriage. It was untraditional for a couple to dwell in a wife's former home, but little about their marriage was traditional. First, there was the question of species. Jourdain was human. Aldara was half human and half elf, and as such had never felt entirely comfortable in either culture. Although it was obviously possible for marriages between the species to take place, they were rare. Aldara had long since despaired of ever having a husband and family of her own. But suddenly in the darkest days of the Realm, when annihilation seemed to be their only future, the two warriors had discovered the unlikely love they shared - a love that made the following days of carnage both harder and easier to bear. Their marriage had taken place as part of the celebration for deliverance from the Dark creatures, witnessed by all the court and by the two strangers who had played such a vital role in saving the Realm. One of those strangers had become Aldara's best friend - in truth, her only friend at that time. It was from these strangers, the lovely russet haired warrior-healer and the tall powerful mage, that they had gotten the idea for an untraditional start to their life together - something they had called a "honeymoon". Such a thing was unheard of in the Realm, where weddings were formal affairs dictated by ritual and protocol, and even the couple's first intimacy was often witnessed by members of the family. The newly wedded pair traditionally stayed close to home under the watchful eyes of their elders. But neither Aldara nor Jourdain had any close family ties. And if the truth be told, the occasion of their first intimacy had passed some weeks before. So their marriage was already off to an untraditional start. After Mage Mulder and Dana had left, Aldara had been very saddened by the departure of her friend. Since she had always wanted to see the ocean and wanting to cheer her, Jourdain took his new wife on a long wedding trip to the coast. The Realm was in a state of disorder, with all the work of rebuilding to be done, but the couple holidayed with the blessings of Reinald Aldara was still convalescent from her injuries, and the Mage felt that their toil and sacrifice during the war should be rewarded. On their return, the question of accommodations arose. Jourdain had lived in the barracks with the other soldiers since the death of his first wife many years before. Building efforts were directed toward sheltering those made homeless by the invasion of the Dark Realm. Thus, the logical though untraditional solution was for Jourdain to move into Aldara's little cottage. It had suited the both of them so well that they stayed there, even when the resources became available for them to build a new dwelling. Since the birth of their daughter, the cottage had gotten a bit cramped, but neither wanted to leave the place that had grown to symbolize their union and that held so many memories. So they had built an addition on to the side of the cottage, a small bedchamber for themselves, and continued to live happily in the unassuming little structure which belied the powe r and position of those who dwelled inside. Aldara opened the door and Jourdain walked the length of the room to gently lay Daanna on her tiny bed in the corner. As her husband covered the child with a quilt, Aldara stooped to poke the ashes in the hearth, sighed, and started the process of building a new fire. Jourdain drew some water from the well outside and together they made tea. They sat heavily in the armchairs by the now-crackling fire, exhausted, but too upset to sleep. "Do you think he went to the other world to try to find Mulder?" asked Aldara. "He was as close to Mulder as I was to Dana." Aldara had missed Dana bitterly after she left, and had not given up hope until recently that somehow her friend would return to the Realm, at least to visit. "I don't know - maybe. Or maybe it came from his listening to all the Professor's damnfool stories about that other world," replied Jourdain gloomily. "He's an impressionable boy, and in spite of his position, he has not had an easy life. Actually, because of his position, I suppose. He lost his parents at a very early age, and his whole life has been spent preparing to be King. I've noticed lately he hasn't been happy, but I never thought he'd try anything as stupid as this." Aldara smiled. "And what were you like at his age, my love?" Jourdain grunted at the memory and then returned her smile. "I left home and joined a band of Protectors." Protector was the name given to members of the security squad which often travelled with caravans of traders who moved from village to village. Brigands were not unusual in certain areas of the Realm, and sizable carnivorous beasts inhabited the deeper forests. "I wanted adventure and I wanted to see the world. I never returned home." His smile vanished again. Nodding, Aldara said, "I know. I was not much older than he when I left home myself." They were silent for a few minutes. She yawned. "I know we should sleep, but I'm sure I'll just toss and turn. What do you think about the search party?" "I know that the Professor will have to be a part of it." Jourdain sighed. "You know I don't find him as charming and harmless as everyone else appears to, but only he knows that world. Assuming it's possible of course, that he doesn't have to remain here because of making the vortex or something. But his inclusion will give the team its best chance of success. Besides - the party may be able to get to the other world, but the possibility exists that they may not be able to get back to the Realm. At least the Professor will be in a world in which he belongs. Anyone else who accompanies him will not have that comfort," Jourdain finished grimly, looking over at his daughter who was stirring in her bed. He turned back and stared into the fire and was silent for a minute or two. "You know I'll have to go, don't you?" Aldara gazed into the fire, afraid to meet her husband's eyes. Quietly she said, "I know. I want so much to be at your side, but with Daanna...." She reached for his hand and simply held it for a few minutes. They had not had to face a separation from each other since the war. So deep were both of them in their own thoughts that they didn't notice their daughter's presence until she tugged on Jourdain's sleeve so that he would lift her up onto his lap. "Mama must go too, Papa." "What, poppet? Go where?" softly asked a surprised Jourdain. "Mama must go with you to find Prince Andalor." Aldara moved from her chair to sit on the hearthrug by the side of her husband's chair and took her daughter's hand. "But little one - Mama has to stay here to take care of you." Solemnly, Daanna shook her head, her eyes large and filled with tears. "No, Mama has to go, or something bad will happen." Jourdain turned the child slightly so he could look into her eyes. "Why, child? Do you have that funny feeling again?" He stroked her hair gently. "That funny feeling" was the expression they used for a power none of them understood. For the past six months or so, Daanna would occasionally have a strange sensation accompanied by an episode of precognition. Usually the vision of the future that the child had was of little consequence, but the important thing was that the episodes were completely accurate. The actual occurrence deviated in no way from the vision the child had described days or weeks earlier. Reinald himself had heard only legends about such a gift and was as much at a loss to explain it as he was her other gifts, but he believed in it implicitly. The little girl nodded. "It's too big to see everything and everybody. I don't like it - it's scary." Her voice quavered a little. "The vision can't hurt you, love. Be brave and tell Mama who else you see," Aldara comforted her daughter. She looked at Jourdain meaningfully. The child closed her eyes and began to name the people she saw in her vision. "The Prossesser and Reinald and Mama and Papa." Suddenly she grinned. "And Tarnor! And Prince Andalor and a girl." She frowned a little, looking puzzled. "And two other people, a man as tall as Papa and a lady. The lady has hair like fire. And some scary men doing bad things." She opened her eyes and looked at them. "Tarnor? Are you sure you see Tarnor?" questioned Jourdain. He had assumed that Corvay's instructions to be practical would mean that the rescue party would be composed entirely of humans, who would blend in more easily in the other world. "And you saw a tall man and a red-haired lady?" Aldara probed. Daanna nodded again. "Yes. Tarnor must be there. And there's a man and a lady." "Why does Tarnor have to be there?" She rubbed her eyes and shrugged sleepily. "I don't know. He just has to be." "Ah, well, come back to bed, poppet. No one's going anywhere for a while." Jourdain lifted the child to his shoulder and carried her to her bed, where he once again tucked her in. Strolling back to the fireplace, he gave Aldara his hand and helped her out of the chair. He stirred the fire, then, slipping his arm around his wife's waist, they walked slowly into their bedchamber. "Do you think that this is truly one of her visions?" Aldara asked. "It would appear so, beloved. I don't think that she would insist that you go unless she saw it in a vision. It will be very hard for her, with both of us away." "Jourdain, I'm so torn. I don't want to leave you, and I don't want to be away from Daanna. I believe in her visions - they've been correct so far. There must be a reason that I'm supposed to be there in the other world with you. And the man and the lady - Jourdain, am I mad or did it sound like it could be Mage Mulder and Dana? Oh, it would be so good to see them again! But goddess - what if we couldn't get back? What if we were trapped in the other world and couldn't get home to our little girl?" "Don't worry, Aldara. We'll talk to Reinald and Corvay about this. For now, try to forget about it and get some rest." "Forget about it? How can I forget about it? Oh!" Aldara broke off abruptly as her husband began to nibble on her highly sensitive ears. She smiled. End of Chapter Two =========================================================================== Chapter Three Part A The heavy metallic blades of their swords met and clung, then slid apart in an elaborate dance of parry and thrust. Mulder danced aside, the rush of air split by Scully's sword stinging his sweaty skin. He spun around, bringing his own blade down, then up again, both hands clasped tightly on the hilt, nerves and muscles jerking under the strain of the collision as the blades struck in mid-air. Scully gasped in response, the weight of her weapon pulling her around to follow, as her attack was deflected by her partner's strength. In the second it took her to break the sideward motion, Mulder broke his own swing and angled his blade down to tap her on the butt. "Got you!" he crowed, breaking into a delighted grin even as he leapt backwards to avoid her response. She brought her blade back around and turned on her toes to face him, her face a study in concentration. Hand-over-hand on the hilt, she set the sword in motion, slicing through the air in a rapid pattern of swirls and loops. Mulder lost his grin as she advanced on him with certain determination, bringing his own sword back up into a suddenly defensive posture. Slowly, she pushed him backwards, the church-bell-like chiming of metal hitting metal filling the air. He deflected blow after blow, his wrists aching as he twisted the sword down, then up, then side and down, then up again and again. But she was relentless, and with one last fury of motion, she finally slipped the blade underneath his guard and poked his chest with the point of the blade. "Ouch!" he jumped backwards, swinging his own weapon up under hers, so that the flat of the blade struck her wrists hard. The jolt caused her hands to loosen on the sword and it tumbled to the ground. But at the same moment, his momentum carried him backwards, the sword rising up to point at the ceiling while his heels slid forward and toppled backwards to land on his back. Scully collapsed to her knees, drawing in sharp breaths, while he swore viciously, his arms still outstretched upwards into mid-air holding the sword. Despite herself, Scully found the sight of him amusing, and she began to smile. Lowering the weapon to his side, he propped himself up onto the other elbow and glared at her. Which only made her laugh. "It's not funny!" he told her. She pressed her hand to her mouth as though to stifle her mirth, but only broke out into a fresh spate of giggles. He frowned deeply, thrusting out his lower lip. "Dammit, I would have won that time!" She took a deep breath, held it and then released it with an audible sigh. Then she smiled and reached out to pick up her sword. "I think we can safely call it a tie." He grumbled under his breath for a moment, then pushed himself up into a sitting position. "One of these days I AM going to beat you." "Probably," she agreed equably, rising to her feet. "But lets call it quits for today, I want to get some stuff cleaned out at the office before we start our vacation." Mulder shrugged, figuring that he'd gotten the best he was going to get out of his near-victory, and drew himself to his feet. Retrieving his sword he followed her over the bench where they had left the scabbards and a set of towels. Out of well-trained habit, they cleaned off the swords and put them in their holders before rubbing the sweat off their faces. "I don't like being forced onto vacation like this. First we're pulled off our own casework and sent to Pittsburgh, then we're ordered to take time off. I keep wondering if we missed something important on the cases we were looking into recently, something that would make the powers-that-be want to distract us." "Don't you think you're being a little paranoid? After all, we haven't taken a vacation in over a year - at least by Bureau knowledge. Our trip to the Realm effectively never occurred by this world's timeline, so it's not unreasonable for Skinner to insist we take some time off. It IS Bureau policy to have agents take regular rest periods, in order to avoid burn-out." "Maybe," Mulder replied. "But I just have a feeling that we're missing something. Like something is going to happen." He stared at the wall, his eyes losing their focus - or perhaps gaining it, though the target of the focus appeared to be thin air. Scully had seen that look often enough to know she ought to take it seriously, but she had begun to look forward to their vacation time. "Mulder!" she exclaimed, her voice rising into a shout at the end of his name as he suddenly collapsed forward onto his knees. Tossing her towel onto the bench, she squatted down beside him, reaching out to hold his shoulders as his head drooped down towards the floor. One arm tight around his back, she reached with the other to support his forehead, anxiously feeling for the temperature of his skin. He FELT cool enough, but his breath was coming in quick rasps, and his muscles seemed to have become fluid, unable to carry his weight. She drew him down into her lap, turning him so that the back of his head rested against her bent knees. "Mulder!?" she repeated urgently, deftly checking first his pulse, and then his eyes. His heartbeat was steady, but his irises were nearly swallowed by his pupils, their color almost pitch-black. He stared straight up through her, the eyelids slipping back down over his eyes the moment she released them. Looking swiftly around the empty gym, she lowered him gently to the floor, planning to go call for an ambulance. However, before she could get back up to her feet, he suddenly jerked upwards and seized hold of her arm. "Scully!" he shouted. Instantly, she was back down at his side, reaching out to hold him. He braced himself against her, his eyes now open and darting around the room as if surprised to find himself there. "Take it easy," she urged, trying to push him back down. "No, ..." he protested. "I...We...have to... We have to..." He blinked, then stared up at her in utter confusion. "We have to...?" "What?" "I...I don't remember!" He rubbed at his eyes, then looked around him again, frowning deeply. "There was something..." He shook his head, then gazed at her with lost eyes. "I can't remember!" - - - - - Tumbling, falling, head-over-heels. Andalor clutched his precious bag of supplies against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to fight the nausea. His stomach cramped into a tight knot, his head reverberated with the nearly deafening whine, while his body was pummeled with gale-force gusts of wind. Rolling up into a fetal position with his sack between his chest and his knees, he floated and spun within the Vortex, falling first one way and then another, and then... A brilliant burst of light broke through his clamped eyelids, creating a rainbow of wavering spots across his vision. He jerked, lowering his head away from the source, barely a heartbeat before he was struck on the shoulder by something big and heavy, yet soft and yielding. Crying out in surprise, he reached out with one hand to push it away, not daring to look up to see it. Pushing against the unseen object sent him flying sideways, only to be picked up by another stream of force, and propelled back towards it, this time feet first. His feet collided with 'something,' then his shoulder, and he was suddenly dropped straight down. Falling, falling, suddenly under the familiar weight of gravity, Andalor managed to right himself so that he was going down feet first, knees bent for impact. Even so, the jolt was bone-shattering when it came, his feet, then his knees, then the knuckles of his hands striking against a hard, cold, and very solid surface. Moaning, Andalor followed his momentum over until his forehead struck the floor and then his stomach finally gave way. When the convulsive heaving finally ended, Andalor rolled over onto his side, and finally let one eyelid slowly slide open. Things were hazy at first, his ears gradually registering a volume of sound, voices shouting half-familiar words underneath a blaring whine, the screech of heavy objects being dragged along an unforgiving surface, and a strange buzzing much like an angered nest of flower-bees. His unfocused eyes were met with a similar cacophony of color and shape, the figures of men dressed in white, flashing brilliant yellow lights like miniature suns, the cold gray surface on which he lay, and... a sprawling, red-stained heap just beyond his hands. Just as he brought that object into focus, a pair of arms seized his shoulders and yanked him backwards. As he went sprawling onto his back, that image clarified in front of his shocked mind. It was a man, and he was very, very dead, his chest shattered into a mass of blood and spilled organs. As that recognition faded into the grim countenance of the man still holding him down, Andalor took a deep breath and screamed. - - - - - "Mulder, will you please at least SIT DOWN!" Scully glared at her partner with a mix of relief, worry and utter exasperation. "In a minute," he replied absently, as he continued to pace the length of their office, barely missing the corners of the desk and the file cabinets on each pass. His rapidly washed hair was standing on end in the back, the bangs a loose curtain over his forehead. The polka-dotted tie worn loose around his neck was hanging at an impossible angle while his shirt-sleeves hanging unevenly around his elbows. Scully felt a rush of affection, followed by another shot of irritation. "SIT DOWN!" Coming to an instant halt, he turned to face her with a look of total confusion on his face. "What?" he asked, his voice fading out as he took in her stance, hands pressed firmly into her hips. The decision to do what she said was not a hard one - that look in her eyes was the one that usually meant he was either in trouble or about to given a shot. He didn't like the idea of either. Giving her his best innocent look, he scurried over to his chair, sat down, and propped his feet up on the corner of his desk. Folding his hands in his lap, he leaned back and treated her to the full effect of his wide-eyed, green-tinged gaze. Scully sighed, frowning. "I still think you ought to see a doctor." "I AM seeing a doctor," he responded, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. She shook her head. "Mulder..." "I'm FINE." She threw him her patented look of total disbelief, causing him to lean forward in his chair. "Really. Look, I was probably just tired. I drank a lot of wine last night, and didn't get too much sleep. Add in our practice fight on an empty stomach and it's no wonder I got a little dizzy." Scully held the look of disbelief, but found it difficult to argue any more. "OK..." At the look of relief on his face, she lifted her hand up. "For NOW. Just promise me you'll take it easy." He nodded, she waved her hand again, then pointed her index finger straight at him. "And, you tell me the instant you feel any dizziness at all." "Sure," he said. She glared at him. He shrugged. "I will. I promise. OK, Doctor Scully." Her eyes made it clear he'd better keep his word. - - - - - The man in the strange clothes was clearly getting angry. Andalor sat tall in his chair, his jaw jutted forward defiantly. The sense of shame over his cowardly reaction to the dead body still haunted him. Screaming like an elven maid at the sight of a frog - it was embarrassing! He reassured himself with the thought that is was surely just a reaction to the fall through the Vortex, and it would not happen again. After all, he was Prince Andalor, heir to Fairwoods Demesne, interworld traveler, and adventurer... "Where did you come from?" The man in the odd dark clothes interrupted the teenager's thoughts, leaning down to bore into his eyes with a cold blue gaze. Andalor stared back, tightening his lips in defiance. "Answer me!" Andalor stayed mute. The man sighed with exasperation and began to circle around the seated boy. "Look, kid," the man tried again. "No one is going to hurt you, we just need to know how you got in the middle of our..unh...work. Tell us who you are and where you came from, and we can send you home." Andalor didn't believe a word of it, for all his strangeness, this man reminded him too much of his now-imprisoned Uncle Drellor. They both had the same tone of voice, the same pomposity and ego, the same slickness - reminiscent of the skin of a water-lizard. Andalor didn't bother replying, or even following the man's movements with his eyes. Instead he focused on the room, the smoothness of the surfaces, the mage-lights that glowed behind glass-like panels in the ceiling, the round turning knob in place of the door-latch. His fingers itched to explore everything he could see - it was hard to stay put. He needed to get out of this place and find Mulder and Scully. Before the irritated man could ask another question, the door opened and a woman came in. She was dressed in a long white robe that was open in the front to reveal an extremely short skirt. Andalor's eyes widened at the sight of her bare legs - he'd never seen so much of anyone's legs before, especially not a woman's. She was obviously quite old, almost as old as Jourdain, but the her skin was smooth and white. He was too busy staring at her calves to notice what she was doing until after she had roughly forced his loose linen sleeve up his arm. Her hands moved swiftly, then suddenly a sharp pain erupted in the center of his right elbow. "OUCH!" he yelled, yanking his arm away from her. She was holding something that looked like a sewing needle attached to a clear cylinder. He glared at it, then at her, but she had already turned to the other man. "Hold him still, will you. I need a blood sample." The words were understandable, though his uncertain grasp of the meaning did not make the Prince any happier. Nor did the sudden grasp of iron hands on his shoulder and forearm. "Let me go!" he demanded in his best royal voice. It was ignored, as he felt again the stabbing pain of the needle piercing his skin. He struggled as best he could, but was unable to dislodge himself from the man's hands. Soon, though, the needle was withdrawn, the small cylinder full of a red liquid Andalor knew was his blood. His eyes were wide as he stared at it, his breath coming in short gasps. Suddenly the room that had seemed so big started to close in on him. His gaze darted from one unsmiling face to another, coming to the realization that these people could only mean him harm. His first instinct was to run to the door and cry for help, but he stifled it. Drawing his back up straight, he threw in his trump card. "I'm a friend of Mage Mulder, and he's going to see you pay for this!" Both pairs of eyes turned to stare at him in surprise. Then the man jumped around to face Andalor. "Mulder! Fox Mulder?" Andalor smiled easily, he knew that the name of such a powerful magician would garner respect. "Yes, so you'd better let me go." The man's small blue eyes narrowed into pinpoints under threatening brows. "How do you know Mulder?" "We're old friends," Andalor replied proudly. "And he sent you here to spy on us?" the man spoke doubtfully. Andalor shook his head. "No, the spell that brought me here must have gotten mixed up with yours by accident." "Spell?" The man shook his head, then stared at the ceiling for a moment. Then in a very patient voice, he asked, "How much does Mulder know?" "Everything!" Andalor replied with total certainty, though he wasn't quite sure what the man was asking about. But he felt it was a safe bet that Mage Mulder knew everything important. The woman smiled bitterly, the expression clearly not one of joy. "So much for your security measures, Gordan." She received a cold glare in response. "Don't you have work to do, 'Doctor' Mather?" She inclined her head almost contemptuously, picked up her equipment and left the room. The man named Gordan turned back to the boy. "So are you telling me that Mulder knows about our work here and sent you - a teenage boy - to investigate for him?" His voice dripped sarcasm. Andalor frowned, something was definitely wrong, though he wasn't sure what. "No, I'm on my way to visit Mulder, and got mixed up in your magic somehow. If you let me go now, I'm sure he'll forgive you for holding me up." "Forgive us? Magic?!" For an instant Andalor thought Gordan was going to strike him, but instead he leaned in close to the boy. "Look I don't know what kind of game you and Mulder think you are playing, but it won't work. This project is under strict need-to-know protection for national security reasons, and we will not tolerate interference or exposure, especially by 'Spooky' Mulder. He's stuck his nose in where it doesn't belong one time too many!" The contempt and hostility that Gordan felt for Mulder struck Andalor harder than any physical blow could have. He reeled under it, as he was struck by the accompanying realization that he had fallen into the hands of Mulder's enemies. Black magicians! The thought made him feel sick inside, he had heard horror stories about the terrible things evil mages did to their victims. And they already had some of his blood! They could be casting some nightmarish spell right now!!!! Fear striking through him, he cast his eyes around the room, desperately seeking an escape route, but there was none. Closing his eyes and ignoring Gordan's ranting demands for answers, Andalor reached down deep into his eidetic memory, looking for a way to call for help. Surely Reinald had taught him a spell that he could use to contact Mulder and warn him. Ah...YES! Taking in several deep breaths, Andalor began to softly mumble the words of the magic chant, his mind focusing on his last remembered image of Mulder's face. - - - - - Scully tapped once more on her keyboard, then leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. Stifling a yawn, she looked over at Mulder who was holding a set of file folders in his hands, paging from one to another, staring at the contents like a child regarding the ice cream counter at Baskin Robbins. His eyes were bright, the green tint nearly obscuring the brown, and his mouth trembled with barely concealed excitement. The sudden memory of him looking at her like that caused an almost electric tingle to race along her groin. Easing herself out of her chair, she got to her feet and walked around behind him. He didn't notice her until she took a firm grasp on the file folders and yanked them out of his grasp. "What? Scully!" he protested, reaching out to grab for the files. "Unh uh," she told him, dropping the files on the desk and neatly inserting herself between it and him. He bumped right up into her, so that her hips were pressed against his thighs, her face against his chest. She nuzzled into him even as she fought to keep him from retrieving up the files. They struggled for a moment, Mulder leaning side-to-side to get around her, Scully continuously batting his hands away from the desk. He growled in frustration even as she grabbed the nearest hand and drew it to her mouth. "Ouch!" he yelled as she bit into the flesh of his palm. The corners of her mouth curved upwards as her tongue flicked out between red lips to lick at the spot she had bitten. THIS got his full attention. //Dana?\\ he sent, his eyes widening. She suckled on the edge of his palm, then pressed his hand down against her chest. //We are taking a vacation,\\ she told him firmly. //No X-Files, no monsters or dead bodies, no aliens, no woods, no weird diseases, no anything except you and me and a nice big, clean bed and a hot running shower. I don't care if we don't leave my apartment for two weeks or go to Hawaii - but NO MORE WORK!\\ By the time she had finished communicating that demand, his hands were already occupied with exploring the familiar lush curves of her body, and his mouth was nibbling at her forehead, drifting slowly downwards. "Ummm hmmm," he managed to get out just before he claimed her mouth. She felt the shock of that kiss from head to toe, the strength of her desire for this contrary man surprising her yet again. Leaning upwards, she met his passion with hers, until they were both gasping for breath. He paused for a moment, one long-fingered hand sliding upwards to cup her chin. Tenderly, he traced her jawline, then ran the tips of his fingers though the hair curling in the hollow of her neck. Then, meeting her eyes directly, he took in a deep breath, darted his eyes from her face to the haphazard pile of files, and back to her face. Finally, he nodded and whispered - "Okay." ----------------------- end Chpt 3 Part A ----------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter 3 Part B Even despite his agreement to forgo work for the two weeks of their vacation, Mulder still managed to drag a couple of the ongoing case files home with them. He swore he just wanted to do some info-gathering via the internet, so that they would be up-to-date when they returned. Scully shot him a daggered look, full of warning. He grinned unabashedly, and sneaked a kiss before they got in the car to leave FBI headquarters. The drive went as smoothly as maneuvering through rush hour traffic ever does, until they were about a block from Scully's apartment. Scully was absentmindedly staring out the window of the car, when it suddenly veered sharply to the left. "Mulder!!!" she cried, as the car swung sideways across the other lane of traffic. Tires screeched and a car horn blared as the oncoming car jerked to a stop, only inches from their car as it rolled towards the opposite sidewalk. Scully grabbed for the wheel with one hand and Mulder with the other, screaming his name at the top of her lungs. He was senseless, his head jerking forward over the steering wheel, his body slumping against her. //MULDER!\\ she cried into his head as the car careened up onto the sidewalk, then slid sideways yet again. It was sheer luck that they had been going less than twenty miles per hour when he lost control, making the final collision with a telephone pole uncomfortable, but not life-threatening. Nonetheless, Scully was in a near state of panic afterwards as she cradled the unconscious Mulder in her arms. Her terror warred with her professional training, until she was finally able to switch fully into her "doctor" mode. Shutting the car's engine off with a quick twist of the keys, she struggled to get a better hold on Mulder. 'Dammit,' she swore aloud as she tried to rest him back against his seat, why did the man have to be so damn big? Just as abruptly as he had collapsed, Mulder jerked in her arms, nearly striking his head against the steering wheel. His eyes were fully dilated, black orbs that stared into thin air with frightening intensity. She held tightly to his arms, trying to settle him down, but his hands were already moving. Clawing at his throat, he yanked his tie off his neck, then ripped open his shirt. Buttons went flying as he tore at the thin linen, opening it half-way down his chest. Nestled into the hollow of his throat, the miniature oracle cloud was glowing a bright yellow-orange, sending out throbbing waves of light. Mulder closed a hand around it, then let go with a shriek of pain. He groaned again, and tried to grab at the chain wrenching it away from his skin. But the flashing crystal hit the edge of his palm and he dropped it with a sobbing whimper. "Get it off, get it off, get it off..." Confused and frightened, Scully couldn't help responding to the urgency in his voice. Lifting one hand off his elbow, she took hold of the shimmering jewel. It was hot to the touch, but hardly unbearable. She closed her hand around it, preventing any further contact with his skin and he subsided in response, a muttering groan escaping his clamped lips. As he leaned his head back against the head-rest of the driver's seat, she reached her free hand under his neck and found the clasp of the chain. It took a few long minutes to release the clasp with the fumbling fingers of one hand, but it finally came loose. She removed the entire necklace from his body, and turned in her seat to hold it cradled in two hands. The crystal was still warm to the touch, sending off faint pulses of light, but the further she took it away from Mulder, the dimmer and cooler it became. Quickly, she deposited it into her coat pocket, then looked back over at her partner. He was leaning back in the seat, eyes focused on the ceiling, one hand pressed into the hollow of his throat. His breath came in deep, rasping gasps, his lungs filling then releasing in a whistling rush. His chest heaved, and she could almost see the pulse throbbing in his temples. "Mulder?" she reached out to touch him gently, trying to pull his hand down from his chest. Her blue eyes widened in shock as she took in the reddened, already blistering areas of skin on the center of his chest and along the inside of his right palm. He didn't notice her at first, then swiftly angled his head down to look at her. Their eyes melded, her hand closed around his wrist, and she felt herself drawn into the whirlwind of his mind. Her pulse raced, her stomach turned over, a sudden deep aching lassitude struck her. Her hand turned hot on his wrist, his skin felt like it was burning under her palm. "Scully..." he whispered though clenched teeth, unable to remove his wrist from her burning grip. She gave a moaning cry, slumping forward into his arms, never releasing her death grip on his arm. his other arm moved swiftly around her, to support her, his entire body forming a cup to hold her. The sudden flare of heat between their skins faded, and she closed her eyes and let him support her. Mulder curled around her as best as the close confines of the car seat would let him, nuzzling his face into her hair. Dazed, he had little comprehension of what had just happened, and he hardly had the energy to do more than breath. They rested together for a tiny eternity, until a loud sound broke through the silence. Mulder somehow found the strength to turn his head around to stare out the side-window. There, a vision of summer sunshine shimmering off of metal decorations in a sea of blue, was a city police officer. The increasingly loud noise was the insistent clamor of knuckles on glass. Mulder closed his eyes as pain lanced through his temple - and groaned aloud. - - - - - Andalor's feet dragged along the smooth floor as he was half-carried down the long empty hallway. His captors were both twice his size, big men in gray clothes with shiny decorations and heavy belts from which hung strange objects. Andalor didn't know what they were, and wasn't sure he wanted to find out. His feet fought for purchase on the slick surface, but his leather boots kept slipping and sliding beneath him, while his arms felt like they were about to slip out of his shoulders. The men's huge, meaty hands were like iron clasps around his upper arms, and they dragged him between them like an unwieldy sack of flour. He wanted to yell at them to put him down, but he didn't think they would listen any better than the black magician Gordan had. As soon as Andalor had realized that he was being held by Mulder's enemies, he had clamped up tight again. He told himself it was because he did not want to betray anything to the Good Mage's enemies, but a little part of him knew it was more out of simple terror. He had expected almost anything out of the trip though the Vortex, except falling into the hands of powerful black magicians. He knew they were powerful because of the profligate use of magic spells throughout this strange fortress. They even lit all the rooms with mage lights, and operated the doors with them. Andalor had heard that black Mages could drain power from the blood of their victims, which must be what they were planning to do with the blood they had stolen from him. If that weren't bad enough, his one attempt to reach Mulder to warn him had obviously failed, leaving the boy perilously close to tears. The two servants dragged him around a corner, then pulled to a stop in front of a large metallic door. Andalor couldn't quite identify the substance, but it looked extremely strong. One man touched an object on the wall beside the door, pressing little white squares that seemed to give way to the force of his finger tips, emitting loud squeaks. After several of the beeps, a louder buzz sounded and the door began to open with a loud click. The man on Andalor's left used his free hand to pull the door open, then together they threw him inside. Andalor tumbled forward, barely clamping down on a shriek of surprise that turned into a groan when he hit what felt like polished stone with the entire front length of his body. A loud bang behind him, extinguishing all of the light. Laying prone on the ground, he was plunged into utter darkness. Scrape, shuffle, scrape, the sounds of movement broke into the silence - he was NOT alone. Scrambling up into a kneeling crouch, Andalor strained to see anything in the blackness, but his eyes met with nothing. "Whoooo's there?" He was embarrassed to hear his voice come out in a squeaky whisper. "Who are you?" a voice out of the darkness challenged in return. Andalor's racing heartbeat slowed at the sound. It was obviously young and female. He straightened up his head and replied proudly, "I am Prince Andalor." "Prince?" Her voice was caustic, disbelieving. Andalor frowned unseen, rising to his feet. He carefully stepped closer to her. "Who are you," he demanded again. "Shannon," the answer finally came, followed by the sound of more movement. There was a pair of sharp clicks, then a suddenl burst of light. Andalor shielded his eyes with a gasp of surprise, then slowly lowered his arm. Facing him was a girl of about his own age, although her dress and ornamentation was strange enough to do a troll proud. She wore some kind of black material that reminded him of leather, and it molded so tightly to her body that he wondered how she had gotten it on. Draped over that was a bright, multi-colored shawl and an excess of jewelry, silver, gold, and copper strands decorating her neck, wrists, ankles, and dangling from her ears. Andalor met her clear amber gaze straight on, memorizing her face. It had an almost elven cast to it, sharp cheekbones, high forehead, full mouth. Her ebony black hair was pulled straight back from her face to fall in a long braid down over her shoulder. She was even thinner than he was, and her stance was poised and ready. She returned his scrutiny, her eyes tracing him with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. Finally she spoke. "So where'd they pick you up?" she asked. "The latest Renaissance fair or something?" Again Andalor was unhappy to find that his supposedly excellent understanding of this language had serious holes in it. "No," he replied with his best regal calm. "Their spell got mixed up with the one bringing me to this world and pulled me here." At this she broke out laughing. Andalor pursed his lips, then tried to ignore her laughter. Turning his back, he studied the room. It was small and rectangular, the door filling one short wall with seamless metal. Obviously, the only way to open it was from the outside. There was a pair of small beds, each pressed up against a long wall, and a small table between them against the far wall. On that table was the source of light, an object that had some similarity to an oil lamp, though it, too, was obviously magic-powered. There was a pair of small cabinets at the ends of the beds, the one on the right with some clothes and books strewn over it. Figuring that one was hers, he moved over to the other bed and sat down on the edge of it gingerly. The bed creaked under his weight, the lumpy bedding shifting beneath him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and glared at his still giggling companion. "I don't see what you have to laugh about," he told her. "Seems to me that you are as much a prisoner here as I am." That did shut her up, her mouth closed into a thin line and she sat down on the bed facing him, her dark brows thunderous over her honey-colored eyes. "Maybe, but not for long!" she responded defiantly. He arched a golden eyebrow at her, mimicking a gesture he had always associated with Healer-Warrior Scully. "They won't hold me for long!" she yelled, getting up and running towards the door. Her foot collided with the metal with a resounding thud, then she fell backwards to land on the floor. It was Andalor's turn to laugh, and he took full advantage of it. She turned around and scowled fiercely at him. "I don't see you, Mr. 'Prince Andalor' coming up with any bright ideas on how to get out of here." Andalor scowled back. "I'll think of something." They both turned and stared at the uncompromising door with equally frustrated expressions. - - - - - - Mulder swiveled on the couch, his gaze returning as it often had that evening to the bedroom door behind which sat his miniature oracle crystal. He had tried once more to touch it after Scully and he had finally gotten free of the local police, and it had again blazed up with both light and heat. It was okay when Scully touched it, hot, but not unbearable, the light fading to softer pulses. So she had secreted it in her jewelry box, safe and out of sight. But Mulder couldn't help thinking about it, his mind running in circles. "Stop that," Scully's voice demanded as he felt the couch shift to accept her weight beside him. "Stop what?" He followed her pointed gaze to find himself rubbing his hand over the spot on his chest where the orb had hung. The spot that had been burned by the heat from the crystal, but was now smooth and undamaged. He pulled his hand away, and turned to face her. She reached out to take his arm, automatically checking his pulse. With a sudden burst of irritation, he yanked his arm free of her grasp. "I'm fine," he said. She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, right. You collapse twice in one day, causing a car accident. and you suffered second degree burns, but sure - you're fine." She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "YOU healed the burns," he reminded her, not that she really needed reminding. The effects of that use of psychic energy was still sapping her strength, leaving her feeling weak and exhausted. Yet, the worst was the sense of being out of control. She had hardly planned on doing the healing - in fact, she had thought that she couldn't do it at all. She had learned to accept that things were a certain way in the Realm, that she and Mulder had special abilities - THERE. But those talents ranged from limited to non-existent in this world, the REAL world, and she was more than content to leave it that way. Mulder, of course, was never content to leave anything alone, and he could drive her crazy with his insistence on pushing the barriers of the possible. "I know," she told him abruptly. "But that still doesn't explain what happened to you." He bit at his lower lip in concentration, then rubbed at his chin in an utterly characteristic gesture. "I've been thinking about that. I think...I think that my use of magic against the Pittsburgh Rapist must have triggered it somehow, or altered the spell on it in some way. I'm not even completely sure what kind of spell Reinald put on it in the first place, and going through the Vortex, combined with the weakened and different state of magical energy in this dimension, might have affected it so that my first serious use of magic here damaged it." He frowned, not happy with the consequences of that possibility. The crystal was their only remaining link with the Realm, and its presence had been a comfort - a guarantee that 'someday' they might see their friends again. Scully saw the worry in his eyes, and reached out instinctively to comfort him. "We're both exhausted. There's no use worrying about it now. Let's get some sleep, and talk about it in the morning." She didn't like the shadows under his eyes or the drawn cast to his face. Promising herself she would get him to a doctor the next day no matter how hard he argued against it, she urged him into the bedroom. He went willingly enough - even if he wouldn't admit it aloud, he was extremely tired. At this moment, settling into bed with the woman he loved in his arms was all he that he could concentrate on. But once his head hit the pillow, with Scully laying against his side, he felt a sudden surge of energy. As she ever so gently smoothed the silken locks of dark hair off his forehead then leaned down to kiss him on the lips, his arms tightened reflexively around her, pulling her down into his embrace. He tenderly lifted her chin upwards and captured her lips with his. "Mmmmm," she murmered against his deepening kiss, her mouth parting to breath in the taste of his. //I thought we were going to get some sleep?\\ she chided softly. //We will....just not quite yet...\\ Her laughter echoed in his mind, as her tongue darted up between his teeth, returning his caresses, teasing the depths of his mouth in swift, sure strokes. Pushing one knee up, he deftly lowered her onto her back and settled his weight upon her. She rested back against the mattress, twining her arms around his shoulders to draw him even closer. They made love gently, tenderly, letting the now familiar passion swell slowly. Mulder drew in the taste of her skin, savoring each soft, textured inch. He felt like he could spend an eternity exploring her, and still find new delights at every turn. He traced the lush, well-defined curves of her body with loving fingers and questing tongue, feeling each sensation, as he caused it, echo from her mind to his, and then back again. Never could he have imagined what it could be like to make love with a woman who shared his mind, whose every thoughts were his, who knew every crevice of his soul as intimately as she knew every part of his body. Dipping his tongue into the honeyed flesh between her legs, his groin convulsed with the strength of her pleasure, and when he lowered his throbbing manhood into the welcoming depths of her body, they - together - felt the whole world shatter and then come whole again - reformed in the image of their love. - - - - - Scully was dreaming. Her auburn head tossed and turned on Mulder's shoulder as the images flashed in front of her eyes. The Realm, castle and woods; their friends, Reinald and Aldara and Jourdain. Then Andalor, first alive and laughing, a golden haired child, then frozen into a stone statue. There was something evil hovering over that fair head, something dark and deadly. Scully cried out, stretching out her hand... And woke up. Sitting up in bed, she rubbed at her eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of imminent danger pressing in on her senses. I need this vacation more than I had thought, she told herself with a shaky laugh. Settling back down against Mulder's side, she drank in the warmth of his body and the pleasure of his nearness. His face was relaxed and innocent in its slumber, the lines smoothed out of his skin. She nuzzled her face against the side of his chest, enjoying the musky familiar scent of his body, then closed her eyes and slowly fell back to sleep. Again, she was inundated by the images of the Realm. First a replay of memories, then the abrupt change into fear and unease. Aldara and Jourdain's voices called out her name, their faces were beseeching, but distant, lost in a heavy fog. She almost - almost - touched Aldara's hand, then lost her. Reinald was next, falling close to her, then tumbling away, his deep voice crying her name over and over.... "Reinald!!!!" Scully screamed, jolting up to a sitting position. Her cry woke Mulder up and he reached for her. "What's wrong?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her. She shivered and leaned back into his embrace. "Just a nightmare," she whispered against his chest. "You called Reinald's name?" Mulder questioned against her hair, between kisses dropped onto the thick red strands. She nodded against him. "Yes, he, they all, were calling out to me. They needed my help, but I couldn't reach them. They were so far away..." "I know, love, I know. But it's okay. It was just..." Mulder's voice trailed off, and he stared out across the room. Scully lifted her head to look up at him. "Mulder?" she asked. "Mulder!" He shook his head, then focused down at her. "I think... Scully, where did you put that oracle cloud?" "In the box on the dresser, why?" "What if Reinald really is trying to communicate with me? That would explain everything, the dizzy spells, why the oracle cloud is responding so strongly." Mulder's body suddenly shook, and his eyes began to waver. He fell back against the pillows, releasing Scully who kneeled over him, her face taut with concern. "Get the crystal, Scully...hurry!" he rasped. She hesitated for an instant, then slid off the bed to retrieve the miniature oracle cloud. Light burst out of the box when she opened it, the crystal almost too hot for her to hold. She lifted it by the chain and ran back to the bed. When she was beside him with the crystal, Mulder grabbed it out of her hand, yelping aloud with the pain of the contact. It flared in his grasp, filling the entire room with a flash of light. Shielding her eyes, Scully winced, then stared in astonishment as the light faded into a small glowing image. And saw a very familiar face. End Chapter Three =========================================================================== Chapter Four Part A The Professor was hunched over his table as he had been for the previous nineteen hours. The parchments in front of him were black with the ink of his figures and formulae. Wearily, he lay the pen down and stretched back in his chair. He would have to check his work for accuracy, of course, but he believed he now knew where and when Andalor had emerged from the vortex. At the insistent rap, Neumann rose stiffly from his chair and crossed the carpeted stone floor of his bedchamber to the door. "Ah, Tarnor, you've returned. Please, enter." The Professor swung the door wide to allow the little gargoyle, blue cloak folded over his arm, to pass through. The two walked to the hearth, where the exhausted scientist poured out tea for himself and Tarnor as dictated by the etiquette of the land. Then they took their seats in the deeply cushioned armchairs. "I trust your journey was pleasant," Neumann began politely. The gargoyle looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Professor - what in the name of the gods has been going on? Reinald is closeted in Corvay's workroom and has left orders not to be disturbed, the countryside is rife with rumors, and when I saw Jourdain and Aldara just now, they looked terribly upset and said to go talk to you. What is going on around here?" Tarnor demanded. He had been a fully trained mage for quite a long time now, and had been in another part of the Realm for many weeks, visiting village mages and speaking to villagers to ensure that the mages were using their powers appropriately. There were a few whom he needed to discuss with Reinald. In the process of gathering evidence to support Reinald in his trial after the spell cast on Andalor years before, the existence of many corrupt and evil mages had been uncovered. Tarnor had been able to devise a spell that, under certain circumstances, could divest such a mage of his abilities. His vocation for the last several years had been to travel throughout the Realm, seeking out the corrupt mages. When found, their powers would be stripped from them by means of Tarnor's spell, or they would be exiled if his spell was not wholly effective. But now his attention was diverted - he had been shaken by what he discovered upon his return to Fairwoods Keep. Neumann sighed and brought him up to date with Andalor's disappearance. "I've finished the calculations - there's a 97.4% chance that my figures are accurate and that I have been able to pinpoint the date and place that Andalor came out of the vortex. Try as I might, I simply can't get any closer. But I'm afraid that I have discovered a small problem." The Professor drained the last of the tea from his cup and rose from the deep armchair. "The plan was for us all to meet when my calculations were complete. Let's go let Reinald know and gather the troops." The pair met Aldara and Jourdain, now accompanied by Daanna, in the corridor. The little girl squealed with delight and jumped into Tarnor's arms. The two had always had a special affinity for each other, and now the child rode in her accustomed spot on Tarnor's broad shoulders. Together they went to Reinald's chamber and sent Pitir to fetch his master. Within a few minutes, the Mage and the healer arrived. Tea was served and they all sat down. "I assume that since we are all gathered here that you have finished your calculations, Professor," said Reinald. "Everybody else ready with their part of the plan?" There were affirmative nods all around. "All right, Professor - you start." Professor Neumann looked around at those assembled. There were dark circles under his eyes and though normally gaunt, he looked absolutely haggard with fatigue. "I know where Andalor arrived to within a few kilometers, and when he arrived to within a few days." There were pleased exclamations from Aldara and Reinald, nods from Tarnor and Jourdain. Corvay looked at the scientist shrewdly. "But..." The Professor smiled wryly at him. "There's always a 'but', isn't there?" His expression sobered and he sighed. "In calculating where Andalor emerged from the vortex, I discovered a little 'glitch in the program', as we say in my world. It appears that I can direct with almost 100 percent accuracy EITHER the time OR the place of arrival, but not both at the same time. Andalor arrived at almost the same place that I was planning to send the goat, but nowhere near the same time. Even allowing for the difference between the goat's mass and Andalor's doesn't explain the error. I'm sure I'll find a way to control them both simultaneously at some point. If I were in my own world with my equipment, I think I could do it. But right now time is of the essence, and presently I do not have the ability to do both." "What does that mean in terms of the rescue team?" questioned Jourdain. Even without this new problem, finding Andalor seemed to be an insurmountable task. "Well, it means that if we send a rescue team, we can choose either the place of their arrival or the time. But only one with any real accuracy." "How inaccurate is the option not taken likely to be?" Jourdain asked. "If we choose arriving at the right time as a priority, as I believe we must, will we emerge in a different world, possibly even the Dark Realm?" Emphatically the Professor shook his head. "No, that particular door is closed forever, I sealed that before I even left my world. I agree about the time factor - I believe that is the 'known' that we must choose. We can travel through space much more easily than through time. I believe I can get us to my world, I would say... within 2000 kilometers or so... of where Andalor is right now. With the methods of transportation available, a journey of no more than a few hours by plane, maybe two days by car." The group looked dumbfounded. Even without full understanding of what a 'kilometer' was, they knew that 2000 of them must be huge distance, and that such a distance could be travelled in such a short time was amazing! Maybe the Professor's world was more magical than they had thought. They started looking much brighter. "Before you start celebrating too much, I must tell you it is not without danger," the Professor said earnestly. "We might emerge in the middle of an ocean, or in front of a speeding truck. From both my experience and that of Mage Mulder and Scully on their return, I can tell you that you may emerge at some height from the ground. I have no control over that." Tarnor absently rubbed a leathery hip as he remembered his own rather precipitous entry into the other world. The Professor looked at the assembled group. "I would suggest sending two or more teams. For one thing, I cannot promise the safety of a vortex large enough to send through a group of more than two or three people. Bigger than that, and it could be so powerful that other things or people could inadvertantly be sucked in. Secondly, if one team comes to disaster, the other team will still be able to function and complete its mission." Jourdain nodded. "You haven't told us where Andalor is," Aldara said. "I had planned to send the goat to my lab in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the day of an experiment we were doing in my world year of 1951. Andalor is, I believe, somewhere in Cambridge, though not in my lab; the difference between his mass and the goat's caused that variation. The time however, is closer to the time I left my world. In other words, not long after Mulder and Scully returned from the Realm to my world." Reinald looked thoughtful. "So Andalor is in the same timeframe as our old friends?" "Quite by accident, yes," the Professor replied. "If Andalor's purpose was to go to the other world to see Mulder, then he was extremely fortunate to end up where he did." Neumann stopped for a second, then started muttering to himself. "Wait - unless the correlation of my calculations with what happened is accidental. I wonder....could the intent of the vortex traveller have any effect...unusual to be sure, beyond the explanation of science certainly, but it might be possible...." "And Mulder and Dana dwell near to your lab?" cut in Aldara excitedly. Neumann smiled. "Not too far - a few hundred kilometers." "How long a journey is that on foot?" Tarnor questioned. He remembered the lab - all too well - and he had no desire to return to it. He knew that Andalor's first instinct would probably be to try to get to Mulder any way he could. "On foot?" Neumann scratched his chin and pondered. "Well, I suppose someone could do it in a week or ten days or so. It would not be easy, however. The other world is not conducive to foot travel." "How well prepared for this journey was Andalor?" Tarnor inquired. "Was his knowledge of the tongue enough to make his needs understood? What did he bring with him to sustain him?" "An excellent question. I have done a bit of research into the matter," responded Pitir. Glancing in Reinald's direction, he said, "If I may, sir." Receiving his master's nod, the troll continued, "I wondered that myself, so I sought out Dorbo, Prince Andalor's servant. His Highness took his knife, that is known. Also a few items of clothing, and a little food. Now this is not generally known, and Dorbo told me in confidence, but he knew that the Prince had a little hidey-hole where he kept things - what items, Dorbo was unable to tell me. But together we checked the secret cache, and it was empty. I assume it had contained valuables of some sort." "Good work, Pitir," Reinald smiled. The little troll beamed. "And I can speak to the boy's proficiency in the English language. He may have a little trouble with slang and idiomatic expressions - as I did from time to time - but for the most part he will have no problem. Our lessons were thorough - he speaks better English than I do New Realm," added the Professor. Corvay nodded. "All right. So the news is not entirely bad. Andalor speaks the tongue and has access to a weapon and friends, if he can reach them, and has the resources to procure food. We know approximately where he is in place and time. Reinald, do you want to tell everyone our part of the plan?" "Corvay and I have been working hard to try to presuppose what the rescue team will need and we did come to some conclusions. But I don't know if you are going to like all of them." The Mage looked around the room at the group. "First, we'll need a language spell. We will be helpless in the other world without some knowledge of their tongue, and we don't have time to learn it. It is not a perfect answer. You may remember when Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully were among us that there were some things said which the language spell could not cope with - words peculiar to our culture or theirs, in particular. It was not until they finally learned our language that such gaps were closed. So the language spell will help, but will not solve all communication difficulties. I will return to this subject in a moment." "Corvay will put together a packet of teas and herbs and the makings for certain potions, along with the directions for their use. Especially if the team were to join forces with Healer Scully, she should remember enough of her lessons with Corvay to use them appropriately. Now, that takes care of the two most pressing needs that we could think of." He continued. "Now in terms of tactics and strategies, we came to a few conclusions - and this is the part that I fear you may take exception to in one or two instances, especially as things tend to stray over into your area of responsibility, Jourdain. First, we believe it is absolutely necessary to enlist the assistance of Mage Mulder and Dana Scully. They are our friends and their work in their world suits them ideally to our task. The more people we have who are acquainted with both the Realm and the other world, the greater our chance of success will be. I think you will remember that I gave Mage Mulder a miniature oracle cloud when he left the Realm to return to his world. As far as I know, he still has it, though he has not made an attempt to reach me through it since his departure. I have been attempting to reach him for the past couple of days through the full sized Oracle Cloud. It would be preferable to notify Mulder of our plans before we get there, to prearrange meeting places, to obtain his aid when we arrive, and for him to begin looking for Andalor before we arrive. As yet, I have had no response but I will keep trying." "Which brings me to your area, Jourdain - the composition of the rescue team. I would like to strongly suggest that the Professor be on the team." He looked anxiously at his Captain of the Guards, knowing that Neumann was not one of Jourdain's favorite people. Jourdain nodded. "You'll get no argument from me, Reinald. We had reached the same conclusion ourselves." Reinald looked somewhat relieved. "Good, though you may not be so happy about my next recommendation. I believe I must also accompany the rescue party." "But who will see to running the Realm?" Tarnor protested. "Already the countryside is talking of a great disaster which has befallen the Prince, and the noble houses are being characteristically political. If you leave, it will give certain factions the opportunity they have been waiting for. Some still support Drellor, who has been quite actively pursuing his own interests from his prison cell." "It can't be helped, Tarnor. I must be there. We have no way of knowing for certain what spells might be needed in the other world. We don't even know if a spell that works here works the same way there. What if I pronounced the language spell and the trip through the vortex changed it in some way? The rescue team would be helpless, except for the Professor, and we have already decided that two teams would be preferable - therefore one team will not have the benefit of the Professor's knowledge. We are also uncertain about handling the vortex from the other world. Hopefully we will have access to the Professor's equipment, but we cannot count on that, so both the Professor and I will need to be in the other world to ensure that we will be able to get home to the Realm. With your approval, I will ask Prince Mavor to take my place as Regent while I am gone." "An excellent choice, Reinald, but the noble houses will not be happy, you do realize that," commented Aldara. "You know how bigoted they are. They will interpret your choice of an elven prince to be in charge of the Realm as an insult to their 'honor'." "Yes, I know and it can't be helped. Besides, they interpret anything I do as an insult to their 'honor'," he said dryly. "All right, do I have your approval to take this to the Council of Representatives?" The group indicated its approval of the plan. "Jourdain and Aldara, sorry to intrude on your area. Can you tell us of the other members of the team?" The couple looked at each other. Aldara nodded to Jourdain, and he started. "When we were charged with the composition of the rescue team, we were told to be practical. I'm not sure we have completely fulfilled that charge, to tell you honestly. The composition of the team was decided by Daanna." "What?" Reinald asked. "Jourdain, I trust you have more to say about this." "Reinald, Daanna had another of her visions," Aldara explained. "She said she saw the Professor and yourself and Jourdain, all of whom we would have included in any case. But she also saw myself and Tarnor, and was most insistent that we both had to go, although for both personal and practical reasons neither of us would seem to be a good choice. I know that it seems frivolous to make such important choices on the basis of a child's strange powers. But she has never been wrong yet. Tell us what you think, Reinald." "Daanna, come over here to me," the Mage said kindly. The little girl approached him and he helped her into his lap. "Tell me your dream, child." Daanna repeated her vision of two nights past. Considerable excitement was generated when she mentioned the two people who must surely be Mulder and Scully, and the appearance of the Prince who was still in one piece. Frowns took the place of the happy expressions when she talked about the frightening men. "I have never known the child to have a single element of her vision be either incorrect or exaggerated," Reinald said. "I would have thought that sending Tarnor to the other world would be dangerous due to his species - it will be hard to disguise him - but if Daanna says he must be there and if Tarnor agrees, then I have no objection. What say you all?" There were nods of assent. "No child wants both her mother and father to leave her, unless there is a very good reason. You're a very brave little girl, Daanna," said the Professor. She shrugged. "It has to be like this, like the dream, or bad things will happen. I don't want bad things to happen," she said in a quivering voice, and jumped down from Reinald's lap to run into the comfort of her mother's arms. "We have asked Lita to care for Daanna in our absence, and Pitir has agreed to help her continue with her lessons," Aldara said. "Well, you seem to have everything under control," replied Corvay. "Tarnor, what do you say? You will be inconvenienced and endangered the most - you know the excitement your arrival generated the last time. While the others can blend in reasonably easily, you will not have that advantage. No one will think the less of you if you choose not to go." Tarnor was silent for a moment, then he slowly smiled. "But I will think less of myself, Healer. I trust Daanna's words - apparently, I have a mission in the other world. Therefore, I will go." Corvay nodded approvingly. "Then we have our plan and we have our rescuers. Jourdain, please divide the teams appropriately. Professor Neumann and Reinald, you will devise the time and place to transport the two teams through the vortex to where they must go. Now, if we can just get in touch with Mulder, everything will be ready." --------------------------- End Chpt 4 Part A --------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter 4 Part B Two days later the breakthough was made. Reinald was sitting before the Oracle Cloud, arms raised in a spell-chant which he hoped would strengthen the power of the orb, when its murky vapors began to swirl, then coalesce into a human form. The details of that form became sharper with the passage of every second. And the form was speaking. "...I know, love, I know. But it's okay. It was just..." "Mage Mulder...Mage Mulder can you hear me?" Reinald cried aloud, trying to bring the contact into closer focus. He could hear Scully's voice calling Mulder's name, then Mulder answering. "I think... Scully, where did you put that oracle cloud?" "In the box on the dresser, why?" Even faint as it was, Reinald could hear the worry in her voice. "What if Reinald really is trying to contact me?" That was Mulder's voice again, slowly coming clearer as he spoke. "That would explain everything, the dizzy spells, why the oracle cloud is responding so strongly....Get the crystal Scully...hurry!" Reinald watched anxiously, then gasped, throwing up an arm to protect his eyes, as the large oracle cloud flared up into brilliant light. Reinald slowly lowered his hand, then gazed with triumph at the face fully resolved in the crystal. "Mulder...Mulder..." he called again. "Wh-- ? R-Reinald? Is that you? Scully, did you hear that?" At the sound of Reinald's voice, faint though it had been, Mulder's mage training came back with a rush. He focused his thoughts, went through the routine of grounding and shielding. Holding the miniature oracle cloud up so that both he and Scully could see it, he was amazed to see Reinald's figure take shape in the center of the crystal. "Mage Mulder...ah, I see Scully is with you, excellent. I'm afraid I must apologize. Evidently, communication between our two worlds has lost none of its nastier side effects. I have been trying to reach you for many days. I hope you have not been too sickened by it." "No, I'm the one that's sorry, Reinald, I should have put it all together sooner than I did. I was wearing the cloud on a chain around my neck, but it started irritating me lately, finally burning my skin, so I took it off. At the same time I was having these dizzy spells - well, I feel pretty stupid now for not adding it up." "Is something wrong, Reinald?" Scully asked. "I have been having the strangest thoughts of the Realm recently, and some frightening dreams." "As intuitive as ever, I see. Corvay will be proud. I'll pass this along to him. Yes, there has been a problem. As I'm sure you know, Professor Neumann came through to our world." Mulder and Scully nodded. "Andalor was always captivated by his tales of your world, and he has been chafing a bit lately under his mantle of responsibility. Using the Professor's and my experiments with the vortex, he has run away to your world. I don't suppose you've heard from him by any chance?" Mulder looked at Scully. "I'm afraid not, Reinald. Look, what can we do? Do you know where he is?" "The Professor believes he is in a land called Cambridge, and either has already arrived, which is most likely, or will be arriving shortly - the timeframe is only accurate to within a few days, apparently. He has grown up quite a bit since you last saw him, Mulder. He is now almost ready for his coronation - if we can find him and persuade him to come back here. We are sending through a rescue party - well, two really. The Professor and Tarnor and myself will make up one team, and Aldara and Jourdain will make up another." "Tarnor? Reinald, do you think that's wise? He's not exactly going to blend in very well here, you know," Scully reminded him. "Well, he would not be my first choice either, my dear, but Daanna has foreseen it, so we are listening to a higher voice here." "Daanna, who's Daanna?" Mulder queried. "And where and when will these teams be arriving?" "As to Daanna, that's not important at the moment. Hopefully there will be plenty of time for exchanging news later. As to your second question - we hope to arrive within a few days. We are aiming for Cambridge, but the Professor informs us he can assure vortex accuracy for either time or place, and we have opted for time. So we have what the Professor calls a 2000 kilometer margin of error." "Jesus, Reinald, you could end up in the goddamn Atlantic Ocean!" Mulder ran a hand through his hair distractedly, then sighed. "All right, assuming you don't end up in the ocean or in a Scranton smelting furnace or any of millions of other unpleasant places - what's your plan?" "First, the two teams will meet up, and then begin to search for Andalor. When we find him, we must convince him to come back to the Realm. Then we attempt to go back. We had hoped that you would be able to lend us your assistance in finding Andalor." "Of course, Reinald, you know we're happy to help. You may need assistance in a few other things too. Look, write down this number." Mulder gave him his cellular phone number. "When you get here, call that number. Have the Professor teach you about how to make a collect telephone call, do you have that? A collect telephone call. It's very important. Scully and I have some time off right now. Just call us and we'll come and get you. Once we are all together, then we will go find Andalor." "All right, Mage Mulder. Is there anything else?" "Cast a language spell for everyone. You might put Lita to work making some clothing that won't be as - um - eccentric here as robes. Ask the Professor to describe to her what you need." "Easily done, Mage Mulder. If it were not for the upsetting reason for this expedition, Mulder, this would be a very happy occasion. You both have been missed greatly." "We've been missing the Realm, too, Reinald," said Scully. "It will be wonderful to see everyone again. Please pass my thoughts on to Aldara and Corvay, will you?" "Assuredly, my dear. Now is there anything else I must know?" Mulder laughed. "Reinald, we haven't even begun to scratch the surface. We'll see what we can do when you get here. Just call us first thing, okay?" "All right, Mage Mulder - see you in a few days. Farewell." "And you, Reinald," Mulder smiled. Suddenly an expression of alarm crossed his face. "Oh, and Reinald - for God's sake keep Tarnor out of sight!" The Mage chuckled. "Yes, the Professor has been quite clear on that, thank you, Mulder." With that, he brought his arms together and closed his palms over the orb. The images became cloudy, then disappeared in a swirl of vapor. Reinald stood motionless for some time, trying to absorb what he had just seen. Certainly it was wonderful to talk to Mage Mulder and his bondmate Scully, especially after so long a time. The younger mage had changed somewhat since his departure - he had shorter hair and was quite a bit paler; in fact he looked much as he did when he had first arrived in the Realm. Reinald had only a vague awareness of Mulder's surroundings from the Oracle Cloud, but that little bit had been enough for him to realize what a very different world Mulder inhabited - a world that Andalor now shared, and which he was destined to experience himself shortly. How could he possibly prepare the rescuers adequately for such an alien land? "Excuse me. Reinald?" The Professor was standing near his side. "Sorry. I knocked and couldn't get an answer, but I heard you speaking. I thought I heard Mulder's voice. Have you succeeded in getting through to him?" Wearily, the Mage crossed from the table to the armchairs by the fireplace, sat, and motioned for the Professor to join him. "I know I am growing older when such a simple thing as gazing into the Oracle Cloud causes me such fatigue," he said. "Yes, Professor, that was Mulder, and he will be ready to help us when we arrive. And he gave you a task - you must teach us all about making "a collect telephone call". Neumann chuckled. "With pleasure, Reinald. I have, subject to your approval, made calculations for creating the two vortexes in three days' time. Will that be sufficient for everyone's preparations?" "Three days." The Mage looked around him. "I find myself appreciating my surroundings more and more. I caught just a glimpse, a flavor, of Mulder's world and I don't mind telling you, Gunther, it frightened me. How is Andalor faring in such a place? "It's a strange world you're headed to, Reinald, I won't lie to you. Try to trust in Daanna's vision - she saw us all there, and Andalor with us and apparently healthy," the Professor said gently. The Mage smiled. "Thank you, my friend. Three days. Very well, I shall be ready." - - - - - It was a small and solemn group which gathered three days later in the pre-dawn gloom in a clearing some distance from Fairwoods Keep. The location had been chosen for its remoteness. Neither Reinald nor Neumann wanted to see any accidents nor did they wish to panic anyone in the castle or its neighborhood with the creation of the vortexes. In the center of the field was a roaring fire over which cauldrons were hung, surrounded by a mass of jars, metal boxes and wires. The members of the rescue team were dressed in the boots and the flowing white linen shirt native to the Realm, combined with the loose pants and lightweight jackets Lita had made to the Professor's specifications. Reluctantly, Jourdain and Aldara had left their swords at home when told by Neumann that such items were not generally worn in the other world. Both warriors, however, had more than one dagger strapped to their extremities. Prince Mavor was in attendance along with several retainers. The elven prince was under no illusions about the enormity of his task. He had arrived with his entourage late the previous night, having heard all the rumors and gossip concerning Prince Andalor and the fate of the Realm at every rest stop during his journey. He was also aware of the machinations of the noble houses. As always, the houses of Dordinal, Maalfees and Ranfaus were stirring the pot, each trying to gain power and advance its interests. Mavor's thoughts would have been consumed by the noble houses and their plots, were it not for the tiny child standing some little distance away. Daanna had arrived with her parents and Lita a short time after the others had convened in the field. Mavor was struck speechless by the intensity of the child's aura - a brilliant blue at the edges, bordering a fiery orange interior. The blue spoke of outstanding mage talent, but the orange! Mavor had never seen anything like it, and had no idea what the significance of the color was. The child stood quietly, hand in hand with Lita. Daanna was very close to the elf maidservant. When Mulder and Scully left, Lita became Jourdain and Aldara's servant, confidante and friend. She was moving into the little cottage in their absence to keep Daanna in familiar and comforting surroundings. The little girl and her parents had said their goodbyes earlier at the cottage, with a weeping Lita in the background. Aldara gazed once more upon her child. She had come very close this morning to deciding to stay in the Realm. Daanna was coping better with the impending separation than she was. It was only the knowledge that it would upset the child more if she didn't go that had brought her to this damp, chilly field. Jourdain stood beside her, stolid to outward appearances, but a riot of emotions inwardly. He felt almost a nostalgia in the excitement of the warrior before battle, the anxiety about the new experiences and uncertain future they were all about to face, and the deep regret at leaving his beloved daughter. He clasped Aldara's hand tightly, sending his strength to her. At a discreet signal from the Mage, Lita, Daanna and the Prince and his retinue briefly uttered their last farewells and withdrew to a safe distance. Reinald gathered the rescuers together and tossed some powder in the direction of the sun and the moons. He opened his arms wide and chanted for several minutes, pronouncing the language spell. Nodding to Jourdain and Aldara, he stepped back with the others and left the couple in the center of a cleared area. The Professor made a few last-minute adjustments to his equipment, then Reinald began chanting the spell that started to make the air around them swirl. As he chanted, arms outstretched, the volume of his voice increased, and with it the turbulence and howling of the air. The onlookers shielded their eyes from the dust and grass blowing around their faces. When the howling stopped and they were able to see once again, Jourdain and Aldara were gone. Daanna patted the hand of the sobbing Lita. Professor Neumann made a few more adjustments, adding some liquid from the bubbling cauldrons to several of the jars. Then he, Reinald and Tarnor stepped to the middle of the circle. Again, the Mage stretched out his arms and began his chant. Sooner this time, the small maelstrom began to encircle them, obscuring them from sight, until suddenly the field became deathly quiet and they were gone. End of chapter 4 =========================================================================== Chapter Five Part A Eyes shut tight, Aldara didn't see the ground rise up and hit her, but the impact shook her entire body. Her elbow collided first, then knees and hips, chest and face. Groaning in misery, her stomach roiling in response to the violent tumbling through the storm of the vortex, she lay still for a moment, gratified to be on solid earth again. After a few breathless moments, she stirred, cautiously opening her eyes and drawing in the deep rich smells that surrounded her. "MOOOOO!" a deep braying sound came from directly above her head, and she rolled over to find herself staring into the soulful lipid eyes of an unfamiliar animal. It had a long face ending in a big nose above a thick-lipped mouth. Its heavy body stood on four legs, stomach low to the ground, feet hoofed somewhat like a forest goat. Giving its mournful bray again, it shook its head slightly, and licked at its lips with a big flat tongue. Aldara slowly pushed herself backwards away from the creature, never taking her eyes off its face. It looked harmless enough, but she was not in any position to take chances. Luckily, the animal didn't respond to her movements, merely stood watching her almost reproachfully as she crawled away. Just as she felt she was far enough away from it to get to her feet, a sudden yell sounded from behind her. "By the gods!!!!" Relieved to hear Jourdain's voice, Aldara turned to see him crouching on the ground, his knees and hands covered with an easily recognizable, highly pungent, brown material. The remainder of the pile he had landed in was buzzing with insects, some of which now turned their attention to the furious man. As he swatted at them angrily, Aldara felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards in a smile. Then the animal behind her sounded off again, "MOOOOO!" and Aldara started to laugh. At the lilting sound of her amusement, Jourdain got the rest of the way to his feet, his face contorted into a heavy-browed scowl. That look on a man so big was a frightening sight, at least to anyone but his fearless wife. But she did try to stifle the giggles, and walked over to him, carefully eyeing the ground beneath her feet. Loosening the pack strapped tightly to her shoulders, she withdrew a cloth and handed it to him. "Here," she said, her nose crinkling up at the awful smell. He glowered at her, but accepted the cloth and began trying to remove the worst of the animal dung from his clothes and hands. While he busied himself with the necessary chore, Aldara took the time to examine their surroundings. To her relief there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary, if you could accept the odd-looking animal as some sort of herd beast. There had to be at least two dozen of them wandering around the field, most a dull brown color, some with patches of black and white on their bodies. Aldara soon noted the presence of a fence lining the field, beyond which were some woods and a small creek. In a different direction, she could see a grain field, and rolling green hills stretching out into the distance. To her left she could barely make out the shape of a building, too far away to see clearly. They had obviously landed on farmland, and that information was comforting. Where there were tended fields, there had to be people, and in her experience, while farmers were hardly the most exciting people, they were usually friendly. Re-hoisting her pack, Aldara turned back to her husband, who was still growling his displeasure. "Come on, there's a stream across the fence. Let's get you cleaned up there, then try to find the farmer who owns this land. We'll need to get his help to contact Mage Mulder and Scully." Jourdain nodded. Staring at the besmirched cloth in his hand, he crumpled it into his huge fist, then stomped off after his petite wife, glaring angrily at the herd beasts who watched their passing with unconcerned eyes. - - - - - Jourdain felt a lot better after he had had a chance to wash himself off, though he couldn't quite seem to get rid of the stench of the beast manure. Aldara had washed off her hands and face, then moved to stand sentry on the bank of the stream. Her eyes kept returning to the fence they had climbed, studying it with a mixture of curiosity and worry. It was made of a metal she did not recognize; smooth and gray in color, it was hard to the touch and wrought with incredible workmanship. Who would put so much effort into crafting a barrier to pen herd animals? It didn't make any sense. "We'd better get going," Jourdain interrupted her thoughts, his eyes turned towards the sky. It was a clear familiar blue, with bright sunlight filtering down through whisps of white clouds. The similarity to their own home was eerie, if it hadn't been for the fence and the animals, he'd have thought that Reinald and the Professor had failed, and they were still in the Realm. Aldara nodded her agreement, looking around her warily. "Which way?" "Back across the field," Jourdain replied unhappily. He had no desire to go back into the enclosure with the foreign creatures, but it was the most direct route towards the building Aldara had seen in the distance. Her half-elven eyes were far more acute than his old human ones, and he trusted her to lead them in the right direction. Together, they clambered back over the fence, and started across the field. - - - - - Half-way across the grain field, Jourdain could begin to see the shape of the dwelling in the distance. The sun was slowly setting behind it, the sky streaked with layers of red and orange clouds. The building itself gave off a soft pink glow, though that was probably a simple reflection of the light. His boots sinking down into the damp soil with every step, Jourdain stumbled along after his defter, quicker wife, wishing for a simple gravel road or dirt path. Unfortunately in this world, the roads weren't quite so ordinary, at least to the eyes of the Realm travelers. Rising up ahead of them was a short incline the top of which shimmered in the dying light. An unsteady rumble grew in their ears as they approached it, both shading their eyes from the setting sun. Sudden flashes of light flew along the length of the small hill, accompanied by the sound of thunder. But the sky was clear, the clouds few and scattered, causing Aldara to face the obstacle ahead with suspicion. As they came closer to the edge of the incline, the fast-moving colors resolved into strange box-like creatures with huge glowing eyes set low on their front. Their legs an indistinguishable blur beneath squat bodies, they emitted horrific sounds as they raced by at unbelievable speeds. Aldara and Jourdain crawled up the small hill cautiously, both wrinkling their noses at the awful smell that emanated from the beasts. It was reminiscent of burning metal mixed with the smell of the Hytouk swamp. Close to the top, Jourdain motioned to Aldara to stay back, while he slowly edged forward into the small ditch on the edge of the road surface. Grateful none of the weird creatures were running past, he took a few moments to stare at the black surface in amazement. It appeared to be made of melted rock, and reminded the well-traveled soldier of the rock flows along the edges of the fire-mountain that marked the far end of the Border between Fairwood and its neighbor to the south. Yet, this was clearly contained and ordered, running in a straight line in both directions. Kneeling down on the edge of the black surface, he stretched out a tentative finger to touch it. A roaring sound split the silence of the dusk, and Jourdain darted backwards. He had barely scrambled down to join Aldara in safety when three more of the creatures flew past. Close up, they were even more frightening, seeming to run on small black circles rather than legs, with smoke belching out of their backs. "We've got to get across to the house," Aldara said, unable to keep her voice from trembling. Then, fighting down the fear, she drew in her shoulders and stared grimly at the strange road with determination. Jourdain looked at her, his eyes full of pride. No man could ever have wished for a braver woman to walk by his side. He would never fail to thank the gods for her every day of his life. A life that was unfortunately looking like it might come to a sudden unpleasant halt. But the man who had led armies against the Dark Forces was not about to give up now. He nodded his agreement, then led the way up to the roadside. "They don't seem to come by at any reasonable pattern, but at least we can hear them before we see them," he said. Aldara nodded. "On this side, they come from the left, on the other side, they come from the right." As if in confirmation of her statement, two more of the monsters rumbled past on the far side. "We'll take it halfway at a time, as soon as this side is clear, we run for the grass in the middle." Jourdain ordered. Aldara agreed, her thin elven features tightening as she gazed down the black strip with brilliant green eyes. They waited until two more of the smelly beings raced by, then Jourdain took Aldara's hand, squeezed it, then pulled her after him across the black rock. Their hearts pounded in their chests as they ran faster than either had ever run in their lives, the wind whipping at Aldara's mane of black curls. Finally, they collapsed forward into the small strip of grass in the middle, drawing their feet up under them instinctively. Turning over, Aldara shuddered as another bright red creature thundered past, merely a few breaths after they had made it across. Jourdain caught his wife's shiver, and reached out to draw her into his arms. Unhesitantly trusting him with her fear, she clung to him, burying her face into his shoulder. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head, then leaned further down to kiss her forehead. She tilted her head up and gave him a tremulous smile. "Halfway there," she whispered. He returned the smile, then looked over her head to scowl at the remaining few feet of the dangerous pathway. They helped each other up, then re-secured their packs across their shoulders. Then stepping to the edge of the grass, they stood poised, waiting for the right moment to run. When it came, they didn't hesitate - feet flying, they were across it and tumbling down the incline on the other side in seconds. They landed in a grass-covered heap at the bottom of the hill, both laughing in sheer relief and exhilaration. Wrapping her arms around her husband's broad shoulders, Aldara kissed him soundly. He scooped her up into his arms and hugged her tight. After a few long, precious moments of recovery, they picked themselves up and turned towards the dwelling. Made of white-painted wood, it was nestled against the side of a larger red building, between which stretched a smaller version of the strange roadway they had just crossed. A few trees and bushes decorated the land around it, and the recognizable shape of a water well was resting close by. Another object was sitting on the roadway in front of the house, a squat blue object on black wheels with a blank face and huge dim eyes. Staring at it with wide-eyes, Aldara and Jourdain finally realized that it was a quiescent version of the thunder beasts. As they slowly approached the house, Jourdain and Aldara both eased knives into the palms of their hands, neither taking their eyes off the unmoving beast. But it remained still and silent, unresponsive to their stealthy approach. By the time they got within a few feet of the house, Aldara was growing braver and angrier, unwilling to be cowed by the strange creature. Jourdain only caught the edge of the glimmer in her eyes before she took off, charging the unresponsive monster with a brandished knife. "Aldara, NO!!!!" he cried, but she was already striking out with her knife. As he ran to try to catch up with his fleeter wife, Jourdain heard the screech of the blade on the monster's skin. His heart nearly choked his throat, as he saw her strike it again and again. But to both their surprise it did not respond to her attack. Jourdain skidded to a halt by her side, reaching out to grab her hand as she swiped down at the creature's side yet again. "Jourdain!" she yelled, twisting in his grasp, but he held her firmly. "Do you want to get us killed?" he shouted, trying to drag her away from the monster before it woke up and had them both for dinner. "Put me DOWN!" she yelled. He stared fiercely into her unrepentant eyes, then set her down on her feet, still holding both her hands firmly. Pushing her behind him, he eyed the unmoving thing warily. Not sure what to do, he settled for politeness. Bowing his head to it, he spoke as diplomatically as he knew how. "I apologize for my wife's unthinking attack. She was simply frightened. We are travellers from a far land and have never met any of your kind before." By the time he had finished his speech, Aldara had stopped struggling and was beginning to giggle. Jourdain turned and glared at her. She drew in a deep breath, a laugh turning into a hiccup. "J...Jourdain, I don't think its alive." "What? But?" He stared at the thing. "Do you think its a dead one?" "I think that maybe they aren't alive at all," she replied. "Look, there are little chairs inside." Jourdain released her hands and edged a little closer, until he was staring into the inside of the thing. She was right, there were chairs inside it. In fact, he'd never seen anything quite like it. Aldara stepped up beside him, and reached out with to tap it with her knuckles. "It is some kind of fancy decorated wagon. Looks like it is made of painted metal." "But how does it go so fast?" Jourdain argued. "The ones on the road had no animals pulling or pushing them." "Must be magic," Aldara answered matter-of-factly, although her stomach was turning upside down. To have enough magic to make, much less run, one of these things - it was shocking. The only person she'd met who might have that kind of power was Mulder, but then this was his world. She suddenly wondered if everyone here had that kind of power, and that idea made her knees turn to jelly. "I think we'd better try to make that teeleefun kall that the Professor said could reach Mulder and Scully." Jourdain couldn't agree more. Watching the strange object doubtfully, still not convinced it wouldn't wake up and try to eat them, he looked towards the house. "I wonder if someone is home?" - - - - - Katherine Dybdahl was busy canning vegetables in the kitchen when she heard some loud noises outside, first what sounded like a scream and then a series of screeches that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Wiping her palms off on the towel, she took hold of a long kitchen knife. Pressing the blade down along her side, handle clasped in her right hand, she walked cautiously towards the open window. Brushing the thin, white-lace drapes aside, she peered out into the front yard, only to see a big man bowing towards her station wagon, with a tiny woman clutched against his side. Katherine watched in surprise as the two strangers spoke to each other, then moved forward to cautiously tap at her car as though they had never seen one before. The man gazed in through the driver's window, then straightened up and looked towards the house. Katherine slid sideways from the window, praying that he hadn't seen her. came a banging on the front door. Katherine paused, uncertain of whether to pretend she wasn't home, or to take a chance on opening the door to the weird couple. Finally, feeling secure within her own home, her curiosity got the better of her and she hurried into the front hallway. Sliding the knife into the pocket of her apron, Katherine opened the door and came face to face with one of the biggest men and smallest women she had ever met. Easily over six feet tall, the man had wide shoulders and massive arms. His eyes were a clear blue under thick sandy eyebrows, and his face craggy, but spare, devoid of fat, the skin drawn taught over massive bones. He should have been menacing, but there was a solidity to him that reminded her of her own father, and she quickly noticed that he had rough calluses on his palms and fingers, the sign of a man who works with his hands. The woman was dwarfed by him, yet she seemed to be the more dominant personality. Less than five-feet tall, she had a mass of hair that was tied off her forehead with an engraved metal clasp to fall down her shoulders in a thick cascade of raven-colored curls. Her green eyes were extraordinarily large and brilliant within a thin, pointed face. Like her companion she was dressed in cool cotton clothes that had a certain old-world feel to them. Their feet were encased in leather boots, and both wore flowing linen shirts, originally white, now stained with grass and dirt. Or perhaps more than dirt, if Katherine's nostrils were correct. "Hello?" Katherine said, uncomfortably aware that the two strangers were returning her scrutiny in full force. The man bowed his head, and spoke in English thick with an unrecognizable accent. "Lady, we are sorry to disturb you, but we are travellers from a distant land. We would request of your hospitality a drink of water and the use of your..." here he stumbled, as though searching for an unfamiliar word, "...teelefoon. We need to make a kallak kall." It took Katherine a moment, then his accented words clicked into sense. "A collect call," she repeated. He nodded and essayed a tentative grin. It brightened up his entire face, and Katherine suddenly felt herself warming to this odd pair. There was something trustworthy about this man, and the woman looked hardly threatening at her size. "Unh...sure, why not," she found herself replying. "Why don't you come into the kitchen. There's a phone in there, and I've got some ice water in the fridge." =========================================================================== Chapter Five Part B Aldara and Jourdain followed the woman into her house, not quite making sense of all her words. But they were both extremely thirsty and very anxious to reach Mulder and Scully. Aldara's eyes darted from one unusual object to another, some things were familiar, others were beyond strange. And the kitchen was a mixture of a woman's dreams and her nightmares. There was a lot of space and an extraordinary collection of finely crafted knives and utensils. Aldara's fingers itched to go exploring. The woman led them into the center of the room, then pointed out an object on the table. "There's the phone, just dial "0" to get the operator." Then she turned to one of the cabinets and drew out cups made of some brightly painted material that Aldara couldn't quite identify. The woman's words made some slight sense to Jourdain, having been drilled by the Professor on what to do when he found this 'telephone' thing. Gingerly he picked up the top part, the loose piece that looked rather like two muffins melded together. Holding it up to his ear, he eyed the set of white buttons with symbols engraved on them. Jourdain's reading ability was minimal, even with the overlay of the language spell, so he had difficulties identifying the characters. However, the procedure had been hammered into his head. Reaching out cautiously, he poked at the one with a small oval on the top. "BEEP" sounded in his ear, and he jerked back, looking at the object in his hand with wary eyes. When it did nothing more, he slowly put it back against his ear, just in time to hear a woman's voice say "aay tee and tee, may I help you." Okay, this was what was supposed to happen. Clearing his throat he repeated the Professor's words. "I would like to make a kuhllect kall." "Your name please," responded the voice in his ear. "Jjjj...Jourdain," he said. "Number please," the disembodied voice continued woodenly. This, too, he knew. "202-555-8957" "One moment please..." Then there was silence in his ear. Jourdain looked up to see the woman handing Aldara a bright blue cup, then placed another on the table beside Jourdain. He nodded his thanks. Aldara stared at the odd goblet in her hands, then slowly raised it to her lips. She sighed as she tasted the cold clear water, drawing down a couple deep swallows. Then she lowered it from her lips and began to examine the glass itself. Just as Aldara was about to ask what the cup was crafted of, a bell-like sound erupted in Jourdain's ear. It rang three times, then clicked, and a very familiar voice spoke a very familiar name. "Mulder." "Mage Mulder!" Jourdain cried out with joy and astonishment, but he was interrupted by the voice of the telephone. "Will you accept a collect call from Jourdain?" "Yes, Yes," that was Mulder's voice again, his tone rising. "Jourdain is that you?" "Yes, Mage Mulder, it is Jourdain." Jourdain waved his hand at Aldara, and she flew over to his side. He lowered the telephone object, stooping over in the hope that they could both hear and speak at once. "Jourdain... I don't believe it! Where are you?" "I..." Jourdain frowned. "On a farm somewhere near a big road." "Just a minute..." Mulder's voice was distracted, and Jourdain soon heard him yelling at a distance. "Scully, Scully, get in here! I've got Jourdain on the phone!" "Jourdain, who is with you? Are you alone?" "No, Aldara is with me, Reinald, Tarnor and the Professor went through separately from us," the soldier replied. Again, he could hear Mulder speaking to Scully, echoing his words. Then Mulder's voice came through strong and clear. "OK, we need to figure out exactly where you and Aldara are, so that Scully can come bring you here. You said you were on a farm, is there someone you can ask for the location." Jourdain nodded, then belatedly realized that Mulder couldn't see him. At least he didn't THINK the Mage could see him. "Yes," he said, then he turned to the woman. "Lady, can you tell me where we are?" She looked at him in surprise, but shrugged her shoulders and answered calmly. "We're just outside of Oconomowoc." "Okkoonomo....?" Jourdain repeated, frowning. The woman smiled and said it again more slowly. "Oconomowoc." This time Jourdain almost got it right, but Mulder was still unable to decipher the name. "Jourdain, ask the person you are talking to if I could speak to her." Jourdain nodded again. "Lady, my friend would like to speak to you." He held out the phone over Aldara's head. Katherine took it and put the receiver to her ear. "Hello?" "Ma'am," Mulder said, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. "My name is Fox Mulder." "Katherine Dybdahl," she replied. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Dybdahl. I'm sorry to inconvenience you, but my friends are visiting from a foreign country, and their English is not too good. I think they've gotten a bit lost, and I'd like to send someone to pick them up and bring them back to Washington. Can you tell me where you are?" "Washington?" Katherine said in surprise. "We're in Wisconsin. My farm is just on the outskirts of Oconomowoc, approximately halfway between Milwaukee and Madison." "Wisconsin?!" Mulder replied. "Good heavens. Can you hold on for a moment?" Katherine could hear a whispered discussion in the background, then the man's velvety voice was back on the line. "Is there a motel or something close by at which my friends could stay for tonight?" Katherine thought for a moment. "Yes, there's a Red Roof Inn about four miles away to the East, and Lacey's Bed and Breakfast is about one and half miles to the West." "Would you mind looking up the phone number for me for the B&B? I'd be very much in your debt." "Sure," Katherine replied, her mind running over with questions that she just barely held in. Who were these people? But she bit her tongue and simply handed the phone back to the big man. "Mulder?" Jourdain asked, having only caught half of the conversation. "Scully is going to come find you," Mulder told him. "But it is going to take her a while to get there. She has a long distance to come. I thought it would be a good idea if you went to a mo...an inn for the night." Jourdain agreed that was a good idea. Then another thought struck Mulder. "Unh...Jourdain, I don't suppose that the Professor gave you any money - I mean coinage?" "Yes," Jourdain was pleased to say. "He had some in his pocket when he came to the Realm, and Reinald was able to copy it. So we have a lot of the green paper, and a few of the silver coins." "Good - I think," Mulder sounded slightly rueful, then he laughed. "OK, it'll have to do. - - - - - Mulder put down the phone and turned to Scully, his hazel eyes glittering. "That was amazing! Even after the contact with Reinald, I didn't quite believe..." Scully laughed. "YOU - didn't believe?" Her voice lilted with apparent shock, a copper eyebrow lifting in time. Mulder tilted his head at her, then grinned. "Hey, even I have my moments of doubt. But this is for real. Even speaking English, I'd recognize Jourdain's voice anywhere." Scully smiled gently as her own memories flooded back. "He does have a distinctive grumble. It will be good to see them again, though I worry a bit about the effect this world will have on them." Frowning, Mulder rubbed at his chin. He settled his lanky frame down on the edge of the bed, and turned to look up at her. "Yeah - but they're pretty tough. Anyone who fought the Dark creatures and won is made of stern stuff. I think they'll take it in stride. The one I'm worried about is Andalor." His eyes darkened. Scully sat down beside him, easily feeling his mood change. "We'll find him. Maybe he'll even find us. If he IS here in this world, he'll try to contact us - or at least you. I know how fond he was of you." The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Still laying recumbent on the bed, Mulder's entire body tensed, his fingers curling reflexively into a fist, then jerking open. //Mulder, this is not your fault.\\ She deliberately sent the thought through their bond link, combining it with a flood of reassuring certainty. //Andalor is old enough to know better. He caused this mess deliberately.\\ //Maybe.\\ Mulder's response was doubtful, pain etched across his finely-drawn features. "No maybes about it." This time Scully spoke aloud. She knew his fears for Andalor brought back the pain of his sister's disappearance, and the sense of self-blame was deeply ingrained. Not for the first time, Scully wished Bill Mulder was still alive so that she could have her chance to give him a thorough reaming for the lifetime of pain inflicted on his son. But that was not productive, for now the best thing to do was move forward. Above all, Mulder needed to feel he was doing something to help find the missing boy. Maybe success in this would help him deal with his inability to rescue Samantha. Maybe... "You'd better call the airport and make the reservations, then call this Bed and Breakfast place." Scully spoke briskly, trying to distract him. "It might be a good idea if you paid for Jourdain and Aldara's room by credit card. I know Reinald copied the Professor's money, but I'm almost afraid to see the results. The last thing we need is to have them arrested for counterfeiting!" "That's for sure," Mulder agreed, some humor returning to his eyes. He reached for the phone as she walked towards the closet. She pulled down a small suitcase from the back and tossed it over onto the bed, then quickly threw a few necessities into it while he attempted to negotiate with the airlines. After a long argument, he finally hung up the phone with a rueful grimace and flopped across the bed. Cradling his head in his hands, he stared at the ceiling. "You're booked on the 7pm flight to Milwaukee with a stop in Detroit. You should get to Mitchell Field by about 11:30pm. The best I could do on the return was 8:30am tomorrow." "Sounds fine." Scully closed up the suitcase, then sat down beside him. "This wasn't exactly how I had intended to spend our vacation." "I know love," Mulder replied, reaching out to tenderly sweep a loose red curl off her cheek. "But it will be good to see our friends again." Scully smiled. She was excited to see Aldara and Jourdain again. She'd missed them all, especially her half-elven sword master, even more than she had realized. Leaning over, she kissed him swiftly, then got to her feet. "You'd better make the room reservations and I have to get to the airport. Call me when you hear from Reinald and the Professor." "I will," Mulder promised, wriggling up to a sitting position reluctantly. Rising to his feet, he followed her to the door. After she had picked up her purse and checked to make sure she had her gun, badge, and cellular phone, he caught her from behind. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he squeezed her tightly. "Be careful and give my best to A & J." She laughed, twisting in his embrace until her chin was resting on his chest. "I will. See you tomorrow." He kissed her once, twice, then reluctantly let her go. She swung up her suitcase, stepped out the door, and was gone. - - - - - Neither Jourdain nor Aldara could sleep. They lay together on the big soft bed, staring at the odd ceiling lamp. As far as they could tell the light was magically generated, controlled by the small knob in the wall by the door. When the innkeeper had brought them to their room, he had pressed the knob up and the lights had turned on instantly. After the man had left them, Aldara had spent several long minutes turning the lights on and off, flicking the knob up and down with amazed delight. Jourdain's first interest had been the washroom, and though it took him a while to figure out how the water pump worked, he had been truly pleased when his efforts were finally rewarded with a flow of hot water. Aldara had soon joined him, and they had luxuriated in a long hot bath together. Feeling refreshed, they had dined on the cheese and bread from their packs, then settled down to a more serious exploration of the room. That pursuit had kept them occupied for a couple candlemarks, but exhaustion had slowly crept up on them. Unfortunately, sleep had not been so kind. They lay awake, talking in spurts, often drifting off into a comfortable silence. "This is a strange world," Jourdain whispered against Aldara's hair. Curled up against his side, she murmured her agreement, then they both lay silent again. "Jourdain?" Aldara tipped her head up, then moved over to rest on his broad chest. "Yes." He rumbled, pressing a big callused hand into the small of her back. "Do you think Andalor is all right?" Aldara's shiny emerald eyes were full of worry. "He must be terrified." Jourdain laughed, a deep rumbling in his throat. "He is probably having the time of his life." At Aldara's reproachful look, he pulled up to a half-sitting position, then drew her into his lap. "Boys of that age love to explore. They think they are invincible. Danger appears exciting. They treat it like a game of hoopballs. Sometimes, if they are lucky, they get hurt just enough to learn from it without dying." His craggy features turned thoughtful, while a small smile played at the corners of his lips. "When I was Andalor's age I ran off from home and ended up working as an apprentice Protector on a merchant caravan. We were going across the Keffaire wasteland to trade with the Keff nomads, linens and tools for skins and spices. It was a difficult trek; we lost two men the first night beyond the mountains in a fight with bandits. I almost got myself killed several times, but I learned a lot from the experience. Andalor needs his chance to run free, he has a lifetime of responsibility ahead of him." Aldara could see the memories flashing before her husband's eyes, and she smiled tenderly at him. She had done something very similar herself, so she did understand. The problem was that Andalor was not just any boy, he was Prince and Heir to the throne. And he had gone much further than anyone could have imagined. "I suppose," she said doubtfully, but she brightened as another thought occurred. "At least he is an excellent fighter." Jourdain smiled. "Yes. So much like his father. Did I ever tell you about the time..." Bolting upright in bed, Aldara scrambled over to grab her dagger off of the bedside table. Jourdain slid noiselessly onto the floor, and came around the bed towards the door. Graceful as a cat, Aldara took up a position on the opposite side of the doorway, then signaled Jourdain that she was ready. Cautiously he opened the door. ------------------ End Chpt5 Part B ------------------ =========================================================================== Chapter Five Part C The yellow light from the hallway streamed in around the small figure standing erect within the door frame, making a bright golden halo of her fiery hair. At the sight of the big man standing warily in front of her, her face lit up into a brilliant smile. A smile that only grew when he picked her up off her feet and swung her around. Scully laughed and returned Jourdain's bear-hug with unaffected pleasure, though she gasped a bit for breath when he squeezed her tight. "Easy Jourdain," she told him, taking hold of the tops of his massive arms as he finally put her feet back down on the floor. Her hair slid across her shoulders in a riot of color, as she leaned her head back to stare up into his face. He was definitely older, Scully thought, the realization shocking her despite her intellectual knowledge that several years had passed in the Realm relative to the several months here on Earth. Still it was a shock to see the gray streaks in his blond hair and the lines drawn tight around his eyes. But a longer look at his face let her see all the things that hadn't changed, from the clarity of his blue eyes to the sense of easy strength and earthiness he carried with him. Jourdain had always been the one closest to her in temperament, and she found his presence as comforting as ever. Before either could speak again, a much smaller figure bounded out from behind the dresser to the left shouting, "Scully!" "Aldara!" The two women were soon caught up in a joyful, tearful hug, laughter rippling from them even as moisture dampened both pairs of eyes. Pulling apart to study each other carefully, they exchanged wide smiles. "You've gotten too pale," Aldara said critically, the words belied by the affection glowing in her green eyes. "And you've gained weight," Scully returned, her voice full of laughter. Aldara grimaced, tugging at her shirt. "Well, after the baby was born..." "BABY!" Scully whooped with delight. Aldara grinned with pleasure and pride. "Yes, Daanna is four now, talking a mile a minute, questions about everything, full of energy..." Aldara sighed with a fake 'why me?" air. "And Mage-gifted to boot." "Daanna," Scully repeated, her eyes shining. "Thank you," she said softly. "What else could we name her?" Aldara said with equal sincerity. "I...we...missed you so much. And Daanna - she reminded me of you from the first moment I saw her." Scully couldn't find the words, and settled for pulling her friend into another quick hug. Then they parted, and Scully looked from Aldara to Jourdain. "I missed you too, both of you. And Mulder did as well." At the mention of Mulder, Jourdain's face focused. "Has he heard from the Prince?" Scully shook her head. "No, not a word. Mulder and I have basically been waiting to hear from you and Reinald. Without even a good recent photo of Andalor, and no idea where to start looking, there was little we could do but wait for you." "Photo?" Jourdain asked, frowning as the word didn't quite communicate properly. "Unh...painting," Scully substituted quickly, and his face cleared up. "Yes, Andalor has grown quite a bit since you saw him last. He's almost of age to be crowned." Aldara suddenly clicked into gear as hostess. As foreign as this room was, there were still protocols to be followed. "Come, let us sit down," she said, casting her eyes around the small room. "I'm sorry there is no fire to make tea..." "That's ok," Scully replied, walking over to the wooden chair in the corner. Picking it up, she moved it closer to the bed, then sat down. Jourdain and Aldara set themselves on the edge of the mattress facing her. "Have you heard anything from Reinald, Tarnor and the Professor?" Aldara asked anxiously. Scully shook her head. "No, at least not before I left to come here. Mulder will call me when he hears from them." "I hope they're not hurt or lost." Aldara replied, remembering the events of this past day with a mixture of amazement and worry. "This is a very strange world you live in." Jourdain grunted his agreement, causing Scully to laugh. "Yeah, I know. Though yours was a bit of a surprise to Mulder and me. Seeing Tarnor for the first time was quite a shock. Then we got attacked by the soul-eaters, and I don't remember much until we were at Fairwood castle. That whole first day still seems like a dream even now. At the time, I knew it was real, and yet I was sure I was dreaming." "I feel the same way," Aldara said, staring around her with wide eyes. "Some things are so familiar, and other things are so...odd. And even the familiar things are different from what I'm used to." "I know, and there are stranger things to come, I'm afraid. But I'll do my best to guide you. Really, the differences are only on the surface. Mulder and I quickly found that people are basically the same no matter where you are. Some are good, some are bad, most are somewhere in-between." Jourdain nodded his head, recognizing good sense when he heard it. "What happens now?" he asked, nonetheless unable to conceal his dislike for being in a situation he could not control or even completely understand. Scully glanced rapidly at her wrist watch. "I think we should try to get some sleep. We've got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow." Her stomach tightened into a tiny ball. How were they going to react to driving in a car, much less flying in an airplane? They were brave, strong people, but... Taking a deep breath, she gave them as reassuring a smile as she could and changed the subject. "But first, tell me all about your daughter. I want details!" she insisted. The proud parents were delighted to oblige. ------------------------ End Chpt5 Part C ------------------------ =========================================================================== Chapter 5 Part D Dawn came far too soon. They had talked until almost 3am, then caught just over an hour's worth of sleep. Scully had set her alarm clock - which she never travelled without - for 5:30. She slammed the clock hard, then turned over to shake Jourdain. Aldara was already sitting up in the bed, body poised for action. "It's ok," Scully reassured her. "It was just my alarm clock." Aldara frowned as the words did not quite communicate. Scully sighed. "It means that it is time to get up. We have to get on the road." Aldara grimaced, rubbing at her weary eyes, then nodded and slid off the bed. The other two were not far behind, and since no one had brought much more than they could carry, were soon ready to leave. Scully checked them out, grateful that Mulder had pre-paid the rooms. She signed his credit card slip without too much guilt, they had ended up only using the one room. Then herding her two friends out into the cool pre-dawn air, she headed for the rental car. Aldara and Jourdain followed her up to the small blue Toyota warily, watching with wide eyes as Scully calmly opened the door, then popped the trunk. "Put the bags in here for now," she said walking around the car and dumping her suitcase into the back of the car. "Is it safe?" Jourdain asked tentatively. "Safe?" Scully grinned. "Yes, it is safe enough. Ummm... think of this as a fancy kind of wagon." Seeing that Scully was so relaxed, Aldara decided she was not going to act cowardly. Pushing past her husband she carefully dropped her pack in next to Scully's. "How does it go? Are there animals inside? Or is it magic?" "No, and it's not... I mean..." Scully stammered, trying to think of a way to explain auto mechanics and utterly failing. "I guess it is a kind of magic. Sort of." She didn't like putting it that way, every scientific bone in her body was screaming, but it was the simplest explanation. One they would accept. Jourdain grunted, and gave in. He was still wary of the magic wagon, having seen how fast they could move, but had to accept Scully's knowledge of her own world. He added his pack to the others, then stood back while Scully shut the trunk. Opening the car doors, she frowned up at Jourdain. Like Mulder, he was tall enough to be uncomfortable in the small car. Thank goodness she had insisted on the four-door rather than the two-door model. "Why don't you take the back seat, Jourdain. You can even lay down if you like." The big guardsman eyed the inside of the car unhappily for a long moment, then taking a deep breath, lifted a foot and put it through the door Scully was holding open for him. When it wasn't immediately bitten off, he twisted down and forced his head and shoulders in as well. Behind him, Scully was trying hard not to laugh, clamping her hand down over her mouth as he hit his head on the ceiling, then stumbled sideways. Aldara was not quite so restrained, she started giggling openly, which earned her a sapphire glare from the irate man after he had finally settled himself into the car seat, half-laying across it, with his knees bent at awkward angles. Deciding it would have to do, Scully quickly closed the door behind him. Aldara scrambled easily into her seat, and sat there twitching with excitement. Her emerald eyes glittered as she ran her hands over the soft leather of the seats and the oddly smooth material of the dashboard. It was the same stuff as the cup the farmer woman had given her, and of which much in their room had been made of. Amazing... Scully got into the driver's seat, then showed Aldara how to fasten her seatbelt. Aldara grasped tightly to the strap, holding it across her chest, while Scully did her own. Jourdain had worked himself into a sitting position in the back seat, and his hands were clamped onto the back of Aldara's seat. Scully turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared into life, making both Realm travellers cry out in surprise. "Nothing to worry about," Scully reassured. "It's just a little loud. But it's perfectly safe. I'm a good driver." With that, she put the car into reverse and gently started the car moving. In the back seat, Jourdain grit his teeth, and sent up a series of prayers. He was not a man to be afraid of things, but he did not like these magic wagons. They were too noisy, too fast, and too strange. Closing his eyes, he begged the gods to let them survive. Feeling the smoothness of the movement, Aldara lessened her grip on the strap holding her in place, and stared around her as Scully eased the car around and into forward motion. At first, they went slowly, pausing at the edge of the small area in front of the inn, then cautiously turning out onto the road. Then Scully accelerated the car, causing Aldara to squeak, and Jourdain to tighten his grip on the seat. As they picked up speed, but did not crash into anything, Aldara finally found her voice. "Can anyone drive one of these things?" Scully smiled. "Almost anyone. You have to be above a certain age, and you have to take a test to prove you can do it safely. If you pass the test, you get a license - a written permission - to drive." "It must take a long time to learn." "Not really," Scully kept the car at a steady pace of about 35 miles per hour, hoping to have them more at ease before she hit I-94. "It is not that difficult. Rather like riding a fast horse, you just get used to it after enough practice." Aldara nodded, her dilated eyes still staring at the passing landscape. Her breathing had slowed down, and her natural adventurism was beginning to assert itself. "Does Mulder drive?" Scully laughed. "Yes, he loves it! Too much so, he likes to drive recklessly fast." Jourdain felt his stomach turn over, how fast was too fast? They were already flying down the road far too quickly for his peace of mind. By the time Scully drove onto the big highway, Aldara was beginning to enjoy herself, and Jourdain was becoming motion-sick. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his seat and squeezed his eyes shut while Aldara gazed out the front window with delight. "This is so much better than riding a horse! No sore muscles, and you are protected from the rain and cold. And so much faster!" Scully grinned at her friend. "It's not bad." Reaching over, she switched on the tape player. Music boomed through the car, causing Aldara to give another squeal of delight. Meanwhile, Jourdain simply settled down into his misery, his skin turning a pasty white beneath its tan. - - - - - Jourdain and Aldara sat huddled together on a bench in the middle of the busy airport. Scully's bright head gleamed at them from a small distance, as she waited impatiently in line at the USAir counter. Every so often, she would turn to check on her friends, relieved to see them sitting so quietly. She hadn't missed the discomfort on Jourdain's face or the eager curiosity on Aldara's. It was that last that worried her, Aldara had a tendency to be recklessly fearless, and she was absorbing the sights and sounds of this new world with avid delight. Jourdain, on the other hand, felt miserable, though he was working hard to conceal his feelings. Few things had pleased him more than setting his feet on solid ground after the seemingly endless ride in the strange metal wagon. But no sooner had his stomach settled, than Scully had haltingly explained that they were about to take another ride - this time on a huge magic bird of some sort. At least the car had been close to the ground and had been under Scully's obviously experienced control. The idea of trusting their safety to some foreign magical creature was something else entirely. The big soldier frowned, feeling a now familiar sense of being lost rush over him. He had never lacked for self-confidence. Both his size and skill as a fighter had always secured him a measure of respect from those around him. He was accustomed to being in charge and having people obey his orders. But that had been based on a world he knew well; here, in this foreign world, he had no conception of how things were supposed to be. And that left him feeling adrift, uncertain and uneasy. Jourdain squared his shoulders, glaring around him at the people rushing about, lugging packs and bundles of all shapes and sizes. Even the people here were different, the colors of their eyes, hair and skin varying much more than he was accustomed to. His eyes widened as a pair of young girls ran past - some even were as green as a ground troll. But at least they were basically familiar. Feeling for the knife strapped into his belt, he reminded himself that he could handle people. Few, if any, of these strangers looked like they could fight. In fact, most looked singularly unprepared for defending themselves. Taking a deep breath, he glanced over at Scully, who had finally reached the chest-high barrier and was talking expansively with the woman dressed in an odd uniform. He was struck again by the aura of courage and confidence that surrounded the small fiery-haired woman. And for the first time he truly appreciated how brave both she and Mulder had been to adjust so quickly to the Realm. For if this world was so frightening to him, he could only imagine how his world had appeared to them. And the growing sense of admiration he felt for his friends was the first real comfort he'd found since arriving here the previous day. If Scully was certain that they must ride this magical bird, then so be it. Jourdain was not going to let her or Mage Mulder down. Aldara only sensed some of the thoughts running through her husband's mind, but she knew him well enough by now to realize he was having more difficulty adjusting to this world than she was. The small half-elf wished there was something she could do or say to help, but she knew that he was too proud to accept her concern. Not that he would deliberately shut her out, he loved her too much, but he still had a man's pride. He knew she was there by his side, and always would be. So she bit her tongue, letting him try to find his own peace with their situation. Meanwhile, there was so much here to learn and explore. Aldara had always had an adventuresome streak, though it had been muted by marriage and the birth of her daughter. And she missed little Daanna desperately, her arms feeling the absence of her beloved child, her heart missing the comfort of the baby's bright smile. But another part of her exulted in the excitement of this trip. This world was so different, so alive, so full of curious sights and sounds and smells. She wanted to drink it all in, to touch and explore it all. There was an element of fear too. But that emotion merely made the exultation headier. Scully's presence, and the knowledge that they would soon see Mage Mulder, was all the reassurance she needed. She trusted the other woman utterly, and Scully's easy calm in the middle of all this apparent chaos was all the security she could have asked for. If Scully said it was safe, then Aldara simply accepted that fact and moved on. Actually, Aldara couldn't take her mind off the car ride. She had watched Scully maneuver the metal wagon at great speed with increasing curiosity and no slight amount of envy. Too have such power under your control, to be able to go at such speeds without fear, Aldara tingled at the thought. It was far, far better than riding a swift horse, even the best of the elven-raised stallions. She itched to get a chance to try it herself, and was soon trying to figure out how to talk Scully into teaching her. She knew they had to find Andalor first, the Prince's safety took priority, but maybe, after he had been found, they might have time... "Sorry that took so long," Scully's voice interrupted both of her friend's thoughts. "But we're all set now. I've got our tickets, we just need to walk to the gate." "Gate?" Jourdain questioned, he had thought they were going to ride some big bird. A Gate sounded like a much better idea. It took Scully a moment to figure out his response, then she shook her head. "Not a magical gate, Jourdain. Just the place we have to go to get on the right airplane." "Oh," Jourdain tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice as he got up to tower over both women. But his reaction was covered by his wife's excitement. "I can't believe we're actually going to fly through the air. I've watched the falcons fly and often wondered what it would be like to glide through the air so smoothly. Will we each get a bird, or are they big enough to carry all three of us?" This last question was accompanied by a darting glance at Jourdain's grim face. Scully laughed, as she gestured towards a large staircase, then turned to walk towards it. "It's big enough to carry all three of us and about forty other people as well. Think of the airplane as a kind of flying car, with giant wings." "Forty?" Aldara gasped as she hurried after Scully. "It must be HUGE!" "Yes, it is," Scully said. "You'll see soon enough." Scully caught the glimmer of unease on Jourdain's face, and she tried to reassure him quickly. "Don't worry, though. This way of travel is safer than driving in a car." Jourdain accepted her attempt to ease his mind, though he found that hard to believe. But Scully seemed so much at ease, as did everyone else hurrying down the long hallways. If so many people could do this, then he supposed he could as well. They weeded their way through the crowds of people, Scully leading the way through a big room with vaulted ceilings and rows of seats in the middle. The edges were lined with small shops, from some of which wafted tantalizing smells. Aldara looked in the direction of one corner stall that contained many small tables, and her stomach growled unmercifully. Scully threw her a sympathetic look, but her watch confirmed the need to get to the gate. "We'll be given breakfast on the flight," she said, gaining a smile of appreciation from Aldara. Then the petite red-haired woman pulled to an abrupt halt, her lovely features settling into a slight frown. "What's wrong?" Jourdain asked anxiously. Scully turned and looked them both over, her eyes intense. Then she reached out to take their arms and lead them off to the side, so that they were more isolated from the flow of traffic. "What is it, Scully?" Aldara asked, staring around her alertly, ready for the slightest sign of danger. Scully caught the poise of her friend's body, and pressed a restraining hand onto her shoulder. "Nothing's wrong, it is just that they have certain rules about what can be brought aboard the planes." "What kind of rules?" "No weapons of any kind. Well, they will make an exception for me, because...I carry a permit that allows me to keep mine, but no one else is allowed to bring a weapon aboard. The guards there," she pointed to the security gate, through which people were passing one by one under the eagle-eyed scrutiny of men in uniforms. "They will arrest you if you try to go through with a weapon on you. Jourdain..." He nodded, not liking the idea of losing the security of his knives, but he recognized that Scully knew her world better than he did. The last thing they needed was to be thrown into a dungeon for breaking the laws of this place. Aldara frowned, her green eyes sparking. She liked this even less than her husband. She hadn't been without a weapon close at hand since she was old enough to sneak out into the forest alone. And that had been far younger than even her parents realized. "I wish there was another way, but you are going to have to give me anything that could pass as a weapon. I'll have to check in with the guards anyway, and sign some papers, before they will let me through. I'll put your knives in my bag, and you can have them back when we reach Washington. I promise you'll be safe on the plane. No one is allowed to bring a weapon, so no one can be harmed." Aldara still hesitated, but Jourdain sighed and reached for his belt knife, then for the one strapped to his arm, and finally for the one in his left boot. Scully accepted all three, with a half-smile, then turned to Aldara. The weaponry expert still frowned, but she gave in and started handing over the knives she was carrying. After she had handed Scully five, she stood back. Scully dropped the blades into the bag, then gave Aldara a suspicious look. Aldara returned her friend's glare with wide, innocent eyes, but Scully was not fazed. "Hand it over, Aldara." Jourdain added his glare to Scully's, making Aldara sigh grievedly. Reaching up, she undid the large metal bracket holding her hair off her face, and twisted it. From underneath the big clasp came a small, sharply pointed silver needle. With a frown she handed it over to Scully. "Is that all?" Scully asked, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. "Yes," Aldara replied, feeling suddenly naked without her knives. Jourdain wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she settled against his side gratefully. Scully turned slightly to the side, obstentiously closing her small suitcase, but actually to give them the appearance of some privacy. After a moment, she turned back to see Jourdain nuzzling the top of his wife's dark curly hair. "We'd better get going," Scully said, her full mouth curved up into a gentle smile. They both nodded gravely, and followed her. - - - - - Scully felt like she was holding her breath until they finally got onto the plane. Jourdain had the same trouble Mulder did on airplanes, the seats were not made to comfortably accept someone of his size. So Scully squeezed into the window seat, letting Aldara take the middle and Jourdain the aisle. At least it would give him the sense of more space. Both Realm citizens had been very silent as they boarded the plane, and had watched the stewardess give her safety lecture intently. Scully wasn't certain how much of it they had understood, but she knew better than to underestimate either's intelligence. Jourdain was taciturn and solid, but he had a sharp intellect under that muscle-bound exterior. And Aldara was as quick of mind as she was of temper. Scully just hoped it hadn't frightened them too much. Giving them both a bright smile, she settled back in her seat and waited for take-off. If they survived that, they could probably handle almost anything else this world had to offer, or so she hoped. - - - - - Aldara squirmed in her seat, her mind focused on the bag resting beneath Scully's feet. The half-elven warrior hated being without her knives; even in her own home, they were never far from her side. Jourdain had sometimes teased her about sleeping with a knife under the pillow, but he was battle-experienced enough to understand her need to keep a weapon close at all times. Well, at least the knives weren't too far away, and Scully had promised to return them to her as soon as they arrived in Washington. Aldara couldn't help being pleased at the idea of seeing Mulder again. Memories washed over her as the beast they were seated within stirred to life. Closing her eyes, she remembered her first meeting with the foreign magician, causing a small smile to play at the corners of her lips. She had been hostile to him at first, yet he had surprised her again and again. Mulder had been so different from any Mage she had met before, and she had come to care deeply for the quirky, unusual man with his odd sense of humor and easy-going manner. Beneath that quiet exterior was tempered steel, Aldara knew well. But she also knew the goodness of his heart, and trusted it completely. He was the first Mage she had considered a true friend, and would always be the only one she had no fear of. Well, except maybe for her own daughter... The beast they were seated within stirred loudly to life, causing Aldara to jerk upright in her seat. She glanced over at Scully and received another reassuring smile. Aldara returned it as best she could, then tried to settle back in her seat as the plane began to move. - - - - - They moved slowly at first to Jourdain's relief. He could feel the power of the beast below them, the very chair he sat in vibrated with its roar. The thunderous whine of the magic bird pounded at his ears, while his stomach lurched within his belly. But everyone around him seemed utterly relaxed. People were talking, reading from shiny parchment and books, some even falling to sleep. A child screamed, then was shushed by its mother. A pair of young girls giggled and whispered in the seats across the spare walkway. The beast lurched to the side, causing his breath to catch in his lungs. He could feel the giant bird turning, almost sense its wings expanding and preparing for flight. Then bells sounded from above, and a voice spoke out of the air. "Welcome to flight 1457 to Washington D.C. This is Captain John Harris, with me is Second Officer Rick Eldridge. We are next in line for departure. Flight attendants please prepare for take-off." The bells chimed again, then Jourdain could hear the flow of air changing, and the sound of the beast deepen. Taking Aldara's hand in his, he squeezed her fingers tightly. She turned and smiled bravely at him, then they both sank back in their seats as the giant creature began to pick up speed. Jourdain closed his eyes, feeling pinned back into the seat as he felt a powerful force push them forward and then upward. The sound climbed in intensity, drawing a throaty cry from his throat as they were lifted up into the air at incredible speed, leaving the ground far below. Holding his breath, almost certain that they were going to crash and break into a thousand pieces, Jourdain prayed harder than he had ever done before. As time went on, and nothing more happened, he slowly began to breathe again. Still holding onto Aldara's small, calloused hand, he found himself thinking about his other friends who had come into this strange and terrifying world. He could only hope they were somewhere safe and well. End Chapter Five =========================================================================== Chapter Six Part A "AAAAAGHOOOOOFFF!" The three voices sounded as one as they fell together in a heap among the reeds. They sprawled there, motionless for a time, doing mental inventories of their body parts and trying to still the dizziness. Slowly, the realization came upon them that they were on soft but very wet ground. One by one they pulled themselves up to a sitting position. Tarnor was the first to stand, and stripped off his dripping jacket. "Where have you landed us, Professor? I see none of the speeding machines that you warned us about. In fact, I see nothing but these reeds and this bog and these insects. Pahh! It's as hot and steamy as Corvay's workroom on a summer day - and it smells almost as bad!" The two older men rose slowly, helping each other to stand. Reinald winced as he tried to put weight on his right leg. "Reinald, are you all right?" inquired the Professor anxiously. He helped the Mage to sink down once again on the swampy ground. "Yes, Professor, I will be fine. Although I must admit that I did not anticipate having to use Corvay's medicines quite so early in our adventure." From a packet in the sack he carried he took some powdery green material and sprinkled it into his flask. Closing the flask, he shook it vigorously, then opened it and drank the contents with a fierce grimace. "Let me sit for five minutes and all will be well. So Professor, this is your world - do you have any idea where you have landed us?" Neumann stretched to his full height and gazed around him. Much taller than Tarnor, he could see over the reeds. Unfortunately, all he saw was more reeds, some shrubs and cypress trees, and areas of ground that were even wetter than the one they occupied. He swatted ineffectively at the cloud of mosquitoes and gnats which surrounded his head, and squatted down to be on an equal level with Reinald and still avoid the boggy ground. "Judging by the heat and the insects and the topography, I'd say we were in a big swamp," the Professor said helpfully. Tarnor snorted. The fact that the insects could not penetrate his leathery skin was not stopping them from trying, and he was in constant, frenzied motion, slapping and swatting at the persistent pests. "I think I could have figured that out, Professor Neumann, and I am not even a native of your world. How far is this swamp from Mulder and Scully? And how do we get out of here?" "How far is it from Washington depends strongly on which swamp it is. There are several it could be within the 2000 or so kilometer margin for error we have. Let's see, we could be in Louisiana in the north easternmost part of the Bayou country, or we could be in Florida in the Everglades, or we could be in Georgia in the Okeefenokee - I think those would be my best guesses. And I think I tend toward the latter two, judging by the openness of the area. As to your second question, Tarnor - I really don't have a clue how to get out of here," Neumann admitted. "I have spent most of my life in cities. Now I know why I have done so." Shuddering, he batted away a prehistorically large insect which had drawn a bead on his ankle, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "I know very little of swamps, other than that they are wet and are crawling with bugs and snakes and alligators and other revolting creatures. And even that is more than I ever wanted to know about swamps." His knees aching, the Professor lowered himself onto the boggy ground with a disgusted expression. For a time all that could be heard was the distant call of some bird, the slapping of their hands on their bodies in a vain attempt to kill attacking insects, and some very ominous slithering sounds in the reeds not far away from them. No one uttered a word, each keeping his misery to himself. The Mage looked with affection at his companions, and started to smile. Soon, the smile became a grin. And then Reinald began to laugh out loud, his sides shaking and tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks. In spite of his discomfort, Neumann smiled over at the Mage. "Exactly what did Corvay put in that medicine, Reinald? And when can I have some?" Then he started to chuckle himself. Tarnor looked at both of them as if they had gone mad. The Professor's words and Tarnor's expression sent Reinald off in a new fit of giggles. With an effort, he brought himself under control and sat gasping for a few moments. Finally, when he could speak, the Mage apologized to his companions. "I'm truly sorry," he said, a final chuckle still threatening to escape his lips. "I was suddenly struck by the absurdity of our situation - a brilliant scientist and two powerful magicians stuck in what is possibly the only situation that we are all ill-equipped to handle." He giggled again, then sobered. "And I may indeed have to speak to Corvay concerning the side effects of his concoctions. All right, now. What can we do? I'm open to suggestions." But no one had a plan to suggest. Again they sat in silent misery for a several minutes. "What I wouldn't give to have Mulder here with us. With his eidetic memory, he would be able to recall every map he had ever read and would be able to get us out of here," Neumann said mournfully, obviously unaware of Mulder's poor innate sense of direction. "I drove down through the South once several years ago. If I could only remember...I know I passed near the Okeefenokee Swamp when I was driving through southeast Georgia, and I was on a main road. Let's see, the sun is there... so we must be....and the road is...." The Professor looked up into the white-hot sky, then turned his head in all directions. Finally he gave up in frustration. "Well, if we stay here, we'll be eaten alive by the insects, or worse. And no one's likely to just stumble across us here. We have to move." He stood up and peered around him. "All right, the ground looks more solid that way," he said pointing at right angles to the direction of the sun. "We might as well go in that direction. Tarnor, you have the be st hearing of all of us - let us know if you hear anything strange. Very well, are we ready?" The sorry trio got to their feet and, with jackets and packs in hand, started slogging their way through the swamp. The boggy ground pulled at their feet, releasing them only reluctantly with a moist sucking sound and making every step an effort. The longest and one of the most unpleasant hours the Professor ever spent carried them less than a mile on their journey. The heat and humidity were overwhelming. Before they had even begun their exertions, the Professor and Reinald were clammy with sweat. In half an hour, their clothes were wringing wet, their faces red from the strain. All over their exposed skin, welts from dozens of insect bites were starting to appear. For the most part they walked in silence, needing every bit of their energy to propel themselves forward. The Professor cast an anxious glance at his companions. The Realm never became this hot and humid, and none of the three was used to these conditions. He was especially worried about Tarnor. From what he had observed, the little gargoyle was not sweating. Indeed, he very likely was physiologically incapable of doing so. Neumann was extremely concerned about the prospect of heat stroke for all of them, but since the body's major cooling mechanism was perspiration, he was especially anxious about how Tarnor was physically coping with the conditions. The gargoyle, for his part, was doggedly marching, keeping up with the rest of them, but wavering and stumbling occasionally. He was suffering too much even to grumble about it. "I know we haven't made much progress, but I think we need to have a rest stop," the Professor declared. He looked around for a likely spot and saw some logs lying by a wall of tall reeds in the distance. "Over there!" The party made its way over to the logs, preparing to drop gratefully onto them when Tarnor shouted. "No! Our way is cursed!" he cried. "An evil mage has been here to cast a spell. He has made these logs come to life - I can hear them breathing!" At Tarnor's shout, some of the "logs" were startled into wakefulness, most of them slipping into the deep water beyond the reeds. The biggest, however, stood its ground, whipping its massive head toward them and emitting a hellish hiss. "By the gods!" said Reinald, his voice a hoarse whisper, his eyes wide and never leaving the gaping maw of the beast. In a low voice and moving scarcely a muscle, Neumann said, "No evil mage has been here. Remember I mentioned alligators earlier? This is a gigantic example of the species. He must be fourteen feet long. Not to put undue pressure on you, gentlemen, but I have read that alligators can sustain surprising speeds for short distances when in pursuit of prey. I strongly believe that we risk becoming lunch for this fellow unless we remove ourselves with all due swiftness." "Are you saying that this beast would actually EAT us? What sort of a land have you brought us to, Professor?" rasped Tarnor. "I suggest that we discuss that later, my friend. At this point, it would behoove us to start taking very cautious steps backward - immediately." The three slowly began to move backwards. The alligator began to move slowly in a forward direction. They increased their pace. The alligator matched it. Suddenly, Reinald stretched out his arms, stood completely still and started murmuring in Old Realm, the language of most of his spells. The beast also stopped and closed its mouth on a very impressive show of teeth. Its eyes became glazed. A few minutes later, Reinald said softly to the others, "I believe we can move back safely now. I have entranced the creature. But make no sudden moves or loud noises." The Mage staggered a bit, and briefly put a shaky hand to his head. "Reinald?" the Professor whispered hoarsely, alarmed. The Mage gratefully accepted Neumann's supporting arm. "It's all right, my friend. It appears that my use of magic here will be accompanied by some physical effects that I could do well without. Gods, but I feel weak, and my head hurts! No matter - the beast will not stay somnolent forever, we must move back now. "But Reinald..." began Tarnor. "Not now, Tarnor, just continue to move back. That's right," the Mage said, as they moved away from the dazed beast. "Mage, I think you should know-", Tarnor whispered urgently, until a sharp look from Reinald silenced him. He shrugged his shoulders and continued stepping backwards. A few seconds later an annoying sound, something between a buzz and a whine, could be faintly heard in the distance. Soon, it was apparent that the sound was coming closer. The alligator began to stir. "What the hell is that?" asked a tense Neumann, eyes on the alligator. "It's the sound I was trying to tell you about," snapped Tarnor in a low voice. "I think we should pick up our pace, my friends. The spell I used is likely to give the beast a large headache, and his demeanor towards us will not be improved." Reinald turned away from the alligator and started to move as quickly as his weakness and the boggy ground would allow, followed by his companions. The buzzing noise was getting louder, and the creature was moving faster in pursuit of them, making, in fact, better progress over the distance than the three travellers. The Professor chanced a look over his shoulder. "Faster, Tarnor! Faster, Tarnor. He's gaining on us!" he yelled, straining for breath. The trio redoubled their efforts but did not speed up significantly, and the alligator was now just a few meters behind them. Suddenly with a deafening cacophony, an airboat edged its way through the reeds not far to their left. Neumann grabbed Tarnor by the shoulder and began pulling him toward the craft, waving his free arm to Reinald to signal him to follow. The operator of the boat lost no time in taking in their situation, grabbed a long pole, and used it to keep the beast at bay while the three scrambled on board. Then he restarted the engine, reversed, and soon they were headed away. The alligator glowered from the bank. The Professor and Reinald both jumped at the same time as they remembered another danger. Glancing into each other's eyes, they quickly pulled Tarnor's jacket over his head. Unable to make themselves heard over the roar of the engine, they had to trust that their friend would realize why they were shielding him from view as much as possible. The Professor nudged his own water flask under the jacket, and in gestures, encouraged the little gargoyle to drink. He had no idea what normal body temperature was for a gargoyle, but suspected that Tarnor's far exceeded it and feared he was showing the first signs of heat stroke. He had to keep him hydrated until he could get into a cooler area. He settled back and watched the reeds rushing by as the airboat negotiated the waterways of the swamp. Now that the threat from the alligator was over, Reinald was contemplating his newest predicament - riding on this infernal cart which made more noise than a thousand Vortexes and which travelled too fast. Much too fast. The Mage closed his fingers around the side of the boat and held on for dear life, the wind whipping his long white hair across his face and blurring his vision Soon, signs of civilization - of a sort - began to appear. There were boats full of tourists and guides with loudspeakers, presumably extolling the virtues of the unique ecology of the swamplands. As they neared the shore, the inevitable souvenir and refreshment stands came into view. The operator cut the engines and in unexpected and welcomed quiet, the airboat drifted toward the dock. The boat was moored in a few seconds and the operator helped them onto the dock. Reinald shielded Tarnor as much as possible as the Professor gave the man their thanks for saving their lives. "No problem at all. What I want to know is - how did y'all git yourselves way out there? Y'all lose your boat or somethin' ?" "Ah, yes, something like that," replied the Professor. "Can you tell me - what is the name of the nearest town with a hotel, and is there some way to get transportation there?" The man eyed them appraisingly. He was a thin but wiry man of medium height, with dark, slightly over-long hair, bright blue eyes and a two-day growth of beard. He evidently decided favorably, for he stuck out a somewhat grimy hand and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Bobby Joe Murtry. I'm headed back to Waycross myself. If y'all don't mind ridin' in the back of a pickup, then y'all are welcome to come along with me." "Yes, yes, that would be wonderful. As you can see, we're in a bit of a fix here," the Professor smiled nervously. "Okay, well, that's mine, parked over there," he said, leading them across the broilingly hot parking lot. "Y'all don't come from around these parts, do you?" The Professor assisted Tarnor and then Reinald into the back of the pickup. "Now, hold on," he told them in New Realm. "It might get bumpy and will seem very fast to you, but it will be alright." Reinald looked like he was in a state of shock, but he gave Neumann a slight nod. Tarnor remained shrouded, except for two oddly shaped boot-clad feet which protruded from the coverings. Then the Professor and Bobby Joe climbed into the truck and they started for Waycross. Between the rifles mounted on the gunrack across the rear window, the Professor peaked back anxiously at his friends. Bobby Joe looked sidelong at the Professor. "Like I said, y'all don't come from 'round here." It was a statement rather than a question. The Professor smiled. "Very perceptive, Mr. Murtry. I originally come from Germany, but that was many years ago. I have lived in the North for some time. My name is Gunther Neumann, by the way." Murtry nodded noncommitally. "What about them? I never heard that language before." "Yes, well, that's a long story. The older gentleman is my, ah, cousin. He does speak some English, but it's rather difficult to understand him sometimes. He comes from, um, one of the old Iron Curtain countries." "Is he a Commie? I don't hold with Commies," said Bobby Joe, his expression darkening. He began looking for a place to pull over. "No! No, no, Mr. Murtry. In fact, these men are heroes! Why, my cousin was a contact for the CIA and helped to bring about the downfall of Communism in his country. He's even been decorated by the President for his work!" "You don't say! Well, how 'bout that." Murtry was plainly impressed by the calibre of people riding in the back of his truck. "Now what about the little guy? I didn't see too much of him when y'all were running from that gator, but Gunther, I gotta tell you, from what I did see he's one weird lookin' little mudsucker. No offense, mind." "Ah, no. No offense taken." The Professor's mind raced to put together a story Bobby Joe might believe. Then again, Bobby Joe appeared to be pretty gullible, if he had swallowed what the Professor had dished out so far. There - he had it! He put on a mournful expression. "He, too, is a hero, Bobby Joe - may I call you Bobby Joe?" Receiving the man's nod, he continued. "Yes, he was a valiant resistance fighter, but was captured when one of his group turned traitor. He was never a tall man, but he was as normal looking as you or I. But by the time he was released from their prisons, he, well -" the Professor broke off abruptly, as if overcome by emotion, and turned his head away from Murtry. "I'm sorry to bring up such terrible memories for you there, Gunther. I'll bet those Commie devils experimented on him. That'ud account for that weird gray skin, too. Well, I'm just real sorry to hear 'bout that, Gunther. Don't worry, I won't let on like we was talkin', okay? I wouldn't want the little guy to feel bad, now." He looked in the rear view mirror at the two in the back of his pickup. The remaining miles to Waycross the two maintained a companionable silence, which suited the Professor well. He managed to check out the date on a newspaper on the floor of the truck, satisfying himself that the vortex had transported them to the right timeframe, if not the right place. Soon, the truck pulled up in front of the Holiday Inn. For the first time, the Professor started looking around for his sack, realizing to his chagrin that he had not seen it since they had left the airboat. "Much as I would like to repay you for your kindness, Bobby Joe, I seem to have left my sack back there in the swamp. It had all our money in it. I do apologize." "Well, it was a pure pleasure givin' you gentlemen a lift. I wouldn't take any money for it even if y'all had any to give. Hey, what about the hotel - y'all goin' to be able to stay here? Y'all could come home with me but it might git a bit crowded." "If the proprietor will allow us to make a telephone call, I believe all difficulties should be overcome, Bobby Joe." "Well, that shouldn't be too much of a problem. I think my cousin Bettie should be on the desk today, I'll just go on in with y'all and have a word with her, how'd that be?" "That, Bobby Joe, would be outstanding." The Professor got out of the truck and quickly went to the rear to help Reinald and Tarnor out. He called to them in New Realm, but they seemed frozen. Finally, he clambered into the bed of the pickup, pried Reinald's fingers from the side of the truck and spoke softly to him until the Mage showed signs of reviving. "I feared we would be destroyed! I have never imagined moving that fast! The boat was bad enough, but this cart...." Reinald stared wide-eyed at Neumann. The Professor gave Reinald an affectionate, reassuring pat. "All things move fast in this world, my friend. Don't let it get to you - it's all right." He smiled. "How's Tarnor?" The shrouded figure mumbled something indistinguishable. "Well, the speed did cool things off a bit, and I was able to uncover his head partially for some of the journey. He's not well, though. When we get to an inn, I would like to be able to treat him." "We're at an inn, Reinald. You need to stay down and just wait here for a few minutes until I get us registered. Try to be inconspicuous, if you can." Receiving Reinald's nod, he watched as the Mage assisted the gargoyle to duck further down in the bed of the truck, then walked with Bobby Joe into the air-conditioned iciness of the hotel lobby. A bleached blond with too much make-up stood behind the desk. "Can I help - well, it's just you, Bobby Joe. I thought you was goin' gator huntin' in the swamp," she said. The man looked around nervously, and said in a loud voice, "Now Bettie, you got no call saying that. You know I'd never hunt gators in a protected wetland area. That's illegal." She looked at him sourly. "Who's your friend?" she asked, turning her attention to Neumann. "Well, that's why I'm here. This here's Gunther Neumann and I rescued him and a couple of his friends out in the swamp. They was bein' chased by Old Tom and probably woulda been his dinner if I hadn't come along." "Bobby Joe, I declare, you lie more every day - " "I assure you, madam, he is speaking the Gospel truth. He saved our lives." The Professor smiled his most charming smile. "Now I wonder if I can persuade you to allow me to make a collect telephone call. I would like to arrange some recompense for your hostelry in exchange for a night or two of lodging." "Huh? Oh, sure - phone's right over there," she pointed to a bank of telephones on the wall across from the reception desk. Neumann picked up the phone, dialed the number he had been given, and held his breath. So far, the journey had been difficult, but not nearly as difficult as it would get if they were unable to connect with "Mulder." "Oh, Mulder - thank the gods!" "Professor Neumann, is that you? Are you all right? Where are you?" "We are in the Holiday Inn in Waycross, Georgia." Briefly, the Professor told him about where they had arrived and their adventures up to that point. "But you see, Mulder, Tarnor needs some treatment - I believe he is dehydrated and suffering from early heat stroke - and I left my sack with all our money in it in the swamp." "No problem, Gunther. Ask the receptionist to come to the phone." A few words and a quick check of a credit card number finally brought a smile to Bettie's face. Then she handed the phone back to the Professor. "Gunther? You should be all set now. Get anything you need. I'll look into the fastest way to get there, but I've been to that area before, and it's tricky. I may just end up driving the whole way and save myself the frustration - not to mention the fact that I can't figure out for the life of me how we could get Tarnor on a plane. I have your number. Stay put until you hear from me, okay?" "Okay, Mulder. And Mulder? It's wonderful hearing your voice again." Mulder chuckled. "It's nice hearing yours, too, Professor. I don't mind saying that I was getting a bit worried. Scully left last night to get Aldara and Jourdain." "Oh, then they have arrived safely! Wonderful! Last night, you say - how very interesting. Perhaps the difference in the gel-flow of time can be explained by..." "Professor, you might want to think about that later and register now and get Tarnor out of sight." "Ah, yes, of course - first things first. Very well. We will stay here until we hear from you. Goodbye." -------------------------- End chpt 6 Part A -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Six Part B Neumann quickly completed the rest of the registration procedures, finding that Bettie's disposition had improved with the knowledge that a credit card with a stratospheric credit limit would cover the expenses. He bade goodbye to Bobby Joe and thanked him again, then took the flat plastic room key and found his friends. "Reinald, this way." He led the Mage and the shrouded form of Tarnor through the lobby to the elevators and pressed the button. Reinald looked around him and gaped open-mouthed at the wonders that he saw. "Professor, why is it so hot outside, but so cold in this dwelling?" Suddenly, the elevator doors opened. "Gods! That wall split in twain!" The Mage jumped back as if stung. The Professor switched to New Realm in an effort to diminish the attention they were drawing. "Try to be a tad less conspicuous, my friend. This is called an elevator. It will take us upstairs. Go inside." The trio got on, two of them very reluctantly, and the doors shut. With a slight jiggle and a hum, the elevator started ascending. "By the gods, a room that moves!" With a sigh, the Professor attempted to explain the use of an elevator and the mechanics behind it to the two Realm natives, even as he dragged them off the elevator and down the hallway to their room. He took the perforated plastic card and slipped it into a slot. In a second, a green light went on and the Professor opened the door. Reinald stood staring at the mechanism until pulled into the room by Neumann. "At last! Tarnor, we are alone, you may take your wrappings off," he said as he fastened the deadbolt and the chain lock on the door. With a disgusted grunt, the little gargoyle threw off the garments, then swayed and was steadied by Reinald. "Lie down upon the bed, friend, you are not well. At least beds in this land appear to be the same - a bit on the low side perhaps, but at least their function is discernible and there is no magic involved." Quickly, he took some packets of herbs from his sack and sorted them on the dresser. "Professor - please go outside and draw me some water." "Reinald, come with me," the Professor said with a sigh. He crossed to the bathroom and snapped on a light, causing Reinald to jump once again. Blinking at the brightness of the illumination, the Mage watched as the Professor went to an oddly shaped deep depression in the shelf, and turned a shiny metal knob. Instantly, water poured from a spout. "What magic is this?" he said, awed. "No magic, my friend," smiled Neumann. "Welcome to the world of modern plumbing. Turn this faucet, " he said, demonstrating, "and you will get cold water. Turn this one, and you will get hot. It's the same with the bathtub, there." "And what is this?" queried the Mage, pointing to the final remaining porcelain object. "Uh...that's for, uh...." The Professor hesitated. He had learned early on in his Realm stay that according to their complex rules of etiquette, those particular bodily functions were never mentioned, as opposed to the casual and earthy way that sexual matters were openly discussed. The Professor was trying, and failing, to find a polite way to answer Reinald's question when the Mage's face lit up, then reddened. "Ah - yes, Professor, point taken." Neumann was relieved. "Yes, quite so. And after, this...." and he pressed the glistening chrome lever. The Mage started at the sound but was soon fascinated, watching the swirling water disappear with a glugging noise, only to refill. Speechless, he looked over at Neumann and shook his head in wonder. Neumann unwrapped a glass and filled it with water, then added the herbs Reinald had set aside on the dresser. Raising the gargoyle's head, he helped him steady the glass as he thirstily gulped down the water and medicine. Tarnor's skin still felt abnormally hot, and had a dusky cast which the Professor had never before seen. He went back into the bathroom, brushing by Reinald who was still experimenting with the faucets, and began to fill the tub with slightly cool water. "Reinald, go get Tarnor undressed - we need to get him into the tub to lower his body temperature." The Mage turned all of his attention back to his stuporous protege, gently helping him out of his clothing and into the tub. Using the ice bucket, he repeatedly poured cool water over the gargoyle's head and large, hot ears. Finally, when Tarnor was beginning to shiver and his fearsome pointed teeth chatter, his companions hauled him from the tub, dried him off with soft towels, and tucked him into bed where he immediately fell asleep. Reinald quickly checked him, and recognized the normal, healing sleep that his friend was now in. Indeed, seeing Tarnor sleeping peacefully forcefully reminded the others of just how exhausted they were themselves. The Mage stretched out next to Tarnor and Neumann lay down on the other bed, and they were asleep in seconds. When Tarnor awoke, it was dusk, and he could hear the gentle snoring of his companions. Once again, he had a raging thirst, and a hollowness in his belly that reminded him that he hadn't eaten since they had left the Realm. He grabbed what looked to him like a strangely shaped crystal goblet from the wooden stand by the bed and drank down the water it contained. Feeling a little better and unable to control his curiosity, he wandered towards the bathroom to explore. As he flicked on the light as he had seen the Professor do, a piercing sound suddenly filled the room, pulsating insistently. "Aaeeeiiiiii !" The startled gargoyle fled the bathroom as the Mage jumped to his feet and peered around wildly for the source of the infernal din. The wind outside began to pick up as the Mage's shield wavered in his surprise and fright. The Professor rolled off the bed and grabbed the phone. "Hello? Oh, Mulder, it's you. No, no bother. We may have to peel Tarnor and Reinald off the ceiling, however." He looked over appraisingly at the two men who had collapsed on the bed but were still shaking, the Mage looking somewhat pale and drawn. He spoke to Mulder for a few more minutes, then replaced the receiver. "Gentlemen, that is the telephone - it makes that sound when someone is trying to contact you. Mulder is driving down to meet us, and will be here sometime tomorrow morning. In the meantime, we shall stay here." "Professor, is there food on your world, because right now I would fight that swamp beast for a crust of bread, " Tarnor complained. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loudly. Neumann chuckled. He crossed to the dresser where the room service menu rested. "What would you like - everything they have to eat is on this list, and we can order anything we want on Mulder's credit card." Reinald and Tarnor, heads together, studied the menu, asking the Professor for assistance with the more unfamiliar words, and for his opinion regarding the best choices. "I will have the 'mouth-watering Yankee pot roast with fresh garden vegetables and a delicious rich gravy'. And a 'fresh-baked crusty roll' and a 'delightful Burgundy with a full-bodied nose and a crisp finish'," said Tarnor, trembling with excitement and anticipation. "And I will have the 'delightful Chicken Cordon Bleu with country ham and melted cheddar cheese accompanied by oven-roasted potatoes and fresh garden vegetables'. And tea!" declared Reinald, salivating. "Don't set your expectations too high, gentlemen," the Professor said dryly. "Frequently the description on the menu is the best part of the meal." He phoned in the order, adding his own selection and hot fudge sundaes for dessert for all three of them. They spent the time waiting for their food in a thorough exploration of the visible wonders of the room - the 'crystal globes with the tiny fires in them', the water taps, the thermostat, and the commode. The digital clock fascinated them, as did the concept of having an accurate way to measure time. However, the hair dryer was not so impressive; Tarnor, who was virtually without hair, thought it rather silly, and Reinald, with flowing silver locks, did not disagree. Why bother with a magical device for something that the air and time did anyway? The only misadventure was when the two were trying out the various controls on the bathtub. Tarnor incautiously touched a lever and icy water shot from the shower head onto the unsuspecting Mage, who leapt up with an enraged howl. His mood was not helped by his companions' amusement at his predicament. The Mage's further discomfiture was avoided by an opportune knock at the door. The Professor stifled his chortles and closed the bathroom door, hiding the wet, glowering Mage and the giggling gargoyle from view. Then he ushered in the waiter, pushing his food-laden cart before him. The smell of the food wafted under the bathroom door, whipping Tarnor and Reinald into a frenzy of impatience. Finally, Neumann signed the check, adding a generous tip, and hurried the waiter out the door. The next second, Tarnor and Reinald burst out of the bathroom, dancing around Neumann as he checked under the shiny domes on the plates to distribute their meals. If the Realm natives found the food strange, there was no sign of it. Even the fastidious Tarnor displayed all the manners of a troll. Once they had finished their main course, the Professor smiled, handed them spoons and passed their sundaes to them. Reinald was so startled he nearly dropped his dish. "It's cold!" he exclaimed. "And warm!" as he tasted the dark rich chocolate sauce. "And sweet and wonderful! What IS this, Gunther?" The Professor's grin broadened. "I thought you might like it - it's called a hot fudge sundae. It happens to be the one thing I missed from this world when I was in the Realm. How about you, Tarnor?" The gargoyle, a dollop of whipped cream on his nose, merely nodded and never missed a beat as he gobbled down his sundae. When all the plates and bowls and spoons had been licked clean, the three men sat back, Tarnor rubbing his stomach contentedly. "Wonderful, wonderful," Reinald murmured. "Professor, the food here alone is worth the trip. Worth the swamp beast and the speeding machines and the moving rooms, and even worth the chamber waterfall. Hot fudge sundae, is it? I will have to remember that - perhaps devise a spell to recreate this wonder when we get back home." Stomachs full and still tired from the extraordinary events of the day, the men took their turns in the bathroom, then settled down for the night. Reinald and Neumann were sleeping peacefully within minutes, but Tarnor was too excited by their adventure to sleep. He reached out onto the night stand and his hand struck a sort of wand with buttons on it. Ever curious, he brought it closer to his eyes to try to discern what kind of a device it might be, randomly hitting buttons, to see what would happen. Suddenly, a blinding light dazzled him and his ears were assailed by the loudest music that he had ever heard. Reinald fell out of bed and started the third weather disturbance of the night, while the Professor sat bolt upright, his hands to his ears in a vain attempt to block the din. He finally reached over and grabbed the device from Tarnor, and held a button down. The sound diminished to acceptable levels, only to be replaced by the ringing of the phone. Impatiently, the Professor grabbed it. "No, sorry, it was an accident - it won't happen again, I assure you." Tiredly, he hung up, rubbed his face with his hands, and looked over at his companions. Tarnor was sitting transfixed, an expression of awe upon his face. Reinald, after reasserting his controls once again, was also gazing at the source of the light and sound. The Professor sighed. "It's called television. I had hoped to spare you from it," he said resignedly. "But what is it? Is this really happening? Look! Look at those beings!" breathed Tarnor, as Lando Calrissian piloted his craft into the midst of the Death Star to the appreciative audience of beings back at Headquarters. Suddenly, Tarnor did not feel quite so out of place. One question led to another. For the next two hours, Neumann attempted to satisfy his friends' curiosity about television, movies, cable, networks, fantasy and reality. Head aching, he gave up when the channel surfers' questions turned to MTV. "Gentlemen, I'm finished. I will not even attempt to explain what you will see and hear on MTV. I'm going to sleep, and I strongly advise that you do the same. He lay down and purposefully rolled on his side, turning his back on the television screen. - - - - - When the Professor rose the next morning, his friends were snoring. He knew that they had been awake well past 3 a.m., utterly entranced by their newest discovery. He tiptoed into the bathroom and had his first shower since going to the Realm. He luxuriated in the steamy water cascading down on him for so long that he experienced a twinge of guilt, feeling he must surely have used the whole hotel's supply of hot water for himself. Toweling off and making good use of the complimentary toiletries, he shaved and brushed his teeth. Opening the door, billows of steam escaped with him to the bedroom. With not a little distaste, he pulled on his clothes from yesterday. Rinsing them in the sink last night had removed only a modicum of the pungent swampy odor, and they were still slightly damp. He had just finished dressing when there was a soft tap at the door. "Mulder! How good to see you!" He wrapped his arms around the younger man. Mulder awkwardly hugged the Professor, never very comfortable with such expression of affection. Breaking the embrace, he peered at Neumann's face. "You look different, but good. How long do you estimate you've been gone?" he asked in a low voice, spotting the sleeping forms of the others. "Well, in Realm time it's been a little over seven years, but just a few months in your time, as far as I can tell." Mulder regarded him for a few seconds. He seemed fitter somehow, not muscular by any means, but sturdier. He looked tired, too, and Mulder told him so. "Yes, the last few days have been a bit worrisome, trying to find Andalor in space and time, and trying to contact you and devise plans and all. And there's a bit of guilt, too, I suppose. If I hadn't been experimenting, the boy never would have been able to run away. Not this far, anyway," the Professor finished grimly. "Let's go down and have some breakfast and you can bring me up to date, Professor Neumann. They look like they'll probably sleep for a while longer." The pair closed the door on their friends and went downstairs, signing the bill and completing most of the checking-out process at the reception desk on their way to the restaurant. The Professor marveled at Mulder's effect on women, as he charmed Bettie in person even more than his credit status had. Entering the restaurant, they sat in a remote booth and consumed a huge breakfast, including the inevitable grits. The Professor sipped gratefully at his scalding hot coffee. "Well, maybe there was something else I missed about this world," he said, smiling. Mulder grinned. "I know, I felt the same way." The two exchanged reminiscences and Realm experiences, and the Professor briefed Mulder on the events leading up to Andalor's running away. Finally, glancing at his watch, Mulder said, "We'd better get back up there. We don't know what trouble they may be getting into." The Professor smiled ruefully. "I have some experience of that. Believe me, you don't WANT to know." The elevator doors had just opened to the second floor when a piercing shriek split the air. With a feeling of apprehension, the two set off at a trot for the Professor's room, their worst fears realized when they spotted the housekeeping cart outside. A second later, a housekeeper in an advanced state of distress streaked out of the room, her scream demonstrating the Doppler effect quite nicely as she rushed past them and down the hall. "Tarnor must be up," Mulder said mildly, then he dashed into the room. "Okay guys, I think a little speed is called for here. We seem to have outworn our welcome. Yes, Reinald, it's wonderful to see you again, too, but I think we can save this for the car. Everyone here? All right, down the back stairs to the car, as fast as you can." Actually, Mulder was fairly sure the hefty gratuity he had added to his bill might buy him a little time, but it was stupid to take chances. Reinald and Tarnor dived into the back seat of the car - just as soon as Mulder opened the door for them. The Professor jumped into the passenger seat. Mulder started the car and moved smoothly away from the Holiday Inn and Waycross, Georgia. End of Chapter 6 =========================================================================== Chapter Seven Holding the P200 with a steady hand, Dr. Mather aimed a tiny droplet at the center of the "V" on the hemacytometer and slowly pressed down her thumb. Just as the bright blue, cell-rich fluid was rushing to fill the space beneath the coverslip, an insistent voice disturbed her concentration. "Well, Doctor?" Damn! Her hand slipped just a little too far, the pipette-tip flipping up the small piece of glass and sending it clattering onto the lab bench. Furious, she spun on her heels. "Perhaps if you didn't interrupt me in the middle of my work, I *might* have some results," she said, each word clipped and cold. Then deliberately turning her back, she rescued the errant coverslip, replacing the pipetteman into its rack. Reaching to the left, she picked up the plastic squirt bottle of ethanol and threw a vigorous stream over her wasted sample. Her movements were spare and precise, all tuned to shut out the man staring implacably at her back. Gordon waited calmly for her to finish cleaning up, preparing a new sample and loading it onto the small plastic grid. As she placed it under the inverted microscope and bent over the eyepiece, cell counter in hand, he walked around to the side, pulled over a rolling chair and perched himself on it. He hadn't gone to the trouble of 'obtaining' Dr. Mather's invaluable services, without being willing to be patient for her to finish... within reason. Watching the thin, blond fortyish woman as she gazed intently into the eyepiece of the complicated - and obscenely expensive - piece of equipment, he mentally reviewed her qualifications. A doctorate in quantum physics, supplemented by a masters in medical diagnostics. Several years experience in utilizing lasers and magnetic resonance generators to diagnose disease, riding on the cutting edge of modern medical technology. Then the sudden move to Dimensional physics under Dr. Neumann - which had been a surprising demotion in both authority and responsibility. It was also the primary reason that he had desired her services. And though it had taken some serious effort on his part, it was his discovery of the very cause of her abrupt career change that had given him the leverage he needed to 'persuade' her to accept his offer of employment. Gordon smiled to himself, a expression that had all the subtlety of a wolf baring its teeth - the instant before it jumped its prey. Karen Mather stilled the shiver that raced with icy fingers up her spine as she turned to catch the edge of his grin. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to stand erect and composed. "All right, Gordon, what do you want?" she asked with open hostility. "The boy's blood work. Did you find anything?" This brought a small smile to her lips as she paused to consider her answer. "You could say that," she said casually, leaving him hanging as she walked down the length of the lab bench and picked up a black-bound notebook. Writing in it, she casually angled her head around to meet the ice of his eyes. "In fact, his blood contains a number of anomalies, including at least one cell type I have been unable to identify as yet." "What! Are you sure?" he leapt to his feet, a small level of excitement petering through his impassive demeanor. Without speaking, she gave him a look that said quite clearly that, of course, she had not made a mistake. Gordon wasn't fazed. "Is he alien?" he demanded intently. Dr. Mather frowned, then shook her head. "I can't say either way at this point. He's close enough to being human to pass all but the most detailed examination. Yet his cell counts are all off. The white blood cells are too numerous, and the ratios of their types are all out of kilter. His red blood cells have some odd morphology, as do his T and B cells. At first glance, cell chromosome smears look ordinary enough, though he has some banding patterns I've never seen before. But I'm hardly an expert on molecular genetics. I've got a lab tech working on some RFLP analysis, and another is sequencing some known genes. But it will be a while before we have the results." "How long?" She shook her head. "A few days, maybe the first set of results late tomorrow. In the meantime, a more complete physical examination of the boy would probably yield more information. I'd also like to get him in for X-Rays, and maybe a CAT scan. Though that would mean moving him somewhere with the necessary equipment." Gordon frowned. He wanted the answers, but the logistics of moving the boy while keeping it under wraps could prove to be a nightmare. "Do the physical exam with what you have available here. I'll let you know about the X-Rays and CAT scan later." With that, he was gone. Karen Mather leaned back against the lab bench and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She found herself pinching her arms tight against her chest. Even though he never laid a finger on her, Gordon always made her feel like she was steeped in filth. Even the air in the room seemed contaminated, as she drew it into her struggling lungs. She felt, again, like an animal in a trap. There had to be a way to get out, a way to free herself and her... No, those thoughts could lead to disaster. Gordon's threats had been real, she believed them utterly. Just as when she had been a child and it had been her father who had been threatened. Now she was the adult, and it was *her* child who was threatened. Her precious child... - - - - - Shannon paced the tiny room incessantly, partially out of need, partially because she knew it annoyed her cellmate. The boy was spread out on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a pained look of utter exasperation on his face. Shifting, he rolled onto his side and cradled his head in the crook of his arm, emitting an exaggerated sigh. His cellmate threw him a look of irritation, then plopped herself down on her bed to lay staring at the ceiling. One, two, three...sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two... She had counted the small brown spots in the ceiling tiles a thousand times. Laying in that exact same position, she had studied the patterns of the tiny specks over and over, like a child seeing shapes in the clouds of the summer sky. Except that here there was no sun and no sky, just the dull dreary little room with its too-familiar shadows and cold floor. Finally, out of boredom, she turned on her side and gazed bleakly at her companion. "So, 'Prince,' what's your name again?" He drew his feet up under him, and twisted into a sitting position. Swiping the longish blond hair out of his eyes, he answered simply. "Andalor." "That's a funny name," she replied, ignoring the flash of irritation on his face as she sat up to lean against the wall facing him. "I think I'll call you Andy." Andalor frowned. "My name is Andalor," he enunciated each syllable proudly. "It was my grandfather's name. He was a great warrior King." "Unh huh - Sure, Andy," Shannon answered. Though at this point, she was bored enough to be willing to listen to his fantasies. Better that than re-reading one of the few books she had been able to get her captors to give her. Throwing the pile of romance novels and spy thrillers a disgusted glance, she angled her head at Andalor. "Are they holding you for ransom or something?" she asked. "I don't know." Andalor bit at his lower lip, frowning in concentration. "Considering how annoyed they were when I fell through the vortex, I don't think they planned on my arrival." It took every bit of self-control he had, but he managed not to let his fear show as he spoke the next thought. "I think I made a mistake letting them know I'm a friend of Mage Mulder's. They are obviously his enemies, and I'm worried they may try to use me to hurt him. Not that they will succeed." Andalor brightened up, his voice ringing out. "Mulder is too powerful and too smart to let them win." Shannon frowned, though she didn't understand all of it, she did know that name. She had heard it in conversations between her mother and that slug Gordon. "Mulder?" she said thoughtfully. "Isn't he some kind of fed?" "Fed?" Andalor shook his head, as that word was not within his grasp of English. The Professor had told him his English was excellent, but apparently it wasn't as good as he had thought. "He's the most powerful magician I've ever seen. More powerful even than my Regent, Reinald." Shannon thought that trying to communicate with this nutcase was like trying to see clearly through stained glass, everything was distorted and out-of-shape, but if you looked very carefully, there were some small focused areas that came clear. Mulder was obviously important, the hatred that Gordon felt for the mysterious man had been obvious, as had her mother's respect. Not that Shannon respected her mother, but she knew Karen was smart and that she was only working for Gordon because he was holding Shannon. So if Andalor did know this Mulder, and this Mulder was someone who could irritate Gordon, then maybe he could prove useful. "Tell me more about Mulder," she asked, her dark amber eyes glinting with interest. Andalor brightened instantly. Talking about his hero was something he could do gladly and at length. - - - - - - Shannon had to admit that Andy spun a fascinating tale, she especially loved the parts about the battle with the evil creatures, as well as about the warrior women, Aldara and Scully. Closing her eyes, Shannon faded into a wonderful daydream... Riding on a swift black horse, swinging her six-foot long sword, she raced into the enemy stronghold to rescue her imprisoned lover. Men fell around her, blood spurting from their wounds as she grew closer and closer to the stockade where his tall, muscular frame was chained... "Shannon! Shannon!" An insistent voice broke into her thoughts, causing her to jerk upright. Crack! Her head hit the wall, and she swore viciously. "Damnit Andy, don't do that." Lifting her head, she saw him looking at her with an aggrieved look on his face. "You weren't listening," he accused. Wincing, she rubbed the back of her head, then contradicted him automatically. "I was, too, listening. But you talk too much." "I do not! Besides, you asked me." "I know - but that didn't mean you had to tell me your life story." "Well, if you weren't interested, you could have just said so." "I'm saying so now." They glared at each other, violet eyes clashing with honey brown. But before either could speak again, the door opened, causing their argument to vanish in the face of a common enemy. The two bulky men who entered the room didn't bother wasting any time achieving their ordered objective. Seizing Andalor by the arm, one dragged him off the bed and onto the floor, where he tumbled to his knees with a cry of outrage. "Let me go at once!" he insisted, his voice chiming with accustomed authority. Glaring at the men from her perch on her bed, Shannon almost called out her support, delighted to hear such courage from the strange youth. One of the men eyed her poised body with suspicion, as he stood blocking the doorway. He still had the marks from her last break-out attempt, a small semi-circle of reddened indentations along his right wrist. She had nearly broken through the skin, and he had no desire to experience her bite again. Shannon gave him a predatory smile, deliberately baring her smooth white teeth at him, watching for the slightest relaxation on his part. If only Andalor could distract them just enough... Refusing to ruin what was left of his dignity, Andalor struggled to his feet, giving the man who held him in a bruising grip a regal glare. "I can walk by myself, thank you," he hissed. "Move it," the man said blandly, yanking again on the boy's arm, eliciting a strangled gasp. But Andalor sucked in his breath, and forced his back up as straight as he could. Pushing forward, he stalked out of the room between the two guards. SLAM! The door swung shut, just as Shannon made a dive for the opening. She came up hard against the steel, the collision knocking her to the floor. Sprawled on the tile, the furious girl took a deep breath and let out a vehement, high-pitched scream. Silence answered. - - - - - This time Andalor was careful to try to mark his route through the winding corridors. But his efforts were wasted as they came up against another odd door in the wall at the end of a corridor. One of the men stabbed at a small round button on the wall, causing it to light up. Then there was a clanging sound within the wall itself, and suddenly, the wall split into two. Andalor backed up in surprise, but the guards simply hauled him through the opening, tossing him into the tiny room. He hit a metal railing in the back, then fell to his knees. By the time he had righted himself and turned around, the floor fell out from beneath his feet. Abruptly realizing why the metal rail was there, he grasped onto it and held on for dear life. His stomach turned over in his belly as he felt the small space slide downwards deep into the earth. Down and down they went, the two hulking men standing like stone, the boy, pale and trembling, clinging to the handrail. Finally, they stopped and the wall parted itself again, to reveal another corridor so alike to the one they had come from that Andalor wasn't certain if they had even moved at all. Only his dizziness, and the memory of feeling the world rise around him, remained to convince him they were not where they had been. "Move it," came the terse, almost bored command, and Andalor jumped to obey it, preferring not to be dragged around like a sack of horse feed. Dwarfed by his guards, the slender youth walked slowly down the white hallway, again letting his eyes flicker over every aspect of his surroundings. He noted instantly that there was a green streak on the walls instead of brown, and that the doors were spaced much further apart. An iron hand on his shoulder wrenched him backwards. "In here." A door opened, and he was propelled inside. - - - - - Dr. Mather looked up as the door swung open. Two of Gordon's thugs entered, pushing the wide-eyed blond youth in between them. Sighing, she stepped into the middle of the lab. "Put him over there," she told them, pointing at an available chair. When they had deposited the boy, they turned to stare at her with dead eyes. "You can go," she said dismissively. They hesitated, but she glared firmly at them, standing her ground. The larger of the two shrugged and headed for the door. His counterpart gave the implacable woman one last look, then followed. Only when the door was closed shut behind them, did she turn to Andalor. "Let's get this over with," she told him, reaching for a stethoscope. Inside she was seething, furious with Gordon for putting her in this position. She was not a qualified physician, yet he expected her to perform as though she was. Furthermore, she was expected to examine someone against his will. At least she had convinced the goons to wait outside, having them stare at her back would have only made a bad situation worse. Cursing under her breath, she attempted to approach Andalor. As she came closer, Andalor gazed at her warily, his bright amethyst eyes wide in his narrow face. He edged back in his seat, pulling his shoulders upright, attempting to regain some dignity. But she was all business, trying to get an unwanted, unpleasant task over with as soon as possible. "If you cooperate, this will be quick. I just need to do a simple physical exam. If you would take off your shirt..." Andalor shied backwards as she reached for him, giving her a frantic look. She sighed. "Look, don't make me have to get them back in here to do it for you. I just need to check your lungs and heart, and do some simple palpitations to check your kidneys and liver." Andalor frowned. He didn't understand, and didn't like the sound of the unfamiliar words. "Don't touch me." In a sudden fluid movement, he was up out of the chair and across the room. Dr. Mather took a deep breath and spun on her heels to face him. "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is. I'm not going to hurt you. I just have to..." Her eyes narrowed. Was it possible he truly didn't understand what she was about to do? If Professor Neumann's theories were correct and he was from a feudal society, he might have no conception of modern medicine. Thinking fast, she tried to take another tack. "What is your name?" she asked softly, halting in place. He stared at her for a moment, the spoke defiantly. "Prince Andalor." She nodded gravely. "Nice to meet you, Prince Andalor. My name is Doctor Karen Mather." He nodded politely in return, though his stance remained tense. "Prince...Andalor... I am what we here call a Doctor." Well, sort of... "That means I am responsible for keeping people healthy...for curing the sick." Ahh good, that got his attention, he apparently did understand that idea. "You're a healer?" he asked. "Yes," she replied. "And after all you've been through, I want to make sure that you are not hurt." "I'm fine," he said. She shook her head. "We don't fully know what happens to someone who has gone though the vortex. Wouldn't it be better to check?" He grimaced. She had a point, but he still didn't trust her. This room looked like a torture chamber. There were some similarities, it was true, to Corvay's chambers, such as the bottles and oddly-shaped cups full of liquids and powders, the space and utensils for mixing potions. But the rest of it was nightmarish. Blue light glowed out of a partially glass-enclosed cabinet along one wall. The long center bench was covered with oddly-shaped contraptions. Big square things, that looked almost like wardrobes, though made of unfamiliar materials, stood along the walls, humming like a hive of angry bees. The amount of power being utilized here was terrifying, and drove home the recognition that these were black magicians. Only they could throw power around so profligately - since they could drain it from their victims. A white Mage would never waste his own strength in such a way, and would never deign to stealing strength from others. "No!" he answered, his mouth thinning in a mixture of fear and anger. For all her suddenly kind words, this evil woman was planning to use him. Perhaps in a spell to catch Mulder. Andalor could not let her succeed. Before Dr. Mather could speak again, he charged her. Swiftly, he bolted out of his corner and knocked her flat. Whhomph, the breath rushed out of her lungs as he hit her. Groaning, she doubled over on the floor, twisting to stare up at him. He was poised on one foot, the other just off the floor, his hands held ready to strike. "Take it easy..." she started to say, but he was not about to allow her the chance to bespell him. Striking out with his foot, he connected hard with her side. And then again and again. She cried out, curling up into a ball on the floor. Andalor stared at the woman laying below him, his heart pounding. He'd never hit a woman before, unless you counted Aldara - and he didn't, since the half-elf was a better fighter than he'd ever be. Usually, she'd been the one hitting him. But this was different, this black magician didn't seem to be able to fight at all. Which might not be too surprising, as most powerful Mages relied on their magic to protect themselves. But why wasn't she attacking him magically? His eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. He knew the bulky guards were waiting just outside the door he had come through, so that wasn't an option. There were no other obvious doorways, and no windows. Spinning around, he studied the walls, praying for another way out. But there was nothing. The woman was stirring on the floor, beginning to pull up to a sitting position. He could hit her again, but then what? Closing his eyes, he finally turned to his eidetic memory, searching for something that could help him out of this mess. If only he had more magical ability. Reinald said that as he approached coronation, his abilities would increase, as he was invested with the mystical power of Kinship. So far, Andalor had seen little sign of such power, but then he'd never needed it like he did at this moment. YES! There was a spell he could do. He remembered watching Reinald do this one, and had tried it once himself in order to escape a particularly onerous troll ambassador. It had only half-succeeded then, leaving him semi-transparent for almost two days. Reinald had left him in that embarrassing state as a lesson. It wouldn't have been so bad, if he hadn't been able to see the contents of his own stomach. Shaking those memories aside, he tried to focus on the spell itself. He *had* to get it right this time. If he could only just concentrate... ------------------------ End Chpt7 Part A ----------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Seven Part B She could barely breath, her abdomen felt like it was bathed in fire. Each intake of air into her lungs sent shocks of pain across her chest and down into the pit of her belly. Cradling her side protectively, Karen remained huddled in a fetal position on the floor for an eternity of agony. At long last, the fireworks eased enough to allow her to lay back and slowly, her entire body braced for another assault. When the attack never came, she cautiously opened her eyes. The boy was standing a few feet away, his face screwed up into an intense look of concentration. His eyes were squeezed shut, his lips barely moving in time to the nonsensical, but musical whisper of his chant. His hands were by his sides, palms facing outwards, fingers spread wide, almost postulant in attitude, while his feet were planted square beneath his shoulders. The unintelligible sounds grew louder, his voice rising in pitch as well as a volume, until he screeched over the edge and fell flat. Then the slow whispering began again, rising faster this time, an edge of desperation coloring the sound. Her own groan mixing with the boy's singing, Karen managed to pull herself to her knees, and then to one foot without the movement registering on the youth's closed, inwardly focused eyes. Just as she was able to get fully to her feet, his voice hit the top of the crescendo and suddenly stopped. His eyes flew open, and, facing him across a few spare feet of tiled floor, Karen braced herself for another attack. Instead, in less than a blink of an eye - he disappeared. Karen stood motionless, then spun on her heels, a gasp of pain accompanying the sudden motion, her eyes darting over every corner of the room. Full circle she turned once, and then again. Closing her eyes, she opened them again and looked again, but there was nothing. Her eyes flew to the door, but it stood closed and silent. Her eyes flew to the shadows beside the refrigerator, beyond the big freezers, but yet again, nothing was there. Rubbing her eyes with one hand, while the other probed the tenderness beneath her ribs, she tried to think. He had been there. He couldn't just disappear. There was no way out of the room, except through the door. She ran to the doorway, seized the knob and yanked the door open. Two faces turned to stare coldly at her, one thin and pinched above a burly, barrel of a body, the other thick and craggy over a ripple of muscle and burgeoning fat. Both pairs of eyes had less emotion than a stone, both regarded her flushed and rumpled appearance with calm disregard. "The boy, did he come out?" The words tumbled out of her in a rush. One man shook his head, the other's expression turned to one of pure disdain. "He's gone!" she yelled. "What?" That stirred them into action. Shoving her aside, they rushed into the empty lab. - - - - - Andalor held his breath, and slid silently aside as one of the men came within inches of stepping on his feet. The slender youth pressed himself back up against one of the cabinets for support, a wave of intense dizziness washing over him. Fighting hard to remain awake, he tightened his grip on the edge of the long countertop, and waited to see if the spell would hold. After several long, anxious moments, Andalor allowed himself to breath more easily. Carefully watching the movements of the people in the room, he slowly made his way towards the open door step by cautious step. But just as he was about to bolt out into the hallway, he came face-to-scowling-face with the black Mage Gordon. The man's icy blue gaze seemed to hover over the very spot Andalor stood, making the boy's heart tighten within his chest. Then just as abruptly, the bitter sapphire gaze moved on, glinting as they seized upon the woman's face. Andalor was only barely fast enough to remove himself from Gordon's path as the man relentlessly strode into the room. Almost gasping for breath, the invisible Prince shrank back against the heavy door, his mind spinning. The evil magician hadn't seen him. Hadn't sensed the magic of the spell. Or had he? Could he be somehow toying with Andalor? The Prince didn't know for sure, and frightened of walking out into a trap, remained pinned where he was, listening and watching with every part of his being. - - - - - "What the hell do you mean, he just disappeared!?" Gordon hissed at the obviously frightened Dr. Mather. She cringed satisfyingly, but simply shook her head and spread her hands wide. "I don't know. One second he was right there in front of me, the next he was just...gone." Gordon glared fiercely at her, but she met his eyes directly. He bored into her just long enough to force her to drop her eyes, but not without finding himself convinced she was telling the truth. At least, the truth as she knew it. He cast his eyes around the room, his mouth drawn thin. There was no way out except through the door, and his two best men had been standing just outside. He might believe that Dr. Mather had betrayed him - though the presence of her still-captive daughter in the cell three floors above made that unlikely - but he couldn't accept that both of his soldiers had as well. Turning back to the ashen-faced woman, he took her through it again and then again. She repeated herself with increasing confidence, as the story became less frightening in its familiarity. Though she was aware of the possibility of interdimensional travel, that possibility was focused solely on specific moments, accompanied by an enormous outlay of equipment, time, and electrical power. That she could cope with, but a teenage boy disappearing in front of her eyes like a stage-magician's trick - that was harder to accept. So her mind slowly placed filters between itself and the impossible, allowing her to regain her foothold on reality as she knew it. Gordon sighed, and brushed a hand back through his close-cropped graying-brown hair. This was getting him nowhere. The boy had to be somewhere, Gordon simply did not believe he had disappeared into thin air. Growling at the watching men, he shouted his order. "Don't just stand there, FIND THE BOY!!!!!!" Then he spun around and stalked from the room, unaware of the shadow that peeled off from the door and followed in his wake. - - - - - Andalor followed Gordon down the hall, his leather boots treading soundlessly on the smooth tiles. Gordon halted at the end of the corridor, and this time Andalor was not surprised to see the wall split in half. Watching carefully for his chance, he slipped into the elevator after the larger man. The Prince wasn't completely certain why the obviously powerful Mage couldn't see through the simple spell, but it was becoming obvious that not only did Gordon not sense the spell itself, but he didn't have an idea that such a spell existed. Surely, if he had known of such an incantation, he would not have been so skeptical of the woman's words. Feeling the first rush of accomplishment and relief, Andalor concentrated on not betraying his presence. It was risky to stay so close to Gordon, but Andalor was not quite ready to flee. First, he had to recover his pack, especially the magic rings he had brought as gifts for Mulder and Scully. If Mulder's enemies discovered the bespelled rings, which were attuned to the intended recipients, they could use the rings against the Blue Mage and his bond-mate. Andalor could not allow that to happen. He also desperately wanted to bring Mulder information of his enemies' plans. Andalor's invisible back straightened as he imagined how grateful and proud Mulder would be when he came to him with knowledge of the evil ones' fortress and purpose. Perhaps, Mulder would want him by his side when he went to demolish the black magicians. Eyes filled with dreams, Andalor almost didn't notice when the slowly rising room came to a halt and the wall slid apart. The clang of the sliding doorway broke Andalor's reverie, and he bolted out of the magic room just barely in time. He nearly gasped aloud as his foot was almost caught, only barely stifling the noise. Still, the intake of breath was enough to catch the edges of Gordon's awareness, and he turned to stare at the apparently empty hallway behind him with narrowed eyes. Seeing nothing, he shook his head and strode away. Andalor wiped his sleeve across his brow, then tucked some wayward strands of hair behind his ears. Another close one, but his luck was holding. As was the spell. His strength was slowly returning, though he still felt like each step was mired in mud and his head felt like he had just suffered one of Aldara's training sessions. Stifling a yawn, he hurried after Gordon, intent on not letting the Black Mage escape him. Gordon turned two more corners before he came to a stop in front of a door. Realizing his timing would have to be perfect, Andalor got as close as he dared, standing poised on his tiptoes behind the taller man. Gordon flung the door open and stepped inside, the invisible boy following right on his heels. Again Gordon got an uncomfortable sense of being watched, and he spun around in a full circle, glaring at the room. That was just the chance Andalor needed, and he moved quickly into the far corner of the room then stood breathlessly still. Gordon frowned, rubbing at the back of his neck. Then with a sigh, he slammed the door shut and went over behind his desk. Seating himself in the big leather chair, he reached for the telephone. "It's me." He listened intently. "No, no more information yet. Dr. Mather somehow managed to let the boy escape..." Gordon's frown deepened. "Yes, I know. But there's no way he'll get out of the building. We'll find him. In the meantime, is there anything on Mulder?" Andalor's ears perked up. "Unh huh, you're sure? Where? Who?" Gordon leaned back in his chair, a look of confusion crossing his taut features. "Where are they now?" "All right, stay on it. I want to know every move he makes. I mean, EVERYTHING!" Gordon hung up the phone, only to have it sound off insistently the moment his hand left the receiver. "What now?" he muttered as he picked it up again. In the corner, Andalor pressed a hand to his chest, his breathing coming hard. That sudden blaring sound had startled him - but not enough to make him betray himself. As he recorded Gordon's conversation into his memory, he cast his eyes around the room. It was a simple square, dominated by the big wooden table in front of Gordon, who was seated in a big, black, cushioned chair that looked across the table at two stiff-hard-backed wooden chairs. One side-wall was lined with bookshelves, the other had a smaller, longer table covering its length. There was no window, but a couple of large leafy plant s added the room's single note of warmth from a corner. Andalor tried to take in the contents of the main table, but he couldn't read anything clearly from this distance. His eyes moved on to the back wall, and the odd metal cupboards that stood to his own height. Then as he turned his attention to the floor near his feet, Andalor's heart skipped a beat. His pack! Crouching down, he studied it carefully. There was no doubt it had been searched, and until he was out of Gordon's sight, Andalor dared not check to see if anything had been removed. He couldn't even risk attempting to extend the invisibility spell. Gordon might feel the exercise of power, or he might notice that the pack had disappeared. Besides, Andalor had to admit to himself that he wasn't sure he had the strength to craft another spell. So, he settled down in the corner and waited while Gordon alternately shouted into the white-colored contraption or studied some of the large piles of papers in front of him. As time passed, Andalor slipped downwards, his eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to stay awake, his head drooping sideways to rest on the comfortable presence of his pack. The last thing that crossed the Prince's mind, before he drifted off to sleep, was an image of Reinald, the Mage's eyes pleading, his hands outstretched... - - - - - Andalor jerked to awareness, curled up on the carpeted floor. His eyes came open instantly, and he rolled into a ready position. Feet braced beneath his crouch, he gazed around the room - the now empty room. Rising slowly to a full-standing position, Andalor checked again and then again. Gordon was gone. Rubbing at sleep-dazed eyes, he wondered how long had he been asleep? Then he wondered whether the invisibility spell still held. Unfortunately, Andalor could see himself whether the spell was in effect or not. So unless he wanted to take a chance on one of the evil ones seeing him, he'd simply have to hope it was still functioning. In the meantime, he finally had the Black Mage's lair to himself. His spirits soaring, Andalor first grabbed his pack and emptied the contents onto the floor. All of his food and clothing was still there. One of his knives was resting on the bottom, though the larger one was missing. The gold and jewels were gone, but the bracelets were still there. And the rings? Thank the Gods, they remained were he had secreted them - hidden in a small pocket within the cloth lining. Holding the two small metal circles in his fist, he reached around his neck and pulled on the chain caught between his hair and skin. As it came up over his head, the symbol of his house, the winged falcon of the Rulers of Fairwood Demesne, dangled from the thick silver chain. Yanking it over his head, Andalor fumbled with the clasp, then pulled the loose chain through the two rings. Only when he finally had them nestled securely against his chest, concealed beneath his shirt, did he breath a sigh of relief. Replacing the contents of the small sack, he held out a chunk of bread. It was a bit stale, but sill tasted sweet to the now starving boy. Munching gratefully, he hoisted his pack over his shoulders and began to search the room. He wasn't certain what he was looking for, but he hoped to find something he could bring to Mulder - something that would prove his worth and his courage. Rummaging through the papers on the big table was a frustrating task, as his knowledge of English proved again to be less than he had thought. His eyes screwed in concentration, Andalor tried to make out most of the words, finding that while he could read them, only some of it made sense. But he did his best, committing the patterns of letters to memory, one document after another, even when they appeared to be gibberish. Then suddenly, a word jumped out at him, "Mulder," repeated twice within the same paragraph. And then Scully, repeated several times. Deciding that despite the exactness of his eidetic memory this page was worth bringing along, he transferred it, and the next few pages as well, into his pack. Then casting his eyes around once more, he decided it was far past time to move on. Walking over to the door, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. He knew that this building had several levels to it, but he had no idea how to find his way out, or even in which direction he might find a door to the outside world. He did know that the floors were color-coded. This one was yellow, the one with the room he had first appeared into, as well as the healer-woman's room, was green, and the floor he and Shannon had been held on, was brown. Shannon! His mind raced in response to the image of the girl still imprisoned below. Her nearly elven face gazed at him with defiant strength. How could he even consider escaping and leaving her a prisoner? What kind of adventurer or hero would he be if he abandoned her to her fate? No, he told himself firmly. He *must* save her. - - - - - Andalor sped along the hallway, knife in one hand, the pack slung over his shoulder. As he approached the final corner before the moving room, he slowed to a more careful pace. So far he had been lucky, but there was no way to know when someone might come out from the magic sliding wall. Pressing back to the side, he angled his head around the corner, leaving the items he was carrying far enough around the corner that they couldn't be seen. He couldn't be absolutely sure the invisibility spell was still working, but it was the best chance he had. His eyes focused on more empty hallway, and then on the motionless wall beyond. Steeling himself for the possibility of sudden discovery, he pulled away from the wall and raced down the center of the floor. His leather-clad feet slipped on the freshly waxed tiles, and he slid down the end feet first, landing sprawled on his back in front of the still-closed sliding wall. With a soft groan, he scrambled upright, then paused. The little button in the wall was quiescent, and Andalor was hesitant to attempt it. What if there was some kind of spell he needed to do in order to activate it safely? What if by trying to touch it without the proper incantation, he would betray himself to his enemies? Yet, there seemed to be no other alternative. If he didn't brave the moving room, he would remain trapped where he was. He hesitated, his finger poised in mid-air, mere inches from the small round surface. Then he took a gulp of air and stabbed it hard. The little circle glowed a soft yellow, and he could hear grinding sounds from within the wall. Jerking his hand back, he stared suspiciously around him, but was rewarded with an eerie silence. The only sound besides the harshness of his own breath came from within the wall. The hidden bells sounded again, then the wall began to slowly split apart. Braced for it this time, Andalor waited until there was enough space for him to pass, then he darted inside. The tiny room was empty, again giving him an adrenaline-pumped rush of relief, and he settled back to watch the doors slowly close again. Once he was enclosed from outside view, he gazed around him with wide eyes, then focused in on the rows of little buttons to the left of the door. Both the guards and Gordon had used those to direct the movement of the little room, but unfortunately, Andalor hadn't been able to see clearly which buttons had been used. Besides, he didn't want to stay here or go back to the green floor, instead he needed the brown. Closing his eyes, he concentrated hard on remembering Gordon's movements. If he could recall which button meant this floor, then maybe he could work from there. His photographic memory obliged with a moving picture show against the backs of his eyelids. Yes, there - he could see it. Gordon had pressed the fourth button from the top of the left row. And that had been higher than the green floor. However, the green floor was below the brown one. Frowning hard, he tried to catch a sense for which journey had been longer. Maybe the one to the green floor had been... Taking a chance, he reached out and chose the next button up from the one he was sure went to the floor he was on. No sooner had he pressed it than he felt again that strange sense of being in motion. Upwards, this time, and quick. His stomach settled uncomfortably into his groin as the doors began to open. Holding his knife outwards, Andalor peered out through the widening crack... And found himself facing one of the guards, the big craggy one with steel-gray eyes and massive shoulders. Those cloudy eyes focused first on the knife, then just over Andalor's shoulder, then dilated rapidly. The thick mouth fell open, and the bulky figure froze in place. It suddenly occurred to Andalor, the spell was still in effect. All the guard saw was his knife and his pack, apparently floating in mid-air. Eyes dilated in shock, the man pulled out his gun and aimed it at empty air. Andalor saw the man take the odd-shaped weapon out of the holster on his belt as though in slow motion. He didn't know what the object was, except for the certainty that it could only do him harm. As the sleek, iron-gray barrel rose up towards him, the youth ducked to the side, leaving his knife-hand stretched out to his right. The noise of the foreign weapon was deafening, the heat and stink of it terrifying to the foreign youth. But he tumbled away, unhurt, only to see two large, blackened holes appear in the wall mere inches from where his chest had once been. Fear and rage striking deep, Andalor's training took full hold upon him, and he drew the knife back, then launched it with all of his weight and determination speeding its flight. "AAAAGGGH!" The guard screeched as the sharp, shiny blade imbedded itself in the meat of his shoulder. Stumbling backwards, he fired several more shots into mid-air, the bullets slamming into walls and ceiling. As he landed on his back, his gun hand struck the floor with a crack, and the weapon slid across the floor. Andalor scooped it up, then held the heavy object with uncertain hands. The guard was writhing on the floor, hands yanking on the knife-hilt, yelling fluent, unfamiliar curses. Unwilling to abandon his knife, but seeing no alternative, Andalor slipped around the guard and grabbed for his pack. Only then did his eyes focus on the red streak running along the center of each wall. He was on the wrong floor! Andalor silently let out a curse of his own, then he raced back to the sliding wall. Stabbing at the button anxiously, he watched the wounded man stagger to his feet, the blood-drenched knife in his hands. Those gray eyes had darkened to pure black, and the mouth was twisted with pain and rage. Seeing nothing more than his gun and the small sack floating in mid-air, the man let out a bellow and charged forward. But even as he let out the scream, the doors were beginning to open. Andalor pressed his back against the opening, then moved to the side, one foot lashing out and hitting the man just below the knees. Emitting a strangled cry, the man tumbled forward to lie on the floor, his head less than an inch from the opening. Andalor leapt over him into the moving room, then stabbed desperately at the next higher button. All too slowly, the doors squeezed shut, leaving Andalor with the last impression of an enraged scowl glaring through before they came finally together. Andalor would never have believed he'd feel relieved by the odd feeling of motion, but at this moment it was a gift from the gods. Up and up, then an abrupt dropping down, again causing his stomach to do an awkward flip within his belly. Still holding the powerful foreign weapon in one hand, he waited tensely for the door to open. --------------------- End Chpt7 Part B --------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Seven Part C "LET ME GO!" Shannon screamed, twisting, struggling, dragging her toes against the floor in a vain attempt to find some leverage. The guard holding her right arm grunted in annoyance as one of her legs tangled with his. On the other side of the flailing girl, Gordon's face hardened into stone. Pausing just long enough to wrench her aside, Gordon tightened his grip on her upper arm and shoulder. "Enough!" he told her through clamped lips. She spat at him, her hair a whirling ebony cloud around her face and upper body. Her eyes flashed fire as she bared her teeth in a half-smiling snarl. Taking careful aim, she kicked out at him, and he slapped her hard in return. "Try that again and I'll have you chained and put on a leash." His voice ended on a note of mixed irritation and satisfaction. All the response he got was an angry hiss, her body slumping between them so that they had to literally carry her towards the elevator. Shadowed by a wing of raven hair, her face was grim with concentration - waiting, prepared, ready to take any chance she was given. As they waited for the elevator, Shannon wriggled in their grasp one more time, then tossed her head back to free her eyes. Just at that moment, the door slid open to reveal the heavy muzzle of a handgun floating in mid-air, the rough shape of a leather sack bobbing behind it. All three freeze in shock, eyes squinting. There! - Shannon saw it first - the shimmering, semi-transparent shape of a slender human, the head shining pale gold, the eyes a faint bluish glimmer, fading in and out of sight. Then it moved in a soft ripple of light and shadow, light reflecting and passing through in deflected waves. A voice, rich and colored with a lilting musicality, leapt out of mid-air warning Gordon to release her, and the gun wavered, then pointed unerringly forward. Stunned as she was, Shannon was ready to take advantage of the chance to get out of Gordon's grasp, yanking herself free, then turning to claw at the guard's hand. He cried out, jerking back in pain, leaving her to spin out of range, though not without first delivering a fierce kick to Gordon's shins. Gordon swore viciously, one hand falling to his wounded leg, the other unsuccessfully grabbing at her, but she was too far away, pressing her back against the wall. Her hands came up in a defensive posture, hands curled into claws, teeth bared and ready. Meanwhile, Andalor was slowly becoming semi-visible - a faint outline of his form coming clear to the startled men. The guard reacted predictably, reaching for, then pointing his own weapon at the boy, while Gordon trained his on Shannon. "You won't shoot me," she challenged. "Kill me, and my mother will never do your dirty work for you." Gordon sneered at her defiance. "I don't have to kill you, just wound you. I think she could use a good reminder." Shannon edged backwards, one sliding step, then another. Her eyes still blazed, challenging, her body tense and poised, giving no sign of the terror striking deep within. Holding air deep in her lungs, she glared at the gun aimed at her chest, then looked past to where the shimmering, semi-transparent Andalor was engaged in a standoff with the guard, their weapons trained on each other. Andalor was caught between fear and fury, simply grateful that the guard obviously didn't realize that he had absolutely no idea how to get the unfamiliar weapon to work. They remained frozen on the edge of violence for a long tense eternity, then Shannon broke the silence. Yelling at the top of her very capable lungs, she charged at Gordon. Not expecting an unarmed girl to run straight at him and the gun in his hand, Gordon hesitated for one split second too long before pulling the trigger. The shot rang out, causing the guard to spin in response. Suddenly the tableau was shattered into a chaotic melee. As Gordon tried to fight off a kicking, biting, screeching Shannon, dropping his gun in a fruitless effort to protect his eyes from her gouging nails, Andalor leapt for the guard using his gun as a club. The guard tried to bring his gun to bear, but the one shot he got off went wild, nearly hitting Gordon, who tumbled to the side. Andalor struck again and again with the gun, the big metal object twisting in his grasp. He yanked at it the wrong way, and it stunned him by firing, the recoil tossing him back onto the floor. The guard wavered on his feet, trying to bring his weapon to bear, a rich, red stream of blood rushing from the center of his chest and gurgling out of his mouth. Shannon and Gordon broke off in surprise, then both dove for Gordon's lost gun. By some miracle, Shannon managed to reach it a second before him, and she fell to her back on the floor, turning to aim the deadly black metal on him with fierce determination. He stared coldly at her, almost daring her to use it, while Andalor watched the guard he had accidentally shot die, panic and a sudden sense of guilt wrenching at his gut. But Shannon's primary concern was their escape from this prison. "Come on!" she yelled at Andalor, keeping the gun pointed mercilessly at Gordon, her fingers tight on the trigger. "Back off," she told her captor in a cutting voice, the fierceness of her expression telling him that she was unafraid of shooting him. Andalor stared at her, then scrambled to his feet, letting the gun fall out of his hand. As he sidled up closer to her, Shannon reached out with her left hand to grab Andalor's now fully-visible arm, and half-dragged him down the hall. "But the..." he tried to gesture towards the elevator, but she was insistent. "It's not safe. Come on, hurry!!!!" She fired a couple random shots in Gordon's direction, making Andalor wrap an arm around his head in protest, then turned and ran like a startled deer down the hall. Not knowing what else to do, Andalor raced after her. Shannon led the way around corners and down long hallways, her eyes darting around as the blaring sirens of the alarm bells began to sound off. Still clutching the gun, she yanked at several doors along their way, kicking at the locked ones, scowling at the wrong ones, until, in the far end of the building, she found the one she wanted - the stairs. Andalor kept after her, any hesitation lost in the clamour of the bells and the shouts that echoed down the long halls from their pursuers. The race continued downwards, deeper and deeper into the building, until they swung out through the last door into the dim, dirty basement. Tucking the weapon into her belt, Shannon shoved her way deeper into a maze of steam pipes and piles of old equipment, not bothering to look back to see if Andalor was following her. With no where else to go, he followed instinctively, pupils dilating in the darkness, his slender body squeezing through after hers. Finally hitting a dead end, she came to a sudden halt, nearly causing him to crash into her. She threw him an irritated glare, then stared around, eyes narrowing as they focused on a small window several feet above their heads, light peeking through the dingy glass, half-covered with rotting boards. Shoving over some of the wreckage lining the floor, she yelled to Andalor for help. But he had already followed the dir ection of her gaze and was moving to help even as she spoke. Working together, muscles straining, they built an unsteady pile of junk, placing broken chairs on top of broken desks, wooden planks on top of plastic odds and ends. Feeling the press of time, Shannon let out a sigh of frustration, then began to clamber upwards. Andalor went up behind her, ready to catch her if she fell, but she moved like a cat, sleek and graceful and always sure-footed. When she finally got within reach of the window, she tugged on the boards, groaning under her breath as they resisted, then at last came free. Andalor ducked as she tossed one down, nearly hitting him on the head. She ignored his yell, managing to pull another couple loose before loosing her balance. He was lucky to catch her, and for a moment they tottered on the top of the junk heap until she was able to regain her footing. Glaring fiercely at him, she received an unabashed grin in return as he released his hold on her waist. The she swung away to try again. Using the gun as a hammer, she carved out enough space to crawl though. Andalor shielded his face and eyes as the glass shattered under her flurry of blows. Replacing the gun in her belt, she took hold of the edges, protecting her hands with the tails of her shirt. Straining hard, she leapt upwards, propelling herself towards the opening. Behind them, the sound of heavy footsteps, followed by shouts, rang out, coming closer and closer. "Hurry!!!" Andalor urged, giving her a big shove from behind. Despite her anger at the placement of his hands, it was the help she needed to bring herself up so that she could get her shoulders through the jagged hole. Andalor pushed at her feet, forcing her upwards, until she was able to slide out onto the ground. Turning on her knees, she reached down to give Andalor her hand, bracing her feet against the wall of the building. He handed her his pack, and she almost threw it down, but something in the look on his face convinced her otherwise, and she tossed it aside in poorly disguised annoyance before re-extending her hand. Grasping onto her, he was able to get high enough to press his shoulders through the aperture, but before he could pull the rest of his body through, a shout rang out from immediately below. "Dammit!" Shannon swore, and letting go of Andalor, she retrieved the gun and pointed it down between his arms and chest. Features stretched taut in urgency, fear, and rage, she fired a volley of shots at their pursuers. This elicited more screams, including one from Andalor, as he tried desperately to both get up through the window and avoid getting shot. With one mighty groan, he managed to find the strength to wriggle all the way through the window, even as a full-fledged fire-fight broke out between Shannon and the men below. Then suddenly Her gun was empty. Andalor fought all the way to his feet, retrieved his pack and shouldered it, then grabbed her by the arm, just as she was about to toss the empty now-useless weapon down at their pursuers. "Let's get out of here!" he yelled into her ear. Shannon complied instantly, scrambling to her feet, the gun still clasped in her hand. Feet-flying, side-by-side, the pack bobbing on his thin shoulders, they raced off down the alley and out into the street. End Chapter Seven =========================================================================== Chapter Eight Part A An unseasonable tropical spell gripped Washington, D.C. Between the muggy weather, the travel and the lack of sleep the previous night, Scully felt wilted and stale by the time she unlocked the door to her apartment. A glance at her companions showed her that they were feeling much the same. Jourdain had looked better after a battle with the Dark Creatures, and even Aldara was a bit daunted. As usual, Scully was awed and surprised by her friend. Aldara had been consistently upbeat, enthusiastic and intrigued by all the new things she encountered. Scully knew that she must be missing Daanna badly, and was probably more than a little apprehensive about the strangeness that surrounded her, but she showed neither. This happy fascination with new experiences was a side to Aldara that not only had Scully never seen, but she had also never suspected. Scully clicked on the air conditioner to High-Cold and set her overnight bag down in the living room. Food and rest were what the trio needed right now. Crossing through to the kitchen, she pulled a couple of steaks from the freezer to defrost in the microwave and set about making a salad. Aldara wandered into the kitchen. "Can I help?" she asked, almost shyly. Scully looked over her shoulder and flashed a smile at her friend. "Sure, you can set the table, if you want, and then help me wash some vegetables. Silverware is in the drawer to the left, and the plates are in the cabinet directly above that, if you can reach." Scully dried some crisp leaves of romaine lettuce on a paper towel. "Unfortunately, kitchens always seem to be designed and built by excessively tall individuals, not 'normal sized' people like you and me," she observed, only half-joking. The two finished preparing the meal, companionably chatting as they worked. Aldara adjusted quickly to the many unfamiliar wonders of Scully's kitchen, and was soon using the running water and the garbage disposal as though she had grown up with them. "Jourdain! Come and eat, love!" Aldara called. But her summons was met with silence. "Jourdain?" Puzzled, Aldara moved into the living room to see her husband sprawled on the couch and softly snoring. She kissed him awake, gently brushing back the salt and pepper hair from his eyes. "Eat first, husband. Then bath, then sleep." "Ugmmmmph." Bleary-eyed, Jourdain pulled himself to a sitting position on the edge of the couch and then stood, dwarfing his wife. "Ah, what a nag you're becoming, Aldara. Remind me to beat you." She smiled up at him. "I really wouldn't advise trying it - Scully gave me back my knives." He chuckled as they went arm-in-arm into the kitchen. He stopped briefly to shake his head in wonder at the strangeness of the room, but the scent of the freshly grilled steak quickly captured his attention. He sat down and started in on his meal. Scully watched amazed as he devoured the huge Porterhouse on his plate, half of Aldara's and several slices of Italian bread, gulping down an ice cold beer in between bites. The beeping of her cellular phone took Scully's attention away from Jourdain. She picked it up from the counter and pushed a button. "Hello?" Her face eased into a smile. "Yes, about an hour ago....Pretty well, all things considered....Oh, no!" She listened raptly and then laughed, then listened a few minutes more. "Yes, I've been wondering that myself..." Her voice became softer. "I know, love - me too.... Okay.... See you tomorrow. Bye." She replaced the phone on the counter. "That was Mulder," she said, returning to her seat. "He's on the way down to pick up Tarnor, Reinald and Professor Neumann. It seems they landed in a swamp a few hundred miles south of here and were chased by an alligator." "What manner of beast is this?" exclaimed Jourdain. He had finished his meal and was leaning back in his chair. Scully spent the next several minutes explaining what alligators were and answering the concerned couple's questions about the welfare of their friends. When they were finally at ease, Scully stood and began to clear the table. Refusing Aldara's offer of assistance, she suggested that they might want to shower. "Shower?" Aldara asked. "Come with me." Scully led her friend into the bathroom and demonstrated how the shower worked. Then the pair went into the adjoining bedroom. "Toss your clothes out the bedroom door and I'll pop them in the washing machine. I'm sure most of my stuff will fit you, Aldara, so borrow anything you want." Scully laughed. "You're just not allowed to look better in my clothes than I do. And I think Mulder has an old robe or something in the closet that Jourdain can wear until his clothes are out of the dryer. Look around and grab what you need, okay? And you guys have the bedroom while you're here. When you're through in the shower, get some rest. I don't quite know where we're going to put everyone when they get here, but I guess we'll manage." Aldara nodded, even though she had not understood all of what Scully said. Washing machine? Dryer? Smiling at her friend's confused expression, the auburn haired woman went to her bureau and grabbed some underwear, shorts and a tee shirt from the drawers and closed the bedroom door behind her when she left. Scully returned to the kitchen and had the room spotless and the dishwasher loaded in a few minutes. Hearing the shower running, she went to the bedroom door and collected the dirty clothing on the floor. Quickly changing into the items she had retrieved from the bedroom earlier, she added her own belongings and started the washer. Scully smiled. Judging by the giggles and poorly-suppressed squeals emanating from the bathroom, Jourdain and Aldara were finding the shower as much fun as she and Mulder usually did. She busied herself with a few tasks - checking her e-mail, inventorying supplies of food and bedding - until the washer was finished, and then she put the clothes in the dryer. Walking into the living room, Scully sighed and pulled a light blanket and a pillow from the coat closet. She dumped them on the couch and slumped down next to them. She hated being separated from Mulder. Their lifebond ensured that there was always a connection of some sort, but the greater the distance, the more strained and indistinct that connection became. Ever since their lifebond had been validated, she had become accustomed to being able to communicate with Mulder without talking. Indeed, the couple was startled to discover how often they now communicated through their bond rather than speaking. More than once the apparent unnatural and prolonged silence between them had been noticed and commented upon at the Bureau. She missed it bitterly on those occasions that they had been separated by enough distance to make that same level of communication impossible. She could feel Mulder's essence and know that he was not in danger or threatened in any way, which of course was reassuring. But the emptiness she felt at her inability to talk to him anytime she wished was overwhelming, and somehow more than just emotional. She reminded herself to ask Reinald about the effect of distance on lifebonded partners - there might be more information that they needed to know for their own safety and well-being. She must have drifted off on the couch, because it was dusk when she opened her eyes. She wandered into the kitchen, removed the clothes from the dryer and folded them, taking some comfort from the simple task. Tapping gingerly at her bedroom door, she tiptoed in to place the freshly laundered clothes on the bureau and turned to leave. She glanced at the sleeping couple, wrapped in each other's arms, and felt a sharp pang. Closing the door behind her, she returned to the living room, shutting the blinds, drawing the drapes against the darkness. Then she settled down on the couch for the night, to dream of her own - absent - partner. - - - - - An outburst of giggles was the first thing she was aware of as she floated up to wakefulness. Squinting, Scully barely opened one eye to see sunlight pouring in between the slats of the blinds. Tentatively she sat up and kicked the blanket off her legs. In spite of her extreme fatigue and melancholy the night before, she felt surprisingly good. She padded out to the kitchen, the source of the laughter. Both Jourdain and Aldara were looking refreshed. Jourdain had his Realm clothing on, as Scully suspected he would. Although he and Mulder were much the same height, where Mulder was slight, the warrior was massive, and Scully had doubted that Mulder's jeans and tee shirts would fit. Aldara was obviously taking a very feminine pleasure in having access to a whole new wardrobe. She was barefoot and had on a pair of green satin running shorts. Her top was a white eyelet sleeveless blouse with a ruffle around the scooped neckline that Scully had received as a gift from Melissa. She had never worn it because she felt that it was not really her style, and had relegated it to that part of her closet where all her gifts from Melissa resided. It suited Aldara perfectly, however. "I thought I told you that you couldn't do that," Scully began with mock severity. "What?" asked Aldara, confused. "Look better in my clothes than I do," replied Scully, and smiled at her friend. She crossed to the refrigerator and pulled out the makings for breakfast. The eggs, bacon and toast were a complete success with the Realm natives, the coffee a complete failure, no matter how much cream and sugar were added. Over the meal, they discussed their plans for the day. "Mulder should be home with the others by supper time," she said, munching on a crisp strip of bacon. "I hate to waste any more time, with Andalor out there somewhere. Aldara, do you think you could describe Andalor well enough for someone to draw a picture of him?" "Yes, I'm sure I could," Aldara said. "Why?" "Because we have people where I work that are specialists in drawing those pictures," Scully said thoughtfully. "If you came down to the Bureau with me, we could have a composite sketch made. Then we could release it to the Boston FBI office and the police departments in the Boston and Cambridge area. You never know, someone might spot him and report it. Or even pull him in off the street and sit on him until we can pick him up." She looked at her guests, a hint of a gleam in her eyes. "It means driving into the city - lots of traffic, lots of big buildings, lots of people. How about it - would you two like to visit the Bureau?" "Yes!" "No!" The answers were simultaneous and their sources not unexpected. Aldara looked pleased and excited by the prospect of another foray into this strange new world, and Jourdain looked horrified by the same prospect. Scully smothered a grin. "That's okay, Jourdain. There's a rather important job right here at home. We need someone to stay by the phone in case Andalor calls. I have a machine that answers the phone if I'm not here, but I think that might confuse him. If he calls, I think it would be better for him to hear a familiar voice that can answer his questions. I was hoping you might want to stay here to do that." There was a momentary flash of relief on Jourdain's face, quickly replaced with his usual look of stolid dependability. Aldara was grateful that her friend had found a way to preserve Jourdain's dignity. He had confessed to her in the night how unsettling he found Mulder's world. Dark Creatures and soul eaters and dastardly plots by the noble houses he could deal with. This world had upset him badly, and it was going to take some time to come to terms with it. Aldara knew he half-envied, half-resented her easier transition, and was glad that Scully had not inadvertently made a difficult situation even more difficult. The agent gave Jourdain a few lessons in telephone etiquette and set out the notepad and pen. By that time, Aldara was dancing up and down with excitement and impatience. "Are we going?" Scully looked first at her friend, then at herself, and chuckled wryly. "Not dressed this way, we aren't. Mulder's and my reputations are damaged enough without showing up at work like this. Come on, we have to get changed." When the two women emerged from the room fifteen minutes later, Jourdain could not believe his eyes. Scully was immaculately dressed in a navy blue suit, a close copy to the one that had been shredded by soul eaters within hours of her arrival in the Realm. Aldara - Aldara looked like she actually belonged in this bizarre world. The foreign clothes, a red jacket over a black dress which would have been scandalously short back in the Realm, suited her so well that she might have been born here. "Okay, Jourdain, we'll be going now. We're going to the FBI," she said, writing her cellular number on the notepad. "Then we have to go and get some food for everybody that's arriving today. I think we'll be gone at least 5 hours or so. If you need me or have any questions, or if Andalor should call here, call me immediately, okay? Are you sure you won't be bored staying here?" Jourdain shook his head. "No. There are many books here I want to look at, many things I want to investigate further. Besides, someone has to be thinking of a plan for what to do when the others join us," he said with quiet dignity. "It seems like a miracle that we have all gotten here unharmed, but we can't forget our purpose for coming - to find Andalor and bring him back to the Realm. I don't know your world, but I know Andalor and I know tactics and strategy. There must be a plan for any eventuality." Scully regarded Jourdain, her respect for him showing plainly on her face. "Thank you, Jourdain, you're absolutely right. Let us know if we can help." The warrior nodded gravely, then hugged and kissed his wife farewell, shaking his head and smiling a little at her appearance. Who would have dreamed such alien and feminine clothing could conceal so many knives? He had felt at least four when he embraced her. "Try to leave Washington in one piece, Aldara. And don't get Scully into trouble," he finished, joking. Fluently and with good humor, Aldara cursed her husband roundly in New Realm, which had Scully shaking with laughter. The two were scooted out the door by Jourdain. "I see you still remember some of our language," observed Aldara, smiling. "A surprising amount," Scully replied, unlocking the car and sliding in. The two women adjusted their seat belts, the elven warrior doing it proudly for the first time by herself. "Of course, Mulder remembers everything that's written down, so he can speak it much better than I - he can quote whole books," she said, shaking her head in awe. "But we kept it up when we returned, because we always hoped to go back to the Realm someday, and we brushed up a bit as soon as we knew you were coming. And besides, words as colorful and descriptive as those are hard to forget." Certainly telling your husband to seek sexual gratification in quite that manner and under the conditions described would qualify as "colorful". During the hot drive to the Bureau, Aldara watched Scully like a hawk. "What does that do?" she asked, pointing in turn to every switch, button, pedal and lever that Scully touched. She continually barraged her with questions about why she was performing certain actions. Scully answered them with considerable misgivings. Finally suspicious, she looked at her friend. "You know, it takes lots of practice to drive a car, Aldara. Don't get any ideas, okay?" Aldara turned a face of innocent blandness to Scully, which did not fool her for a second. "I mean it, Aldara - you could get badly hurt." The Realm native looked a bit disappointed, but Scully was under no illusions that Aldara's hopes of driving were gone forever. Her stubbornness was almost as legendary as her elven temper. Scully parked in the garage and the women took the elevator to the entrance to the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Aldara looked at the gate-like structure before her, similar to the one at the airport. "Uhhhh...Dana?" "Just a second, Aldara. Hi Frank, how's it going," Scully said, showing the skinny, balding security guard her badge. "This is a friend of mine whose little brother is missing. We're going to go have a sketch made in Composites." She placed her gun and handbag in the tray and stepped through the metal detector. "Come on, Aldara." Aldara shrugged and walked through the gate. Suddenly, all hell broke loose - sirens, flashing lights, and grim-faced security guards appearing out of nowhere with weapons drawn. Scully looked on horrified for a split second, then rushed to her friend's aid. Or to the guards' aid, as it appeared that Aldara was about to lose her famous temper. "Sorry, Frank - it's all right, really. Aldara - take off the knives and put them in the tray. Right NOW. Sorry, Frank," she said again. "Aldara lives in a really rough neighborhood and has been mugged repeatedly. She carries those for protection - they've saved her life a couple of times. I think she kind of forgets she has them." "Only because she's with you, Agent Scully - otherwise that pretty little ass of hers would be in a cell. The knives stay here 'til you check out, okay?" Aldara glowered at the guard, whether because of his keeping the knives or his reference to her anatomy, Scully could not tell. "Of course, Frank, that's fine. Come on, Aldara." Grabbing her by the wrist, Scully pulled her through the lobby under the watchful eyes of several security guards and even more agents to the main elevator bank, then punched the up button. The little warrior was seething and Scully wanted to get her out of sight before she exploded. Once in the elevator, the explosion came. Fortunately, they had the car to themselves. "How DARE he talk to me that way! And put his hands on me and take away my possessions!" Aldara fumed. There followed a string of some of the most truly inventive and imaginative New Realm cursing Scully had ever heard. "It's his job, Aldara - although, admittedly, Frank is what we would in this world call a 'male chauvinist pig'. Calm down - it was my mistake. I should have told you there would be a security check. You won't need your knives here anyway." The little half-elf continued to grumble, mostly in her native tongue, until the elevator door opened. Weaving their way through hallways and a maze of desks, Scully finally stopped and tapped at the door of an office. "Lee, you busy?" "Dana! I thought you were supposed to be on vacation. What's up?" "Leonda McCay, this is Aldara, an old friend of mine. Her brother has gone missing, probably a runaway. She doesn't have any recent photos of him, so I was hoping you might help her with a composite sketch, so we have something to broadcast. He's kind of a naive kid, and the less time he spends on the streets, the better." "I hear you. Well, it's nice to meet you, Aldara. Have a seat right over here and I'll get my kit and we can start, okay?" Aldara took the seat that was indicated and sat down. Her anger now defused, her attention - her fascination - was now with the tall, ebony-skinned artist. "You okay, Aldara honey? You're looking a little strange," Leonda asked. Aldara pulled herself back together. "Sorry, my - uhh- brother's disappearance has me worried. I am not myself today. Please excuse me for staring. What do I have to do?" Lee explained the procedure and found Aldara an apt pupil. The two worked for over an hour side by side. Feature by feature, they pieced together a highly accurate sketch of the boy. "Yes!" Aldara said excitedly. "That's Andalor, just as one of the court painters might paint him. It's perfect! Such a wonderful artist!" Lee looked at Scully with amusement. "Well, I'll take compliments like that any time, but Andalor? And court painters?" "Old family name," said Scully, shrugging. "As for the court painters, well, uhh...my friend here is a medieval scholar and I'm afraid she gets so deeply into her work sometimes she doesn't know what century she's in." "Uh-huh, okay, whatever you say, Scully." The woman's dark brown eyes danced with laughter. She hadn't been walking around for almost fifty years without learning a little something, and one thing she knew was a line when she heard it. "Undoubtedly this is one of yours and Mulder's special little 'projects' and you can't really say what's goin' on. That's cool, girl." "Thanks, Lee, I owe you one." The tall woman handed Scully several photocopies of the sketch. "Hey, Mulder owes me a couple, too - and someday I'm going to collect," she laughed. The three women shook hands and then Scully took Aldara to her and Mulder's office. "Why did that woman have such dark skin?" asked Aldara. "You have different beings in the Realm, all our beings are human. But among humans there are some differences, such as skin color," replied Scully. Aldara nodded, accepting Scully's explanation. "She drew a wonderful picture of Andalor," she said pragmatically. They put together a physical description of Andalor - his height, weight, clothing he'd be likely to be wearing, and so on - and faxed it with the composite sketch to the Boston FBI office and the greater Boston area police departments. Aldara looked around the cluttered office, alternately fascinated and appalled by the memorabilia from some of the pair's cases. The fax itself required a long drawn out explanation which the Realm native followed surprisingly well. Finally, Aldara was finished sight-seeing and was willing to leave. They were almost through the long dark hallway that led from the office, almost at the elevators that would bring them up to the lobby. Almost there, thought Scully. We've almost made it out of here without running into - Skinner! The tall man's broad shoulders seemed to span the hallway. Arms on his hips and a suspicious look in his piercing eyes, he nodded at the two women. "Good afternoon, Agent Scully. I had assumed you were on vacation, as I ordered. May I ask what you're doing here?" "Uh - good afternoon, sir. I was just getting something I left behind in my office. This is Aldara, a friend of mine. Uhh, we just finished doing a composite sketch of her brother, who's missing. I didn't think you'd mind if I did a favor for her." "Well, I don't mind your doing a favor for her as much as I would mind your being in the office and working when I had ordered you to take a vacation. I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss -?" he broke off and looked at Scully to supply Aldara's last name. "It's Aldara. Just Aldara. Kind of like...'Cher'," Scully finished weakly. Skinner gave her a long look. "Very well, I'm pleased to meet you, Miss... Aldara. Remember, Agent Scully, I don't want to see you back here for a while, understood?" "Yessir!" breathed Scully, relieved that he didn't bring up the little fracas in the lobby. The two women walked passed the Assistant Director, and were ten paces further down the hall when his voice stopped them. "And Agent Scully, please instruct your friend regarding the concealed weapons policy of this building." Scully closed her eyes briefly. Was there anything the man did not know? "Yessir!" ---------------------- End Chpt 8 Part A ---------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Eigh Part B Scully was glad they had just been paid. It had been a long time since her checkbook had taken a hit at the grocery store like the check she just finished writing. Feeding seven adults was an expensive proposition. She and Aldara each pushed a cart out to the parking lot and they began to pile the bags into the trunk of Scully's car. Aldara had been fascinated by the huge selection of merchandise, but even she found it excessive. They had almost finished loading all the bags when Aldara found herself grabbed from behind and Scully heard a metallic click next to her ear. "Okay - wallets, handbags, jewelry. In the bag, now, or the little one gets hurt real bad." There were two of them, one black and one white, both in their late teens. The black one held Aldara, arms pinned behind her back. The white one held the Saturday night special aimed at her. Arrogant as well as criminal, thought Scully, they had not even bothered to wear stockings or ski masks to disguise themselves. Add stupid to arrogant and criminal - they had chosen poorly if helpless victims were what they were looking for. A glance at Aldara told her that she was ready for anything on Scully's signal, and was likely to take care of things on her own if Scully did not. Scully caught Aldara's eyes, and blinked deliberately. Simultaneously, the two women exploded into action. Scully flung her whole weight against the one holding the gun, knocking him off balance. The twenty-two slid along the asphalt out of reach and Scully had her own considerably more impressive weapon out of its holster before he had even recovered his balance. For her part, Aldara had twisted from her captor's grasp with practiced skill at Scully's movement, and hit him in the face with the edge of her calloused hand. She sat astride his chest now, her six inch blade pricking his throat and a bloodthirsty glint in her eye. "No, Aldara, it's tempting, but don't, you'll just get into trouble. Here, put the cuffs on him and his friend." Scully tossed the pair of handcuffs to her friend, who used them to cuff both muggers together by their right wrists, making it impossible for them to run with ease. The job was professional, if not a bit tighter than absolutely necessary. "Great job, Aldara. Now hold the gun on them while I phone for the police. Guys, she's really in a bad mood now, and I would strongly advise you stay very still. I have seen her kill before." The terrified muggers hardly dared to breathe, and looked almost grateful to the police who came a few minutes later to take them to jail. "Nice goin', guys. You decide to pick on an FBI agent and a martial arts expert. You have quite a career ahead of you. Get in the car, you jerks," the cop said, smirking. "Sorry you ladies had to be inconvenienced. Have a good day." Aldara and Scully watched the police car disappear down the street, then collected their belongings, closed the trunk, and went on their way. - - - - - Scully, Aldara and Jourdain had just started their last trip from the car to the apartment building, hauling in the remaining bags of groceries, when Mulder's car screeched to a halt at the curb. He leapt out and ran up to Scully. Reinald, face white and drawn, was shakily climbing from the back seat, and the Professor bundled Tarnor into the building, his jacket pulled over the gargoyle's large gray head. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked anxiously. He hugged her tightly to him, then held her at arm's length. "What the hell have you been doing?" He scanned her for the injuries that he knew he would not find and was hit by wave after wave of reassurance from Scully's mind. As his worry for her abated, he became a little more rational, and chuckled wryly. "I've been getting the weirdest sensations all day long. I'm afraid the last hour and a half has been a little tough on Reinald's nerves, but I sensed that you were in danger, and I wanted to get here as quickly as possible. Then when I sensed the danger was over - well, I guess I was just curious," he smiled, brushing her cheek with his hand. "You took a risk, with Tarnor in the car. It would have been awkward explaining him to some overeager state trooper," said Scully, smiling back. She tilted her head up to meet his lips with her own. They held one another tightly for a few seconds, saying all they needed to say via their special bond, then broke the embrace. Scully walked over to hug the Mage and offer him an arm to lean on. He was still trembling rather badly. Evidently Mulder had understated the effect of his driving on the old gentleman. Inside, a happy reunion was going on, with Jourdain looking the most at ease he had been in this world. Aldara hugged Tarnor, Reinald, and finally Mulder in turn. In no time at all the table had been laid and the friends were doing their best to pick clean the huge smoked turkey and all the trimmings. Conversation revolved around bringing Mulder and Scully up to date with Realm happenings, the rebuilding efforts, Daanna, and the latest machinations of the noble houses. When everybody had eaten their fill, Scully served coffee to Mulder and a grateful Professor, and tea to the rest of the group, and they all moved into the living room to continue their conversation. "So Jourdain," Mulder began, "I understand you were working hard all day putting together some sort of plan while the women were out getting into trouble." He nimbly ducked Scully's shoe as it crossed the room with impressive accuracy. Jourdain grinned. "I knew what I was doing, Mulder." He became more serious. "Friends, thank the gods that we are all together and safe, at least for now. But as difficult as our journeys were, our most difficult task lies before us. We must find Andalor, bring him to safety, and then persuade him to return to the Realm, to his rightful place as our king. We have no idea how Andalor is right now or what trouble he may be in. But I think we will all agree that no matter what Andalor fancied from the safety of the Realm, the realities of this world are far more strange and far more dangerous than he could have imagined. I think we must assume that he is in jeopardy, and move quickly." He looked around the room at the faces of his friends. There were solemn expressions and nods of assent. "Very well. Aldara and Scully have taken the first step, in sending a portrait of Andalor to the authorities. Someone may report seeing him. But we can't wait for that. Next, we need a base of operations close to where we assume Andalor to be. Professor, when you dwelled in the village of Cambridge, did you have a house, and will it be available to us?" The Professor nodded. "Yes, I left Karen in charge of all that. I will give her a call, but everything should be in order, it hasn't been all that long in this world's time since I left. The house is huge, much more than I need. There will be plenty of room for us all." "I hesitate to suggest this after some of you have been exposed to Mulder's driving," Jourdain said dryly. "But I do believe we must drive to where Andalor is. I looked in this book of maps - here is the path we must take. I have experienced flying - even Mulder's driving must be preferable." He was interrupted by Scully's snickers and Reinald's muttered prayer. "And besides, it will be safer for Tarnor." Again there was assent from everyone, although Reinald's was grudging. "When we get to the Professor's house, we can check with the authorities, to see if Andalor has been found. I believe he will be attracted to the young people of this land, those most like himself. If there is no news, we can split up into teams to search those areas frequented by young people. We will carry portraits of Andalor with us, and ask everyone if he is known to them." "I believe we must be armed," Jourdain continued. "We have no idea what trouble Andalor may be in, but to be truthful, it must be said that the boy attracts it. As Aldara found this afternoon, there are many dangers in this world, not all of them from speeding machines or alligators. Bandits and highwaymen live here, who try to rob women in the light of day. The gods know what Andalor has encountered. We must travel prepared for anything. Mages, please be ready with some spells that can protect us." "Jourdain, there may be a small problem with that," interjected Reinald. "Magic does not appear to function precisely the same way in this world." "Why am I not surprised?" muttered the warrior under his breath. "It does work, after a fashion, so it is not as bad as I had feared. But it is harder, more taxing to make magic work in this world. Did you not find it so, Mage Mulder?" Mulder looked thoughtful. "Yes, it requires much more concentration than in the Realm, and the effects are not as predictable. Also, the process itself is enervating in the extreme - to the point that, speaking personally, I have lost consciousness and caused Scully to do the same. Magic in this world is not to be undertaken lightly." "I agree," nodded the Mage. "Casting what would be a trivial spell in the Realm caused me to become dangerously weak. And the effects were not what they would have been in the Realm. I believe the use of magic should be a last resort, or an adjunct to other means. It would be a mistake to depend on it." "Very well, Mage, you'll get no argument from me," smiled Jourdain. "I prefer my battles to be more straightforward, anyway. Scully - do you feel you can still use your gifts of healing?" "The situation is much the same as with magic, Jourdain," Scully explained. "I can still heal, to an extent, but not the way I could in the Realm. It takes much more strength and concentration here, to less effect." "But you still have the knowledge to use Corvay's powders and potions?" "Oh, yes, of course. Did you bring them?" Jourdain looked to Tarnor, who nodded affirmatively. "Hopefully we will not need them, but we must be prepared for injuries. Mulder, Scully - do you still have your swords?" They looked at each other. "Yes, of course," said Scully. "But we have other, more powerful weapons, Jourdain." He scowled a little. "I have little trust in the weapons of your world. A sword in the hand of a warrior who knows how to use it is the most powerful weapon there is. All right, bring both - your swords and your shooting weapons. And Aldara and I have our knives. We should leave at first light." There was general agreement. Everyone took their turn in the bathroom while Scully took bedding out of the closet. Tarnor curled up in the recliner and looked blissful, with a full stomach and among all his friends again. Scully covered him with a blanket even as the gargoyle fell into a deep sleep. She and Neumann pulled out the couch into a double bed, which he intended to share with Reinald. "Where is the phone, Dana?" he asked in a soft voice. "I'd like to call Karen, let her know that I'm back and will be going to the house." "Good idea, Gunther. Use the one in the kitchen, it's a bit quieter." By the time he returned, Scully and Mulder had made up the bed and were deep in silent conversation. "Odd. I can't seem to reach Karen. Most unusual for her to be out at night." The Professor scratched his head absently. "Oh, well, no matter. Where are you and Scully going to sleep?" "We'll bed down with sleeping bags in the kitchen, Gunther, we'll be fine," Mulder answered. "We have to run out and do an errand first, though. The swords are over at my apartment. We'd better get them now so we can make an early start in the morning. You get to bed - we'll come in quietly so we don't disturb you, all right?" "Whatever you say, dear boy. I must admit to being quite tired. I doubt that you would be able to wake me up, no matter how noisy you were" Mulder smiled and patted the old gentleman on the shoulder. "Go to bed, Gunther. We'll be back shortly, don't worry." - - - - - Mulder and Scully silently entered his apartment, leaving the lights off. Too many odd occurrences had taken place in Mulder's building to consider it safe. Rather, they presumed it to be under some kind of surveillance by someone unsympathetic to their work at all times and acted accordingly. They had skirted the building and come up the back stairs and quietly let themselves in. A quick look around told them that things were as they had left them the last time they were here. Crossing through to the bedroom, they found the swords in the closet. Scully grabbed them and was heading for the door when Mulder's arms closed on her from behind. "No, don't go yet," he whispered. "Your place is a little crowded right now for what I have in mind." He bent his head to nibble lightly at her neck, a soft groan escaping her parted lips. She tilted her head to allow him better access. What he had in mind was more than apparent, even if they had not had their psychic connection. With her back pressed up against his body, she could feel how much he wanted her. Catlike, she rubbed herself up and down against him, as his hands skimmed over her body, caressing her hips, her breasts with a sense of possession she was more than willing to grant only him. //I missed you so much.\\ She turned in his arms, facing him, offering her mouth up to him in happy sacrifice. His mouth closed hungrily on hers, forcing open her lips, and he plunged in his tongue to savor the taste of her. Never parting, he lifted her, crushing her to his chest as she returned his kisses with an urgent passion, threading her hands through his silken hair, then drawing him even closer. Reluctantly freeing her lips, he gently set her down on his bed. Her eyes, catching the light from the streetlamps, glowed as he unbuttoned her suit jacket and removed it. Next came the buttons of the white silk blouse. Teasingly, he unbuttoned the soft fabric with maddening slowness. A thought from her that she would rip the blouse off her own body if he didn't quicken his pace elicited a chuckle as he freed her from the garment at last and let it slide to the floor. In the soft light, she took his breath away. He went down on his knees before her, pressing warm kisses into her neck, then onto her breasts through the satin of her bra. Her own hands moved to unfasten the front opening, but were stopped by his, as he skillfully opened it with one hand. Never taking his eyes from hers, he slid the bra straps down her arms and off. His arms went around her, mouth caressing her neck in just the way her mind directed, hands caressing her naked back, eventually finding their way down to the fastenings of her skirt, which he dealt with efficiently. She raised her hips slightly to help him, her skirt and half-slip soon joining the growing pile of clothing on the floor. In seconds, she was clad only in a lacy garter belt, panties and stockings. //Is this the way you usually dress for the office, Agent Scully?\\ He felt rather than heard the laughter that bubbled from her mind. Cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, she linked her hands behind his neck. //Well, let's just say I was hoping we might find a little time to spend alone together. Speaking of attire, aren't you a bit overdressed?\\ She smiled at him lovingly as she slid her hands up his sides, taking his moss green knit shirt with them. She caught the collar and pulled it over his head. Putting her arms around his waist, she pulled him closer, raining soft, open-mouthed kisses along his lightly-furred chest. She leaned back to lie on the bed, pulling him with her. He breathed a happy sigh as he nuzzled her breasts, finally satisfying her whimpers by taking a rosy peak in his mouth He rolled the nipple with his tongue and alternately suckled and gently nipped, driving her mad with need. Her hands were at his belt, then at the impossible buttons of his Levi's. He laughed gently as he caught her thoughts - //Hasn't he ever heard of zippers?\\ - and unfastened the offending buttons with practiced ease. She freed him from his remaining clothing, took him in her hands and lovingly stroking the length of him until he pulled from her, afraid of losing his tenuous control. She made an involuntary exclamation of protest, silenced by his lips on hers. Then his lips began a trail down her body, stopping to taste, to lick, to suck until they reached their final destination, where she needed him to be. He slid her panties over her hips and she kicked them off. With mouth and fingers, he pleasured her, her every thought becoming his action, eliciting her soft cries until she lay panting beneath him on the bed. Smiling, he again covered her lips with his as he sank deeply into her, her legs wrapping around him as she welcomed him. He stayed very still, looking into her face, tenderly brushing her hair back until finally she closed her eyes and began to move, taking him even deeper, letting him fill her completely. They moved in perfect harmony, each mind telling the other its most urgent needs, its deepest desires. Slowly and lovingly at first, then faster and harder they rode the wave of their passion. Her hoarse cry was echoed by his own a split second later, as he collapsed onto her, breathless. He felt her fingers gently skimming the outline of his cheek and opened his eyes to smile at her. Still joined, they rolled onto their sides and he clasped her in his arms. //We ought to get back to my apartment.\\ The thought was reluctant, a little sleepy. He stroked her hair, kissed her eyes and then her lips. //Later.\\ End of Chapter Eight =========================================================================== Chapter Nine Part A His breath came in short gasps. His feet pounded on the pavement. Andalor ran like the Dark creatures themselves were chasing him. Beside him, Shannon darted, quick and graceful, her long raven hair streaming out like a banner in the wind. "This way!" she shouted, her voice barely audible above the screeching din of the city streets. Her feet beat a staccato pattern on the concrete as she weaved and bobbed through the traffic. Ducking around a corner, she barely paused to look behind them, brushing impatiently at the strands of hair that whipped across her eyes. The lack of visible pursuit did not clear her mind, her desire to place as much distance as possible between herself and Gordon's goons forcing her ever onward. Turning on her heels, she quickly scanned the street, then raced across, expecting Andalor to be right behind. The foreign youth saw her move, and swung around to follow, but was not quite quick enough to avoid the oncoming traffic. Brakes squealed, the horn blared as a taxi-cab shuddered to an unsteady halt mere inches from Andalor's feet. Caught in the glare of the sunlight reflected off of glass and yellow paint, he stood frozen in open-mouthed shock. Shannon was at his side in an instant. Seizing his arm, she scolded him angrily. "Don't stand there like an idiot, Andy - come on!!!" "Huh?" he stammered, stumbling, then finding his feet. He threw another startled glance at the big yellow creature that had almost demolished him, then gasped as an angry human face peeked out the side. He understood in a flash of memory that this must be one of the horseless wagons the Professor described. But it was so much bigger and more odorous than he had envisioned - and so much faster. Even as his feet raced automatically after Shannon, his mind was reeling. A mixture of shock, amazement, and excitement flooded his senses, followed by an incredible sense of exhilaration. He had made it. He was here, in Mulder's world, and he was free. He even had a friend of sorts who knew this world, and who might be able to guide him to Mulder. He was certain that finding the Mage would be easy enough, surely anyone he asked would know where to find him. Things were finally turning out right... "There they are!!!" A voice shouted out of a horseless wagon to his right. Andalor and Shannon turned their heads, recognized one of Gordon's men-in-black, and bolted into an ally. Tires screeched as the car swerved to follow them. By now, both teens were fighting for every breath. Lungs heaving and sides aching, they pushed themselves onward, breaking out into another crowded street. Instinctively seeking the protection of the crowds, Shannon headed straight for the busy doors of a crowded mall. Glancing back only to assure herself that Andalor was behind her, she darted inside. Cool air hit them in a rush as they left the sun-heated streets for the air-conditioned hallway. Slowing by necessity, Shannon held Andalor back, her eyes communicating the need for caution. He nodded grimly, and matched her resolute, but unhurried pace. Shannon's eyes flickered from corner to corner, trying to avoid looking behind them too often. Andalor took advantage of the chance to catch his breath, then found himself staring around him in shock. He knew enough to recognize this place as a kind of indoor marketplace - but it was incredible! So elegant. So many different kinds of things. The lighting came from more of the mysterious squares in the ceilings and music seemed to filter through the air itself. He wandered after Shannon, the urgency falling second to amazement, until she got annoyed. "Stop gawking," she told him curtly. "We need to get out of sight." He swallowed and nodded, abruptly aware again of their pursuers. Shannon ducked into one of the large stalls, and he followed quickly. - - - - - Darting in and out of stores and dressing rooms, Shannon and Andalor managed to elude their pursuers, despite a couple of very close calls. Finally, the men seemed to withdraw, or at least, the two runaways lost sight of them. Taking one more long look around her, Shannon collapsed onto a bench in the center of the mall and rubbed at the back of her neck. Andalor sprawled beside her, stretching his long legs out, then curling them underneath him. Grateful for the chance to take the pack off his exhausted shoulders, he placed it between them. She caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, and turned, her face half-shadowed by a dark wing of hair. "I don't suppose you have anything useful in there, like money or food?" Andalor smiled triumphantly. Opening the top of the pack, he rummaged inside, then withdrew some dried meat and some slightly stale bread. "It's not a grand banquet," he sighed, images of the state dining hall in Fairwood Castle suddenly flashing before his hungry eyes. He sighed. "But it will do." Shannon eyed the offering with obvious distaste, but her stomach growled urgently, and she accepted her half with a grudging nod. "What else have you got?" she asked between bites. Andalor, swallowed hard, then looked down at his small stash. "Mmmm, some clothes. I had knives, but..." The memory of shooting the guard in the chest hit him hard, and his eyes watered. Fighting hard not to show the emotions that flooded him, he covered by taking another bite of the bread. Shannon watched him carefully, though she didn't give away her reaction. Something had obviously happened, and she still wanted an explanation for how he had managed to appear almost invisible. No, she shook her head at that - it must have been some trick of the lighting. Gnawing at the tough meat, she gestured at him to continue. "Well, I have a couple gifts for Mulder and Scully." His eyes brightened to a vivid, almost-blue. "And I have some small crystals. We ought to be able to trade those." "Crystals?" Shannon replied doubtfully, "let me see those." Andalor dug deep into the pack, then brought out a small cloth bag. Untying the end, he dumped out three small, perfectly circular crystals into her outstretched hand. Andalor wasn't certain why Gordon had taken some things and not others, but he was glad to still have these. Shannon turned them over in her hand, studying them as they caught and reflected the light. They were pretty, and obviously well-crafted, but she hadn't the faintest idea of their worth. Shrugging, she returned them to Andalor, who put them back inside the pouch. As he replaced those, a flash of gold from within his pack caught her eye, and she restrained his arm. "What's that?" she asked. "Bracelets. I had them crafted for Mulder and Scully." Proudly, he lifted them out and displayed them with a smile. Shannon's eyes widened, then narrowed. She took one from Andalor and held it down into her lap, running her fingers over it with barely disguised pleasure. Now *these* were worth something. If she didn't miss her guess, they were solid gold. And heavy, dotted with crystals of a type she could recognize. The green ones were certainly emeralds. The red one had to be rubies. Shaking her head, she gazed steadily at Andalor. "Why didn't you tell me you had something this valuable, Andy? We ought to be able to make a decent profit from these." Andalor frowned at the shortened version of his name. No one had ever done that before and he didn't like it much. It was too disrespectful. "Don't call me that!" he replied, grabbing back the shiny bracelet. "That is for Scully," he added with a note of finality. But Shannon was not about to give up. "That is our only source of support. Unless you're ready to sleep on the street and beg for our food, I'd suggest you reconsider. With the money we can get for that bracelet, we ought to be able to put a roof over our heads and buy some real food. I don't know about you,but I'm dirty, starving, and I'd like to sleep in a real bed." Shannon hadn't totally given up the idea of separating from this strange boy as soon as possible, but right now those bracelets of his were her only available means of support. Later - later, they'd see. Andalor grimaced, holding the bracelets tight in his rather grimy hand. He too was exhausted, hungry, dirty, and he truly did not know this world. But he had designed those bracelets himself, and watched over their crafting carefully, dreaming of seeing the pleasure on Mage Mulder and Warrior/Healer Scully's faces when he presented them with the gifts. However, he could feel Shannon's eyes boring into his skull, and felt the tide of necessity flooding against him. And he did still have the rings, which he would never part with, except into the hands of the ones they had been designed for. So, perhaps, the bracelets could go. With a tight knot forming in his throat, he closed his eyes and nodded. Seeing the acceptance in his face, Shannon finally smiled. - - - - - Gordon was on a rampage. Unfortunately for his subordinates, he didn't yell or scream or throw things. He turned calm, icy, deadly. One foot into a room, and the temperature dropped. Men who were afraid of nothing else, guns strapped under their heavily-muscled arms, shivered when those bitter blue eyes turned in their direction. The only person in the complex who was not afraid was Karen Mather. Leaning back in her chair, she gave Gordon a lazy, insolent smile as his gaze hovered over her face, then moved on with only the slightest flicker of recognition. Instead his focus was on the quivering head of security. "Can you explain to me how those kids got into the basement, much less crawled out through an 'unprotected' window onto the street?" The larger man stumbled over his answer. "Yes, I mean...Sir...the basement door is locked on the outside of the complex, not the inside. No one can get into the complex from the basement. It's just that..." "Anyone can get from the complex into the basement..." Gordon's breath whistled into his lungs. "Yesss, sir. The door is securely locked, made of reinforced steel plate. And rigged with alarms. No one could break through it, so we didn't bother reinforcing the basement windows. It didn't seem..." "It seems necessary NOW Stendall, doesn't it?" Now Gordon's voice took on the sound of an adult patiently lecturing a child. "Uh...Yes, SIR! We'll take care of it right away, SIR!" Stendall backed away and scrambled from the room, grateful to still have his head, much less his job. "Rather like guarding the chicken coop after the fox has already had dinner," Gordon grumbled under his breath as the door closed. Behind him, Karen chuckled. He turned and glared at her, she leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Looks like the 'fox' is one up on you, Gordon," she said with amusement. "Fox..." Gordon nearly growled as he got the joke. Stalking closer, he stood over her. "Don't think this gets you off the hook, 'Doctor.' We'll find those kids, and you'd better hope we find them alive." Snapping back onto his heels, he strode from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Once he was gone, Karen finally gave vent to her emotions. Fear, worry, relief, hope - they all swirled through her as she threw herself to her feet and circled the room. Unnoticed tears welled in the corners of her eyes, then began a slow trickle down her cheeks. One small droplet slid into the corner of her mouth and she tasted the salty liquid absently, flicking her tongue against that part of her lip, while her mind focused outward. Towards her runaway child. - - - - - The yellow page torn from the public phone book crumpled noisily in Shannon's hand as her fist tightened. Holding her hair back from her face with the other hand, she peered up and down the street, searching for a sign or number that would tell her their location. She knew the pawn shop had to be on one of these blocks, but which one? Andalor shifted the position of the sack on his shoulders, staring around him with definite unease. The sky was beginning to darken and as far as he could tell, they were lost. He still didn't understand why Shannon had insisted that they leave the huge brightly lit marketplace to go wandering in these dark and dingy streets. Surely they could have found someone to trade with in those bright, obviously reputable shops. But Shannon had been insistent that they go elsewhere, and he had accepted her superior knowledge of her own world. Now, however, he was beginning to have serious second thoughts. "I don't like this, Shannon," he said warily as they walked a little further down the street. "I think we should have stayed in the big marketplace. Surely someone there..." Shannon shook her head in irritation. Patiently she explained again. "No one there would have believed the bracelets belonged to you. We need to find someone who won't ask too many questions." "But why wouldn't they believe the bracelets are mine. I designed them myself - they are unique. And why..." "Shut up!" she hissed, pulling to a stop. Andalor nearly bumped into her before he came to a halt at her back. "What..." "Hey, hey, hey...what've we got heah?" came a heavily accented voice from within the shadows. There was a tittering laugh in response, as three boys stepped out into the street in front of Shannon. All three were dressed in ragged blue jeans, tee-shirts, and heavy fake-leather jackets. Pins and patches covered their chests, one's hair was spiked up into a green and yellow array along the crown of his head. Another had long hair tied back in a bandanna, the third was black-skinned with swirls of bared scalp showing between patches of dreadlocks. Two were grinning, the third was deadly serious. "Waaach you up to pwetty guhl?" he said, bearing down on Shannon. She instantly balanced up onto her toes, poised to run or fight. "None of your business," she replied with unnatural calm. "OOOH, a tough one..." he said, eliciting more laughter from his buddies. Andalor stepped up beside her. "Excuse us, could you tell us where to find..." "HEY look't this - an even pwettier boy." The lead boy interrupted. He reached over to grab at Andalor's hair, but before he could touch a golden strand, Andalor was moving. Before anyone else could react, he had tipped the larger teen over onto the pavement. Twisting the other youth's arm behind his back, Andalor knelt into the area just behind the kidneys - where he knew it would hurt. "You do not have permission to touch me," he said regally. Then releasing the arm, he stood up and away. "GGGet them," shouted the embarrassed, furious boy, gasping as he turned over onto his back and drew out his knife. His companions leapt in gleefully, delighted both with the fight and the sight of the larger boy going down so easily. The ensuing struggle was not marked by any sense of fair-play. The three gang members fought viciously, teasing their intended victims with the whirling blades of their knives. But Shannon and Andalor were both natural fighters, and what the tall, slender girl lacked in training, she made up for in ferocity. One of the boys went for her with a knife, and ended up with her teeth in his wrist. He screamed, trying to shake her off, but she dug in and held on. The knife clattered out of his hand, falling to the ground inches from where Andalor was locked in hand-to-hand combat with the spiked teen. Spike howled insanely, then leapt, only to find himself fall through empty air. Spinning off to the side, Andalor easily avoided the charge, then turned and delivered a sharp kick to Spike's rear end. Balance lost, the larger teen toppled over face-first. Andalor had not missed the glint of the knife and he gratefully scooped it up. The handkerchiefed boy had finally dislodged Shannon by unmercifully pummeling her in the stomach. Laying on her back on the ground she spat and hissed, already trying to scramble to her feet. But he was on her before she could regain her balance, and they rolled along the sidewalk, kicking and clawing at each other. With carefully grown nails, she struck at his eyes, missing by barely an inch, instead drawing blood along his cheek. He hit her hard across the jaw, then tried to pin down her arms. No sooner than he had trapped her beneath his weight, a sudden kick caught him in the kidneys. Screaming, he fell over to the side. Shannon wrenched herself free, looking up to see Andalor extending her a hand, the knife gripped tight in his other. Not bothering with useless pride, she grabbed hold of him, levering herself to her feet. No sooner had she stood up than she saw a shadow loom over Andalor's head. "Andy!!!!" she yelled. Andalor spun, the knife blade glinting in his hand as he struck out in pure instinct. But that instinct had been well-trained, and his thrust was perfectly timed, clean - but direct. Andalor leapt back, leaving the knife buried to the hilt in the black teen's chest, barely an inch to the right of his sternum. Blood gushed up and out of the contorted mouth, then the boy fell to the ground, twitched, and lay still. Andalor stood in shock, but Shannon was well aware of the two others getting to their feet close by. "Come on!!!!" she shouted, seizing hold of Andalor's arm. He paused. She turned to yell at him again, but he was already leaping back to scoop up his pack. Recognizing the necessity, she stopped short, though her heart was pounding in her chest and her mind kept screaming... "Go, Go, Go!!!!!" Though it was only a couple seconds later, it seemed an eternity before they were running again, desperately putting as much distance as they could between themselves and yet another enemy. - - - - - "Thank you," Gordon put down the phone and smiled, easily, for the first time that day. Then picking up the receiver again, he punched numbers as fast as his fingers could fly. Waiting for an answer, he tapped restlessly on the desktop. "Yes, get me Kraven.... Kraven, this is Gordon. Look, I need your help. Got a couple of runaways I need found. Yeah - a boy and a girl.... Blond hair, shoulder length, purple eyes...yeah...kind of odd...slender, 5''7'', about 15 years old. Wearing slightly old-fashioned type clothes, almost medieval in style....Black hair long and straight, light brown eyes, 5'6'', very thin, almost gangly. Sixteen. Dressed in black pants and a brightly colored shirt. Uhn huh... sure I'll hold." Gordon hated being on hold. Leaning back in his chair, his fingertips continued to beat a rapid, staccato pattern on the wood of the desk...Tap..taptap..tap...tap..taptaptap... At last. "Yeah I'm here, what have you got? Yes... You're sure? OK, look, I'm going to fax over a couple of photos to you. See if you can get a positive I.D. ... This is an important one, especially the boy. I want him Kraven - preferably alive, dead if necessary. ... The girl? More use to me alive, but GET her!" Hanging up, he leapt up out of his chair. This could be the break he needed - at last. - - - - - In the commotion following the escape, it was not too hard to pass unnoticed. Karen craftily tried to place herself where she felt she could gain the most information. So when Gordon stormed into the administrative offices to fax out photos of Shannon and the boy, she was seated in a corner, quietly drinking her coffee. Bending her head down, she tried to blend into the background. Having the large leafy plant partially between her and the center of the room didn't hurt. But what her eyes couldn't see, her ears could hear. Shannon - involved in a gang fight!!! Dear God, let her be all right!!! Her mother's heart froze in place, as she strained to catch every word. Still missing - but believed to be alive and unharmed. Her heart began again to beat. Men to blanket the area... Karen wasn't sure if she wanted to hear that the two teens had been found or that they had escaped. Shannon's disappearance meant that Karen was free of Gordon, but so much could happen to a child alone on the streets. Without food and shelter, they would be easy prey, and with the Professor gone and Shannon's father dead, there was no one for her to turn to for help. Or was there? The boy said he knew Agent Mulder. If he and Shannon went to the federal agent for help - they'd be safe. And she'd be free. And maybe she'd be able to expose Gordon... No don't reach for too much, Karen, she told herself. Focus on what you can do NOW that will help Shannon the most. Mulder. He was the one person Gordon was most frightened by, despite his attempts to hide it. The mental image of a tall, dark man hovered in front of her eyes, colored by an aura of intelligence and emotional intensity. Could he protect the kids? She didn't have any other choice. If Gordon hadn't been holding Shannon's life and health over her head, Karen might have chanced contacting Mulder sooner. Now - now she *had* to take the chance. Somehow she would have to find a way to reach him. But how? -------------------------- end Chpt9 PArt A -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Eight Part B "There!" Shannon swung her arm out towards the faded sign hanging crookedly over the rust-covered door. In the twilight, the stained storefront appeared faded, the glitter of the display lost in the darkening shadows. The glass, covered in dust and sweat-rimmed fingerprints was striped by the long metal strips of the security gate. Triple-locks unfastened, the door now swung half-open, slightly tilted on its hinges. Shannon eyed the doorway with satisfaction, Andalor with dismay. "Are you sure?" he began, but she interrupted with a hissing whisper. "Yes. Now let me do the talking." Pushing the door fully open, she strode purposefully into the dim interior. Andalor straightened his shoulders and followed, his face wary and grim. The store was filled to the brim with a conglomeration of junk, clothes, jewelry, shoes, chairs and tables, linens and candlesticks, jumbled among an amazing assortment of object the foreign Prince did not recognize. A part of him felt an instant desire to search out whatever treasure might lie buried, another part was disgusted by the layer of filth that seemed to permeate the air. "What can I do for you?" an oily voice sounded from a corner. Shannon tossed her hair back and moved closer to the voice. Andalor edged along behind her, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. A few steps closer, and they could see the man awaiting them. Huge broad shoulders tapered to thin wrists and meaty hands, the bare skin dotted with crawling tattoos. His scalp was bare and shiny above thick gray eyebrows and sunken eyes. The protruding, almost swollen-lipped mouth was open in a grimace of a smile, revealing yellowing, metal-filled teeth. A long black overcoat floated around his frame, a musty red and green flannel peeking out from underneath. "Sir," Shannon steeled herself, determination winning through. "We have a pair of bracelets we'd like you to take a look at. I believe we can come to a mutually satisfactory agreement." Those caverned eyes trailed over them both, eliciting involuntary shivers from both teens, then he stepped closer and smiled hungrily. "So, let's see what you got, kid." Shannon turned and nodded imperiously to Andalor. He bristled at her assumption of command, but felt there was little other choice than to go along - for the moment. Gingerly setting his pack on the edge of a nearby table, he drew out the bracelets and held them up to the light. The shopkeeper's eyes glittered, though his cold expression hid his greedy response. Shannon knew he was hooked, though, and she pursued him. "These belonged to my Grandmother," she lied effortlessly. "My only inheritance. My....guardian wanted to steal them from me, but I won't let him do that." Her voice immediately took on a defiant whine. "No one has a right to steal them from me. I'd rather sell them than let that sleaze nab them!" Andalor stared at her in amazement, she lied far too easily. Shannon caught the look on his face, and silently elbowed him in the stomach. "Owwww..ackackack," he cried out, quickly burying the response in a cough. He may not have been happy with the situation, but Andalor knew how to bargain. By this time, he had already negotiated his share of treaties and land agreements, winning the respect of his friends and adversaries. Even Reinald had admitted that the Prince was a good negotiator. "Let me take a closer look," the man said, reaching out a big hand to take the bracelets. Andalor swung them away. "You've already gotten a good look," he said, ignoring Shannon's obvious annoyance at his interruption. "No," Andalor shook his head, invisibly gaining stature as he went into court-mode. "You know full well the value of these...heirlooms. My...sister," he tossed Shannon a grin as though to say that two can play this game. "My sister is giving you a rare opportunity. We need the funds to escape our guardian, you can trade these for high value. So we are willing to make you a good deal. You can have these for 2/3 of their value." Andalor actually had no idea what the value would be in this world, but the man was not hard to read, and Shannon would know if they were being cheated. "How do I know they are not stolen?" the man argued back, triumphantly. He leaned in close to them, the raw stench of his breath making them both gag. "Where'd you lift 'em, kids?" "We didn't steal them," Shannon replied with an utter confidence that was convincing in its reality. Andalor simply met the shop owner's gaze with calm composure. The man's eyes darted from one to the other, accepting the truth of that statement, even though he was not about to give up his bargaining advantage. The jewelry may not be stolen, but these two were up to their ears in trouble somehow. He could smell it. "Maybe I should just call the police!" he challenged. Andalor shrugged with unconcern. "Maybe you should. But do you want to lose this opportunity? These bracelets are of the finest quality. Carved of the purest ore, adorned with the finest gems. Crafted by the best jeweler in the Realm." Despite some misunderstandings they managed well enough; Andalor having no clue what the 'police' were, but assuming they were some kind of authority, the pawnbroker uncertain what a 'realm' was, but not really caring. "I'll give you two hundred each," he offered, as though giving them a deal. Andalor paused, looking to Shannon, and she broke in instantly. "Are you kidding? Let's get out of here Andy. That's a joke. These are worth ten times that, at least!" She turned to leave. Andalor shrugged and began to replace the bracelets in his bag. But the man broke in, "OK, five hundred each, but that's as high as I can go. Especially if they're hot." "They're quite cool," Andalor replied. "We won't take anything less than six hundred each," he insisted. "Five fifty." "Five eighty," answered Shannon. "Five seventy five." This time the pawnbroker's raspy voice was settled. Shannon and Andalor shared a glance of understanding - that *was* the best he would offer. "OK," Shannon replied grudgingly. "Where's the money?" "Just a minute," he grumbled, turning away to go into the back of the store. There were sounds of objects being shuffled, then the big, bald man came out again, his face contorted into a frown. "Let me see those bracelets," he said, holding a sheaf of green paper in his hand. Andalor frowned, but Shannon looked pleased. "Go ahead," she agreed. Andalor figured she knew the local currency better than he did, and the Professor had talked of paper money. The Prince still thought it was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard of, but this was a strange place. Accepting her lead, he handed over the bracelets to the man's eager grasp. Shannon waited anxiously while he examined the jewelry with painstaking care, her eyes unable to leave the pile of money sitting on the shelf just out of her reach. "So, do we have a deal?" she finally urged, shifting impatiently on her feet. "Yeah, ok," the man said, at last giving her the money. Andalor leaned over her shoulder while she counted it, taking a deep sigh of relief at the look of pleasure that crossed her face when she was done. Tucking a handful of the bills into each of her jeans pockets, she looked at the rest and sighed. "Better put this somewhere safe," she told Andalor, reluctantly handing him the rest. He took it, staring at the little pieces of paper with some curiosity, then hurriedly dumping them into his sack. It went back up over his shoulder, and they both turned to leave. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the ugly man standing in the dirty light, gazing at his new found treasure with unconcealed delight. - - - - - Night was falling quickly now, causing both Shannon and Andalor to pick up their pace as they walked down the empty streets. Every noise seemed a portent of untold dangers, each shadow held an unknown threat. "Any idea where we are?" Andalor asked uneasily, his eyes darting from one crumbling, unkempt building to another. Shannon shook her head. "No, but we'd better keep moving. We need to find a motel or something." "Motel?" She shook her head. "Andy, you are without a doubt the strangest duck I have ever met." Andalor sighed with frustration, refusing to ask her what a 'duck' was. "You're pretty odd yourself," he said instead. Shannon laughed, an incongruously light sound in the growing dark. Shaking her head, she pushed forward as quickly as she dared go without running. "Come on, there's got to be at least a restaurant around here somewher e. I'm starving!!!!" At the mention of food, his stomach growled while saliva pooled in his mouth. "Me, too," he replied honestly. "I could eat an entire herdbeast." "You mean an entire horse..." Shannon flashed him a grin, then took the next corner with a sudden burst of energy. "Why would anyone want to eat a horse?" Andalor rounded the corner after her, coming to a sudden halt behind her still figure. "What's wrong!" he asked urgently, but she turned to him with a wide, feral grin on her face. "MacDonald's!!!!!!" - - - - - Andalor warily followed Shannon into the brightly lit building, though once inside the wonderful smells assaulted his senses, immediately lightening his mood. Stomach growling, he gazed around him with wonder. Again, there was the unusual lighting, a warm flood of soft yellow streaming from squares in the ceiling. The room was filled with tables and chairs, painted in bright colors, red and yellow and blue and green. There was a low counter along one wall, behind which he could see men and women dressed in equally colorful clothes. Blinking, he thought that only an elf would be jealous of such attire, the red and yellow stripes were dizzying. Shannon tugged at his arm, and he followed her up to the counter, eyes soon focusing on the odd paintings displayed above their heads. He could recognize the subject as food, though it was unlike anything he had eaten before. But the aroma was convincing and his hunger was demanding. Shannon spoke peremptorily to the bored woman behind the counter. "Give me a double cheeseburger with fries, and a medium diet Coke." Then she turned to Andalor, obviously waiting for him to speak. Andalor frowned, having not the slightest idea of what her words meant. Shrugging, he decided to hope that his companion had good taste in food. "Give me the same as her," he ordered with faked confidence. Stifling a yawn, the woman punched at the odd-shaped, metallic object in front of her, then turned around and began tossing things onto a small brown tray. Two small wrapped objects were soon followed by two paper sacks full of thin brownish strips. Next, she put two cups under another strange machine, after which a flood of dark fluid came gushing out of the spouts. When the cups were full, she put a clear top on them and added them to the tray, which she then carried over and slid across the counter towards Shannon. "Seven twenty five," she said wearily to Shannon who had already dug some of the crumpled currency out her pocket. Peeling off one piece, she handed it over to the woman who looked at it and frowned. "Got anything smaller?" Shannon shook her head. "No, sorry." With a sigh of irritation, the woman punched at the machine, which clanged, shooting out a drawer. Andalor jerked in response, then stilled when Shannon showed no response. The woman put in Shannon's money, then drew out several similar pieces of green paper and some silvery-colored coins and handed them over. Andalor watched the transaction carefully, wishing he knew better how this world's coinage was counted. Shannon picked up the tray and carried it over to another small table behind them. She grabbed some paper napkins, a couple of long thin, white sticks, then squirted some thick, red fluid into a small paper cup. It reminded Andalor too much of blood, and he grimaced at the sight, even as he followed her to a small table with cushioned couches on two of its sides. Shannon placed the tray in the middle of the table, and slid onto one of the couches. Andalor got into the other, groaning under his breath at the relief of being able to release the weight of his pack from his shoulders, and the weight of his body from his tired feet. Stretching his legs out, he wriggled his toes and briefly closed his eyes. By the gods, it felt good to sit down. Shannon took one of the cups, then tore at one of the small thin sticks. To Andalor's surprise, the white covering ripped off easily, revealing a thin, striped hollow reed. She poked it into the covering of the cup, then drew fluid through it, swallowing with obvious relish. Carefully, Andalor mimicked her movements, trying to hide the awkwardness of the unfamiliar task. But it was easy enough, and he took down a huge swallow of the sweet, yet biting drink, before realizing there was still another surprise involved. Bubbles burst into his mouth and throat, causing him to cough violently, then sneeze. Putting the cup down he stared at it in shock. "Whhhat is this!?" he demanded. Shannon looked up at him, her eyes dilating in equal amazement. "Diet Coke..." Then her eyes narrowed. Leaning forward she demanded softly. "You've never had Coke before?" "Coke?" Andalor shook his head. The bubbly sensation was easing, and he had to admit it had tasted rather good. Lifting the cup warily, he took a much smaller swallow. This time he was prepared for the bite of the drink, and he grinned. "No, I've never had it before but it's rather good." Shannon shook her head again, then in an habitual gesture, grabbed her long hair and tossed it back over her shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak, then paused, thinking hard. She doubted that the fantastic story this strange boy had told her earlier was true, but there was no doubt that he was foreign. "Where are you from?" she asked, curiosity gleaming in her amber eyes. Andalor smiled, but spoke almost wistfully. "Far, far away," he replied simply. Shannon ate a couple fries, considering. "Tell me again how you ended up here?" "I came through the vortex to visit Mulder, but somehow Gordon's magic drew me off course. I think he was sending someone else through, and we collided." Andalor shivered at the recollection of the feeling of that dead flesh against his own. Shannon however, was deep in thought, trying to make sense of his words. "Vortex..." she murmured. She'd picked up enough from her mother to have some idea of what kind of experiments were being done. A stray corner of her mind suddenly shouted - what if Andy is telling the truth? Her mother had let slip that the Professor had disappeared into his own experiment, and she knew Gordon was desperately trying to copy the results. What if they had developed some kind of portal... She frowned, this was crazy! Shannon prided herself on keeping her feet on the ground. Another might call it skepticism or even cynicism, but she considered it old-fashioned common sense. While Shannon was thinking furiously, Andalor was tearing into the thin brown strips with eager hunger. He wasn't quite sure what they were, but they tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten before, except maybe for the castle cook's fried onions. They reminded him somewhat of whiteroots, and they had obviously been cooked in some unfamiliar, but tasty seasonings. But even when his fingers were busy stuffing his mouth as quickly as they could, his mind kept circling. Stuffing the last of his pile of the tasty things into his mouth, he followed with a few gulps of the bubbly 'Coke.' Then he finally spoke his mind. "I have to find Mulder." "Why?" Shannon shot back. Andalor frowned, leaning forward across the table. "Why? Because he can help. And I have to warn him. Gordon is planning something evil." Even saying that name again made Andalor's uneasiness deepen. What if the black Mage could sense it? Andalor shut that possibility aside, though he decided to be careful of ever using it again, just in case. "I came here to find Mulder, and I have some things to give him. Gifts, and something I found in...the evil one's place. I don't understand what the parchments say, since my grasp of your language isn't as good as I had originally thought. But Mulder will know. And he will know what to do about it." "Maybe..." Shannon was doubtful. She still thought that the best thing to do was to get as far away as possible from Gordon and his goons. She squelched a brief rush of concern for her mother, forcing it way with the thought that her mother never really cared all that much about her anyway. Sure she spoke a good game about how she was only helping Gordon because he threatened Shannon, but the girl knew how obsessed her mother was with the work itself. Always, Shannon had come a distant second to her mother's career, and Shannon had heard too many excuses to believe anything different this time. No, better to leave Karen to her own mess, and get away clean while she could. "I think we need to get away from this town as soon as possible," she insisted. "Those men will be searching for us, and maybe the police as well. Once we're somewhere safe, then you can contact Mulder." Peeling away the wrapping from her cheeseburger, she took a huge bite. "No, we'll only be safe if we find Mulder," Andalor argued, watching as she put more food in her mouth than he would have believed possible. It looked and smelled good, though, and he reached for his own wrapped sandwich with eager hands. Shannon shook her head, wiping at her dripping mouth with a paper napkin. "How do you know you can trust this Mulder? Or that Gordon won't be expecting you to try to find him? We could walk straight into a trap." Andalor had to swallow before he could burst out in outrage. "I trust Mulder more than anyone. In this world or any other. He saved the Realm, risked his life and that of his bondmate for us. How can you even suggest..." "Hey...HEY!" Shannon hissed, her eyes darting around. Leaning towards him, she warned him urgently. "Chill out, Andy. Keep it down. I'm sorry I insulted your friend. If you say he's cool, then I believe you. But take it easy, the last thing we need to do is attract attention." Taking a deep breath, Andalor forced himself to bury his anger. She was right. And she had apologized. He was surprised she knew so little about the Great Mage, but he was beginning to realize just how little he knew of this strange world. The Professor's stories had seemed so full of information, yet the Prince was coming to see that the crafty old man had actually told him very little. Andalor nodded. "Yes, you are right. I am sorry I yelled. But I know that I am right too. We need Mulder. He is the one person who can defeat Gordon," his voice dropped to a thin whisper on that name, then rose again with his certainty. "And Mulder is the only one who can truly keep us safe. Besides, how can we not warn him that his enemies may be preparing to strike. He is my friend, I owe him my life. I have to find him!" Shannon frowned deeply, her eyes darkening to match the ebony of her hair. Pursing her lips, she leaned back and studied her companion's urgent face. More than anything she wanted to flee, to the very ends of the earth itself, if possible. Australia, she thought wistfully. She'd love to see the Outback. Maybe start a farm, raise kangaroos. Live somewhere far away from people and cities... Sighing, she thrust that dream away. Like it or not, Andy had a point. Gordon was up to no good, he was hardly going to let them slip through his fingers, and there were other troubles as well. For one the authorities were not about to let a pair of teenagers just live on their own, at least not in any comfortable sense. They'd have to keep moving, at least until they turned eighteen, and in the meantime it would be nearly impossible to support themselves. Further, she was not fool enough to doubt that there were other predators out there, as bad or worse than Gordon, just waiting to prey on runaway teens. She didn't stop to question why she thought in terms of "we" and "they" - it just seemed right. The bottom line, though, was that they needed an adult's help. At least for a while. And if it got too difficult, they could always bug out again. Nibbling at her lower lip, Shannon finally met Andalor's eyes, and nodded. He smiled at her acceptance, but the grin faded with her next words. "Any idea where to find this Mulder of yours?" Shannon instantly saw the answer in his face and groaned aloud. She stared at him in frustration, while he openly winced. "I thought anyone would know where to find Mulder. Surely such a powerful Mage is well-known enough.... As his voice trailed off in growing confusion, Shannon closed her eyes in exasperation, moaning aloud. Somehow she had the feeling that things were just going to get worse. End Chapter Nine =========================================================================== Chapter 10 Part A The sun was setting in a blaze of glory. Any other motorists driving down Mount Auburn Street that evening might have been awed, but the travellers from Washington were too tired to take much notice. The two cars made a left turn and continued halfway down the quiet, tree-lined road. At a word from one of the occupants, they turned left again and drove up an asphalt driveway to a huge white Dutch colonial. The gracious home sat up on a knoll, a rock garden covering the slope down to the sidewalk. It appeared to be thriving in spite of the unseasonable heat, and impatiens, phlox and coleus peaked out from outcroppings of granite. Rather than deserted, the house looked as though a congenial host could any minute step out into the driveway to welcome his guests. The Professor got out of the car with Mulder, and walked up the flagstone path to the portico. He tried the handle of the door without success. "Well, I didn't manage to bring my keys back from the Realm," Mulder said with a rueful smile. "I don't suppose you did any better?" "Didn't even take them with me, dear boy - not much point. Remember, my trip to the Realm was much less precipitous than yours. I left my keys with Karen, so she could arrange caretakers for the property - didn't want the neighbors complaining about the place falling to wrack and ruin. That's why I was hoping that she'd be here, or that I would have been able to contact her." The Professor looked around the yard. "I have to say that she's kept the place up nicely. Although I can't promise a full refrigerator and fresh sheets." The Professor walked across the grass to the slope and gingerly made his way down to the second tier of rock. Nudging aside a softball-sized stone, he felt around in the depression it had made, finally exclaiming with delight. He pulled up a small object, bright bronze where the dirt had fallen off. Brushing the remaining soil from it, he made his way back up the hill with Mulder's help and inserted the key in the lock. The door swung open easily. From her vantage point in the second car, Scully saw the Professor start to enter his home, only to be gently restrained by Mulder's hand on his shoulder. A few words were exchanged between the two men and then Mulder entered alone, tense, his hand reaching for his weapon as he crept in. Scully swung the car door open and located her own gun in her purse, ready to help if necessary. Several anxious minutes later, he reappeared and beckoned them all inside. Aldara, the only one other than the Professor to brave Mulder's driving, got out of his car and with Reinald, Jourdain and Scully formed a protective shield for Tarnor, in the center of their group. They entered the house quickly, locking the door behind them. Mulder was drawing the shades before turning on the lights. The Professor looked at his guests, exhausted from their traffic-plagued trip from Washington. "Just make yourselves at home. There's four bedrooms upstairs. Why don't you all go up and figure out the sleeping arrangements? I have something to do down here." The Professor watched the group start to go up the graceful staircase, then turned and headed toward the back of the house. He went into a large room, beautifully appointed with a magnificent oriental rug, Queen Anne furniture, and a huge fireplace adorned with an etched glass and brass screen. Quietly, he crossed the room to his desk, sat and reached for his Rolodex. Picking up the phone, he began dialing. "You're really worried about her, aren't you?" asked a soft voice from the doorway. Mulder entered the room and closed the door behind him. Neumann glanced up, then continued entering the number. "Yes, Mulder, I am. I know Karen, she's like a daughter to me. I know her habits, her patterns of behavior. I can't think of a time that I couldn't reach her either at work or at home." "People have to go out occasionally, Gunther," Mulder said reasonably. "Or maybe she took a vacation. Don't forget, you've been gone a few months, and it's not likely that she would leave a message just in case you decided to reappear." "I know," he said. "But I have the strangest feeling. I've just beeped her. If I don't get any response from that in the next few minutes, I want to go over to her house - it's only a couple of miles from here. I promise you I won't get any rest until I find out where she is." He smiled grimly. "Something's wrong, Mulder, and I can only hope to God that my work has nothing to do with it." The younger man looked at the older with a mixture of sympathy and affection. "All right, Gunther, whatever you say. We'll go check it out - now, if you like. Let me go tell Scully what's going on and I'll be ready." The Professor swallowed hard and nodded. Mulder's long legs took the stairs two at a time. "Scully?" "In here," called a disembodied voice. Mulder looked into the rooms as he passed down the hall. To his right, Jourdain and Aldara were struggling with sheets in a room with deep blue walls and stark white wainscoting. In a room with flowery wallpaper a bit further down the hall on his left, Tarnor was stretched out on one of the two twin beds while Reinald washed his face in the adjoining bathroom. "Scully? Scully, where are y- Oh, there you are. Nice choice, love." Mulder looked appreciatively around the room. The hardwood floors were dotted with handmade braided rugs and the colonial canopy bed was enough like their bed in the Realm to bring on a wave of nostalgia. His bondmate had just finished smoothing the covers in place, and she turned to him with a smile. //Brings back a lot of happy memories, doesn't it?\\ She reached up to clasp her arms around his neck. He smiled and nuzzled her hair for a few moments, then she felt his mind gently disengaging. She looked up at him questioningly. "Gunther's awfully worried about Karen Mather. He really feels there's something wrong. I'm just going to take him over to her house and see what we can find out. We won't be gone long." Scully nodded. "Okay. I'll get the rest of the living arrangements squared away and try to organize some food." Mulder grinned. //Do you think you can keep this crew out of trouble?\\ Scully poked her head out into the hallway, then turned back to him. //Yeah - they're beat. Now if they were well rested, I wouldn't have a prayer.\\ Her essence changed as she became more serious. //Be careful out there, love. Gunther isn't the only one with some "bad vibes" lately.\\ Mulder nodded and kissed her hard on the lips. "Don't worry." Then he was out the door and down the stairs. Scully watched him and the Professor get into her car and back down the driveway. She finished tidying the room and thought about the next order of business. She found Jourdain in the Blue Room. "Where's Aldara?" Almost shyly, he indicated the bathroom. Scully nodded. "Okay, then Jourdain, you get to make the executive decision - what do you want for dinner?" Hearing food mentioned, Tarnor bolted from his bed and knocked on the door jamb before entering. "Sorry, I couldn't help but overhear - did someone say dinner?" Scully laughed. "Tarnor, I'm beginning to think you may have troll blood." As she was explaining the possibilities she was joined by Aldara and then Reinald. Stunned by the variety of selections, the group found consensus impossible. "Aldara, you come with me - this is a job bigger than one person can handle. If I really have to go out for fried chicken, Big Macs, tacos and pizza, I'm going to have help!" Scully and Aldara were out the front door a few minutes later. Chatting as they were, they failed to notice the old sedan which suddenly braked in front of the Professor's house, then sped up again to vanish down the road. - - - - - "That's it, over there - third house on the right." Responding to the Professor's directions, Mulder slowly pulled over to the curb and shut off the lights and motor. From the outside, the house looked perfectly normal, the small yard orderly, the grass well-trimmed. "I would prefer you to stay here, Gunther. Let me check it out first, just in case, " requested Mulder. "Nonsense! I will not ask you to risk anything I am not also willing to risk. It wouldn't be honorable," replied Neumann, opening the car door. "Gunther, honor has nothing to d- Oh all right, you're out anyway. Let's try to be kind of quiet about this though, okay? It's getting dark, but that won't cover everything. And I go into the house first, understand?" "Perfectly." Mulder tried the door handle to find it locked, as he expected. Putting a finger to his lips and catching the Professor's eye, he slid between the house and a tall evergreen hedge and worked his way toward the side of the house, trying each window he came to. Neumann stood on the front steps, trying to look inconspicuous. A few minutes later, the front door opened a few inches and a hand appeared from nowhere to grasp his wrist and pull him inside. "I owe Karen a new basement window, but we're in," said Mulder, keeping his voice low. "You do realize that this is breaking and entering, don't you, and if someone calls the cops we're screwed?" He intentionally kept his flashlight aimed low. The Professor nodded, distracted, staring around him. It didn't take a lot of light for him to see that the place was deserted and had been for some time. Mulder laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder and conducted a brief but comprehensive search of the first floor. Then he returned to the living room to join the Professor on the large couch. "No one's been here for several weeks, as far as I can tell," he said to the old gentleman in a soft voice. "The houseplants are all long since dead and the kitchen calendar is still on August. There's dust everywhere, and what food was left in the refrigerator could pass for a middle school science project by now." He paused to think, rubbing his upper lip with a fingernail, then began to speak again as if to himself. "There's no direct evidence of violence - no signs of a struggle - but still.... This house was not 'closed' as it would have been if someone knew they were going away for a while - the plants would have been set outside or given away, the refrigerator would have been cleaned out, the furniture covered, possibly the electricity, phone and water turned off. This house has been deserted, abandoned in a sudden, unplanned event. Let me check the second floor." He rose and noiselessly glided up the stairs. Neumann sat stunned on the couch. In spite of his earlier forebodings, his mind tried to reject the evidence it saw. To accept that evidence meant the threat of terror and violence and tragedy, something he thought he had left behind with his early life in Nazi Germany. He was startled from his troubled thoughts by Mulder's return. "Nothing up there that would add anything to what we found down here. I think we have to accept the idea that something has happened." Mulder returned to his seat on the couch next to Neumann, uncomfortable in his thoughts. "Umm...Gunther, ...do you know if Karen was ill, by any chance?" "You think she's dead, don't you?" Mulder shrugged and looked unhappy. "It would explain what we've found here, Gunther. I don't like to think about that possibility any more than you do, but I think we have to face it." "Well, what would have happened to her daughter?" Mulder's brows rose. "I didn't realize that she had a child." "Karen has been a single mother for some time now. She and Shannon do not get along well, however. Haven't for years. The girl was repeatedly in trouble. Nothing serious, mind you. Mainly truancy, and running away, though Karen always found her within hours and brought her home. It was the only part of her life in which Karen kept me at a distance, so I can't tell you much more than that." "Well, if something happened to Karen I assume her will would have stipulated some sort of arrangements for the girl. But now that you mention it, Gunther, that IS strange...." Mulder was silent for several minutes, thinking furiously. "The yard is perfectly kept....What would you say this neighborhood is like? The sorts of people who live here?" Neumann's face held a ghost of a smile. "I used to tease Karen about that sometimes. This is the very essence of 'Yuppie' around here. Mostly couples who are professional people, work Monday through Friday and then spend the weekend at their condos in Marblehead or on the Cape or up in the mountains in New Hampshire. Why do you ask?" "In other words, no friendly and attentive neighbors, no one who would be likely to ask questions about why they hadn't seen her around. Just as long as there was nothing to focus attention on the fact that she wasn't here - like an overgrown lawn. I suspect, Gunther, that someone has been keeping up appearances for the neighbors." Mulder was silent again for a few minutes. He put his head close to the Professor's and, speaking softly, confirmed the man's suspicions as gently as he could. "I think Karen was kidnapped, and possibly her daughter as well. I can't say whether they are alive or not, but evidently someone wants it to look like they are. There are some things I can check, but not until morning." He looked over at the Professor, who appeared to have aged several years in the brief minutes since they had entered the house. "I'm sorry, Gunther. I'll do everything I can, call in all my markers on this one." With a confidence he didn't feel, he continued, "We'll find them. Try not to worry." - - - - - Mulder put down the telephone and rubbed his forehead wearily. He had slept poorly the previous night, despite the happy associations of the canopy bed. Too much on his mind, he had decided, somewhere around 3:15 a.m. Now it appeared that they were looking for two or possibly three missing persons instead of just one. Mulder was thankful only that his news was not worse. He left the study and went down the hall to the formal dining room where the rest of the group was finishing their breakfast. Scully had already received the bad news via their connection. She pushed a fresh cup of coffee over to him as he joined everyone at the table. Gratefully, Mulder took a long swallow of his coffee and then looked up to find himself the focus of attention. His features twisted into a grimace that was supposed to be a smile and he sighed. "Okay, I have good news and I have bad news. For good news, neither Karen nor Andalor has turned up at any area hospitals, nor have there been any bodies found that bear their descriptions. Neither are they in jail. I contacted the utility companies, since the power and phone were working at Karen's house. The bills for both Karen's property as well as the Professor's house have been paid regularly with checks from Karen's checking account and apparently signed by her. The envelopes had Boston postmarks. So some of the more unpleasant possibilities have been reduced - though not eliminated, I'm sorry to say. As far as bad news goes, it still means we have no idea where either Karen or Andalor might be, or what kind of trouble they might be in. I'm open to suggestions about how to proceed." Jourdain looked serious. "From what I have seen, your world is huge and contains so many people that our task is enormous. Therefore, I recommend splitting into teams to lessen our work and save time. Since it appears we now have two problems rather than one, perhaps one team should attempt to find Andalor, and the other should try to find Karen. Mulder should be on one team and Scully on the other to bring their skills and training to both. As for the rest of us, perhaps if we choose a team? Or perhaps Mulder and Scully can choose the members of their teams. But we must move fast. Every moment that passes increases the danger for Andalor, and perhaps for the Professor's colleague as well." Scully and Mulder looked at each other and communicated briefly. Then Scully spoke. "All right. I'll head up the team looking for Karen, and I assume you will want to be on that team, Professor". The older man nodded his assent. "I need at least one other person. Volunteers?" Reinald raised his hand and looked her straight in the eyes. "Reinald? Are you sure?" asked a surprised Scully. "I would have thought you would want to be on the team looking for Andalor." The Mage nodded. "In some ways I would. But I fear my attachment for the boy might inadvertently hinder the team in some way. And besides, there is the larger consideration of magic. Mulder still has his magical capabilities, so his team has that as a resource. Scully's team should have the same weapon to use, if necessary. Therefore I must be on whatever team Scully leads." He smiled at the auburn-haired agent. "Thank you, Reinald," Scully said warmly. "All right," said Mulder. "That means you're both with me, Jourdain and Aldara. Okay by you?" Aldara nodded. "As long as I'm with Jourdain, it's okay by me. >From what Daanna saw in her vision, I feel it is necessary for us to stay together. But what about Tarnor? Daanna said it was necessary for Tarnor to be with us." Mulder looked troubled. "Tarnor, I - " Tarnor shook his huge gray head. "It's all right, Mulder. I realize I can't go out with the teams. I don't think I'd be doing any team any good if I had to spend all my time running for my life. Is there a function I could serve here, perhaps?" "A very necessary function, Tarnor. With everyone having to split up and for us having two different problems to solve, we're going to need someone to provide back-up communication between the teams, especially if something happens to the cellular phones. Also, I've left the Professor's number with some of the people I contacted today, and they may be calling here with information. Of course, Scully and I are bonded and have some ability to communicate through that bond. But how much and how clearly we can communicate is dependent on distance, and we have no idea how distant we may be from each other today. So when all else fails - the phones and our bond-link - it will be up to you to keep us in touch with each other. Scully can show you how the phone works." "But Mulder, what about the prophecy?" asked Aldara anxiously. Scully patted her friend's hand. "We can't risk Tarnor going out, Aldara. He knows what happened the last time he was here. Maybe Tarnor's staying here IS going to fulfill the prophecy in some way, we just don't know." Worried, Aldara nodded and clasped her husband's hand. "Very well," said Jourdain. "Everyone should have the portraits of Andalor with them, and you should be armed. We must be ready for anything." ------------------------ End Chpt10 Part A ------------------------ =========================================================================== Chapter Ten Part B Gordon glanced up at the knock on his door. "Come", he said, without enthusiasm. One look at who had entered and he was even less enthusiastic, if indeed that were possible. With a 'why me' expression on his face, he threw his pen down on the desk and stared at his visitor. "Yes, what is it?" Earl was nervous, and it showed. "I dunno, boss, somethin' weird happened last night and I was thinkin' about it all night and decided I'd better tell you about it." "Well, go on, for God's sake. Don't waste my time." "Okay, okay. It's just that - you know how you put me in charge of getting the guy to take care of the outside of the Doc's place and her boss's place, right? Well, I hired this guy named Fred who I knew when we was both in Walpole." Earl wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and rocked from one foot to the other. Gordon sighed. This was definitely going nowhere fast. "Yes?" "Well, somethin' weird happened last night." "Look, are you going to get to the point soon, Earl? Because if not, I have plenty of things to do." "Yeah, yeah, okay, it was like this, see. I gets a call late last night from Fred Rollins, he's the guy I hired to take care of the - " "We have been through this once already, Earl," Gordon said through clenched teeth, mentally cursing his boss. He had a few things to say to that nicotine-addicted son of a bitch when he got back to Washington. If this project was so goddamn important, the least he could do is give Gordon enough up-front cash to enable him to hire someone other than the morons that were willing to work for peanuts. Or free up some of the operatives that had done such nice work for that damn Morley poster-boy in Washington. Like that kid who was so promising, Alex something or other. "Yeah. Well. Fred calls me last night and says did we know someone was in the Professor's house?" "What?" Gordon's voice slashed out. "Who was at the Professor's house?" "Well, now, he didn't know 'em himself. But he said that there was two ladies that he saw coming out of the house about seven o'clock last night. See, he was drivin' by on his way to Bingo at Sacred Heart, and it's not right on his way, but he likes to check it out for himself every once in a while - the Professor's house, get it?" "Yes, I 'get it'. What did they look like?" Earl looked blank. "Who?" It was only by a superhuman exertion of restraint that Gordon did not pull out his revolver and put the lackey out of his misery. "The two women." "Oh - he said one had red hair and one had black hair. But it was pretty dark out, so he wasn't too sure." "Is there any chance one of them could be Karen's kid?" Gordon's stare was ice cold and penetrating. "Karen's... oh, you mean the Doc. Her kid. Oh! The one that escaped outta here! I never thought of that. I dunno, boss, maybe. Fred wasn't sure of too much. He went drinkin' after Bingo, and he didn't call me 'til after that, so he was pretty well tanked by the time he called me." "Just as a matter of interest, Earl. What time was it when Fred called you?" "Well, I guess it was pretty close to midnight. I was just -" "And what time is it now?" "Umm - pretty close to nine thirty." "Earl, get the hell out before I lose control of myself and kill you where you stand. And tell Karen to get her ass in here." The oaf looked transfixed for a few moments while the message of his boss's words sank in. Then he came to what few senses he had and jumped. "All right, boss, right away." From the description, it didn't sound like Karen's brat, Gordon thought, but dealing with people like Fred and Earl, anything was possible. Shannon would probably have known about the Professor, known that he had disappeared, known that the house would be empty. A perfect place for her to hole up until - what? Gordon pondered. Maybe the kid and Karen had a plan set up, just in case one of them escaped. Although from what he had seen, there was little love lost between them. Well, regardless, something had to be done. There was a perfunctory knock at the door, and Karen entered, followed by an anxious-looking Earl. "Here she is, boss." "Fine. Now stand there and shut up." He turned his attention to Karen, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed her. "I wonder what you have up your sleeve, Karen. I can never figure out what's going on in that head of yours. Where's your daughter?" "Shannon? I don't have any idea. Why would I? We've never taken any prizes in communication." Karen coolly walked to the chair in front of the desk and sat. "Does she know Professor Neumann? Does she know where he lives?" "She's met him, but it has been a while." Karen was puzzled - why was Gordon asking these questions. "I have an experiment to get back to - if you're finished?" She started to get up. "SIT down! No, I am not finished. Evidently, two females were spotted coming out of Professor Neumann's house last night. Do you know anything about that?" The look of bewilderment on Karen's face was obviously genuine. "No, I don't know anything about it." Furiously, she began thinking. Maybe if Shannon had met up with one of her street friends... She knew that Shannon was aware of where the Professor lived, although she had taken as little interest in that as she had any of her mother's business. It was just possible Shannon had gone there, knowing that she couldn't go home. Her attention was dragged away from her thoughts by Gordon's voice. "It has to be checked out. Earl, you and Rollins take Karen over to Professor Neumann's house. You are to have your gun on her at all times, do you understand? If the girl is there, tell her you'll kill her mother if she doesn't come with you." He was interrupted by Karen's humorless laugh. "You'll have to think of a bigger threat than that, Gordon. She couldn't care less if I lived or died." Gordon surveyed her coldly. "If Karen is dead, we certainly have no need for her daughter. If the girl won't come with you, kill them both - got it, Earl?" "Yeah, boss." As far as Gordon was concerned, the only advantage to Earl was that he was totally without morals or conscience. It wouldn't bother him a bit to kill two women. Again, the operative turned his attention to Karen. "You'll leave immediately." "That's not possible. I'm midway through the next series of trials. You know as well as I do that if I stop now, it will take days to set up everything so we can start again. Of course, it's up to you," Karen concluded sarcastically. She was relieved she had started the trial - especially if it would buy a little time for Shannon, if she were at the Professor's house. Gordon thought. Damn, he hated it when that bitch was right. "Alright, I assume if you're midway, that means you'll be finished in about three hours, correct?" Grudgingly, the scientist nodded. "Very well, you'll go then. Since Earl didn't bother to inform me until more than twelve hours had passed since they were sighted, I don't suppose another three hours will make much difference." He strolled over to Karen and ran the back of a finger down her cheek, then roughly grabbed her chin to force her to look at him. In a deceptively soft voice he said, "Don't make the mistake of underestimating me, Karen. While your services are helpful and a time-saver, at this point you are NOT indispensable, do I make myself clear?" - - - - - Scully found a place to park on the campus with some difficulty. She and her companions got out of the car and started the long walk back to the building that housed the Professor's lab, where this adventure had started seemingly very long ago. "Gunther, is that you? Where the bloody hell have you been, old man?" "Edgar! Don't tell me you've duped some misguided government agency into actually funding your research. What was it - something about the sleep cycles of ferrets?" The tall gaunt German embraced his short, round British colleague and then performed introductions. He passed Reinald off as Scully's grandfather. "Edgar, I don't suppose you have seen Karen around, have you? I haven't seen her since I got back." "No, sorry. I only got back here myself the beginning of September, and haven't seen her at all. Which reminds me, old boy, back from where? One day you were here, the next day, poof! You were gone. Provoked a lot of speculation, I can tell you." The Professor smiled tightly. "Yes, I'm sure. Well, I guess you could say I've been in Shangri-La, in a lot of ways. Look, if you do see Karen, let her know that I'm back and looking for her, will you? Nice bumping into you, Edgar. Goodbye." Several paces later the Professor leaned in close to his companions. "He's the biggest gossip on this campus. If he hasn't seen Karen or heard of where she is, I fear we may not find out anything useful here." The group crossed a large open plaza set here and there with modernistic sculptures. In spite of the urgency of their mission, Reinald found himself fascinated by the structures, and turned to gaze back over his shoulder at them long after they had left the plaza. Their path led them through a small park under a riot of color - the scarlet of the maple leaves and the russet and gold of the oaks and elms. Today, the hot spell had finally snapped and it was somewhat more seasonable for an autumn day in New England. "We may find out something now," the Professor whispered. "That rather odd young man you see coming towards us on his bike - that's Alvin Milvale, used to be a graduate assistant of mine. He ended up changing his area of concentration again - I believe he holds the MIT record for that, actually. He's a bit bizarre, but knows what's going on. The only trouble is separating the facts from his paranoid ramblings." The professor straightened up and waved. "Hello, Alvin!" "That you, Neumann?" The young man approached cautiously, suspicion plainly on his face. "Where have you been and who's that with you?" Once again the Professor introduced his companions. "It's nice to be back. How are you doing in your work, Alvin? What is it now, metallurgy?" "Yeah. It's okay, for now." Alvin continued to look distrustfully at Scully and Reinald. "So where were you? You wouldn't believe the stories that were going around about you." "I'm almost afraid to ask." "Yeah, I don't blame you." The young man nodded emphatically, setting his purple-tinted dreadlocks bouncing. "There was the story about you being at the Betty Ford Center - I enjoyed that one but didn't believe it. A lot of people did though, especially the Administration types. That bunch also liked the one about your falling in love with a sixteen year old cult member and leaving to join her cult. The grad assistants also liked that one - you know what a bunch of hopeless romantics they are." He edged closer to the group, and winked a pale green eye conspiratorially. "Go on, you can tell me what really happened, Professor, because I think I already know." "R-really?" Neumann's voice came out strangled. He sincerely hoped that his travels through the Vortex were not public knowledge. "And what do you think happened, Alvin?" The young man had held his theories private for long enough. He looked triumphantly at the Professor. "You were abducted by aliens, weren't you?" Scully immediately quashed her impulse to laugh. Take away the purple hair and the nose rings and he could be a Lone Gunman. Maybe even with them, now that she thought about it. Reinald, not knowing what an alien was, merely looked politely receptive. "Yes, well, it's all a bit hazy," muttered Neumann. "Alvin, I don't suppose you've seen Karen around, have you? "No. In fact, that was another of the stories going around. She kinda just disappeared out of the blue - kinda like you did. Most of the guys in Physics thought that you took off first to find a love nest, and then she followed you there." Neumann shook his head to clear that image from his mind. "When did she disappear?" "Just before everyone came back from summer break, maybe end of August. Your lab's been locked up since then. Need the key? I was going to return it eventually, anyway." Alvin began to thread the key off a chain that had close to fifty keys on it. Seeing their eyes on it, he explained defensively, "When you've been a grad assistant in seven or eight different departments, you tend to collect these." He handed the key to Neumann. " See you around - and if you ever decide to tell me about the aliens, I'd really like to know. I've been thinking about giving Space Medicine or Astronomy a try." The young man rode off without so much as a backward glance. Another ten minutes' walk finally brought them to the Professor's building. They trudged up the steps familiar to both Scully and Neumann to the outer door of his lab. He inserted the key Alvin had given him into the lock and pushed open the door. The anteroom looked much as Scully remembered it from the last time she had been there, at the beginning of the summer - stark and uninviting. He used the key again to open the inner door to the lab itself and switched on the light. He stood completely still as he panned around the room. Scully followed his eyes, noting equipment much like she had seen on her previous visits. "No." The word was flat, final, like a stone dropped in the middle of a deep lake. Scully turned questioningly to him. He crossed the room to a computer resting on the counter and logged on. Several times he tried to access files only to find they were not in the device's memory. Next he flicked switches on an adjacent machine, with no results. Almost frantic, he went from machine to machine, pushing buttons, adjusting dials and leaning over to read displays. Finally he straightened up and turned to Scully. "This isn't my equipment," he said. "These are all elaborate fakes." - - - - - Mulder drew a hand down the back of his head to the tense knots in his neck. The trip to the Boston office of the FBI had been less than successful - much less than successful. Now he and Jourdain and Aldara stood in the concrete expanse of Government Center and pondered their next move. "Look," he said. "We might as well go to the nearest police station and get into their computers to see if anyone has reported seeing Andalor." He was sick with disappointment and frustration that nothing had been heard of the boy at the FBI office - that indeed, they claimed never to have received Scully's faxed composite sketch. He thought he knew who was responsible for that - the same person who treated Jourdain and Aldara to nearly twenty minutes of "Spooky Mulder" stories. The recitation was accompanied by the laughter of the other agents in the office, lounging indolently on desks. Jourdain glowered more with every story and Aldara was infuriated, but Charley had taken no notice of their response. The swift departure of Mulder and his party was inspired less by Mulder's personal humiliation and embarrassment for the Bureau, than by his very reasonable conce rn that his companions might start to wipe the floor with the entire contingent of Boston FBI agents. Rather than get the car out of the garage and have to deal with finding another parking space, the trio walked across the modernistic plaza and through the narrow, historic streets to the nearest police station. Aldara laid a comforting hand on Mulder's arm and received an all-too-rare smile in return. "It's okay, Aldara, it doesn't bother me," he said. "I just hate the time we've lost in looking for Andalor, and I hate the fact that they made the Bureau look like a bunch of jerks. They're not all like that," he explained wryly. "Just most of them." They rounded a corner to see an historic brick building with a blue light outside. "This must be the place," Mulder said. They entered and Mulder flashed his badge at the desk sergeant. The officer put down the stack of papers he was reading and turned his full attention to the group - a decidedly odd looking group, with a clean-cut guy who didn't need a badge to identify him as Government, a knockout babe and a middle aged guy who looked like he would be a rough customer in a fight. "Yessir, and what can I do for you?" "We're looking for a kid - this kid," he replied, giving a copy of the composite sketch of the Prince to the officer. The cop gave the sketch a cursory look and looked at Mulder speculatively. "What do you want him for? He looks a little young to have broken any Federal laws." "No, no Federal laws broken," Mulder said smoothly. "His parents are in the Witness Protection Program and are due to testify in a big drug cartel case. The kid had a fight with them about something and ran away. Now the parents are saying they won't testify unless we find him and bring him back." Not being the best natural prevaricator in the world, Mulder was glad he had fashioned a cover story in advance. "These his parents?" "Ah, no. No, these are...representatives of the WPP." The desk sergeant put on his glasses and tapped at the keyboard in front of him. "Name?" "Uhh...I can't give you that - Program rules." Mulder turned to Aldara for assistance. She nodded. "That's right. He would probably not be using his own name anyway so it is pointless to give it to you." Both of her male companions looked on approvingly. The sergeant peered down at her over the tops of his glasses, then wordlessly went back to his computer, entering the description of the boy from the sketch. He pressed the enter key and sat back. Within seconds, the monitor screen began to fill with lines of data. "Okay! Here's something. We have one kid in lockup that could be the kid you're looking for. Your kid have a record?" "No." "Well, that's not him then. Wait a minute...yeah, here's something. We had a report of a gang fight yesterday - one of the local bunch that's always up to no good. That's not news, but apparently the people they went after were not as helpless as they had hoped. A boy and a girl, and the boy answers the description of the kid you're looking for. We'd like to talk to that young man ourselves, actually. I'm sure it was self-defense, knowing this bunch of thugs, but it seems your kid stabbed one of the gang members, kid by the name of Francis. Francis is at Boston City in the ICU, but it looks like he's going to make it." Mulder put a hand to his face in the pose he usually adopted when thinking furiously. "I don't suppose it would be possible to interview the kid in the hospital, would it?" he said after several moments. "Fraid not. They won't let us talk to him either." Noting the disappointment on their faces, the desk sergeant took pity on them and smiled. "Hey, I can do something for you, though, if you think you can handle it. I can tell you this gang's turf, you can go down there and talk to these kids yourself, maybe get an idea from them where your kid went. They're probably out for blood, so watch yourselves. Don't know whether I'd take the little lady with you." Jourdain grunted, a small smile on his face. Mulder covered a laugh with a cough. "Actually, she can take care of herself pretty well." For her part, Aldara's face burned, her stance and expression making her look extremely dangerous at that moment. The cop gave them directions to an extremely bad neighborhood in Dorchester, and again warned them to be careful. Mulder left his card on the desk and offered his hand to the officer. The two shook warmly. "Thanks. You've been extremely helpful." Once outside, Aldara gave vent to her frustrations and cursed inventively in New Realm, leaving Mulder snickering. "Okay, we'll need the car, although I don't expect to keep the wheels for very long in the neighborhood we're headed to. Let's go back to the parking garage." -------------------------- End Chpt10 Part B -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Ten Part C The three walked down the street, their eyes never stopping as they searched all the alleys and vacant buildings where gang members were likely to hang out. But over an hour of walking the filthy, noisome streets had been fruitless, and time was on all of their minds. Mulder drew the three into a loading bay. "I don't think we're going to get anywhere with this approach - we just look too threatening. Aldara, what if you went ahead? We'll stay within shouting distance, and most of the time we'll stay close enough to see you. But I think we're going to have to use some bait, or we'll never get these guys to come out." Aldara's emerald eyes glittered. "You mean that because I appear weak, they will be more likely to come after me." Mulder looked at her directly and nodded. "That's exactly what I mean. No offense, Aldara, but you do look like you'd be a pushover. Jourdain and I know that you're a lethal weapon, but it would surprise the hell out of anyone else." He smiled at her, hopeful that he had not insulted her. He knew how sensitive she was about the slight limp. Fortunately she took it with good grace. "Just another of my weapons, Mage Mulder - the element of surprise," she said, flashing him a brilliant grin. "Okay, where do you want me to go?" While Mulder was pointing out a likely road through the slum, Jourdain kept silent. The gods knew that he did not want to subject his wife to whatever animals were out there, no matter how near to her he and Mulder were going to be. But he knew that Aldara would deeply resent any interference on his part. She still considered herself a warrior. Indeed her skills were equal in many ways to his own. It was just that he had never quite lost the urge to protect his diminutive wife, no matter how little she needed protection. He was only afraid that at some point, wildcat that she was, she would find herself in a situation where she was not able to fend for herself. Unhappy about the plan, he nonetheless stayed quiet. "And remember, Aldara - try to look vulnerable," Mulder smiled. "You're looking far too dangerous at the moment." She suddenly lost the look of a warrior about to go into battle, and instead appeared to shrink before their eyes. She started off down the street, walking close to the sides of the buildings, limping heavily. She seemingly paid no attention to her surroundings, humming distractedly and weaving a bit, as if she had been drinking. Mulder and Jourdain followed on the opposite side of the street, about a hundred yards back. The younger man could feel the tension in his friend which intensified as the pair lost sight of Aldara when she lurched around a corner. Her singing was louder now, the voice tuneless, the words slurred. Without warning, the song was broken off. An arm reached out and grabbed her, dragging her into the alley. Savagely, she was shoved into the wall, striking her cheekbone and opening up a small gash which began to bleed. Rough hands pulled her around to face her assailants. "Aw shit, Jackie, ya messed her up. She woulda been more fun pretty. Okay, lady, let's us have a good time." The punk approached her, a knowing grin on his face, his eyes on hers, hungry to see the fear in them. He grabbed her shirt and began to pull on it, bringing her closer to him, his smile getting more and more lewd. Suddenly, he saw the fear leave her eyes, to be replaced by something more like what he saw in other guys' eyes when they went looking for trouble. Puzzled, he relaxed his grip slightly for only a second, but it was enough. Aldara spun, kicking him hard in the groin at the same time as she drew the lethal six inch blade from its sheath on her arm. He went down heavily, clutching himself and turning a sick shade of green. As footsteps thundered towards her from the street, she turned to his companion. "What about you, you pig?" she taunted. The kid rushed at her as Mulder and Jourdain exploded into the alley. Distracted, Aldara let him get closer to her than he ordinarily would have. Her hand flashing out, she slashed open his cheek and sliced off an earlobe with an elegant economy of movement. "We're even now, trash," she said as Jourdain tackled the youth to the ground and pinned him there. She wiped the blood from her blade on the punk's clothing and then returned it to its hiding place. "You boys have been naughty, haven't you?" Mulder said softly, leaning against the wall of the alley. "If the little lady" - he flashed a look of apology to Aldara - " can do this, just think what the Big Guy can do. Now, I strongly suggest that you cooperate, because I really wouldn't want your blood splashing all over my suit, okay? I need you to answer some questions for me." The two punks looked at him sullenly, one holding his crotch and the other the place where his earlobe used to be. "I hope that was a yes," Mulder smiled coldly. "Now, tell me about the kid that stuck your buddy yesterday." The pair remained silent. Mulder sighed. "Joudain...." "NO! No, I'll answer," said the punk who wasn't bleeding. "It was a kid, a few years younger than us. Blond hair, freakin' weird purple eyes, man. He was with some chick - musta been related to this bitch, she was a fighter, too. I dunno what's happenin' to this neighborhood, man. Hey, wait!!" His words were choked off, as Jourdain could not let an obvious insult to his wife pass without some sort of action. "That's enough, Jourdain," Mulder said mildly. "This him?" Mulder showed the kid Andalor's sketch and he nodded grudgingly. "All right then, where did this kid go?" The punk rubbed his throat and glowered at Jourdain. "I dunno, he coulda went anywhere. After he stuck Frankie, him and the bitch took off that way." He indicated a general southerly direction. "I'll tell ya somethin' though - it looked like they was running away from somebody." "Okay. I'll call an ambulance for you gentlemen. And I wouldn't bother to lodge a complaint against the lady - you'll be laughed out of town by both the cops and the other gangs on the street." One look at the faces of the two told Mulder that reporting being carved up by a woman half their size was the last thing they were going to do. While Jourdain tenderly wiped his wife's face clean of blood and dirt, Mulder cuffed the pair through a drainpipe to ensure they would not go anywhere. He left the key in plain sight but out of reach. Then he phoned for the ambulance. "Okay, let's go," he said to Jourdain and Aldara. They found their car still in one piece, but even that did not negate their disappointment. They had all been hoping for more of a lead to Andalor's whereabouts than they got. It was a huge city and they still had no idea where in it the Prince might be. The thought that he might have been pursued by persons unknown did not help their anxiety. They got into the car and drove in the direction of South Boston. Picking up his cellular phone, Mulder dialed Scully's number. - - - - - Scully sat in the conference room in which she and Mulder had told the Professor of their incredible experiences in the Realm the previous Spring. The mood, however, was not similar in the least. It was a disconsolate man who sat here before her. Neumann had known there was something wrong when he went to Karen's house the previous night. But now he had to accept the fact that not only was she missing, but it was very likely that his work with the Vortex had something to do with her disappearance. And he was having a very hard time with it. "Look, Gunther, I know it looks bad. With all that substituted equipment in there, it does look as though Karen may have been taken by someone planning to use your equipment and her brain to carry out some sort of clandestine research." "There can be no other explanation, Scully. And whoever is doing it has a lot of money and power behind them." The Professor looked at her, his color pale, his eyes full of guilt and pain. "The equipment in there is useless, but that doesn't mean that it was cheap. There's probably $20,000 worth of bogus hardware in there, and it's just a very good smokescreen. And I suspect considerable power was very quietly exerted to prevent her disappearance from becoming a cause celebre." "Professor, remember when Mulder and I came back from the Realm and you were going to have your lab swept for bugs? What ever happened with that?" Scully asked. She had a glimmering of an idea that would explain everything. "Yes, I arranged for the lab to be checked for listening devices, and a couple were found. Both were state of the art, and were the subject of much admiration by the friend who did the work. I let him keep them." "Any idea when they may have been planted?" "The most obvious time is when the storm troopers from Hanscom came in, looking for you and Mulder. I can't think when else it might have been." "So they had about a day and a half to pick up information," Scully muttered. Louder, she asked, "This is important. I know it's been a long time, but can you remember anything that might have been said during those 36 hours?" "My dear, a gargoyle had suddenly appeared in the lab, and a few hours later, you and Mulder and the gargoyle disappeared into thin air from the same lab. What do you think Karen and I were discussing, the weather? We discussed nothing BUT the strange occurrences, and what the import might be to our experiments. Although I can certainly say now that I wish I hadn't." The Professor leaned his elbows on the conference table and held his head in his hands. Scully was silent for a few minutes. "With Karen and your equipment, do you think that whoever is responsible for the abduction would be able to create vortexes?" "I don't doubt it for an instant. I think Karen is being compelled somehow to cooperate with them - she would never voluntarily do it. But yes, they would be as capable as I am myself." Slowly, Scully nodded. It was becoming clearer - the answer to so many of their questions. "All the bills that have been paid out of Karen's account have local postmarks. That doesn't prove anything, but I think that it's a small enough detail that it might have been missed if she were being held at any distance." She became surer of her idea as she talked. "I think Karen is still in the area, with her abductors. It would have been less complicated to transport both her and the equipment a short distance than a long one." She grimaced slightly. "And, although it is certainly less scientific, I somehow "feel" that she is close by." "Listen to those feelings, Scully," Reinald said gravely. "Corvay has immense respect for your psychic abilities, an opinion which I share. No matter how uncomfortable you are with that, your talents are a fact." She did indeed seem uncomfortable, squirming in her chair with a disquieted expression on her face. "Well, I have other feelings about this. Professor, where did you say it was most likely that Andalor emerged from the Vortex?" "Oh, within a five mile radius of here - no more than that." She was silent a few moments, then sighed. "Okay. I may be crazy, but I think the same people that are responsible for Karen's disappearance may also know something about Andalor." She looked at her companions to judge their reaction to her statement, half expecting outright derision, but both had thoughtful expressions on their faces as they considered her theory. "Hmmm. Possible." The Professor turned to his companions, showing more animation. "I have done some preliminary work - all on paper and in theory, mind you - on the hypothesis that there is some sort of attraction between vortexes. Not magnetism, in fact not a force like anything else, something new. If - and it would be a considerable coincidence - if Andalor were travelling in his Vortex about the same time that this unknown group was conducting a vortex experiment, it is possible that the two would influence each other. And it is possible, if my attraction theory is correct, that Andalor could have emerged at the vortex that was created on this world." Just as she was considering the implications of the Professor's statement her cellular phone beeped. "Hello?" "Hi," Mulder's voice responded. "Wish I had better news to give you. We're kind of stalled here. The Bureau was a washout - Charley Floyd's fine handiwork again. We had some better luck at the cop shop - found a gang who had been involved in a fight with a kid answering Andalor's description, right down to the purple eyes." "Is he alright?" Scully's voice was troubled. If her theory was correct, it didn't seem possible that Andalor would be out getting into gang fights. "Yeah, fine. Put one of the gang in the hospital. With a little coaxing, the punks said that it seemed like Andalor was on the run from something." "Mulder, that's it!" Excitedly, Scully told her partner her theory. "That must mean Andalor escaped somehow and is on the run." "Did your vibes pick up anything else?" Mulder asked. "Because apparently he has a female companion." Scully relayed the information to the Professor and Reinald. "Did he get a description of the girl?" inquired the Professor. She repeated the question for Mulder. "No, just that apparently she was quite a handful, did almost as much damage to the gang as Andalor." The Professor almost smiled. "That certainly COULD be Shannon. It's not much of a description, but what there is fits her very well." "Trouble is, Scully, that we're pretty much at a standstill out here. We're just driving around in the general direction he was headed in, but it's a hell of a long-shot to think that we'll spot him just walking around somewhere. And we really don't have any better course of action right now." Scully paused, then said, "Why don't you take a few more minutes to check around that area. If you still feel that the trail is cold and you're just wasting your time, then why don't you meet us over at the Professor's house and we can figure out our next step. Who knows - maybe something will happen to give us a lead." - - - - - Rollins drove up the driveway and shut off the engine. In the back seat, Earl nudged Karen with his silenced Beretta and she opened the door and slowly got out. "I don't think anyone will be at home," she said loudly. "Shut up, bitch," Rollins demanded. "Do you want the whole neighborhood to know we're here?" Something like that, she thought grimly. Anything to warn Shannon, if she were in the house, that she was about to have visitors and to give her some time to hide. Inside, Tarnor had heard the car drive up. He had wandered through the house for a good portion of the morning. The phone had been silent, except for a call from Mulder checking to see that everything was all right. He had been getting a little bored. Peeking between the slats of the venetian blinds at the dining room window, he saw Dr. Mather, whom he recognized from his last trip to this world. With her were two enormous men, one of whom had a shooting weapon pressed into her side. Tarnor released the blind and stepped back to think. These were the men who had kidnapped Karen, and suddenly it was up to him to do something about it. The trio outside walked slowly to the door. Karen searched her purse for her key-ring, dropped it not once but twice, and proceeded to try several keys in the lock. Patience exhausted, Earl kicked in the door and shoved Karen inside. He and Rollins followed. "What the hell - " Earl's eyes bugged out his head and his jaw became slacker than usual as he watched a gray monster levitate itself to hover three feet above the floor. Terrified, Rollins stumbled backwards and into the wall, then stumbled to his feet and raced out the door. Seconds later, the car's engine roared into life, accompanied by the squeal of the tires. Tarnor spread his arms and focused his energy. A deep blue aura radiated from him to completely surround him. Slowly he began to descend to the floor at the same rate that Earl began to rise. The mage fluttered his fingers. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then the hapless man's feet flew out from under him as he somersaulted through the air. Karen sprang back to hug the wall to avoid flailing limbs as the man writhed in mid-air. Eerie sounds began to emerge from his throat as he cartwheeled around the room. Tarnor flipped his hand palmside up, and seconds later Earl was upright again. Just for an instant, the gargoyle crossed his eyes. Earl shot forward to slam his head into the wall with a sickening thud. His unconscious form hung limply in the air, until Tarnor relaxed his concentration. The aura faded and Earl fell to the ground. Quickly the gargoyle gathered the clothesline he had brought in and tied the thug's arms and legs together. At some point during his task, his mind registered the fact that he seemed not to be experiencing the weakness that had plagued Reinald's and Mulder's use of magic. Making sure that the man would not escape the bonds, he rolled him down the steps to the basement. Only then did Tarnor appear to take notice of Karen. He flashed his fearsome teeth in a gargoyle grin. "Dr. Mather! How delightful! It's been a long time." End of Chapter Ten =========================================================================== Chapter 11 Part A Finding a motel that would rent a room to a pair of teenagers wasn't as difficult as Shannon had expected - at least not once she plopped down enough cash to cover three nights. The bored, acne-scarred man in the motel office had been all smiles once his fist had closed around the crumpled bills. Minutes later, they had settled into the ugly plastic room with mutual relief, Andalor far too exhausted to be surprised by any new marvels this world might have to offer. Neither said much. By unspoken agreement, they decided to leave the decisions for the morning. Shannon shut herself in the bathroom, Andalor removed his boots and lay down across one side of the bed. He wasn't used to sharing a room, much less a bed, with anyone, especially a female, but right now he didn't have the energy to worry about it. Laying his head down on the pillow, he was sound asleep in seconds. Shannon luxuriated in the shower. Rusty, tiny, and sputtering it might be, but it was hot. Scrubbing at her hair with her bare hands, she resolved to hit a drugstore first thing in the morning. As she stepped out and dried herself with the thin, frayed towel, she yawned aloud. But exhausted as she was, she also felt a sense of satisfaction. Finally free of both Gordon and her mother, she had a full stomach, a clean - well semi-clean - place to sleep, and enough money to keep her going until she had a chance to figure things out. Pulling her overshirt and pants back on with a grimace of irritation, she mentally added visiting a clothes store to her list of things to do in the morning. Then she shook as much water out of her hair as she could, and left the bathroom. Yanking down the covers on the bed, she eased them under Andalor's sleeping form, then slid underneath them herself. Turning off the lamp by the bed, she settled down onto the pillow, unable to stifle another loud yawn. Before finally closing her eyes and joining him in the depths of slumber, she looked over at the shadow of his fair head against the pillow. "You'd better not snore!" she warned him. Then she too was instantly asleep. - - - - - Sunlight streaked across Andalor's shuttered eyes, and he threw his hand over his face to block it out. "Nnnnn," he murmured, twisting, half-asleep, fighting to get free of the hand that was insistently shaking him. "Come on!! Wake up," said a vibrant voice, tinged with irritation. "Leave me alone, Dorbo," he said, though his eyes slowly began to open. "Who's Dorbo?" Shannon asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him. "Come on, Andy, we haven't got all day. We need to get breakfast, do some shopping, then figure out how to find this Mulder of yours." Andalor's eyes popped fully open, and he stared up at her now-familiar face, his mouth falling open. It was real!! He was here, in Mulder's world. It hadn't been a dream. Shannon cocked her head at him as his expression wandered from shock to amazement to wonder. "You really are one strange dude, Andy," she said, getting up off the bed. Picking up his boots, she tossed them at him. "Hit the bathroom if you have to, then get your shoes on. Let's go!" "Bathroom?" he asked, though his eyes had already noticed the absence of a tub from the room. "Did they bring us water?" he asked, dropping the boots and heading for the smaller, adjoining room she had disappeared into the night before. He had been too tired to deal with it last night, but now his bladder was about to burst. It seemed strange to bathe and deal with other bodily functions in the same room, but he was willing to go along with the way things were here. "Bring us water?" Shannon answered a question with a question, shaking her head again. Sometimes it felt like they weren't quite speaking the same language. "Just use the sink..." her voice trailed off as he closed the connecting door. It was a while before she heard the sound of running water, but it came accompanied by a squeal of delight. - - - - - Once Shannon was able to draw Andalor out of the chamber of delights that was a modern bathroom, they made good progress on her list of chores. Andalor was amazed by the drugstore, his eyes turning a deep, brilliant purple as they recorded every sight and sound. He wasn't quite sure what many of the goods were, but Shannon was all business, and he followed her cues as best he could. Then breakfast, again at MacDonalds, and on to the clothes store. Andalor was in heaven. Beautiful garments, in such wonderful colors, and he didn't have to spend hours being fitted, or poked with pins and the seamstresses' needles. All he had to do was find something that fit, and he was done. It was glorious! By the time they got back to the motel room, it was well past noon, and they were overburdened with sacks and bags. Dumping his load beside the bed, Andalor collapsed onto it. Shannon followed suit. They lay there for a while, then Shannon got up and slid herself to the floor to start sorting things out. She made two piles, one for him, one for her, and simply tossed things in the appropriate direction. Andalor crawled over the bed, and lay down prone across it, resting his chin in his hands. He watched her for a moment, then sighed with happiness. "If I was back at the castle, I'd have to be studying right now. The history of the House of Maalfes...ugh! Or worse yet, having to read the Treaty of Queltdennon or some such 'important' historical document. This is much better." Shannon leaned back, angling her head around so that one eye could see him, while the other was hidden behind a raven wing of hair. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Even though I was being held hostage, they still expected me to do schoolwork. In the summer, even!" She shook her head at the impossibility of adults, then frowned. "But we're still not out of the woods, here, Andy." Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wriggled around fully to face him. "We went through over half our money today. The rest won't last that long. Unless you've got more stuff like those bracelets, we're going to be in trouble." Andalor shook his head. "Except for the crystals, I don't have anything else we could trade. Gordon took the metal I was hoping to use." He didn't mention the rings that were still tucked away safely on the chain around his neck because they were specifically for Mulder and Scully, and carried enchantments keyed to their intended owners. He looked at her for a moment, then asked the question he had been wondering about all day. "Don't you have any family? Was it that they couldn't afford the ransom for you, or..." "No, I don't have any family!" she shouted. Subsiding, she felt his eyes fixated on her face. "Well, I have a mother. But she doesn't really care. Oh she 'says' she's only working with THEM because they threatened me, but I know she really wants to do it anyway. She has always been more interested in her work than me. I'm just an encumbrance she puts up with because she has to." Once the flood of angry words was over, Shannon clamped up tight again, her jaw jutting forward as though she expected him to argue with her. But when Andalor spoke, it was with soft, sincere sympathy. "I'm sorry." She shrugged, her hair rippling over her shoulders with the motion. Andalor waited until she met his eyes again, then he spoke again. "My parents were murdered. I saw it happen. I was only a kid, but I've got a perfect memory." He closed his eyes, his face tightening with the recalled anguish. "I couldn't do anything except cry. Just stand there and scream for them..." Reaching out to him, she closed her hand over his forearm. "I'm sorry, Andy. That really sucks!" "It was a long time ago," he responded, with a ghost of a smile. "I'll never forget, but at least the ones responsible were well-punished. And I was taken care of. My regent, Reinald, was always good to me, even when he bored me to tears. And I had Dorbo and Lita and Jourdain... and Mulder and Scully for a while." his eyes glazed over, his mind far away, remembering. "Mulder was the best. He understood me the way no one else did. He has a memory like mine, and he always seemed to find time for me, no matter what was happening. I hated it when he had to go away. That's why I had to try to find him now. I'm sick of all the training." His voice changed timber as he quoted, "Andalor, you're going to be King someday. You have much to learn. You must act like a Prince. You must study more. You must do this. You cannot do that..." Swinging his feet around, he sat up abruptly. "I had to get away, to see this world. And I want to talk to Mulder again. He'll know the right things to do. He always does." "Well, then we will find him," Shannon replied. "It can't be that difficult. He's a federal agent, so I suppose we could always contact the FBI. Though it would help if we knew what city he lived in." "Washington DC," Andalor said with a grin. She spun to look at him. "The Professor told me, " he explained. "I remember it clearly. He said Mulder lived in a giant village called Washington DC." "Well, why didn't you say so before!?" Shannon chided, getting to her feet and reaching for the phone. "Now as long as he doesn't have an unlisted phone number, we're all set." - - - - - "This is Fox Mulder. I'm not home. Leave a message." Shannon frowned, listening to the answering machine as it clicked and beeped, then fell silent. "Uhnnn. My name is Shannon Vedner, I'm with a friend of yours. Andy...Andalor. Look, we're in a bit of trouble and Andy says you might be able to help. You can reach us at the Bayside Motel in Boston. 617- mmmm 617-555-2736. We're in room 27. Please call us as soon as possible. Thanks." She hung up the phone. Andalor was staring at her, his eyes brimming with questions, to which she simply gave a shrug. "He's not home, but I left a message on his machine. Guess all we can do now is wait for him to call us back." - - - - - Mulder's building was quiet in the autumn sun. The street outside was empty except for a small, gray van, with the words, "Washington Light and Power" stenciled on the sides in broad blue and green strokes. Unseen by passersby, the inside of the van was filled with complicated electronics, monitored by two men in dark suits. One sat sprawled in a small chair, headphones over his ears, tapping a pencil against a small countertop. The other sat upright in front of a computer monitor, typing vigorously. Suddenly the man in the headphones jolted to an upright position. Leaning forward, he adjusted the controls in front of him, then yelled at his companion. "We've got 'em!" One more flicked switch and a young girl's musical voice filled the small space. "You can reach us at the Bayside Motel in Boston..." The men exchanged shark-like grins, then the computer operator reached for the telephone. Moments later he was speaking urgently into the receiver, "Sir, we've located the missing kids. They left a message on Mulder's answering machine..." - - - - - Gordon hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, a rare smile crossing his hard features. Nothing like a little forethought. Taking the time and expense to bug Mulder's phone had just paid off in spades. For once, he had the lead. He'd get to those kids long before the agent even had a chance. And this time he would see to it personally. As he got to his feet and fastened his gun into the heavy leather shoulder-holster, his smile turned grim. He would not allow any further mistakes. - - - - - Mulder drove the car slowly down the street, his eyes darting from the familiar figures of Aldara and Jourdain to the faces of the strangers who passed on either side of the narrow road. He pulled ahead, and recircled the block, hoping against hope that he might catch a glimpse of the missing boy, or his unknown companion. It was a relief that Andalor had found a guide to help him cope with this foreign world, though he knew all too well how much trouble could befall a pair of teenagers, lost and alone in a city this size. He edged the car slowly back around to the final corner, then braked to a full stop and sat waiting for his friends to catch up. A few more circuits and they would have to give up this almost hopeless way of searching and rejoin Scully. Certainly it had been a waste of time so far. The thought of being with Scully quickened his pulse. Just barely, he could sense her presence across the city, though that could perhaps just be his desire to feel her near. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he reached for his cellular phone. He fingered through the code for his own apartment, the idea of checking his answering machine an almost unformed decision on the edge of his preoccupied consciousness. Eyes still searching, moving, jumping from shadow to shadow through the dirt-spotted glass of the car windows, he registered the sound of his own voice speaking flatly, remotely, into his ear. Stabbing at the "five" button, he held it until the phone clicked, then released the button and settled back into the uncomfortable driver's seat of the small compact car. As the machine rewound, the stray thought that he wished they would start making cars for people of 'normal' size again ran across his mind, and then was lost in the sudden richness of the voice that rang in his ears. "Unnnh. My name is Shannon..." - - - - - Jourdain twisted to the side to make room for the two young women who walked past him, their slender bodies encased in skin-tight pants and brightly-colored shirts that left little to the imagination. Their hair was bound up off their faces, only to cascade over the shoulders in a riot of color, one glowing faintly pink, the other tinged with streaks of black. Both had faces the color of death, with garishly red mouths and black-lined eyes. He shivered slightly, his eyes automatically seeking the short, muscled, but full-bodied form of his wife. To his eyes she was a model of grace and beauty, and even at a distance, he admired the confidence of her walk, the way Scully's borrowed clothes enhanced without being overly revealing, the shining glory of her naturally ebony hair - and above all, the clarity of her unpainted skin. He hoped she never tried to act like those women, whose child-like giggles floated back to him on the breeze. Seeing Mulder bring the small magic wagon up to the nearby road-edge, he hurried his pace slightly, feeling a raw sense of frustration coil within his guts. The sun was already beginning to start its downward descent towards nightfall, and they seemed no closer to finding the missing Prince. Jourdain hated the thought of the boy being lost in this strange place for yet another night. Despite his brave words to his wife, only two days previously, about understanding Andalor's need to explore, Jourdain was well aware of the difference between his own boyhood adventures and those of the young Prince. For one, Andalor was much more sheltered than he had ever been, and at least Jourdain had been in a familiar world in which the dangers were known ones. Here the threats were unknown, and all the more terrifying for that reason alone. Still searching each dark corner with his penetrating blue gaze, Jourdain prayed desperately that they would find the missing boy - and the girl who seemed to have become his companion - soon. "Jourdain!!" The big soldier responded instantly to the cry of his name, racing across the street to confront Mulder's excited face. Aldara came running up behind the tall agent, skidding to a halt beside them. "What is it?" Jourdain asked, fear warring with hope. Mulder broke into a grin. "I think we found them! A girl who called herself 'Shannon' left a message on my answering machine - " at his friend's frowns, he waved his hands as though to signal that he'd try to explain later, as the words continued to flood out of him " - she said she was with Andalor, that they needed our help, and that they were at the Bayside Motel here in Boston." "Thank the gods!" Aldara explained. "Where is that place?" Jourdain asked almost simultaneously. Mulder shrugged. "Don't know." He flashed white teeth in a sudden grin. "But we're going to find out. Come on!" Seconds later, they were all in the car, Jourdain almost too excited to feel his customary unease at getting into the much-disliked magic wagon, and were speeding down the street. Mulder took them around a corner far too fast, and Jourdain felt his stomach lurch. Well, maybe not quite that excited. ---------------------- End chpt11 Part A ---------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter 11 Part B Andalor wriggled into the new pants, the ones Shannon called jeans, then pulled up the strange metal fastener, amazed again at the intricacy of the workmanship. He pulled the loose metal tab down, then up again, then left it, closing the button as well. Sitting down on the edge of the bed he swung his legs out in front of him. A faint smile softened his features as he decided he liked these new clothes very much. Then he was distract ed by the sound of the bathroom door opening. His amethyst eyes widened as he saw Shannon standing in the doorway, dressed in a light blue dress, v-neck in the front and tied at the waist with a brightly patterned scarf, then falling in soft folds to mid-calf. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, strands floating around her. His jaw dropped. For the first time, he saw her as more than simply a companion in adventure, but also as a very beautiful young woman. "Shannon..." he whispered, but was not allowed time to finish the thought. The door suddenly burst inward, coming up against the wall with a loud crack. Bright sunlight spilled into the room, temporarily covering the entrance of the three big men. Shannon saw them first, and recognized Gordon immediately. "No!" her shout came involuntarily, then she darted back into the bathroom slamming the door behind her. Andalor was on his feet almost in the same instant, his only thought to protect her. "Get out of here!" he yelled, lunging at the nearest intruder. His head slammed into the man's belly, knocking him backwards, but one of the others was ready for him, and grabbed him by the arm. Andalor stumbled down onto the floor, but came up kicking. He got one man in the shins, and managed to slam a fist into another's groin before two of them took a firm hold of each of his arms and lifted the slender youth up off the floor. His feet kicking at air, he yelled furiously, his words slipping into New Realm. Gordon left his two men to drag the struggling boy out of the room, while he headed for the bathroom door. He knew there was no way out for the troublesome girl, since the only window was barred shut, and he had two men out there as back-up. Drawing out his gun, he pulled on the doorknob, but it held. "Don't be foolish, Shannon," he said reasonably. "There's no other way out, and besides, your mother is worried sick about you. Come quietly, so that no one has to get hurt." "Go to hell!" she screamed back through the door. Backing up against the side wall, she searched the room for something she could use as a weapon, but found nothing. Her eyes alighted on the towel rack, and she lunged for it, just as Gordon's knocks on the door turned more violent. "Shannon, there's no way out. We've got your friend. Just open the door and come out. I promise neither of you will be hurt if you simply do as I request. Shannon!!!" Gordon kicked at the door, even as the trapped girl managed to break the thin metal towel bar free from the wall. Squeezing herself back against the wall beside the door, she held it up high in her hand, ready and waiting. She didn't have to wait long. An instant later, the door came crashing open, and Gordon burst into the tiny room, his gun hand stretched out in front of him - an easy target for her. With all of her strength behind it, she slammed the bar down on his wrist, eliciting a welcoming as it hit. Gordon yelped, then swore, the gun clattering to the floor. Shannon dropped the bar and dove for it, but he was too quick. Despite the pain in his hand, he seized her from behind and pulled her back, her outstretched fingers just a few frustrating inches from the barrel of the gun. "Let me GOOOO!" she screeched, kicking, struggling, trying to get to his arms and hands with her teeth. Throwing her viciously against the sink, he then backhanded her across the face as she turned. She cried out, then spat viciously at him, snarling like a cat. He grabbed her by the arm with one hand, and took a handful of her hair with another. She yelled and cursed again, as he forced her out of the bathroom. She managed to catch her feet on the doorway, but another violent yank on her hair wrenched her free, eliciting a shriek of pain. With total disregard, he literally dragged her across the carpet and out of the motel room. - - - - - Andalor fought hard against his two captors, scoring some well-directed kicks against their legs. Then as they paused to turn towards the waiting van, he twisted in their grasp and aimed a knee at the genitals of the man on the right. He slammed that kneecap home, and was answered with a cry of utter agony. Finding one arm abruptly free, Andalor threw a fist into the other man's kidneys. Breaking away from them, both doubled over in pain on the walkway, he turned towards the street then hesitated as a loud shrill shriek split the air. "Shannon!" he shouted, finding himself torn between the need to run to freedom and the desire to help his new-found friend. His feelings for her won easily, and he darted back towards the hotel room. Just as he reached the doorway, the boy came face to face with a scowling Gordon, Shannon kicking and yelling as he pulled her outside. "Let her go!" Andalor yelled, his hands balling up into fists. Gordon paused for just a second, but before either could move, Shannon turned her head and screamed, "ANDY! WATCH OUT!" something hard struck him over the top of his head, and he crumpled to the ground. Hanging half-suspended from Gordon's grip, Shannon looked up defiantly at the hulking goon who stood above Andalor's unconscious body, his hand closed tight around the barrel of a big pistol, the butt of which showed the unmistakable gleam of blood mixed with a couple strands of fair, yellow hair. Gordon wasn't about to waste time. Shouting "bring him" at his subordinate, he pulled Shannon past her friend's body and out into the parking lot. Her attempts to break free of his grip were ignored the way someone would ignore the buzzing of an annoying insect. He smacked her once again, then dragged her forward again. Inch-by-inch he got her closer to the waiting van, while his man followed closely behind, Andalor's body slung over his massive shoulder. - - - - - It took one phone book, and two attempts at asking for directions for Mulder to get a good sense of where the Bayside motel was. Pushing the car as fast as he dared in the busy city streets, he cursed as he realized he had already swung past it twice, merely a single block over on either side. As he maneuvered through the maze of one-way streets, trying to find the best path on which to circle back, he punched furiously at his cellular phone. Finally, Scully's welcome voice echoed in his ears. "Scully." "It's me," he said. "I think I found them..." "What? Where?" Scully interrupted, her excitement bringing a wry smile to her partner's lips. "They left a message on my answering machine at home, saying that they were at the Bayside Motel here in Boston, and needed our help. We're on the way there as we speak, E.T.A. about ten minutes. Can you get over here?" "Thank goodness," Scully breathed, then looked out her car window at the suburban area she was driving through. "We're almost back at the Professor's house. We'll pick up Tarnor, then meet you at the motel. What's the address?" Seconds later, Mulder had passed on the directions, though Scully promised herself to recheck them before they left. Directions were not Mulder's strong point, and she refused to get lost at such an important time. "OK, we'll be there as soon as we can," she assured him, then followed with a heartfelt word of caution. "Be careful!" Mulder smiled wryly at the phone as he hung up, whispering, "You too." - - - - - Scully parked the car on the edge of the street in front of the house, getting out swiftly, followed by the happily chattering Mage and scientist. Both were delighted that they had finally found a lead to the missing boy, so they didn't notice initially when Scully froze in her tracks, staring at the wide-open front door. "Scully!" Reinald started to say, his voice trailing off as he caught the intense set of her face, then followed her fixed gaze to the door that swung half-off its hinges in response to the wind. The Professor stopped short also, his breath catching in his lungs. "What?" he began, but Scully shushed him with a swift gesture. Then drawing her gun, she motioned for them to stay put, and eased her way up onto the front porch. Turning to the side, she came against the doorjamb, then angled her head to peek into the front hallway of the house. Immediately noting the signs of disturbance - rugs askew, vase of flowers spilled over onto the floor, furniture tilted at odd angles - she paused for a moment, listening and watching. When she was met with a dead silence, she took a deep breath and moved into the hallway, her head turning from side-to-side, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, her footsteps quiet and carefully measured. At each doorway, she stopped to peer inside, weapon always at the ready - but was met with nothing. Until, finally she turned to look into the library, and was greeted with the murmuring of voices. Stepping firmly into the doorway, she lifted her gun and pointed it at the source of the sounds. "Federal agent, don't move!" They moved, of course, both jumping up out of their chairs in alarm. Scully's fingers tightened convulsively on the trigger, then relaxed with an audible sigh of relief as she recognized the two individuals facing her. "Please, Agent Scully, don't shoot!" Karen Mather said anxiously. Tarnor merely stared at the red-haired woman holding her foreign weapon at him, his uncertainty evident only in the jerking of his broad ears. Scully lowered her gun, and returned it to her hip-holster, then stepped forward. Taking in Karen's rumpled and dirty appearance, as well as the slightly ashen color of the gargoyle's skin, she asked calmly, but authoritatively, "What happened?" - - - - - Karen hugged the old Professor, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're okay. I was so worried...but I did as you had instructed. I shut everything down, and made sure your house was taken care of." "You did well, Karen, my dear," Professor Neumann said, releasing her, then guiding her over to the couch. She sat down, wringing her hands, then looked up at the four faces watching her expectantly. "Things were okay for a couple of months, then out of the blue, this man, Gordon, turned up." The corners of her mouth tightened in anger as she mouthed his name, her voice dripping with hostility. "First he simply asked a lot of questions about you and the work we had done. I tried to give him as little as possible, but he didn't give up. Then he let slip that he was trying to repeat the experiments and I told him that he had to stop. He just laughed at me. "Then he told me that I had to come work for him. Well, of course, I told him to get lost. I know men like him. They cover their evil with smooth smiles and a greasy manner. But when you defy them, they turn ugly." She shivered. "After I turned him down twice, he started to threaten me, but I didn't take him too seriously. I didn't think..." She broke into a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. "What did he do?" Scully asked gently. "He kidnapped my daughter!" Karen exclaimed. "Straight out of school, he just went there and took her out of her class. Then he told me that I had to help him or he'd hurt her." "The girl that Mulder said was with Andalor, that's your daughter?" Reinald asked urgently. Karen nodded. "I was supposed to 'examine' the boy, but he just...disappeared. One minute he was there, the next he was gone. All hell broke loose, and then the next thing I heard was that the two had somehow escaped together. I didn't know what to think, whether to be worried about her all on her own out there, or to be glad she had escaped from that horrible place. They kept her locked up in a cell!" Her voice rose in outrage, weeks of buried rage finally surfacing. "I could kill that bastard." Reinald and the professor both looked horrified, while Tarnor's head bobbed in sympathy. Scully's only response was a tightening of her full mouth and the flash of determination in her bright blue eyes. All were thinking that Gordon had some reckoning coming to him. But Scully had several other concerns. "Exactly what were Gordon and his people doing?" Karen brushed the tears off her cheeks and responded eagerly. "They were trying to use the vortex as a way to transfer people and things between locations. I think they want to use it to get soldiers behind enemy lines or to send in sneak attacks, assassins and spies. To steal information." "Typical!" Scully shook her head, thinking furiously. "What worries me the most," she added, "is the effect this might have on other worlds. The Professor's original research opened the gates to the Dark Place. I can't even begin to imagine what might happen if those particular pathways were re-opened." That brought looks of utter dismay from both Tarnor and Reinald, and a look of pained sorrow from the Professor. Sitting down beside Karen, he sighed dramatically. "This is all my fault. If only I had known what might happen..." "There's no way you could have known, Professor," Scully reassured him kindly. "You stopped as soon as you saw the dangers. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll be able to say the same about this Gordon." Karen nodded agreement. Reinald rubbed at his chin thoughtfully, then spoke with measured words. "Using the vortex to travel, if you use it carefully and with full understanding of the forces you are dealing with, I do not see as a problem. But I do agree that we cannot allow evil and unscrupulous men to be playing with powers they do not understand." He drew himself up proudly, and continued in a voice of ringing authority. "These men must be stopped!" The others all agreed, Karen included, though her heart was elsewhere. "First, we have to find my daughter!" she insisted. - - - - - Jourdain's head hit the ceiling as Mulder bounced the car into the motel parking lot without so much as a tap on the brake. Growling, the big man rubbed at his head, but before he could voice the complaint, his eyes focused on the scene outside the car window. "Mulder, Look!" Aldara yelled, pointing out the windshield at the man hauling a struggling young woman across the pavement. Mulder slammed hard on the brakes, twisting at the wheel, so that the car spun partially into a parking spot, the rubber tires squealing in protest. Without bothering to turn off the car, the agile agent was out of the car and racing across the lot, Jourdain only moments behind. Aldara circled around in the opposite direction, her eyes focused on the man as he backhanded the girl across the face, then dragged her almost by her hair alone towards a larger gray wagon. Jourdain's attention, however, was fixed solely on the golden head of the body slumped over the shoulder of a man who almost rivaled the big soldier in size. Reaching automatically for his sword, Jourdain felt an abrupt pang of loss as he realized he no longer had the comfortable weapon. Unhappily settling for his knife, he drew the blade, his feet pounding on the hard pavement as he closed the distance between him and his quarry. Mulder was much fleeter of foot, and as he neared the kidnappers, he was already holding his gun at the ready. "Federal Agent. Hold it right there!" Shots rang out from the direction of the van, forcing Mulder to leap to the side, dropping to the pavement and rolling to avoid the sudden barrage of bullets. "Watch out!!" he screamed at Jourdain, terrified that his friend from the Realm would not recognize the danger from the unfamiliar weapons. But Jourdain was battle-trained enough to recognize danger when he saw it, even if he did not understand it. Weaving around a pair of parked cars, he managed to get beside Mulder. The agent knelt behind a car aiming his gun over the front hood. Careful not to hit either the girl or Andalor, he fired back grimly towards the van. Squinting his eyes, he could just barely make out the shape of the man huddled behind the corner of the van, and the shadow of the one using the van's back door as cover. Gordon had to crouch down as he shoved Shannon towards the van, trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Dammit! he thought, hadn't someone had the sense enough to erase that tape on Mulder's machine? Did he have to spell out every detail to these idiots? Furious, he wrenched Shannon's arm around, then tripped her over onto the ground. "Get up and move!" he hissed at her, shoving her forward. Her amber eyes spitting fire, she spat at him through clenched teeth, then bit at his arm. In response, he slapped her hard, and this time she collapsed, a small trickle of blood dripping out of the corner of her mouth. He grabbed her arms and hefted her body up, yelling at one of his men to come help him get her into the van. Mulder and Gordon's men kept up a running gunfight, Jourdain's frustration reaching a fever pitch as he crouched behind the tall agent, unable to do anything to help save his Prince. All he could do was wait, and hope that Mulder's strange weapon would be enough. It was enough to knock one of the MIB shooters down flat, eliciting a throaty cry of triumph from Mulder as he saw his target fall. Seconds later, another man went down, toppling head first onto the sidewalk, causing Mulder to frown in confusion. Until he caught sight of a flash of color, sunlight glinting off silver, the hilt of a knife embedded in the man's back. "Aldara!" he yelled involuntarily, eyes darting past the van to try to find her, but she had already moved on. One of the other men turned around, and shot back behind him, causing both Mulder and Jourdain's hearts to skip a beat. Another shot, then another, and then the man swiveled. Too far away to see if the expression was one of success or failure, Mulder took the chance to strike, sending his last pair of bullets whizzing at the dark-suited goon. One bullet hit, one missed, the man stumbled down, grasping at his shoulder. Mulder drew a rasping breath, then pulled back behind the shelter of the car. He automatically checked the cartridge, knowing even before he did so, that he was out of bullets. Jourdain caught the look on his friend's face, and felt his stomach sink. "Is it broken?" "Out of bullets." Mulder answered, wishing fervently that he'd had sense enough to bring extra ammunition. He just hadn't expected to end up in a shoot-out with some obviously trained, obviously government, flunkies. Then he grimaced at Jourdain and tried to explain. "These weapons shoot out little lead pellets called bullets. Without more bullets, it's useless." Jourdain shook his head. For all of its ability to kill at a distance, it seemed a pretty useless weapon if you had to keep feeding it. Give him a good sharp-edged sword any day, he thought wistfully, the image of his own prized blade hanging in its scabbard above the door of his home flashing before his eyes. What he wouldn't give to have it in his hands. But thinking about what couldn't be was a waste of time. Getting up from his crouch, he peered over Mulder and the car to watch the men dump both Andalor and the girl into the back of the gray van, then slam the door shut. Some of the men got inside it from the side, others got into another smaller car. As the engines roared, Jourdain and Mulder both stood up, then had to duck again when a volley of shots came from one of the car windows. They appeared to be trapped. - - - - - Aldara grinned as she took down one of the enemy, watching him fall with a look of pure satisfaction. But as she was reaching for a second knife, another of the men turned and aimed his strange weapon at her. Instinctively, she darted to the side, then rolled across the ground. Something pinged on the hard ground beside her, and she was back on her feet and running in less time than it took her to draw air into her lungs. Leaping upwards, she dove over the front end of a car, tucking her head into her arms, so that her shoulders took the jarring impact with the ground. Momentum carried her through a full somersault, and by the time she had righted herself, it was obvious that something else had claimed the shooter's attention. Aldara saw him stumble, blood gushing out of his shoulder, and smiled grimly, silently thanking Mulder for his timing. Circling back around, she kept low to the ground, her small size assisting in keeping her out of sight. She watched, rage growing, as the men loaded Andalor and the girl into the van. Her eyes narrowed, moving past Mulder and her husband, who were trapped behind another car, and on to Mulder's still-running vehicle. Heading cautiously in that direction, she had to stifle a scream when Mulder and Jourdain stood up, only to fall to the ground underneath another round of loud bangs. Gathering all of her considerable courage and determination, she took off towards the car, her long curly hair waving out behind her. At last, she came up to the side of the car, and with barely a second of hesitation, she got into the still-open driver's side door. Slamming the door shut behind her, she fastened the seat belt, only to find herself unable to reach the pedals on the floor. She wriggled as far forward as she could, cursing the length of Mulder's legs inventively. But it was no use, she couldn't reach. Then a sudden memory of watching Mulder adjust the seat to give himself more leg room earlier that day struck her. Obviously, if he could make the seat go back, she ought to be able to make it go forward. He had pushed at something below the seat, so she leaned over, and was gratified to find a small black lever. It took a couple tries, her tense anxious fingers struggling as she tried to hold the lever down and scrunch the seat forward at once. But finally, it released with a loud click, and the seat shot forward, then clicked into place. Now she was almost too far forward, her chest up tight against the steering wheel, but her feet could easily reach the pedals. A look of accomplishment lightened the grimness of her elven-cast features, as she turned her attention back to the disaster unfolding around her. Next, she ran back over all of her memories of watching Mulder and Scully operate one of these vehicles. She had paid close attention, and remembered vividly that the small hand lever to her right had to be on "D" to go forward, or on "R" to go back. It took a couple hard shoves to get it right, but she finally forced it into "R." Then there were the pedals to consider. She knew one meant go and the other meant stop, but which ones? She hadn't been able to spend too much time staring down between either of her friend's legs, curious as she had been, it wouldn't have been appropriate behavior. Now wishing she had been a little less concerned with protocol, she finally decided to try the one on the left first. Nothing happened. All right, that meant that the left was probably the stop. Sending up a short prayer to whatever gods ruled this strange world, she lifted her foot, then brought it down sharply on the right pedal. "OOOOOHHEEEEEE!!!" she squealed as the car jerked backwards, then slid to the right. It moved so FAST!!! Slamming on the other pedal, she was greatly relieved when the car jerked to a stop. Taking a look at her position, she was delighted to see that she had pulled into a more open spot without, quite, hitting anything. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the lever into "D" and this time, VERY slowly, pressed down on the right pedal. The car bolted forward, and she clung to the wheel with white-knuckled fingers as she tried to aim for Mulder and Jourdain. -------------------------- End chpt11 Part B -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter 11 Part C Tires squealed on cement, horns blared, the crunch of metal on metal filled the air. Aldara held onto the wheel for dear life as her foot slammed down on the stop pedal. The car skidded to the side, and she felt the jolt of the collision with the larger van reverberate through every bone in her body. Her car came to a full stop, its nose merely inches from the back bumper of the car sheltering Jourdain and Mulder. Behind her, the gray van backed away with a tearing metal wrench, then roared, as it angled wide, racing past into the freedom of the street, followed closely behind by another small car. Unwilling to waste time figuring out how to open the window, Aldara simply waved at the two men staring at her with dilated eyes and gaping jaws. "Hurry!!!" she yelled, not sure if they could really hear her, but hoping they would figure it out quickly. Mulder was the first to move, his fears for the kidnapped children pumping adrenaline through his veins. Holstering his empty weapon, he grabbed at Jourdain's arm. "Let's go!" Jourdain took the hint and ran for the car. For once, he got the car door open on his own, and hardly stumbled on getting inside. Mulder went for the driver's door, intending to replace Aldara there, but before he could get it open one final round of shots came in his direction from the second car as it weaved past them. One hand instinctively thrown up to protect his head, Mulder ducked down, then threw himself in the back seat after Jourdain. No sooner were they both inside, than Aldara started the car sliding backwards. Not expecting the sudden motion, both men were tossed around in the back seat, Mulder landing hard against the solid bulk of Jourdain's shoulders. Aldara swung the wheel violently, grinding her teeth, as she forced the overly-responsive car to go in the right direction. Zigzagging with each attempt at correcting direction, she managed to even it out as she brought them out of the parking lot and into the street. This posed an increasing amount of trouble, as she now had to contend with other cars, some moving in the same direction and some racing straight at her. She knew she was supposed to stay on the right side of the painted yellow line, but found it harder to do so as the speed increased. But the van carrying the wounded Prince was accelerating smoothly, and Aldara refused to lose it from view. When it took a sharp left turn, she hit the go pedal hard, yanking on the wheel. The car spun wildly, almost slipping from her control. "OOOOOOO!" she yelped again, as she fought for control, her voice rising in a sharp crescendo as it tilted over almost onto its side, then fell back down onto all four wheels with a sickening lurch. But somehow, they came up going full speed in the right direction, and she let out a cry of triumph. Barely a block ahead, she could see her quarry, and she jammed the pedal to the floor, her face resolved into a grimace of utter determination. - - - - - "We *have* found them!" Scully suddenly interjected, her eyes widening as she realized she had almost forgotten Mulder's communication in the excitement of finding Karen at the Professor's house. "What?! Where?!" Karen cried, jumping to her feet. "Take it easy," Scully admonished her, tucking loose copper strands of hair back behind her ears. "Mulder got a message on his answering machine in Washington, saying that the two kids were at a motel in Boston called the Bayside. We came back to get Tarnor and to check directions, then we're supposed to go meet Mulder there." "Wait!" Reinald said, even as Karen rushed to the door. "We still need to know where this Inn is." The Professor grabbed the telephone book and lifted it up. "We've got the address and phone number, Scully has her mobile phone, we're all set." "So what are we waiting for?" Scully answered with a gentle grin. Getting to her feet, the petite red-head led the way down the hall. Just as they were about to leave the house, Tarnor suddenly paused, baring his gruesome smile. "Wait, what about the man we captured?" Scully, Reinald, and the Professor spun as one. "What man?" they demanded in unison. "A man Gordon sent to guard me," Karen explained anxiously, her eyes darting to the open front door and the waiting car. "Tarnor did something to him, then we locked him in the cellar." Tarnor grinned broadly, his jagged teeth glinting in the soft light. "I used a freeze spell on him, so he ought to be under its influence for hours, but I do not know how well the spell will hold in this world." Reinald frowned, not knowing the answer to that question himself. Then another thought occurred, his concern for his long-time friend and associate coming to the fore. "Are you all right, dear fellow? Do you need one of Corvay's medications?" He eyed the gargoyle anxiously. Tarnor shook his head. "No, I'm fine. I will admit the magic was very sluggish, but the use of it does not seem to have caused too many ill-effects. I do not even feel tired." "But that doesn't make any sense," Scully broke in. "Whenever Mulder tried to use it here, it would knock him out. Sometimes even to the point of unconsciousness." Reinald nodded his agreement, he'd felt the same thing. But then Tarnor was a gargoyle magician... "Maybe because he is not a natural life form in this world, its laws affect him differently," the tall, white-haired Mage spoke thoughtfully, biting at his lower lip in concentration. "It may be that Tarnor can use magic more effectively..." "That's great, I'm sure," Karen interrupted, "but right now our first concern has to be my daughter and the boy. We've got to get to them before Gordon does!" "She's right," Scully agreed. "Might as well leave the man where he is. Did you did lock the cellar?" Tarnor bobbed his head in the affirmative. "I barred the door with a heavy piece of furniture. He should not be able to regain his freedom." "Good," Scully replied tersely. "Let's go." Minutes later, they were all bundled into the car, Tarnor squeezed in-between Karen and Reinald, while the Professor took the front seat, already searching the bulky phone book for their destination. - - - - - Holding on for dear life, Jourdain finally gave up on watching the blur of the outside world spin past. His stomach lurched as they took yet another corner far too fast, drawing a strangled cry from the big man's clamped lips. Closing his eyes, he sent out another round of prayers, promising himself that he would never, ever allow his wife behind the wheel of one of these monstrosities again. Mulder was less willing to shut out the situation. Leaning into the space between the two front seats, he screamed instructions at Aldara, who only sometimes seemed to listen. "Watch out! To the left - THE LEFT!!!!!" Mulder braced himself as the car swerved again, swiping against an on-coming car, but still missing the parked one to the right. Releasing the breath he was holding in his aching lungs, Mulder barely had time to refill them before he was yelling again. "LOOK OUT!!!!" The car bounced, jolted to the side, then straightened out, Aldara's foot never letting up the pressure on the go pedal. Mulder swore as his head hit the ceiling, his hands never releasing their death grip on the headrests of the front seats. Aldara herself was riding on a wave of exhilaration. This was great! She loved every minute of it\., Well, maybe not the moment she almost hit the woman and her little girl. But she had missed them, she thought proudly, even if she had had to hit that other wagon in the process. Still, this 'car' was proving to be quite tough. Fine workmanship, indeed, she decided, her emerald eyes gleaming with pleasure as she fiercely pursued the elusive gray van. Behind her, Mulder finally eased himself back into the seat and reached for his cellular phone. Bracing himself with one hand, he punched at the buttons awkwardly with the other. Placing it by his ear, he exchanged a grimace with Jourdain. If there had been any time to stop and exchange places with Aldara he'd have done it in a minute. But there was no way they could afford to lose track of the gray van, and Mulder had to admit that for someone who had never driven before, Aldara wasn't doing too badly. At least not if you didn't mind leaving a trail of near-disaster in your wake. Cringing at the thought of how much all this damage might end up costing him, Mulder was incredibly relieved to hear Scully answer her phone. "Scully...thank God!" he said urgently. "Mulder! What's happened? Are you all right?" Even at such a distance, she could sense that something was wrong. Her stomach was knotting in tension, and she could almost feel his panic leeching through the life-bond. "We got there a little too late, Scully. Some men had already grabbed Andalor and the girl by the time we got there." "Shannon," Scully corrected, causing Karen to jerk her head forward in response. Mulder silently, but immediately filed away the name in his capacious memory. "When Jourdain and I tried to stop them," he continued, "they opened fire on us. I think they were government or military types, Scully. They had the suits and haircuts." "Yes, that makes sense," Scully replied. "We found Karen. It turns out some black ops group kidnapped her daughter to force her to replicate the Professor's work. She's the girl with Andalor." Mulder frowned into the phone. "Damn! If only we'd been a bit sooner." "Where are you now?" Scully asked. "Chasing the bad guys," Mulder told her, then his hazel eyes danced as he passed on one last piece of information. "Aldara is driving." "Aldara is WHAT!???" Scully exclaimed. "Driving....sort of... Eeeoooowww" he yelled, glancing up to see a big semi bearing down on them. Aldara wrenched at the wheel, and they spun sideways, narrowly missing a collision. Righting the car, Aldara pressed down again on the pedal, and the car lurched forward. "Mulder!!!" Scully yelled anxiously into the phone. When he answered, his voice was taught with stress. "I...we're okay. I *think.* But when this is over, we have got to get Aldara some driving lessons!" "NO!!!" came a deep yell from Jourdain, loud enough for Scully to hear over the phone. It was too much, and she couldn't help starting to laugh. Her amusement was contagious, and Mulder managed a weak smile. "Anyway, I'm not sure exactly where we are, but we still have them in sight. It's a gray Ford minivan with Massachusetts plates JKU897. Right now, we're heading down..." Mulder stared out the window hoping for a readable street sign. "I think we're on Lincoln Ave. Heading away from downtown - I think..." "OK, Mulder, hang on..." Scully put down the phone for a moment to fill the others in on the situation. Karen managed to hold herself to a single sob, while the others exclaimed their concern. "Mulder, Jourdain and Aldara are in pursuit, on Lincoln Ave, he believes. It would be good if we could head them off." "I know where they are going!" Karen leaned forward in her seat. "He'll take them back to the complex." "Can you direct us there?" Scully demanded. "YES!" Karen replied. "Good." She put the phone back to her ear. "Mulder?" "Yeah." "Karen says she knows where they are going. We'll try to get there first." Mulder sighed in relied. "Good. We'll stay on their tail as best we can. Be careful!" "You too!" Scully put the phone away, then glanced back at Karen. "Which way?" "Better go back the way we came, then turn..." Scully wrenched at the wheel, and executing a totally illegal U-turn, sent them racing back down the road. - - - - - Gordon kept staring into the rear-view mirror, his fury increasing as the small blue car never failed to stay close behind. Damn Mulder, he thought furiously, leaning back as he fought for control. They were almost to the complex. Once they were inside, he reassured himself, there would be nothing that interfering man could do. It wouldn't take too long to load things up and move to a new site, and they could do it by helicopter from the roof. Mulder would never be able to follow them. And if Mulder tried anything in the meantime, well, so be it. Gordon had never understood why that Morley bastard had always insisted on keeping this particular thorn alive. If the man was a threat to national security, simply eliminate him. You didn't play stupid head games with troublemakers, you killed them cleanly and efficiently. This was Gordon's territory here, and if Mulder continued to stick his nose in, the man might soon find it shot off. Glancing out the window, Gordon almost smiled. - - - - - Scully hit the car horn hard, even though she knew it was a waste of time. Hitting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand, she groaned with frustration. It was getting close to rush hour, and the streets were simply clogged with cars. Angling the small car at every tiny opening she saw, she tried to find a way through the mess, though she could feel each second clicking away, eating away at their chance to intercept the kidnappers. - - - - - Gordon nearly crowed with triumph as he saw the tower of the heavily guarded complex loom up ahead. At first glance, it appeared no different from the other buildings in the heavily developed business district, however it was actually crawling with high security, from cameras to infrared sensors to armed guards. The entrance to the underground garage was electronic, and it only took a second to activate the doors. The driver aimed the van at the opening, and gunned the engine, taking them inside in a sudden burst of speed. Behind them, Aldara raced to keep up, but even before she could get close, the door began to slide shut. She was perfectly willing to try to race it, but there simply wasn't time. Instead of gaining entrance, the front end of the car slammed into the solid thick steel of the door at full speed, then bounced backwards, the hood crumpling with the impact. Mulder and Jourdain were thrown forward, then backwards, while Aldara was tossed upwards, then downwards, her head cracking against the wheel. "Aldara!" Jourdain screamed, trying to get to her, as the car continued to bounce against the unyielding door. Mulder restrained him, forcing him to pay attention. "Not this way. Come on, we have to get her out from the side!" Both men tumbled out of the side door, every part of their body sending protesting sparks of pain along jangling nerve endings. Mulder was relieved to find that he didn't seem to have broken anything, at least at first glance, and Jourdain seemed to be bruised but all right. The main concern was Aldara, who was still slumped over the wheel unconscious. "Easy, easy," Mulder warned Jourdain. Then, wishing fervently that Scully was here, he struggled to open the crunched driver's door. Panicked, Jourdain reached around Mulder and with one valiant effort, literally took the door off of its hinges. As the big man tossed the crumpled piece of metal aside, Mulder leaned in to check Aldara. At the touch of his hand on her neck, she moaned and shifted in position. He breathed again, then tentatively settled her back away from the wheel. She groaned again, and shifted, though her eyes remained closed. Feeling Jourdain's anxiety beating at his back, Mulder managed to release the seat belt holding her in place. Tenderly putting one hand under her knees and the other behind her neck, he tried to ease her out. She turned in response to his touch, and reached out to grasp his arms. "Don't move," he told her, trying to lift her up out of the car seat. Jourdain came in to help, and none too soon, they had her out of the wreck of the car and out onto the pavement. Mulder released her into her husband's protective arms, and turned to look around. Finally, to his great relief, he saw Scully's car careening down the street. Mulder stepped forward to meet up with Scully as she ran towards them, while Jourdain remained crouched on the sidewalk, holding his wife's bruised body with gentle hands. Aldara moaned, then huddled into his embrace. "Jourdain..." she muttered, her eyes fluttering open to rest on his worried face, then closing shut in happy recognition. It might not have been much, but that soft whisper of his name was the sweetest sound he could ever have heard. End Chapter Eleven =========================================================================== Chapter Twelve Part A "I'm fine," Aldara insisted defiantly. "Sit still," Scully ordered bluntly, glancing over at Jourdain, who instantly tightened his hold on his tiny wife. Aldara turned her head to frown at him, but a sudden bolt of pain from her injured skull silenced her complaint. Grimacing, she let herself relax - ever so slightly - into his strong, comforting arms. Scully pushed the heavy mass of ebony curls aside, then probed gently at the wound. Aldara's face screwed tight, but she gave not so much as a single whimper. Emerald eyes gleamed as Scully finished her exam, then rocked back onto her heels. "Well, you've probably got a slight concussion, and I wouldn't mind taking some x-rays of your shoulder, but I think you'll live." Scully was deliberately blase in her assessment, feeling everyone's eyes focused on her, the mixture of fear and worry almost visible in the air itself. "I could have told you that," Aldara said with exasperation, eliciting a rueful grin from her husband. Scully met Jourdain's eyes with a glint of humor, sharing their mutual concern and relief in an instant of understanding. The others all breathed in sighs of relief, except for Mulder, who was staring up at the complex towering over them, the sunlight reflecting streaks of yellow off the dim white concrete. One hand shading his eyes, his teeth bared in a grimace as he spoke, "Let's get out of here." "What?" Karen was at his side in an instant, knocking Reinald aside in her burst of motion. "They've got my daughter in there..." "And we'll get her out," Mulder's voice was deadly soft, even-toned, only Scully knew the emotions that seethed beneath the stone of his expression. Her hand instinctively stretched out into the space between them, even as her mind flew to touch his. //Mulder.\\ Her thoughts, emotions, rushed up against the shield around his mind, then seeped through the cracks. His acknowledgment was sparse, but the barrier slipped the mental equivalent of an inch. Giving her a glimpse, faint and fleeting, of the turmoil within, his mind flared with focused intensity. Taking Karen's arm, he pulled her away from the building, ignoring her protests. To Reinald, he stated tersely, "Not here." Scully and the Professor were faster in accepting his decision, and they shepherded the rest of their group towards the one functioning car. There was no way that everyone was going to fit in the small vehicle, so Mulder pushed Karen, the raincoat-draped Tarnor, Aldara and Jourdain at the car. Ordering the Professor to drive them home, he pulled out his cellular phone and briskly ordered a cab. Scully and Reinald drew in close to him, their eyes questioning, as he pocketed the phone, then drew both hands through his short-cropped dark hair, causing strands to shoot out in all directions. Then he turned his brilliant hazel eyes onto their faces, letting his breath release in an audible sigh. "Mulder," Reinald said with some hesitation. He had rarely seen his friend angry, but knew the signs well enough, even without the Mage storm that would have raged in the Realm. "I can understand the need for a strategic withdrawal, but I cannot help but be concerned for the Prince. With no knowledge of what they are intending to do with him, I fear..." "I know." Mulder glanced warily up at the bleached cinder block of a building behind them, feeling the brooding presence of the building boring into the space between his shoulderblades like the eyes of a predator. "But I don't think their intent is to kill Andalor. They went to a great deal of trouble to kidnap him and the girl...Shannon..." He paused, the wheels turning behind his eyes. "No, they want the kids alive, and that is the one thing working in our favor." His lopsided grin was a mocking reminder that it was a faint hope at best. - - - - - By the time everyone was gathered safely into the Professor's living room, tempers were running short. Unable to sit sill, Karen paced back and forth while Tarnor's ears twitched in a frantic compliment to her movements. The Professor wrung his hands, his thin shoulders shaking. Reinald sat with regal calm, though his eyes were deep sunken pools in a face that seemed to have aged years beneath the mane of silver hair. Mulder moved with the tense litheness of a caged panther as he entered the room, handing Aldara a glass of water, then moving to stand behind Scully, his hand falling to rest lightly against her shoulder. She leaned back against him, reaching out for his mind with a wave of love and comfort. Gratefully though silently acknowledging her support, Mulder cleared his throat, only to elicit another tirade from Karen. "Why are you all just sitting there? We've got to do something! They've got Shannon, and you are doing nothing to help. Why aren't you doing anything? I can't stay here, I have to get her out of there..." Her voice rose, then shattered into an incoherent sob. "My dear," The Professor got up to go to her, but Mulder was faster. Taking a firm hold of her shoulders, he restrained her until she focused tear-filled eyes up onto his face. Enunciating each word carefully, he repeated his earlier promise. "We will get them out of there. But you have to hold it together. We have to plan this carefully." He turned slightly to take in the rest of the room. "We will only get one chance at this, so we can't afford any mistakes." Jourdain nodded his agreement. "I think we have three choices. First, we can try to contact them and attempt to negotiate. Second, we can try a sneak attack. Third, we can attempt an all-out assault. I would suggest trying one of the first two, as the third is quite likely to put the hostages' lives in unnecessary danger. The enemy may decide it is easier to kill them." "You can't 'negotiate' with that bastard!" Karen cried, grabbing at Mulder's arm. "He doesn't care about anything except power. He'll kill Shannon without so much as a second thought!" "But he must have taken her for a reason," Aldara interjected, throwing Jourdain a warning look when he moved to restrain her from sitting up. "From what the Professor has told me, this evil man only took her to get you to do what he wants. So he doesn't have what he wants right now, only a tool to get it." "Right," Jourdain picked up the direction of his wife's thoughts easily, a small part of his mind admiring her strength even in the midst of the crisis. "He has what we want, we have what he wants. So we offer him a trade, you for your daughter and Andalor." "No!" This came from the Professor. "We offer him me, not Karen." He stepped up to his colleague, gently reaching out to take her hands. "I'm the one who ran off and left you to deal with these people alone. I should have found a way to protect you better before I left." He gazed sadly from one face to another. "This is my responsibility, and I think this man - Gordon - will be happy with me." "We're not giving anyone over to these people, Professor," Mulder replied. "IF - and that is a big IF - we decide to pretend to a trade, I want to be absolutely certain we can get everyone back out of it safely." "Exactly," Jourdain agreed. "We'd have to draw them out into a trap. Bait it with the Professor or Karen, then when we have them in it..." His massive, callused hand slashed violently through the air. "It's risky," Scully said doubtfully. "Gordon will know that we are likely to make a rescue attempt, so he'll be prepared for it. Hostages tend to get hurt in situations like that." She exchanged a quick glance with Mulder, knowing that the same terrible images were flashing through his mind as through hers - a shot fired in the darkness, sending a killer and his hostage tumbling into icy waters, leading to the terrifyingly strange death of the woman who *might* have been Samantha. "Anything we do is going to be risky," Reinald broke in sadly, unknowingly interrupting the silent, emotive communion between the partners. "It's just a matter of what is most likely to succeed. I know magic is hard to use here, but we do have three quite powerful Mages. Perhaps we could devise a spell which would help to rescue the Prince and the young lady." Mulder frowned, shutting down the painful memories with the abruptness of long practice. "I know it is a tempting thought, Reinald, but I've felt the aftermath of spell casting in this world. We would be useless afterwards..." "Maybe not!" Tarnor spoke up brightly, his skin tone brightening. "Whatever drain you feel on magic use in this Realm does not seem to affect me as strongly. I was able to bespell the man who was holding Karen without any exhaustion." "What man?!" Mulder asked sharply. There were gasps, then a flood of explanations as the two groups finally caught each other up on their separate adventures. This was followed by a long moment of silence. "OK," Mulder spoke first, his long legs eating up the room as he paced back and forth, in a pattern perpendicular to the one Karen had taken earlier. "Gordon has got to know that we are going to come for the kids..." He paused, his eyes glittered like diamonds as his mind made a decisive leap. "The question is... does he know that Karen is with us?" "He must have seen..." Scully paused, considering. "Depends on whether they have the outside of the building under surveillance, and whether anyone recognized her." "And even if he does know that she is with us," Jourdain picked up. "He would also have to realize that she knows he has her daughter. And he has already accepted that she's only been cooperating with him because he has the girl." He stared over at the thin, middle-aged woman. "I think he would expect you to return now that he has her again." "No." The Professor was still hesitant to let Karen take the risk. "It's too dangerous. Who knows what those men might do to her." "But if she can get inside, then she may be able to find a way to let us inside as well." Mulder was determined, and Karen's expression was just as grim. "All she has to do is leave a door open, or distract security. You know the general plan of the building?" Karen nodded. "Good," Mulder stopped short in the middle of the room. "I think we send in three people at most. Everyone else can provide a distraction to keep them occupied while Karen leads the rescue team to Andalor and Shannon. We get in and get out...quick!" Jourdain and Aldara nodded instant agreement, recognizing the sense of the plan. Scully and Reinald looked thoughtful, the Professor looked doubtful. But Karen was fiercely resolute. "I'll do it." - - - - - Earl sat on the floor of the basement, knees drawn up against his chest, relieved to be finally free of the confining blue light. Shuddering, he couldn't decide which he was more afraid of, his boss or that strange ugly creature with the TEETH. Still seeing sparks of blue against the backs of his squinched eyelids, he decided that he was more scared of the thing, albeit not by much. Sighing, Earl tried to marshal all of his limited intelligence in an attempt to construct an explanation that Gordon might possibly believe. The door resisted, then swung open, the rusty hinges groaning in protest. Earl stumbled to his feet, throwing up a thick arm to shield his eyes from the new source of light. Squinting, he backed away slowly as his eyes fastened on the squat, gray figure that approached him, dwarfed by a tall, lanky man. "Ggggget away from mmmeeee," Earl yelled, moaning as his feet stumbled over something unseen in the gloom, and he fell to his knees. But the two approaching figures did not stop until they were standing less than a foot away. Close up, Earl got a full view of those jagged, glittering teeth as the monster began to chant in a soft, shockingly musical voice. Not recognizing the words, Earl threw a despairing, pleading glance at the stern face of the other man, but was met with an unforgiving glare from those deep, dark eyes. Earl scrambled up to a crouch, one foot underneath him, but before he could move any further, there was a sudden blaze of blue light from the creature. His hands waving in mid-air, weaving amid strands of blue light, Tarnor concentrated hard on focusing the wayward spell. While he did not feel the weakness that both Mulder and Reinald had reported, he did feel a distinct recalcitrance in the magical energy. It was sluggish, dribbling like pure honey poured from a jar, rather than the quick rush that he was accustomed to within the Realm. But he was able to use it, and so he did... The sapphire glow grew, spinning outward in streams, until it surrounded the cowering thug. His eyes closed, his body rose up within the cage of blue light, then drifted downwards to settle on the basement floor. Mulder could feel the power focusing and releasing, and he ached to reach out to it and twine his fingers into the brilliant glow, to feel it course within his veins. His fingers tightened into fists as he restrained himself, knowing full well the consequences of such an act. His friends needed him now, awake and in control, so he forced himself to wait and watch. Finally, the power dissipated, a few last azure sparks flickering along the floor, until they too were swallowed by the darkness. Tarnor turned to Mulder and nodded. The tall man flashed a grin, then leaned down to grab the unconscious goon by the arm. Earl shifted weakly in response, then meekly came to his feet. Guided by Mulder, he sleep-walked his way up out of the basement and into the car. Slamming the car door behind the unfocused Earl, Mulder went around to the driver's side. Karen looked up at him through the open window. "Will you be okay?" he asked. She nodded. "I'll be fine. Will he...?" Mulder smiled ironically. "He'll be a bit confused, but he will back up your story. Keep it as simple as possible. I don't think he was too bright to start with, but after Tarnor's treatment, he's going to be even more dim." Karen snorted. "If that's possible." Mulder chuckled, then turned serious. "Be careful Karen." Not bothering to answer, she started the car. There was no turning back now. - - - - - Aldara had not been happy about being consigned to providing a distraction while Mulder, Scully, and Jourdain made the rescue attempt. Jourdain and Mulder had been adamant, however, and she had to admit that she was not at her best. Still, it rankled to be left behind while her husband and best friends went into battle. Well, not exactly left behind, perhaps, for she did have an important role to play. Someone did have to keep the guards occupied, and that job belonged to her and Reinald and Tarnor. Aldara stifled a giggle, imagining the reaction to Tarnor of people who had never seen a gargoyle before. Even she, who was completely accustomed to the gargoyles, could be startled by their appearance, especially when they smiled. Those teeth... It almost made being relegated to distraction duty worthwhile. Besides, she thought happily, squaring her shoulders and ignoring the shot of agony that spread down her arm from the bruised joint, there might yet be action enough awaiting them. - - - - - Mulder, Jourdain, and Scully crept up silently to the basement windows. Karen had warned them that Gordon had ordered the openings sealed, but a quick recon had confirmed that those instructions had not yet been met. Finally, a stroke of luck, one that they were fully grateful for. Mulder poked at the window that was most accessible to the alley, peering down cautiously into the gloom. Jourdain knelt by his side, his hand never far from his belt-knife. Scully stood with her back to them, her alert eyes scanning the evening shadows. Easing the sword into a more comfortable, albeit less 'regulation' position on his back, Mulder made certain his re-loaded gun was fastened tight to his belt, then turned his head and banged his elbow hard into the remaining splinters of glass in the window frame. Twisting his arm, his breath catching in his throat as the fragments shattered and clinked down into the dusty recesses of the basement, he cleared a wider opening. Then pulling back, he glanced doubtfully at Jourdain, seeing his friend's bulk as a problem for the first time. "I'll get through," Jourdain assured him, "though it might help to remove the frame as well." Mulder nodded, and leaned over to examine the wooden frame, delighted to find it was already rotting with age and weather. He shoved at it with both hands, bracing his feet against the concrete wall. It shifted, but did not come loose. Sighing, he hefted the sword out of its scabbard, frowning at the idea of using the expertly crafted weapon for such a job. But necessity ruled. The blade was hard and strong, the point sharp, and it accomplished what was needed. The frame broke loose with a screech and tumbled down, causing a series of loud crashes below. Mulder and Jourdain both winced, waiting, listening, for any sound that might indicate they had been discovered. But there was nothing. "OK," Mulder checked his watch, then met Jourdain's clear blue gaze. "I'll go first." Jourdain wanted to protest, but knew that Mulder was far more agile than he. The big captain had always relied on strength over speed, assuming the physical force of his muscle would win through. And under most circumstances it was successful, but this was not a normal situation. So he swallowed and nodded his acceptance. Mulder replaced the sword in its scabbard, then swung around to slip his legs into the opening. Jourdain took hold of his arms, and Mulder allowed the other man to lower him slowly into the basement. Once he was through to his shoulders, he bent his arms to take hold of the window sill, easing himself further downwards. His feet struck something solid, and he paused, then felt for it again. There! Just to his right was some kind of solid support. Cautiously, he lowered more weight onto it, freezing when he felt the surface wobble beneath his feet. Slowly, he let himself down again, until he was hanging from his finger tips, aided by Jourdain's iron grip on his wrists. He peered downwards wishing for more light, when suddenly a beam from a flashlight shone down from above his head. //Ask and ye shall receive...\\ whispered Scully's mindvoice. //Thanks.\\ he returned wryly, staring down at the unsteady pile of boxes and furniture beside his feet. "Looks like there is a pile of junk we can use to get down," he told them. Then propping his feet onto the most steady part of it he could find, he took a deep breath and let go. Jourdain let Mulder slide out of his hands, watching anxiously as the agent half-clambered, half-slid to the distant floor. Mulder landed in a crouch, his knees jerking with the shock of the landing. Staring up into the light streaming from above, he used the mindlink to his partner. //I'm ok. Send Jourdain down next. He may need some help.\\ Scully's amusement echoed in his mind, even as she gestured at the big soldier, signaling him to begin levering himself into the narrow window. It took some shoving from above, and a good tug from below, but they finally got Jourdain through the window and down onto the cluttered dirty basement floor. It was now Scully's turn, but for the petite woman, the slide into her partner's waiting arms was nearly a pleasure. //...mmmm...\\ A purr of satisfaction echoed from her mind to his, as she stole a precious moment in his arms. He took a deep swallow of her fragrance, then reluctantly set her on her feet beside Jourdain. Now all they could do was wait. ---------------------------------- End Chapter Twelve Part A ---------------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Twlve Part B Karen glanced furtively behind her, then crept closer to the stairway door. To this point, all had gone according to plan, though she was nearly soaked in her own sweat, her heart and lungs pounding as though she had just run the Boston Marathon. But at least Gordon had been pleased enough with his success in recovering the two runaways to accept her explanations without extensive questioning, and Earl had corroborated her story as planned. She didn't know what Mulder had done to the man, but he had dimly echoed each of her statements, almost as though he was speaking through a thick fog. She shrugged mentally, all that mattered was that it had worked. Gordon had interrogated her enough to make her guts cramp as she waited for the knife to drop, but not enough to break her resolve. And finally, he had simply stopped, dismissing them both with a casual wave of his hand. It had been the scene with her daughter that had nearly broken her. Shannon had faced her with utter contempt. Karen had desperately wanted to reach out, to tell Shannon the truth, assure her that help was coming. But under the watchful eyes of two more of Gordon's thugs, all Karen could do was accept her daughter's bitter sarcasm, grateful at least that she was alive and well enough to be angry. The boy, Andalor, had gazed at Karen with pale determination, a look of wary pride evident in the striking violet eyes. He refused her attentions stoically, yet with a flash of spirit that lit up his well-carved features. The last image of the two teens, sitting together on the bed, the girl poised and tense, the boy wary, yet somehow regal in his bearing, still haunted her. And gave her the courage to continue. At last, her fingers closed around the door knob, and with one quick, furtive glance into the empty hallway, she slipped into the dimly lit stairwell. Working quickly, but silently, she placed a strip of duct tape over the door jamb, then eased the heavy door back into place. Another instant of time lost to check that it would indeed re-open, then she was off down the stairs, every echo of her footsteps sounding loudly in her sensitive ears. Down, down, down, she ran, sometimes taking two steps at a time, occasionally slowing to listen to every noise and creak, waiting, even expecting to be caught at any moment. Yet, somehow, she managed to make it to the bottom without apparent discovery. A sharp lance of triumph sent a jolt through her veins, as her fingers tightened around the handle to the basement door. She pushed hard, but it didn't open. A whispered, "nooo," escaped her lips, as she shoved hard with all of her strength. It held, held...then finally gave way, sending her tumbling down to her knees, her white-knuckled hands still clasped on the door handle as it swung out and away. Breathing a silent prayer of thanksgiving, she pulled herself to her feet, and cautiously stepped out into the darkness. Her eyes blinking hard in an attempt to adjust to the sudden lack of light, she didn't notice the figure standing behind the door until a pair of hands seized her, one clamping around her waist, the other closing over her mouth. "Unnngggg," she struggled violently, until a deep male voice whispered into her ear. "Karen, it is us. You must be quiet." Not recognizing the voice, she continued to fight until a small figure stepped out of the gloom into the thin triangle of light that trickled through the open door. The yellow light glinted off bright copper hair, causing Karen to slump in relief against the man holding her. Feeling her relax in his grip, Jourdain released her, and she pivoted, only then recognizing him. "Where..." "I'm here," Mulder said, moving like a shadow up from behind Scully. "Have you found the kids?" "Yes," she nodded. "I saw them briefly. They're all right. The boy is hurt, but conscious." "You can lead us to them?" "Yes, though we will have to go out on another floor and work our way down. I was only able to get away from the guards on the lab floor. Shannon and Andalor are being held two floors down from there. I taped the door to the stairwell on the lab floor, it's our only way out of the stairwell. All of the doors lock from the hallways." Mulder grimaced, though he hadn't expected anything else. He received confirmation of their readiness from both Jourdain and Scully, their eyes steady, but alert. "All right. Karen, you go first. Jourdain, you go last." There was no argument, and together, in cautious single-file, they began the slow climb upwards. - - - - - Gordon rested the remote control against his knee, his eyes darting from screen to screen. Smiling his vulture's grin, he watched as Karen furtively disappeared into the stairwell. He had been fully aware of her intent to betray him, and had been more than willing to give her the rope to hang herself. Even though that dimwit Earl had verified Karen's tale, there were parts that just didn't ring true. Gordon wasn't sure how Karen had managed to manipulate the thug, but Gordon had little respect for the man's intelligence. In fact, Earl had seemed even more stupid than usual. Not that it mattered since building surveillance cameras had clearly indicated that Professor Neumann had returned. His presence made his research assistant useful only as bait. Gordon frowned, wondering yet again what Mulder and his rag-tag group of oddities were up to. But it didn't matter, for building security was on full alert, and plans were already underway to move all necessary personnel and equipment to a new site. He decided abruptly that he would take both of the teenagers. The boy, of course, for further study, and the girl because she would make a useful tool. They had yet to send a living human through the experimental vortex, but that could be done soon enough. Pointing the remote, he scanned back through all the cameras, noting the men in position, waiting for any sign of trouble. Everything was ready, even the self-destruct was primed. He poised a finger over the relevant button on the remote - just one stab and it would be set. The building would go, and this time Mulder would go with it. - - - - - The Professor parked the car barely inches from where Scully had parked it that afternoon. Now it was well after dusk, a full moon visible on the horizon. Even with the faint disguise of industrial smog and natural fog, the stars twinkled in a clear navy sky. Leaving the engine engaged, he turned to the woman sitting beside him. "I think I ought to go with you," he insisted. Aldara shook her head, the cascade of dark curls waving down her back with the gentle motion. "I'm sorry Professor, but it is important that someone remains here in the car to ensure our escape from the tower. Mulder will be quite angry if we do not follow his instructions." The Professor frowned, reluctantly accepting her decision, even though sitting in the car waiting the outcome of this night's rescue attempt was going to be the hardest thing he had ever done. "Be strong!" Aldara told him with a smile of understanding, then her face turned grim. "And be ready." Inclining her head at Reinald and Tarnor, she swiftly exited the car. The two Mages followed her lead, each moving to stand by the petite warrior's side. Framed by the small, draped figure of the gargoyle and the tall, slender frame of the white-haired magician, she strode with determination towards the front door of the complex. - - - - - The guard looked up as he was approached by a small woman wearing a bright blue dress. A long mane of black curls covered her shoulders and cascaded down her back, framing a thin oval face with a pointed chin and the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. A smile broke over his face as he preened, slicking back strands of his thinning hair over the bald spot on the crown of his head. "Sir..." She spoke in a tentative voice, her huge eyes seeming to dilate even further as she stared up at him. "What can I do for you, Ma'am?" he replied, his eyes traveling up and down the length of her well-curved body. Aldara felt dirtied by the way he was gawking at her, causing her hand to creep ever nearer to the knife sheathed below her belt. "My grandfather and I are lost." She turned to smile tentatively up at Reinald who stepped closer. The guard tensed at the man's approach, but relaxed instantly as he took in the slender frame and the silver hair. On alert or not, these two were hardly a threat to anyone. Semi-consciously flexing the muscles in his arms, the guard smiled indulgently, quite willing to draw out his time with the tiny beauty. What he didn't see was the figure of the gargoyle Mage, hidden in the shadows. "I was wondering if you could tell us..." Aldara began, her voice soft as a whisper, while at the same time easing the knife out of its sheath. The guard leaned forward to hear her, and she attacked with merciless ferocity. One instant he was leering down into her face, the next he was staggering backwards, hands reaching for the hilt of the knife buried with perfect accuracy into the center of his chest. "Aaaaggghhhuuunnnhh," he groaned toppling backwards. Aldara leaped onto him, wrenching the knife out of his chest. Then pressing the tip of her toe into his abdomen, she held the knife ready to strike again. But with blood bubbling out of his mouth, the surprised guard slid slowly out of consciousness and into death. Satisfied he was going to be no further threat or hindrance, Aldara nodded to her companions. They moved forward instantly, Reinald letting Tarnor take the lead. Grateful to be finally free of the encumbrance of the heavy coats, the gargoyle reached intently for the door. Closing his eyes, his head bobbed as he concentrated on the opening spell. - - - - - "Damn," Gordon muttered. His attention focused solely on Karen as she made her way down to the basement, he had missed the action stirring in the front lobby. Now, suddenly, he had a major situation on his hands, and though he was sure it was a deliberate distraction, it still required an outlay of time and men. Focusing the security cameras on the first floor hallway, he watched in sudden shock as a small woman took down one of his best men with casual ease. Beside her, a tall, old man, with a shock of silver hair held a long knife at the throat of another man. "What the Hell!" Gordon swore again...knives?? Why on earth weren't his men simply shooting these intruders? A woman that could hardly weigh more than one hundred pounds and an old man - they ought to be easy pickings. So what... A sudden burst of blue light burst out of the screen, and Gordon leaned forward even as he instinctively shielded his eyes. Lowering the arm slowly, he peered closely at the nearest monitor, frowning as he tried to make out the shape in the midst of the blue cloud. Cold eyes narrowed to pinpoints as he managed to discern the shape. He blinked and looked again. He rubbed his eyes and stared. Could it be? The creature that had first appeared in the lab before Mulder and Scully did their all-too-short disappearing act several months ago? If it was, then it was an incredible find!!! Snatching at his phone, he dialed down to security and issued a flood of orders. Karen, her daughter, even the strange youth were forgotten in a rush of greed. Nothing was going to stop him from capturing that creature! - - - - - Aldara laughed with exhilaration as she swung her knife at the man facing her, his hand held exposed in mid-air as though still holding his weapon. His widened brown eyes swung from the glowing blue form of the weapon, floating just above his feet, to her focused face, then to the glint of the knife. Jumping backwards, he only barely escaped the sharp edge of her blade as it sliced through the space where his nose had been a mere breath before. The sound of the knife-edge whistling through the air only stirred the half-elf's battle fury. She leaped forward, an incongruous figure, ebony curls waving down her shapely back, emerald eyes dominating a delicate oval face, as she yielded the dagger with perfect ease. His shock-dilated eyes never leaving the weaving silver blade, the black and gray suited guard drew himself up, his male ego assuring him that he could handle this tiny woman. Aldara grinned as she caught the glow of confidence in his eyes, immediately leaping in for the kill. He dodged her blade, but not before she drew blood, slicing a long gash along his forearm. Swearing, he swung a fist at her, only to find himself striking at thin air. Before he could recover his balance, a swift foot caught him in the rear, and he tumbled forward onto the tiled floor. His opponent was on him in an instant, her knife blade pricking into the sensitive skin of his throat. "Ddddon't," he found himself pleading, staring mesmerized up into blazing emerald eyes. Aldara held the knife point against the skin above the pulsing jugular vein for a moment, then frowned with distaste. This was far too easy. Sighing, she moved faster than he could breath, lifting her arm, she slammed down the rounded bottom of the dagger's hilt against his temple. He groaned aloud, convulsing once, then lay still. Leaping to her feet, the warrior quickly assessed the situation, taking in the blue-shadowed form of the gargoyle mage and the poised, gritted face of the man to her right. Reinald looked distinctly unhappy to be reduced to fighting with a knife, but he was doing his part without complaint. Nodding to him, Aldara stepped gracefully over the two bodies on the floor and moved further down the hall. Only to come face-to-face with half-a-dozen more of the black and gray suited guards. - - - - - Mulder led the way down the pale, light-flooded hallway. Right hand clasped around the grip of his gun, his left strayed to the strap holding the sword over his shoulder. He wasn't sure why he had bothered to bring the antique weapon, since it would be less than useful against a modern handgun, yet somehow the long silver blade was a comfort, perhaps a reminder of better times or a final security against attack. All of his senses alert, his vision was doubled by that of his partner. Scully paced the white-tiled floor like a lioness on the prowl. Head lifted high, clear blue eyes scanning each inch of the long path ahead, she moved with a preternatural grace that was utterly feminine and wholly her. One hand held her gun with casual confidence, the other was poised, floating in mid-air, ready to seize the hilt of the sword that hung neatly over her shoulders. Feeling, more than sensing, his gaze upon her, Scully responded to his mind, not needing to look up into his face to see him. For every expression of that mobile, handsome face was engraved deep within her heart, and all that was necessary now was the slightest brush of her thoughts against his, a whisper of contact between their souls. Neither of their companions ever noticed the silent communication between the two agents, and neither needed to know. Karen was intent on one thing only, her daughter, and Jourdain was focused solely on the action of the moment. Footsteps echoing in the stillness of the apparently empty hall, the four moved slowly, steadily onward, closer and closer to their goal. - - - - - Gordon watched the battle on the monitors, absently noting the ferocity with which the small woman fought. "Too bad my men don't have half her guts," he muttered to himself, the remainder of his attention focused obsessively on the blue-shrouded creature that floated three feet off the floor behind her. Streaks of blue light shot out of its thick, stubby hands, twining around the metal shapes of his men's guns and forcing the glowing weapons out of their hands to clatter to the floor. Then the battle was down to hand-to-hand combat, the little warrior giving far better than she received. The tall man beside her suffered more, and Gordon gave a grunt of satisfaction as the silver-haired figure was sent flying to land in an unmoving huddle on the floor. But that instant of triumph gave way all too quickly, as the creature gestured angrily, creating a wall of blue flame that surrounded and shielded his companion, blazing up in fiery intensity at the slightest touch of one of the guards. "Damn!" Gordon swore again, shaking his head in disgust as he watched a small, barely five-foot woman systematically eliminate four of his best-trained officers. So intent was he on the disaster in the making, that he almost missed the blinking light on the console. The tiny, red LED blinked in and out on the edge of his consciousness for long minutes, before it finally registered in his preoccupied mind. Brushing at his eyes, as though trying to ward of an annoying insect, Gordon abruptly focused on the tiny red light, and then upon the screen above it. Pointing the remote, he focused on that one screen, an unconscious growl rumbling from his throat. How the hell had they gotten there so fast? Reaching for his own weapon, he tucked the self-destruct remote control into a pocket, then slipped out of his office and down the hall. - - - - - Mulder and Jourdain exchanged uneasy glances as they waited for the elevator door to open. Scully was as cool as ever, her presence as solid as a rock on the edges of Mulder's mind. Karen was pale and trembling, her eyes darting from one to another, from floor to ceiling to walls, her hands clasping and unclasping convulsively. "Take it easy," Scully whispered to her, readying herself at the sound of the bell that signaled the slow opening of the doors. Breath caught tight in four pairs of lungs, then released in a sigh, as they faced another long, empty hall. Suddenly feeling the closeness of her goal, Karen darted out before Mulder could restrain her. "They're just down this hall!" she cried, racing on ahead. "Karen - WAIT!" Mulder hissed, his long legs covering the space with economy, though he was still too far behind to stop her before she ran right into a pair of guards exiting one of the rooms. Karen stumbled into one of the men, his hands closing harshly on her arms as he dragged her to her feet. "No!" she yelled, kicking out at him, struggling violently in his grasp. "Hold still, bitch!" he told her angrily, throwing her up against the wall, even as his companion reacted to the sight of Mulder running towards him, gun outstretched, sword loose and bouncing on his lean shoulders. Reaching for his gun, he was an instant too late, as Mulder's bullets ripped into his shoulder and side, knocking him backwards. Blood welled and flowed from the wounds, while the gun slipped from pain-wracked fingers. At the sound of the shots, the guard holding Karen let go of her, spinning as he drew his own weapon. Mulder and Scully both aimed, but Karen interfered before another shot could be fired. With a screech, she jumped onto the guard, grabbing onto his gun hand with both of her hands and then her teeth. "AAAGGHHH!" he yelled, as she bit deeply into his exposed wrist. Twisting in an attempt to free himself, he slammed at her head with his other fist. Mulder and Scully both grit their teeth in frustration as they found themselves unable to gain a clear shot. Jourdain didn't bother waiting, bolting past the two agents, he tackled the guard with every ounce of his considerable weight. All three fell to the floor with a loud thud of soft flesh contacting solid, unyielding tile. Karen's teeth were dislodged from the guard's wrist, and she was thrown sideways, colliding with the wall, then curling over onto her side. Jourdain came down hard on top of his opponent, and he wasted no time in trapping the smaller man. One iron fist struck, then another and another, until the guard was laying like a rag doll on the floor, head hanging at an unnatural angle, arms and legs splayed outwards. Scully pushed past Mulder to pick Karen up off the floor, supporting the taller woman with uncomplaining strength, while Mulder stepped over to Jourdain. "You okay?" he asked tersely. Jourdain nodded, then looked over at Karen. "We'd better hurry. Where are the Prince and your daughter?" "There," Karen pointed at a door no more than three feet down the hall. A sense of sudden, yet knowingly presumptive, triumph streaked through the minds of the rescue team, as they went to confront the one last barrier between them and their goal. ----------------------------- Chapter Twelve Part B ------------------------------ =========================================================================== Chapter Twelve Part C Andalor rubbed at the sore spot on the back of his head, wincing as another jab of pain lanced through the space behind his eyes. "Hey, better stop messing with that," Shannon told him, her characteristic bluntnessameliorated by the look of concern in her honey brown eyes. "Yeah," he replied, leaning back against the pillow with a sigh, his eyes turning with unconcealed frustration towards the door. "What do you think they're going to do with us?" Shannon shrugged, pulling up to a sitting position and eyeing their prison cell with distaste. "I don't know what they have planned for you, but for me it's just more boredom. Having me held captive here gives my Mom the excuse to work for them without damaging her 'social conscience', so they'll just keep me locked up in this damned room." She sighed, exaggeratedly, then frowned. "I wish I knew what they wanted with you." Andalor sat up, stifling a groan at the effect of the sudden change in motion on his aching head. "I think they want to use me to trap Mulder." Biting at his lower lip, he tried to shut down the more horrible possibilities. "Unless they are planning to..." "Planning to what?" Shannon asked, not in the least liking the expression on her companion's face. Andalor shrugged his shoulders in an imitation of her early motion, and tried to brighten his expression. "Nothing. I'm sure I'm only useful as..." The sound of the door lock being disengaged silenced any further conversation, and both got to their feet, turning as one to face the door as it slowly began to open. Stretching out a hand to Andalor, Shannon darted into the shadow of the inwardly moving door, preparing to strike out at the incoming enemy. Andalor recognized her intention and deliberately moved into the line of sight from the doorway, ready to distract the guards. But as the light from the hallway hit his dim-adjusted eyes, he blinked, then opened his violet eyes in surprise. Could it be... "Yaaahaaaa!" Shannon screamed as she jumped on top of the tall, unfamiliar man stepping through the doorway. At the same instant that she got her arms tight around his neck, her feet kicking viciously at his shins, Andalor yelled out..."Mulder!!!!" "Whhaatt...GET OFF ME!!!" Mulder demanded as he struggled under the unexpected assault. "OOUCH!!" he grabbed for the fingers tightening on his throat, the gun falling from his hand as he fought to regain his ability to breath. "Shannon STOP!" Two voices cried at once, Andalor's slightly cracked adolescent voice mixing with that of her mother. Mulder finally got hold of her wrists and yanked them away forcibly, pivoting, then pulling her up off the floor by her arms. Hanging from his grip, her feet still swinging at his calves, Shannon focused on the face that was boring down on hers, the hazel eyes wide and piercing below a shock of hair as dark as her own. Another pair of hands tugged on her from behind, and she turned to see Andy's anxious expression. "Stop it, Shannon - that's Mage Mulder. He's not the enemy!" "What?" She was suddenly aware not just of the man still pinioning her arms, but the three people standing behind him as well. Her mother, a big man who reminded her of an old oak tree, so surely were his feet planted on the floor, and a woman with hair that shone like flame in the yellow fluorescent light. Mulder set her down on the floor, then looked down at her with a wry grin. "If I let go of you, will you promise not to try to strangle me again?" Recovering her aplomb, Shannon responded easily, "Sure!" "OK," Mulder let go, and turned to Andalor as he rubbed at his throat. "Andalor, are you alright?" Andalor nodded. "Mage Mulder, I...I mean..." Suddenly faced with the living presence of the man he had come so far and risked so much to find, the young Prince abruptly found himself at a loss for words. But his idol had more important things on his mind. "Later," Mulder said tersely. "Let's get out of here." Karen and Scully stood back to allow the two teens to exit the room, while Jourdain stepped further down the hall, eyes narrowed and ready for trouble. The last to leave the room, Mulder was leaning down to scoop up his gun when chaos erupted in the hall. //Mulder!!!\\ Scully screamed for him mentally, saving her breath for the fight ahead. Facing the men that had seemingly come out of the walls in front of them, she drew the sword off her back, and hefted it in her left hand even as she raised and aimed her gun. "Nooo!" Karen shouted, turning to press Shannon behind her into the wall. Mulder swore as his fingers touched just the edge of his gun, causing it to shoot across the slick surface of the floor and under one of the beds. The urgency of Scully's cry, followed by the sound of shots from the hall, forced him to abandon the weapon. Drawing the sword with a grimace, he raced out through the doorway and into the battle. There was no cover available in the open hallway, which led quickly to an uneasy stand-off, Gordon's three men holding their weapon pointed at the four adults who stood shielding the two teens, Scully holding both her weapons proudly, Mulder balancing his sword in both hands, the edge tilted up into the air in front of him. Jourdain held one knife out in front, the other resting in seeming negligence by his side. Karen's hands were empty, but she held them both out in front of her, palms facing outward, as though she could deflect a bullet with bare skin. Gordon gave his predatory smile and stepped forward, directing himself to Mulder, who watched and listened with stony calm. "A sword, really, Agent Mulder. Do you think this is some kind of game?" Mulder remained silent, his eyes cold and watchful, his mind in perfect link with his partner. When he was ready, she would be too. At the lack of open response from his adversary, Gordon chuckled. "Well, game or not, its over, and I have won. Now, I'm willing to be magnanimous. For some reason, the powers-that-be have decreed that you are not to be killed. If it were up to me..." Gordon shook his head. "Well, you are their problem. All I really want is the boy and the odd creature of yours which is presently downstairs causing no end of trouble. Hand them over to me, oh - and I'd like the Professor as well. I'm sure he's around somewhere, and we'll let the rest of you go." Gordon spread his hands, attempting to appear reasonable, but Mulder's expression never wavered. "Forget it." Gordon shrugged. "Have it your way, but please remember that I offered you the opportunity." Stepping back, he issued a terse order. "I want the boy alive, kill the rest." Five guns lifted up and aimed... //NOW!!!\\ Mulder and Scully moved as one, in perfect synchronicity, Scully fired her gun, while Mulder leapt at the nearest man, sword slicing through the air. At the first shot, Jourdain grabbed Andalor and shoved him down onto the floor, covering the boy's slender frame with all of his bulk. Shannon screamed, grabbing at her mother's sleeve, while Karen charged forward, desperately throwing herself into the line of fire. Two of the men were thrown backward under a volley of bullets, their own weapons firing randomly at the walls and ceilings. Mulder felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his bloodstream as he brought the sharp edge of his silver blade down on the wrist of the man firing at him. "EEEOOOAAAAHHHGGGGG!" The man cried, as the sword sliced right through his wrist and severed the hand and gun in one swift moment. Mulder danced sideways in the same motion, feeling the heat of the bullets as they raced by the edge of his hips and thighs, one scraping through his clothing to sear his skin. Close, far too close. But not quite close enough. Gritting his teeth, Mulder swung the now-bloodied blade at the second man, who had stopped firing at the sight of the severed hand falling to the floor, blood spurting from the wounded arm in a rich gush of gore. "Nooo!" the second man screamed as he saw the red-tinged glitter of the sword coming straight for him. Lifting his gun, he fired blindly at Mulder, but was a single breath too late. His bullets went wild, one hitting another of the guards in the shoulder, another striking the underside of Scully's exposed right arm. She cried out, the gun falling from her hand, but the damage was only superficial. Caught in the heat of the battle, she forced herself to ignore it, closing both hands on the hilt of the sword, a wing of bright auburn hair swinging down to shadow her chin and mouth, framing the blazing azure of her eyes. The man facing her lifted his gun in triumph, only to find the point of the sword pressed into his throat. He took an involuntary step backwards, though he pressed his gun into the middle of her chest. But that only brought out a smile from her face and a spark of challenge from her eyes. "Go ahead, shoot me," she dared. "But don't think I won't rip your throat out before I die." His eyes widened, the only thought capable of forming in his mind the pure certainty that she had gone berserk. Seeing a pang of fear strike his face, Scully pressed her advantage, pricking the skin above his jugular vein with the point of the sword. "What's the matter?" she taunted. "For God's sake, shoot her!" Gordon yelled, turning his own gun from Mulder to Scully. Even as he moved, Karen finally broke free of Shannon, running straight over Mulder, who had dived to the floor to avoid another round of bullets fired in his direction. Gordon corrected his aim when he saw her coming, firing intently. Karen staggered as she was hit, once, twice, and again, blood welling out of her abdomen and shoulder, oozing out of her thigh. But she was too focused on her target to stop, even when Shannon fell to her knees screaming "MomMomMom!" Mulder pulled himself up to a crouch, the sword heavy in his hand, only to see Karen stumble straight into Gordon's gun. Gordon fired rapidly, striking the already wounded woman in her chest and stomach, forcing her down to her knees, a groan of agony escaping her lips, even as blood bubbled and frothed in the corner of her mouth. Yet, somehow, she found the strength to move one step closer, and then another. Seeing her continue to move towards him, when she should by any rights have fallen dead to the floor, his eyes widened in shock, and he moved to empty the rest of his cartridge into her body, but Mulder was there first. With a cry of pure rage erupting from the depths of his soul, Mulder scrambled to his feet and levered the big sword up over his head, hilt clamped in both hands, whirling it down as he leapt forward over Karen, who was now reduced to crawling forward on the floor, hands scratching at the smooth tiles. Gordon saw the blade slicing towards him far too late to raise his gun from the floor. Screaming, he saw his own mortality reflected in the shimmering blade as it sliced unerringly for his throat. Taking his one last, desperate bid for victory, he closed his fingers down on the remote control still concealed within his pocket. Merely a second too late, the hand-crafted wrought-silver sword sliced through Gordon's throat in one clean sweep, barely catching on the bones of the vertebrae, Mulder's arms and the force of gravity pushing it through with inevitable force, until it swung free towards the floor. Gordon's face took on a look of shock, his eyes still staring wide open, as his head wobbled on his shoulders, then tumbled sideways. Karen lifted her head long enough to see her enemies head roll off, smashing to the floor with a sickening thud, then she sighed and slid downwards to the floor, all of the remaining breath rasping out of her lungs as she collapsed and lay still. "MOMOMOM!!!" Shannon screamed, darting forward to pull her mother's bullet-wracked body into her arms, her voice wafting up into an unintelligible wail. The one remaining soldier, still standing with Scully's sword point in the hollow of his throat took one look at the detached head of his boss, dropped his gun onto the floor, and took off backwards down the hall as fast as his feet could carry him. Scully moved to follow, but Mulder reached out to restrain her, the blood-spattered sword suddenly an almost unbearable weight in his right hand. "Let him go!" As if to confirm Mulder's words, an ear-shattering alarm blared into life, followed by a strobe-like blinking of the fluorescent lights. The alarm whined and rose, then squeaked into silence, soon replaced by a blank human voice. "The self-destruct sequence has been activated. Please evacuate the building at once. Countdown sequence to begin...NOW. One-hundred...ninety-nine...ninety-eight..." "My God," Scully breathed in shock, her eyes meeting Mulder's in a millisecond of shared panic. Then they both bolted into motion. "Come on!" Mulder grabbed for Shannon, while Scully ran over to Jourdain who was already pulling himself up off of Andalor. The big soldier did not quite understand what was happening, but it did not take much to figure out that something was drastically wrong. Dragging Andalor to his feet, Jourdain began to follow Scully, never letting go of the Prince. Mulder struggled to pull the sobbing Shannon up from her mother's corpse, but with only one hand free, he was unable to succeed in gaining her attention. Seeing his friend's attempt to remove the girl failing, Jourdain didn't even bother with a single word. Releasing Andalor, he brushed Mulder aside, took hold of the girl, and lifted her right up into the air, the big muscles in his arms and back flexing as he threw her kicking, screaming body over his shoulder. Scully extended a hand to Mulder, who took hold of it, racing down the hall with her at his side. They ran for the stairway, shoving the door open with violent urgency, pounding their way downwards, every number of the countdown echoing loudly in their ears. "Seventy-five...seventy-four...seventy-three..." - - - - - - Reinald stumbled to his feet, grimacing ruefully as he gratefully took the hand Aldara held out to him. Once he was on his feet, he looked over in amazement at the bodies strewn out across the hallway. Shaking his head, he found himself incredibly grateful that this fierce warrior was on his side. Beside them, Tarnor slowly drifted down to rest on the floor, his skin taking on an ashy pallor as the blue glow faded away. "Are you all right?" Reinald asked his former pupil anxiously. "Just tired," Tarnor drew in a deep breath, then bared his pointed teeth in another startling grimace. Using magic here is much more difficult than at home. It flows so slowly... "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got to get moving," Aldara interrupted tersely, surprising herself by ordering around the two magicians without so much as a single jolt of worry. It wasn't so much their lessened ability in this strange world, as it was her concern over their situation. For the moment, there were no more black-suited men with the pellet weapons coming at them, but the loud blaring that seemed to emanate from the very walls themselves did little to reassure her. And in abrupt confirmation of her worries, the alarm broke off to be replaced by a man's voice. "The self-destruct sequence has been activated..." A sudden attack of certainty struck Aldara, and she grabbed at Reinald's sleeve. "We've got to get out of here NOW!" she insisted. "But..." Reinald began, but one look into her eyes, combined with the countdown that echoed though the air, signaling some unknown kind of disaster, and he abruptly lost any desire to argue. The urgency drove them all, and moving in unison, they turned on their heels and raced back the way they had come, down the hall, through the doors into the lobby, and out into the welcoming night. - - - - - Getting up through the window was much harder than climbing down, but driven by desperation, they somehow managed. Mulder physically hefted first Andalor, then Scully up towards the broken window, shoving them out with all of his remaining strength. Then he turned to assist Jourdain with the still-hysterical girl. Shannon fought them, kicking and biting, until Jourdain lost patience, backhanding her into unconsciousness. Then together, the two men lifted her up through the opening, Scully and Andalor pulling hard from above. At long last, they got her to the relative safety of the sidewalk, leaving the men to decide who would go next. Mulder broke in before Jourdain could speak. "Don't be a fool, it took a lot to get you down, you'll need me pushing to get you out." Jourdain wanted to argue, but one look at his friend's determined face, and he unhappily acceded. Climbing upward, he seized the edges of the window frame, a groan escaping, as he attempted to lever all of his bulk upwards, the muscles in his arms and shoulders screaming with the effort. Then suddenly, there came a violent shove on his feet, and he shot upwards. His hands and arms extended outward, to use the wall of the building as a support to pull himself out. Hands closed in around his upper arms, and began to pull. The combined push from below and assist from above moved him one slow inch at a time. A tense moment came when his hips got caught, his jacket snagged on a rusty, protruding nail. But with one last, fervent effort, he broke through, and was able to crawl out onto the ground. "MULDER!" Scully screamed, almost crawling on top of Jourdain, to stare down into the darkness. Mulder didn't waste his breath replying, the echo of the count as it reached the low twenties reverberating in his mind as he clambered up the loose pile of junk to reach for the window sill. Unsteady to begin with, the loose agglomeration of boxes and broken pieces of furniture tilted under his feet, threatening to tumble him to the ground. //MULDER!!!\\ Scully cried again, stretching her hand as far down as she could, fingers grasping at air...at air...at... Mulder's fingers brushed hers, missed, then swung back again and.... caught and held onto hers. Scully strained to pull him upwards, but lean as he was, he still weighed far too much for her to bring him up alone. But she was not alone, and in less than an instant, she felt Jourdain's weight come down on top of hers, his long, massive arm following the short length of hers until his heavy callused fist closed tightly around Mulder's slender wrists. Together, they pulled upwards, teeth clamped, breath caught in their lungs, each second racing by. First one arm came through, followed by the other. Then his head and shoulders appeared, Jourdain shifting his grip to ake hold of Mulder's armpits. One more desperate yank from both Scully and Jourdain, and Mulder came flying up through the window, to the point that he could grab hold of their shoulders and wriggle his own hips and legs up and out. Crawling over Scully, Mulder rolled off to the side just as the countdown hit "ten...nine...eight..." "Ggget going...." Mulder rasped, stumbling for his feet and reaching for Scully's arm. She took hold of him, while Jourdain moved surprisingly fast for someone his size. Scooping up Shannon, he ordered Andalor to run. They managed to put about six feet between them and the building when the explosion came. Not pausing an instant, they ran even harder, while the ground rocked beneath their feet. Andalor stumbled, only to be caught on the collar by Mulder. Yanking the boy up, Mulder almost threw him forward, only to be knocked over himself as a wave of pure force emanated from the exploding building, sending them all tumbling across the pavement. Staggering, they half-ran, half-crawled away from the raging inferno that had once been the complex. It seemed an eternity until they were far enough away to pause, gasping for breath, and turn to stare with wide-eyed shock at the conflagration. Still holding the unconscious Shannon in his arms, Jourdain felt his stomach turn over in his belly, a tide of nausea rising in his throat as he abruptly remembered that his wife had been in that building. "Aldara...." he whispered, almost terrified to even say her name. But it was loud enough for Scully to hear, and her hand still clasped tightly in Mulder's turned to look up at him, en equal sense of pain and terror striking her lovely face. But before either of them could react further, a voice cried out their names in a shout of pure relief. "Jourdain, Scully, Mulder....!!!!" All spun on their heels to see the tiny form of Aldara streaking towards them, her long hair streaming out behind her. In an instant, Jourdain lowered Shannon to the ground and was gone, leaping forward to sweep his wife up into his embrace. "Aldara..." And this time her name was spoken with a ripple of pure joy. Behind them, Mulder's fingers tightened convulsively on Scully's while she merely leaned her head against his shoulder. Nothing more was needed. End Chapter Twelve =========================================================================== Chapter Thirteen The chaplain brushed the dirt from his hands before he walked over to the assembled mourners. The weather, perhaps to match their mood, had turned gray and a heavy cold drizzle that defied the canopy of umbrellas seemed to soak right into their bones. Shannon stood between Scully and Mulder, who cupped her elbow to help support the shaky teen. The chaplain murmured a few words of solace to Shannon, who tearfully nodded. He patted her on the shoulder and kissed her on the head. Then, as was his habit, he solemnly shook hands with each mourner in turn, grasping each hand warmly in both his own. It was perhaps fortunate that this all-embracing handshake left little opportunity to closely inspect those hands, especially that of the short, stocky, heavily veiled person with the odd looking-shoes. Shannon continued to stare into her mother's grave. Two men waited by a backhoe fifty feet away, respectfully but with growing impatience as the weather worsened. Scully put her arm around her shoulder and urged her back from the side of the grave. "Come on, Shannon, honey. There's nothing more you can do here. Let's get you back to the Professor's house and tuck you in." "I thought she hated me...I thought I was only a burden to her." Shannon turned tear-streaked cheeks to Scully. "I told her a hundred times that I hated her. And now she's gone and she'll never know that I really loved her and...and that I was so proud of her." The tears were coming faster now - tears that she had refused to shed in the three days since the events at the complex. Her voice was increasingly hysterical as she sobbed. Both Mulder and Scully had been expecting this, the finality of her mother's death sinking in, and were in a way glad that the child was beginning to grieve openly. But the sobs wracking the girl's body were agonizing to see, and everyone had tears in their eyes, for both Shannon's pain of loss and their own. Jourdain and Aldara were no exception. While they had not known Karen well, they admired gallantry and courage in whoever they found it. Having a daughter themselves, they knew that they would unhesitatingly make the same decision Karen had to save the life of their own child. Mulder caught Scully's mind. //Why don't you take the others and go back to the Professor's house? I'll stay here and try to put my psychology credentials to use. We'll follow along shortly.\\ Wordlessly, she nodded. Putting up a light shield, she briefly thought how much she hated seeing Mulder in this role, taking on another's pain as his own. She had seen it so many times in the course of their work at the Bureau, when the couple had to break the worst possible news to the waiting family of a victim. But Mulder, the victim of so much pain himself, saw it as part of his job and Scully had to admit his sensitivity and empathy had started many mourners on their way to closure and healing. With a gesture, she gathered the others and they began walking slowly back to the long black line of cars. He let the girl stare into the grave for several minutes. Then in a voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the raindrops on his umbrella, he said, "Shannon, you are not responsible for your mother's death." She whipped around to face him. "Oh no?" she asked harshly. "She chose to die to save my life. What would you call it?" "She made a decision that any parent would make, Shannon, and she made it willingly. It was a bargain, as far as she was concerned." The anger left her face suddenly as the tears started again. "I wasted all my time with her, Mulder. I wasted it and I'll never get it back, I'll never have another chance." He put his arm around her shoulders and began to lead her unresistingly away from the gravesite. Bleakly, he considered her words. "I know. That's the hardest part. And I do know what I'm talking about. Let me tell you about my family, Shannon." He told her of the wasted years with his own parents. He told her about the loss of his sister - not all the details, but how it had devastated him, filled him with guilt for the times he had ignored her, or played tricks on her, or insisted on having his own way. "What you're feeling is normal - terribly painful, but normal," he said tenderly. "You won't get that time back, but you will come to terms with it, I promise you. There will come a time when you won't feel the pain you're feeling now - it just takes work. And Shannon - your mother was a very intelligent lady. She knew that you loved her." Back at the long black limo supplied by the funeral home, he opened the door for the girl and then slid in beside her. Exhausted, still torn apart by grief, she burrowed into Mulder's shoulder. His arms surrounding her, she sobbed herself to sleep. Grimly, Mulder held her close and tried once again to put back into place all those pain-evoking memories of his own. Physician, heal thyself, he thought wryly. When they reached the Professor's house, the driver opened the door to let them out. Scully came down the flagstone walkway to meet them, and put her arm around the groggy child's waist. //How was it?\\ //About what you'd expect - she's feeling pretty guilty.\\ She could sense his shield and knew the experience had been harder for him than he wanted her to know. Her look of concern was for both the child and the man. He felt a wave of serenity and comfort and love from her, and returned his own love and gratitude. Scully took Shannon upstairs, bathed her face, helped her into pajamas and put her to bed. Opening the bedroom door to leave the girl to sleep, she found Andalor pacing in the hallway. He looked up at the sound and came over to Scully. "How is she?" he whispered. Scully smiled reassuringly. "She's still pretty upset, but she's sleeping now. She'll be all right, Andalor, it's just going to take time." He nodded. "I know - I remember. Do you think I might ...go in and sit with her for a while - just in case she wakes up? Shannon and I talked a lot when we were on the run. She knows me better than she knows anyone here." He shrugged. "Maybe I can help somehow." "I think that would be wonderful, Andalor. Call us if you need anything." Scully patted the boy's arm. He smiled briefly and went into Shannon's room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She went down the curving staircase to find everyone gathered in the living room drinking coffee or tea to get the chill out of their bones - a chill not entirely due to the weather at the cemetery. Mulder handed her a cup as she sank gratefully beside him into the deep cushions of the sofa. Reinald was speaking. "I haven't yet had a real chance to talk to Andalor about returning to the Realm. He seems very close to this girl, and I haven't wanted to push him into thinking about his Kingship when his thoughts are so obviously with this poor child right now." "Probably very wise, Reinald, " Mulder said. "He's been through a lot too and will need a little time to recover. I think the violence of this world shocked him." "There is no hurry. You are all welcome to stay as long as you wish," the Professor said quietly. "How are you doing, Gunther?" Scully asked gently. He had been, in his own way, as devastated by the events at the complex as Shannon had. He shared her almost unbearable guilt and regret at Karen's death. He tried hard to smile at her, but couldn't. "No better than the child, I suppose. I have come to some decisions, however." He drew in a deep breath and exhaled shakily. "I know I can no longer continue the Vortex experiments. There will always be someone in this world who will try to corrupt the use of the Vortex, I know that now. I was probably naive not to have considered it before. That naivete, or perhaps negligence, on my part killed Karen." "No, Professor," Mulder said firmly. "It was the corruption of others that killed Karen, not your experiments." "A distinction without a difference for me right now, Mulder," he replied sadly. "I know I will come to see it like that, but not now, not yet. In any event, I will not replace the equipment lost in the explosion and I will not resume the Vortex experiments. My life's work is over. I will destroy any notes and documents related to it. Maybe I can save some lives in the future that way - too late for Karen of course, but ..." The grief stricken man trailed off. Reinald cleared his throat quietly. "Will you stay here, Gunther?" The Professor looked puzzled for a few seconds. "I - I don't know. I don't suppose I've given it much thought. Why?" "Well, it occurs to me that losing both your colleague and your life's work is doubly tragic," the Mage said. "You know, there is a place that you could continue your work without fear of people trying to steal it to use to their own ends." The Professor thought for a few minutes. "The Realm? You mean, go back? I never really thought about it - I always thought that once I returned here, I would stay." He shook his head. "No, my enthusiasm for my work is dead, I wouldn't resume it now even if I found a safe place." "Gunther, if I may interject, I think you're making a mistake," said Mulder. "I know you're upset right now, and feeling guilty, and you probably think that somehow you deserve to lose what's most precious to you, your work. But that's no more acceptable or true for you than it would be for Shannon." He looked earnestly into the old man's eyes. "You are not to blame for Karen's death, and you have nothing to atone for. It makes no sense to cut yourself off from the one thing that may bring you some comfort." "And there is another, more practical consideration," added Reinald. "I assume that you will assist us to return home." Neumann nodded and murmured "Of course." Reinald returned the nod. "Since the equipment used to create it will be gone, the Vortex will not exist. We are not sure what the effect of that will be." "What do you mean?" asked Jourdain, becoming alarmed. He had a dim outlook on magic and vortex travel at the best of times. The Mage frowned. "It is possible that Scully and Mulder's being able to travel from the Realm back to this world was only because the Vortex, in a larger sense, existed in this world. We got here because, between the Professor and myself, we could create a controlled vortex powerful enough to span the time and space between our worlds, independent of the larger vortex experiments in this world. "Yes, but I don't quite see- ," Neumann began. "Gunther, if you stay here after we return to the Realm, we can not be sure that we will ever be able to see each other again," Reinald explained patiently. "I will be there and you will be here, with neither of us individually having the power to create a means to travel back and forth. All of us in the Realm may once again be sealed off, and none of you who inhabit this world may ever be able to visit us again. " Scully made an involuntary exclamation and Mulder's hand closed over hers. Never to see the Realm again! Never to meet her namesake, never again to learn from Corvay, joke with Lita, spar with Aldara, never to see Andalor crowned King. She knew how much she had missed the Realm, even when the possibility of returning existed. How much harder would it be to have to say goodbye, knowing that it was forever? She caught Mulder's thoughts, very much like her own. But she also saw that regardless of how they felt, the decision would have to be the Professor's. He was silent for a long time. "You are correct in at least one way, my old friend," he said to Reinald. "Without my work, my life has no purpose. And other than to get you home, I will not resume my work in this world. But this is a big decision, a decision that will effect the rest of my life, and apparently many other lives as well. I can't make that decision right now, I simply haven't the heart for it. So what I will do is this." He had the rapt attention of the entire room. "I will return to the Realm with you - for now. There's certainly nothing holding me to this world," he said with some bitterness. "Once I get there, I will try to put my thoughts in some kind of order so I can make a final decision about where and how I will spend the rest of my life. Is that fair?" Reinald nodded, a hint of a twinkle in his eye. "Most of all, it is fair to you, Gunther. Now - for the biggest question - is it even going to be possible for us to get back? Both Mulder and I feel the pressure that this world exerts against the use of magic, which is something I hadn't counted on when we were planning this little visit. I'm not sure that I can generate enough power with my magic to help to create the vortex we need to get us back. Tarnor is less subject the effect this world has on magic use, but he has no experience in forming or controlling a vortex." "With access to some of the materials here, I can improve on my rather rudimentary machinery in the Realm," Neumann said. "That may help to offset some of the problem, but I can't guarantee it will be enough. Our vortex creation in the Realm was based more on magic than technology. The machinery just helped to magnify the Mage's powers." This time the involuntary sound was made by Aldara. "I am sorry, Mage, Professor. I know you are doing your best. But our work here is almost completed and I find I miss Daanna more with every passing moment. Even the thought that I may never return to her...." A cheerful voice piped up. "Don't forget that my use of magic in this world does not seem to have the same effect on me that Mage Mulder and Mage Reinald experience when they use magic," Tarnor said. "My magic was just as strong as in the Realm. It is true that the spells I've used here have worked somewhat more slowly than I am used to, but otherwise they worked just as I had intended, and I felt only slightly unsteady afterwards for a few seconds. With sufficient guidance, I may be able to help solve our little difficulty." He beamed at Aldara, who smiled back gratefully. "Don't worry, Aldara, we'll get you home to Daanna." "How soon can you have the calculations complete, Professor?" asked Mulder. "It will take a day or two for the calculations, another day for putting together all the equipment and solutions that I need and actually building the apparatus," he replied. "But I can't even start on the calculations until I know how many people are going to go back to the Realm." They all looked at each other. It was true. Obviously Jourdain and Aldara, Tarnor and Reinald were going back, and now the Professor. But what of the remainder of them, and most importantly, Andalor? The Prince's arrival cut into their speculations. "Shannon is still asleep." He descended the last few stairs, crossed to Reinald's armchair and sat cross-legged on the floor. "I owe you all an apology. Especially you, Reinald. You've never been anything but good to me. With all the studying and the approaching coronation, I felt the world closing in on me, just like when I was turned to stone. But I acted like a willful child, using the vortex experiments to run away and causing all of you to risk your lives in coming after me. Words only mean so much, and they are not sufficient to express how ashamed of myself I am. I can only hope that somehow I will be such a good King that all this, in time, can be forgotten." There were approving nods from all over the room. Andalor shook his head wonderingly. "I have seen so much in this world - things of great beauty, things of great power. There is so much of everything here. But it is all so out of control and disorderly. The forces of evil are here - I never expected that. I don't know whether it is because the evil here is so strong, or because I was unprepared for it, but my time here has forced me to do things I'm not proud of. I don't like the way this world makes me feel, about others and about myself. I know now that this is not my world. I'm glad I came here, but I'll be gladder to go." The Mage beamed. "In the last three days, I have observed you finally acting like a man, Andalor. If this is what was necessary to make that happen, then I'm glad you came here. I am very proud of you." Neumann permitted himself a brief smile. "So you will return with us, Andalor. Good." "I'm glad you're going back, too, Professor, very glad. I believe we were in the middle of a chess game when I ran off - and I was winning, I seem to remember." The boy grinned teasingly up at the scientist, then sobered. "Seriously, Professor, the place wouldn't be the same without you." Overcome, the older man swallowed hard, and merely nodded. "Um, while you're at those equations, Professor - Scully and I have been talking. Even before we began to get the signals that indicated Reinald was trying to contact us, we had both been missing the Realm a lot - thinking about all of you, wishing we could see you again," Mulder admitted. "Now it seems that it is possible that we may not have another opportunity, if the destruction of the Vortex equipment has the effect you think it may have. I called down to the Bureau in Washington this morning, before the funeral. Scully and I have at least another full week off coming to us. So, I guess what I'm saying is, if it's possible for us to go back with you for a visit, we'd love to come along. Am I correct in assuming that there would be no difficulty getting us back here from the Realm?" "As far as I know, that is correct," said the Professor. "From the Realm to here, I do not think that there will be a problem. From here to the Realm, especially without Reinald or Tarnor or myself on this side to channel and magnify the forces, well... it could be tricky." "Is that your well-known talent for understatement coming through, Gunther?" Scully smiled. "As Mulder said, we have vacation time coming to us, we should take a vacation, and I can't think of a better place to take it than in the Realm." Aldara let out a whoop of joy and leapt across the room to hug her friend. "You aren't going to leave me here alone, are you?" Shannon looked down from the banister of the staircase, as everyone froze. The room was deathly silent for some time, no one knowing what to say to the girl. "Uh, Shannon - we can't just take you with us, it's not that simple," said Scully finally. "First of all, you've just been through a terrible shock, and you need time to heal. The best place to do that is in surroundings you're familiar with, among your own relatives. I'm sure your mother made some sort of provision in her will about whom she wanted to care for you in case anything happened to her." "Actually, I don't think she did." The Professor frowned. "I seem to remember Karen's saying that the whole idea of making a will gave her the shakes, and she kept putting it off. It was very unusual behavior for someone like Karen, but she did have those two quirks - a morbid fear of anything to do with death and an unrelenting hatred for government, any government." A frisson raising gooseflesh went around the room, as everyone considered the irony of his statement. Shaken, Neumann stammered, "I - I d-don't think she ever g- got around to it" and his eyes filled with tears. The room was again silent for several moments. "But surely you have family," Aldara urged. "In the Realm, families tend to be large, and the oldest brother has charge over the children of all his siblings. If anything happens to their natural father, the children become his responsibility. Even if nothing happens, he is their confidante and advisor for life. We even have a special title for this person - Taabsut. Is it not like this in your world?" As Scully shook her head, Shannon smiled sadly. "It wouldn't matter. My mother was an only child, and my grandparents are dead. I never knew my father, and anyway, my mother said he was dead, too. She told me once that the Professor was the only person she would trust me with, but she didn't want to ask him because he was old - sorry, Professor Neumann." He smiled at her. "Your mother was right, I AM old, Shannon. But you have no one else, it seems. Very well, I shall stay here and I will take care of you." Disappointed looks, quickly hidden, appeared on several faces, but not so quickly that Shannon didn't notice them. "I won't let you do that, Professor. I'd drive you crazy. And no offense, but you said yourself that you're old. What would happen to me if you, well, ...." She gracefully let the sentence remain unfinished. "Anyway, staying here is not what you want to do, I can see that. And I wouldn't want to feel responsible for holding you here." She finally came down the flight of stairs and sat next to Andalor. "And as to familiar surroundings to heal in, forget it. Everything around here reminds me of the past few days, and I hate it." "But Shannon, if I don't take care of you, the state will put you in some sort of foster home or something," protested the Professor. Mulder cleared his throat. "Actually, they could do that anyway, since Karen didn't leave any legal written instructions regarding Shannon's care. With no will and with no family relationship involved, the state may very well decide to put Shannon into foster care, regardless of the Professor's willingness to have her stay with him." "Not for long, they wouldn't," the girl vowed darkly. "No, I can see that," Mulder smiled and the girl returned it, her face lightening for the first time since they had met her. //Mulder, what are you thinking?\\ Even through the bond, the 'skeptical Scully' tone was clear. //Well, don't you think the Realm is a lot more wholesome place to grow up than on the streets of Boston? Because we all know that's where she would end up. Gunther wouldn't be able to handle her - with his guilt about Karen's death he'd spoil her rotten and she'd walk all over him. If she were put into foster care, she wouldn't be with her foster parents more than a day before she split. I'm telling you, Scully, if we leave her here it will be like a death sentence - maybe worse.\\ //But the Realm is a whole different world, Mulder! And a different language and a different culture, and elves and trolls and garg- Oh!\\ She broke off as she watched Shannon walk over to Tarnor, perhaps taking in his strangeness for the first time. The girl stared, then seemed to recover her composure. "Cool! Are there any more at home like you?" she asked in wonder. Tarnor flashed her a terrifying gargoyle grin. "I have four brothers and five sisters who are still at home," he declared proudly, taking her question literally. Scully looked on as Shannon, uncertain at first, finally returned the gargoyle's smile and, succumbing to the creature's natural charisma, sat at his feet. //I guess that takes care of that little problem.\\ Mulder's tone was undeniably smug. Scully knew when she was beaten. She could also understand the logic of Mulder's thinking. //Alright, but it has to be an informed decision on her part. She needs to understand how different things are there - all the customs and etiquette. It's not going to be that easy for her there, either.\\ //I know. Thanks, Scully.\\ Aloud he said, "Shannon, you need to know what the Realm is like before you come to any decision." Seeing triumph in her face, he said firmly, "No! Now listen to me, Shannon! Nothing has been decided yet. But remember something. Andalor ran away from his world. It is not the perfect world you may be thinking it is. There is a different language, and there is a very complex and rigid structure of customs and etiquette which simply must be followed, or you'll be an outcast. There will be an incredible amount for you to have to learn in a short time, just to be able to get by. And this has to be a group decision. Scully and I will be there for a relatively short time only. If you are to stay there, you will have to have a sponsor and begin training for some sort of vocation. And if it doesn't work out, we will bring you back here with us when we return, and figure out a new plan." "If I may," Aldara interjected softly. "I see in Shannon so much of myself at her age - rebellion, anger - but also a passion to know and to experience." She smiled over at the girl, then turned her attention again to Mulder and Scully. "And I have seen her in action, Mage Mulder. I have an excellent - if brief - record of training women from your world to be warriors, and Shannon looks like she has promise. If she finds nothing else to her liking, I can make a fine warrior of her." "Speaking from experience, Shannon, you will never work harder in your life," Scully said, looking with affection to her teacher. "But you will never be prouder of yourself, either." "So it's true - I can come with you! Oh, thank you! Andy! I'm going to your world! The two teenagers hugged, but then Andalor took her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. "I want you to come to my world, Shannon, but mark well Mage Mulder's words. I came to your world thinking it would be wonderful and exciting and free of responsibility. And I was wrong. Just because a place is different doesn't necessarily make it better. I found out that I belong in my world. You may find that you belong in yours." "I know," she said, her face shining. "But there's a difference, Andy. I never really had a place in this world. Maybe the Realm won't be perfect, but I'd like to try it, to see if I can make a place for myself in it. I'm not expecting it to be easy, and I do thank all of you, especially Mulder and Aldara. But it's more of a chance than I feel I have here, surrounded by all the memories. This world killed my mother, and I've - I've taken a lot of risks myself, I see that now. I want - I NEED - a second chance, a chance to start over, before this world kills me, too." The room was still for a few minutes, everyone lost in his or her own thoughts of homecoming, renewed friendships, or new beginnings. Finally, Professor Neumann broke the silence. "Then if no one has any objections, I'll make the calculations to include all of us." There was a collective sigh of relief from the grief and terror of the past several days, and a sense of purpose filled everyone in the room. They were all going to the Realm. ------------------------ End Chpt13 Part A ----------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Thirteen Part B The next few days were filled with activity, with each person having chores to accomplish. Mulder and the Professor were the busiest. After a three day information blackout, the newspapers finally mentioned the explosion at the complex, attributing the disaster to a tragic lab accident with some unstable chemicals. Karen's name had led the list of the dead which also included several 'lab assistants' who had probably never performed an experiment in their abruptly-ended lives. As Mulder and Scully had assumed, there was no mention of Gordon. While they were disgusted by the usual government disinformation, at least there was no explanation of their own actions necessary, nothing to be cleared up. Indeed, Mulder, Scully, Shannon and the rest might not have even been there, to read the press release. Mulder had tried to get more information from his sources scattered throughout the country and even chanced a call to the Lone Gunmen, but the lid was on tight. No one could tell him anything about Gordon, or the black ops group that may have sponsored his project, or even the fate of the project, now that the complex was in ashes. Skinner had been his usual enigmatic self when Scully called, limiting himself to a terse observation that Mulder always seemed to be where there was trouble. Everyone was frustrated that the truth would not emerge, but channeled their emotions into the many tasks that needed to be accomplished before they could leave. Mulder had volunteered to help with the legal affairs of the group, which were formidable. His first task was to clear up Karen's estate, which had to be done very delicately. He didn't want to call attention to Shannon, fearful that the state would become involved in her case. But at the same time he wanted to be sure Karen's assets would be available to her, should she ever need them. He had a friend in Boston, a former FBI agent who had decided to leave the Bureau to open his own law practice. The two men spent hours making arrangements to cover every possible eventuality. He also filed papers with the lawyer for Professor Neumann, stating his intentions about the disposition of his property. The old gentleman had decided that if he were not back in this world in a year's time, he probably would not be coming back. Therefore, it was his intention to donate his property at that time as a shelter for runaway children, should he fail to return. The arrangements Mulder and the lawyer made would ensure that the Professor's wishes would come true. Next, after a quick stop to retrieve Andalor and Shannon's things from an annoyed motel manager, Mulder and Andalor paid a visit to the police. The same desk sergeant was on duty at the precinct house. "Sergeant McCormack, good to see you again," said Mulder, shaking hands with the officer. "This is the young man I spoke to you about. You said you needed to see him, and I thought I would bring him by before returning him to his parents." "What's your name, son?" The officer looked down from his tall desk with a kindly expression, to be regarded by mesmerizing purple eyes. Andalor had been briefed by Mulder about his cover story. Whenever a question became tricky, he was to resort to the use of the Witness Protection Program as a reason to avoid answering. "Uh, I'm sorry sir, I cannot tell you. But I wanted to apologize about hurting that other boy. I would not have done it if I had not felt myself and my companion threatened." McCormack looked down at the handsome lad with the oddly sophisticated bearing. Almost - regal, he thought. "I understand that Agent Mulder is taking you out of town, so we won't have to worry about any recurrences here. But son, you were lucky. Frankie and his gang are slime and richly deserve to be carved up. But if he had died, you could have been in very big trouble. Scum like that isn't worth it. Wherever you end up, be careful where you're walking around, okay? I hope you've learned something from this whole experience." "Yes sir, I have. I - thank you, sir." The lips closed firmly but the sparkling eyes told the cop that there was something the boy had wanted to say, and that he had thought better of it. McCormack smiled broadly. "Yes, I can see you have. Okay son, you can go now. Good luck to you. And to you, Agent Mulder." The two said goodbye to the desk sergeant and left the station house to walk back to the parking garage. "Okay, so what did you learn?" asked Mulder, grinning. "I learned that Frankie wouldn't have lasted two seconds with a soul eater," said Andalor, with consummate satisfaction. - - - - - The Professor and Reinald were bent over the papers strewn all over the desk in Neumann's study when Shannon came in. "Aldara wants to know if we're going tonight," she announced. The two men straightened up stiffly, the Professor with a little groan. "It looks like it, Shannon. We're very close. And once the calculations are complete, we should probably leave as soon as possible," said Reinald. "This is so incredible. How can this happen?" she wondered aloud, looking over all the figures on all the sheets of paper. "Are you really interested?" asked the Professor. "Yeah, actually, I am. I mean, I'm just really glad to be going and everything, but how come no one has ever discovered how to do this before?" So Professor Neumann launched into a basic explanation of the symbiotic relationship between magic and science, how each could strengthen the other until the whole was greater than the sum of its parts. "You see, it is only because this world has no regard for magic that we have not unlocked the mysteries to many wonders. It was very hard for me to come to this realization. I had been approaching the Vortex experiments from a purely scientific viewpoint in this world. But I learned about the value of magic in the Realm, and how to use it to extend the boundaries of scientific possibilities. Magic can refine and improve science. And I'm not talking magic like David Copperfield - those are merely parlor tricks. In its way, magic is a science all its own. I consider my friend Reinald here a most talented scientist." "But what about time? Scully was telling me that when she and Mulder were in the Realm, that it seemed to them that they were there a year or so, but when they got back, they had only been gone for a day and a half." Reinald smiled. "First, Shannon my dear, if you would live in the Realm, you must get used to using titles, especially titles for the most esteemed of our residents and visitors. It is a very important part of our beliefs. Scully is Warrior Scully or Healer Scully or both, and she should be addressed as such. And Agent Mulder is a magician of incredible power when he is in the Realm, and must be addressed as Mage Mulder." "Mulder? A MAGICIAN? You've got to be kidding!" the girl said incredulously. Reinald shook his head. "No, in some ways he may be more powerful than I. His training has been incomplete, but make no mistake, he has enormous power." "Unbelievable. And you are Mage Reinald?" He nodded, his eyes twinkling. "What about Andy?" "Ah, yes, I'm glad you brought that up. 'Andy', as you call him, is Prince Andalor, and should be addressed as such." She looked at the Mage, a look of frank disbelief on her face. "You're kidding," she said flatly. Seeing him solemnly shake his head, she said, "Oh God, you're not kidding are you? Andy - I mean, Prince Andalor would always talk about being a Prince and telling people not to touch him without permission and all that, but I figured it was a load of shi-, I mean, I thought he was cra-, I mean, I just didn't believe him," she finally finished, weakly. "No, my dear, it's quite true. Andalor will be crowned King fairly soon after we return to the Realm." "Cool! I know a King!" the teenager breathed, and was silent for a few minutes, deep in thought. "So what's MY title?" The two older men burst out laughing. "Ah, that remains to be seen, Shannon," Reinald said, not unkindly. "We will have to read your aura, find out what you have a gift for, see how hard you work and how accomplished you become. Then perhaps we will have an idea of your permanent title." "Why can't you read my aura now?" "Because for one thing, I don't read auras particularly well. There is a wonderfully talented elf who works at the castle named Lita who will read and help to interpret your aura to determine your training in our world. For another thing, your world reduces the power and magnitude of auras, bleaches them out in a way, so that even Lita would have a difficult time reading them here. Unless a Mage is performing magic, when even in this world a blue aura may be discernible." "An elf. Incredible," she murmured. In a louder voice she asked, "Will I be able to see auras in the Realm?" "Possibly. You may possess that talent, or you may not. In the Realm, elves are the best at reading auras - they can see an aura for almost everyone. We won't know if you can read auras until we get there." Nodding, Shannon accepted that explanation. "Okay, well, what about time, like I asked before?" The Professor and Reinald looked at each other. Obviously they were going to get no work done for a while. While they hated losing the time from their work, they also did not want to dampen the enthusiasm of the child who had so recently lost her mother. "I will take a short break, Gunther, while you answer Shannon's question. I must say that when you begin to explain all about time, it makes my head hurt." Gently smiling, Reinald excused himself and left the room. "All right, Shannon, think of time as like a river, only instead of water flowing, it's a gel-like substance that drifts and eddies and whirls...." - - - - - Reinald trailed out to the kitchen, where Aldara and Scully and Jourdain were finishing up packing. "Might there be tea?" the Mage inquired, hopefully. "We could use a break, too. I'll make some fresh," said Jourdain, taking some of the Realm tea from a sack in his belt. He used the stove as if he were sure it was going to explode in his face at any moment, but at least he used it. Scully and Aldara looked on with some amusement, which they were careful to hide when he turned to face them once again. "Most of the packing is done," said Scully, collapsing gratefully onto a chair. Their last trip to the Realm had been precipitous, with no opportunity either to bring certain potentially helpful objects with them, nor leave others behind, like Mulder's keys. This time, Scully had taken the opportunity to go on a little shopping trip. She had packed gifts for Lita and her children, some medical books and instruments for Corvay, a beautiful cloak (unexpectedly found in a costume shop) for Prince Mavor, and several pounds of coffee for herself and Mulder to use while they were in the Realm. The most extravagant gift was for Daanna - a gorgeous rose silk dress and lacy white pinafore, with a doll in precisely matching clothes. Aldara had protested vigorously about the value of the gift, but Scully had been firm and the purchase made. She had also bought all of the instruments and materials the Professor had requested in a lengthy list he had given her, and two five pound sacks of sunflower seeds - one for Mulder's consumption, and one for attempting to plant a crop of sunflowers in the Realm. "You need to tell Gunther to plan on another forty or fifty pounds of supplies and things." Aldara accounted for nearly fifteen pounds of the excess baggage, mostly in earth fashions and Cadbury chocolate bars, a newly discovered passion. Absently rubbing her sore feet, Scully's mind drifted off to thoughts of... ...the previous day's highly emotional trip to Karen's house, so that Shannon could pick up anything that she felt she would need or want in the Realm. The girl had found a few items of clothing and a couple of books in her own room and placed them in a box. Then she went into her mother's room and chose several lovely pieces of jewelry, keeping her emotions in check. Until she opened the bottom drawer of the dresser. There was every photograph ever taken of Shannon. Messy first birthday smiles, gap-toothed kindergarten grins, a more reserved fourth grade portrait, photographs with an increasingly sullen subject as time went on. There was even an old picture of a golden haired young woman, obviously pregnant, looking adoringly up at the tall, dark-haired man standing next to her. The drawer was full - baby shoes, photographs, school papers and report cards, macaroni Christmas wreaths, clay objects of indeterminate use and form, paper chains and drawings. A drawer full of loving memories. Shannon sank to the floor, clutching some photographs to her chest as tears ran down her cheeks. "Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry," she whispered. Peeking into the room, Scully saw the child sobbing and went down on her knees beside her. She held her for a long time until the sobs quieted. Then she picked up the old photograph from where it had fallen. "Is this your father?" Scully asked. Shannon gulped and sniffed a couple times. "I - I don't know. Maybe." She smiled. "He HAS to be, Shannon. You look exactly like him. It looks as if your mother loved him - and you - a lot." "Do you think I can bring some of these with me?" the girl asked hesitantly. "I don't see why not," Scully said gently. "And that picture of the two of you on her desk in the study is wonderful - why don't you take that one too?" She went with Shannon to the study and picked up the picture. "You both look happy here." The girl looked at the photo over Scully's shoulder and smiled at the memory that came back to her. "Yeah. We had gone up to Vermont for a long weekend last fall. Mom just ditched work and took me out of school and we drove up. We stayed in a little bed and breakfast and hiked and went to apple orchards and helped press our own cider. It was a really wonderful trip." Scully turned to face the teen and smoothed her hair back from her face. "This is what you need to remember, Shannon - a mother and daughter being happy together." The girl nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "Got everything? asked Scully. "Yeah - I do now." ...Scully came out of her reverie as Jourdain passed her a mug of the invigorating Realm tea. The effects here were not as pronounced as they had been in the Realm, but the hot liquid still served to give her a little jolt of badly needed energy. "Jourdain, have you figured out the groups yet?" she asked. The Professor had already computed that the nine of them should go in three groups of three, but the breakdown of the groupings had been left to Jourdain. "Yes, I think so. Obviously, the Professor and Reinald and Tarnor must go in the last group. I am not happy about that fact, from the point of view of their safety. Once the rest of us are gone, there will be no one to protect them," Jourdain explained. "If our activities are noted, reported and investigated, they could be in danger, both from forces that would seek to do Tarnor harm because he is of another species, and those who would seek to capture the Professor for his work. We still do not know if the Vortex project is dead or merely moribund, waiting for someone like the Professor to be forced into doing the bidding of men like those who abducted Karen." Scully nodded. She and Mulder had talked about the same possibility the previous night, resulting in little sleep for both of them. That was one of the reasons for their impatience for the group to return to the Realm. "I have come up with a plan," continued Jourdain. "The Professor has said that it will take a bit of time between groups, so that both Reinald and Tarnor may refresh their powers and to allow him time to recalibrate the equipment for the new total weight of the vortex travellers." "How long?" asked Aldara, frowning. The longer the procedure took, the greater the risk of their being discovered. "Possibly as little as ten minutes," replied her husband. "But consider the difference this will make because of the time differences between the two worlds. In terms of Realm time, there could be an interval of a day or so between the arrival of each group. The Professor thinks he's come up with some sort of a theory that might eliminate that, but I can't make heads nor tails of it, and I don't think we should count on it. That being the case, I propose this." Jourdain traced his plan with a finger on Scully's dining table. "In the first group will be Andalor, Aldara and myself. Andalor, for obvious reasons - the sooner we can get him back to the safety of the Realm, the better. Aldara because I wanted her there to protect the Prince. And me because Aldara refuses to go without me," he finished, somewhat embarrassed. "Don't worry about it, Jourdain," Scully grinned. "I would have resisted any sort of suggestion of 'women and children first' anyway, and I don't want to be separated from Mulder any more than Aldara wants to be separated from you." "Well - there's quite a bit more to it than that," Reinald cut in, deadly serious. "You and Mulder are lifebonded, as you know. But you had asked me a couple of days ago if physical distance between you and Mulder could present a problem. I had not thought of it before you asked, but in reality, it could be much, much more than an inconvenience." "How so?" asked Scully. She knew she felt out of sorts when she and Mulder were separated, but so far the distance had not been particularly great - her quick trip to Wisconsin a few days previous, and once before when he had had to go to Dallas and leave her in Washington. But then they had both come down with the flu a few hours after he left for Texas- . "Wait a minute - are you telling me it can actually be DANGEROUS for us to be separated by distance? That the effect of distance on the lifebond could actually make us sick? I know I never feel particularly well when Mulder has to be away from me, but I figured that was just mental." Reinald shook his head. "I don't think so. And of course, travel between worlds is not done on a regular basis, so there is little data on the subject, as Gunther would say. But it is well known in the Realm that lifebondmates try very hard not to let the distance between them become too great. Your world is larger than ours, and your means of transportation allow for greater distances to be travelled and more quickly than in the Realm. I suspect it may be an explanation for why you feel unwell when you are apart. And that being the case, it is particularly important for you not to have a whole world separating you. I have a feeling that it could be dangerous - perhaps life-threatening - if you and Mulder tried to go through the vortex separately. I would rather not put that theory to the test." "Yeah, I agree. This may put some new wrinkles into our jobs - wait until I try to tell Skinner that he can't assign us to fly off to two different places. And of course now separate vacations are out of the picture," she finished dryly. "Okay - so Mulder and I go in the second group with Shannon?" "That's correct," Jourdain replied. "One good thing - our arriving a day earlier in the Realm means that by the time you arrive, Aldara will probably have used the time to arrange a huge welcome party and festival in your honor." He ducked and chuckled as Aldara good-naturedly flung a piece of fruit at his head. He deftly caught it and began munching. - - - - - It was nearly three o'clock in the morning when they reached their destination and unloaded the trunks of Karen's and Scully's cars. They quickly unpacked the Professor's equipment and solutions first, and carried them to the nearby field, sheltered from the parking lot by a thicket of trees. Then Neumann, Mulder and Reinald set to work assembling the wires and vats and pouring out just the right amount of solution for the first vortex creation. Scully and the others sorted the other belongings and supplies and carrying them, followed the Professor's group. It had been the Professor who finally came up with the idea of their departure site. They needed something quiet, not frequented by anyone at some hour of the day, yet near enough to civilization that cars parked for several days would not invite attention. Finally, when the MIT and Harvard campuses and Walden Pond had been discussed and eliminated, Neumann had hit upon the idea of the streetcar yards at Riverside. Its location was convenient, there was a huge parking area where a couple of vehicles could easily be ignored for a week or more, it closed by 2 a.m. and was surrounded by woods and empty fields. On the way to the site, the Professor had briefed Mulder and Reinald about his latest theory. He was firmly of the belief, especially after interviewing Andalor closely about his trip from the Realm, that intention played a role in creation of a vortex which would "spit them out" in the right time. Time was a huge problem to calculate, swirling as it did and making it theoretically possible to arrive before one had even left. The Professor had had limited success explaining it to Shannon, who couldn't quite get beyond the concept that there was no one equivalency for time in the Realm as compared to her world - that one Realm year might be one world day, or two, or fifty or two hundred, depending on how the gel of time was moving. It was his opinion that Andalor had arrived so close to the time he wanted to arrive, merely because he had willed it. He had taken pains with his calculations, ensuring that they would arrive in the Realm and no place else. But for the right time of arrival, he was depending on both his calculations and the collective will of the group. Obviously, there was still an element of risk involved for all of them. "All right, Jourdain, Andalor and Aldara - move over to that empty place over there - about ten yards to the left of the big rock," the Professor instructed. "Do you have everything? Okay, now remember to do as I have instructed - think of your arrival time - the middle of the night, two days after we set off. Got it? All right - gentlemen." He placed some wires in some vats of fluid and gave a quick nod to Tarnor, Reinald and Mulder gathered to his right. It had been decided to let Mulder attempt to bring his powers to bear, to try to conserve as much of Reinald's power as possible, since the Mage had to effect three vortex creations. The three Mages raised their arms, closed their eyes and began to chant. A hazy bright blue aura surrounded them. Within seconds, the air about Jourdain and his group began to swirl at their feet, engulfing them in fallen leaves. Several seconds later, even the leaves were gone. "Godspeed" murmured Scully, then gestured to an awed Shannon to pick up her backpack and take their place near where their friends had stood. Pale and shaky, Mulder walked slowly over to join them. Now Scully added her strength to his; before, she had been concerned that she would throw off the calculations somehow. He smiled wanly, grateful for her gift but not yet feeling up to showing her exactly how grateful he was. The Professor made some adjustments to his equipment. Finally, he nodded to Tarnor, who assisted Reinald up from the ground where he had been resting. "See you in the Realm," said the Professor, as once again a whirlwind developed to engulf the would-be travellers. Less than a minute later, they were also gone. This time the group gathered near the vats and pots and wires. Neumann wanted nothing left behind that might indicate that the vortex experiments could still be a reality. The likelihood that anyone would make that connection from a bunch of buckets of nasty-smelling fluid was extremely remote, but the Professor was determined that his equipment should make the trip through the vortex as well to leave no possible evidence. Reinald was unsteady on his feet and extremely pale, and had to be supported by Tarnor, who was looking none too spry himself. "Whenever you're ready, my friends," said the Professor softly. He looked around the field one more time, for what might be his last glimpse of his home world. He was surprised by the lack of emotion that he felt. Reinald drew himself up with his last vestige of strength. He and Tarnor raised their arms and began to chant, the little gargoyle trembling with the effort of supporting Reinald's fast-waning powers. Their auras began to glow. "Hey, what the hell is goin' on over there? Hey, John, come with me, there's somethin' weird happening in the field, some kinda light or somethin'. Maybe it's a UFO!" The leaves began to swirl around the travellers, cloaking them from the unwanted witnesses. The auras grew brighter, both Mages shuddering with the strain. By the time John and his companion broke through the thicket, the field was empty. End of Chapter Thirteen =========================================================================== Chapter Fourteen Part A At the first sight, the runner quietly withdrew from his vantage point and began streaking through the night to the castle as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran up the drawbridge to the portcullis where the guards, recognizing him, stood aside and exchanged significant looks as he passed. He ran through the stone hallways and out into the courtyard, to the small cottage located in the furthest corner. He pounded urgently on the door. A rumpled Jourdain, brow furrowed with concern, answered the door within seconds, speaking testimony to the fact that he had not been sleeping, despite the time of night. Eyes shining with excitement met his. "They're here!" A huge smile creased the old warrior's face. "Aldara! Aldara!" - - - - - Scully looked up, momentarily disoriented. It was night - dark, starlit. Moonlit. By TWO moons! They had done it - they had arrived! She turned to face her companions. Shannon was standing to her left, dazed and pale. "I don't feel so good." Scully looked at her with concern. "Dizzy? Headache?" The girl nodded. "Okay, Shannon, that won't last too long. It seems to be a normal side effect of travel through a vortex. Just try to take it easy, don't fight the strangeness, and we'll get you into bed as soon as we can. Grab your pack. I think I know where we are - the castle should be about a quarter of a mile in that direction. Wait - you may have to help me with Mulder." She turned her attention to her partner and bondmate, giving him what strength she could. He had slumped to the ground and was holding his head. //MULDER, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?\\ //YES. NO. I DON'T KNOW - WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING AT ME?\\ Scully made a mental adjustment. //I guess I didn't realize how much energy we have to use in our world to do this. I had forgotten how much easier it is here to communicate. Sorry. How are you feeling, really?\\ //Not great. Besides the usual 'travel sickness', I feel totally wiped out. I can only imagine how much worse Reinald must feel, after creating three vortexes. I can feel you, your strength, in me and it's helping. Thanks - I think I'd be unconscious otherwise.\\ //Do you think you can get to the castle?\\ //Yeah.\\ The tone was uncertain. She helped him to his feet and held his arm until some of the color, which had drained from his face as he stood, returned. Shakily, he nodded and she let go experimentally. Mulder took some deep breaths, then said, "Better. Let's go." Scully refused to let him carry any of the baggage and instead divided it between herself and Shannon, who was looking with wonder upon the sky. "Warrior Scully - look! Two moons!" The russet haired woman smiled at the girl. "That's just the beginning. There are a lot of wonders in store for you. Got everything? Okay, let's go." The trio set out slowly across the dew-sprinkled field, Shannon's eyes darting everywhere, frustrated by the darkness. She took in deep breaths of the cool air which was vaguely scented with something unfamiliar but pleasant. They were approaching a dense woodland area. "Unless I miss my guess, the castle should be just the other side of this...did you say something?" Scully asked. Slowly, Mulder shook his head. "No, I thought I heard something too." Shannon started. "Look over there!" The agents looked in the direction of her pointing finger to see dark shapes making their way towards them. Mulder's head snapped over toward Scully in alarm. //Soul eaters?\\ The memories of their first Realm arrival had been at the front of their minds ever since they had entered the woods. Scully closed her eyes briefly, then smiled and shook her head. //No. Friends.\\ "We're over here!" she called in New Realm. Instantly the shadowy shapes altered their direction slightly and increased their speed. "Scully? Is that really you?" Aldara emerged suddenly out of the gloom to envelop her friend in a huge hug. "You finally got here! We were beginning to think that we had lost you. The Professor has been frantic. Oh, goddess, I'm so happy! Dorbo, Flechi, help with the baggage, please. Jourdain, help Mulder - he looks terrible. Come on, everybody's waiting for you back at the castle." The group now with considerably more speed made its way to the castle. A glance back told Scully that Mulder was being half carried by the big warrior, and Shannon, wide- eyed, had just surrendered her backpack without comment to a troll. Their feet made hollow sounds on the wooden drawbridge they reached at last, and they found themselves saluted by the guards on duty at the portcullis. Scully acknowledged them with a nod before entering the courtyard and leading the way across it to the main entrance of the castle. Her feet seemed to fly over the paving stones as she led the group up the narrow winding staircase to the floor above and down the hallway to Reinald's quarters. She knocked, barely restraining herself from merely throwing open the door and bursting into the room. It was answered by a young troll, who opened the door widely to allow the group entrance. "Yes, thank you, Pitir. Welcome! I am so glad to see you have arrived safely, we were becoming concerned." The Mage reclined on a sofa which had been brought near the fire. The Professor occupied one of the armchairs. "More tea, please, Pitir. Mage Mulder, this is my newest apprentice. Pitir, meet one of the most powerful natural mages you're ever likely to find. Although I must say, he's not looking at all well right now. Run over to Corvay's and get Kyla - don't wake the Healer -and ask her to bring over the same restorative that I have been using. As usual for one of the Healer's concoctions, it tastes awful but it seems to do the trick." The Professor and Scully steered Mulder into the empty armchair, and Shannon sat crosslegged on the hearthrug. "What was he say- ," began Shannon, who stopped instantly at a tiny frown from Scully. The woman leaned down and murmured a few words to her, then Shannon got up and assisted Jourdain and Aldara to make and distribute tea. Then she sat again on the rug with her own steaming cup, sniffing it curiously before taking a sip. "Reinald, could you cast a language spell for Shannon, just for tonight?" Scully requested. "Tarnor said something about a special spell he had worked out, but he's not here, and Shannon is feeling pretty left out." Reinald said, "Of course," closed his eyes and muttered a few words. "Will he speak English now?" the girl asked. Scully laughed. "I don't think Mulder and I were ever able to figure that one out, whether we understood New Realm, or everyone here spoke in English. But you will have to begin learning New Realm, just as you will have to begin learning the customs. And one of the first is that no business is discussed until tea is served." Reinald nodded approvingly. "I suspect that you will think many of our customs silly, Shannon, but I assure you that there is a good reason for most of them. Nothing is discussed before tea is served, unless it is an emergency. This gives us time to contemplate our words, to prioritize our conversations, and to savor our relationships." He then turned to Mulder, who was looking a little better for the tea, which he had once likened to Jolt cola. "We left after you but arrived before you. We thought you might have been lost in the transition somehow. Did you notice anything unusual this trip?" Mulder chuckled lightly. "What, more unusual than the whole concept of travelling between worlds? No, only that I was extremely tired out from assisting with the creation of the first vortex. However did you manage three?" "I almost didn't." Reinald grunted. "If you hadn't helped with the first, I would have been too drained to continue. And if it hadn't been for Tarnor, I would have lost consciousness after sending your group through. As it was, his participation was absolutely critical to getting our group back to the Realm. Daanna did it once again - her dream prophesized that Tarnor's presence was going to be necessary, and she was right." "Where is your little girl?" Scully asked, looking around hopefully. "She is staying with Lita's family for the night. We've been up since we arrived back, trying to figure out what happened to you," Aldara explained. Mulder looked confused. "But I thought that these time differentials were normal. I was under the impression that everyone was going to arrive at different times, so I don't understand why you were concerned." "Because of the Intent Theory, my dear boy," replied the Professor. "Remember how I told everyone to think of the same target time? Well apparently, that allowed the first group and the last to arrive almost simultaneously back here in the Realm, in spite of the fact that they had left your world about fifteen minutes apart. Damn good thing, too, because we had to carry Reinald back to the castle." "Why do you think we arrived late?" asked Scully, pouring more tea into everyone's cup. "I'm not sure, and we may never know." Neumann frowned. "I have several theories, of course. One is that yours was the only group without a Realm native, although why that should influence the proceedings, I'm not certain. Also, your group did not originate here, and could not be certain of the exact place and time that we were targeting. The place was hopefully determined by my calculations, but we could not be sure that you would indeed arrive in that particular field." "When you described it to me, I was pretty sure of the place," Scully said. Neumann nodded. "That may have helped, but you couldn't have known the time." "It might have been my fault," Mulder began apologetically. //Mulder, not everything has to be your fault, you know,\\ Scully communicated, only partly kidding. He flashed her a brief smile. "No, this time I think it may be a fair assessment. I know we were supposed to be thinking pleasant thoughts and targeting certain times and so on just before we were sent through the vortex. But to tell you the truth, I was feeling so terrible from the strain of helping to send the first group through that I didn't think about anything, other than how lousy I felt." "And I was really excited and nervous, and I'm not sure what I was thinking about," said Shannon in a small voice. "I'm sorry." "Then that might explain it, " said the Professor. "Scully's intentions were not enough to overcome the gel-flow of time. Assuming my theory is correct of course, and there are no unknown factors at work here." The door opened, postponing further conversation as Pitir came in with Kyla. The tall statuesque human went unhesitatingly to Mulder and began to examine him. Scully hovered nearby, partly to make certain that Mulder was all right, but she also wanted to start brushing up her healing skills as soon as possible. "As you can see, Kyla has almost finished her studies with Healer Corvay. Unlike most humans, she is extremely adept at reading auras, as well - that's how she knew you, Mage Mulder," said Pitir. It was also apparent that the little troll was thoroughly besotted with the apprentice healer. Mulder felt her mind in his - cool, professional, methodical, and reassuring. And not at all hard on the eyes, he thought. His reward was a startled glance from Kyla and a message from an amused Scully that said //I heard that, Mulder.\\ The two women's eyes met, sharing a moment of understanding, then Kyla continued her work. When she was done, she withdrew from his mind and spoke to Scully. "Your bondmate will be fine. He needs to take the restorative now and in the morning and to get a good night's sleep. I will see him tomorrow if he needs it, but I do not think that he will." She went to the fire to prepare the restorative, making one for Reinald as well. The two Mages choked down the medicine with similar grimaces under the amused looks of everyone else in the room. "Thank you, Kyla. Perhaps on your way back, you could show Shannon to her room," suggested Reinald. "Her servant should be there to explain where things are." Scully looked questioningly to Shannon. This had to be an unnerving experience for the girl who had already endured so much trauma in the last months. But she seemed to be taking everything in stride, and was certainly determined to make a good impression. "That's okay, Warrior Scully, I'm really tired," she said, standing. "Will I get to see Prince Andalor tomorrow?" "I don't see why not, my dear. Although tomorrow will be a very busy day for you as you start your life in the Realm," Reinald replied. "Ask Prilla for anything you may need. Sleep well." The girl accompanied Kyla to the door. "I really have my own servant? Cool!" The group clustered around the fire chuckled. To Mulder and Scully the Mage said, "I took the liberty of putting her reasonably near your room, just for now." Scully smiled, seeing her friends caught in the flickering glow of the fire. She felt like she was home, after a long, hard trip. "I'd love to stay up, but I am really exhausted myself, and I'd like to put Mulder to bed. We'll see you all in the morning. Reinald, where have you put Mulder and myself?" "Was there ever any question? You have your old room back, of course. Lita prepared it when she heard you were returning." She felt a wave of friendship and gratitude wash over her. "Thank you, Reinald," she said simply, and leaned over to kiss the Mage lightly on the head. "Come on, sleepyhead," she said to Mulder, hauling him to his feet. "Let's go." They leaned on each other much as they had the the first time they had taken this walk from Reinald's quarters to their room. Slowly walking down the stone hall, illuminated by torches which allowed only a hint of the magnificence of the tapestries decorating the walls, they were able to find their way without trouble. Finally Scully stopped by a huge door, pressed the latch and pushed it open. "Oh, Mulder!" she breathed. He roused himself to look around him. It was the same - everything was exactly the same. A fire blazed in the hearth, the low table nearby laden with teapot and cups and a small loaf of black bread. Against the wall was the substantial armoire, probably already stocked with Realm clothing in their sizes by a doting Lita. The reflection of the few torches that were lit flickered in the tall windows that perforated the wall across from where they were standing. And between them and that wall - the huge, high bed, swathed with opaque bedcurtains. He pulled her to him and knotted his hands together behind her back. "We owe Lita and Reinald big-time for this. I had hoped we would be in here, but I really didn't want to say anything since we're already presuming on their hospitality. In a way I feel like I've never been away. I need to use the facilities, such as they are - will you make tea?" She strolled down to the hearth and sat in one of the armchairs. Sniffing the steam from the teapot appreciatively, she poured out some of the soporific nighttime tea and cut a few slices of the hearty bread. Sitting back with her cup, she snuggled into the soft cushions and cast her eyes around the room. There was the refectory table where they had had their first breakfast in the Realm and had met the amazing Lita. In the corner was the huge copper tub, where Mulder had first grudgingly submitted himself to 'assisted bathing' and then later grew to look forward to the luxury and decadence of it. There, on the floor, where she had found Mulder semiconscious, writhing in agony and barely breathing after he had been poisoned. Scully shuddered at that memory, then scanned the room for more pleasant associations. There - the most pleasant association of them all. The bed where they had spent so many nights, at first on their own lonely side, and later, after their validation, when it had become the scene of so much passion. She stood as Mulder approached, smelling of the scented wash water which accentuated his own fragrance. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Oh, Mulder, I'm so glad we're back." "Me too, love." He broke the embrace regretfully and sank into the other chair. "I wish I were less wiped out, or I would do justice to the occasion - rise to it, as it were." She chuckled and handed him his teacup. "Don't worry about it - I'm half dead myself. But, God, it's good to be back. I'll wash up now and we can go to bed when you've finished your tea." She stopped by the tall armoire. Sure enough, Lita had filled it with clothing for every occasion. She chose a pale green silky nightshirt on her way into the small chamber. Mulder drained his cup, then wearily set it down on the table. Dragging himself to his feet, he separated the logs on the fire with a poker. He walked slowly back up the room, extinguishing torches as he went. Following his Realm habit, he stripped and carefully folded his clothes, placing them on a nearby chair. He plucked some shorts made out of a soft material from the armoire and put them on as Scully emerged. He joined her near the bed and boosted her onto its surface, some four feet above the floor. He stood there for just a moment, gazing at her face, his mind full - of memories and his love for her. Then he circled to the other side and boosted himself up, rolling over in the gargantuan bed until he came to rest in her arms. They were asleep in seconds. - - - - - The sun streamed through the tall windows as it had on that first morning so long ago. But unlike that first morning, Mulder and Scully had just enjoyed the pleasure of once again confirming their lifebond, and lay spent, relaxed and happy in each other's arms. He stroked her hair absently, getting as much comfort from the action as she did, and she snuggled into his chest. A soft tap sounded at the door. Once more they kissed, smiled and drew apart to pull their night clothes back on. A few seconds later, the door opened noiselessly and a tiny figure bearing an impossibly large tray entered the room and began to make its way down to the refectory table. "Lita!" Scully exclaimed joyfully, and she parted the curtains and jumped to the floor. The elf slid the tray onto the table and joined her in the middle of the room. Quickly she bobbed, then hugged Scully around the waist. "Oh, Warrior Scully, how I've missed you! I had half convinced myself that I would never see you again. Gods, but it has been boring since you left. Ah! Mage Mulder!" She flew at him, made her show of obeisance, then hugged him as well. Then she caught his hand and pulled him down the length of the room to the dining table. "Now sit and eat. Thank the gods, we have much more to offer you than the poor fare we had on your last visit." "Wait, Lita!" said Scully, laughing. "I have some presents for you and your children." "Later. First you eat. What kind of a job would I be doing caring for you if I didn't see you get a good breakfast first? I declare." She continued to grumble goodnaturedly as she began her tasks - heating the caudron for bathwater, straightening the covers of the huge bed, sweeping nonexistent dust from the floor. Mulder hungrily helped himself to the huge variety of breads, fruits and cheeses, noting as he did so that Lita had been correct - the spread set before them was considerably more than they had been accustomed to on their previous visit. There was even dried fish and dried meat. Scully ate lightly, preferring fruit and the yogurt-like substance she had come to crave while away from the Realm. "There, now that's better, isn't it?" said Lita, trimming the last of the torches as they sipped their tea. "Now I can bring you up to date on what's been going on. I'm only telling you because you two know that I don't gossip, but I do manage to find out a thing or two in the course of my work...." With that, she launched into a history of the events, trivial as well as momentous, which had transpired since their departure. Even Mulder's photographic memory would have been hard- pressed to do a better job. Almost an hour later, the tea had gone cold, the water in the cauldron bubbled and Lita had finally come to the end of her exhaustive recitation, leaving Mulder and Scully amused, bemused and scandalized. Quickly taking advantage of the little elf's momentary silence, Scully dug out the gifts she had brought for Lita and her family. The servant exclaimed over the edible delicacies and the lengths of fine patterned cloth and lace. For perhaps the first time in her life she was speechless and tears glittered in her eyes. "I thought you would have forgotten all about me," she said, gulping. "How could we forget all those times we spent in hot water - both in the bath and out of it," Mulder joked. Lita's laughter tinkled out merrily. "Aye, there's that. Well. I'll let you get yourselves ready for your day. Thank you Mage, Healer. If you need anything, just ask." -------------------------- End Chpt14 Part A -------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Fourteen Part B After checking on a still-slumbering Shannon, Mulder and Scully made their way to Reinald's quarters and knocked on the door. Pitir opened it to admit them into the company of the Mage and Prince Mavor. The elf prince had opted to stay at Fairwoods Keep until the coronation. Now he was giving Reinald, finally rested sufficiently after his ordeal in Mulder's world, an update regarding what had gone on in the Regent's absence. "Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully, how delightful to see you again," he said in his low musical voice. He smiled gently and shook his head a little, as he always did in their company. The lifebond so clearly imprinted on their auras never failed to mystify and awe him. When they had all settled with tea, Mavor's report continued. "The noble houses have been misbehaving a bit more than even I had anticipated. At first I thought it was merely the usual tricks they get up to, and a few new ones to make their feelings known about the Realm being left in the charge of a non-human. But I believe it's more than that." The ascetic- looking elf frowned. "There's something - a feeling, a sensation of some kind - of something going on. Most of the elves and other beings with high amounts of psi ability have sensed it. A restlessness, a tension in the air, rather like when a storm is building. And of an almost tangible darkness - just a little right now, but very gradually increasing. Those of us who are experiencing it do not care for the sensation one bit, I can assure you. We have had seven season-cycles of peace and rebuilding and increasing prosperity, but there are definitely clouds on the horizon, Reinald. You should be aware of them." Reinald grunted. "I'm sorry to hear you say this, with Andalor's coronation approaching. I would naturally wish for everyone in the Realm to be content and optimistic about the future. Can you be more specific about the trouble?" "The unrest caused by the noble houses while you were gone is only a symptom, although there has been increasing talk of a royal pardon for Drellor once Andalor ascends the throne. As you might expect, Dordinal is at the center of that, although the houses of Ranfaus and Maalfees would probably support such a campaign. It's hard to explain - the unrest was nastier than usual, more mean-spirited. But as to what is the driving force - " and the Prince shrugged. He was silent, trying to put feelings into words. "No, I'm sorry. It's just sensations right now - vague, nebulous. But let us talk of happier things. When is the coronation planned?" The date of the coronation had to be chosen with great care. Andalor was to reach his majority within this moon cycle. The coronation day must by tradition be the most auspicious day of the following moon cycle. It was a problem that Reinald and the other mages of the Realm had been working on for some time now, as the omens for the coronation moon cycle were troubling. There was no day on which the astral bodies were in precisely the correct position to guarantee a trouble-free reign. The last coronation day Reinald had planned, that of Andalor's father, had been similarly difficult, and King Barnus and his wife had been murdered. The Mage had no wish for history to repeat itself, and was putting in long hours to prevent it from happening. "We believe it will be the first quarter of the next moon cycle," said Reinald. "Ironically, your warning of potential problems is not news. We mages have been finding the same thing in our search for an auspicious coronation day. Although I wish with all my heart it were not so, I fear young Andalor may be tested during his reign." The elf's expression was sympathetic. "Well, there is one omen which is unmistakeably favorable - Mulder and Scully are once more amongst us" He stood to leave and the others stood as well. "Warrior Healer Scully, come visit me when you are able. I would like to speak to you regarding further developing you psi abilities." Scully nodded as she cringed inwardly, then joined the others in wishing him farewell. Her psi ability was still a sensitive issue with her. She had reconciled herself only with the greatest difficulty to her ability to psychically enter the mind and body of a paitent in order to heal. She even, occasionally and unconsciously, used her psi abilities. She had not however admitted to herself the high levels of ESP she appeared to possess, instead more comfortable attributing her prescience to 'woman's intuition' or educated guesswork. The talent was easier to ignore when she was not in the Realm. Here, she was bombarded with sensations and what seemed like mental gibberish constantly, often with little or no idea of their source. Mulder's voice cut into her musings. "We'd like to meet with you and Lita later today, Reinald. Shannon's future needs to be decided. I don't know for certain that she'll want to stay here, but I suspect she will, and she'll need something constructive to do with her time while she's here in any event." "We also need to determine her legal status," replied the Mage. "As Aldara mentioned a few days ago, as with everything else, there is a complex guardianship system here. Orphans simply don't exist normally. After the war with the Dark Realm we had our first experience in living memory with trying to care for children who had lost all of their close family. It took years to finally track down the distant relatives of these children and place them in their care. All children here have family, mostly because our families tend to be large. Children derive their legal status and class from that family. What of Shannon?" Scully thought for a moment, then said, "Her coloring and general build is much like Mulder's. Is there any way we could pass her off as his niece? In other words, could Mulder serve as her Taabsut?" Mulder appeared startled for a moment at the idea of suddenly becoming an uncle, then he, too, looked to Reinald for an answer. The Mage stroked his long face. "It's possible. Certainly Shannon would enjoy an exalted status and possibly even some protection as Mulder's halla - our word for ward." He narrowed his eyes as he thought. "Yes, it could work. If the aura is right." "Does the aura matter?" asked Scully. "Well, there is a certain 'family resemblance' to auras. It's much too vague for me to discern, but an adept like Lita would be able to tell - she can practically read a person's family tree in his aura." "In that case, it will have to wait for the aura reading," said Mulder. "And if it doesn't work, we'll move on to Plan B." //Which is?\\ //I don't know, I haven't made it up yet.\\ Scully stood. "I'm going to go see Aldara. Want to come?" "No, love, thanks, but I'd like to stay here with Reinald, start brushing up on my magic. The last trip all my magic had to be directed into the effort to destroy the creatures of the Dark Realm. I'd really like to learn some new things, fun things, spells not for destruction." They embraced minds, then Scully left for Aldara's cottage. The warrior saw her coming when she was still half- way across the courtyard, and came out to meet her. "Is Daanna here?" asked Scully. Aldara looked troubled. "Yes, she is. She's acting strangely, though." "Maybe she's just punishing you for being away," her friend suggested. "Maybe," Aldara said doubtfully. Scully entered the homey, familiar atmosphere of Aldara's cottage and was drawn instantly to the tiny child who was playing on the hearthrug. "Daanna, this is Warrior Healer Scully, and she's brought you a present. Can you say hello?" Scully found herself the focus of the child's gaze. Daanna's expression was grave, and her startling dark blue eyes were eons older than her four years. She nodded slightly as if coming to some kind of decision, then finally said "Hello, Warrior Healer Scully." She took the box from Scully and the women watched her open it. She smoothed her hand on the soft silky material of the dress, a little smile playing about her lips. Then she unwrapped the doll, tentatively touching its dark hair and then her own. "Thank you" she said, wide-eyed, and went back to playing on the rug, her new doll tucked in the safety of the crook of her arm. Aldara and Scully withdrew a little to the table and sat. "Is she always that quiet?" Aldara shook her head. "She's quieter than most children, she always has been, but since we got home, it's as if she's distracted or something. Lita said she was like this while she was taking care of her, but thought it was because we were gone." "I know this is an odd question, but does she have psi abilities?" Scully asked. "I know you said she has precognitive dreams, but is there anything else? I had the oddest sensation when she was looking at me, almost as if she could see into my mind or something." Her friend shrugged. "I don't know. Her powers puzzle the Mage and her aura sends poor Prince Mavor running to his books. I expect Lita is just used to it, or she would be as confounded as they are. We simply don't know. In some ways she's a normal little girl, but in others...." She looked over to her daughter, then back to Scully. "Dana - it's a terrible thing to say. But sometimes she scares me." - - - - - Scully followed the noise of the clashing of swords. A very nice elderly gargoyle had told her that the Prince and a lady stranger had passed this way to practice near the forge. She thought about her talk with Aldara. Although Scully had comforted her as best she could, attributing the child's odd affect to one of those childhood phases that kids are always going through, Aldara was obviously shaken. The sword master had always been uncomfortable with magic in any form. It was ironic in the extreme that it appeared her daughter was gifted with the very talent that had frightened and angered her all her life. The fact that Daanna's gifts were unique and unfathomable made the situation all that much more difficult. She stopped and viewed the scene from behind the shelter of a haystack. There was Andalor, laughing and looking incredibly handsome, holding his sword aloft and putting very little effort into fending off Shannon's unschooled blade. Finally Shannon screetched in frustration and threw her sword to the ground, sending Andalor into gales of laughter. "Don't let Aldara see you mistreat a weapon like that or you'll be mucking out stables for a week as punishment," Scully said, approaching the couple. Shannon bent to pick up the sword. "You sound like you know what you're talking about. Did she make you do that?" Scully smiled at the recollection. "Yes, she certainly did. About two weeks after I started training with her, I got frustrated and pitched a fit. I threw down my sword and screamed my head off at her. I called her every filthy name I could think of in New Realm, which I had begun learning by then. She just very calmly stood there and took it, then said that as long as I talked and acted like a stable boy, I could work with them for a week. There were no more tantrums after that." "She sounds tough." "You have no idea how tough she is," said Andalor. "But she is absolutely unbeatable when she has a sword in her hands, and there is not a better or fiercer warrior anywhere." "Did you really fight beside her against the Dark Creatures, Warrior Scully?" asked Shannon, wiping her blade as she saw Andalor doing. "Yes, but that story will have to wait for a while. We are due at Reinald's to see what you're destined to do in the Realm. Andalor, can you put away Shannon's sword?" He nodded. "See you tomorrow, Shannon" She turned and waved farewell, then strode by Scully's side. "Why does Lita get to decide what I'm going to do?" Scully patiently explained the relation between aura and vocation. "You see, this is a very structured society, Shannon. It's not a democracy and it's not a culture like the one you're used to. Here, everyone has a specific place in society, everyone has a job to do. It's almost like time- travelling back to medieval times, where if your father was a blacksmith, you had a better than average chance of being a blacksmith, too. Here, your class is determined by your family, not by each individual's efforts to get ahead. And your job is often determined by your aura, which shows where your inborn talents lie. Lita doesn't get to decide what you're going to do. She merely interprets your aura." "I think that's what makes me nervous. What if Lita says I don't have any talents?" Scully smiled and put a comforting arm around the teenager's shoulders. They stopped before Reinald's door and knocked. Pitir opened the door to show Mulder standing in mid-air and juggling balls of blue flame. He waved his hands, instantly making the flames disappear and slowly settled to the stone floor. "Cool!" Shannon breathed. "You really ARE a magician." Mulder chuckled. "There were times this afternoon when, despite my aura, Reinald might have disagreed with you." He pointed wryly to a pile of broken crockery and glass bottles. "I don't know my own strength," he explained to Scully. "I guess my magic developed muscles in our world. Shannon, go have a seat. Lita should be here soon. And don't look so nervous - everything is going to be fine." //Oh? And have you thought of Plan B yet?\\ //No, I'm heavily relying on Plan A to work.\\ He flashed her a boyish grin and as usual, her heart melted. Reinald entered his workroom from his bedchamber at the same time as Pitir opened the door to admit Lita and Tarnor. He stood still and frowned, waved his hands and one of the tapestries on the wall became two toned - black on the left side and white on the right. Then the entire company sat while tea was served. Lita was the first to speak. "Can this be...no, the age cannot be right," she said with a puzzled look. "Mage Mulder, I am an ignorant servant, knowing nothing of the flow of time in your world, but...can this child be yours and Scully's daughter? Child, go and stand against the black side of that tapestry." She peered intently at Shannon, then nodded. "Alright, now stand against the white side." She repeated her close inspection. "You may sit, child." She took a few moments to organize her thoughts, only too aware of the import of her findings. "Aye, I am ready. I thought she could be Mage Mulder's and Warrior Scully's daughter, because at first glance, her aura is very like what I would expect to see from their offspring. Shannon, you have a bright green aura, as green as Aldara's eyes. Your calling is definitely to be a warrior - even Aldara's aura isn't this strong. You have enormous potential." "Why did you question if I could be her father?" asked Mulder. "I have no warrior in my aura, apart from what I have gotten from Scully since our validation." "That is true," Lita replied. "But Shannon also has a slight tinge of mage blue at the edges of her aura. Unless I am mistaken - and I rarely am in this - it is derived from her father's side of the family. She does not have enough to become a mage, but there is definitely some talent there to be developed." Reinald looked at Lita gravely. "We must take you into our confidence, Lita. Shannon is an orphan with no living family at all. Mulder has agreed to act as her Taabsut, if her aura will pass muster. Is there any way that an adept, seeing her aura, could deny an uncle-niece relationship between Shannon and Mulder?" While Lita thought, Shannon's own mind was in a whirl. Her father, the mystery man she had never met, had given her some mage talents! And she was to be a warrior! She was full of misgivings. Maybe her aura said that she had talent, but she was doubtful. Sure, she would fight fiercely for her own life if she had to, and had several times in the near past. But that was a far cry from someone who lived and breathed tactics and strategy and weapons prowess, and who was ready to risk his or her life for the Realm. She just got here, she didn't even know if she was going to like the place. In any case, Shannon had never believed in anything strongly enough to be ready to die for it. Dimly she heard Lita's voice in the background and pulled herself back to what was going on. "...but I don't think that anyone could say for a fact that there was NOT a family relationship, judging by their auras and by the physical resemblance they have." Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. While he was not sure he was ready or qualified to be an uncle or a Taabsut, at least he did not now have to come up with Plan B. "Well, then, it looks like we're related, Shannon, although I think you're getting the bad end of the deal," he joked. He looked at her - pale, still, silent - and was shaken. "Shannon, I'm really not all that bad, I was just kidding. I'd be proud to have you as my halla." "You will enjoy great status as Mulder's halla, Shannon," said Reinald. "Mulder and Scully saved our world, and they are revered by our people. You will remain here at the castle and be treated as a member of the nobility, the niece of the Realm's savior." "I don't want to be a warrior." It came out in a small, tentative voice. Then louder, more determined. "I DON'T want to be a warrior. I've had enough in the last couple of weeks with fighting and running for my life to last a lifetime. I don't want to die for the Realm. I don't want to die at all." She looked at Mulder, tears filling her eyes. "I would love to have you as my uncle, and I'm sorry to embarrass you like this, but I just can't be a warrior, I just can't do it. I'm sorry." With that, the girl ran from the room. Mulder and Scully looked at each other aghast. "I'm so sorry," Scully blurted out, eyes on the floor. "I never thought that she'd have that reaction. I mean, I see that maybe we should have expected it - she's been so traumatized recently - but I didn't think...." She trailed off, embarrassed and torn between staying with the group and running to comfort Shannon. Mulder sat lost in misery, emitting waves of guilt. //For GOD'S sake Mulder, it is NOT your fault!\\ She shot him an exasperated glance. They finally pulled themselves together and looked at their friends. To their astonishment, the others were all smiling sympathetically. "Are you finished beating yourselves up now? Are you ready to listen to us explain a few things?" asked Tarnor, with a twinkle in his eye. "Actually, we must apologize. You are so much a part of the Realm that we forget sometimes that there are aspects of our culture that you have not seen before." "You see, Shannon's reaction is not unusual here," continued Reinald. "Aura readings are usually not performed until adolescence, with certain exceptions such as mage children and royals. Adolescents are unpredictable creatures, but one constant among them seems to be a hatred of being told what they must do." Lita took up the explanation. "I have done thousands of aura readings. Maybe half of the children I have read have reacted like Shannon. They all come around, in time, and so will she. It's in the aura," she said simply. "It is inescapable." Tarnor smiled. "Go to her now and assure her that no one will force her into anything. She will come in her own time to see that she has a calling." Seeing Scully start to rise, he said softly, "No, Scully - it is her Taabsut who must go." Mulder rose and left the room, accompanied by the kind thoughts of his friends and the love of his bondmate. //It might have been easier to devise Plan B, after all,\\ he thought, receiving Scully's warm, sympathetic chuckle in return. He tapped on Shannon's door, which was answered a few seconds later by Prilla. "She's very upset, Mage," the stocky troll said simply, and opened the door to admit him. "Thank you, Prilla, you may leave us." Shannon had thrown herself across her bed and was sobbing. Mulder made no effort to approach her, merely sat at her hearth and gazed into the fire until the sobbing stopped. He heard the squeak of bedsprings which told him she had gotten off the bed and was making her way down to him. "I'm sorry." "Why? You have nothing to be sorry for." "Yes, I do. I embarrassed you and Scully and myself. I probably sounded like a spoiled little brat. You guys have done everything for me - saved my life and helped with...with the arrangements for Mom and brought me here with you and everything. And then I go and throw a major fit like that." "No one holds that against you, Shannon," Mulder said softly. "Maybe we tried to rush things too much. But getting your legal status squared away is of utmost importance here, and your aura had to be read to make sure I could serve as your Taabsut. We probably should have left the details of your vocation until later." They were silent for quite a long time. Mulder sensed, whether through his mage abilities or his psychology training, that there was something else she needed to say, and he was willing to wait as long as necessary for it. He stared into the fire, thinking of himself when he was Shannon's age, the traumas that he had sustained by that time, the trauma of merely being a teenager. It also came to him that this girl, with her long dark hair and honey eyes, was not so different from what his sister Samantha might have been like, if he had been fortunate enough to know her at this age. Finally, she sniffed a little, and he came out of his reverie. The tears had started again, slow, barely noticed. "I'm so afraid." She slid out of her chair to sit on the hearthrug with her head on his knee. He smoothed her hair and didn't say anything for a long time. "I'm not going to tell you that there's nothing to be afraid of, Shannon. I have much more respect for your intelligence than that. You are in a new and in many ways, very strange land. You have just gone through terrible things that no one should have to go through. You don't know what's ahead. Hell, I think you'd be a little crazy if you weren't afraid." She giggled a bit at that. He smiled and resumed stroking her hair. "No one's going to force you into anything. You will make your own decision about what you will do for your lifework. You're just not ready yet. You have a lot of learning to do about the Realm. Just take things one day at a time and it will all work out, I promise you. If you have a problem, talk to somebody. The Professor will probably stay here the rest of his life. I'm sure he will always be a sympathetic ear for you, Shannon - he loved your mother very much. And for a while, Scully and I will both be here. You know I'll always be ready to listen. And I can't tell you how incredible Scully is. She's listened to me until anyone else in the world would have throttled me just to shut me up, yet she keeps coming back for more." "But you and Scully aren't going to stay." Mulder chuckled. "Shannon, we will be here for at least the equivalent of a week in our world's time. You could be married with children of your own by the time we leave, in Realm time." She blushed and laughed out loud at that thought. She looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes. "Do you really think so?" He smoothed back her dark hair from her face. "Yes, I do. And you could also be a great warrior, or artisan or whatever else you chose to be. There's plenty of time. It will all happen when it's supposed to happen. Okay?" "Okay. Thanks, Mulder. Or should I call you Tasbutt, tats... what's that word?" "Taabsut. It means guardian. I don't know, it's probably expected that you call me that, but just call me what you're comfortable with." "Thanks, Taabsut." He smiled. //Maybe Plan B wouldn't have worked out so well, after all.\\ ---------------------------- End Chpt 14 Part B ---------------------------- =========================================================================== Chapter Fourteen Part C The next three weeks passed swiftly. Mulder continued to work with both Tarnor and Reinald in further developing his magic. With his eidetic memory, learning the spells was not a problem. The precise vocal inflection of the Old Realm language of the spells and the required hand positions were more of a challenge. He finished each day exhausted from the concentration he had expended. Scully had met with Corvay the day after her arrival. Though somewhat dismayed by the changes that time had made on the old elf, she found his mind as sharp and irreverent as it had always been. He was curious about and somewhat appalled by most of the instruments she had brought for him. He did see the usefulness of the stethoscope, however, and after Scully had taught him and Kyla what to do with it, he started using it in his practice. He had Reinald cast him a language spell so that he could read the texts she had brought, usually shaking his head in horror at the 'wonders' of modern medicine, but occasionally jotting down a note. Mornings, she worked side by side with Kyla, brushing up on her healing skills and making house calls for sick trolls, elves, gargoyles and humans. In the afternoons, Scully joined Aldara on the practice fields. The first week she thought she had made a terrible mistake. How could the results of all that hard training that she had gained in her first visit to the Realm have disappeared already? Every day of the first seven Scully dragged herself back to the room to soak in a hot tub and later to be treated to one of Mulder's incredible massages. But she persevered and now was almost back to the level of performance she had previously attained. On occasion, she was joined by Mulder or Shannon. Almost no direction had been given the teenager, everyone preferring to let her seek what interested her and try everything until she felt comfortable in this world. The one exception had been in language training. Tarnor had removed Reinald's language spell and substituted one of his own making, which gradually omitted the translation of key words. This would provide the motivation for Shannon to learn New Realm as quickly as possible. She had also been assigned to one of the court scribes who was giving her language lessons each morning. She was progressing far more quickly than anyone had thought possible. In the afternoons Shannon sometimes drilled lightly with Scully and Aldara. Other times she would walk in the environs of the castle, learning the similarities and the differences of this new world. On Market Day she had spent the afternoon going from stall to stall, looking over the merchandise, trying the delicacies, and talking to others of her age but not necessarily her species. She even managed to purchase some cloth for the Coronation Ball gown that Lita had promised to make for her. Lita told her later that she had bargained as skillfully as an elf, no mean feat. No one saw much of Andalor these days. Shortly after their arrival back at the Realm, he entered a special cottage on the grounds of the Keep. By tradition, a Prince entered the dwelling just before his coronation and spent his days in study, solitude and contemplation of the weighty tasks which he was about to undertake. Only Reinald was allowed to visit him, and then only infrequently. Dorbo brought him food and other necessities, and Corvay checked on him as often as tradition allowed to ensure his health. He would not be seen by any of his other subjects until the day of the coronation. That day was fast approaching. The Demesne of Fairwoods Keep swelled until it seemed that it could not hold another person, and still they kept coming. The influx of visitors made that of Reinald's trial seem petty by comparison. Thousands arrived every day from every corner of this world, not just the Realm. Mulder and Scully, even the Professor, were stunned by the many examples of being that crowded every inn and camped on every piece of bare ground within a day's walk of the castle. There were a few types of being that even the well- travelled Jourdain had never before come across, though he had heard stories of them. "Ah, yes - those are the Gifralian Cat People. I had thought them to be myth, but surely they can be no other. It is said that they are superb tacticians and have never been bested in battle. And those beings over there - Albino Pigmen. See the snout-like shape to their noses? They are totally blind, and no one is sure how they get around, but their sense of direction is flawless. Incredible - I never thought I would see one, let alone the entire ruling clan." The day of the coronation dawned cool and clear. Every servant had been up all night, scrubbing, cleaning, cooking and decorating for the festivities of the day. In the Great Hall, the stands had been erected to hold all but the most highly born visitor. Those lucky few would sit in the concentric rings of chairs on the floor of the Hall with the heads of the noble houses, the high priests and priestesses, and the representatives of the elves, trolls and gargoyles. The throng of artisans, traders, farmers and merchants would have to be content to steal a glimpse of their new King outside when he waved to them from the balustrade high above them at the conclusion of the ceremony. Finally, the Great Processional was sounded by trumpet-like instruments, and the march into the Hall commenced. Warriors with shining armor followed priestesses with long flowing robes in exotic colors. Ambassadors from every kingdom in the world were there in styles and colors that made the onlookers dizzy. Nobles followed princes, and princes followed kings. The long line slowly fed itself through the huge oak and iron doors of the Great Hall until it seemed that surely not another one could fit. But next, the mages who would be instrumental in the ceremony to come filed in, the deep blue of their robes like a quiet undulating sea. And behind them, the guests that the King-to-be had personally invited to witness his coronation. It was in this group that Mulder and Scully found themselves, surrounded by their friends. Shannon had been particularly pleased. Since she had had little contact with Andalor, she assumed that he had forgotten about her. Or, she had thought darkly, perhaps he remembered a bit too much about how she had teased him about his claims to royalty. Now she stood in a plain white satin sheath dress girded with gilt cords as befitted her station and age, her hair done up in a fantastic elaborate design, trembling with excitement. Mulder stood quietly next to her, wearing his mage robe proudly. On his other side, Scully wore gleaming armor, a hood of green covering her russet hair and a cloak of brown flowing from her shoulders, to show her unique dual status. Indeed, Mulder and Scully were the focal points of attention. There were thousands in the building who had never seen the pair from the faraway land - the Mage and his bondmate who had done so much to save the Realm, and perhaps their whole world, from the Dark Creatures. Necks craned and beings jostled for position to catch a glimpse of the pair. A new fanfare sounded, and an expectant hush fell over the crowd. A solitary figure dressed in the plainest of garb walked determinedly down the center of the Great Hall. Those seated stood as he passed. He stopped at the end of the Hall in the middle of the rings of chairs where the Great Throne of the Realm sat on a dais, and turned to the throng. Speaking Old Realm in a clear, strong voice, the blond young man chanted his line of succession, his credentials for ascending the throne. The chanting went on for almost a candlemark, but the voice never faltered, never stumbled. Mulder chanced a quick look at Reinald, who seemed so proud of the boy that he would burst. Next, the priests and mages took up the chant, and a kind of antiphon and response took place, with Andalor following the lead of the others. Finally, the group ascended the steps to the dais and all gathered around the young man. They completely obscured him from view as some frenzied activity took place in the center of the group. Then, they all dropped back, leaving only one figure on the platform. Andalor stood tall in finely embroidered white silk, encrusted with gems of every description and shot through with golden threads. A dark red cloak hung from his shoulders. On a nearby stand lay the Scepter and the Crown of the Realm. It seemed as if the onlookers held their collective breaths. Slowly, Reinald approached the young man and stood facing him on the dais. The two then took up the Old Realm chant for a minute or two, as the exchange of power from the Regent to the young man took place. There was a drumroll, and Reinald picked up the Crown. Facing the congregation, he said a few words, then placed the Crown on Andalor's head. He led Andalor to the throne and the young man sat, his expression calm, serious. Last, the Mage thrust the Scepter in the young King's hand. Instantly, the Hall erupted with cheering. A trace of a smile touched the corners of the new King's mouth and he looked almost startled at the reaction his crowning had initiated. He glanced over to where his friends were also standing and cheering, and rolled his eyes a little, which sent Shannon off into a fit of the giggles. Finally after many minutes, the crowd settled down and the new King stood. "You have been many years without a King, some of those years marked by the greatest hardship and devastation our Realm has ever known. Yet you have waited patiently for me to grow up, to learn how to be a good King. I will try with every breath to prove to you that you have not misplaced your trust, that your patience has been rewarded." Wild cheering broke out again, and the King waited for it to stop. "There are people I must thank. Without them perhaps none of us would be here today. I know most certainly that I would not," the King said with a rueful smile. "I have a more suitable way to show my thanks to some of them later at the Ball. For now, I will say only that this Realm owes a debt it cannot possibly repay to Captain of the Guards Jourdain, SwordMaster Aldara, Mage Mulder, WarriorHealer Scully, Mage Tarnor, and most of all, my Regent and friend Mage Reinald." Once more cheering broke out, noticeably more restrained among the members of the noble houses. When it had died down, the King once more began to chant in Old Realm for several minutes. Then, to drums and trumpets, he was led by the mages and priests up to the balustrade where he waved to the huge crowd assembled outside. The muffled cheers and cries of the thousands who had patiently waited outside during the ceremony sounded like a roar to those in the Great Hall. Finally, the King was led off by the Masters of Protocol to another enclosed part of the Hall. There he would perform certain ceremonial duties with the heads of the noble houses, representatives of the other species and visiting ambassadors. Everyone else began to file out of the Great Hall in no particular order. "What happens now?" asked Scully. "For us, nothing," replied Reinald. "The King will be busy from now until the time of the Ball with all sorts of things, but we are free. I strongly suggest that you get something to eat and then rest for the remainder of the day. The Ball will go on all night, and you won't want to miss a minute of it." "Sounds like a plan," said Mulder. "Milady?" and he offered his arm to Scully who took it with a smile. They walked slowly back to their room, relishing the festival-like atmosphere that had taken over the castle. Opening the door, they found that Lita, as usual, had anticipated their needs and a light meal of bread, soup and fruit had been laid out on the large refectory table. Mulder removed his robe, then helped Scully out of the armor that was invaluable on the field of combat but rather inconvenient elsewhere, and they ate. Lita came in to clear away the lunch things and get a full report of the morning's ceremony. Then the little elf bustled out, intent upon the many things she had to do that day. "Well, what would you like to do now?" Scully smiled, knowing perfectly well. Mulder returned her smile and took her hand to help her out of her chair. He pulled her to him and covered her lips with his own softly at first, then with increasing heat, his hands curving over her buttocks. //Was that a clue, Agent Mulder?\\ - - - - - Scully viewed herself critically in the looking glass. Usually the least fussy of women when it came to dressing, she wanted to look special tonight. Lita had certainly outdone herself with the dress. Scully smoothed the dark green silk that had been liberally embroidered in fantastic patterns with golden thread and turned once again to view it from every angle. "Gorgeous." Mulder leaned against the wall with his arms folded, his white silk shirt embroidered with dark mage blue. He wore the flowing shirt belted over dark blue leggings and high black boots and covered by a short dark blue silk tunic. "And you can read my mind, so you know I'm telling you the truth." His dark hazel eyes twinkled. "Come on, let's go pick up Shannon." Shannon was once again in white, which was traditional for unwed girls of marrying age in the Realm. This dress was made of yards and yards of white silk but was almost austere in design, perfectly showcasing the girl's height, slender figure and elaborately dressed raven hair. The waistline of the dress was girded with dark green cords, a concession to her aura. "Ready?" asked Mulder and offered her his free arm. She took it happily. Mulder could see she was a bit nervous. He leaned down and whispered, "Relax - you're beautiful" and received the teenager's grateful smile in return. He guided the women on the longish walk from their quarters back to the Great Hall, the only room large enough for the gathering. An army of servants had transformed it from the flag bedecked utilitarian hall of the morning to a glittering, candlelit paradise. Tables bent under the weight of food, the court musicians never stopped the flow of beautiful, slightly exotic music, and the crowd! Women gorgeously dressed and covered with jewels, their partners looking darkly handsome in the colors of their houses or auras, the strange costumes and national dress of some of the visitors, the sea of hues and patterns that made the eyes reel. Mulder assisted his companions with drinks and they stood peering around for familiar faces. Shannon looked anxious, Scully noted sympathetically. The teenage fear of being unpopular was written all over the girl's face, only to clear a few seconds later when Andalor approached the group. Mulder bowed and the women dropped into deep curtseys. Andalor dismissed all the pomp with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, thanks, but that makes me a little uncomfortable, you know? I mean, that's fine for people I don't know, but it feels a little silly with you. I've been waiting for you to arrive. Shannon, would you like to dance?" Shyly, the girl nodded and took the King's proffered hand. He led her onto the dance floor where room was instantly made for the young couple. There were approving glances from the adults and envious looks from the many young ladies dressed in white scattered throughout the throng. "Where have you been?" Aldara demanded. She too was in dark green, a very simply cut gown that Scully could have sworn was a knock-off of a gorgeous Oscar de la Renta they had seen while shopping in Neiman Marcus. The two women's eyes met and they began to giggle. Beside her, Daanna was dressed in her long rose dress with the white lacy pinafore, and held her doll. The child smiled up at them. "Are you enjoying the party, Daanna?" Scully asked. Wordlessly, the child nodded, shaking her black curls vigorously. "Would you show me where the best things to eat are?" The little girl smiled and took Scully's hand, leading her over to the tables, her parents and Mulder following. Hours of eating and dancing, conversation and laughter passed like in a dream. They were all a little startled when the music stopped and they heard Andalor's voice calling for Mulder, Scully and Reinald to join him on the dais. Looking at each other with puzzled expressions, the couple and the old Mage made their way to the far end of the Great Hall. "I said this morning that I would find a more suitable way of thanking some of the people to whom I and the Realm owe so much. Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully. Your services to the Realm can never be repaid, but as a small token of our gratitude for your courage and your friendship, it gives me great personal pleasure to present you with these rings." He smiled, whispering in a low voice for their ears only, "Sorry - I brought them to your world but forgot to give them to you there." He slid the gold ring with the mage blue glittering stone onto Mulder's right ring finger, and the green and brown catseye ring onto Scully's. "These stones are imparted with magical powers for the wearers only. May our friends always keep the Realm in their hearts as we hold them in ours." There was an avalanche of applause as Scully broke at least ten rules of protocol by hugging and kissing the young King and Mulder embraced him warmly. When the applause died down a few minutes later, King Andalor continued. "Mage Reinald, you have steered the Realm through its darkest days at great personal sacrifice. From the time of my father's murder, you have cared for me, taught me and guided the Realm with no thought to personal gain. During that time, you were put on trial for your life by those who would have used the Regency for their own designs." There was an undercurrent of grumbling among the nobles of the three houses, which the King silenced with a glare. "The Mage would be proud at the amount of research into the Realm's history I had to do to come up with a suitable gift for him." "Long ago in the story of the Realm, the person who demonstrated uncommon sacrifice in the interests of the Realm and its King was given a special honor. So special was this honor that sometimes a hundred season-cycles or more would pass before a candidate was deemed worthy of it." Reinald gasped. "Oh, Andalor, no. Not -" Andalor silenced him with a smile. "Mage Reinald has more than earned this honor - by his faithful guidance of the Realm, his part in the defeat of the creatures of the Dark Realm, his part in finding a way to rid me of the spell cast on me when I was a child, and numerous other - more recent - services. Mage Reinald, I invest you with the Order Royal of the Realm. Please kneel before me." Trembling, the Mage knelt before his beloved Andalor with bowed head. The young King held aloft a chain of white gold from which hung a large carved medallion of yellow gold. "It took quite a bit of research, but this, the original Medallion of the Order Royal, was finally found after years of searching, on the ancient Isle of Greyfalk. It gives me the greatest pleasure to confer on Mage Reinald the Order Royal of the Realm." King Andalor lowered the medallion around the neck of his friend, his teacher. He assisted Reinald to stand and enveloped him in a embrace. "Thank you, Reinald," he whispered. The Great Hall reverberated with thunderous applause. Even the members of the noble houses decided that it would be politically advantageous of them to join in. There was more than one person on the dais and on the floor of the Great Hall surrepticiously wiping tears from their eyes. When the applause had died down and those on the dais were again able to speak, the King turned to the gathering. "As you celebrate this occasion, celebrate also the heroes of our Realm. Cherish their place amongst us, as I do." He gave a small signal, and the court musicians once again struck up the music for a lively dance. The crowd began to melt away, to dance, to eat, to chat among friends. "Andalor, the rings are beautiful," said Scully. "Thank you so much." "Ah, but it is up to you two to discover how to use them," laughed Andalor. "The stones are reputed to be very powerful, but the secret to unlocking their powers has been lost for centuries." "Even if we never unlock their powers, it was a very thoughtful gift, Andalor," replied Mulder. The young King smiled. Reinald was still too touched to trust himself to speak, gazing down at the medallion and stroking the ancient carving. "Shannon - will you do me the honor?" asked Andalor. Glowing, the girl took his arm and allowed herself to be guided out onto the dance floor. Jourdain and Aldara, Mulder and Scully soon joined them, leaving Tarnor and Reinald sitting and enjoying the scene around them. Off in the far corner of the room, almost unnoticed, a tiny child in a lacy pinafore and a long rose dress stood with her back to the revellers, gazing out a small arrow slit into the night sky. Her doll was hugged tight to her chest, her fists clenched. "No." Her mage blue eyes filled with tears of anger, defiance. And fear. "No!" The End -------------------------------------------------------------------------- JennyAnn@ix.netcom.com X-Phile - True Believer "Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of humiliation." Fox Mulder GO DOLPHINS! -------------------------------------------------------------------------- THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner belong to Chris Carter, FOX Network, and Ten Thirteen Productions. The Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996 - Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstafe. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: This story is a sequel to our previous stories, "The Magician" and "The Runaway", and constitutes Book Three of a trilogy. This story begins where the second book leaves off - with Mulder and Scully in the Realm. The first two stories of the trilogy are available from this web page, and also from the X-Files archive sites on the web. We would strongly recommend you read the first two books before this one. Finally, we owe a huge debt of gratitude to our patient editor, Debbie Hewett, for all of her hard work; and also to Nicole Perry for her conscientious beta reading and helpful suggestions. Now...sit back, relax, and enjoy.... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prologue Long fingers closed around the murky edges of the floating ball of black iron. The sphere gave off rays of liquid darkness which ate up the few strands of light that dared to peek into the edges of the room. The Black Mage, face shadowed by a heavy cowl of ebony silk, gave a hauntingly beautiful smile. Red lips drew back over clear white enamel, as the power of the sphere grew and concentrated, soon enveloping the entire room in a sea of darkness. Only the one figure stood, tall and strong, concealed by the heavy robe. Embroidered swirls of red livid against the night echoed the sheen of red within the once clear blue eyes. The garnet lips closed tightly, a gentle hiss emanating from within, whistling through to fill the air with an incessant hum. In response, the globe spun harder...faster...strobing the room in multiple shades of black, layer upon layer, until the voice rose to a peak, then swung low and cut off - sharp, imperative, demanding. And clear, within the center of the globe, a faint glow of light grew and sharpened, clarifying the energy into a focused mental image of a stocky, haggard man. The remnants of once fine robes were now dusty and stained, ripped and poorly mended. The once pudgy face was now almost thin, making the narrow eyes seem even smaller, lost within a roll of skin, hanging loose without the thick padding of fat that had once supported it. Closing reddened eyes, the Mage concentrated once again, chanting words in a language long unused, known only by a rare few. The voice spoke in words of power, words that lived, words that were mired in blood. - - - - - The man in the cell blinked as a sense of unease slowly crept over him. Lifting his head from his chest, he peered around him anxiously, then wriggled as though a thousand insects were crawling over his skin. "Who's there?" he whined. There was no answer, except for the rustle of rats, scraping across the dungeon floor. - - - - - The Black Mage entered the final refrain of the spell with terse control. Again the chant rose high, beckoning, seeking... and at last, commanding. In the images forged from the spinning globe, the shape of the man jumped up to its feet, then threw its head back and screamed. The sound was whisked away into the wind, as his body shimmered in a coat of darkness, then was gone... only to reappear encased in a flood of oily darkness... falling to the floor of the Mage's sanctum to lay gasping, convulsing, like a beached whale upon the sand. With a sharp gesture of the left hand, the Black Mage set the spinning globe back down onto its stand and turned to look disdainfully down at the man sprawled across the frigid stone. Once the beady eyes turned upward, dilating in the shock of horrified recognition, a rich velvety voice filled the room... "Welcome, Prince Drellor. Welcome...." End Prologue THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter One The edges of the dark blue Mage's cloak swirled around his lean calves as he leapt up the castle stairway. Fox Mulder took two steps at a time in quick hops, his face intent despite the gentle upward curl of his lips. That delicate smile played at the edges of his eyes, softening his sharp-boned features, bringing a sparkle to his hazel eyes. His mind, always focused, was now busily dissecting the words of the spell chant he had been struggling with for the past few days. He almost had it working, but there was one small element missing, the one ingredient necessary to keep the spell from spinning out of control. No one could call this particular piece of magic important or even interesting, but his motivation was less the desire for the result of the spell itself as it was to prove to himself that he could make it work. Copying other Mages' spells was easy, for he had power to spare and memory that functioned like an iron trap. However, as he was presently discovering, the process of creating a new spell was a far more difficult task. But it was one he was bound and determined to conquer, and he was so close.... A blast of cold air struck him, and he staggered to a stop, his right hand blindly grabbing for the wide wooden banister to keep from falling. His head lifted up, then jerked around, his eyes scanning the air around him. His eyes focused, then glazed over, and he stood as still as a statue. His aura blazed into the dim light, throwing a bright blue gleam over the stone walls, then faded. His eyes closed, he leaned back against the wall, pressing himself against the solid support. The backs of his hands pressed up against his chest, fingers outstretched, almost as though warding off an unseen enemy. And he shivered. - - - - - By the time Mulder found his way to the dungeon buried deep in the earth beneath Fairwood Castle, pandemonium had broken loose. There were few prisoners kept here for any length of time, as Realm-style justice tended to be swift and practical. At present there were less than half a dozen, and they were all engaged in making a loud ruckus, clanking chains, screaming and howling, banging against the stone walls. Green-clothed guards were rushing to and fro, giving the appearance of determined action, yet seeming to accomplish very little at all. In the midst of the furor, the big, gray-haired Captain of the Royal Guard stood like a rock, forcing the sea of activity to web and weave around him. "Jourdain?" Mulder asked, easily pushing his way through to stand at his friend's side. "What's going on? I felt..." He broke off, unable to describe the feeling that had stopped him in his tracks. It was as though some kind of slug or worm had crawled across the surface of his brain, leaving behind a trail of evil-smelling sludge that he had finally tracked to this spot. Jourdain turned and acknowledged Mulder's presence, then inclined his head towards the cell in front of him. "Drellor's missing. Disappeared from behind a locked door. One minute he was there, the next he was gone." "Gone?!" Mulder echoed sharply, moving closer to the heavy iron door separating them from the small enclosure. A shock ran through his fingers as they brushed the thick, cold metal, and he jerked backwards. "Are you all right?" Jourdain asked anxiously, his craggy face grim in the shadows. Mulder nodded. "Magic was involved here, but it's a kind I've never felt before. It feels ... wrong." His mouth tightened into a thin line and he found himself shivering again, even with the wool cloak wrapped tightly around his body. "Better get Reinald down here quickly..." "I'm here." A shock of white hair glowed above the Royal Mage's gaunt blue-clad frame. Perhaps less vigorous than he had been in his youth, he still radiated a fierce presence, part magical strength and part simply force of personality. Nodding at his two companions, he stepped forward and pushed the door open. Like Mulder, his fingers recoiled briefly from the contact, and he wiped them against his cloak as though he had touched some kind of filth. Reinald walked briskly into the small cell, then waved at Mulder to follow him. The younger man stepped across the threshold, his shoulders held back, his face holding a pinched look. The psychic sense of this place reminded him vividly of the New Jersey sewer he'd once been unfortunate enough to explore, making him feel as though he were steeped in filth. Behind them, Jourdain's frown deepened. It did not take much guesswork to realize why the two Mages were acting the way they did. Even to those with little magical sense, there could be no question as to the cause of the prisoner's escape - black magic. - - - - - Jourdain was the last to enter the Council chamber. Easing his bulk into the awaiting chair, he nodded at the young King, then glanced over at the two Mages sitting side-by-side along the wall. Reinald held himself upright and at attention, Mulder was slumped across his chair, long legs sprawled out at apparently awkward angles. But Jourdain knew from long experience that the long- limbed body could move with deceptive speed while the sleepy- looking eyes could burn with frightening intensity once they were aroused. Mulder returned Jourdain's glance, a slight shift of his position the only indication of recognition, then he let his eyes wander around the room. Light filtered in from small windows set high in the massive stone walls. Bright tapestries draped the cool walls with warmth, bringing alive majestic scenes of the Realm's history. The center of the room was dominated by a large, oval- shaped table, one point held by the slender, alert form of the young, fair-haired king, the other by the white-gowned form of the Realm's high priestess. Mulder still had not quite gotten the Realm's religions straightened out - there were gods for practically everything, and each species had its rites and practices. Yet, much like the Judeo- Christian God of Mulder's upbringing - above all the minor deities was the one God - Goddess actually. The New Realm's chief deity had a distinctly female sense to it, and was seen as a creative source, a Mother to all life. As best as Mulder could make out, it had some similarities to much older human beliefs than the patriarchal Judeo- Christian tradition, more reminiscent of modern-day Wicca - yet with a unique flavor all its own. Mulder's eyes paused on the serene, matronly figure of the priestess, then reluctantly moved on to the representatives of the six Noble Houses, each of whom was dressed in the bright colors of his House. They were seated along one length of a long table, their positions relative to each other a sign of who was presently allied with, or feuding with whom. For now, the white-haired elder of Norwood sat aloof on the end, while Dordinal and Maalfees bent their heads together, whispering urgently. His generous lips pursed thoughtfully, Mulder considered Marvick of House Dordinal. The man was thick and stout, with a wide belly and tree-stump legs, but the plainness of his exterior disguised a clever mind and a fiery temperament. Like all of his House, Marvick was known to fly into violent rages when his will was thwarted, and that happened far too often. In fact, Mulder was convinced that the householder's histrionics were staged and delivered for maximal benefit to his House. Past the pasty figure of Horvay of Maalfees, Mandor of House Ranfaus was sitting quietly, his calm gray eyes making a circuit of the room. They focused in on Mulder, held the Mage's bright hazel gaze for a moment, then with a barely perceptible nod, moved on. Much to his surprise, Mulder had found himself growing to like the Ranfaus householder more and more over the past few moon-cycles. He was invariable conservative, reluctant to risk action unless no other alternative presented itself, but he was a staunch solid rock supporting the throne. And right now, Andalor could use all the support he could get. Mulder sighed under his breath as his eyes moved on to the final pair of householders, Ian of Forst and Linder of the Highlands. Both were engaged in a hostile staring contest with the gargoyle and troll representatives, respectively. The elven representative, Karvan, whom Mulder remembered as a blazing fury in the battle against the Dark Creatures, was now a calm mature presence, even though he seemed not to have aged physically. Instead the maturation was within, expressing itself in the elf's bearing and manner, in the elegant measured speech and the brilliant green eyes. Presently, though, even Karvan's composure was showing cracks, the fiery elven temper leaking through in rare, but extreme flashes of vituperative emotion. Mulder frowned, his worry deepening. Until recently, he had been deeply impressed with the peaceful coexistence between the four sentient species in this world, his own world suffering in the comparison. But as he rather cynically recognized, human beings were human beings, and they tend to have an inbred distrust of differences. But then, the tide of unrest and bad feelings that were erupting throughout the Realm were not solely a human invention. More than one incident had occurred between the other three species as well. Something was wrong, and this morning's events only confirmed Mulder's suspicions that a deliberate agency was behind the growing tensions. But the incidents were widespread and isolated from each other, the feelings of uneasiness too vague to pinpoint a single cause. It was no more than a well-developed sense of intuition that made Mulder suspicious, and so he held it to himself. Almost to himself... He instinctively felt for Scully's presence through the taut line of their life-bond, reveling in the sensation of her mind close to his, focused and intent. Closing his eyes, he could see through hers, and rather than the ornately decorated Council chamber, he saw brown earth and sunlight glinting off a silver blade. His hands jerked in sympathy as she brought the heavy weapon up and around, the shock of the contact with her student's weapon reverberating up through her arms and shoulders, and his as well. Then he shared her quick rush of pleasure and pride, then a returning cold focus, as she bent her mind and body to the task at hand. Had she noticed he was there in her mind? Maybe, it hardly mattered. They were linked so deeply that sometimes it seemed as though they shared every breath, every heartbeat. Two halves of a whole, and neither one complete without the other. A sudden need to be with her physically, to wrap his arms around her body and taste her, flooded him. Only Reinald's restraining hand on his arm stopped him from running from the room. Taking a deep breath, he subsided, giving the older Mage a nod that said "I'm okay," even as he fought for his equilibrium. Luckily, everyone else was focused on Jourdain as he began his report, causing Mulder to breathe a sigh of relief. He tended to be irreverent of protocol, but the last thing Andalor needed right now was Mulder rushing blindly out of the room in mid-session like some love-sick calf. Leaning back into the padded chair, Mulder drew one long leg against the other, then pivoted his head to the left as he recorded Jourdain's brusque, but informative speech. The facts were few, yet more than enough to send a cold blast of air into the brightly lit room. Drellor had been seen in his cell by a guard only moments before he had disappeared. The guard had only gotten a few feet down the corridor after delivering the morning meal, when there was a sudden loud noise from the former prince's room followed by a scream of utter terror from its inhabitant. The guard had turned and ran back, only to find the small, locked enclosure empty and the echo of a horrified cry lingering in the air. The traitorous prince was gone, vanished seemingly into thin air, leaving behind no more than a spilled tray of food and a magical sense that "something wicked this way came." That was the best Mulder could do to identify the ambiance within that room. Even now, the memory of that pervasive psychic stench made him wish for a way to scrub out the inside of his mind and soul. There was a moment of silence when Jourdain was done, then an abrupt explosion of conversation, several people yelling at once. "Silence!" Andalor insisted. The two nearest him shut their mouths, but Dordinal, Maalfees, and Forst had only just gotten started, and they raged on as though the young king had not spoken. So Andalor spoke the single word once more, but this time it rang through the room like the chime of a bell - echoing off the walls. "Silence!" Heads turned. Jourdain and Reinald's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise, appreciation, and a touch of nostalgia. Mulder's lips curved up in a wry smile, the non-human representatives nodded among themselves. Among the human representatives, everyone but Dordinal stuttered to a stop, leaving Marvick's thick voice to ring out in mid-sentence. "Drellor..." "Drellor was a traitor to the Realm." Andalor cut him off neatly, finally forcing Marvick to swallow hard and shut his mouth as he turned to face the king's deep violet gaze. "Whether he engineered his escape or was taken against his will, this can only mean danger to the Realm." "All evidence suggests that he was abducted." Jourdain offered, his craggy features solemn. "A man who is escaping prison doesn't scream loudly for help." Andalor nodded. "Then we must assume he was taken by someone who wishes to use his knowledge of the Realm against us." "Perhaps it was someone who felt that a Prince of the Realm deserved better treatment than a common criminal." Marvick was almost petulant in expressing a view he had been consistent on for the past seven years. Drellor had been a childhood friend, and Marvick refused to accept his old comrade's guilt, regardless of the evidence. Andalor's face was cold and certain as he stared at the older man. "I do hope that the House of Dordinal was not involved in this..." He deliberately let his voice trail off, and it had the desired effect. "NO!" Marvick was quick to deny this carefully phrased accusation. His florid countenance flushed as he sought to negotiate between his duty to Council and House, and his loyalty to a friend. "The House of Dordinal had nothing to do with this." Defending himself by going on the attack, he quickly threw the blame elsewhere. "It is obvious that the person responsible was a Mage of great power. How else could he be taken out of the dungeon without being seen? Unless, of course, the guard is part of a conspiracy." His deepset eyes moved coolly from Reinald and Mulder to Jourdain as he spoke, waiting for someone to rise to the bait. However, his targets refused to respond. Instead Andalor simply nodded, then let his eyes travel from one House representative to another. Maalfees looked uncomfortable, but obviously innocent; all knew that the House of Maalfees preferred negotiation and bargaining - they would talk long before they would act. Ranfaus remained as serene as ever, and he returned Andalor's gaze with easy assurance. Forst and the Highlands both looked aggrieved, but innocently so. The boy king caught Mulder's eyes, and got a silent assurance that his assumption was correct. The only House that might have acted in such a precipitous manner was Dordinal, but they would have been crowing about it by now if they were responsible. None of the others had reason or resources to do so. Andalor's eyes scanned the non-human representatives, but only cursorily - for they had even less rationale for freeing Prince Drellor than their human counterparts. And yet... There had been so much trouble lately between the species. Andalor was fighting hard to keep things under control, but the situation was slowly, but surely, deteriorating. Nonetheless, throwing accusations against the Council representatives would only make things worse, especially since Andalor trusted these three far more than he trusted the householders. Karvan was a friend, and the troll Forssk had long been a source of wise counsel to the young man trying to assume a very heavy responsibility. And the gentle, aged gargoyle, Kleevor? No, Andalor just couldn't believe it. So what was left? An outside agency that sought to use Drellor's knowledge of the Realm for its own purposes. A small shiver went up the teenage ruler's spine as he contemplated that possibility. He did not want to face another war. Not now, not when the Realm was just beginning to flourish after the long season-cycles of recovery from the Dark War. Beside him, Jourdain caught the quick flash of fear and uncertainty on Andalor's face, and he broke in to give the boy time to recover his composure. "It is obvious that this was an outside agency, and one utilizing a powerful magician." He looked over at Reinald, who nodded gravely, then answered. "Yes. And there is no question that black magic was used." Reinald shivered at the memory, then continued, "We have done as much as we can to rid the Realm of those practicing the dark rites - but there are outlying areas that we have not been able to reach." He frowned gravely, "However, what concerns me the most is the amount of power used. This was no insane village witch or dabbler, this was a fully trained Mage. I know of only three Blue Mages with similar power: myself, Mulder and one other." Reinald's voice rang out in the deep silence, reverberating off the stone walls. His audience was tense and still, some faces drawn tight, others fighting to maintain a stony calm. But the air was full of electricity - black magicians were the stuff of childhood horror stories and nightmares. Few existed, and those that did were usually weak. To most Realm citizens, they were the occupants of isolated hovels, twisted in body and mind. A threat only to the unwary, most villagers considered them as much a subject of pity as of fear. Reinald carefully weighed each word before he delivered it. "We have to assume that whoever took Drellor plans to use him against us. I have never felt such depth of evil since the Dark Creatures came, and in some ways this is worse. This is the choice of an intelligent mind, someone who has walked down the path to darkness with deliberate knowledge and malicious intent." Jourdain's usually ruddy face was blanched beneath its deep-scoured tan. "Do you have any idea who the Black Mage is?" Reinald could only shake his head. Beside him Mulder stirred in his chair. It was a slight motion, but enough to draw every pair of eyes in the room to his face. Drawing in a deep breath, Mulder sat up straight in his chair. "I don't know the Realm well enough to make any guesses as to who this could be, but I think there is one more possibility we ought to consider. The sense I got from that cell..." His mouth pursed tight as though tasting something sour. "It felt different. I know little of this world outside Fairwood, but I can't help feeling that this magic may be from beyond the Realm. We know that the Dark Creatures came through from another place. What if this new threat also comes from beyond the Realm?" Silence fell in heavy shrouds across the council chamber. No one spoke for several tense moments, each caught up in the horrors of his own imagination, then Andalor cleared his throat to speak. However, before he could form the first word the heavy wooden doors burst open. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" The guard who came running into the room slid to a halt, his breath coming in short gasps. "What is it?" Andalor demanded imperiously, drawing himself up to his full height in his seat. The intruder flushed red, then paled as he delivered the unpleasant news in a violent rush of words. "There is trouble in the North. The neighboring elf and human communities in Fawnleaf and Cresscreek have been arguing a lot lately," Andalor nodded impatiently, and the man hurried to continue. "Well, they've come to blows. People have already been hurt and both sides are mobilizing for battle." Karvan was on his feet in a split second, rage coalescing on his fine, delicate features, followed almost instantly by Ian of Forst. The two glared at each other with open hostility, Cresscreek was close to Forst's ancestral seat, while Fawnleaf was home to the elven ambassador's family. Andalor leapt to his feet, putting his hands up between them, palms outwards. "Sit down," he commanded quietly. Karvan ignored him, hissing under his breath. "Sit down," Andalor demanded again. Ranfaus put his hand on Forst's arm, firmly guiding him down into his seat. It was Mulder who reached out for Karvan, touching him very lightly, almost tentatively, on the shoulder. The quick brush of the Mage's fingers was nonetheless enough to catch the aura-sensitive elf's attention, the bright unconscious flash of blue capturing his eyes. Once Karvan had turned his head to meet Mulder's eyes, he was unable to break away from the mix of sympathy and determination in that focused hazel gaze. Karvan remained stubborn for a tense moment, then gave in gracefully, easing himself back into his chair. Andalor nodded in gratitude at Mulder, then pushing his chair back, came to stand up against the edge of the table, placing both hands flat against the polished surface. The words were difficult for him to summon, and he found himself wishing yet again that he had been born anything but a king's son; that this burden could fall on anyone else's shoulders but his own. However, Andalor had already had his experience in rebellion and had learned some difficult lessons. Now, he could only make the best decision he could, and pray it would be the right one. "Enough." His voice was surprisingly cool, expressing no evidence of the turmoil within. "This fighting amongst ourselves has got to stop. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior by anyone, whether by humans against elves or elves against humans. The culprits will be brought to justice for their actions, and I intend to send a strong message that will be heard throughout the Realm. Jourdain, take your best men and leave at once for Fawnleaf. You have my full authority to handle the situation as you see fit. Mage Mulder, I would request that you accompany Jourdain. I would send Reinald, but I need him here to continue investigating my uncle's abduction." Mulder nodded his agreement, willing to help however he could. The Realm had become like a second home to him, and he felt as though he owed these people for their gracious hospitality in taking two strangers into their home and hearts. Andalor gave him a fleeting smile, then his face settled into stone. "Karvan, I would also like to send an elven representative. Preferably someone whom the villagers will listen to, and someone who will be willing to promote peace." Karvan's face was equally grave, but his temper had quieted. He, too, feared the results of open warfare between the species. Nodding, he proffered his suggestion quietly, naming a widely known elven priestess, though he added the concern that she was a several-day journey away in a village called Yellowfork. "I know the village Mage in Yellowfork. He is young, but I think he can be instructed to assist in constructing a Gate. We should be able to get her here immediately," Reinald offered. "Good." Andalor gave his approval for the choice. He issued a few more short instructions to Jourdain, then sat down almost wearily. Jourdain stood up, glancing at the two Mages, then he bowed to the young king and hurried from the room. Mulder was quick to follow, Reinald paused to drop a supporting hand on Andalor's red-clad shoulder before exiting as well. - - - - - Even at a distance, Mulder's "magic-sense" tingled as he felt Reinald manipulate the massive energies of the Gate. He tightened down on his shield, forcing the loud whine of the Mage- wind to settle down to a tolerable murmur at the edge of his mind. Wrapping his cloak around him in a nearly unconscious gesture, he turned to listen to his friend as the big captain issued a series of short staccato orders to a young green-clad officer. When Jourdain was done, his subordinate scurrying off to finalize preparations for their journey, he met Mulder's gaze with deep concern. "I don't like leaving Fairwood now. Drellor's abduction is only going to make things worse for Andalor." Mulder nodded in sympathy. "I know. But he has Reinald here, and something has to be done about the situation up north. If this really does break out into open warfare, it could end up sending the entire Realm into civil war." Jourdain's eyes flashed blue fire, but his face was saddened, the large bones shadowed and heavy even in the bright spring sunlight. "Yes, I know. By the gods, why do these things always seem to happen all at once?" "Murphy's law." Mulder commented wryly. "Murphy?" Jourdain questioned. Mulder chuckled. "A...philosopher of sorts from my world. The idea basically is that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." Jourdain nodded gravely, considering. "A wise man, this Murphy." He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "But let us hope he is not always right. The sooner we can settle the dispute in Fawnleaf and return to Fairwood, the better I will feel. I am afraid that Drellor's abduction can only bode evil for the king." Mulder had to agree. "This is a lot for Andalor to deal with. He's doing extremely well, better than I would have expected, but the pressure has to be getting to him. Many of the nobles treat him like a child to be indulged, yet ignored." Jourdain frowned, then abruptly smiled. "Perhaps it is not so bad that they underestimate him. Andalor has his father's steel. Everyday he becomes more and more like him." His face took on a surprising gentleness. "In the meeting this morn, I could almost have sworn it was indeed King Barnas standing there. Still...if this situation does develop into civil war, he could have some very difficult decisions to make. Ordering men into battle, knowing some will die - it is the hardest task a ruler must perform." "Well, we'll just have to do everything we can to see it doesn't come to that." Mulder spoke with determination, but also with a fatalistic tinge to his voice. Even so, Jourdain took the implied commitment to heart, and his entire posture straightened. Holding his head high, he glanced towards the stables where men and horses were assembling. "I'd better see to the final arrangements for the trip. How soon do you think you'll be ready to leave? I'd like to get some distance covered today." "I just need to pack a bag, then say goodbye to Scully. Shouldn't take me long." "Good, I'll meet you on the practice field as soon as Urielle has arrived and the troop is ready." "Okay," Mulder nodded acceptance, then turned and walked back into the castle. Jourdain watched him go for a moment, the dusty ends of the Mage's blue cloak flapping around his lean calves. When the tall, slender man had disappeared into the interior of the castle, Jourdain spun on booted heels and strode briskly towards the stables. End of Chapter One THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two Small clouds of dust rose from the packed earth of the practice fields, covering the combatants with a fine sheen of brown earth. Sweat mixed with the coat of dirt, sending thin rusty rivulets trickling across forearms and necks, soaking into the muted green clothes. Scully walked between the pairs, gesturing instructions, speaking in soft, yet commanding tones. "Hold your arm higher, Louda...No, Greska, you're leaving your right side unguarded, hold your sword this way....Good, Shannon, but watch your wrist - the weight should be held from the shoulder and back rather than by the wrist itself, or it will tire on you...." Aldara glanced at her friend briefly as they passed in opposing circuits of the field, then turned her attention to a particularly troublesome student. Yurka, suffering from a troll version of adolescent rebellion, was half-heartedly hacking at the much taller elf in front of her. Aldara nudged at the elf to step aside, and drew her own sword. Yurka's scowl deepened in response, but she finally picked up her speed. Soon the two were fighting in earnest, Aldara weaving her sword like the master she was, her slight limp hardly showing. Scully gave a final word of encouragement to the pair nearest her, then turned her attention back to the sword-master and her increasingly belligerent student. Yurka, finding herself consistently missing her strikes against the agile half-elf, pulled back and then charged blindly, throwing all of her considerable strength into the strike...and less than a single breath later, found herself lying flat on her belly in the dirt, the point of Aldara's sword pressed against the back of her thick neck. Aldara held her there for a moment, then stepped back. All eyes were on her as she calmly resheathed her silver-bladed weapon. "Never let emotion blind you in a fight. The first to lose their calm - to stop thinking - will be the first to fall." Yurka groaned, pulling herself back to her feet, glaring at a couple of the other students when they giggled behind the hands pressed to their mouths. That only stimulated louder chuckles, which caught Scully's attention. "That's enough for now," she told them. Gaining a quick glance of approval from Aldara, she called out loudly. "Take a break - we'll reassemble in half a candlemark." The students scattered almost instantly, wandering away in small groups towards the castle and the market stalls. A few remained on the field, gathering up small bags from the edges of the work area and squatting down to munch on bread and cheese. Aldara grimaced at Scully. "Sometimes I wonder if I could ever have been that bad?" Scully chuckled, absently pressing some loose auburn curls back into her thick braid as she responded with open humor. "I don't know about you, but I'm sure I was." Aldara shook her head. "No, you were rough and inexperienced, but you had talent. Some of them..." "They'll get there," Scully reassured her friend. "Shannon is doing well, as is Louda and Florgin." Aldara considered, then a smile brightened the sharp lines of her face. "True. And they are young." Rubbing at her back, she gave Scully a rueful look. "Which I no longer am." Scully studied the half-elf for a moment, taking in the small, slender frame that still moved with grace and agility, despite the war wound that threw her stride slightly akilter. Aldara's mane of ebony curls was confined by leather thongs into a tight ponytail that was coiled around the top of her head like a crown. The brilliant green eyes were large and wide, and glittered in the sunshine like jewels. "You're hardly ready for retirement, Dara," Scully told her, flashing even white teeth in a smile. Aldara grinned in return. "Retirement? Ha! That's for rich, lazy nobles who never truly worked a day in their useless lives." They both chuckled, then turned in response to a warm male voice. "A private joke, or can anyone share?" //Mulder.\\ Scully didn't bother saying his name aloud, she responded to his presence with a gentle opening of her mind. Warmth stirred along every nerve in her body as she welcomed him, and felt his own acknowledgment of her flood back along that indefinable link that was their life-bond. Their communion silent, utterly private, it would hardly have appeared to an observer that they noticed each other at all. "Private," Aldara told him, mirth sparkling in her emerald eyes as she looked up at the blue-robed man towering over her. "Ahhh..." Mulder replied, mentally winking at Scully. "Gossiping?" He shook his head in mock disgust. Aldara kicked out at his ankle, but he deftly got out of the way. They shared a smile, then Mulder's demeanor turned serious. Scully caught the mood change even before it settled onto his face, and her fingers brushed his sleeve even as her mind caressed the edges of his. //What is it?\\ Mulder opened his memories to her, the sense of evil that had sent him racing to the basement, Drellor's abduction, the Council meeting, and finally, the mission to Fawnleaf. "Ohh," Scully drew in a deep breath, gratefully entwining her fingers with his as he closed his hand upon hers. Looking up into his face, she asked, "You're leaving soon?" He nodded. Reaching out to cup her cheek, he whispered. "I don't like leaving you." "I know, but Andalor is right. This is important." "You could come with us." Mulder spoke almost plaintively, but Scully simply shook her head. "I can do far more good here. With both you and Jourdain gone, Andalor is going to need all the help he can get." Aldara was watching them both with open concern. She could only discern that something serious was happening, but not the specifics. Finally, her impatience won through, and she demanded to know what was going on. Mulder and Scully were both startled, having forgotten that she was there in their total preoccupation with each other. His fingers still clinging to Scully's small hand, Mulder gave Aldara a quick synopsis of the morning's events. Her face darkened as he spoke, a mixture of fear and anger swelling behind her eyes. "I'm sorry, Aldara," he finished, waving his free hand helplessly. "I know your family is in Fawnleaf. But I don't know anything more about the situation." "I understand," the half-elf replied. Her voice was quiet. "I've never been close to my relatives, in fact I haven't been home for many, many years. But they are still my family." Scully's face was soft with understanding. "Jourdain and Mulder will make sure no one else gets hurt. I'm glad Andalor is responding so decisively." Aldara agreed. "I just don't understand what is happening. Tempers seem to be so short lately. Elves are always a bit intemperate, but we haven't had interspecies tensions like this in nearly a hundred season-cycles. And there's no reason for it now. Things have been good since the Dark was defeated seven season- cycles ago." Mulder rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "I'm afraid that there IS a reason for it," he said cryptically. "What do you mean?" Scully asked. "I'm not sure, love, but I think there's something behind all of this - that it's being created to serve someone's interest." Mulder shrugged his shoulders, though his mouth tightened. Scully could feel the tension in his mind and body, and she reached instinctively out to him with reassurance. His eyes were warm as they settled on her upturned face. "But how?" Aldara questioned. "And who?" "I don't know," Mulder replied. He shivered slightly. "But whoever took Drellor this morning was very powerful. Reinald didn't know the spell used - it was complicated and difficult, requiring a great deal of power, training and control. What disturbs me the most is that the power felt...evil." He frowned, reaching for the words. "It was foul, made me feel dirty even at a distance." Aldara reacted with horror, while Scully was simply concerned. To the woman from a world without magic, it was still the stuff of fantasy. But to the half-elf, magic was a natural, and frightening, part of her world. Growing up talentless in a family full of magicians had sensitized her to the use and misuse of the power. It had been difficult enough for her to learn to live with, and come to care for, Blue Mages like Reinald and Mulder who utilized their abilities only for good, and refused to cause harm to others. The concept of a powerful Black Mage was terrifying to her, and though she tried to hide her fear, her skin bleached pale below its sun- hardened tan. Mulder immediately regretted his words, and did his best to reassure her. "This is all supposition, Aldara. A guess. It may well be that it's simply my imagination at work." He smiled ruefully, "It usually functions in overdrive." Scully smiled at that, though she had learned over the years together that, as wildly imaginative as he could be, Mulder's intuition was uncannily accurate. She had little doubt that he would be proved right in the long run, and the possibility scared her. When Mulder started getting *feelings* of this sort, bad things tended to happen. Further conversation was halted by a sudden shout of Mulder's name. A tall, slender young woman whose thick black hair was coiled into a pair of tight braids ran towards them, a delighted smile on her angular face. "Mulder! I mean, Taabsut Mulder," Shannon still stumbled over the Realm's reliance on titles and protocol, but her respect and affection for her guardian was heartfelt - and fully returned. "Hi Shannon," Mulder responded, turning to welcome her, grinning boyishly. "Have you come to watch me practice? Are you going to practice with us? I learned this neat new move - I can show it to you, if you like." Mulder chuckled. "Another time. I'm afraid I'll have to take a raincheck." "Oh," her face fell briefly, then recovered quickly. "Okay. But you can stay for a while?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Actually, I'm here to say goodbye." "Goodbye?" "Jourdain and I have a job to do for the king. There's some interspecies fighting going on in a village north of here. We're riding up to adjudicate the case." "Oh," Shannon looked upset, then she brightened. "Can I come?" she asked with adolescent fervor. Mulder couldn't help sharing a smile with Scully. The sullen, angry teenager who had come with them to the Realm had slowly been replaced by this happy, glowing young woman over the past few moon-cycles. As she became accustomed to the life here, she had begun to develop both confidence and enthusiasm, and had even begun to accept her aura-designated place in this society. As her skills as a fighter increased, so did her trust in herself and the people around her. "Another time," he told her fondly, but firmly. "This could be a difficult situation. And we need to get it solved as quickly as possible." The corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards, warming the strong planes of his face. "So I can hurry back here and learn those moves from you." She looked disappointed, but accepted his decision philosophically, not really having expected to be included. "I'll stay out of the way," she offered as a last attempt to change his mind. Scully intervened. "You have a great deal of work to do here, Shannon. Particularly with your sword-handling. " Shannon grimaced, then shrugged. "Yeah - okay." She looked up at Mulder, mentally delighting in the fact that she was near to his height. A few inches taller than Scully, she was still growing in sudden spurts. "I'll miss you," she told him gravely. "I'll miss you too," he replied. He reached out to her, and she responded by hugging him tightly. Then she stepped back and calmly pointed her forefinger at him. "Be careful," she admonished. "Yes, ma'am," he bowed his head to her. She grinned and spun around on her booted heels to race towards her friends who were already assembling in the center of the field. Mulder glanced over at Aldara. "Keep an eye on her." Aldara smiled. "We'll keep her too busy to even *think* about getting into trouble. But I agree with her. Be careful, Mulder." "I will, and I'll have Jourdain to look after me. And speaking of your husband..." Mulder looked over Aldara's head at the big form approaching them with characteristic steadiness. Aldara turned to follow his gaze, and her entire face lit up. Excusing herself with a quick smile, she stepped away to meet him a few feet away. Scully watched the large man enfold his diminutive wife in his arms, leaning backwards instinctively as Mulder wrapped his arms around her. She wriggled around in his arms until she was facing him, and immediately burrowed her face into his chest. The wool of his cloak was rough but warm against her cheek and nose, and she gratefully drew in the smell of him. Herbal soap was mixed with leather, colored by a slight, unfamiliar musty odor, and the clean masculine scent that was all his own. His arms tightened around her, and she closed her eyes with pleasure. Instinctively, she tilted her hips to press herself up against him, molding the slender curves of her body to the lean strength of his. As she moved, she felt his response, both physical and emotional wash over her, his body hardening against her belly, his mind overflowing with a mix of love and desire, wistful regret threaded with excitement. //Dana.\\ His mind caressed hers while his mouth nibbled at the crown of her fiery head, then traced down the line of her temple to her cheek. She lifted her face, not bothering to open her eyes, letting him read her desires without speaking them aloud. A gasp was caught in her throat as he gave her all that she could have wished for, at long last claiming her lips with the insistent pressure of his. She clutched at his shoulders and he supported her, devouring her lips, her mouth, teasing at her tongue with his. She drew him in and held him there, almost as though she were trying to literally meld their flesh together. And he sought that contact as eagerly as she did, the knowledge of their separation adding a flavor of desperation to their lovemaking. Scully had never been one to put their relationship in the public eye, and neither was Mulder, both choosing to guard their privacy. But now, knowing that they were facing time apart, the need to be together - to join their bodies as they joined their minds - was intoxicating, demanding, pushing aside all recognition of their surroundings. He could have lowered her into the dirt of the practice field and torn aside their clothing, and she would have welcomed him. Wrapped her legs around his back and dug her fingers into him, screaming out her pleasure into the open air. And mind-to-mind, indeed, they made love - the joining more spiritual than physical, a shared sensation, wrapped in layer upon layer of imagination; memory and dreams spun into a web of psychic reality. Scully moaned aloud as he tasted her throat, licked at the hollow beneath her chin, drew long, elegant fingers down the length of her spine. Her own hands tested the familiar planes of his back and shoulders, then slipped upwards to tangle into the silken darkness of his hair. As he matched her with a low groan of his own, the sunlight caught on the sapphire stone set in the heavy gold ring on his right hand, sending out an unnoticed blaze of blue fire. Her own ring gleamed in brown and green before it was obscured by his hair, the warmth of the metal less still than the warmth of her sun-bronzed skin. And the color less than the bright coppery glow of her auburn hair. His hands threaded through the thick coils, threatening to dislodge the tight braid from the top of her head. Even through the whirlwind of their passion, she felt the heavy braid shift and loosen causing her to laugh as she reached up to grab at his wrist. "Stop that!" she told him sternly, though her blue eyes were dancing as they met his. He grinned unabashedly, his mind finding and focusing on a memory - an image of her sitting up in bed, hair curling loose around her bare shoulders, picking up reflections of the firelight. //I like it down.\\ She almost blushed at the image, though the emotions that accompanied it - pleasure, delight, appreciation, sexual desire, and above all, love - made her heart beat even faster in her chest. The blood rushing in her veins, she gave him a slow, loving smile, generous red lips curving over white teeth, dimples forming in her cheeks. //It's not practical when I'm working.\\ The slight chiding tone was underwritten with amusement and satisfaction. He responded by framing her face with his hands. His thumbs rubbed gently at her temples, then ran down across her cheekbones to her mouth. Her hands clinging to his upper arms, she remained still as he ran the edge of his right thumb over her bottom lip. Slowly, he bent his head down towards hers and licked at that lip. She sighed, her mouth opening in invitation, but he restrained himself to the single caress. He repeated the pair of gestures with her upper lip, her nose, her chin, then aimed for her earlobe. "Eeeewwww," she giggled, pulling away as he thrust his tongue deep into her ear. Mulder chuckled as she mock-frowned at him, then joined him in his laughter. He silenced her with a gentle kiss, then pulled back again to stare down into her upturned eyes. //I love you.\\ //I love you,\\ she responded, sending the thought on a wave of emotion. Instantly, they were again kissing, touching, clinging to each other, lost in an intense wave of passion. Unaware of the world around them, and the man staring at them, one hand outstretched, his mouth half-open in aborted speech. The small woman by the big man's side was less restrained. Moving swiftly, she reached out to grab their arms and tugged hard. Even so, it took a moment for the entwined pair to respond. Breaking apart abruptly, they both turned towards the unwelcome interruption, and blushed, a wave of color creeping over both faces in unison. Aldara let go of their arms, and placed her hands on her small hips in a gesture of mock-impatience. Behind her, Jourdain was staring at them apologetically, though with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Sorry to interrupt you," Aldara said, "but we do have a class to teach." "Class?" Scully turned to see the entire group of students watching them, many of them barely managing to stifle giggles behind their hands. "Uh oh," she whispered, cursing her tell-tale coloring even as her skin managed to blush more furiously. Mulder chuckled into her ear. "Looks like we've got an audience." She frowned up at him, but couldn't keep up the annoyance for more than a second. Especially not now. Scully glanced over at Jourdain, then back at her lover. "You have to go." It was more of a statement than a question, and one that Mulder confirmed quickly. "Yes." He leaned down to steal one last, quick kiss. "Take care of yourself, love," he whispered, reluctantly stepping back. She reached out to grab his arms and hold him just a moment longer. "You too. Mulder, please...be careful and come home soon." Worry flickered onto her face, and he instantly tried to reassure her. With a gentle smile, he cupped her cheek. "I will. I'll be home so soon you won't even realize I'm gone." She essayed a tentative smile, closed her hand over his and drew it to her mouth. Placing a kiss on his palm, she finally released him and stepped back. Turning to Jourdain, she wished him well. "Have a safe trip, and take of him for me." The big captain nodded seriously. "I will." He looked over at Mulder. "We'd better get going, I would like to get to Wishalla before nightfall." Mulder nodded. He reached out to touch Aldara's shoulder in a silent goodbye, then he fell into step beside Jourdain. The two men strode across the field towards the stable, pausing on the edge of the enclosure to briefly glance back at the women they loved, then hunching their shoulders, they disappeared from sight. - - - - - Scully herded the students back into their places, feeling as though every eye was burning into her back. Once Mulder was gone, the passion fled with him, leaving an empty sensation in the pit of her belly. He had been absent for less than a handful of breaths, and already she ached for him. That sense of need was only aggravated by the embarrassment flooding her, as she realized that all of her students had witnessed her impassioned, and unfortunately very public, goodbye to her bondmate. If only they could have had some time alone... but what was done was done. Scully squared her shoulders, then reached for her sword. After all, everyone already knew about her relationship with Mulder. Auras were easily read by most Realm denizens, and though Scully had only recently begun to see them herself, she realized that the lifebond was clearly visible to anyone with an eye to see. Still, the implicit nature of the relationship embodied in that psychic aural bond was a bit different from acting it out in front of twelve teenagers, all of whom were supposed to be looking to her for advice and training. Like a wedding ring, anyone seeing the lifebond would know they were sexually involved - but there was a level of privacy between that implicit knowledge and seeing it acted out in public. She sighed under her breath as she led them in some basic exercises, hoping she hadn't done too much damage to her position as instructor, totally unknowing that the primary emotion most of the students had felt was simple envy. Lifebonded to a Mage - and not just any Mage, but one who was young, handsome, and extremely talented - Scully had no way of knowing that this was the subject of many a young woman's fantasy in the Realm. Since it was *never* done, it held the flavor of the forbidden, which only made the dreams sweeter and more tantalizing. To see it realized in front of them elicited a flood of emotions, envy mixed with awe, jealousy with respect, and a strong dash of curiosity to flavor the mix. Add in her own unique talents, warrior and healer talents in one person, and she would never have to worry about losing their attention or their admiration. But Scully, lost in her own thoughts, was hardly aware of the looks she was receiving, or how those emotions were fueling the fires within them. Focusing on the demands of the sword training, she pushed them, and herself, harder and harder - demanding all they could give. For a while, all went well. Even the difficult-to-please Aldara was nearly smiling with satisfaction. They spent a candlemark rehearsing the basic moves, moving in unison, thirteen blades slicing the bright spring air in steady, convoluted patterns. Then they paired up again, in two rotating semi-circles, each student clashing briefly with the one facing her, then spinning sideways at a shouted command. Around like two interlocked wheels they went, until finally, something broke. Florgin moved to take Shannon's place with Yurka, only to find the two combatants still squared off, breaking out of formation to circle each other warily. Yurka was still suffering from the earlier humiliation at Aldara's hands, and it hadn't been difficult to transfer the rage to the tall, foreign girl. Shannon held an enviable position as Mulder's niece, and her close friendship with King Andalor was fodder for castle gossip. To the angry, humiliated troll princess, she became a living symbol of all the forces arrayed against her in her own mind. She hated looking up to the taller humans, and though she never would admit it, she was deeply homesick for her forest kingdom. The knot of pain and bitterness welled up inside, then abruptly exploded, when she found herself unable to keep up with Shannon's agile quickness. Her green skin deepening in color, she let out a cry of rage and charged blindly, only to find herself stumbling past her taller opponent, Shannon's sword tapping lightly at her back. "Wolf dung!" she cursed, recovering her balance and hefting her sword. This time, her fury was cold and concentrated. She deliberately led Shannon into believing the next strike would come as the last had done, but this time the small, powerfully muscled troll was prepared for the human girl's side-step and she spun on her heels and thrust back-handed at her opponent. The tip of her blade slid under Shannon's guard and struck against her abdomen, slicing into her green tunic and drawing a few drops of blood. Shannon cried out, bringing her own sword around hard, the impact of it against Yurka's iron blade reverberating up her arm and through her slender frame. The troll felt the collision too, but it only spurred her on. Slicing through the air with massive strokes of her heavily-muscled forearm, she struck out at Shannon, forcing her to yield ground. Blood oozing from the sharp gash in her belly, Shannon's temper frayed and then gave way. Her eyes blazed as she finally stood her ground, but it was just a moment too late. Yurka's momentum carried her onward, a violent thrust and shove sending Shannon tumbling to the ground. Growling, Yurka knelt down onto Shannon's chest, drawing the silver-edged blade down against the girl's exposed neck. As though at a distance, she could hear Aldara and Scully's voices screaming for her to stop, but that seemed only another reason to take her revenge. Shannon felt, more than saw, the sharp edge of the sword fall towards her throat. Blood rushed though her veins, her head pounding, her senses screaming. She felt like she was on fire, as though an electric current was rising from the ground itself and coursing though her entire body. Something seemed to give way inside her mind, and then there was a bright flash of blue light, blinding in its intensity. An instant before her sword would have pierced Shannon's skin, Yurka was thrown upward by that burning blue light, her body twisting in mid-air, her mouth caught in a silent scream. Below her, Shannon gasped for breath as energy drained from her body in one abrupt rush, then left her lying limp and nearly senseless in the dirt. Simultaneously, the blue envelope holding the troll suspended in mid-air shimmered and then disappeared, leaving its hapless prisoner to tumble to the unforgiving ground. When Scully and Aldara converged on them, both troll and human were laying sprawled on the ground, limbs outstretched at uncomfortable angles, only the rise and fall and their chests indicating life still stirred within. "GET UP!!" Scully yelled. Mulder had been gone for barely a couple of candlemarks, but she could feel his absence scratching at the edge of her awareness. Without him she felt incomplete, empty, and that internal ache was only exacerbated by the mix of emotion stirred by their very public leave-taking. She felt sexually frustrated and deeply embarrassed at the same time, and abruptly, her tumultuous emotions exploded in a flash of anger. Reaching down, she grabbed both semi-conscious students by their tunics and shook them hard. Ignoring the wide-eyed stares of Aldara and the other students, Scully lashed out with a vehement tirade towards both Shannon and Yurka, even though both were in no condition to listen, much less appreciate the lecture they were being subjected to. Finally, Scully's flood of words faded off to silence, and she dropped them both to the ground with a groan of frustration. Stalking away, Scully let Aldara and the others tend to Shannon and Yurka's physical wounds, while she stood by herself, shaking, trying to regain her control. What in the Realm was wrong with her? End of Chapter Two THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Three The necessarily slow pace on the narrow path gave Mulder ample time to dwell on the purpose of their mission, as well as on his own ills. Shifting impatiently in his saddle, he gathered his Mage-cloak more closely around him, for once grateful for its bulk. He let his horse follow the others along the pitted and tortuous trail through the cold, dank forest as, hunched miserably, he rode lost in thought. They were finally nearing Fawnleaf, the village where Aldara had been born and raised. An ancient feud concerning boundary lines and water rights between elven Fawnleaf and its neighboring human village, Cresscreek, had been resurrected from the depths of time. All the old stories of inequalities and past transgressions had been dredged up. For almost a full moon-cycle, fights had broken out between the inhabitants of the two villages in market towns, taverns - indeed, anywhere that the feuding villagers met. The situation simmered, each incident getting a little more violent, each occurrence growing in the telling, until finally serious bloodshed broke out. A human mob had marched on an elven farm near a boundary line in question, burning it to the ground, slaughtering livestock and seriously injuring the farmer as he tried to escape with his family. On the heels of the mob's attack, ugly rumors of a plan for revenge by the elves of Fawnleaf had made their way to Fairwoods. Andalor had no choice but to react swiftly, before more blood was spilled. Mulder arched his back and rolled his head on his neck, trying to ease the tension there. He had jumped at the chance to accompany Jourdain, relishing the opportunity to contribute to the peace-keeping efforts. He also wanted to get to know Urielle better. While two squads of troops accompanied them on this mission, they were not to be used unless all other means of controlling violent outbreaks failed. Andalor in laying his plan was relying heavily on the presence of Urielle, an elven priestess, to convince the beings of Fawnleaf that revenge was against the most-cherished tenets of their faith and would serve no purpose. If that failed, Mulder knew that he would be the next one up to bat, with a showy display of magic that was designed to make the feuding villagers think twice about furthering their dispute. Mulder pulled his cloak higher on his neck. Of course, it seemed like a much better idea yesterday. A night alone on wet, cold ground huddled under soggy blankets had literally dampened his enthusiasm, and he was missing his bondmate terribly. Now he was tense, jumpy and longed only to get back to Scully and their big high warm bed. He shivered at a sensation like an electric current running just beneath his skin, at once stimulating and irritating, like pins and needles. He rubbed his hands together, trying to rid himself of the strange sensation that had been building for hours, then he looked around distastefully. The drizzle had let up at last, but the canopy of overhanging branches still dripped with cold moisture and shielded the sun, casting the forest in a pervasive gloom. Even the ring Andalor had given him, gold with the clearest Mage-blue stone, seemed to have lost its sparkle and hung on his finger, heavy, cold and dull. Urielle rode just ahead, protected between himself and Jourdain. Even Mulder, not very accomplished at the art, could see her aura; a soft golden glow with a wide border of blue. She was endowed with more than the usual elven share of magical ability, and might have developed that talent further. But from childhood, she had known that her destiny was to live as an example to her people and practice the ancient rites of her faith. She was even tinier than normal for an elf, with long flaxen hair which covered her pointed ears. Crowning her hair was a wreathlet of lashella vines, a plant used in her worship ceremonies. She was clothed in the simple, stark white finecloth shift and cloak which marked her as a priestess. Riding on the back of one of the massive Realm horses, she radiated an overwhelming sense of serenity which in itself brought some comfort. It was reputed that when she spoke, her deep sense of peace was communicated to her listeners. It was just this sense of calm that the peace mission hoped would spread among the warring villagers. Usually Urielle dwelled with her sister priestesses of the age-old Beyfahla faith in a remote part of the Fairwoods Forest, held sacred by the devout. But she had been conducting the Spring planting rites in Yellowfork, a village far to the south, when Andalor realized that her presence might very well secure the success of the mission. Reinald had reassured the terrified but fascinated Yellowfork Mage in the steps to constructing a Gate. Fortunately, the young man was an able student and together, they safely transported Urielle to Fairwoods Castle in time to join the peace mission. Everyone's highest hopes were that she would prevent further bloodshed, not only in the feuding villages to the north, but everywhere in the Realm that such hatred was festering. The way I'm feeling, thought Mulder grimly, I hope that Urielle CAN do it all. He was wound up like a watchspring, and the rigors of diplomacy were the last thing on his mind at the moment. He tried to communicate with Scully again, and again he failed. Something was interfering with their communication - it shouldn't be so difficult from such a short distance away. Maybe it had something to do with the strange sensations he was feeling. He consciously tensed all his muscles and, taking a few deep breaths, tried to relax them. But it was an exercise in futility; he remained as wound up as he was before. Sourly, he prodded his horse in the flanks to hurry it along. The path finally began to widen into a clearing. A few hundred meters further on, the muddy track became a road paved with cobblestones leading into a small village. As they passed, elves looked up sullenly from their work and stared. Still grasping their tools, they followed the horses to the meeting place of the elders in the village square. A grim assemblage of older men came out of the thatched cottage to meet them as Jourdain, Mulder and Urielle dismounted. "Away with you! We have no need of a lecture from a human king telling us how to behave." Mulder's expression darkened and clouds began once again to obscure the setting sun. Head throbbing, he was more than happy to take a step back and let his companions take charge of the situation. Let them deal with the ungrateful, bloodthirsty little buggers, he thought. But Jourdain was already glowering and historically had little patience for diplomacy at the best of times. Urielle returned Mulder's gaze and appeared to be looking to him to speak and preserve the fragile calm. Bowing to the inevitability of the situation, he cleared his throat. Summoning all his control to override his mood, in a soft respectful tone the Mage said, "There will be no lecture, honored elder. We bring our condolences for your recent afflictions and Urielle, priestess of Beyfahla, who will help you to heal. The king wishes you only peace. He offers his assistance in bringing this sad conflict to a close." The elders seemed taken aback by Mulder's almost humble manner, but quickly returned to their aggressive stance. The chief elder's lips thinned into a scornful smile. "Word of your journey has already reached the ears of the human garbage of Cresscreek. We have it on good authority that they are on their way here now, to enlist you humans in their cause. We have dwelled on this earth for many years and are not easily fooled. If the king is offering his assistance, it will not be to the favor of elven Fawnleaf, of that there can be no doubt." Solemnly Mulder shook his head. "My message to you stands, honored elder. The king has not taken sides. He only wishes for the bloodshed to end." "Well, we'll soon see. But they will not find us unprepared," the elder replied coldly. "You've come on a fool's errand, Mage. Why don't you go back to where you came from and mind your own business?" In a sudden rush of anger, Mulder took a step toward the elder, towering over him. The elves closest to the Mage retreated quickly, less because of the look in his eye than the appearance of his aura, which was flaring in white-blue all around him. A startled Jourdain looked over at the Mage. Although blind to his aura, he could see that Mulder was furious, an emotion he had rarely observed in the young man. He braced himself to be ready for anything. The elves on the outskirts of the group now crowded in, determined to be in a position to retaliate against the king's men should any attack be launched against their elders. Forcing himself to regain control of his frayed nerves, Mulder stepped back slowly, de-escalating the threat against the elders. A few moments of deep controlled breathing, and his aura glowed clear blue and the sky once again began to clear. The elves all breathed an involuntary sigh of relief, for however angry they were, no one had any desire to be on the receiving end of the Mage's temper. Breathing his own sigh of relief, Jourdain looked around at the growing number of elves who encircled them, all holding scythes, pitchforks, hammers or some other tool which could all too easily become a lethal weapon. "Bashar, come here." The squad leader urged his horse over to his captain. "Take your squad and ride out on the road to Cresscreek. Escort their party here. And mind - keep an eye out for trouble. This mission could turn into a disaster if there is an ambush on the way here." Bashar nodded curtly, gathered his troops and galloped off. There was an uncomfortable silence as the group from Fairwoods Castle met the glowering stares of their elven hosts. Mulder felt uneasy, like something was missing, and then remembered that they had been in the village some minutes now and none of the customary - indeed required - etiquette had been observed. His anger swirled again, causing fire to spark in his eyes while his aura again flamed outward in brilliant azure waves of pure energy. The elders instantly backed off a quick step, then exchanged fearful glances. At a nod from the chief elder, they scurried to distribute tea, first to Mulder and Urielle, and finally to Jourdain and his remaining soldiers. Then they seated themselves on the stone benches in the square, leaving their guests standing. This was another deliberate slight, another serious breach of Realm etiquette, and all eyes were turned to the Fairwoods party to catch their reaction. The tension was mud-thick, and a low grumble was starting amongst the remaining squad of soldiers and soon echoed in the mob of elven villagers. With a glance, Jourdain quelled any sound from his troops. Grim-faced, Mulder caught the captain's eye, both men ready for action if the situation required it, indeed, almost hoping for an excuse to knock some sense into the elders.... Looking down, the Mage observed Urielle, who was concentrating fiercely. Eyes focused on the distance, it appeared that she was both blind and deaf to anything around her. Within seconds, the air felt less highly charged and those around her seemed to relax a bit. Even Mulder felt a lightening of his mood, and almost groaned in relief as the knotted muscles in the back of his neck relaxed a little. One elder, and then others, invited the Fairwoods party to sit. Somewhat chastened, they began to speak with their guests in small groups. Urielle let out a long shaky breath and staggered slightly. Mulder grabbed her arm to support her frail frame and led her over to sit on a stone bench. "Nice work," he said softly, seating himself next to her. "Have you always been an empath?" She turned to him, questioning. "An empath?" "Yes. An empath is someone who can discern the feelings of others and affect them in some manner," he explained. As his own tensions lessened and the irritating sensation beneath his skin became more bearable, his burning curiosity took hold. Urielle gazed at him serenely. "Yes, since I was quite young. All priestesses have the ability to some degree. I've had to practice it, to learn to perfect it, of course, and as you can see it takes a lot out of me. But when the conditions are right, I can adjust attitudes to be a bit more...cooperative." "And what are the right conditions?" "I must intervene early." She sighed. "If there is too much violence, too much hatred and evil and negativity, if there are too many people experiencing those sensations, it's just too difficult to fight against. I try to adjust the mood first, then speak. That's what I hope to do here. Please the Goddess, it will work." She surveyed the elders and the crowd. "There is a lot of hate here, I can feel it. But there's something else as well, as if this is being superimposed or forced...." She shook her head and looked at him with an apologetic smile. "I can't explain it." Mulder opened his mouth for another question but was interrupted by hoofbeats. Moments later, several large wagons rumbled to a stop, escorted by Bashar's squad. Scores of humans, armed with tools and knives, poured out of the wagons and filled the north side of the square. Three older humans strode threateningly up to the Fawnleaf elders. Jourdain motioned to his troops who drew their weapons as he and Mulder leapt between the adversaries. The startled humans took a step back. "All right. All of you! Anything that you're holding - put it down now. Elves - place your weapons over by the well. Humans, throw them in the back of your wagons. NOW!" Jourdain's growl left no room for argument. With resentful glances, the crowd did as he ordered. "See that you continue to behave yourselves. Is that clear?" There was a rumble of petulant assent. "Now, you will give your full attention to Urielle, priestess of Beyfahla." Mulder lifted the tiny elf onto the base of the battle memorial raised to commemorate those who fell in the war with the Dark Creatures. He watched the sullen crowd and his expression darkened. Turning to Urielle, he noted her anxious, puzzled expression. "What's wrong?" he asked in a low voice. "I think.... There's...." She stopped and began again. "I'm not sure I can do this," she whispered, her eyes focused on the distance. "The hatred - it's so strong, so unnaturally strong, it's like a wall of black stone. I'm not sure I can get through to them." "You have to try, Urielle," he urged desperately. "I know." She took a deep breath and concentrated all her thoughts toward calming the hundred or more angry beings before her. She was silent for several minutes, trembling with the effort she was exerting. Finally she opened her eyes and in a low, rich voice, began to speak. "Good beings of Fawnleaf, good beings of Cresscreek. Listen to me, then listen to your hearts. This hatred, these transgressions against your neighbor - these are not the actions of the hard-working, Goddess-loving people of these villages. Look deep into your souls. Not so long ago, you were as brothers, fighting against the Dark Creatures and the terror and hardships that they brought with them to our land. Look upon this memorial and think of the many who bravely sacrificed their lives so that you could live in peace. What has happened, my children, that now you fight your brothers as savagely as you once fought those beasts? Can any of you say that your brother poses so great a threat that you must take up arms against him?" "No, my children, listen to the teachings of the Goddess who walks amongst us still: take not arms up against your brother, for surely you are taking them up against yourself. Make your heart peaceful and show to everyone only your joy. Revenge is an unholy act, condemned by the Goddess. In her wisdom, she knows that revenge brings only more blood and hate. Follow the teachings of the Goddess. Do not sever yourself from her wisdom and love." The crowd had lost their angry, resentful expressions and were now listening to Urielle's low melodious voice, rapt in her message. Mulder noted with alarm her pallor, the beads of sweat standing out on her brow. In spite of her seeming serenity, the tranquillity of her message, she was pouring out enormous amounts of energy. He hoped she would be able to keep it up - whatever she was doing, it was working. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling shriek cut across Urielle's words. Harnessed to one of the Cresscreek wagons, a pair of giant Realm steeds reared up, eyes wild with terror, hooves flailing the air and nostrils flaring. A second later, they were tearing toward the crowd, the wagon veering madly behind them, flinging discarded weapons across the square. The screaming crowd scattered in all directions, trying to get out of the way of the charging animals and their lethal cargo, crashing into each other and trampling the fallen underfoot in their panic. Jostled by terrified beings running for their lives, Urielle lost her balance and fell from her perch on the monument, rolling helplessly into the square. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the stampeding horses scant meters away and bearing down on her. In a flash, Mulder scooped the nearly weightless body of the priestess into his arms. Stumbling from the momentum of his action, he made it to the other side of the square holding her to his chest. Then, sweat blinding his vision, he tripped. Still protecting the tiny priestess, he rolled as he fell heavily onto his right shoulder. As the wagon tore by, he managed to get her under him and protected by his body from the debris flying in its path. Almost unnoticed in the panic, two of the Fawnleaf elders went down under the wheels of the wagon, their shrieks of terror and agony drowned out by the mob. - - - - - Scully bent stiffly to pick up a misplaced swordguard where it lay in the dirt of the practice grounds. Automatically, she wiped the grime from the guard with her tunic before handing it to Aldara for safekeeping. The students had been dismissed early today from the practice grounds. Although Aldara and Scully had seen to it that Yurka and Shannon were widely separated throughout the morning and afternoon exercises, it was clear that the concentration of all of the students was more on yesterday's fracas than on today's drills. And the auburn-haired warrior had to admit that her concentration was not all that it should have been either. She missed Mulder, missed him terribly. She had gotten little sleep the previous night, almost physically aching for her bondmate. She finally gave up trying, and had spent the rest of the night restlessly pacing the battlements. Between Mulder's absence and the trouble yesterday.... Shannon and Yurka had come close to killing each other. What had possessed Shannon to retaliate like that? For that matter, what had possessed her opponent to launch so savage an attack in the midst of a practice session? There was a general undercurrent of unrest that Scully had noticed for several weeks with some discomfiture. Perhaps both Shannon and the troll had been influenced by it. Of course, it still didn't explain the girl's inadvertent use of magic.... While she thought, Scully absently massaged her shoulder and stretched out her back muscles, grimacing as she did so from the soreness in her body. "Are you all right?" Aldara looked at her friend with a worried expression. "You look - I don't know - strange." "Of course I'm all right," she snapped. Scully shook her head, then immediately regretted the action as the pain behind her eyes increased exponentially. "Aldara, I'm sorry. I don't know. It started yesterday, a little while after Mulder left. I'm just in a lousy mood, I guess. Worrying about Mulder, worrying about the situation between the species. And now trying to figure out what the hell's going on with Shannon. I feel like I could jump out of my skin. Maybe I'm coming down with something," she said doubtfully. Or I have the Realm's worse case of PMS, she thought to herself. She willed herself to relax. "Never mind. Forget it." "Why don't you have dinner with us tonight?" suggested Aldara, sympathetically. "We're both alone, with Mulder and Jourdain being away. And Lita said she was going to make kalarna tonight - a traditional elf dish from a recipe that's been in her family for generations. You know, as much as Lita loves me, I still haven't persuaded her to divulge that recipe. Come to think of it, I guess that may be just as well, all things considered." In spite of her previous bad temper, Scully suppressed a laugh as her friend's face clouded with bemusement. Aldara's cooking was legendary for some truly spectacular failures. After each failed attempt, after the flames had been doused or the mess cleaned off the walls, Aldara had always protested that she had done exactly as the recipe had directed. Her forays into the art of cuisine had dwindled lately, to the relief of her husband. "Either eat it with me or eat it alone - Lita always makes double and sends the rest for you and Mulder anyway. In any case, it will do you good to get a hot meal inside you." Scully smiled gratefully. "I can't promise how much I'll eat, but I certainly could use the company. If I stay by myself, I'll just dwell on how lonely and miserable I am, which is what I did all last night. I hate it when Mulder goes away...." Her voice trailed off and she seemed far away for a few minutes. "Scully?" "Hm? Oh, sorry Aldara." She shivered. "Come to think of it, a nice hot meal sounds pretty good right now." "Great," Aldara smiled. "There is a small price to pay, however. Do you mind if I ask your advice about Daanna?" "I can't claim to be an authority on childrearing, but I'll do my best," replied Scully. "More problems?" The two women strolled companionably the short distance from the practice grounds to the small cottage that Aldara shared with Jourdain and their daughter, Daanna. Mulder and Scully had recently helped them to build another extension to the cottage. Daanna now had her own room, complete with fireplace, at the opposite end of the cottage from the older extension which housed her parents' bedroom. The large main room, which had once been the entire dwelling, now functioned only as kitchen and living area. Aldara had furnished it simply but comfortably. Her flair had been in decorating with wonderful hand-loomed tapestries. During her recuperation from her war injuries, she had found much to her astonishment that she had a real gift for the art of weaving. Now her creations graced her home and the homes of her closest friends, who were delighted to have them. In Mulder and Scully's quarters alone hung three of Aldara's original tapestries, the scenes depicting some of their most cherished memories together. Entering the warm cottage, Scully sniffed the air appreciatively. Lita looked up from a pot she was stirring on the hearth to smile her welcome. On the hearthrug, Daanna played with some blocks, her small face frowning in concentration as she built her tower. Weary, aching, Scully sat at the table and gratefully accepted the mug of tea that Lita placed in front of her. "Dinner is ready for you, my chicks. Daanna and I have already eaten, so we'll go prepare Scully's quarters for the night while you have a nice chat. Will you come and help me, Daanna?" "Yes! Yes, please!" The little girl leapt off the rug and ran to the door, eyes sparkling. "Bye Momma, bye Scully." With a wink at the two friends, Lita and the child went out the door. "You should say Warrior Healer Scully, Daanna." The door closed on the remainder of her words. "Was that prearranged, or is Lita a mindreader?" Scully asked Aldara with a smile. "In this particular case I spoke with her earlier, but I wouldn't rule anything out where Lita is concerned," she replied. She seemed undecided about how to proceed, so she rose and began serving the kalarna, which turned out to be a whole roasted fish with some kind of savory stuffing. She added some vegetables from the pot and handed Scully a steaming plate. She blew gently on the food to cool it before taking a bite. "Mmm! Really unusual flavor, unlike anything I've ever had before. It's good." Scully had met Daanna when she and Mulder had returned to the Realm. While it was obvious that Aldara loved her daughter, it was equally obvious that it was not the usual mother-daughter relationship. Aldara had been having a difficult time, not so much with Daanna's behavior as with her reactions to Daanna's talents. The child possessed many powerful gifts, apparent magical abilities that made her mother very uncomfortable. Scully often served as a sounding board for Aldara as the woman struggled to forge a bond with her own little girl. If her friend was having a hard time introducing the subject of the most recent problems, Scully thought she would make it easier for her. "So - what's up with Daanna?" Aldara made a gesture of complete bewilderment. "For the most part, nothing. She hasn't had any of her foretelling dreams now in a while, and she is a very sweet, very obedient child. Most mothers would consider themselves lucky to have a child like Daanna. And I do - I truly do consider myself lucky. But there are times that she's just so strange - she looks at me like I'm not even there, like she doesn't know me. Her mind can be totally elsewhere, and I haven't got a clue what she's thinking about. Sometimes she talks to herself, like she's - I don't know - but I can't follow what she's saying, it's like her own language or something. She's been having nightmares, too. Bad ones. Sometimes it takes a candlemark or more for her to really wake up and be aware of her surroundings again." "Well, nightmares are something I do know about," offered Scully, thinking of Mulder and their first night in the Realm when they shared his nightmare. "Does she tell you what they're about?" She shook her head. "No. I don't know if she can't say what they're about, or if she just won't say." "You think she's deliberately not telling you?" Scully asked doubtfully. "I don't know. I really don't know. But she spends too much time alone, seeking out opportunities to withdraw, and puts herself into a kind of trance or something, and I feel so cut off from her. At night when she wakes up with the nightmares, she's screaming 'No, No!' and struggles wildly until she finally comes around. Then we ask her what the bad dream was, and she gets very quiet. Scully, it's strange - sometimes she acts like she's as old as the hills. She behaves more like - like Corvay - than a child of less than five summers! She gets very self-possessed and says that everything is all right now. That she will take care of everything and that we can go back to sleep." Aldara threw her hands up in the air. "I just don't know what to make of it." "Have you tried a healer? If you're afraid of some sort of...disquiet...of her mind, a healer might be able to help," suggested Scully hesitantly. "I know as a healer in my world, there are maladies which might explain Daanna's behavior." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and pushed her plate away, almost untouched. Absently, she twisted the ring that Andalor had given her around her finger. Its stone, normally a rich green and golden brown cat's eye, looked almost black. "Maybe. I think I've just been hoping that there really isn't a problem. But Daanna seems more distracted every day." Aldara's voice trailed off. "Also, I think I would want Corvay himself to see her, and I haven't really wanted to ask him - he seems so frail lately." Head pounding, Scully thought about the diminutive old elf. He was doing less and less healing lately. She knew what few others in the Realm did, that Corvay was seeing Kyla daily, not to teach but to receive healing treatments. She was worried about her mentor. He looked like he was losing weight from his already spare frame. "How old is Corvay, anyway?" Aldara shrugged. "I don't know - I don't think anybody does. He's just always been here. Even Reinald doesn't remember him as being anything but old. I don't know - maybe a couple hundred season-cycles?" "Two hundred...." Scully was amazed. As a healer, she could recognize the aging process, even retard it to a degree. But when she thought about it, she realized that she didn't have the faintest idea of the normal lifespans of any of the Realm beings. "Actually, you look like you need Corvay or Kyla yourself, Scully. Your hands are shaking and you keep rubbing your shoulder." "Yeah, it hurts like hell for some reason. I must have strained it when we broke up Shannon's little fight with Yurka yesterday. Why my hands are shaking I have no idea. I've tried to look into myself as a healer since I started feeling lousy. I don't know if it's because I'm not doing it right, or my concentration is poor, or I'm missing something because I'm not sure what I'm looking for, or what. I can't really detect anything wrong. I just know that I feel strange. If I didn't know better...." She was silent for some moments. "If you didn't know better, what?" Aldara prompted, looking anxiously at her friend. "Well, I know in my world when Mulder and I were separated by distance, after a while we would both start to feel ill. But those were huge distances, and the symptoms were milder, and appeared only after we were apart for several days." She rubbed the skin on her arms, trying to dispel the odd sensations there. "I started feeling tense and irritable when Mulder had been gone only a couple of candlemarks. And he's not gone far - it's only a bit over a day's ride. No distance at all, really, compared to our world. Our communication's been affected, too. It's not really even communication, it's more like vague sensations. I know I'm not concentrating well right now, so that might explain part of it. But from the images I was able to receive before it became nearly impossible, my guess is that something is up with Mulder, too. Aldara, I wonder - could these strange sensations actually have to do with our lifebond? Reinald said once that it might." "You know you should get it checked out. Let me go and bring back Kyla." "No! By the Goddess, Aldara, leave it alone!" Again, Scully controlled her temper only with effort. More softly, her voice shaking slightly, she said, "No, Aldara, I'll go there - tomorrow. I'd feel silly sending for her, this isn't an emergency. If my shoulder still feels bad in the morning, and if I'm still feeling out of sorts, I'll go see Kyla. Thank you for dinner, Aldara. See you tomorrow." She began walking to the door. "Scully, are you sure...Scully!" Aldara cried out. She sprang from her seat to catch her friend before she slumped to the floor. - - - - - Moments later, the only sounds that could be heard were the fading hoofbeats and clatter of the wagon. Dazed, the crowd began to get shakily to their feet and assess their injuries. Sensing a wriggling motion under him, Mulder began to roll, to free the priestess from what she undoubtedly found an uncomfortable position, both physically and personally. Agony seized his right shoulder and he bit his lip to keep from groaning. He completed the roll with difficulty and the priestess pulled herself to her feet. Clasping his arm, he lay on the cobblestones, his face white with pain under the streaks of dirt and sweat. Shit! A sprain for sure, possibly a separation, he thought with startling clarity. Been there, done that - and now I've gone and done it again. Scully's going to kill me, he told himself ruefully. Damn it! Suddenly, a scream was torn from the throat of an elderly female elf. "Evalto! Goddess save him! Evalto!" She was joined by another. "Aieee! And Klasti! Help! Someone find a healer! Quickly!" Two crumpled bodies lay motionless on the cobblestones, and from all over the square the cries of the outraged began to be heard. From out of the buzz of the crowd, one voice was raised. "Human filth!" The voice was thunderous, coming from so small a figure as the old elf. His face was dark with hatred and contempt as he jumped up on the monument to be seen. "Was it not enough that you burned down Anosi's farm? That you attacked him? Now you take advantage of our hospitality to shed more elf blood? No more!" The clenched fists and furious call to arms began to be taken up by others. "Death to the humans! Cleanse our village of the human scum!" "Kill them - kill them all!" "Remember what they did to Anosi - don't let them get away with it!" Then humans began to take up their own battlecries, as ringleaders emerged to whip the Cresscreek villagers into a frenzy of hate. "Kill the treacherous elves!" "Squash the pointy-eared little bastards!" Were these creatures never to accept the idiocy of their so- called cause? Clutching his shoulder, Mulder rolled to his feet as Urielle leapt past him to a stone bench. With all the strength she had left, she shouted, "NO! No, please, by the Goddess, don't do this! It was an accident!" But her desperate words were lost in the wave of violence, as humans and elves now scattered not for safety, but to grab the weapons that had been strewn all over the square by the rampaging horses. Mulder watched as she tried repeatedly to summon her powers to dispel some of the hatred. But the bloodlust was too strong. Her face draining of all color, she sank limply to the cobblestones of the square. Mulder ran over to her prostrate form and, grabbing her awkwardly around the waist with his left arm, moved her into the elders' cottage where she would be out of the fray. His ears registered Jourdain's vain calls for order. When he emerged from the structure, Jourdain was with his troops. They had maneuvered themselves between the advancing mobs and were now struggling fiercely to keep elf and human from each others' throats and not be killed in the process. He had had enough. The long, miserable ride. The separation from Scully. The vain efforts of the little priestess. All for nothing. All for these stupid, bloodthirsty creatures. "STOP!" The ground shook with the power of Mulder's voice and his aura flared with a blue-white heat. But despite the inhuman volume of his command, the lines of villagers continued to advance on each other, cutting into Jourdain's troops to reach their bloodsworn enemies. Scythes and hammers danced in the air, about to perform a grotesque ballet of death. Emotions of the populace at a fever pitch and control close to shattered, Urielle would not be able to help further. Suddenly, Mulder felt something snap. The tension and irritability yielded to a bone-deep anger at the hate, the waste, the bigotry, the stupidity of the creatures before him, ready to spill each others' blood. Centering himself, he gathered his powers together. Lights sparkled before his eyes and his ears were filled with a terrible roaring sound. Reaching deep within himself, he found a tiny diamond-bright speck of light. He could feel his thoughts coalesce into a single laser-potent beam and was lost in it, becoming both creator and created. In the cottage, Urielle stirred, hearing the shouts of the mob outside. She got to her feet and took some deep breaths to stop the room from spinning, then cautiously stepped outside the structure. In the deepening gloom thirty meters away she was horrified to see the mobs approaching each other, brandishing weapons and blind with bloodlust. Then, closer and to her right, she caught sight of Mulder, and was astounded. Like most others in the Realm, she knew of Mage Mulder by reputation as one of those chiefly responsible for saving their land from the Dark Creatures. She had heard that he was a powerful magician, and she had seen other Mages at work. But she never expected what was taking place just a short distance away. He stood stock still, a maelstrom of Mage-blue whirling about him. His eyes were half open, with only the whites showing. His face darkened by a scowl of concentration, his lips and cheeks twitched as though he were carrying on a conversation with someone only he could see. Slowly he raised his arms - his right stiffly, awkwardly - and his graceful hands began to fashion small, intricate movements. Between them suddenly appeared a tiny but brilliant point of light. The illumination cast diabolical shadows, transforming Mulder's usually mild features into something terrifying and unrecognizable. Surely, thought the priestess, surely anything that bright must burn like fire. The light became brighter still as it grew in size, finally forcing Urielle to look away or be blinded. Still Mulder's hands kept moving, as if shaping the terrible light like molten metal in an unearthly crucible. The sky darkened further and the blackness was split by forks of lightning as thunder rumbled, shaking the very earth. And when the thunder had ended, the earth continued to rumble, then to pitch, throwing the feuding elves and humans from their feet. With a horrendous cracking sound and then a roar, a split opened up between the cobblestones of the square and widened into a crevasse two meters wide, separating the two factions. Jourdain's men leapt back, as each successive rumble of thunder was answered by another deeper, more ominous rumble of the earth, and the fissure grew in length and breadth, cutting the courtyard in two. Even the warring villagers now stopped their frenzied efforts to join in battle to look open-mouthed in awe at what was happening around them. The storm intensified as a fierce wind whipped into little maelstroms, tearing at their clothes, ripping their weapons from their fists. Blue sparks popped like the sound of machine gun fire around Mulder's body. Suddenly, the brilliance between his hands grew a thousandfold against the black sky. With an abrupt motion, he threw his arms high above his head, heaving the light from his hands to hover twenty meters in the air over the combatants, where it burst into an enormous fireball. Not one of Mulder "recreational" balls of blue light, this was an inferno, huge, hot and lethal, suspended by his powers over the battling village. The crowd instinctively shrank back from the heat of it, gasping as they cringed in like terror. Still the storm went on, now continuous lightning and rolling thunder, the wind deafening the assemblage, the fireball casting a hideous illumination over the cowering beings and the crevasse down the center of the square. Finally, when it seemed that the sound could get no more terrible, Mulder made a quick motion, extending his arms in front of him. There was a final deafening crash, followed by dead silence except for the crackle of the flames suspended above the crowd. Tentatively, Urielle approached Mulder. His eyes still appeared to be rolled back in his head. His arms, though shaking from the effort, were held out stiffly, his long fingers curved like talons. He was deathly pale, so much so that the priestess anxiously reached out a hand to touch his face. Reflexively, she yanked it back, examining her fingers for burns, so hot was his flesh. He gave no outward indication that he was aware of her presence. Gazing wonderingly from him to the ball of flame over their heads, she sensed a sort of mental nudge. Twice more she felt the sensation, each nudge firmer, more urgent than the last, before finally she understood. "You wish me to speak to them!" she whispered, awed. Automatically she looked to him for some sort of confirmation, and noted with alarm that he seemed to be straining harder to maintain his spell. Quickly she climbed once more up to the base of the monument, this time unassisted except by her desire to do his bidding before he was unable to hold the spell any longer. "People of Fawnleaf and Cresscreek! See how you are held in thrall, for you have broken your bond of faith with your Goddess and with your brothers. No Mage of our world can work such wonders, but with the help of the Goddess. She works through Mage Mulder now to bring you this message. Your hate is an affront to her, and your violence brings her great sorrow. Know you from this time onward - your war is anathema to her and she is losing her loving patience. If you turn from her love and protection, you risk unimaginable terrors - horrors that make today appear as a gentle summer rain. Accept her love, and love each other, lest you abandon yourselves to those horrors from which you will not escape!" She cast a quick glance at Mulder. Tears mingled with rivulets of sweat running down his cheeks, and he was trembling violently now. "Good people - the Goddess will be watching you. Go now in peace. Act as She would act and prosper in Her love!" Silently, she added her own prayers. She was startled by a hand on her arm and her eyes flew open. Jourdain assisted Urielle down from the monument. "Get back into the cottage, priestess. With the Goddess's help, they'll heed your words, but just in case - " With a silent orange flash, the fireball disappeared. Seconds later, edges of the fissure in the center of the square began to move closer together until with a final grating noise, the rift was sealed. Slowly, the humans and elves in the square began to regain the use of their limbs and voices. Jourdain watched carefully, finally satisfied that the weapons were staying on the ground. Some of the former adversaries were shamefacedly hugging or grasping each other's forearms in a universal gesture of peace. Others were silently gathering their families and going back to their homes. Finally, a healer was attending the gravely injured of both species. Grieving family members surrounded the bloody, twisted bodies of Evalto and Klasti, but no cries for vengeance were uttered. With a slight gesture he signaled to his men to help where they could and stay alert for trouble. Then he turned his attention to Mulder. The Mage stood, shoulders shaking, panting and gasping for air. As if in slow motion, his knees began to crumple, and Jourdain rushed to his friend's side in time to lower him gently to the ground. The heat emitted from Mulder's body frightened him, and he called to the healer, who quickly made his way over to where the Mage lay. "No, not yet," gasped Mulder hoarsely, holding the healer at bay. "Is everything all right, has the fighting stopped?" "Yes, Mage. It appears you are in the business of saving us from ourselves as well as from our enemies." Jourdain took a corner of his tunic and gently wiped the sweat and grime from Mulder's face. "You are burning up, my friend. Are you ill?" Weakly, Mulder shook his head. He was prevented from having to speak by Urielle. "No, Captain, I think it results from his magic - there was no sign of it before. But he hurt his shoulder when he saved me from being run down in the square. And Goddess knows what casting that spell has done to him." While the healer finally began to probe, she held a beastskin of water to Mulder's lips and he drank from it gratefully. Finally, choking a little, he relaxed his head back into Jourdain's arms. He began to feel comfortably drowsy, and after a time the pain in his shoulder abated somewhat. The middle-aged elf finished his ministrations and began to speak. "Captain, I am Shasto, healer of Fawnleaf. The Mage has sprained his shoulder. There is a lot of bruising and swelling, and I have begun the healing process there. But his fever and other ills - I am unfamiliar with their cause and am at a loss to explain them. I have tried to make him more comfortable, but to effect any real cure I would have to find the cause of his malady. And as to discovering the cause...." He shook his head helplessly. "I've never seen anything like it. If it has something to do with his powers, I fear there is little else I can do for him." Jourdain bowed gratefully. "Thank you, Healer. We appreciate all that you have done." He felt Mulder tugging at his arm. He looked down and saw his friend's hazel eyes looking at him with something like pleading. Jourdain bent low to hear the words Mulder could barely utter. "Sc-Scully," he whispered. "Take me home to Scully." He stayed conscious just long enough to see the old warrior nod. End of Chapter Three THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Four The vulture circled lazily at treetop level above the swamp. While it was not feeling the desperate gnawing of hunger in its belly, neither would it pass up the opportunity to feed if one presented itself. Dipping its wings slightly, it soared on a current of air that took it to the darkest, dankest part of the swamp, attracted by the scent of death that always seemed to emanate from there. It spotted a small animal, several days lifeless, lying under some plants and swooped down to investigate further. Landing on the boggy ground, it eyed its reeking meal suspiciously. Instinctively it felt uneasy and peered around, hearing the slither of serpents nearby. A shriek of bone-deep terror shattered the preternatural quiet. The vulture's huge black wings launched it skyward, the carrion clutched firmly in its talons, as it departed to find a less eerie place to dine. A few hundred meters away in the sunless swamp a heavy overgrowth of trees, vines, and rotting plant life effectively concealed a palace of sorts. It was from there that the scream had come. Covered as it was by the overabundant swamp vegetation, the structure beneath would never be observed by a passerby. Not that there would be a passerby. Indeed, this part of Witch Tears Swamp was not burdened with travelers - not for long, anyway. Most tended to believe the tales of horror associated with the area and avoided it as they would their own death. The source of the tales, an impressive castle of blackest stone, lay submerged beneath the plant life like a waterbeast awaiting its prey. There was no road, no path. The few inhabitants of the castle dwelled, worked and died there. It was rare that visitors came, and none left. The most recent guest had been led weeping to his room after his interview. There were no cells. Iron bars were superfluous. The Black Mage always knew where everyone was and what everyone was doing in the castle. Drellor realized without being told that any attempt to escape would be answered with a hideous nightmare not of his making. Still shaking from the experience of the meeting, he was anxious to avoid a closer, more protracted, infinitely more painful encounter. Drellor considered what he had seen of the castle so far. He had been too terrified, too much in shock to notice much of anything, other than the Mage's majestic and evil presence. Torches had hissed and spluttered in sconces along the weeping walls of the noisome corridors he had been escorted through, and two now dimly illuminated his quarters. His chamber was spacious and furnished grandly, even luxuriously. It was dark, the windows so overgrown with vegetation that not a single candle's worth of light could enter. Were it not for the walls covered in mold, mildew and other slime, the accommodations would be fit for a king. The walls, the humidity and the pervasive stench of the castle notwithstanding, the room still represented a distinct improvement over his cell in the dungeons of Fairwoods Keep. Much more in keeping with a person of his station in life. Even the minions here had treated him with respect. Drellor pulled himself up to his full, unimpressive height. Now these were people who recognized his rank and were ready to give him the treatment he deserved as his birthright. Had his brother not been king? Were it not for an accident of birth - and a poor choice of associates - would he not have ruled Fairwoods Domain? For perhaps the thousandth time he bitterly thought of the boy king and his advisor, Reinald. Someday, he thought grimly. Someday. Tearing himself from his musings, he explored his room. His wardrobe had been thoughtfully stocked with elegant clothing suitable for a person of his rank, and a servant came in with water and towels with which to wash. Yes, for now this place would do quite nicely, if he played his cards right. He sat on the bed with its fine, somewhat damp covers and tried to force his mind to come up with some sort of a plan. He certainly didn't trust the Evil One who had brought him here. Drellor was well aware that at the moment he was a pawn, to be used and discarded. What he needed to do was find a way to make himself indispensable, to insure his life. He was sure of one thing, and one thing only. He would prolong his life any way he could until an opportunity presented itself. An opportunity for profit - or revenge. - - - High above Drellor's quarters, a tower room looked out at the treetops. It was a room almost devoid of light, even the hearth throwing little warmth or illumination on the scene. The odor of old blood was overpowering, and the bubbling cauldrons set near the fire did nothing but add to the nauseating stench. On a table sat small bowls and animal skin bags, filled with the makings for potions and poisons. The walls, dimly seen through the gloom, were covered with murals: sick, twisted pictures depicting the most vile and hideous of acts. There was an atmosphere of terror and of palpable evil which seemed to suck out the very oxygen and leave the room unfit for any sort of lifeform. Yet there was One who flourished here. That person, the room's sole occupant, was concerned less with the amenities of the chamber than with the hematite sphere she gazed into. Not a crystal ball, the sphere did not project scenes like an Oracle Cloud. Rather, it helped to magnify and channel energies into a sixth sense, vestigial in all but the most powerful Mages. Using this sense with the sphere, images would appear to the mind, rather than to the eye. The Evil One sat leaning forward in the high-backed wooden chair, feet propped up on a footstool. The ornate carvings which covered both pieces of furniture took their theme from the murals on the walls and were profane in the extreme. The sphere rested lightly in the palms of her hands, the long fingers with their blood-red nails curved over the cold orb. Peering into it, she sensed with anticipation two different groups of people in a village square, their hatred carrying an aroma so delicious she could almost taste it. She looked on, eagerly awaiting the blood spill that must certainly follow. A low voice intruded and her brows furrowed in annoyance. She looked on in increasing anger as the words went on. "Bitch!" she spat out contemptuously. Why could those damned priestesses never mind their own business? Slamming the orb down in its stand on a nearby table, she paced the room, the black cape lined with Mage-blue billowing out behind her, then swirling around her ankles as she turned. Her red lips were curled into a sneer as she contemplated this wrinkle in her plans, for she was determined that it should be no more than that. Suddenly, she stopped, picked up the sphere again and seated herself. A few moments concentration had her back in the village square. She looked around for a likely mark. Forget the priestess. While the irony appealed greatly to her, the little elf was too engrossed in her own words and entrenched in her beliefs to succumb quickly enough. She eyed the captain dismissively. Too controlled and not enough imagination for her to work with - military men never worked well for this kind of spell. Her gaze moved onward. Now this - this could be interesting. She considered the tall man in the Mage-cape. Who was this? Certainly no one known to her. She was acquainted with all the Mages born of the Realm, or had thought so. Eyes narrowing, she looked closer, assessing this new Mage and trying to come to an idea of his strength. She sensed a powerful pure blue aura that stung her eyes, and didn't know which disturbed her more - its power or its purity. Definitely a force to contend with - or perhaps contend FOR, she thought with a slight upturning of her lips. But not now, not now. She filed away his aura for future reference, imprinting it on her mind. Turning from the Mage, she looked quickly over the crowd, then impatiently gave up looking for a human or elf to carry her message. Their hatred had faded, had become weaker, dilute. Without the emotion to work with, it would take her too long for what she had planned. Instead she seized on a team of horses, willing them to sense a pack of soul-eaters. Carefully, deliberately, she imparted the image to the steeds - ferocious hungry soul-eaters stalking them, now surrounding them on three sides. Saliva dripping from their enormous fangs - fangs that would soon sink through their skin, tear at their flesh, drip with their blood. Getting closer and closer now, their fetid breath filling the air they inhaled. And about to cut off their only avenue of escape.... A low cackle of delighted laughter started deep in her throat and broke from her lips as she sensed the terrified horses and the wagon careening through the square spreading death, destruction and best of all, as she now observed, hatred. Hatred that would go on creating more death and destruction. "You're out of your depth, priestess," she hissed. "Go back to your forest." Her moment was only slightly spoiled by the fact that the priestess was not crushed by the runaway wagon. The hate and the fear - they were like meat and wine to her. And soon there would be plenty of blood on which to feast. This was what she craved - the chance to gorge on these emotions and the blood that was produced by them. Again, her face lit up in anticipation of the blood that would now surely splash on the memorial to the fallen and flow between the cobblestones of the square. She smiled, her lips drawn back ferally from white teeth. Ah, life could be so satisfying, sometimes. Suddenly she hissed, inhaling sharply as she felt a stabbing pain deep in her chest. Her hands slipped, juggling the sphere. With an effort, she regained control. Panting lightly, she tried to quell the pain but couldn't. What was happening to her? She should be feasting on the bloodshed, but instead this agony was tearing her apart! An oily sweat broke out on her brow. Only once before had she felt such pain, but that was when.... No, that was impossible, that pain was only associated with.... Angrily she shook her head. No, it couldn't be happening. He would fail. He MUST fail. The physical pain and the pain of disappointment would be too much to bear. He was too youthful. He could not possibly have the power, the character, the strength, and the knowledge to do this. Tensely she watched as the young man cast his spell with a sureness, a skill present in only the most powerful Mages. Barely breathing, she sensed it all. The thunder and lightning. The creation of the huge fireball. The cleaving of the very earth in two! How did he manage that? Surely, that was one of the Lost Powers, unknown in living memory! She sensed the terror and paralysis of the mobs, the priestess's exhortation. And as she watched, her eyes grew wide. Finally, with the young Mage's collapse, the pain in her chest was gone. But deprived of her bloodfeast, the pain of her dashed plans was sharper than her physical discomfort had been. All faded to smoke as, spent, she slumped back in her chair, letting the sphere roll from her hands unheeded to rest in her lap. A force to contend with. Indeed. - - - - - "OPEN THE GATES!!!" Jourdain cried at the top of his lungs, racing ahead of his men towards the castle gates. His horse was sweating, beads of moisture dripping across its skin. Jourdain's own lungs stung with the effort to draw air, his entire body aching from the long day's ride. While he kept himself in shape, it had been years since he had been subjected to such demands on his physical strength. But with Mage Mulder an unconscious burden in the litter borne aloft between four of the soldiers, his own weariness was of little concern. Guards scurried along the castle wall, the edges of their shouts pricking at Jourdain's wind-burned ears as he drew in closer to the still-barred gate. Unwilling to slow down, he urged his horse forward, the gasp of relief stinging his throat as he saw the massive doors begin to slide open. Praying for one last surge of energy from his exhausted steed, he aimed for that opening and found it, racing into the courtyard at breakneck speed. His horse reared up as he yanked hard on the reins, pulling up to a stop. Two young soldiers were there to grab the bridle and hold the excited animal still while Jourdain slid roughly to the ground. He barely stifled the groan which rose in his throat as his muscles complained vigorously. "I'm getting too old for this!" he muttered to himself, before turning to issue a rapid-fire series of commands. Already, his troop was clearing the gate, carrying the still form of the wounded Mage between them like a trophy. "Easy!" Jourdain ordered, fiercely, as they began to set the litter down on the ground. But Mulder was unresponsive, unmoving, even when an irritable horse shied too far to one side, almost tumbling him off one side of the make-shift litter. When they finally got him settled, Jourdain knelt down beside his senseless friend and reached out with callused hands to lift up the dark head and cradle it gently. "Where is that twice-cursed healer!" Jourdain bit the words out through clenched teeth, violent emotional threatening to break through his normally implacable exterior. "Right here, Captain," Kyla told him patiently, coming to a crouch on the other side of Mulder's body. Her flaxen hair was uncharacteristically loose, flowing around her large-boned body in golden waves. She tossed it out of her face with unconcealed annoyance, then stretched out her hands to touch Mulder's forehead. Watching her enter the Healing Trance, Jourdain belatedly realized that she must have been called from her bed to help Mulder, and he felt a brief stab of remorse for having insulted her, however accidental it may have been. He didn't waste time with an apology now, as such things could wait until the emergency was over, but the honorable man stored away the debt to be paid later. Kyla crooned for a moment longer, then broke off abruptly. Jourdain stared at her in surprise, and she met his gaze with eyes that were dilated with shock and uncertainty. "What is it?" he demanded, panic striking hard within his breast. She merely shook her head. "I don't know." She frowned, her jaw tight with frustration. She spread her hands wide, and echoed her own words. "I don't know!" "Bring him inside!" That instruction came in a high- pitched voice that faltered on the last syllable, yet never lost its imperative. Both soldier and healer turned in surprise to see the tiny, aged figure of the Court Healer, Corvay, standing before them. He pointed a once delicate, but now gnarled and twisted hand at them. "There is no time to waste! You must bring him to his bondmate at once!" Jourdain took barely another second to make his decision. Sweeping down to scoop Mulder's unconscious body into his massive arms, he then struggled to reach his feet. Before he could make it half-way, Kyla moved to assist him, slipping her arms beneath his to help hold Mulder aloft. Together, they raised him upwards and carried him across the yard and into the castle. Aldara was waiting for them at the door to Scully and Mulder's room. Her thin, sharply-boned face was drawn and anguished, the usually bright color in her cheeks drained to a pale rose. Her vivid emerald eyes seemed even larger than normal, filling her entire face, and her expression was one of barely restrained panic. "Quickly!" she urged, holding the door wide while her husband and Kyla carried Mulder across the threshold and into the warm, brightly lit room. Shifting sideways, they brought Mulder to the huge bed and gently deposited him onto one side. Jourdain took a moment to straighten Mulder's long limbs, only afterwards noticing the small figure tucked beneath the heavy sheets on the other side of the bed. "Dear Goddess," he moaned, turning to meet his wife's sorrowful eyes. "What happened?" Aldara shook her head, sending her mane of ebony curls tumbling across her shoulders with the motion. "I wish I knew. One moment we were talking, the next, she just fell to the ground. She has not woken since, and that was last evening." Jourdain swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly parched throat. He had been relying on Scully to heal her bondmate. But if she was ill as well.... "The only guess I can make," Kyla said, looking abruptly smaller than her size as she stood helplessly at the bedside, "is that when one of them was harmed, the other was also affected." Jourdain nodded, running a broad hand through his graying hair. "I've seen Mage Mulder do some amazing things over the years, but this... It was awe-inspiring, frightening. So much power flowing through him at once, it still makes me shudder to think of it. He seemed to be able to control it, but it must have weakened him too much." Kyla sighed, again brushing long strands of hair from her eyes. "He must have...somehow...taken strength from her. Or perhaps, she simply shared his reaction. Such things have happened between lifebonded couples before, but never to this extent. But then, never have we seen a lifebonded Mage before either. The combination is unknown. I have no knowledge or experience to draw upon." "There's got to be something you can do!" Jourdain protested. "Or what about Corvay? He seemed certain that Mulder should be brought in here." "They must be together," Corvay answered for himself, appearing like a wraith in the doorway. His skin was like faded parchment, his burning eyes the only sign of life in his aged body. "Their bond is their greatest strength, and it alone can bring them healing. The separation has weakened them, stretched their life- force too thin across the distance." A low moan from the bed behind them stole away the ancient healer's audience, as all eyes flew to the man and woman asleep on the bed. Together, they watched with astonished eyes, as Mulder turned over, reaching out a trembling hand to touch Scully's shoulder. The contact seemed electric, even to the observers, creating a bright blue flare of light from the Mage's previously dull sapphire ring. Scully moaned in response, shifting, wriggling, until she was able to nestle herself against her partner's chest. Never once did she open her eyes. Mulder, too, appeared to move as one possessed, unaware, yet certain - drawing closer in around Scully. It was as though some invisible force drew them together, pushed at their unconscious limbs, bringing them closer until they were folded up in each other's arms. - - - - - Scully tensed as she awoke, half-expecting the throbbing behind her eyes to start once again. Tentatively, she stretched and her hand encountered the warm smooth silk of skin not her own, and her eyes opened. She snuggled closer into that welcoming warmth, then she bolted up to a seated position. Mulder lay beside her, deeply asleep. She studied him as he breathed evenly, a slight frown furrowing his brow. His eyes darted in REM sleep but his generous lips remained relaxed and slightly parted. Scully instinctively leaned over to kiss his forehead, the physical proximity bringing her in closer contact with his mind and, inadvertently, with the dream he was having. Blushing slightly, she left his mind and added an item to the list of things she wanted to experience - soon. Just when she thought they had done it all - but then, Mulder was full of surprises. But right now, there were deeper questions to be answered. The last thing she remembered was talking with Aldara after Mulder had left. She frowned, biting at her lower lip, even as she curled up against his side. She remembered the conversation clearly, as well as a sense of irritable unease, which seemed now to have fled her completely. Instead, she felt a remarkable sense of peace and serenity, so strong that it held back the immediate panic created by her knowledge that something had happened to her which she did not remember. There was a sense of motion behind her, and she turned over, only to find herself staring into Aldara's grinning face. "Hi," Scully offered, returning a small smile of her own. She sobered quickly, as did her friend, who was perched on the top of the ladder used by the smaller Realm residents to climb into the favored high beds. Scully gestured that she was ready to get up, and Aldara got down quickly, relocating to the chairs set in front of the fireplace, even now sparkling with a roaring fire. Scully lingered, however, for a long moment, unwilling to go even a few feet away from her sleeping lover. She brushed the long dark bangs off of his temples, then drew a tender finger across his full lips. Finally, she forced herself up and away, clambering carefully down to join Aldara in front of the fire. "What happened?" Scully asked, running her hands through the bright red tangle of her hair. Aldara eyed the flame- colored tresses with long-familiar envy, then spoke carefully. "What do you remember?" Scully sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Not much past our dinner last night." Aldara shook her head, sending ripples through her own dark curls. "I'm afraid that was not last night but the night before that. You've slept for almost two days." "What?" Scully was shocked, her blue eyes widening. Aldara grimly nodded. "You just fell over without warning. I was terrified, especially when Kyla could not find a reason. If that weren't bad enough, Reinald reported a few hours later that Jourdain was rushing Mulder back here from Fawnleaf as quickly as they could ride. They had settled the situation there as best as can be for the present, but the fighting had been serious enough to force Mulder to expend too much power in order to gain control - and that after he had already been wounded trying to protect the priestess, Urielle." "Wounded?" Scully got to her feet and raced back to the bed. Her initial exam found Mulder sound - and healthily - asleep, the only 'wrongness' in his body's aura centered on his shoulder. It had been helped along already, she noticed, but the healing was still incomplete. With a little effort, she gathered her thoughts and mental focus, entering his body to check on the progress his shoulder was making. She urged the white cells to increase in speed and number and found a few tiny capillaries to cauterize before the extensive bruising worsened. She sensed his sleep becoming lighter and as she exited his body found him smiling drowsily at her. He bent his head slightly to bring their lips in contact, and she felt her body respond to him as it always did. A tickle of electricity stung her mouth where it contacted his, then worked its way down her spine to pool in her groin. Sighing into his throat, she eased herself down into his open and welcoming arms, pressing her body against the solid length of his. Twining the fingers of her right hand into the thick dark silk of his hair, she kissed him long and deep, feeling the muscles of his body tense and flow beneath her. A musical laugh behind them broke the moment, and Scully buried her face into Mulder's neck, her cheeks burning. Damn, she'd done it again. An intensely private person, she hated displaying her emotions publicly, and yet here she was, for the second time in barely more days, crawling all over her lover in full view of other people. Mulder for his part, simply returned Aldara's chuckle, winking at her over Scully's fiery head. He squeezed Scully once, then released, biting down a groan as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Scully responded instantly, restraining him firmly, while she adjusted the pillows, then guiding him upwards slowly into a position that would not further stress his mending shoulder. He closed his other hand over the sore joint, and gave her a heart- wrenching wounded look. All set to give him a pre-memorized lecture on getting himself hurt - AGAIN - Scully found herself unable to avoid laughing at him. Tousling his bangs, she grinned at him. "It's not THAT bad, Mulder. By tomorrow you shouldn't feel it at all." He pouted at her, thrusting out that full lower lip, then his mouth and his entire expression sombered. Aldara had perched herself on the edge of the 4-foot-high bed, her short legs dangling off the edge, while Scully had seated herself beside him, cross- legged. He gazed from one to the other, then sighed and shoved the dark strands of hair out of his eyes, and asked the inevitable question. "All right, what happened?" Aldara filled him in much as she had Scully with the spare news she had. "Jourdain and Reinald can tell you the rest, they both want to see you as soon as you feel up to it," she finished. Mulder nodded grimly. "Tell them I'll meet them in Reinald's work room ... umm...this afternoon?" Aldara smiled. "Make that tonight. I'll tell Reinald to expect you for dinner. In the meantime, I'm sure you two have a lot to TALK about." Accompanied by the lilting chime of her laughter and a well-aimed pillow-toss from Scully, Aldara scrambled down the ladder and out of the room. After the door had shut behind the small half-elf, Scully uncrossed her legs, and turned to sit facing Mulder, leaning against his knees. He reached out to take her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for a brief kiss. She stroked his jaw with a light fingertip, then let her hand fall against his chest. "Mulder, I'm worried." He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him quickly. //Let me finish.\\ He answered with a wave of emotion, love and support tinged with his own anxiety. She tilted her head to the side, then returned to verbal speech. The mind-speech between them had become a familiar, even comfortable form of communication, yet they still inevitably turned to audible conversation when they had something serious to discuss. Somehow putting the thoughts into words functioned to clarify and focus their thoughts, often leading them to possible solutions "For months now, whenever I've been apart from you I've felt uneasy, even getting physically ill if we're too far apart for too long. But it's never gone past a slight case of the flu until now. It's getting worse, Mulder. When you left for Fawnleaf, I started feeling itchy in less than a couple of candlemarks. You weren't even that far away, but I felt ready to start climbing the walls. And it wasn't the weakness that I felt in our world. This was more like, well, like a raging case of PMS." His eyes twinkled, but before he could say a word, she stung his mind. //Don't even THINK it, Mulder!\\ Mulder sent her a wave of aggrieved innocence, and then the warmth of his amusement. //Who me?\\ Then his mind-touch settled into rueful understanding. "Me too, actually. By the time we settled for the night, I was snapping at everyone. The slightest inconvenience seemed like a major burden, and I simply couldn't sit still. I'm sure I drove everyone crazy! I mean, you know me, Scully, I'm a raging insomniac at the best of times." Abruptly, he flashed a brilliant toothy grin at her, "Well, with certain exceptions. But this was awful. I tossed and turned all night long; didn't get any sleep at all. So by the time we got to Fawnleaf I was irritable and angry at everyone. I almost singed those arrogant elves, just for a minor rudeness. And when fighting broke out...I simply exploded." A frown darkened his usually pleasant features, the strong bone structure hardening into a forbidding sculpture. "This power of mine...." He spread out his hands between them, letting his power swell into a vivid blue flame which roiled and sparked across his long, elegant fingers. "Maybe I've never taken it quite seriously enough. Last time we were here, there was so much to learn so quickly, and then I just had to do what needed to be done. There was never time to think about it. And when we returned to our world, even though I could still feel some small sparks of the ability, it was so faint and hard to focus, that it didn't quite seem real. But now, Scully, I'm beginning to be a little frightened by it. I could have hurt someone, or worse, just because I was annoyed about not having you at my side." //Oh Mulder, you wouldn't have!\\ Her love and understanding washed over him, even as her sapphire eyes darkened. "Mulder, you'd never hurt anyone unless it was absolutely necessary." "God, I hope not," Mulder replied. "But I'm not so certain that I know how to judge my own strength. Reinald and Tarnor have had years of practice maintaining control. Mages are trained here almost from the moment they are born to keep from lashing out in anger or by accident. I've only had a fraction of that training, yet I seem to have more power running through me than I can begin to comprehend. I'm scared by it, Scully. I'm afraid I'm going to lose control." "Mulder...." She took hold of his hands, a small part of her mind marveling at the blue flame as it coursed upwards from his fingers over hers, bathing her arms in a gentle heat. "You have to believe in yourself. You're stronger than you think you are, and you're not alone. I'm always with you, and you've got Reinald and Tarnor to help you learn how to handle it. Have you talked to Reinald about this?" Mulder banished the blue flame with a quick unspoken command, then he shook his head with some embarrassment. "No, not really. We spend a lot of time working on my shielding and focus, and he often talks of how important it is to stay in control, but I didn't want to worry him. He's got so much else to deal with right now." "I don't think he'd mind sparing you the time," Scully told him. "He cares about you a lot and if anyone can understand your concerns, it would be Reinald. Actually, I think we should both talk to him. I'm more concerned about the problems we're having with being separated than about your blasting some obnoxious Dordinal guard because he looked at you the wrong way." Mulder smiled ruefully, appreciatively at her. "Maybe...though it's probably a good thing a few of the Bureau idiots didn't fall into the Realm with us. I could think of a couple that I wouldn't mind turning into toads just for the sheer pleasure of it!" Scully laughed, delighted to see his irrepressible sense of humor reassert itself. She shook her head at him, sending bright ripples through her hair as she moved. "Even so, Mulder, we've got a serious problem if we can't be apart for a few hours, much less overnight, without losing our ability to function rationally." "You're right," he said, sighing. "We can bring it up tonight. Maybe we ought to send Corvay an invite, and the Professor as well. He's been making a pretty good study of magic lately, maybe he'll have a new angle on things." "I'll take any idea that works. Not that I mind needing to stay close to you...." Scully's smile could have warmed the room on its own, making the fire sparking behind its screen pale in comparison. Mulder felt his groin tense in response. //I can't say I mind that much myself,\\ he mind-spoke to her, the words colored by the heat of his passion. All conversation fled them for a few long moments, as he leaned forward to kiss her, letting his lips linger against the sweetness of hers, reveling in the soft perfume of her skin pressed so close to his own. When they finally came up for air, he stroked her hair, turning to stare up at the small window leaking bright sunshine into the room. "What time is it, anyway?" Both knew he was speaking in approximate terms. The Realm had no way to measure time precisely, and indeed, saw no need to do so. "Probably close to noon I'd guess, from what Aldara said," Scully responded. She looked at him with concern. "How do you feel? Are you hungry?" "Fine. And more thirsty than hungry, I think. My shoulder's still sore. But I'm just very happy to be here." He circled his arms around her and held her as close as his aching limbs would permit. "Think you feel strong enough to hear what your halla has been up to?" Scully asked with a mischievous grin. Mulder groaned. "Shannon? What now?" Scully smiled to herself. Mulder liked to pretend that being Shannon's taabsut brought one trial after another. She knew this to be a good-natured fiction - the two were extremely close and had a warm, trusting relationship. She told him about Shannon's fight with Yurka, how it had gotten out of hand, and how the teen had used magic when she felt herself cornered. "Magic? Are you sure?" "Oh, yeah, it was magic all right. And I swear it was completely inadvertent, Mulder. She seemed as surprised as anyone. And if so...." "If so, we have a problem," he finished for her. "She needs to be trained - before she hurts herself or someone else." Scully nodded. "She's also been seeing a lot of Andalor lately." "You're afraid she might use magic on him?" he asked incredulously. "Well, maybe less that kind of magic," she sighed, "and more the usual kind that occurs between boys and girls of that age." "Or maybe even our age?" Mulder murmured. He cupped her breast and kneaded it lightly as his lips grazed her neck. She arched her back slightly to increase the contact between her flesh and his and a soft gasp escaped her lips. //I love you.\\ Neither could tell whose thought it was, where it had originated, but it didn't matter because they shared it. His fingertips moved across her nipple, barely brushing it until she was wild from want. He shut out her thoughts, her need, before finally taking the aching tip into his mouth. Scully moaned gently as first his tongue laved and then his teeth softly nipped at the sensitive bud. //Oh, God Mulder, that's good. That's so good.\\ //You did miss me, didn't you?\\ He smiled impishly, his fingers replacing his lips, which now claimed hers. Her mouth opened to him eagerly, her tongue craving the taste of him, her skin craving the feel of him. She slid a hand under the coverlet to stroke his chest and mirror what his fingers were doing to her nipples. //On the other hand, if this is the greeting I'm going to get after I've gone away, maybe I should do so more often. A little irritability is a small price to pay.\\ he thought playfully. In an instant, Scully had rolled on top of him in response and sat astride his hips. //You're not going anywhere for a while.\\ Mulder loved this, enjoying their passion, especially the occasions when Scully took the lead, directing their lovemaking. Their bond ensured their mutual pleasure, and he exulted in watching his beautiful bondmate lose herself in their loving, her eyes grow smoky dark with arousal and passion for only him. //And what is your pleasure, milady?\\ thought Mulder, his eyes reflecting laughter and love. Before she remembered to shield, her mind drifted back to the dream he had been enjoying just before he woke up. Suddenly aware that she was not alone in her mind, her ivory skin reddened as his eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "I - I really didn't mean to intrude...but I caught a little bit of your dream and I was...it looked...well, I've never done anything like that before and...it kinda looked...interesting...." She trailed off and looked down at him, almost afraid of his reaction. //Why, Scully, I had no idea...are you sure?\\ His face was lit with love and amusement and surprise. He doubted that she would ever stop surprising him. And he was certain that she would always inspire the physical need for her that was overwhelming him right now. Almost shyly, she nodded, more than aware of his body's reaction to her suggestion. "Is it okay?" "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, it's more than okay." He pulled her down to meet his mouth. "Let the games begin." End of Chapter Four THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Five Once food had been set in front of him, Mulder quickly realized that he was far more ravenous than he had thought. Waiting politely for everyone to be served felt like sheer torture, and he had to struggle to keep from literally shoving the savory stew into his mouth. The rich, fluffy bread helped ease the first pangs of hunger, but he still managed to tackle three full helpings of the beef and vegetable laden main dish. //Hungry?\\ Scully sent to him on the wings of her amusement. He made a face at her, without slowing down. //Yes.\\ He responded unrepentedly. //Magic use does that....though,\\ he thought with a mental chuckle while eyeing her appreciatively across the table. //Certain other exertions could also be responsible.\\ She merely grinned at him, before taking another full bite of the still-warm bread. Actually, she thought ruefully, looking down at the bare remains of her second bowl of stew, he had a point. Of course, it could have been his hunger leaching to her, but still...given the way she was eating, it was good a thing she got so much exercise on a regular basis. Setting down her spoon firmly, she picked up her goblet of wine and turned to listen to the conversation raging between Reinald, the Professor and Corvay as to the physical nature of magic. The Professor's technical terms, grounded in earth-style physics tended to be somewhat incomprehensible to the two Realm elders, but Scully was quickly able to seize the concepts and was soon absorbed in the conversation. It suited her logical, precise mind to see this originally unfathomable force broken down into terms she could understand and accept. Perhaps Mulder had been right when he had told her, so long ago, that maybe magic was simply another natural force, like electricity and gravity, that could be studied, understood and quantified in a rational manner. In any case, she was glad to be in this company, drawing strength and comfort from it. She was especially happy to see her old mentor. Corvay looked pale and shrunken, yet his eyes gleamed brightly with the force of his personality. Mulder followed along silently, still munching on another chunk of bread, with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. His hunger sated, he was suffused with a sense of well-being. He had his Scully at his side, the firelight dancing on her bright auburn hair, his friends, and his health. Add in a full stomach and the afterglow of a serious bout of lovemaking, and nearly everything was right with his world. Leaning back in his chair, his attention wandered, his eyes drifting over towards his other four dinner companions. Jourdain was looking distinctly bored, though containing his frustration with natural politeness and stolid calm. Every so often, his blue eyes would wander from the rapidly gesticulating Professor or Royal Mage to his wife's tiny, curvaceous form, and his entire expression would lighten. Mulder smiled to himself at one such glance, then let his own gaze move over to the two teenagers deep in their own private conversation. Andalor grinned at one of Shannon's remarks, then leaned forward to respond, his violet eyes brilliant with humor. Shannon groaned loudly at his words, tossing her napkin at him, though not without a peal of laughter. Mulder regarded them thoughtfully, his own instinctive reaction to their obviously growing attachment one of approval and understanding. However, he was also well aware of the complications caused by Andalor's position as King of Fairwood Demesne. Royalty, especially young kings, rarely got a chance to marry for love. Instead the choice often had to be made out of duty and necessity - cementing an alliance or forestalling a rebellion. He wanted nothing more than happiness for both Shannon and Andalor, but he was afraid they might end up hurt. Unaware of Mulder's concerns, his ward and the young king quickly tired of the increasingly fervent discussion of magical theory that held the rest of the table in its thrall. Of course, when Andalor got to his feet in preparation for leaving, everyone else did so as well. The boy smiled at his family and friends, waving at them to retake their seats. When everyone had, he apologized, and excused himself and Shannon, saying they were planning to take a walk and then retire for the evening. Mulder could see Reinald about to utter a protest about Andalor wandering off alone with Shannon, and broke in quickly. "Shannon, could you come see me after your walk? I'd like to talk to you." She frowned at him through a curtain of straight black hair, but he stared firmly at her. "Sure, Taabsut Mulder," she responded, shrugging her well-muscled shoulders, then turned to follow Andalor from the room. Jourdain sighed. "I'm afraid, Mulder, that you may indeed have to have a serious talk with her. If Andalor was anyone other than who he is, I would bless that relationship. And even with things as they are, I find it hard to disapprove. Shannon would make a strong queen." "It cannot be," Reinald sighed, running a distracted hand through his flowing white locks. "As dear as young Shannon is, Andalor must be able to make a marriage for political gain. And such unions are not necessarily devoid of affection or even love. Andalor's parents came to care deeply for one another, and it was their marriage that brought us much needed assistance from her nation during the Dark War." "Surely, they'd have helped anyway," Scully remarked. "If we hadn't stopped the Dark Forces here, the rest of this world would surely have been overrun as well." "True, but such practical good sense does not always apply to politics," Jourdain responded. Mulder chuckled and nodded. Leaning back in his chair, his expression turned thoughtful. "I'll talk to Shannon about it tonight," he said grudgingly, his stomach sinking at the idea. He had been thrown into the job of parenting without any preparation or warning, and a teenage girl, growing rapidly into womanhood, was not the easiest of challenges at any time. Especially, when she had both an intelligence and a stubborn streak that fairly matched his own. Scully sent him a wave of understanding and support. //I can talk to her, too, if need be,\\ she offered. Mulder sent back a wave of gratitude, then turned to Reinald. "Meanwhile, there are a few other things we need to talk about." Reinald nodded gravely. "Perhaps we should retire to the sitting room and have some tea." Conversation was minimal as they got up from the table and moved into Reinald's comfortable private room, drawing chairs up in front of the fireplace. Mulder and Scully settled down on a large divan, while Jourdain offered the Professor and Corvay two large chairs. After he had warmed and served the inevitable tea, Reinald took the remaining chair, forming a half-circle in front of the fireplace, while Aldara curled up on the floor near Scully's feet and Jourdain seated himself between her and the roaring fire. Once everyone was settled and sipping at their tea, Reinald began, "Mulder, perhaps you could tell us more of what happened in Fawnleaf." Mulder grimaced, but nodded. Resting his tea cup against his leg, he spoke softly. "I'm sure Jourdain told you about our arrival. Things were tense, but Urielle was able to calm everyone down, at least for a while." A sudden thought occurred and he glanced over at Jourdain. "Where is she, by the way?" "She decided to remain in Fawnleaf, to preside over the funerals of the two elders who were killed. And to help keep things under control. She thinks that with time and some effort, she can heal the wounds. Though right now, I think the only thing holding back a resurgence of violence is the fear of you returning." Mulder winced. Scully unobtrusively closed her hand over his arm, her mind-touch awash with love and understanding. Her mind-voice, though, was tinged by a familiar frustration. //Stop blaming yourself for everything. They only got what they deserved. And if a little fear keeps them from killing each other, then so be it.\\ The fierceness of her psychic tone won a brief, closed smile from him, then he sighed and turned back to his tale. "We got both villages together and Urielle was trying to introduce some common sense, when suddenly all hell broke loose." The Realm's religions didn't really have a concept of 'hell' in the way Earth Christianity did, so Mulder didn't bother attempting to translate it, instead using the English word which his friends had come to recognize, if not understand, as meaning a great deal of trouble. "Two elders were trampled and killed by runaway horses, and then the next thing I knew everyone was fighting everyone else. Urielle did the best she could, but it was out of control." He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, before looking straight at Reinald. He spread his hands wide. "I guess I got mad. It was all so senseless, and I'd been feeling sick and irritable all day. I can't explain exactly what I did; I didn't plan anything, I just did it. I was just so ANGRY. I remember throwing a lot of Mage-energy around, and then trying desperately to communicate with Urielle that I needed her help. She finally managed to convince them to cease hostilities, and then I managed somehow to release the magic without blasting anyone. The next thing I remember is waking up here." Reinald sighed dramatically. "Yes, it is about as I had thought it had been." He smiled ruefully. "You gave off quite a blast, Mulder. I fear that every Mage on this continent came down with at least a terrible headache. Two of the ones closest to you simply collapsed in their tracks." Mulder jerked forward in his seat. "Are they all right?" he exclaimed. "Yes, yes, they are fine. They'll both need a few days rest and healing, but they are basically unharmed." Mulder's visible stance relaxed noticeably, but Scully could still feel the tension radiating from him. She continued to feed him as much love and reassurance as she could, but she knew he was quickly sinking into one of his depressions. As much as she loved, respected, and adored her bondmate, his ability to shoulder the entire weight of the world sometimes drove her crazy with frustration. Well, not this time, she thought firmly. "Stop it, Mulder!" She deliberately spoke aloud, and five pairs of surprised eyes flew to her determined face. The only person who didn't turn to stare at her was the one she had addressed. He seemed to have found something fascinating about his hands, and was gazing at them as though they might contain the secrets of the universe. //STOP IT!\\ She repeated herself in a loud mental yell, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. His eyes were a deep, almost pure black as they finally met her bright gaze. "What?" he responded, as though he had completely forgotten she was even there. "Stop trying to blame yourself for everything and stop trying to shut me out." "I'm not..." He protested both verbally and psychically, only to receive her best glare in return. He winced, then closed his hand over hers. //I'd never shut you out, Scully.\\ //Liar,\\ she responded, though not without affection. Opening her mind, she flooded him with her emotions: worry, anxiety, love, affection, understanding, frustration, anger....all feeding off each other. //I hate it when you do that. And don't you dare ask me what!\\ She raised a hand between them, underscoring the silent communication with a physical gesture. //You damn well know what. You start burying yourself in your own guilt and unnecessary sense of responsibility, and you ignore me completely.\\ //Scully....\\ //Enough, Mulder!\\ Her anger suddenly abated as she felt his pain wash over her. It wasn't that she didn't feel or understand the reasons for his behavior or the very real nature of his anguish; she did. But she also knew that the only way to knock him out of it was to give him the mental equivalent of a quick kick in the ass. Tough love, she thought, and could only be glad she was already past the tough and ready to give him the love. Her mental sending softened, as did her expression. She cupped his cheek in her palm and leaned towards him. //Mulder, I understand. But you are not doing yourself any good by feeling guilty over this. You did what you had to do, what was expected of you. And if it got a little out of control because you lost your temper, that's okay too. You didn't hurt anyone. So stop trashing yourself for being human. We all get angry sometimes, and you had good reason for it.\\ "But when most people get angry, they don't start thunderstorms or explosions. I could have killed someone." "You didn't," Scully reminded him. "You wouldn't. Mulder, you took great care to make sure no one got hurt." "Maybe, but what if I wanted to hurt someone? I could do terrible damage." "That's very true." Reinald broke in. Both Mulder and Scully looked startled, having forgotten that anyone else was in the room. Reinald leaned forward in his chair and waited until the two were ready to listen. "Mulder, it is good, very good, that you are finally seeing the potential for disaster inherent in your Mage ability." Scully opened her mouth to interrupt, and Reinald shook his head at her. "Wait a moment, my dear, let me finish." He looked sympathetically at Mulder. "I've been waiting for this conversation, though I wish it had come at a less complicated moment." He sighed, smoothing back his white hair. "Unfortunately, I suppose, there are no uncomplicated times anymore. Anyway, Mulder..." He paused, searching for the right words. "What you are going through right now is something that EVERY Mage goes through at some point in their training, well at least any Blue Mage would. The very fact that you can question yourself, and the potential for great damage that exists in your power, is one of the most important factors in qualifying a Mage-trainee to wear the Blue. In fact, it was one of the things holding Grejor back - he saw only his own ambition rather than the consequences of his magic use. And the result was tragic for us all. "Most Mages learn that lesson very young. I've seen cases where it happened in childhood. The more power at someone's disposal, the sooner they must come to that point - the sooner they realize that losing their temper could become a question of life and death. YOU, Mulder, by any right should have dealt with this many many moons ago. But unfortunately, you came to your power as an adult, and circumstances forced me to speed your training in a terribly reckless manner. And this particular lesson is not one that can be forced, or even the time of it chosen for you. You had to come to it when you were ready." Reinald took a deep sip of his tea, then continued. "Alas, I cannot give you a clear answer to your concerns. You must find your own way of coping with the responsibility that your power gives you. You must come to terms with it, and decide for yourself how, when, and under what circumstances you will use the talent - and you must find your own way to control it. For each Mage, those decisions are a little different. So mine will not necessarily work for you." Silence reigned for a moment, then Mulder broke in, his eyes intent on his teacher's face. "What if I don't WANT that responsibility?" Reinald shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option. You were born with the power, and it will always be a part of you. You WILL use it, sooner or later, you cannot help that. The question you must answer is HOW you will use it." He gave Mulder a genuine smile. "My boy, I know you are frightened. It can be an awesome responsibility, especially for one as tremendously gifted as you are. But I have no doubts whatsoever of your ability to do the right thing. I have faith in you, now you must find faith in yourself." "There's no way to shut off the power?" Scully asked. Reinald shook his head. "Not that I know of, at least not without inflicting permanent harm to the Mage." Corvay nodded. "I have seen one or two cases where a serious head injury robbed a Mage of his power, but those poor souls were also afflicted with other damage as well. One never walked again, and the other had serious problems with forming proper language." Mulder groaned aloud. "Forget that," he said wryly. Aldara had been taking this all in with wide-eyed attention. Stirring in her seat, she looked up at Mulder. "When I first saw you really use your power, that day in the practice fields when Wide River was attacked, I was terrified." She swallowed hard, finding the admission hard to make. "I almost ran away and left you there. But afterwards I realized that I had never been in any danger, that you would rather have died than hurt me. Mulder, you know how much I fear the power you wield, but since that day, I've never again feared YOU. You taught me that the power is like a sharp sword. In the wrong hands it can be deadly and terrible, in the right hands, it can do great good. I may not like the power, but I trust you." There were general nods of agreement from everyone in the room. Scully leaned up to kiss Mulder on the cheek. //You're not alone in this, you know. I love you. I'll always be here to help.\\ Mulder turned to kiss her back, then he lifted his chin to rest it on the crown of her head. "I guess I don't have a lot of choice in the matter." "No," Reinald chuckled softly. "But you'll do fine." Still snuggled into Mulder's embrace, Scully thanked Reinald with her eyes, then quietly changed the subject. "There's something else I've been concerned about, and I was hoping you or Corvay might be able to help." "What is bothering you, my dear?" Corvay asked, his dark eyes bright in his aged face. "Mulder's not the only one having trouble with his temper. While he was gone, I found myself getting angry at almost everyone and everything. I felt irritable and tense, and frankly, a little feverish. The longer he was away, the worse it got. We've had minor problems being separated before, in our world, but in those cases we were much further apart and for much longer. This started within a couple of hours of Mulder's leaving." "Describe for me exactly what you felt." Corvay instructed. Scully frowned. "At first I just felt tense. Then I started feeling...well, 'itchy' - like something was crawling up and down my spine. I got really irritable, the slightest problem or inconvenience would make me furious, and I had a hard time speaking kindly to anyone. I couldn't sleep at all. I sat up all night, tossing and turning. Also, I started feeling feverish towards the end. Then, I guess, I finally collapsed." She looked to Aldara for confirmation and received a tight nod in response. Corvay looked thoughtful for a moment, then gazed up at Mulder. "And you, Mulder, did you feel the same?" Mulder nodded. "Yes. Exactly the same. I didn't sleep at all, and I got angry at the slightest provocation. This has something to do with our lifebond, doesn't it?" Corvay sighed, tapping his fingers together. "I believe so, yes. But I cannot tell you more than that. You are the first and only lifebonded Mage I have ever seen. It just never happens. Of course, the life-bonds themselves are rather rare. But even so..." He frowned. "I have heard stories....legends from when I was a child that spoke of such possibilities, but I always assumed they were fictions. Most young women, even today, harbor fantasies of being loved by a good and powerful Mage - it's a romantic fairy tale." Then he grinned up at Scully. "Or so it had been before now." "What did those legends say?" Mulder asked intently, his boundless curiosity engaged. Corvay shrugged. "I can barely remember any of them. Most were standard romantic stories, about a beautiful maiden who falls in love with a good Mage, but is stolen away by an evil one, only to be rescued by her lover." Scully chuckled. "I think such stories are a constant in any culture. In ours it is more often a handsome prince who rescues the woman." Aldara laughed. "Oh, we've got those too." The two women shared a glance of feminine amusement. Mulder ignored the exchange, focusing his green-tinged gaze on Reinald. "Do you have any ideas?" Sadly, Reinald had to shake his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I have heard even less than Corvay. Until you two arrived, I would have sworn it simply wasn't possible for a Mage to form a life-bond." The group was quiet for a few minutes. Slowly, Reinald added, "However, there is one who might help, who might have the information you are seeking." "Who?" Mulder questioned urgently. Reinald leaned forward, speaking with obvious caution. "Be aware that this is only a possibility. Much of what you want to know - what you need to know - is lost in the mists of time and confounded by legend. Your lifebond is unknown except in our legends and prophecies. The man to whom I refer has likewise become a part of our legends. It is nearly impossible to separate myth from truth. I know how much you want to find out about this bond, and just don't want to hold out false hope to you." He looked around at his friends gathered around him, who were rapt in his words. "Any chance is better than none, Mage," said Scully quietly. "It wouldn't be the first time Mulder and I had been on an almost hopeless quest. Tell us more about this man." "His name is Hannu. He is - or was - a Mage of great power and knowledge. Not only a practitioner but one who also studied the powers of magicians, he collected spells from across the Realm. It is reputed that he spent much of his energies in seeking to rediscover the Lost Powers." "Wait a minute," interjected Mulder, his face alive with curiosity. "What are these Lost Powers?" Reinald sighed and good-naturedly began to explain. He had known how the young Mage would react to the subject. "They are powers that are spoken of in our legends, that were the basis of the legendary spells. Unfortunately, no one knows for sure whether they were ever anything BUT legends. Certainly no Mage has possessed these powers for thousands of season cycles. Or it was thought so until yesterday." Mulder slid a glance in Scully's direction. "Yesterday?" he asked weakly. "What else did I do?" Reinald laughed out loud. "My boy, you have set the Mage world on its ears! As if the shock waves from your power-use weren't enough, you also managed to do something that no one else has ever been able to do. Don't you remember making the earth itself split open? The power to make the very earth tremble and open is something that is spoken of only in legend - one of the Lost Powers." "But I didn't mean to," explained Mulder sheepishly. "I lost my temper and it just happened." "I know." The old Mage smiled kindly at his protege. "But it is all the more reason that I believe it is imperative for you to seek out Hannu. If he still exists." "I knew there was a catch, " Scully murmured. Louder, she said, "Where is he supposed to live?" "Hannu retreated from the world a long time ago. The reason is a mixture of conjecture, myth and truth. Who knows how much of each? In any case, something occurred, some shattering incident in his life, and he withdrew. The rumor was that he travelled far from here to become a simple village Mage." Reinald paused. "As I said, it all happened long ago. Anything could have happened in the meantime, especially in view of the devastation wrought by the Dark Creatures." "Did you know him yourself?" Mulder was becoming fascinated with this mystery man who might be able to answer so many questions. Reinald sighed. "No. No, Hannu was alive hundreds of season-cycles before I was even born." Puzzled, Scully began, "Then how could he-" "Still be alive?" Reinald finished for her. "That is even more difficult to believe and shrouded in mystery. At one time he was said to have played a major role in the politics of the Realm. He was a 'young lion', I believe the expression is. Charismatic, powerful, ambitious, but with a purity of aura that almost rivals your own, Mulder. In fact, he was the Royal Mage of his day. Something happened - our legends tell it as a cataclysmic duel between good and evil - and he suddenly disappeared from our land. The whole story became the basis of one of our most-loved legends, the subject of poetry and art and minstrels' songs. Then, relatively recently, it was rumored that he was back. The exact manner of his coming and going has never been explained. But the rumors have been persistent that he came back, to dwell in a remote village. What a waste he retreated from our world," Reinald almost whispered to himself. He sat for several minutes, lost in thought. "Do you have any idea where he may be?" Scully probed gently. "Hm? Oh, well, an idea, but not much more than that. Somewhere beyond the Greenswan Forest, in the area of the Gilfralia Mountains, a remote area far to the south and east of here. That's only the popular rumor of where he may be, of course, which may or may not be true. A very arduous and possibly dangerous journey to take on such a slim lead. I hate sending you on a wild goose chase at the risk of your lives. But if anyone in our world has the answers you seek, it will be Hannu." - - - - - Mulder settled gratefully in the big chair by the fire. Stretching out his long legs towards the source of warmth, he toasted his toes then drew them back. Scully handed him a cup of tea, then gasped as he put his free hand around her waist and pulled her down into his lap. //HEY!\\ She scolded lightly, trying to keep her cup of tea from spilling onto them both. He chuckled, burying his nose into the sweet-smelling wave of her hair. He drew her scent deeply into his lungs, then released his breath, hot against the skin of her neck. Having regained control of the hot teacup, Scully wriggled in his lap, then snuggled into his chest. She could feel the effect her movements had on him, physically and emotionally, a sly smile curving her lips. His grip on her tightened, his mind rich with amusement and appreciation, but she could feel the somberness underlying his affection. Lifting her head to meet his luminous gaze, she asked the question on both her minds. "Do you think we're making the right decision?" Mulder pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "I know the timing isn't too good. The trip could take up most of our remaining time in the Realm." //We'd better remember to check with the Professor again on that,\\ he added. Her affirmative reply didn't even form a single word, instead it was a tingle of psychic understanding, one that would not even have needed the fully-formed lifebond for them to share. Or perhaps, their ability to communicate nonverbally that had developed over the years of their partnership was indistinguishable from the lifebond itself, part and parcel of the same soul-link that bound them as two halves of a whole. He acknowledged her agreement without words, turning his attention back to the bigger question. "I know we're taking a big chance, going in search of someone who may not still be alive, and might not be able to help us, even if he were willing to try. But we need the answers, and it looks like no one else besides this Hannu can help. Besides, it will give us a chance to see more of the Realm before we leave." His entire face lit up like a child offered a much-desired toy. "I've always wanted to get out and around more, now that we don't have a war to worry about." Scully couldn't help laughing at the hopeful, delighted expression in his bright hazel eyes. She stroked his cheek tenderly, then rewarded him with the sunshine of her smile. "Me too. Though I am a bit concerned about our growing inability to be physically separated." "Well, at least we'll be together on the trip, that should help until we can find Hannu and figure out a solution. But what about Shannon? Do you think we ought to bring her with us? I know her friendship with Andalor is attracting notice; Reinald is certainly concerned. But it might be safer for her to stay here while we're gone. If something were to happen to her on the road..." His voice trailed off, but Scully had no trouble filling in the blanks. He'd blame himself. "Yes, of course, we should bring her with us," she replied firmly. "Mulder, Shannon is a big girl. In the Realm, young women her age are getting married and having babies, practicing their crafts, managing homes. Besides, just imagine how much trouble she might get into without you around to look after her!" That drew a chuckle from Mulder, even as his eyes widened with mock horror. He smiled, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. //I guess you're right. We are the closest thing to family she has now.\\ //She'd never forgive us if we left her behind,\\ Scully reminded him. //Besides, the trip will be good for her. She needs to stretch her wings, and we'll both be there to catch her if she falls.\\ //I suppose,\\ Mulder replied, still hesitant, his fear for Shannon's safety warring with his desire to keep her close by. Scully stroked the side of his face tenderly. "I know it's hard to stand by and let her make her own mistakes, but that's all part of growing up. She'll do fine. She's a good fighter and a lot tougher than she looks." Mulder grinned. "Oh, I have no doubts about that!" They both laughed lightly, then Mulder nodded solemnly. "You're right, Scully. And besides, for all we know this trip could be a real vacation. Though...with all the problems the Realm is having now..." Mulder frowned darkly. "It worries me, Scully. I can't put my finger on it, but I think there's more to this than meets the eye. I still think it's being orchestrated somehow. I just can't figure out why, how, or by whom." Scully struggled with the familiar temptation to tease him about his predilection for leaping to conclusions, but she, too, had a strange sense of unease about the recent outbursts on interspecies conflict occurring in the past couple months. And she knew from long experience, that however outrageous Mulder's intuitive leaps might be, they had a forbidding tendency to be proven true. "Do you think it could be the same Black Mage that vaporized or kidnapped or did Goddess know what to Drellor?" she asked. Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. It's certainly possible. I hope Tarnor gets back before we leave, I'd like to check with him on it. He's got the most experience dealing with the dark practitioners." Scully felt a tug of fear, and shivered involuntarily. He immediately hugged her into the heat of his body, his mind a burning presence on the edges of hers. //Are you all right?\\ "Yes, I'm fine. Just a slight chill," she replied. Setting down his cup of tea and then hers, he turned her around until she was facing him, his breath warm against her cheek. "Hmmm, can't have you catching a cold, now can we?" She wrapped her arms up around his neck and whispered into his mouth. "Think you can warm me up?" "AHEM!" A loud cough disturbed them both. They separated reluctantly, turning to find Shannon staring at them from the doorway, her amber eyes glowing with amusement. "You wanted to talk to me, Mulder?" The tall slender girl spoke negligently, leaning against the open door. Dressed in warrior green, her waist-length black hair was coiled into a thick knot at the nape of her neck. A few loose tendrils framed a thin, oval face, the high cheekbones and strong jaw underlining an apparent physical relationship to Mulder. In reality, they were not blood kin, but for the purposes of establishing Shannon's position in the highly stratified Realm society, Mulder had taken the girl under his wing. The technical Realm terms for the relationship were 'taabsut' and 'halla', which loosely translated in English terms as 'uncle' and 'niece' - however, the practical applications in the Realm were much more exacting. Mulder was totally responsible for her until she was legally married, and it was a duty he took even more seriously than he would admit, even to himself. Perhaps only Scully, who knew him better than he knew himself, had any inkling of just how dear the young girl had become to him. Scully smiled in welcome at Shannon, offering her a chair by the fire and a cup of tea. Shannon accepted both gratefully, sinking her lanky frame into the cushions with a soft sigh. She had begun to shoot upward in height, which combined with an adolescent self- consciousness, making her sometimes appear gawkish and awkward. But the warrior training was already ameliorating that, creating glimpses of the beautiful and graceful woman she would soon become. For now, though, she was a sixteen year-old girl, well aware she was facing a lecture from the one remaining parent figure in her life. And as beloved as he was, she was not looking forward to it. As Scully moved to leave them, Shannon reached out to restrain her. "You don't have to go, Dana," Shannon said. "I don't want to push you out of your room so late at night." Scully saw straight through the maneuver, though she merely smiled at the girl. "That's all right. I know you and Mulder have a lot to talk about, and I promised Kyla I'd check in with her tonight." Scully walked over to muss affectionately with Mulder's dark hair. "I'll be back in a little while." He grimaced at her, but nodded and then smiled softly. //Come back soon.\\ His mind added a few vivid images of his plans for her when she returned, and she was unable to hide the blush that reddened her cheeks. Turning quickly, she left the room, though not without returning a thought or two of her own. Once Scully had left, Shannon decided to go on the attack first, figuring that the best defense was a strong offense. "Look, Mulder, I'm sorry about what I did to Yurka. Well," she bit at her lip, then angled her head at him. "Well, actually I'm not really sorry about her. But I am sorry to create so much trouble. I didn't plan on doing it. She attacked, and then something just exploded inside me." She frowned more ominously, then stared at him with wide honey-tinted eyes. "I don't know what happened!" Her bottom lip trembled, as panic began to rise. Seeing Mulder use his well- controlled talent was one thing, but having a force she still didn't understand flow out of herself was simply frightening. Mulder leaned forward to reassure her gently. "It's all right, Shannon. Actually, it's my fault. Lita told us that you had some nascent Mage talent and I'd been meaning to test you on it. But things kept getting in the way..." He mirrored her frown. "Even so, it's surprising that you were able to release so much power. No one thought you had that much power available." He focused his eyes on her, his pupils dilating as he concentrated on seeing past the surface and deeper, to open his mind to her aura. Shannon watched him studying her with barely concealed concern, and a small sparkle of excitement. Could she really get to be like Mulder....she both desired and dreaded the possibility. Meanwhile, Mulder blinked rapidly, then abruptly jerked in his seat. Leaning back he met her eyes with some surprise. "What is it?" she demanded. "Your aura has shifted," he replied. "I don't know how or why such a thing could happen. But I'm not an expert on auras." He thought for a moment, his brilliant mind turning over, analyzing and discarding a dozen possibilities faster than most people could consider one or two. Finally, he spoke cautiously, rubbing at his chin. "My power seemed to be there immediately upon entering the Realm. But I'm an adult, and I seem to have more than my share of the stuff. Yours is still relatively faint in comparison, though certainly stronger now than a few days ago. And you're also a teenager....hmm...I'll have to check with Scully and Lita on this, but maybe it has something to do with that. You have undergone quite a growth spurt lately, maybe this is part of the same thing." "You mean I'll get more power as I get older?" Shannon asked intently. Mulder shrugged. "Don't know. I've always assumed the talent was an all-or-nothing kind of thing. But maybe going through the vortex and the natural physiological changes you go through at this age have altered things. Regardless, it looks like I can't keep putting off giving you some Mage training." Shannon groaned. "More lessons? I thought I'd be getting away from school when I came here, and instead it's even worse! I'm getting taught something or another for like 12 hours a day!" Mulder grinned at her. "Don't fuss. You've got it easy compared to what they put Scully and me through the first time we came here. Besides, we'll take this slowly. It shouldn't add too much to your daily schedule. And you might even like it." Shannon smiled back at him. "Maybe. Actually, it would be kind of neat to be able to turn people into toads." Mulder laughed. "Don't hold your breath. I'm not sure I can do that." Shannon shrugged, unrepentant. "Good, I'll talk to Reinald about this tomorrow. In the meantime, there are a couple of other things we need to talk about." Mulder said. Shannon forestalled him again. "Please don't tell me you're going to get on my case about Andy." Mulder stared at her in surprise. She smiled wryly at him. "I'm not stupid, you know. Andy and I are both aware that Reinald and some others around here are getting worried about our friendship. But it's not necessary. Andy and I both know that 'cause he's stuck being king that he can't be romantic with anyone unless its been set up for him. He's not too happy about it, but he knows he's going to have to marry some princess or other for the sake of an alliance or trade routes or something stupid like that." "Shannon..." She waved her hand at him. "It's okay, REALLY! Besides, Andy and I don't feel that way about each other. We're just good friends. He doesn't really have too many people his own age he can talk to. And most of the ones here treat him funny because he's the king. They either get all polite, afraid of getting into trouble, or they fawn all over him. Now THAT's disgusting, even Andy realizes that. He's actually pretty smart; well, most of the time anyway. But still, we can talk to each other just as us. After all we've been through together, I find it hard to see him as a king, and I think he likes that." Mulder felt a sharp sense of relief racing through his veins. He had underestimated both of these young people, but he was grateful to find that he had. "I'm glad for you both," he said approvingly. "I think it's wonderful that Andy has someone his own age to talk to who can really listen to him. And, personally," he confided warmly, "I would have no problem if you became more than friends someday. But Andalor is king, and that means he has a lot of responsibility to these people. Unfortunately, that means that his personal choices are more limited than yours or mine. I'm not sure that's a good thing, but for now, that's the way it is." Shannon nodded calmly. "Yeah. I know. It does stink, though. Andy is terrified they're going to make him marry one of the Dordinal girls." She shivered with unconcealed revulsion. Mulder visualized the two arrogant and rather unpleasant teenage girls in questions and found himself mirroring his halla's reaction. He certainly wouldn't want to get stuck with either of them himself. His mind couldn't help seeing the lovely face of his Scully, her eyes bright with intelligence and humor, and he again thanked any and all Gods that might be, for blessing him with her. "Hopefully," he said cautiously, "they'll find him someone better. I can't imagine Reinald doing that to Andalor unless it was an absolute emergency." "Yeah, I hope so too," Shannon replied with a bright smile. Mulder smiled in return, then brought up the final subject he needed to discuss with her. "Shannon, there's one more thing I need to talk to you about." Unable to figure out what else she could be in trouble for, Shannon drew upright in her chair. Surely she'd know if she had done something else wrong? Mulder reached out to reassure her. "No, you haven't done anything else wrong," he told her, grinning at her surprised reaction. "And no, I didn't read your mind. I can't, at least not yet. But it wasn't hard to figure out. Anyway, relax. I think you might like this idea." "What idea?" she asked, relaxing back into her thickly cushioned chair. "How would you feel about taking a trip with Scully and me?" Shannon bolted forward in her seat, fixing him with an excited stare. "A trip? Where are we going? When do we leave?" "Whoa," Mulder chuckled. "Take it easy. We haven't worked out all the details yet. Basically, Scully and I need to find an old Mage by the name of Hannu. We have some questions about our lifebond that Reinald can't answer, but thinks Hannu can. To the best of anyone's knowledge he lives far to the south in a forest. It will be a long trip, maybe weeks on the road. And don't forget that there aren't highways and cars around here, much less airplanes. We'll probably be on horseback for days on end, and may have to camp along the way. So it may not be as much fun as you think. Scully and I are definitely going, however, and we'd like for you to go with us." "Oh YES!!! COOL!!!!" Shannon leapt out of her chair and threw her arms around Mulder's shoulders. She squeezed him in a tight hug, and he returned it with affection. Then he disentangled himself from her. "There will be some rules for you to follow. I mean this, Shannon. You will do as either Scully or myself instructs without argument, and you will NEVER wander off alone without getting permission first. Do you understand?" "Yes, Taabsut Mulder," she replied. He gazed sternly at her, and she nodded at him. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good, I promise." "All right," he sighed, figuring it was the best he was going to get. "Go get some sleep now. We'll have a lot of planning to do tomorrow." She jumped up, still grinning ear-to-ear, and hugged him quickly again. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she ran for the door. When she left, he was still smiling despite himself, and that simple amusement stayed with him as he quietly prepared for bed and settled down to wait for Scully to return. End of Chapter Five THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Six She was beautiful. Hauntingly erotic, every line and curve of her hourglass figure melded and flowed in perfect symmetry. She moved with the lithe grace of a wildcat, muscles tensing beneath perfect ivory skin. Eyes like limpid black pools of oil were framed by tight arches of ebony eyebrows and underlined by high, dramatic cheekbones. The mouth was a thick slash of red, lips pouting and full, covering rows of pearly white teeth. She was lovely. And Drellor thought she was most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in all his life. Her hands, delicate and long-fingered, possessed inordinate strength. Grasping him by the collar of his tunic, she lifted him effortlessly, holding him suspended in mid-air, his feet flailing for the missing floor. Turning swiftly, she carried him through the doorway and down the seemingly endless dark corridor. A sharp turn took them up a winding staircase of hewn marble, steps formed of huge blocks of stone, their edges glittering in the dim light. Then they were through a second doorway and into a room familiar from his nightmares. The center dominated by a sphere glowing blacker than black, the walls were lined with books and velvet drapes. What little light there was sputtered from flickering candles, the tiny flames appearing almost ashamed of their presence in this place. With a quick flick of her wrist, Drellor was unceremoniously dumped into the center of an elaborately woven rug, the edges rimmed by curling runes and odd-shaped symbols. He scrambled to his feet, looking around him nervously. She ignored him, striding over to the hematite sphere and fondling the surface with sure strokes of her elegant hands. "Whhhat is happening?" Drellor blurted out, attempting to recover some of his dignity. He was answered only with a low, soft chuckle, the sound simultaneously sending a shiver of fear and a jolt of desire through his body. He responded by trying to take a step off the rug. Without even turning around to look at him, she cast her arm in his direction. Black flames danced from her right forefinger, striking hard at the embroidered runes, then blazing up to keep him confined. Terror grabbing him hard, he ran one way, then another, but the circle was complete and he was caught like a rat in a trap. Finally, he settled down in the center, drawing his knees up to his chest. And he waited. - - - - - The Evil One, the Queen of the Dark Realm, Lady of the Swamp - she was the last survivor of the ancient House that had once ruled this land. Mage-kings and queens, ruling by right of power and strength, they had seemed invincible. Long, long ago, she had born a princess, eldest daughter of the king, garbed in wealth and gifted with power. Trained from the taking of her first breath to be the next queen, she was the first of her family to fail to sit upon that throne. And she felt that failure to the very core of her being. Below her concentration on the intricate spell, a piece of her mind could not stop the review of the distant past. Memory was the one thing she could not control, could not banish from her thoughts. Memory of rebellion and battles so long over that even the bones of the dead had turned to dust within the shallow earth. But she could not forget, would not forget. She had seen her family die, leaving her bitterly alone. All because the Blue Mages had tried to stamp out the Black Arts at which her family and kind were so terrifyingly proficient. Her father had been consumed by the hunger for vengeance on the death of his wife. She had sickened and eventually died from a mysterious ailment, which he blamed on the Blue Mages. Laboring with a tirelessness that only madness brings, he had been killed horribly, blown apart by the force of the spell he was attempting to concoct to wreak his vengeance. Then her home - this lovely black castle - was imbued with a white spell, making dwelling within its walls impossible for the young princess and her younger sister. Driven into the swamp, they had lived by their wits and talents, alone, pursued. Never as strong or gifted as her older sister, Lashmilla dwelled entirely in the past, reaching out for the comfort of her dead parents. She had simply faded away before her older sister's eyes. Death by exile and sorrow, the worst kind of death, thought the Dark Queen. Without honor, without vengeance, without the race and flow of blood. She alone had escaped with her life, barely managing to eke out an existence in the dank confines of the swamp. Her power, that of an adolescent, was barely enough to shield her, to call her dinner to her, not enough to strike out. Not then. But she had learned by necessity, and soon found more uses for the blood of the animals than simply to feed her thirst. Blood, she discovered, fed the power. It both aided her concentration and augmented the magical force. From the denizens of the swamp, she soon graduated to those few humans and elves unwary enough to venture into her mist-covered domain. But once the blood-lust was satisfied, she began slowly to take more from her victims. To put off the moment of death until she had drained their minds of knowledge and information. And then once she felt she knew enough, she drew her power around her like a cloak and took her first steps out of the swamp. The world was fascinating to her, and though the time had seemed to flow slowly to her within her hiding place, the Kingdoms of the Realm had moved through nearly a century. The memory of her family had degenerated to horror stories told around campfires in the falling dusk. That lack of knowledge gave her safety, and she soon found herself a place with the magicians of the day, professing herself to be a child of the outlands, an orphan lost in the world. She managed to shield in her aura the telltale signs of the Black Arts but the power there was unmistakable. Her power was an enticement of its own, and delighted by such a promising student, they had not questioned her story. And so, she had waited and learned, absorbing information from them like a cloth takes up water, until she felt she had sucked them dry and was ready to make her move. The young heir to the head of the Maalfees House of the day was the perfect target, and she led him easily into her trap. It was easy, almost too easy - but she exulted in her success, drawing nearer and nearer to the throne that she felt was her true destiny. Nothing could have stood in her way, if it hadn't been for.... Enough! she told herself, her hands shaking for the briefest of moments before her control slammed shut. She wouldn't think of him - of that Blue Mage, who even now was rumored to be huddled in his forest domain. If she had suffered from his interference in her plans, then so too had he. Their magics had clashed in an explosion so violent it had almost shattered time itself, casting them both beyond their world. Several centuries had been lost before she could find her way back through the vortex to this world, and nearly another before he, too, had returned. She chuckled lightly, for she had indeed learned much from her foray along the lines of eternity, and it had been obvious that HE had been shaken as well. No longer the proud Royal Mage, he had scuttled into his forest like a frightened rabbit. Still, she frowned bitterly, his power and his presence was enough to keep her confined to this sunken castle within the swamp. She could keep her youth through blood spell easily, but she had no intention of being cast adrift on the winds of time yet again. The time was coming, soon enough, when her power would rise and his would fade and fall. No, she was not afraid of him anymore, it was another young Mage who was her primary concern. And now it was time to learn more of her potential adversary. Stepping back from the boiling globe, she waved an arm through the air to banish the encaging spell around her cringing tool. Lifting him up easily, she began the rhythmic spell chant, his fear feeding the power. - - - - - Scully leaned down to drop a quick kiss on Corvay's forehead. The little old elf stirred in his sleep, but did not waken. She stood gazing at the healer, the man to whom she owed so much. First he had taught her how to accept the gifts she had been given, no easy task for one so rooted in the explainable as she was. He then taught her to hone those gifts, helping her to save her bondmate's life, and possibly her own. And he had offered her reassurance and comfort when she had none to offer herself. As she watched the shallow rise and fall of the frail chest, she knew that she might never see him again. The fact that he was incredibly old and probably ready for the Next World was of no solace whatsoever. Scully added her prayer to the Goddess, to hold her mentor as dear as she did herself. Then, eyes blinded by tears, she gathered up the ointments she had come to fetch for the journey ahead and slipped quietly from the room. Kyla looked up from her bench as the smaller red-haired healer reentered the workshop. Her eyes asked the question for her, and Scully responded with a simple shake of her of head. The other healer sighed, and nodded. "He is getting old, I'm afraid." Kyla absently stirred the herbal concoction in front of her with the wooden spoon. "Healer's gift aside, that is one thing that catches up with you sooner or later." "I know," Scully replied sadly. "I just hope..." Her voice trailed off, unable to find the proper words. Kyla met her eyes with grave sympathy. "He'll leave this world peacefully and without pain, I'll make sure of that." Scully smiled, though her eyes were moist. "Thank you," she replied simply. Hefting the sack of supplies, she took a reluctant step toward the door. "I guess I'd better get going. There's a lot to do before we leave." "Oh! Wait," Kyla jumped up from her seat, towering over the smaller woman. She walked past Scully and reached for a small jar up high on a shelf. "Take this with you. It is an ointment that is supposed to fight fevers, especially those caused by wounds gone bad. I don't honestly know what is in it - Corvay gets a small amount occasionally from one of his mysterious suppliers. All I know is that it has helped when nothing else has." Scully took the jar from her and opened it to find a small amount of a greenish paste. She sniffed at it, but couldn't distinguish anything specific. "Are you sure you want me to take it - if it's all you have?" Kyla smiled down at her. "Chances are you'll need it far more than we will. Things can happen on the road. Best to be prepared." She hesitated a moment, then said formally, "Warrior-Healer Scully, you are distressed. May I enter your mind as a healer?" Scully nodded her assent, felt the cool light pressure of Kyla's fingers on her face, and immediately sensed a flood of solace and peace. Moments later, Kyla removed her hands and stepped back. "Thank you." Scully's return smile lit up her entire face, taking away the lines of worry that had creased the edges of her eyes and mouth upon finding her old teacher so weak. "Good luck," Kyla told her, retaking her seat at the bench. Scully waved at her, added the jar to her bag of supplies and quietly let herself out. - - - - - Perched on the edge of Reinald's desk, Mulder watched his friend and teacher bustle around the room. Light filtered down from the high windows to dance upon the expanse of stone floors and illuminate the piles of books and papers strewn across every possible resting place. Mulder carefully nudged one such jumble aside to gain a better seat, then leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We'll be fine," he said patiently yet again, and was ignored for his trouble. Mulder sighed and closed his eyes, his mind instinctively reaching out for Scully. He caught the edge of her thoughts, an image of the stone courtyard warmed by the glow of sunset and the weight on her shoulders. //Found what you needed?\\ he asked. He could almost *see* the smile that grew on her face in response to his mental touch. //Yes, and one extra gift...\\ Then her mind stilled, and he could feel her concern like a brush of cold air. //What's the matter?\\ he asked, waiting for her to tell him, willing to grant her privacy by not simply taking the answer from her mind. He could sense the equivalent of a mental sigh, then her mind-voice rang clear. //It's Corvay. He's so frail, and has taken to sleeping most of the day. I don't think he has very much longer to live.\\ //I'm sorry.\\ He responded, accompanying the thought with a wave of sympathy and reassurance, and his own memories of the feisty, gallant healer. She acknowledged him with a quick, electric tap against his consciousness, one of those strange little nuances of psychic conversation they had developed over the length of their lifebond. Then she changed the subject. //How are things going with Reinald?\\ Mulder let her feel his mixture of amusement and exasperation, then his thoughts coalesced into simple words. //He thinks he has some maps of the Greyveil region somewhere, and a couple of old history books that might tell us more about the mysterious Hannu. I have a feeling, however, that we'll actually get there long before Reinald finds anything.\\ Scully's mind-laugh was like the chime of a church-bell, clear and sweet. //You never know, love. And those maps would come in handy...\\ As though carefully timed to prove her right, the psychic conversation was interrupted by a loud shout. "Ah ha!!!!" Reinald pounced on a small old iron-clad chest, tucked away in a corner and covered with dusty old tomes. "I knew it was here somewhere." He pulled the chest free and carried it to the table in the center of the chamber. Mulder closed his thoughts to Scully warmly, then ambled over to join him. Reinald opened the chest, not with a key but by chanting a few lines in the old tongue. Its lid creaking, the chest opened to reveal some cloth and several scrolls of a parchment-like material, their edges brown and desiccated. The old Mage reached in and selected one, carefully unrolling it. "Oh my goodness, so this is where that went to." He let it furl up and placed it on the table, then pulled out the cloth. "If this is what I think it is...yes! Here you go," and he handed the cloth to his friend. Mulder unfolded the cloth carefully. It was fine and obviously very old. It was a tapestry, one of the marvels of Realm weaving that seemed almost holographic in its artwork. It depicted a scene of a man and a woman, both apparently Mages from the sparks flying from their fingertips, who seemed to be involved in some magical duel. "What is this, Reinald?" "A depiction of that legend I was telling you about yesterday, the duel between a Blue Mage and a Black Mage. The Blue Mage is purported to be Hannu." Mulder looked closely at the artwork. Hannu appeared to be a tall, ebony haired man with odd, amber colored eyes. He was certainly a striking figure, as was the woman he did battle with. "Take that with you. Perhaps it will help you in some way." He reached again into the chest and chose another scroll. "Yes, yes this is it, my boy. Some required reading for you." "What is it?" Mulder asked, trying to read over Reinald's shoulder. Except for a very short Old Realm preamble, the entire scroll was written using symbols he did not recognize. "This is a very valuable document, one that has been surrounded in mystery. Legend tells us that it has something to do with the Lost Powers. Now, that is not to say that everything in here is true - all records this old seem to be a mixture of fact and legend, with most of them being nothing but a collection of old myths. But this does have some element of truth to it, at least from what our scholars have been able to divine." "What are those symbols? I haven't seen those before," murmured Mulder. He was intrigued by what little he had been able to read of the scroll. "No, even our Mage-scholars have not been able to translate them. Their meaning is as lost as the powers they are supposed to describe. Even the Old Realm section is so strange and archaic that scholars have wrangled for centuries about its meaning. That word is purported to mean 'spell'," he said, pointing with an inclination of his whiskered chin. "But for the most part, they remain a mystery. If the legends are true, this scroll could contribute more to our art than anything has in our history. You are welcomed to put your mind to it. I have more confidence in your mind than in anyone else's. At worst, it will be a diversion for you." "Reinald, if this scroll is so important and valuable, maybe I shouldn't take it with me. Conditions on this journey will be rough at best. I would hate it if anything happened to something with so much historical significance." "Not to worry, my boy." Reinald closed his eyes and passed his hand over the parchment several times, muttering in the old tongue. A soft golden glow seemed to emanate from the surface of the scroll. As Reinald handed him the document, Mulder felt a warm tingling in his fingertips. "That spell should take care of any danger of damage by water or fire, or wild beast attacks." He quickly repeated the spell over the tapestry. Mulder smiled. "I don't suppose you could do the same for the three of us?" Reinald looked troubled. "Would that I could, Mulder. You have no idea how much I wish I had something for that. No, this one works only on inanimate objects. Any of my protection spells for beings are very short-lived and would not last you more than a day's travel. I am not particularly worried about what you might encounter within that distance. My fears for you increase with the distance you travel. If it were not so vital for your questions to be answered, I would urge against this trip. Is there no way I can convince you to take along a small troop of guards?" Mulder shook his head vehemently. "I've been over this with Jourdain. For one thing, we'll make better time if there's just the three of us. We'll also be less noticeable. And, Reinald, can you honestly say that the guards could do more to protect us than Scully and I can do by ourselves?" The old Mage shook his head sadly. "No. But there is such an odd feeling abroad in the Realm right now, and it makes me very uneasy." "You mean the interspecies problems?" "That, and the Noble Houses fomenting unrest for their own purposes. And a young, untried king upon the throne - one whom I happen to love very much. Above all, the sensation that none of this is natural." "Well, the Noble Houses are always up to something. And with a new king on the throne, it seems like an obvious time for them to try something." Mulder added the scroll to his pack. "Yes, I know. But...you know how you felt when you entered the dungeons the other day after Drellor disappeared? That disgusting stench, the feeling that insects were crawling all over you, the...the almost palpable evil there? I'm feeling that more and more. Everywhere. Much more subtly, of course, but it's always there, in the background." Mulder looked grim. "I know. I've felt it too. At first I thought it was just a hangover from whatever was ailing Scully and myself, that I was oversensitive or something. But I agree. It's the Black Arts." He reseated himself on the corner of the Mage's desk. "I thought Tarnor had already banished most of the Black Mages. Is there one you know of that has this kind of power - the power to hold distant beings in thrall? I mean, Reinald - that's a terrifying thought." The old Mage nodded, his white beard and long flowing white hair bobbing up and down as he did so. "It is a terrifying thought, Mage Mulder," he agreed. "A terrifying thought, indeed. Tarnor continues at his task, and fewer Black Mages remain in the Realm. And no, I know of no one with this kind of power. That's the most frightening part. Once there might have been. Again, our cursed history being more prone to poetry and legend than fact, it sheds little light. There was a legend about a whole dynasty of kings and queens who were incredibly potent practitioners of the Black Arts. Supposedly they were eradicated long, long ago." He sighed. "But if one still exists somewhere...." A rap on the door interrupted them. It opened a crack, and a leathery gray head poked through the opening. "Am I coming at a bad time?" Mulder smiled warmly. "No, of course not, Tarnor. Come on in." He went to the hearth and poured tea, and rose to hold a mug out to the gargoyle. "When did you get back?" They removed the clutter from the chairs and seated themselves at the hearth. "Just now. I ran into Jourdain in the courtyard and he told me you have spent the day preparing for a great journey." "Yes, we have. We're going off in search of the mysterious Hannu. Can I get some tea for you, Reinald?" "Thank you, my boy. After our conversation, I feel in need of a restorative." The young Mage poured tea for himself and Reinald, as the older man brought Tarnor up to date with Drellor's disappearance, the events in Fawnleaf and the probability of the involvement of the Black Arts. Since Tarnor had just returned from his continuing mission to seek and drive out any practitioners of black magic, he was well versed in the subject. The gargoyle's normally comic face was somber when Reinald had finished. He stared into his mug as he swirled the contents absently. "I, too have felt it...that something was wrong somehow. Of the Black Mages I have been in contact with, a few are truly evil. Most are merely foolish or overambitious or sick. But none has had the power to do what you're describing. And even they have mentioned a disquiet in the air, and oddly enough, they have been at pains to distance themselves from it. You know, Mulder, I understand that you and Scully need answers to your uncertainties about your lifebond, and the complications that it's presenting. But this journey may be even more critical for another reason." He looked up to see that he had captured the scrutiny of his companions. "Hannu - if he exists - is reputed to know more about the Lost Powers than anyone else. It may well be that we are going to need those very powers to defeat whoever is using the Black Arts to cause the Realm's problems. And I don't think I'm being unduly pessimistic when I say that those problems are probably going to get worse." Mulder sighed. "No, unfortunately, it only makes sense. Whoever it is that's been causing these problems has been successful so far. The Fawnleaf situation has been quelled for now, but for how long? And in how many other villages is the same hatred, the same bigotry building to a fever pitch even as we speak? Urielle said that there was something unnatural about the emotions she was encountering in Fawnleaf. Could a Black Mage be wielding enough power to superimpose that kind of hatred on beings? On hundreds of beings, and from an unknown distance? That's a frightening amount of power to be throwing around with impunity, for someone's own evil ends." "Have you discovered what happened to Drellor, Reinald?" asked Tarnor. Reinald rose and began to pace restlessly around the room. "No. I'm no closer now than when we first discovered his disappearance. He may have been in league with a Black Mage - he has used their arts before. Perhaps he was able to contact one somehow, and was spirited out of his cell. Or perhaps he was turned into a fly, or a maggot. Now that would be in character, anyway." He threw himself back into his chair in frustration. "I don't know. And I can't even begin to guess how I can find out." "Perhaps he was even kidnapped," Mulder suggested. Tarnor looked doubtful. "But why?" "Maybe his knowledge and his hatred of the king would be helpful to someone. Especially if that knowledge could be exploited and turned against the Realm in some way. He did swear revenge." "Possibly. But while I draw breath, I vow that no one will harm a hair on that boy's head," Reinald stated firmly. Then he nodded. "Tarnor's right, Mulder. Your journey is taking on more importance by the moment. And I think you have to be aware of something. A Black Mage powerful enough to do what we suspect may also have enough power to discern your mission, and try to stop you. As if the usual perils of such a journey weren't enough to worry about, there may be supernatural intervention to prevent you from accomplishing your mission." "In that case, all of Jourdain's regiment wouldn't be enough to protect us, so it's just as well to save them the trip." Mulder's sense of the ironic took over and he chuckled ruefully. "What is it, Reinald? You people dwell peacefully in the Realm for thousands of season- cycles, then Scully and I show up and all hell breaks loose. We leave, things go back to normal. We arrive again, things go to hell in a handbasket again. Is it us? Do we somehow bring bad luck to you people?" Tarnor laughed. Reinald just smiled fondly at his protege and shook his head. "The Dark Creatures made their appearance before you did, Mulder. It was just fortunate for our world that you and Scully showed up when you did. And I daresay the same may be true now. You may not accept the significance of your use of one of the Lost Powers in Fawnleaf, but believe me when I tell you that it is a sign of great hope for me right now. No, rather than bringing us bad luck, I think that perhaps the Goddess may be watching out for us by having you appear when we need you most. It's just a pity that your visits here seem to be filled with danger to your own lives." Mulder returned the old Mage's fond smile. "Well, perhaps. But there are so many compensations." The three men finished their tea in companionable silence. Then, Tarnor said, "Oh, that's right! I almost forgot why I came. I brought you these." He handed Mulder a sheaf of parchments tied up with a leather thong. "What's this?" Mulder untied the strip of leather and unfolded the papers. They were maps, illustrated beautifully enough to have qualified as works of art, not unlike the illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages. "These are the ones that you will need for your journey. As you can see, not only are the main travel routes marked, but also some of the paths through forested areas, the best places to ford rivers, and the dangers that exist in each area." He followed Mulder as the young Mage got up to spread the maps on the table. Standing close to him, he pointed out some of the features to Mulder. He traced the route with a bony gray finger. "See, you will follow the way of the Fairwoods River down to Magecloak Lake. There are any number of villages with inns where you can pass the night, but Coldshores is the biggest. Then across the Uriin Plains." Mention of that place caused the three men to shudder involuntarily. Never could they forget the fighting that took place against the Dark Creatures there, the lives lost, the horrors of that time. "Then you might want to cut across to Jinderling. While you're there, you can get an idea of any tensions that exist there. It is a mixed town, with a history of some interspecies squabbling, especially amongst the trolls and the gargoyles. The humans there have pretty much kept out of it." Mulder nodded, and filed the information away in his capacious memory. "All right, try to spend the night there. The fewer nights you have to spend actually on the road, the better." "Amen to that," Mulder grinned. He still ached from the cold wet night he spent on the road to Fawnleaf. Tarnor smiled back and pulled the next map to the fore. "Right. Then on to Fairwoods Glens, which is almost exclusively elves. That is the seat of Prince Mavor." "Excellent," said Mulder. "I was hoping to be able to talk to him anyway, and now in view of the interspecies problems, I think it's a must. I really respect him, and he may have some good counsel." "He is also extremely magically adept, as you will remember," interjected Reinald, "as well as a leading authority on Realm history. He may even be able to give you some information regarding your quest." The younger Mage nodded his understanding. "All right," continued Tarnor. "Now, you'll notice that the most direct route to the Gilfralia Mountains is here," he said, pointing. "Unfortunately, it only looks easy. The Greenswan River runs cold and deep there and the current is fierce. In addition, the river is bordered by high stone cliffs of glass-like smoothness. There is absolutely no way to ford there. So it means one of two things. Either cutting through the northern part of the Greenswan Forest" - Mulder pivoted at Reinald's inadvertent exclamation - "or give the forest a wide berth, and journey over here to Dreegan, down the pass to Goodearth Caverns, and cut over the south coast to the Greenswan Delta." "That seems very far out of the way," said Mulder doubtfully, studying the maps. "I know it seems that way, my boy, but please, heed my warning," begged Reinald. "Do not go through the Greenswan Forest to the north. The northern Greenswan is the way to sure death. Terrible beasts dwell there, beasts which make the soul eaters look like house pets. And the forest is impossibly thick. No path exists. There is not enough room to lead a horse through there, even if you could coax the animal to enter, which you probably couldn't. It is said that there are pits there which swallow a man whole and his horse as well, and poisonous insects and serpents whose bite is deadly to all beings. In the Realm, it is well known that there are two places where no sane being would pass for any reward - the northern Greenswan Forest, and Witch Tears Swamp." "Okay, but what about the southwestern edge of the forest?" asked Mulder, tracing his finger over his suggested route. "What if we cut over from Dreegan through the forest that way?" Tarnor shook his large head. "Too risky, for one thing. No one knows exactly the range of the beasts of the northern Greenswan. You might think you're safe, and run into a slasher wandering far from its den for food. I would hate to see you or the ladies become that food. For another, there is no path from Dreegan to the forest. Travellers have been staying clear of the Greenswan for thousands of season cycles. You would be climbing over rocks and hacking your way through underbrush the whole way. While it looks more direct, in actuality it would take you much longer than if you went to Goodearth Caverns and then along the coast to the Delta. Besides," the gargoyle said, his teeth bared in a ferocious grin. "if you skip Goodearth Caverns, how will my family be able to entertain you? You wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?" "No, we can't have that," Mulder said smiling. "Well, you're the local boy - I suppose you know what you're doing when it comes to traveling down there. We'll do as you suggest. Besides, I know Scully can handle herself, but I wouldn't want to expose Shannon to anything she's not ready for." "Thank you, my boy. I am going to be anxious enough without knowing you are headed for certain death by attempting to pass through the Greenswan Forest." If Mulder had any doubts about the seriousness of Reinald's words, they were erased by the old man's look of obvious relief. "All right, Tarnor, then what?" "Then through the Delta, up to the fordable part of the Greenswan River, and over into the Gilfralia Mountains. Then the fun will begin, because no one knows exactly where Hannu might be. Somewhere between Treetops and Peaksview is my best guess. Quite a journey." "Yeah. Makes me tired just planning it," said the young Mage. Reinald looked concerned. "Are you sure you have recovered enough? Perhaps if you had another few nights to rest...." Smiling, Mulder shook his head. "No, Reinald, it's now or never. Scully and I have to get a handle on this bond thing before there are bigger problems than we've already experienced. As long as we stay together on this trip - and that is a priority, believe me - we'll be fine. Besides, with what's happening in the Realm, we can't afford to wait. Things are getting worse every day. We have to go now. A Gate would be more convenient, but I guess we have to do this the old-fashioned way." Another knock at the door sounded, and the Professor peeked in. "Am I disturbing you? I heard Mulder's voice. I have those calculations that he wanted...." "Please! Come on in." Mulder leapt up to pour yet another mug of tea and clear away another seat. He exchanged the mug for the paper the Professor extended to him, and studied it for several moments while the Professor sat and made himself comfortable. "Uh, Scully was the physics major, Professor. I'm sure all this scrawl means something to you, but not to me, I'm afraid. Would you care to translate this?" Tarnor's ears flicked in interest. "What calculations are you doing, Professor? Not another vortex, I hope." He shivered, and his companions chuckled. "No, not yet anyway. Mulder asked me to try to calculate how much more time he and Scully could remain in the Realm without being missed in his world." The group sobered. Reinald rubbed his brow and said softly, "You are so much a part of us and our world that I forget that you have another world and another life. Thoughts of your leaving are so painful, I probably wish to forget." "I know, Reinald. Scully and I feel the same. We discussed it seriously before we went back the first time. We were tempted to stay, very tempted. But I have my own quest in my world, to find my sister again. If it were not for Samantha and for Scully's family, believe me, we'd be more than happy to stay here for the rest of our lives. In so many ways, the Realm and its beings mean more to us than our own world. But we must go back. It's just nice that time cooperates, and makes it possible for us to stay so long here and be gone from our world only a fraction of that time. Quite literally, we can have the best of both worlds." Mulder turned his gaze from the kindly old Mage and looked at the Professor. "So what's the bad news, Professor Neumann? When do I have to go back to driving Skinner crazy?" The gaunt old man smiled. "Precise calculations are, as you know, difficult because of the eddies in the flow of relative time - now speeding up, then slowing down. As you can see by my figures" - Mulder looked at him blankly - "well, no, perhaps you can't, but let me assure you that I believe I'm fairly close in this estimate. You should have another month and a half to two months left in the Realm without Skinner sending out the troops to look for his AWOL agents." 'AWOL' did not translate in New Realm, so Mulder did his best to explain it to Tarnor and Reinald. "So, Tarnor, since you are the experienced traveller amongst us - how long do you think this trip will take?" The gargoyle shrugged his bony shoulders. "It depends on how much trouble you run into en route. I would say there was no way you could do it in less than twelve sunrises, at best. At worst, maybe double that. And that's just to get to what we hope is the right area. It's anyone's guess how long it will take you to find Hannu, if he even exists." Mulder frowned. "Counting the return trip, that's cutting it pretty close." Reinald rose and scooped some crystals out of a leather bag on his desk, then poured them into Mulder's cupped palms. "This should help. Miniature Oracle Clouds. We can use them to keep in touch. And when you have completed your quest, with you at a distance and me here, with some luck we should be able to construct a Gate to get you home. I will put all my energies to it. That will save you the time and dangers of the return trip. I just wish I knew of a knowledgeable enough Mage near where you're going so I could Gate you out there, but I don't. Not one that I trust. But this will halve your danger, anyway. The distance will be great, far greater than anything I've yet attempted, but we may be able to pull it off." "I would be honored to help on this end, Mage Reinald," said Tarnor excitedly. "And if we're successful and find Hannu, the two of us should be able to take care of the other end," agreed Mulder. "Sounds like a plan. We'll leave at first light." - - - - - Andalor nodded curtly, returning the salute of the guard in the West Tower. Up here on the battlements, some of his anger cooled in the fresh breeze. Maybe I should have stayed in Mulder's world, he thought. Here, he was surrounded by ridiculous nobles with overinflated egos, problems from one end of the Realm to the other, and duty - always duty. When did he get to do what HE wanted? And if Reinald thought that he would accept one of the loathsome Dordinal girls as his bride, well, he'd look for the nearest available vortex. His pace slowed a bit and he finally paused to look out over the North Wall at the twin moons suspended over the thick forest below. He had to admit that his first foray into Mulder's world had been far from ideal - beset with more problems and dangers than the Realm. Surely it would not be that way again. And if it came to a choice between facing all the dangers that Mulder's world could throw at him, and waking up every morning for the rest of his life beside the revolting Hordensa or Burthilda - well, the decision would be easy. He began walking again at a more leisurely pace and came to the turn where the north and east battlements met. Suddenly, his heart caught in his throat. Fifty paces ahead, Shannon stood looking out at the night sky, her long black hair loose, her simple pale blue shift billowing in the breeze. Now why couldn't the Dordinal girls look more like Shannon, and less like one of the Dark Creatures? He approached quietly, half-reluctant to disturb her thoughts. "You should have a cloak - it's cold up here." Shannon turned to him with a soft smile and gratefully accepted the king's cloak, which he draped over her shoulders. "Thanks. I forgot how much colder it would be up here." In answer to the question in his eyes, she said "I just couldn't sleep. I know I should, we'll be leaving in just a few hours. But I'm so excited! Just think of the things I'll see!" Andalor smiled at her, having to look slightly down at her. They were both growing at a rapid rate and there was an unacknowledged contest between them to see who was the taller at any particular time. He finally had outpaced her, and enjoyed his inch advantage. "Hoping to run into some dragons to slay?" "Are there dragons here? Really?" When the king could hold back his mirth no longer and spluttered with laughter, she knew she had been duped once again. "When am I going to learn not to believe you? Andy, there are times that, king or not, you piss me off!" He laughed, his previous bad mood evaporating in the easy friendship he had with this exciting girl from Mulder's world. "But, Shannon, you're such an easy mark! Besides, I have to get even. You didn't treat me very well when we were in your world." "I treated you as well as you deserved," she shot back. Then she drew the cloak more securely around her shoulders. "What are you doing up here, anyway?" "I often come up here - you know, surveying my vast kingdom," he said dryly. Her look told him that clearly, she did not believe him. "Okay, I was upset at Reinald, and I came up here to walk around until my mood improved. I've been coming up here quite a lot lately." "Is he on your case again?" "Yeah. Well, I don't blame him. What is your saying? "It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it?" It's just that..." he slapped his palms on the top of the wall in frustration "...I HATE being told what to do all the time, and my duty to the Realm always being thrown in my face. I know what my duty is, I've been told what it is since I can remember. There's so many problems right now, serious ones. But I'd hate to think my reward for doing my duty, and working hard to try to solve those problems, would be to be stuck for life with one of the Dordinal girls." Shannon burst out laughing. "The Ostrich and the Warthog? Goddess, Reinald isn't serious, is he?" Andalor smiled grudgingly. "Well, to his credit, I don't think he is serious, not about them, anyway. I think he was presenting the worst case, so I will be more amenable to whoever else they come up with for me to marry. Reinald was just making sure I knew that it was my duty to marry for the good of the Realm. Which means a wife who will bring political strength and bear many sons. Since one can never be sure of the latter, it means that the former is a critical factor." He sighed. "I know it's the custom of the Realm for royals and nobles to have their marriages arranged and blessed by the Council of Representatives. Even some of the commoners believe in arranged marriages. But I had so hoped that at least I would be allowed to choose my own wife," he closed, wistfully. "You mean, you might have to marry someone you haven't even met?" Shannon was clearly horrified. Andalor smiled bitterly. "Yes, that's the way of the Realm. And while you're busy feeling badly for me, mark this. As your taabsut, and having the position that he does in the life of the Realm, Mulder would be expected to arrange your marriage." "No! He'd never do that!" she cried, aghast. "Shannon, he might not have any choice. If it were entirely up to Reinald, I'm sure he would rather I marry for love. But it's not his choice. The traditions here are too strong. But all that hardly matters if you're not going to stay here." "I haven't decided what I'm doing yet. If I want to stay, I'll stay." "But aren't Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully going to leave?" "Yeah, they say they have to get back, soon after we return from our trip. I think they're kind of leaving it up to me whether I go with them or stay here." She turned away from him to look out over the night sky once again, her eyes filling with tears. "It's different for them - they're going back TO something. I have nothing to go back to. I don't know what I'm going to do." "You know that you have made friends here, all of whom would be very sorry to see you go." "Does that include you?" she asked him, her tone at once joking and earnest. His voice was serious, his appearance more adult than she had ever envisioned it. "Especially me, Shannon." Slightly awkwardly, he wrapped her in his arms. "You'll be careful on this trip, won't you? Let Mulder and Scully slay a few of the dragons?" "I'll be careful, Andalor. You know me - indestructible." Her voice was muffled, her breath close to his neck. "I only wish that were true. And I know you far too well to imagine that you won't be in the middle of things if trouble breaks out." She gave him a sneaky but good-natured punch on the shoulder and stepped back from the circle of his arms. "You callin' me a troublemaker?" "I? Far be it for me to cast aspersions on your lily-white feminine character, but may I remind you who almost whipped that gang in your world single-handedly? Of course, that was only after you got us in trouble with them to start with...." As he had known it would, her mood instantly changed from that of troubled teenager to playful child and he took to his heels, as giggling, she chased him along the battlements. - - - - - The cottage sat hunched at the wall of the courtyard, black against the marginally lighter night sky. No fading of moons and stars, no promise of dawn was yet imminent. The silence was total, the peace complete. Which made the stillness-shattering scream from the cottage even more frightening. - - - - - The sky was just beginning to brighten with the first rays of weak sunlight when the group assembled outside the main courtyard. For the fifth time, Scully adjusted her saddle and checked that the pack animals had been properly loaded with everything they had collected to bring. Mulder was conferring with Reinald and Tarnor, receiving last-minute instructions, warnings and well-wishes. Andalor and Shannon had withdrawn a little, away from the group, their heads together in earnest conversation. She waited nervously, anxious to be on their way. At a window in a cottage across the garden, she spotted Kyla, helping Corvay to stand to offer his own farewell to the group. She waved and blew him a kiss, and was rewarded with the old healer's smile. Then they disappeared from the window, doubtless to return Corvay to his warm bed. Again there was a tug on her heart as she thought of how much she loved and respected her old teacher. Sighing, she took the reins in her hands. "Mulder, Shannon. It's time." Accepting a leg up from a nearby guard, she mounted her huge Realm steed. Mulder shook hands with the other Mages, then patted a clearly worried Reinald gently on the shoulder. He walked over to his horse, easily swinging up into the saddle. In seconds she felt him in her mind, having picked up on her nerves and taking a moment to send a message of love and reassurance. She acknowledged it gratefully and turned to check Shannon's progress. Shannon pecked Andalor on the cheek and in a moment was on her horse too. They urged their mounts toward the portcullis. "Scully! Mulder! Wait!" Scully's head snapped around even as she drew in her reins, to see Aldara and Jourdain running towards them, Daanna cradled in her father's arms. She slid off her horse and ran to meet them. "What is it? Is Daanna ill?" Aldara was chalk-pale, her ebony curls tangled. "She had another foretelling dream, Dana. She awoke screaming, and it was a full two candlemarks before we could get any sense out of her. But you have to hear what she says before you go." "Did you have a scary dream, Daanna? Will you tell me about it?" Scully asked the solemn child. Mulder dismounted to appear at her side. Daanna nodded to Scully, but turned and spoke to Mulder. "She'll try to stop you. Stay together and don't let her stop you. You have to pass the test, you must pass it. Or you won't find him." "Who'll try to stop us, honey?" Mulder's voice was soft, calm, assuring. "SHE will. The lady with the black clothes. She's bad, and she'll try to hurt you. But you have to pass a test to find the Blue Man, and if you don't, everything will get all scary and bad things will happen to everyone." The child was shaking, close to tears, and she reached out to Mulder. As he took her in his arms, he glanced over her head at the assembled adults. Daanna's words and their meaning had not been lost on any of them. He stroked her hair and said "All right, sweetie. Now you've told us, and we'll do just as you say. Don't worry, we'll be fine because you've been such a big help, and we'll make sure the scary things don't happen, okay?" The child gazed at him with eyes that seemed hundreds of season-cycles old. "You HAVE to be okay, Mage Mulder. All THREE of you have to be okay for the good things to happen," she said firmly. He nodded slowly, treating her with deadly seriousness. "I promise, Daanna." She gave him a watery smile before reaching out to her mother. Mulder handed the child over to Aldara and swung himself up into the saddle again. Jourdain lifted Scully onto her horse. With hearts and minds too full for words, the Mage, his bondmate and his halla rode out through the portcullis and the safety of Fairwoods Keep. End of Chapter Six THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Seven They rode in companionable silence. Dressed in her warrior green, Scully was a constant, earthy presence by his side. Mulder didn't need to reach out physically or even psychically to feel her, she was with him, of him, by him, always entwined with his own sense of self. Shannon followed a bare horse's length behind them, sitting tall and straight on her horse, her bright amber eyes wide with excitement. Mulder turned his head to smile at her, enjoying the girl's simple pleasure in exploring new places, seeing in her an echo of himself. Shannon grinned at her blue-cloaked guardian, then let her eyes wander again to the heavy walls of foliage lining the hardened earth of the road. The Realm had not discovered the joys of tar- based pavement; instead constant use aided by careful application of magic served to create common pathways between settlements. This one was broad enough to allow two wagons to pass side-by-side, though in hot midday sun, it was presently empty except for the three travelers and their packhorse. The four animals' hooves beat a steady rhythm on the brown earth as they followed the road through a dense forest, the trees stretching high above them to form a green arch above their heads. The center of that arch was open sky, the burning solar orb centered in a cloudless blue sea. Here and there a sound would filter out of the dense growth, color flashing at the edges of their vision, creatures darting from tree-limb to tree-limb, or leaping across the road to vanish into the heavy underbrush on the other side. The air itself was filled with exotic scents, some faintly familiar, reminiscent of lilac and rose, others tempting in their strangeness. Mulder was struck again by the sense of skewed recognition, for there he could see what he would have sworn was an oak, yet at a second glance he saw purplish, gourd-shaped fruit hanging in small clusters surrounded by the classic-shaped oak leaves. He shook his head, smiling to himself, then turned his attention back to his companions. "Anyone for a round of 'A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall'?" "NO!" Both women shouted in unison, then broke out into warm-hearted laughter when Mulder's mobile features settled into a boyish pout. But the day wore on long, and even a quick stop in the village of Waterush for food and other necessities didn't lessen the boredom of spending long hours astride a horse. A short game of "identify the creature" helped for a while, as did a few of Mulder's not-too-exaggerated X-File stories. Shannon was fascinated by their work, but while the Realm had made a serious dent in her disbelief, she still carried a skeptical streak that made Scully proud. Each time the girl challenged Mulder's conclusions, Scully would amusedly arch her eyebrow at her partner. He would gravely shake his head, then spin out yet another tale. Finally, by the time Shannon thought that if she had to spend another instant on the horse, her legs would be permanently bent outwards, they arrived in the small fishing village of Coldshores. The lake shimmered in the falling dusk, the setting sun blazing orange-red flame in the western sky. The pungent smell of fresh fish dominated the air. Hurrying to process the day's catch from the lake, the villagers gave little notice to the three weary travelers. "There," Scully pointed out the sign of the inn with open relief. Shaped like a fish on a pole, the loose wooden flap wavered in the breeze, the New Realm symbol for hospitality forming its eye. "Clever," Mulder commented wryly as they dismounted from their horses, all emitting soft-throated groans of pain as sore muscles set to complaining vigorously. It took a moment for the innkeeper to realize he had guests, but once he did, they were whisked inside, their horses turned over to a pair of grubby youths. Hoisting their saddle packs over their shoulders, Mulder, Scully, and Shannon followed the energetic, human innkeeper inside. Like most Realm institutions of this sort, it was dark and crowded, tables and chairs scattered apparently at random in the large room, a thick bar-style counter lining one wall. A couple of windows threw some light on the scene, the rest of the dull glare provided by thin Mage-lights spaced erratically along the walls and the broad fireplace. "Geera, Geera, hurry woman!" the innkeeper shouted. "We have guests." The stumpy man turned, his narrow eyes taking a closer look at the newcomers, and his mouth widened into a big "o." //I think the dollar signs just went off,\\ Mulder mind-spoke to Scully. She agreed silently, then dropped her pack onto a nearby stool and came to stand at Mulder's side, leaving her hands free. A quick glance at Shannon urged the girl to do the same, so that when a portly, gray-haired woman, who had to be Geera, came bustling out of the kitchen accompanied by the stomach-wrenching stench of frying fish, the three travelers were spaced shoulder-to-shoulder. Coming up beside her fidgety husband, Geera took in their appearance. Her eyes quickly dismissed the two female soldiers for the tall, handsome Mage-cloaked man in the middle, and she abruptly swept into an exaggerated bow. Shannon had to strangle a giggle as it appeared for a moment that the woman had bent over so far that she would topple to the floor at Mulder's feet, but somehow she righted herself, breaking into effusive welcome. "Welcome to our humble establishment, oh mighty Mage," she gushed. Turning to her husband, she issued a rapid-fire set of instructions, then yelled a few more into the backroom. "See that their horses are well-cared for, Hyrtan. You know how lazy those two sons of yours can be. Go on now! And tell Golla on your way out to start preparing hot water for our guests. I'm sure his Mageness will want to take a bath." Now Mulder and Scully were both having a hard time holding back their own laughter, but they knew a hard bargaining session was upcoming, and they needed to retain dignity for at least long enough not to get swindled. In response to more shouting from the excited Geera, a pair of younger copies of her came running out from the kitchen, sweat pouring down their round faces. "There you are, girls. See to the rooms upstairs at once. You are lucky today, honorable Mage, for our best room is vacant. And there is even another empty room connected to it for your guards to use." //Mulder....\\ Scully briskly forestalled any humorous comment from her bondmate, though she could see the bright twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes. She stared firmly at Geera as the two maidens scurried up the small staircase, throwing back glances and giggles in Mulder's direction. "How much for the night, with supper and breakfast included?" Scully asked. Geera paused for a second, her brown eyes focusing on Mulder's finely woven blue cape and the jeweled hilts of the swords all three carried. A quick note of the brilliant sapphire framed in gold on Mulder's right ring-finger, and she drew herself upright. //Here it comes...\\ Mulder told Scully. "Eight silvers and six irons." Geera gazed firmly up at Scully, who made a show of shaking her head. "Four silvers and three irons," Scully said slowly, her eyes making a casual circuit of the dusty room. Geera stepped back, as though horrified at the offer. "How can you insult us so? This is the finest inn in this part of the Realm. Why my special fish stew is worth that much alone." She gazed appealingly up at Mulder. "Surely, you understand our worth, oh powerful one." Mulder almost choked, trying to hold back the laughter. Letting Scully feel the strength of his amusement, he forced his face into a stern expression, glowering down impassively at the expansive innkeeper. Beside him, Scully folded her arms together, waiting with impatience. Geera looked from one to the other, then sighed dramatically. "Ahhh, for such special guests, we can perhaps make an arrangement. Say, seven silvers and five irons." Scully rapidly shot back, "Five silvers and three irons. Baths included." "Ahh, how can you expect us to support ourselves at such rates? Why, I have three daughters who must be married. Nay, we cannot take less than six silvers..." "And three irons," Scully broke in. Geera tossed her hands up in the air, as though appealing to the Gods for assistance, but Scully forestalled any more bargaining, by proffering the coins. Geera took one look, reached out a grimy hand and swept them up into her voluminous apron pocket. Once the payment had exchanged hands, she was all business, her pockmarked face grinning with pleasure. Scully could have argued her further down, with ease, which left the innkeeper feeling as though she had won a battle. Moments later, the three weary travelers found themselves settled into a suite of rooms. Spare of furnishings and decoration, the rooms were surprisingly clean. The floor and walls were made of paneled wood, holding the fresh sheen of recent cleansing. The furniture was simple and made of mismatched tones of wood. A large bed, the mattress draped with gray-toned, carefully mended linen, dominated the larger space, while the smaller one held two spare cots. An upright wardrobe, a square table and hard-backed chair took up the rest of the bigger chamber, one tiny glass-paned window set high in the wall above the headboard of the bed. With darkness falling outside, the only light was provided by a series of candles set in iron-cast holders in the corners of each room. Mulder quickly accented the light, tossing up a glowing blue ball of Mage- light to float a few inches below the ceiling. The sight of that luminous globe startled one of the serving girls as she carried in a handful of towels and a pitcher of water. Gasping, she nearly spilled the water, bobbing her head gratefully when Shannon retrieved the droplet-stained porcelain pitcher from her hands. Backing out the door, she then turned and fled down the stairs, leaving Mulder chuckling as he sprawled out on the bed. //Show-off!\\ Scully scolded him lightly, as she unpacked the few belongings she had carried upstairs with them. Shannon wandered into the second room, dumped her pack, then came back and plopped herself beside Mulder on the huge mattress. "I suppose I have to sleep in the other room," she complained, rubbing at the sore muscles of her thighs. "Yes, you've got it all to yourself," Scully told her firmly, though with a gentle smile. Shannon groaned, but didn't argue. Instead, she sat up and watched the petite woman move efficiently around the room. "I don't suppose you've got anything for cramped muscles, do you?" Scully smiled openly this time. "Yes, but it'll be more effective after your bath. Actually, soaking in the tub is the best cure anyway." Shannon couldn't help agreeing, still massaging the painful muscles as she watched the rest of their belongings being ported in by the same pair of boys who had taken charge of their horses. They were quickly followed by yet a third teenage girl, a slender, female version of her brothers, who shyly announced the bath was ready, even as her wide brown eyes soaked up every element of the newcomers' appearance. "I'm first!" Shannon announced, practically grabbing the girl by the arm and pushing her out into the hallway. Mulder and Scully exchanged smiles as they heard the echo of girlish conversation flowing away down the hall. - - - - - All three felt remarkably better after a bath and change of clothing, and they relocated down to the public bar in search of the promised dinner. This time they found the main room bustling with activity. Most of the tables were taken up by a large party of green- skinned trolls garbed in bright colors, an eye-catching, stomach- churning mix of reds, greens, blues and yellows. A few humans were scattered amongst the trolls, clustered together at the corner of the bar or seated in twos or threes at small tables. The trolls filled the room with a strident chatter, punctuated by the gulps and burps that signified their level of satisfaction with the fare. Trolls considered good food one of the greatest joys of life, and the more pleased they were, the more noise they made when they ate. By the level of the din this particular evening, it appeared that Geera's claims for her stew might not be so exaggerated. As they passed a food-preoccupied cluster of trolls, Scully's eyes widened. //They've got even worse clothes sense than you,\\ she teased Mulder. //Haha,\\ he retorted. //Very funny.\\ He eyed a particularly offensive combination of yellow, purple and orange worn by a massive male troll and winced. //My ties were never that bad!\\ Scully followed his eyes, then let her gaze roll away. //Perhaps not quite THAT bad,\\ she admitted, as they settled into their seats at an empty table set off in a corner. "Cut it out!" Shannon told them with affected irritation. "What?" Scully looked at her with confusion. "The silent talking," Shannon said. Mulder leaned forward across the table, fixing her with his keen hazel gaze. "You can hear us?" he asked. "No." Shannon shook her head, her recently washed hair spilling down her back in an ebony waterfall. "But I recognize the looks on your faces when you private-talk. It's like you're focused inside yourselves rather than on what's around you." "Is it that obvious?" Scully sighed. "Not really," Shannon grinned. "I doubt anyone who didn't know you both well would notice." "Well, that's a relief," Scully replied, ruefully returning the smile. "And I'm sorry, we'll try to do it less while you're with us." "Actually, it's okay," Shannon said. "I was just teasing. But it does get annoying sometimes to feel like I'm only getting half of the conversation." "We'll do our best to make sure you get it all," Mulder told her seriously, though his eyes twinkled with green highlights. "Well," he shot a quick look at Scully, "at least MOST of it!" Scully didn't bother with a psychic comment, she silently toed him under the table. Mulder shifted abruptly in his chair, giving her a wounded look, and both women chuckled at him. Further comment was forestalled by the arrival of one of the harried waitresses with three foaming glasses of the Realm's version of beer. Shannon lifted hers gingerly, eyeing it with distaste while Mulder threw back a large gulp of his. Scully grinned over the top of her at Shannon. "I don't like it much either, but at least the alcohol kills off anything that could make you sick in the local water. I have herbs I can use to make the water safer, but we're better off drinking this stuff tonight and saving those for tomorrow on the trip." "Come on, Scully. This stuff is pretty good. Maybe not quite as good as the old English ales I drank in Oxford, but it'll do in a pinch." Mulder chugged down about half his glass and sat back with a satisfied look on his face. Shannon threw him a disgusted look and sipped lightly at the foam of hers, lips pursed in a moue of distaste. Scully took a moderate swallow of her own, then lifted an amused eyebrow at her partner. "Better take it easy on that stuff, Mulder. Don't forget what happened last time you drank it while we were traveling." Mulder grimaced at her. "That wasn't my fault. He hit me while I was spell casting, and besides, I've got a lot more experience now." Shannon had been following this conversation closely, and while another young servant bustled up to deposit a huge lump of brown bread and a steaming pot of savory-smelling stew on the table between them, she demanded an explanation. While Scully ladled stew into their bowls, Mulder launched into the story of his first abortive attempt at using magic to stop a brawl. By the time he had finished, Shannon was laughing so hard tears streamed from her eyes. "Did he ever come down?" Mulder nodded, swallowing a spoonful of the stew. Tearing off a hunk of the bread, he answered with good humor. "Yeah, it wore off slowly, luckily for him. When we came down in the morning, he was lying flat on the floor passed out. He still glowed a bit, but I'd assume that went away in a day or two." Scully laughed between bites of bread. "Not that his companions waited to find out. They got out of there at first sign of dawn, all looking quite ill." "Serves them right," Mulder commented firmly. His expression darkened as he thought of the young elven maiden who had been assaulted by the group of mercenaries. He had a fierce protective streak when it came to young women, not that Scully didn't share his hatred for anyone who hurt an innocent. "Amen," she said, sending him a silent wave of love through their bond. His entire body relaxed, the dark storm in his eyes giving way to verdant good humor. Shannon simply nodded, busily wolfing down the surprisingly well-made stew. It had taken her a while to learn to like the more simple Realm-style diet, and she still ached sometimes for a Big Mac. However, there was nothing like an abundance of exercise and sunshine to stimulate the appetite. Mulder and Scully watched her with affection, then followed her sensible example. When they were finished eating, they walked out of the stifling, crowded inn and wandered down towards the lakeside. The streets wound jaggedly between the closely-set dwellings, most constructed of wood with straw-lined roofs. The pungent sap from a Realm-common tree served as the plaster to keep moisture from dripping through the roofs and between the side-planks, its odor mixing with the ever-present smell of raw fish. The lake itself was a dark sea beneath the moonlit sky, the reflection of the bright orbs shimmering on faint waves of that sheer surface. More than a dozen boats of various sizes and shapes floated along the water's edge, moored to small docks and rocks with long flaxen ropes. A small path wound along the docks, and the three stepped along it carefully, enjoying the coolness of the night breeze after the sultry heat of the day. To light their way, Mulder resorted to one of his first- learned spells. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed a small blue globe of light up into the air to hover just above their heads. Scully gave him a tender smile, leaning comfortably against the sinewy strength of his arm. He closed his fingers over hers, clasping them between his own and his forearm, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of her coppery head. Beside them, Shannon watched the luminous globe float and roll above their heads, then turned to Mulder. "Do you think I could learn how to do that?" Mulder gazed fondly down at the girl, whose amber eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. "I think it's quite likely. If we get time on the next leg of the trip, I'll start teaching you the basics. It'll take a while before you're able to cast and control a spell, though." Shannon frowned with disappointment, then shrugged her shoulders lightly, the clouds fleeing her expression as quickly as they had come. Reaching up on tip-toe, she batted at the little blue ball, laughing as it bounced around the edges of her outstretched fingertips, bathing them in a pleasant warmth. Then she was off, running ahead of Mulder and Scully, darting in and out across the docks, happily absorbing her surroundings. "Don't go too far," Mulder warned, getting a short wave of acknowledgment in response. He sighed, then leaned his chin down on Scully's head. //She'll be all right,\\ Scully reassured him. //She's a lot smarter and tougher than she looks. After all she's been through...\\ //Yeah,\\ Mulder replied thoughtfully. //I know. She's lost a lot of that edge, though, in the past few months.\\ //You've done a wonderful job with her, you know...\\ Scully told him with affectionate sincerity. His mind reacted with surprise, then a rush of both pleasure and uncertainty. //I don't know. I'm hardly the best role model for her.\\ //You're a better role model than you think. You're a lot alike, Mulder, you and Shannon. You both had to grow up quickly. And you both question everything, wonder about how the world works, look past the surface to what lies beneath. She admires you very much.\\ Mulder was vocally and mentally silent for a moment, his quicksilver mind circling on itself. Finally, he opened to his bondmate, letting her feel his mix of emotion, a sincere affection for his young ward coming to the forefront. //She is special...she reminds me so much of...\\ The name didn't need to be spoken between them, a single image hovered simultaneously, instantly, in their minds - the solemn face of a raven-haired little girl with bright hazel eyes. //Yes,\\ Scully agreed, then added with typical understanding of the man at her side, //Caring for Shannon doesn't diminish your love for her, Mulder. We'll find her, someday. Maybe we'll even get to bring her here.\\ //God, I hope so, Scully.\\ Mulder's reply was soft and heartfelt, ringing between them with a lifetime's worth of devotion. //I'll make it so.\\ - - - - - Jhorgab found himself surrounded. The young troll stepped back, then spun around to face yet another human youth whose face was contorted with mocking rage. He had never seen such an expression before, it was as though the laughter was twisted on itself, skewed into something so devoid of humor that it became colder than ice. A shiver shook his portly frame, and he turned again, his long-fingered hands raised upwards in instinctive self- defense. Something struck hard in the middle of his back, and he stumbled almost to his knees, then jerked up and around, only to get hit again from another side. The boys' taunts surrounded him, and each dash in one direction was aborted as another stepped into his path, pushing him back again into the center of the square. "Let me go!" he yelled, only to receive another blow, this time striking the sensitive spot behind his large, knobby ear. "AAAANNNNGHHH!" he screamed, finally collapsing to the hard, packed earth of the village road. Curling inward on himself, he shuddered as several leather-booted feet kicked out at him in a relentless assault. "STOP!!!!" That fierce demand went unheard, until the source came running out of the shadows of the side-street brandishing a long silver-handled sword. Her long raven-black hair flowing behind her in silken waves, Shannon aimed the point of her weapon with deadly accuracy at the backside of the nearest boy. He screeched loudly as she punctured his skin, then withdrew, dancing away before he could turn to see who had attacked. She side-stepped in a quick, agile dance, holding the sword-hilt in both hands, the blade held up before her. Her caramel- colored eyes blazed like twin fires, shadowed by two heavy wings of her hair. She snarled at the nearest boy, her long-limbed body held poised for the attack. He took one look into her angry, determined face, dropped his eyes to the shimmer of the sword, turned on his heels and ran. The others jeered at him as he disappeared, the tallest of the remaining youths pumping up their courage with a flood of insults. "Cowards! Frightened by a mere girl." Staring with open lechery at Shannon, he walked brazenly towards her. "Hey little girl. Why doncha put down the little sword and come play with mine." Cupping his crotch, he boasted with a laugh, "After all, it's bigger!" His friends joined in his laughter, coming to face Shannon in a small cluster, moving slowly towards her. She didn't back off an inch, remained coldly balanced, rocking slightly from toe to heel. They got closer, and she tilted her head to the side, an apparently gentle smile curving her lips. "You really wanna play?" she teased. The lead youth laughed louder at her words, his own smile broadening, though his gray eyes never wavered, never lightened. Shannon drew the sword off to her side, and he instantly began to pounce...only to find the point of that silvery blade pressed tightly against his throat. Shannon flicked her wrist and he gasped, a small trickle of blood forming beneath his chin. The other boys paused, uncertain, waiting for some sign or signal of how to react. Shannon gave it to them, her eyes, body, and sword unmoving, she whispered with total confidence. "Try to touch me again and I'll carve you into little pieces, starting with that 'sword' you're so proud of. Got it?" The tall youth swallowed hard, then froze as the motion made the sword-point burrow deeper into his skin. But Shannon easily read the answer in his eyes, and before he could react further, she had spun away. His hand fled upwards to press into the tiny wound, then he turned and pushed his stunned companions away. They hardly needed encouragement, and in less than a few breaths, they were long gone. Shannon watched warily for a few moments, then she sheathed her sword and hurried over to the troll huddled on the ground. Just as she was reaching out to him, voices followed footsteps, crying her name. "Shannon!" "Here!" she yelled. Mulder burst into the small crossroads, his long blue cloak flapping around his ankles. His aura blazed around him, disturbed by his anxiety, casting a luminous blue glare over the entire scene, punctuated by the bobbing azure ball that hovered a few inches above his head. He came to a quick stop beside her, then turned to put out a hand towards Scully who came running up behind him. Scully clasped her hand over Mulder's forearm, then settled gracefully to her knees next to Shannon, never losing her momentum. Her fingers traced along the back of Mulder's hand before reaching out to reassure the terrified young troll. "It's all right," she soothed, following up her words with the soft mental chime of a healing chant, one designed to offer comfort and psychic ease. It took effect quickly, the bright youngster recognizing that these three people meant him no harm. The dark- haired fury had, after all, saved his life. Leaning into the support his savior offered, he studied her two companions with wide-spaced yellow eyes. The blue-cloaked man was standing above the flame- haired woman, watching with intense concentration, his eyes flickering from shadow to shadow, watching for any further sign of trouble. Dark tendrils of hair fell against his flat human brow, his thin human mouth pursed tight. While the troll could barely see the aura that must blaze around him, that long deep azure cloak spoke for it, declaring the unseen power borne within. The woman at his feet was dressed in warrior green, but he could already sense her healing talent. That combination startled him, and he fastened his eyes on her face, a bushy green eyebrow rising upwards beneath the heavy thrusting bone of his forehead. The expression was so comical that Shannon giggled, then caught herself, clamping her hand over her mouth and pretending to cough, as Scully shot her a restraining look. Jhorgab's attention, however, was fixated on the copper- haired woman and her male companion. Surely, it couldn't be, and yet - it had to be! He didn't understand, for the pair of legend had left the Realm season-cycles ago, following the end of the Great War, disappearing as mysteriously and suddenly as they had arrived. But who else could they be? For here was the fiery-haired woman with the double aura and the man of such power that even a troll's insensitive eyes could see the blaze of his aura lighting the darkness like a soft blue flame. The young troll's mouth opened in a wide "O," baring double rows of thick, broad teeth, his eyebrows sinking helplessly beneath the prominent brow-ridge. The expression of mixed shock and wonderment was read as panic by Scully and she reached out to reassure him. "It's all right. We mean you no harm. I'm a healer. With your permission, I can see to your wounds." Jhorgab simply stared at her speechless. He clamped his mouth shut when he belatedly realized it was gaping open, then worked his tongue over his teeth in a desperate attempt to form sensible words. "I....I...you...." He gazed from one concerned face to another, ending up eye to eye with an obviously amused Shannon. She winked broadly at him, and the dam finally broke. "Thank you kindly, Warrior-Healer, but I am not seriously harmed. I am shamed to say that I was more frightened than hurt, thanks indeed to this fine lady-warrior." He nodded gravely at Shannon, though he never stopped babbling for a second. "It was quite foolish of me to wander out on my own. Krolgar is always scolding me for doing such things, it is just that I get so curious about all I see. This is my first trip out of my home and I have seen so many wondrous things. Though none as wondrous as you, Travelers. I apologize for not greeting you properly at once, but I had not known that you had returned to the Realm. We have been on the road for so long that news is sometimes slow catching up with us. Krolgar was supposed to bring a Mage with us, but they are few among our people, compared to yours, and ours could not be spared from the responsibilities at home. So we have had to do without, which is a terrible shame, I must say..." All three humans were staring at him with stunned expressions on their faces, and he choked himself off in mid- sentence, giving them a sheepish look. //I'd forgotten how talkative trolls are,\\ Mulder told Scully, his features relaxing into a smile as the young troll managed to turn even greener with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," Jhorgab said. "Even Krolgar says I talk too much. But personally I think he talks far more than me..." "That's okay," Shannon broke in. She grinned at him. "I'd guess you're feeling better?" Jhorgab shyly nodded his head, then tried to sit up. Scully gently restrained him for a moment, closing her eyes in concentration as she took a more thorough check of his injuries. A few bruises, some of which might be sore the next day, but she was able to speed the healing process along. It took only a few minutes and a spare expenditure of psychic energy, and she was satisfied. His own body's natural processes would do the rest quite well on it's own, for he was young and healthy. Letting go, she got to her feet beside Mulder. He reached out to support her, and when she leaned happily against him, it was less from exhaustion than from the simple pleasure of being close to him. Shannon helped the young troll to his feet, then stood looking down at him from her superior height. "I'm Shannon," she said. "Ahhh, my apologies dear lady," Jhorgab said expansively. He bowed towards, groaning softly as he did so, but managing to come upright again without too much trouble. "My name is Jhorgab H'arlgrath K'hogrok, of the northern Yyrthwup - which you call The Black Forest. I am here on a trading mission with my Uncle Krolgar H'ourketh K'algrath." "Nice to meet you...ummm. Jhorgab H'alg ummm...Korgrak," Mulder spoke up before the young troll got rolling again, stumbling quickly over the heavy-consonants. "My name is Fox Mulder, and this is Dana Scully." Jhorgab gave them each a sweeping bow, as best his thick barrel-like frame could manage. Giving them a toothy smile, he responded with excitement. "Ahh, yes. Mage Mulder. I have heard much about you. The tales are told every year on the anniversary of the great victory. I was only a wren-troll at the time, barely old enough to comprehend, but many of my relatives fought in The Battle. I have heard their stories many many times. I can recite them all by memory," he boasted hopefully. "Perhaps, another time," Scully said politely, "but now I think it would be wise to return to the inn. It is your uncle's caravan that is staying in the Shoreside Inn?" "Why yes," Jhorgab bobbed his head at her. "And you are staying there as well?" At their nods, he managed to widen his already large grin. "Ahh, such is good fortune for us. I must introduce you to my Uncle before we leave for the South tomorrow." As the troll began to speak, Shannon gave him a nudge, and all four began to walk back down towards the docks. Mulder fell in step behind the other three, Scully and Shannon walking on either side of the gesticulating young troll. "South?" Shannon yelled out, as it seemed the only way to get Jhorgab's attention. The troll responded easily, as though she had done no more than talk softly in his broad, flat ear. "Why yes, we are going to through Jinderling to Fairwood Glens to trade with the elves in the Spring Market Fair, and then on to Yellowfork and Dreegan." He gazed at Shannon with barely concealed delight. "Could it be, My Lady, that you, too, are traveling along our path?" At Shannon's look of horror, Scully couldn't help laughing, a light musical chuckle that was echoed in her mind by Mulder's silent amusement. "Yes, it does appear we are headed in the same direction, at least as far as Dreegan." //I know trolls can be annoying, but it might not be a bad idea to try to hook up with the caravan. It will make us a lot less conspicuous,\\ Mulder suggested to Scully while she spoke aloud. Scully agreed, and continued without breaking stride, "... since we are going the same way for quite a while, do you think your uncle might be willing to let us travel with you?" Jhorgab bounced with excitement. "I do not know...for sure...but I think it is quite possible. Yes, yes, indeed. I will speak to him this very night, if he is not too drunk, that is. He does so like that human ale, so he drinks far too much of it whenever we stop for a night. But I will speak to him most urgently, for I think it would be a sign of great good fortune were the three of you to travel with us. Ah yes, it would be most auspicious to have you with us. And I do not see how Krolgar can object, since he has complained most bitterly about the absence of our own Mage who could not travel with us because a terrible storm had caused much damage that must need be repaired. So Krolgar has been most annoyed with the lack of a Mage to stand guard and to clear the road before us. He should be quite pleased to have you accompany us, Mage Mulder, for you are so much more powerful than any troll Mage I have ever seen." Jhorgab finally stopped long enough to gasp for breath, then he hurried on, bobbing his head at both women. "And he can hardly complain of the addition of two such warriors." He gave Shannon an awestruck look, "Why you, My Lady, are a sword- fighter of such talent as I have never seen in my short life. And you, Healer Scully, while we have our own healer, another is never amiss. For one never can tell what might happen on such a long journey. Ah yes, I will speak to Krolgar at once." By the time Jhorgab had finished his speech, they had arrived back at the inn. When they stepped inside, they were struck by a loud din of off-key troll voices raised in song, accompanied by the clatter of glasses against wooden table tops. The one or two remaining humans were scurrying out the door, even as Mulder and Scully entered, following Shannon and Jhorgab. The young troll paused just inside the door, looked around, then shouted piercingly over the horrendous noise into Shannon's ear. "Well, perhaps the morning would be a better time." End of Chapter Seven THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eight The morning dawned bright and early. The hot sun mercilessly burned away the fog rising from the lake, stirring the townspeople into vigorous activity. The fisherman had left in the pre-dawn, but there was much to do on the homefront. The previous day's catch had to processed, dried and salted, or stored away in magically-chilled boxes for shipment to other settlements. It had been a late night for the three travelers, as the trolls had drunk and sung raucously, late into the night. Mulder awoke to the jangling sound of voices in the hall, feeling as though he had closed his eyes only moments before. Groaning, he rolled over, snuggling closer to Scully's warm, soft body, burying his face in the perfume-scented tumble of her auburn hair. Half-asleep, she muttered his name, turning to wrap her arms around his waist. Her mouth caught the edge of his jaw, then settled on the long arch of his neck. The promise of that treat woke her even more than a jarring crash in the hallway outside their door, and she began to lick and nibble at the taut skin. Mulder moaned beneath her, the sound half a protest at being woken from his sleep and half an encouragement. She ignored his response, too busy devouring the sinewy expanse of muscle and tendon that shifted beneath his satiny skin where his shoulder met his neck. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his legs slide across hers, bringing into the cradle of his thighs so that her belly rested closely against his groin. The burgeoning hardness she felt there made her own groin tingle with anticipation, and she began to run her fingertips up the length of his spine. //Good morning,\\ he whispered into her mind, the simple concept flowing on a wave of love and appreciation. //Mmmmm,\\ was all she sent back, sighing aloud as he returned her caresses, sliding one hand between their bodies to tease the rosy crest of her breast. A sudden sharp banging on the door was a too-short prelude to its flying open to admit a bouncing Jhorgab, his yellow eyes flashing with exhilaration. "Mage Mulder, Healer Scully, Lady Shannon!!" he shouted, bouncing up and down in the open doorway, only to stop short when he took in the appearance of the Mage and the healer. Wrapping the sheets around her, Scully turned to face him, still clasped in her lover's arms. Her sapphire eyes glared at him with surprise and obvious irritation through a tangle of burnished red hair. The young troll's eyes fled in embarrassment from her face, only to focus with bemusement on the exceedingly long expanse of Mulder's legs, stretched out bare on the mattress. He'd known humans had unusually spindly limbs, but these seemed remarkably thin and far too lengthy even for a human. How could the Mage possibly balance on them? Yet the Mage had appeared to move with extreme grace the night before. Magic! Jhorgab seized on the answer with great self- satisfaction. It had to be magic which allowed Mulder to balance on such improperly-sized legs. The little troll grinned. "What is it?" Scully demanded, seizing his attention away from his thoughts. Jhorgab's yellow eyes flew back to her face, and he bobbed his head apologetically at her. "Ummm, so sorry to disturb you Healer. Mage. But I was able to talk to Krolgar this morning and he is willing to speak with you. The dawn is past, and there is much trading to be done. So you must hurry and come now." //That was surprisingly short,\\ Mulder commented dryly to Scully. She threw him a sharp glance, then nodded formally at Jhorgab, somehow managing to keep her dignity intact. "Thank you, Jhorgab. Please tell your uncle that we will join him shortly." "Yes, Lady Healer. I will go tell him at once. He will await you in the dining room...." "That's good, Jhorgab. We'll see you soon." Mulder spoke definitively, cutting the troll's speech short. One glance at the Mage's set face and he decided a quick retreat was the better part of valor. Nearly leaping backwards, Jhorgab yanked the door shut behind him and scurried on down the hall. Mulder leaned back against the pillows with a sigh of frustration, rubbing at his eyes. //So much for our morning in bed.\\ His lower lip thrust outwards as he favored her with a look of disappointment. Scully chuckled at him, reaching down to stroke the dark locks of hair resting across his brow. //Guess we'll just have to make up for it later.\\ She gave him a dimpled smile which made her eyes glitter like sapphires, then dropped the sheet and stretched out languorously, yawning, extending both hands up towards the ceiling. His eyes snapped to her, focusing hard, then he slowly sat up to face her, reaching out to entwine his fingers with hers. //Do that again and you can forget later...\\ he growled into her mind, his thoughts awash with the liquid heat of his desire and appreciation. Her mouth curving in a slower, closed smile, she leaned in to him so that their mouths were almost touching, tightening her fingers around his. The hardened tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest, stirring the passion pouring between their minds and bodies. //Oh...yeah...\\ she murmured back, tasting the air from his lungs on her tongue, her eyes pinning his, and she began to rub against him. //Mmmhhhhuhhh\\ He gave up trying to form words, especially since they had never been that necessary between them. His photographic memory had a catalogue of images that he was more than ready to share, anxious to reproduce, augmented by the vividness of his imagination. Their lips touched, the rings on their fingers flashed blue and green fire, and then... "HEY, who was at the door..." Shannon stepped through the connecting door, rubbing at her eyes, then lowered her hands and stared. Her mouth fell open, and her hand flew up to cover it, attempting hopelessly to mask her giggles, while Mulder and Scully fell into a tangle amidst the sheets. Scully buried her face in Mulder's chest, her skin burning with embarrassment while Mulder swore vehemently into her mind. //DAMN IT!!! Can't we get ANY privacy around here?\\ - - - - - A quick half-candlemark later, the three humans went downstairs to find the Inn's main room turned into trading center. The trolls' wares were spread out on nearly every free surface, glittering jewelry and painted wooden tools sharing space with bundles of fine fabrics. Only the bar was free of merchandise, its scarred surface burdened instead with nourishment for the troll traders and their clients. Snagging a piece of fruit as she passed by, Shannon followed Mulder's tall figure as he pushed his way through the busy crowd, searching for Jhorgab's portly figure. "MAGE MULDER!!!" A piercing shout rose above the clatter, drawing Mulder's keen gaze towards the far corner. Jhorgab must have been standing on a chair or a table, as his thick-skulled head and broad torso appeared above the heads of his companions, his large hands waving frantically in mid-air. When he realized he had their attention, he grinned, urging them towards him with rapid gestures. Placing his hand on the small of Scully's back, Mulder guided her before him, Shannon slipping through the crowds easily in their wake. As they broke through to Jhorgab, the young troll hopped down and hurried over to take Mulder's arm. "This way, this way," he chattered at them. Krolgar rose when his nephew approached him with the three strangers, a slender, blue-cloaked human male towering over the small troll. Two human women followed, one with hair the color of the setting sun and warm-toned skin, the other dark-haired, olive- skinned. Krolgar bowed politely to the tall man, studying him intensely as he returned the greeting with easy grace. Despite the blue cloak, there did not appear to be anything so remarkable about this man. While Krolgar had fought in the great battle, he himself had never had the opportunity to meet the Great Mage or his life- bondmate. But he had seen the effects of Mage Mulder's power, as had everyone else in the Last Battle, and he found it hard to square that extraordinary display with the ordinary-looking man facing him. Jhorgab was excitedly urging the youthful-appearing Mage and his female companions into chairs, and Krolgar continued to study him. Despite a gangly appearance, with elongated arms and legs, Mulder moved with agility and grace, settling into his seat with a spare economy of motion. Krolgar knew human standards of beauty well enough to know that this face with its high flat forehead and arching cheekbones, the bones standing in strong relief beneath the fair skin, would be considered attractive, if not beautiful. But it was the eyes, which met Krolgar's intent yellow regard with calm assurance, that won some opening measure of respect. Piercing emerald glints within a sea of brown spoke of both intelligence and humor, qualities the troll merchant was pleased to find. "Thank you for seeing us this morning," Mulder said gravely. "I know this is a busy time." "Ahhh, I'm always glad to be of service," Krolgar replied with equal politeness. "Please join us in some tea and refreshments." He gestured to Jhorgab who rushed to serve the steaming beverage, placing the white-glazed mugs before Mulder first, then Scully and Shannon, before his Uncle and finally himself. Only when all five had taken sips of the potent brew did conversation resume. "Jhorgab tells us that you are going south to Fairwood Glens to trade with the elves," Mulder said, grasping his cup with one hand, while he rested the other negligently on the table top. "We are also headed there ourselves, to speak with Prince Mavor about certain personal business. Since we are both traveling to the same place, at the same time, we thought it might be worthwhile to travel together. We would be glad of the company, and I think we could, perhaps, be of some service to you." Krolgar gazed at him solemnly. "Perhaps so," he said grudgingly. Actually, if this man was indeed a proper Mage, whether he was the powerful one he claimed to be or not, they were in great need of his services. The trip ahead was long, and fraught with dangers, and the experienced merchant had been deeply uneasy about proceeding without a magician's help. Even so, he was suspicious of the man's claim to be whom he said he was. Certainly, he wore the Blue with confidence, and the woman at his side had some resemblance to the fabled Warrior-Healer, but it wasn't enough to convince Krolgar that they were who they said they were. Jhorgab drew in a deep breath, sensing his uncle's reluctance. Krolgar was by nature highly conservative and suspicious, and the youngster had had a difficult time getting his Uncle to accept that these humans might be who Jhorgab was convinced they were. "Uncle..." he began, but Krolgar shut him off with a sharp glance. "I can certainly use an extra pair of guards," he said doubtfully, looking from Scully to Shannon as though uncertain that two small human females could be of much use, then he focused his bright yellow eyes back on Mulder's face. "And a Mage would be useful on the journey." He tapped his five-inch fingers together, considering. "We would, of course, be expected to feed and shelter you in return for your assistance." Mulder agreed. "Yes, though we do have our own horses and bedding, as well as some basic supplies, including our own weapons." "Good," Krolgar replied. He paused, then his eyes narrowed, his tufty green eyebrows colliding above his flat nose. "I would like some assurance as to your ability before making any agreement, however." Jhorgab gasped and Shannon sat up straight in her chair, her entire body stiffening. But Mulder simply leaned back in his chair and inclined his head at the cautious merchant. "Of course," he said, casually lifting his cup to take another sip of his tea. "How would like to proceed?" "Can't you just read his aura?" Shannon asked, her voice edged with irritation at the slight to her beloved guardian. Jhorgab leaped in to answer her, shaking his large head vigorously. "No, no, dear Lady. I am afraid that we trolls have only limited sensitivity to auras unlike the elves and some humans and gargoyles. It is a shame, indeed, but we see only the faintest echo..." "Yes, well," Krolgar interrupted his nephew with an air of fond irritation. "I am sure the village Reader will be willing to confirm your aura for us." He glanced sharply at Mulder, who again nodded with calm assurance. "Good, then as soon as we have that assurance, we can talk further about the details of our arrangement. We plan to leave at dawn on the morrow, if that is satisfactory for you?" "Very," Mulder agreed. "Good," Krolgar said again, getting ponderously to his feet. He was massive, even for a troll, his barrel-shaped torso wider than the trunk of an oak tree. "I will send the innkeeper for the village Reader, in the meantime, you are welcome to stay and eat." Bowing to them with solemn politeness, he lumbered across the room to accost the harried innkeeper behind the bar counter, the crowd splitting before him. "I apologize deeply for my Uncle's doubts, Mage Mulder," Jhorgab said frantically as soon as Krolgar was out of earshot. He gestured widely. "He does not know the tales as well as I do, and though he fought in the Great Battle, he never was honored to see you or Healer Scully at the time. He does not mean any deliberate offense..." "It's all right, Jhorgab," Scully spoke up for the first time, having let Mulder do the talking, since most of the burden of the arrangement with the troll merchant would fall upon his shoulders. Her smile was genuine as she looked to the anxious young troll. "He has every right to assure himself that we can deliver what we promise. And the village Reader will have no trouble seeing Mulder's aura. We had not realized that trolls had difficulty in reading them." Jhorgab bobbed his head sadly. "Ahhh, yes. It is so. Elves have always been by far the best at seeing such things. I believe that the ability varies widely among both the gargoyles and humans such as yourself..." he paused to let them nod agreement with him, then continued. "But among my people, the talent is quite rare. I have some slight touch of it, which is why I can see just the faintest tinge of your aura, Mage Mulder." He spread his hands wide, shaking his head. "Such is as it must be. Once the Reader has confirmed you, Mage, then my Uncle will be satisfied. He is simply cautious by nature." "Not a bad thing to be," Scully replied warmly. "Do you think he will want to read Shannon and myself as well?" Jhorgab shook his head. "No, I do not think there is need. It is a Mage we need most desperately, and which must be verified." "Then if you don't mind, I'm going to go out to the stables and check on our horses. Mine seemed to be limping slightly when we came in yesterday and I want to make sure it wasn't serious." //Turning veterinarian?\\ Mulder teased fondly. //Certainly, unless you like the idea of riding double the rest of the way.\\ //I wouldn't mind,\\ he replied with an arched eyebrow. She grinned and gave him the mental equivalent of kick in the shin. He winced and she laughed. "Behave yourself, Mulder," she said aloud, getting up from her seat. "Don't worry," Shannon answered, winking at her. "I'll keep an eye on him for you." Mulder tossed a cloth napkin at her, though he couldn't help chuckling as he did so. Scully tousled his hair affectionately, then turned and slipped away easily, her petite figure disappearing quickly from view. When she was out of his sight, Mulder felt his stomach turn over, his entire body tensing. "Is something wrong?" Jhorgab asked as he saw the Mage's verdant eyes turn black. Mulder glanced up sharply, then forced himself to relax. "No," he answered, frowning, "No, it's nothing." He managed a slight smile, which appeased the troll, but did not satisfy Shannon. She gazed intently at him, and he gave her a barely perceptible shake of his head. "I'm fine," he reassured her. She cocked her head at him, not fully believing him, but already he was turning to watch Krolgar pushing his way back towards their table. - - - - - Five pairs of eyes watched as the lovely, auburn haired woman knelt beside the large dun-colored horse, her small, yet capable hands massaging the animal's right foreleg. Her blue eyes were shuttered in concentration, her body swaying slightly to an internal rhythm as she worked. She did not respond as they moved closer, shifting among the shadows of the old barn, signaling each other with smirks and winks, carefully hiding their mocking laughter behind dirty hands. Their self-appointed ringleader eyed his intended prey with gluttonous eyes, for he had been deprived of the previous evening's fun by a dark-haired fury, the thought of which only fed the fire of the rage boiling in his gut. Neither he nor any of his comrades thought twice of what they were about to do. Like many of the Realm's youth, their immature minds were easily turned to hatred and self-satisfaction by the malaise that had spread like a cancer throughout the land in the past few weeks. The only thought that ran in circles through their heads was the desire of the moment, to take what they saw in front of them with no regard for law or consequences. And so they converged upon their unknowing victim, her clever mind so focused on the task at hand, that she saw nothing, heard nothing, until they were already upon her. - - - - - Shannon was chatting happily with Jhorgab when Krolgar returned, trailed by a plump, tiny matron, dressed in a elaborately- embroidered yellow tunic and red leggings. The sharp points of elven ears poked up amidst a mane of platinum curls, and her bright green eyes were clear and steady. Jhorgab and Shannon's conversation broke off quickly as they approached, both staring up with open curiosity at the newcomer. Krolgar offered her a seat with great politeness, then pointed to Mulder with a beringed, elongated forefinger. "This is the one, Reader Murtha." She nodded and gazed openly at the blue-cloaked man who was relaxing in his chair, his face coolly inexpressive. Without sitting up straight, Mulder inclined his head towards her in acknowledgment, then abruptly, like the sun breaking through the clouds, he smiled. "What would you like me to do, Reader?" he asked, his warm voice rich with barely restrained good humor. Murtha smiled in return, pleased to find herself reading someone who did not seem discomfited by the process. Most people, no matter how confident of who they were, could not help being nervous when being Read by an expert. But she could already sense that this man was not disturbed by the process at all. Glancing around her, she found a blank wall that while not completely white, was at least a dull, unremarkable shade of gray. Turning back to Mulder, she asked him politely to go stand against it. The corners of his mouth uplifted with amusement, he did as she requested. She followed him over, standing dwarfed in front of him, the top of her head barely reaching his belly button. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to still her mind and focus her senses, then instructed him to relax his shields. Mulder nodded, leaning his back against the wall and letting his own eyes shut as he made a quick, well-practiced mental shift. It took no more than a second for him to release the tight barriers he had learned to hold around the power that ran through his veins like electricity through a powerline, and he could feel it surge outwards, swirling against his controls like a wild creature, desperate for its freedom. Murtha 'felt' that release, and the sense of power almost overwhelmed her even before she opened her eyes. The moment she did so, she cried out, throwing up an arm to shade her eyes. The Blue glow that surrounded this man was so strong it dazzled her eyes, burned its way into her mind, leaving a thousand sparks to flutter across the insides of her clamped eyelids. Gasping, she stumbled to her knees, sobbing out, "Shield, shield, you must shield!" But before Mulder could reign in the force that raged around him, coating his figure with a glorious blue flame, a wrenching scream shattered into every inch of his mind and soul. //MULDER!\\ //SCULLY!\\ he cried, both verbally and psychically, his entire body shaking with panic. He felt every measure of her experience, the sudden break in concentration, a sharp stab of pain and surprise, followed by a jolt of fear and anger. Then there was silence, an emptiness where the vivid presence of her mind should be, the other half of his soul turning cold with her abrupt absence. "SCULLY!" he yelled again, and then he was running, physically throwing people out of the way as he blindly flew towards his last sense of his bondmate's presence. "Mulder!" Shannon called after him, even as she broke into a run, forcing her way into the space left by his passing, leaping over people and objects that had fallen to the ground in his wake. The trolls were slower to follow, Krolgar stopping to give the shaken elf a hand up before dragging her after the rampaging Mage. - - - - - Mulder broke out into the yard, swung to his left, and ran towards the stables, his mind awash with horror. Whatever had happened to Scully had been too quick for him to catch more than a glimpse of it, and the empty silence at the end of their life-bond terrified him more than anything else could ever have done. She was still alive, that much he knew, and he held to that precious understanding like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood. Without her life itself would lose all meaning, and the pain of that loss would be more than he could tolerate and remain sane. Even the possibility of it made his stomach tie up in knots, the cramp in his belly almost doubling him over in agony as he ran towards the last image he had received from her mind before it had been torn away in a sudden flash of pain. His breath burned his lungs, his skin leached blue sparks, the air around him glittering as though filled with a thousand tiny blue fireflies. "Scully, Scully, Scully...." he moaned her name over and over, as he dashed across the few small yards between the Inn and its stable. At last, he broke through the wide, wooden doors which led to the musty smelling stables, the air thick with the scent of animal sweat and manure. His eyes darkened to pure ebony, the storm in them echoed in the air, the daylight fleeing before a roiling mass of clouds that burst upon the sky above, showering the yard behind him with buckets of ice-cold rain. He stood framed in the doorway, poised on the balls of his feet, his form and features framed with azure brilliance, forcing all who followed to hide their eyes. Lightning flashed, striking the ground a spare inch behind his feet with a deafening roll of thunder, and then he moved again, bolting swiftly into the shelter of the barn. The crash of thunder forced the five youths to pause in their assault upon their unconscious victim, all turning to face the avenger who leaped upon them with hardly a second's notice. Mulder's cry was torn from his lips, a sound barely human, the intensity of his rage boiling the very blood in his veins. His hands closed on the nearest boy with hands made powerful by emotion and magic, tossing the hapless thug several feet in the air, before reaching for the next. The remaining three scattered away from him, but were halted in their tracks by a single command, their legs frozen in a swirl of blue fire that wound first around their ankles, then coursed up across their entire bodies, imprisoning them in a cage of threaded flame. Another sharp word sliced the air, accentuated by a violent clap of thunder from the raging storm outside, and all five were lifted up into the air and gathered together into a tight bundle of terrified humanity. Cowering in abject terror they shielded their eyes from the fury that faced them, Mulder's tall, slender form framed by a shimmering column of white and blue light. As he reached his hands towards the roof of the barn, his velvet voice flowed outward in a hypnotic, driving rhythm. Behind him, Shannon, the trolls, and the elven Reader stopped short in the doorway, eyes shielded behind upraised arms, clothes and hair soaked through from the torrential rain. "Mulder!" Shannon tried to call out, but he was beyond hearing, beyond anything but wreaking vengeance for the pain inflicted on his beloved one. And so he chanted, the clatter of rain, the crash of thunder, the rush of the air itself providing harmony to the demands of his call. He weaved the very elements themselves into his spell, wrapping himself in power so intense that the earth itself shook beneath his feet. His voice rose, louder, rasping against the edge of his physical limits, until with one last hoarse exclamation, he gestured with hands coated in strands of pure energy, lightning bolts lancing from his fingertips to strike the trapped five boys in rapid succession. Their voices clamored in shrieks of terror and agony, as the light surrounding them intensified to the point that none of the onlookers could do more than cover their eyes and turn away. The sounds erupted into high-pitched screams, then with one last clap of thunder, were silenced. Huddled in the doorway, shaking with cold, Shannon, Murtha, Krolgar and Jhorgab waited for a seeming eternity before daring to lift their heads. Shannon was the first to open her dazed eyes, bolting to her feet when she realized that the storm had abated as quickly as it had arose, leaving clear daylight to filter down upon the sea of mud that moments before been a neatly tended courtyard. Turning to stare into the barn, she saw Mulder bent on his knees beside a still form on the hay-covered floor, and with a sob, she raced to his side. "Scully?" she gasped as she fell to her knees beside the now-spent Mage. "She's alive," Mulder breathed the words through a raw throat and parched lips, his powerful hands now tender as they stroked the red strands of hair away from his bondmate's face. He lifted her up across his lap, cradling her head against his chest. "She's alive..." he whispered again, tears streaking unnoticed down his cheeks. His eyes fell on the rips in her clothing and the bruises forming along her jaw and temple, and his expression darkened yet again. The sky darkened in response, and Shannon reached instantly, anxiously to soothe him down. "We'd better get her inside and call a healer," she told him breathlessly, praying he had calmed down enough to listen. She didn't know what exactly had just happened, but she knew she did not want it repeated. But Mulder, as grief-stricken as he was, heard the calm sense in her words, and nodded without turning to look at her. Taking Scully up into his arms, he got to his feet and turned towards the door. Bearing his precious burden, he walked unheeding past the trolls, across the yard, and into the Inn. Not a soul dared stand in his way, all scurrying out of his path. Shannon followed quickly, leaving Murtha and the two trolls to stare into the barn with shocked eyes. The horses were all grouped into the far corner, neighing with terror, sweat dripping from their hides, as they jockeyed for position as far away from the center of the barn as possible. The three onlookers felt their own sweat mingle with the water drenching their clothes as their dilated eyes focused belatedly on the only other living inhabitants of the barn. In the space held only seconds before by five young men were five large waterhogs, squealing in panic as they circled each other, their round pink snouts nosing helplessly at the crumpled remnants of clothing laying tattered beneath their hooves. - - - - - The town meeting room was crammed from wall to wall with people, humans squeezed next to elves, mixed with a strong contingent of the visiting trolls. Most sat uncomfortably on the hard wooden stools, while others remained standing, pressed up against the walls and crammed into the tight corners. The air was hot and heavy with more than the press of bodies, tempers were raised, voices shouting one over another until they were indistinguishable from the general clamor. Here and there a word would rise above the others, one following senselessly behind another in a raging tumult. Scully leaned against Mulder's shoulder, feeling his own exhaustion as heavily as she felt her own. The troll healer had done a fine job of easing her bruises and curing her headache, though she knew she'd have a painful lump on the side of her head for at least a couple days. Still, it was nothing she couldn't handle. The worst hadn't been her own injuries, it had been Mulder's awakened horror at nearly losing her. They had come closer than this to losing each other before, but each time it happened, the agony of the possible loss seemed to increase. As the bond between them strengthened, the possibility of separation, injury or death became a more potent threat. Try as he might, Mulder had been unable to hide from her the terror of those moments when he had felt her cry for help, then had found her laying senseless on the barn floor. She still didn't have full comprehension for what he had done then, perhaps because it was hardly clear in his own mind, but she knew it had been terrible for him. And the consequences were clear. The parents of the five boys who had assaulted her were up in arms over the bespelling of their precious sons into waterhogs, which had soon precipitated the present chaotic situation. Scully sighed, wishing desperately that she and Mulder could be curled up in their bed, any bed, asleep in each other's arms, rather than seated on those hard, backless stools listening to people scream insults at one another. Mulder shifted on his stool, his arms tightening around her shoulder. She nestled her head against his chest, reaching up to twine her fingers with his. He nuzzled the top of her head, his gratitude for her presence, warm and alive against him, bathed her mind in a soft glow, and she responded with an unconditional flow of love and reassurance. //I'm all right,\\ she told him yet again, not begrudging him the need to hear it. If it had been the other way around...no...she shied away from that thought, unable to bear even the possibility of it. //I love you,\\ he told her, perhaps for the dozenth time since she had woken in their bed that afternoon. //I love you, too,\\ she replied, squeezing, then releasing his fingers. The village council was desperately trying to regain control of the meaning, and she turned her attention to the gray-haired elder as he pounded on the table. "SILENCE!!!" The elder's gravely voice demanded respect, and finally won it. With a few last grumbling comments thrown out from scattered corners of the room, a heavy quiet descended on the room. When the last voice had stilled, leaving only the sounds of a hundred lungs drawing air, the elder stood up straight and spoke slowly and clearly. "All who wish to speak may do so, but singly and without disturbance. The next person to shout out of turn will be removed from this assembly, is that clear?" There were a few grumbles amidst a muttering swell of approval, but the elder's steel gaze was unrelenting as he swept the room. When he was satisfied he was understood by all present, he nodded and waved his hand at an unkempt woman standing by the edge of the dais. "All right Ubeena, you may speak now." "About time," she muttered, before turning to shout out at the group. "This is an outrage. My boy has been bespelled against his will by a power-mad Mage. My Gort was an innocent youth, barely in his teens, he would never hurt anyone. I DEMAND that he be returned to himself and that the one responsible for this outrage be punished!" Nodding in satisfaction at her own words, she plopped back down onto her stool, amidst a groundswell of murmurs. The Elder stood again, his firm stance silencing the noise before it broke out into shouts again, then he waved at a man standing in the center of the room. "Ubeena may be able to fool herself about her son's character, but anyone with any sense knows full well that these 'boys' have been nothing but trouble to all decent citizens. Barely a week before this, they assaulted my little girl while she was taking medicine to her aunt. If her cousin had not been nearby, who knows what they might have done to her? They have terrorized all of the younger children, and caused trouble with many visitors to this village. Now they have attacked a healer during her trance, a very serious crime. They could have killed her, or worse, left her mind trapped within the animal she was attempting to heal. It is time we stopped making allowances for them. The Mage was well within his rights to protect the life of his life-bondmate. No man would have done differently. Personally, I find the chosen punishment both fair and sensible. Since the boys act like animals, let them live like animals." "Liar!" Ubeena was on her feet, screaming at the top of her very capable lungs. "You are jealous because my Gort is a strong young man, and you can only father weaklings." "That's enough!" the elder shouted, but another of the parents was on his feet shouting out his rage. "How dare you insult my Fehrek that way! He was a good boy! Make the evil Mage pay for what has been done to him." "Fehrek was a spoiled brat, who needed a good thrashing instead of being doted on by a fool like you, Fergan," someone jeered from the back of the room. "SILENCE!!!" The elder shouted again, but this time no one listened to him. The argument exploded, fists being raised in anger, until a clear, bell-like voice rang out above it all. "That is enough! Stop this at once." The crowd parted, shouts dying off in mid-air to allow the tiny figure of Murtha to walk through to the dais. Two men hurried forward to help her up to the center of the platform, then stood back as she straightened her tunic, then turned to face the waiting crowd. "This kind of behavior is unacceptable. We are acting like fools, ruled by whims rather than good sense. There is not a person in this room, even you, Ubeena, who does not know, truly, that these boys were great trouble for the village." Murtha silenced Ubeena with a fiery emerald glance, forcing the woman to sit back down on her stool, glowering helplessly as the little elf continued to speak. "This is not the first time they have deliberately caused injury to others, and they should have been held accountable long before this. We should never have allowed it to reach the point that they felt they could attack a healer with impunity. And we should be gratefully that Healer Scully was no more hurt than she was. Nonetheless, this is a serious crime, and should be dealt with severely. It is a shame that Mage Mulder had to act as he did, but I can find no fault with his choice of punishment. In fact, these boys and their families should be grateful that he chose to let them live at all, for it would have been well within his rights to take their lives in payment for the injuries done to his life-bondmate. Few men, and even fewer Mages would have shown such mercy. If I were you, Ubeena, I would get down on your knees and thank the Goddess for helping the Mage show such restraint." The elf turned towards Mulder and Scully, listening intently to her, Scully still nestled into Mulder's arms. "I apologize Mage Mulder and Healer Scully for this shameful occurrence. I assure you it will not happen again." Her emerald eyes traveled firmly across the room, stopping to blaze at each parent, silencing their protests without a word being spoken. With quiet dignity, she hopped down from the platform and walked back to her seat. There was silence for a moment, then Ubeena finally whined, "But what about my boy?" "Let him stay as he is for a while. Goddess knows it's an improvement in his appearance, at least," another voice ridiculed from the center of the crowd. Laughter broke out widely, breaking the tension in the room. The elder pounded for quiet again, though he, too, could not help smiling at the quip. When most of the mirth had quieted off, Mulder relaxed his hold on Scully and stood up, signaling the elder that he wanted to speak. The elder nodded at him. "Thank you," Mulder told him politely, pausing to choose his words with care. "It would be senseless to blame the entire village for the actions of five boys, but if you knew they were a danger, then you should have acted sooner to restrain them from causing harm. For that I do hold you all responsible. Healer Scully could have been killed or seriously injured if I had not been able to get to her in time, and I will not apologize for my actions towards these young men. They are old enough to know what they did was wrong. The spell I put on them should wear off within in a moon- cycle. However, if I ever hear that they have hurt another innocent person again, I promise you, I will return, and this time the spell will be permanent. I leave it to you to decide how to handle them once the spell has run its course." Bowing to the elder, Mulder sat back down on his stool. Scully took his hand in hers, sending him a wave of support and approval thought their bond. There were nods of approval throughout the room, spotted here and there with frowns, mostly from relatives of the five youths. The elder bent his gray head to whisper with the other members of the council, then he stood up tall on the dais. "It is the decision of this council that the punishment meted out by Mage Mulder for the assault upon Healer Scully is acceptable and just. Gort, Fehrek, Lorgan, Kiplin, and Bavin will remain in their transformed state until the spell wears off naturally. Hopefully, by that time they will have learned their lesson. In the meantime, on behalf of the entire village, we offer Healer Scully our apologies and sincere well wishes." "Thank you," Scully said softly, just glad that the entire event seemed to coming to a close. Her head was beginning to ache again, and all she wanted was the warmth of her bed. As if in answer to her unspoken wishes, the elder pounded once more on the table and declared the meeting closed. Mulder gathered her up wrapping his arm around her, and guided her through the rows of stools, pressed in on every side by the mass of beings all attempting to leave at once. Just as they stepped out gratefully into the fresh night air, a cold whisper sounded in her ear, and then was gone. "You'll pay for this..." - - - - - By the time Mulder, Scully and Shannon had returned from the town meeting, Krolgar had most of the caravan packed and ready to go. Mulder's display that morning had been more than convincing, it had, indeed, been truly frightening. But the troll merchant had a solid head on his massive shoulders, and it did not take much thinking to recognize just how much use a Mage of such power could be. If, Goddess forbid, they ran into bandits or other dangers, Mulder's wild talent could be the difference between life and death. So even though Krolgar's skin blanched a pale chartreuse at the thought of suffering through another Mage storm such as the one he had just witnessed, he was not willing to give up the additional safety Mulder's presence would obviously provide. Therefore, when Mulder and the two women returned to the Inn, they found the troll merchant waiting for them, wringing his hands in distress, yet overflowing with well-wishes. "I am so glad that you are unhurt, Healer Scully, and also that these foolish human villagers have come to their senses. To allow younglings to behave in such a frightful manner, well, it is most shocking. Most shocking." "Thank you Krolgar," Scully said wearily. "Please tell Gyruth that I very much appreciate his efforts to ease my wounds today. He is a fine healer and I am quite grateful." Krolgar smiled expansively. "Ahh, I will tell him so, and he will be most delighted with praise from such a fine healer as yourself. But then, you can also tell him yourself. For we will be traveling together, will we not?" Mulder gave him a surprised look. Although he had not given it much thought, Mulder had simply assumed that after his display of magical histrionics that morning, no sane person would want him around for long. Excepting Scully and Shannon of course. "Are you sure you want us with you?" he asked. Krolgar bobbed his head. "Of course. There can be no doubt of your ability, Mage Mulder." The troll's eyebrows climbed up under his brow ridge as though accentuating the understatement. "I see no reason for us not to proceed as planned. In fact, I had hoped that, with your acceptance, we will leave here within the hour." "Tonight? But why not wait until after we have a good night's sleep?" Mulder eyed Scully with great concern, taking in the paleness of her complexion and the heavy shadows beneath her unusually dull eyes. More than anything else, he wanted to get her into bed and hold her while she slept. "Mulder," Scully spoke softly, unable to disguise her weariness. "I'm afraid Krolgar may be right. I think we should leave tonight." "You're exhausted, Scully. You need rest," Mulder insisted. "Mulder's right," Shannon seconded, looking at the older woman with heartfelt concern. "You really need to get some sleep." "She can sleep in one of our wagons," Krolgar offered. He waved expansively. "You can all three do so, if you wish. We can easily bring along your horses and supplies, so that you can ride again once you have gotten some sleep. There is plenty of room, if you do not mind resting upon bundles of cloth." "Thank you, Krolgar," Scully told him. Seeing Mulder was about to protest, she reached up to touch his lips gently. //Mulder, I think it would be a good idea to leave here quickly. While most of the villagers accept that you did the right thing this afternoon, there are a few who are angry. Perhaps this is another symptom of the general unease in the Realm, such as you saw in Fawnleaf, I don't know. But I think we would be safer if we left here tonight.\\ //Are you sure?\\ Mulder questioned. "Yes, I'm sure," Scully said aloud, trying to include Shannon in the conversation. She turned to smile at the young girl. "I think it would be safer if we left here as soon as possible. I can sleep as well in one of the wagons as I could in any bed tonight. Right now I'm so tired, I think I could sleep upright in the saddle." "That will not be necessary, healer," Krolgar said approvingly. He already liked this flame-haired woman. Despite the attack on her, she had not once complained. Obviously, she was as stout of heart as any troll, and though far too thin, she was of the right stature for him to meet her eyes without having to look up. If she proved to half as capable a healer as her bondmate was a Mage, then she would be a true gift to the caravan. "Come, I will show you where to store your belongings, and where you can sleep..." With typical efficiency, he urged the three tired humans through the inn and out into the yard, now filled with bustling activity. In less time than they could have imagined, they were packed and on their way. - - - - - The slow pitch and sway of the wagon proved surprisingly soothing. Curled up against his side, Scully was asleep within minutes of leaving the village of Coldshores, and even Mulder the insomniac was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. Shannon was stretched out on his other side, her breathing settling down into peaceful slumber, and for the first time that day, Mulder felt a small sense of contentment. He still had a lot to think about, however, especially the deep sense of unease he felt about his explosion that morning. He didn't feel sorry for the results - those thugs deserved the punishment he had meted out - but he couldn't escape a small element of panic regarding his own loss of control. What if he had simply blasted them out of existence, or worse yet, what if had managed to destroy the entire town? When he was gripped in that kind of rage, he could be blind to his surroundings, and nothing stole away his control more than the possibility of losing Scully. She was his life, his soulmate, his partner, his love, without her he was less than whole. Without her he could not survive. Sighing, he tightened his arms around her, sending a simple prayer of thanksgiving to any and all Gods who might be listening, that she was still alive and by his side where she belonged. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do, what he could do, about controlling this raging beast that was his Mage talent, but somehow, as long as Scully was with him, it seemed less of an obstacle. Kissing the crown of her fiery head, he closed his eyes and let the steady motion of the wagon rock him to sleep. End of Chapter Eight THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Nine When Mulder awoke, strands of golden light were filtering in through the canopy, playing across his face and hands. Yawning and stretching, he rubbed at his eyes, then sat up carefully. The wagon swayed beneath him, then jerked against a rough spot, forcing him to grab on to a nearby bundle of linen for support. Beside him, Scully stirred in her sleep, then turned over towards him, nestling her head against his side. Instinctively, he reached down to gently stroke the gilded tangle of her hair, strands of sunlight weaving with the flame- colored locks. His hand reluctant to leave her, his sense of curiosity nonetheless pulled him away. Kneeling on a large pile of embroidered rugs, he undid the woven latch and opened the flap, blinking away tears as his eyes strove to adjust to the bright morning sun. "Good morning, Mage Mulder," a far too cheery voice rang out. Mulder peeked his head all the way out, hanging onto a side-strut holding up the pale leather covering. It had been bespelled to keep the worst of the Realm's summer storms out, and his magic-sensitive hands could sense the tingle of the spell within the material itself. "Good morning," a more sedate voice echoed, though Shannon's face was wreathed with a smile. Dressed in her now- customary green tunic and black leggings, the girl sat poised and confident on horse-back, towering over the little troll riding at her side. Mulder returned her grin wryly, his usually keen eyes still fogged with sleep. "Good morning Shannon, Jhorgab." He looked upward to check the position of the sun in the sky, and nearly groaned aloud when he saw how close to mid-position it was. Jhorgab followed the Mage's emerald eyes, chuckling with amusement. "You and Healer Scully missed most of the morning, I am afraid, as well as a quite fine breakfast. But we thought it would be best to let you rest fully. Besides, we will be stopping for the midday meal within a candlemark." He lifted his broad, flat nose up into the air, sniffing appreciatively. "Already H'Gorpat is beginning to prepare the meal. He is one of the finest cooks in all of the Realm, as you shall soon find out." Shannon laughed, then rubbed gingerly at her belly. "I'll have to admit Jhorg is right about that. I'm still stuffed from breakfast." Jhorgab looked appreciatively at her. "Indeed, dear lady. If you continue to eat as you did this morning you will soon look much more healthy. You are far too thin indeed. But with a few weeks of proper eating, you will fill out nicely. I believe you might even become attractive...even despite your legs which are far too elongated for true beauty." Mulder couldn't stifle his laughter at the look of dismay that dawned on Shannon's face, even as she turned to glare at the round little troll. He gazed innocently back at her, forcing Mulder into open laughter. They both turned to glare at him, and he tried, unsuccessfully to stifle his laugher. Between chuckles, he observed to Jhorgab, "I think human and troll standards of attractiveness are rather different." Jhorgab's expression lightened and he chuckled in return. "Ah yes, that is a wise observation, Mage Mulder. I have found it to be quite so. Once, I remember an occasion in which a human trader was visiting with my uncle. He had a daughter whose beauty he was much proud of, but I have yet to see a more ugly person in my life. Why she was thinner than a stick, except for her chest and hips, which were quite ungainly. I could never figure out how she managed to balance, for unlike you, Mage Mulder, she did not have the aid of magic to keep her upright on such horrendously long legs...." Mulder's mouth dropped open, even as he shot Shannon a glare. The girl was trying so hard not to laugh that tears welled up in the corners of her caramel-colored eyes. "Yeah, well..." Mulder tried to cut Jhorgab's spiel off, waving his hand. "To each his own," he muttered, moving on quickly to change the topic. "Where are we now?" "About one fourth the way between Coldshores and Fairwood Glens," Jhorgab replied. We are nearing the southernmost edge of Fairwood Forest, and should be in sight of the Uriin plains by mid-afternoon. If all goes well, we will arrive in Jinderling by nightfall." Mulder had forgotten that they had to pass by the Uriin plains, and his expression darkened. Even the name itself was enough to stir his perfect memory. Images of horrors he could only wish to forget swirled before his inner eye, and he silently cursed the "gift" of his eidetic memory. Some things should be allowed to fade with time, but he would never be given such surcease. "Are you all right?" Shannon asked him anxiously. Forcing the memories down, Mulder consciously tried to lighten his expression. Damping down his shield, he forced away the clouds that had begun to simmer in the formerly clear blue sky. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to smile reassuringly at her. "Yes. I just have some bad memories of the plains. It is where the Battle was fought the last time I was in the Realm." He couldn't quite hide his shudder. Jhorgab clapped his hand over his mouth, his skin tone darkening to a deeper emerald as he remembered. "Ah, I am sorry. I should have known better than to mention that place to you. Please accept my apologies, Mage Mulder. I was quite thoughtless and...." "It's all right," Mulder interrupted, smiling more genuinely. He ran a distracted hand through his thick dark hair, dislodging a wave of it down over his forehead. "We have to pass by there to get to Fairwood Glens, and there is no reason for you not to mention it. Besides, there is no sense in blaming the place for what occurred there." Shannon nodded, though her eyes were somber. "Still, it must be hard for you and Scully to go there again." Mulder gazed warmly at her, appreciating her understanding. "Yes, it is." "Mulder?" Scully's voice rang out from within the wagon, filled with worry and concern. He turned and ducked his head back inside to find her gazing at him with wide, sleepy eyes. It was obvious she had sensed his upset, and he reached out both physically and mentally to reassure her. //I'm all right. Just a couple of bad memories.\\ The sharing of the substance of his previous conversation was nearly instantaneous, and her heart-shaped face sombered with memories of her own. //It seems like it happened just yesterday,\\ she responded, stretching her hands out to draw him close to her. He enclosed her in his embrace, and she snuggled into his chest. He lightly kissed the crown of her head, feeling all of the tension in his body leach away in the comfort of her closeness. //I know, but here it was seven years ago. And it is all over, the...*they* are long gone from this world. We won the battle, love.\\ //I know,\\ she agreed, lifting up huge sapphire eyes to gaze lovingly at his face. //I just wish the cost hadn't been so high.\\ - - - - - Lunch was even better than promised, and far more abundant. Trolls loved nothing more than good food, and even under the relative hardship required by long travel, they saw to that primary concern. H'Gorpat set out seeming mounds of fresh bread and hot steaming tea, along with copious quantities of a thick stew. Even after refreshing themselves and changing clothes, by the time the short midday stop was over, both Mulder and Scully were feeling unusually lethargic. //I just slept for over twelve hours and I feel ready to take another nap,\\ Scully confided ruefully to her bondmate as she pushed herself up onto her horse. His laughter echoed in her mind. //I know. I doubt I'll be able to eat another bite for at least two days.\\ She laughed aloud. //Don't make promises you can't keep,\\ she chided warmly. //That metabolism of yours will burn it off in a few hours. Now mine on the other hand...\\ She scowled at her belly, which felt, if not appeared, bloated with all she had just consumed. Sitting easily in his saddle, Mulder studied her petite, but well-muscled form with an approving eye. //I don't think you have anything to worry about,\\ he complimented, not bothering to hide his pleasure at the sight of her. She turned her head to smile at him, dimples forming in her cheeks as the warmth in her eyes blazed between them. She did not even bother forming words in her reply, the two of them slipping into one of those precious moments of total communion in which the entire world narrowed down to the two of them alone and intertwined. Mulder's horse bolted to the side, and he gasped, his link with Scully breaking focus as he fought to keep his seat. Finally soothing the upset beast, he glanced behind him to find Shannon glaring at him with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "You promised, remember!" she accused lightly. Mulder glanced at Scully expecting her to share his annoyance, but she merely smiled. Turning to Shannon she apologized with good humor. "You're right. I'm sorry." Urging her horse forward, she called back over her shoulder. "I'm going to go talk with Gyruth. While Corvay did cover some troll medicine with me, there was never time for me to learn more than the basics. If we run into trouble on this trip, I'd like a better sense of what I'm doing." Mulder's entire body tensed as she drew further ahead of him, and it was all he could do to keep from stirring his horse after her. He swallowed hard, just barely holding himself back. //Don't go too far,\\ he told Scully through their link, despite the promise not to mind-speak so often in Shannon's presence. Understanding filtered back to him from Scully's bright mind, and he suddenly *saw* the lifebond stretched between them, a long filigree of blue and green and white light, woven strands that gleamed like a gilded umbilical cord. He blinked and it was gone, at least to visible sight, though he could still feel it between them like an outstretched rubber band. Shannon came up beside him, a sudden look of concern darkening her fine features. He shook his head, then turned to bestow a gentle smile on his young halla. "Perhaps you would like to start those magic lessons now?" Her entire face glowed with a sudden burst of excitement. "Oh yes, please, Taabsut Mulder. I'd like that very much. What should I do?" "Hmmm." He looked around thoughtfully as they automatically eased their horses between two wagons, letting the horses almost guide themselves within the caravan. The forest was giving way to rolling countryside as they got closer to the plains. The mountains were visible in the distance, their sheer cliffs and jagged snow-capped peaks looming against the clear sky. "I don't know how this will work while riding, perhaps we should see if we can use a wagon." Mulder spurred his horse forward, and Shannon followed close behind, her impatience making her eyes sparkle and her heart beat faster. To her mind it took forever, but at long last, with Krolgar's indulgent permission, she and Mulder settled into the same wagon they had slept in the night before. "Take it easy," Mulder told her, though he couldn't help being amused by her excitement. That had been his greatest problem with these very same lessons, and it had taken quite a while before his exuberance had stopped getting in the way of his control. She would obviously have to learn the same lesson. "Okay," she grinned at him, folding her hands in her lap and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to appear calm and proper. Mulder shook his head, allowing himself a small smile before his face settled into total calm. "Lesson number one...how to ground..." "How to what?" He sighed. "This is rather hard to explain, but it is absolutely necessary." He thought for a moment. "Think of it in terms of electricity. Magic seems to follow some of the same principles. You know what happens if you touch an electrical outlet without being grounded?" She nodded. "Yes, you get shocked." "Exactly. So, in order to use magical energy without getting the shock of your life, you have to ground yourself. Only unlike electrical grounding, magical grounding is a mental exercise. But if it helps, you can think of it as reaching down into the earth. Try that now. Close your eyes and concentrate. Think of reaching first within yourself, then down towards the earth. Imagine yourself connected to the earth itself." Shannon frowned, closing her eyes, and trying to do what he was describing. She thought and thought, but nothing seemed to be changing. She didn't feel any different that she had before. Finally, she opened her eyes in frustration. "I don't feel *anything*!" Mulder sighed. "I know. I guess I could feel it quicker because I had so much more power to work with. OK, let's try something else. Maybe you need to feel the power itself first before you can ground it." He paused, then spoke thoughtfully. "Try this instead. Close your eyes and relax." She looked doubtfully at him, but did as he instructed. "Good, now imagine yourself sitting in a darkened room. There is nothing around you but blackness. Can you imagine that?" "Yes." "All right, now lift up your hand and imagine all of your energy pouring down your arm and into the palm of your hand. Imagine that you can see it and feel it. A blue light that tingles as it moves. Feel it, see it, guide it down into the palm of your hand. Can you see it there?" "No," Shannon shook her head, eyes still screwed shut. Her outstretched hand trembled, then abruptly, her entire arm shook. Her expression lightened, a look of sheer amazement replacing the frown. Her fingers uncurled, and her hand began to glow with a pale bluish sheen. "Wait, I can....I can feel it!" she exclaimed. "It feels kind of like I've got goosebumps, or a bad case of static. It tingles!!" "Yes, good," Mulder replied, leaning forward. "Now..." Before he could finish, her hand blazed up in sudden glory, tendrils of azure fire pouring out of her fingers and sparking into the air. Shannon cried out, her eyes opening to stare in shock as her arm appeared to burst into open flame. She shrieked, moving to flail her arm against the linens they were seated upon in an attempt to extinguish the fire. Her mind thought that it ought to be burning her, so she felt the pain, though in fact her skin remained whole and unbroken. However, her panic was stirring the power to rage beyond control and a flash of thunder came as a warning from the previously cloudless sky. Mulder grabbed for her arm, restraining her, letting her power race up his arm and swirl into his own aura which blazed up to bathe them both in a soft blue glow. "Easy...easy..." he murmured, concentrating hard as he drew his shield tightly around them both. Shannon gasped as the flames swamping her arm flickered, then settled into a quiescent gleam. Closing her other hand over her forearm next to Mulder's grip on her wrist, she marveled at the undamaged skin. "I was so sure I was burning," she whispered. "I felt it..." "Because you *thought* it should hurt. And it could have, if I hadn't shielded us both. Which is why you must learn to ground, center and shield before attempting to do anything more with the power." He gazed firmly into her eyes. "Do you understand?" She swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand." Mulder studied her for a moment, then leaned back, satisfied. Releasing her hand, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Good. Now that you can sense the power, let's try grounding again..." - - - - - By the time they left the wagon, Shannon felt as though she had just been through one of Aldara's intensive training sessions, only the muscles that ached weren't physical ones, they were mental. She had a headache the size of a basketball, and she was convinced that someone was beating on her skull with a large hammer. Mulder gazed sympathetically at her, as he helped her get down from the wagon. Holding her horse steady, he guided her up into the saddle, unobtrusively using his magic to assist her. When she was fully seated, gripping desperately to the saddle for balance, he leapt up onto his horse and edged up to her side. "Go find Scully and get something for that headache," he said kindly. She looked at him with faint surprise, too exhausted to speak. He smiled ruefully at her. "You should have seen me after my first sessions with Reinald. I practically couldn't stand up. Now go on, before I have to carry you." "Thanks," she managed to get out, before letting the horse carry her ahead. Scully was only two wagons up, and after one quick glance at the girl swaying in her saddle, the healer swept her up and into yet another wagon. A cup of tea and a dose of herbal medication later, and Shannon felt the pain easing. Taking one more sip, she put down the earthen mug and smiled her thanks. "A rough lesson?" Scully said, watching her with understanding eyes. "Yeah. Somehow I thought that learning something non- physical would be easier, but it was actually harder. At least when I'm training with weapons, I can grasp onto things. This is like trying to hold water in my hands, it keeps slipping between my fingers." "I know what you mean," Scully replied. "Healing can be like that too. Especially the psychic aspects. Corvay would tell me to *feel* for something and half the time, I couldn't figure out what for the life of me. But you get there, it will just take time and practice." "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," Shannon groaned. Scully laughed. "No more for today, though. Why don't you lie down and get some rest? We should get to Jinderling in a few candlemarks." She patted Shannon on the shoulder, then made her way to the back of the wagon. Shannon took one more sip of the tea, then set the mug down carefully to the side, wedging it between bundles. "Thanks," she called out after Scully, before leaning her head down and closing her eyes. By the time Scully had turned to say "You're welcome," she was fast asleep. - - - - - Scully easily found her way to her bondmate's side. She could have done so in utter darkness, so strongly did his presence call out to her. The lifebond pulled her towards him with a pressure that eased upon her as she came closer to him. The sense of relief she felt when she finally rode up next to him, expertly guiding her horse alongside his so that their knees were almost touching was nearly palpable. The very blood in her veins sang with his nearness, and her fingers ached to reach out and touch the heat of his skin. He turned to look at her, and smiled. The breeze teased the dark strands of his hair, the afternoon sunlight burnishing the soft ebony with reddish highlights. His eyes sparkled like diamonds, emerald highlights glittering in a sea of brown. The play of light across his features emphasized the strength of the jaw and the high arch of the cheekbone, creating deep shadows below the sharp curve of bone. He was beautiful to her, and she did not need to speak aloud to offer him that admiration. Mulder, in turn, was unable to restrain himself from reaching out physically to her as she rode up to join him in the front of the caravan. His fingertips brushed her arm, then flowed downward to close upon her small hand. Her fingers twined with his, and she gave him a smile that warmed him as no sunshine or hearthfire could ever hope to match. Their eyes spoke volumes, without a word being formed. "How is she?" he asked. "Tired, but she'll recover quickly. You gave her quite a workout." He smiled and shook his head. "She gave *me* quite a workout. I don't know how it happened, but she does appear to have developed a good streak of Mage-talent." They rode in silence for a moment, watching the sun begin to set against the long distance of the plains, the seemingly empty land holding the appearance of a golden sea, yellow grain wavering in the breeze, dotted here and there by the faint shape of a dwelling or crossed by the dark stripe of a road. The mountains were closer now, rising high above their heads, the peaks reaching almost to the sun itself as the brilliant orb began its slow trip downward. "There could be a number of reasons," Scully said softly, picking up the conversation as though it had never stopped. "Perhaps she is drawing from you somehow, or maybe the talent was always there, but has only developed now. I suppose it could be an aftereffect of coming through the vortex, or maybe of the onset of puberty. She's certainly been undergoing a growth spurt." That last was said wistfully, as Scully looked down at her own short legs, dangling at the sides of the large horse she was riding. Unlike Mulder, who was able to easily wrap his legs down around the animal to help guide it with the pressure of his feet, she always felt like she was perched on an elephant, ready to slide off at a moment's notice. Actually, she was a fine horsewoman, and she knew it, but nonetheless.... Mulder squeezed her fingers, letting her know with his touch and the warmth of his gaze that he liked her just the size she was. She gave him a return squeeze, then turned to look outward across the plains. "It looks so peaceful now," she commented. "As though nothing had ever happened." Mulder was silent for a moment, then he replied somberly. "Mostly, perhaps, but there are areas where you can still see signs of the damage done. And we are far from the center of the battle. Jhorgab says that there is still a huge burnt spot in which nothing will grow. The land remains barren and empty for nearly a mile in diameter. That's much closer to the mountains than we'll go today." Scully shivered. While her memories were less distinct than his, that day had burnt itself into her brain, and there were moments she would never, could never forget, for as long as she lived. And his own, perfectly detailed, eidetically stored memories were nearly as accessible to her as her own, the sharing of their minds so complete at times that she could not always tell where he left off and she began. Her hand convulsed in his, and he angled his head sharply to look at her. //Are you all right?\\ //Yes.\\ She took a deep breath, then smiled to reassure them both. "Just bad memories..." He nodded. "I know." It was his turn to shiver as he stared out towards the distant mountains. His always expressive eyes darkened to the black of pure coal. "Some things are not meant to be forgotten, even if it would be easier to forget." They rode onwards in silence, clinging tightly to each other's hand. - - - - - The arrival in Jinderling was quiet and uneventful. The trolls hurried to secure the wagons and tend the animals with a surprising lack of conversation. Even the ever-chattering Jhorgab seemed too tired to put much effort into speech, contenting himself with a few short spurts that died quickly when he realized his audience was simply too exhausted to care. Mulder and Scully saw that their horses were rubbed down, watered and fed, then they helped a sleepy Shannon from the wagon and hustled her off to bed at the local inn. Once she was settled down, they retired gratefully to their own room. Mulder dropped like a stone onto the bed, leaving his still- booted feet dangling off the edge. "You can have the bath, Scully. I'm just too tired to care. I'll take one in the morning." The weary woman sat down beside him, groaning as she drew her boots from her feet. "I think I may do the same. I never thought I'd miss flying in an airplane, but it sure beats this." "Yeah," Mulder muttered, unwilling to move even to remove his boots and cloak. "I still feel like I'm moving. And I think my legs are going to have a permanent bend in them from spending so much time on horseback." Scully managed a smile, then turned and lightly slapped his belly. "Come on, get ready for bed. I refuse to sleep with you with your boots on." "Ahh Scully!" he whined, then resignedly, he sat up and unclasped his cloak. She got up from the bed and crossed the room to open a couple of their bags. Withdrawing the long tunic she preferred to use as a night dress, she laid it over her shoulder, then took out a pair of his boxer shorts. Turning back towards him, she watched the sinewy muscles in his arms ripple and move as he lifted his shirt up and off, then bent down to remove his boots. When he was finished, dressed only in his pants, he looked up to find her watching him, a secretive smile on her face. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question, and she tossed his shorts at him with a soft chuckle. "Not tonight, Mulder. I can't believe even you would have the energy." He retrieved his shorts from where they had landed on the bed, and sighed loudly, the sound drifting off into a huge yawn. "Unfortunately, I don't," he admitted sadly. Yet that did not stop him from glancing up at her with a bright twinkle in his eyes. "But after a good night's sleep...." - - - - - She awoke to the dawn. The first rays of morning sunlight filtered in through the pale glass of the window high above their bed, throwing a soft yellow gleam across the cream-colored sheets. Mulder stirred at her side, his body shifting in slumber. She turned to press herself against the heat of his body, resting the point of her chin on his breast. Placing her right hand on the muscled expanse of his abdomen, she let her fingers trace the elegant lines of sinew and bone, sweeping across the warm satin of his skin in tender strokes. He stirred again beneath her touch, moaning softly. Her mouth curving up into a mischievous smile, she trailed her fingertips, tapping lightly, ever so lightly across his body, slipping down under the sheets to follow the lean length of his body. Twisting and wriggling until she was draped half across his body, she lowered her mouth to his chest and began to lick and suckle at the sensitive skin. He moaned louder, his head tossing to the side and back again, as he struggled between the demands of slumber and the slow, sensual awakening of his body. Willing to wait, she took her time, caressing him with gentle, insistent hands, tasting him as though he was the finest of delicacies. Finally, he came to awareness, his drowsy hazel eyes darkening to amber as they came open. //Morning,\\ she murmured to him, her mouth far too occupied for use in anything as uninteresting as speech. //Mmmm,\\ his reply came, more a purr of satisfaction than a thought, his senses spurring him into full awareness. She laughed joyfully into his mind, her mouth now engaged with the taut skin below his navel, her hands tempting the skin of his thighs, sliding around to cup his buttocks. //Scully...\\ he formed her name, a mix of warning, pleasure, amusement, and anticipation coloring the mental image. His hips arched upwards towards her as though in emphasis, and she let loose a wave of pure satisfaction. He chuckled, reaching down to tangle his fingers in the glorious spill of her hair across his belly and hips. Running his fingers through the bright tangle, he cupped the back of her head, ever so briefly pressing her against him before moving downward to take hold of her arms. In one, graceful, rapid motion, he pulled her up across his body, lifting his left leg up to propel himself up and over her, dropping her onto her back and coming down upon her. //Gotcha,\\ he teased, not wasting a breath before claiming her mouth. Even as she returned the hunger of his mouth with the open temptation of her own, her mind was laughing with his, exchanging emotions, sensation, intertwining his desires with her own, building her own anticipation upon his. The fire stoked in their bodies, but was fed by their minds, both tangling, stroking, and finally combining, the ecstasy of their final coming together echoed between their minds, the pleasure of their bodies multiplied again and again between their souls. And at last, they fell together, bodies sated, minds exultant, hearts beating in perfect synchronicity, to rest together on sweat- coated sheets. - - - - - The morning rush left little time for contemplation. The trolls managed to take in another massive meal even as they rushed to repack and resupply the caravan. Shannon stuck close to Jhorgab, the two wandering in and out of the chaos seemingly at random, yet somehow always appearing to have some purpose in mind. The little troll talked incessantly, while his human companion remained characteristically quiet. Mulder kept the corner of his eye on the unlikely pair, his mind alight with amusement. //Quite an unusual pair,\\ he commented wryly. Scully smiled wisely. "Perhaps, but I'm glad she's found a friend." Mulder chuckled, then swallowed down the rest of his tea. "Me too," he replied with obvious fondness. He put down his cup and reluctantly got to his feet. "Guess we'd better finish packing ourselves." Scully sighed, and stood up beside him. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm spending my whole life on a horse." Mulder nodded, about to concur, when a sudden outbreak of commotion caught his attention. Loud voices emanated from the other side of the tavern, the disagreement quickly erupting into violence. "Non-human trash!" One angry shout rose above the rest, followed by a low grumble, intelligible, yet fraught with menace. The rest of the room fell silent as the conflict raged, but it was the calm before the storm. The temperature in the room somehow managed to rise above its already steamy level, and the tension fired almost to the breaking point. Mulder swore under his breath as he shouldered his way through the room, sliding past carefully watching eyes towards the center of the conflict. The human merchant was red-faced and vituperative, his pale skin flushed with rage, his body rigid as he shook a fist in the face of the troll across the table. Krolgar stood to his full, albeit unimpressive height; his heavy-browed, flat-featured face thickened with growing rage. His skin gleamed a deep forest green, his yellow eyes boring at the gesticulating man. The troll lifted a massive fist, aiming it with deliberate purpose towards the furious human's face, pausing it threateningly a few inches from the man's chin. The human let out a string of curses, and the troll's muscles clenched, released, then tensed for motion...only to hit an invisible barrier. Krolgar howled with frustration, slamming his fist seemingly into thin air, barely an inch from his adversary. The man had reeled backwards to avoid the blow, but when it never came, he stood back up and sneered at the angry, impotent troll. "That's enough!" a commanding voice rang out. Both ignored it, the troll still struggling against the unseen barrier, the human mocking him with biting words. Words that silenced in mid- syllable. The man grabbed for his throat, his eyes bulging below a thatch of blond hair, his skin flushing even more brightly as he found himself unable to utter a word. "Ggggggg," he moaned, turning around to seek help - only to find himself staring straight into a pair of blazing hazel eyes. "I said, ENOUGH!" Mulder demanded again. His hand sliced the air, and the two would-be combatants both froze in place. They stood like a pair of statues, one still clutching his throat, the other still holding a fist outstretched before him. The entire room stilled, and Mulder waited a long, tense moment, before again chopping the air in a decisive gesture. The two merchants both gasped aloud with relief as they felt control of their bodies returning. Both opened their mouths to speak, but shut them in the wake of a single glance from those focused hazel eyes. "That's better. Now sit down..." Krolgar began again to protest, but was quickly stared down. Mulder continued as though he had not been interrupted. "Sit down and tell me what is going on." Both scrambled for their seats, waiting as Mulder quickly borrowed another stool and sat down between them. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, the blue-robed Mage nodded towards the upset troll, mentally bracing himself for the onslaught of grievances and imagined wrongs. Krolgar and the human merchant obliged willingly, and it took nearly a half-hour before Mulder was able to track down the source of the problem. - - - - - "Dye shades!" Mulder and Scully had taken a position close to the front of the caravan, riding comfortably side-by-side. The plains stretched out to their right, the land to their left rising slightly into rich farmland, the soft swell of the ground forming a gentle precursor to still distant Gifrallia mountains that were a soft hint against the horizon to the East. More farmland stretched out before them, the earth tilled and fertile, row-upon-row of thick brown grain and green leafy plants stretching as far as the eye could see. But Mulder's attention was focused elsewhere, his voice rising with incredulity as he recounted, again, the substance of the disagreement between the two merchants. "They were about to hit each other because Nurbin decided that the dye lot wasn't quite the right color. 'The purple wasn't quite *red* enough,' he says. 'It didn't match the previous lot.'" Mulder shook his head. "It looked plenty *red* to me. *I* couldn't see the slightest difference." Scully couldn't help smiling as she reminded him. "You're colorblind, remember." Mulder frowned at her, though his eyes couldn't hide the sparkle that the sight of her always stimulated in those bright orbs. "I'm not *that* colorblind. And I have more trouble with green than red. I'm pretty good with shades of red." Scully let the image of one or two of his worst ties flash before both their minds, afloat on the current of her amusement. "Sure you are, Mulder." He pouted at her, then his expression sombered. "Even so...it was stupid, Scully. There was no need for it to escalate into violence. There was something more going on there...I just can't put my finger on it." He frowned, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, his eyes focused off into the distance. "You think this is connected with the other troubles...Fawnleaf and Coldshores?" Scully asked. Mulder didn't respond immediately, but his partner was patient. Long experience with the unusual way his mind worked had taught her to wait. He hadn't missed her words, he was just processing information. When he was done sorting, rearranging, patterning, he answered as though no time had passed between her words and his. "I think it's very likely." He turned to look seriously at her. "It's as though something is making little problems into big problems, aggravating tensions. Petty disagreements degenerate into violence. I don't like the feel of this." He stared back out at the open land. "I don't like it at all." - - - - - The remainder of the day passed quietly. Too quietly, perhaps. Even so, Scully's mind was serene as she settled down beside Mulder. He was lying on his back, staring up at the starlit sky, his hands folded on his chest. His mind, too, was peaceful, the fires banked. She tenderly brushed back a stray lock of hair from his brow, stroked his cheek, then rested fully down beside him. The earth was still warm from the sun, the heat emanating up through the thick woven blanket. The grass formed an additional layer of padding between them and the solid earth below. The night air was crisp, but not uncomfortable, and the slight fingers of a breeze felt good against her cheek. Curling up against the solid warmth of him, she let the weariness of her body drain from her. Closing her eyes, she could envision, like a flood of molasses, seeping down into the rich brown earth, leaving her lighter for its passing. Mulder turned to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her hair. His breath warmed the curve of her neck, and she sighed aloud with the simple pleasure of his nearness. So good, it felt so good.... A sharp cry split the night asunder, followed instantly by the clash of metal upon metal. Voices raised a raucous alarm, sounding off in broken harmony, to wake and warn. "Bandits!! To arms, to arms!!!" The trolls grabbed for swords and daggers, stumbling from wagon backs, abandoning bedrolls and blankets, as they moved to the defense. Horses snickered in panic, hooves shook the ground, the inevitable cries of the wounded erupted. Mulder and Scully were on their feet together in one swift motion. She darted for her sword, retrieving it from the scabbard laying close, as always, to hand, and lifted it before her. Even as she paused in a ready stance, eyes darting through the darkness to seek the nearest threat, a bright gleam bounced off her raised silver blade. Light blazed from Mulder's upraised hands, cloaking his disheveled figure in pale azure glory, turning the night to day. Both attackers and defenders were forced to pause, blinking back tears as eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness. But the stalemate was temporary, those whose sight recovered sooner leaping to assault those who adjusted more slowly. And moments later, the battle raged in full tilt, swords flashing, daggers slicing, cries of triumph and agony sounding hard. A black-clad man, face contorted by scars both old and new, dove for Mulder's back, a jagged-edged curved blade whistling as it swung through the air with uncanny aim...only to clang dully as it struck against the flat of a silver blade. The bandit snarled as he found himself faced with fury made manifest, fire itself flaming around a pale-skinned face. Scully ignored the grotesque knife as it fell, averted, to her feet, her only focus on the enemy who had threatened her bondmate. Her blue eyes blazed as she turned to face him, her hands held strong around the sword hilt. He grinned mockingly at her, circling to his left, his own sword held one-handed, almost negligently, at an angle. He beckoned to her, but she held her ground, waiting patiently. She did not have long to wait. With a fierce cry he shifted into abrupt motion, flowing at her, sword and arm and body moving as one. She was ready, and their weapons clashed with a terrible din, reverberating against each other again and again, creating the dissonant music of warfare. He was good, but so was she. And nearly evenly matched in skill and training, it became a question of his strength against her speed. He came at her relentlessly, forcing her to dodge and twist, dancing across the ground on agile feet. He pushed her back, then was forced back himself, giving ground inch by sweaty inch, and then he held and gained yet again. Her hair fell limp and plastered against her skin, and her lungs began to scratch for air. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and the entire world focused down into one single need - to bring her all-too-heavy blade around to meet his, over and over again, until the graceful weapon became a dead weight pulling at her wrists and shoulders, dragging at the limits of her strength. Yet even as she stumbled, nearly tumbling to the ground, one final blast of energy, born of determination and purified rage, boiled through her veins. The blow of his blade against hers reverberated up her arms, and she slid sideways, as though staggering to her defeat. But even as he grinned in anticipation of triumph, bringing his sword up and around to slash it down towards her yet again, she was pivoting to his other side. Letting the flow of motion carry her with it, using the force of his own blow against him, she spun around and swept the point of her sword towards his unprotected side. The silver blade split flesh with barely a whisper, and his scream of triumph became a gurgle of pain. With all of her weight behind it, the strike was true - and he staggered, pierced like a fish on a hook. Bracing herself, she yanked the sword free, turning barely in time to avoid the remnant of his own attack. His blade missed her by scarcely an inch, then fell downwards to bury its tip in the earth. She danced backwards, leaving him to waver to his knees, then crumble downwards into a gory puddle of his own blood. Gasping for breath, she turned, only to cry out in pain as a glowing thunderball of light exploded overhead. Throwing up an arm to shield her eyes, she dropped to her knees. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed, the air sparked with static. Energy washed over the campsite in azure waves, circling outwards from one center, flowing in luminescent eddies around each cowering human, troll, and elf. Battle cries gave way to sobs of fear, and then to silence, until the only sound remaining was the raging thunder and the wind itself. Light blazed, thunder pealed, then just as suddenly as it had begun, the storm ended. - - - - - The trolls easily rounded up the last of the bandits, dispatching them with merciful quickness. Scully's first reaction had been to interfere, but the law in the Realm was clear. Taking the prisoners on the to next village would only have delayed the inevitable, for the one and only sentence available for such crimes was death. Yet, while she had delivered such herself only a few moments before, there was something so much colder about killing men frozen by Mulder's spell than the killing she had done in the heat of battle. She had been acting to save her own life and that of her loved ones from an armed and violent aggressor - and she felt no guilt. But the executions were different to her mind, even though she knew without asking that any of the trolls would think she was crazy for making such a distinction. Perhaps she was. More likely she was just tired. What little energy she had left was already spoken for, as the troll healer struggled to deal with the sudden overflow of casualties. Bending her will to the task at hand, she found some peace, at least, in the act of healing. After what seemed like an eternity of moving from one wound to another, using bandages and herbal teas, her own inner strength and force of being, she had finally reached the last of the patients. They had been luckier than she would have expected given the suddenness of the assault, only two trolls had died and only four were seriously wounded. Mulder, Shannon, and Scully herself had escaped completely unharmed, Shannon proving herself to be a fierce and capable fighter. Give her some more practice, and she'd be superb. Scully wasn't quite sure that was necessarily a good thing, but at least it meant that they wouldn't have to worry about the girl being able to protect herself. Putting aside personal concerns for the moment, Scully returned her focus to her final patient. The gash was painful, but not life-threatening, and she was able to close it off with a minimum of effort. Waving at a volunteer to feed the moaning troll a tea that would ease his agony, she staggered to her feet. //Hey, take it easy, there.\\ Mulder's arms closed around her from behind and she sagged into his embrace gratefully. Letting the back of her head rest against his chest, she drew on the support he offered, feeling the energy swell from him to her, easing the ache behind her temples and strengthening her exhausted legs. He held her tenderly for a while, just giving her time to recover, then he leaned around her and swept her up into his arms. She angled her head up to protest instinctively, but he silently shushed her. And secure in the solid circle of his arms, it was easy to let him take control. She was worn to the bone. Murmuring unintelligibly, she snuggled into his chest as he carried her across the camp. Even before he reached his destination, she was sound asleep, and she barely made a sound when he lowered her onto a pile of rugs which had spilled from a wagon. The wares could be picked up and repaired on the morrow, for now - it was time to rest and recover. There was still a long journey ahead. End of Chapter Nine THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Ten She yanked the bellpull and waited impatiently until a minion appeared. "Bring our guest up to my workroom." He bowed low and scuttled down the staircase to do her bidding. She swept up the same staircase, gliding over the polished black marble steps in a tight spiral with practiced ease. At the top landing, she went to her left, to her workroom, and took her chair. She had left the miserable little man alone for days now. Whether he had been waiting in a lather of anxiety or had grown cocky by her lack of attention was immaterial to her - the result would be the same. A sound filtered into her consciousness, and annoyed, she glanced at the tall narrow window, choked with vines. A small crimson and gray bird twittered its song, vainly seeking others of its kind. A thought was enough to kill. The song stopped, the bird plummeting to the vegetation far below. A new sound was heard, or sounds. Feet scraping on the stairway, labored breathing. Seconds later, Drellor appeared. "Your Majesty, thank you for seeing me. I had hoped we would be able to ta-" She skewered him with her gaze. "Quiet, little man. Understand something - I will ask the questions and you will answer. You will answer me truthfully and completely. Are we clear so far?" "Y-yes, Your Majesty," he panted. "Not yet." "N-not yet? I-I'm sorry, I don't understand," quavered Drellor. "My domain for now is merely this swamp. But not for much longer. I want to be more than a queen in name only." Her stare had the intensity of a stiletto blade. "I want what my ancestors had. I want MORE than my ancestors had." A crafty look stole into the little man's eyes. "Ah, I begin to see. I believe I can help you attain what you're looking for." She laughed scornfully. "You? YOU? How can you do anything I can't?" Excellent. The fool took the bait almost faster than she could play it out. "Uh - uh, well, anyone can see that you have no equal in power, my lady. No, obviously, I cannot best you there. But it is what I know, my lady, that could be of infinite use to you. I know many things and could help you to get what you're looking for." "And why should you do that, little man?" she purred. "Because it suits my plans to do so. A-and of course because of the respect I have for you, my lady." Drellor stood sweating in the center of the room. "Perhaps - perhaps if I could sit down and catch my breath...." Imperiously, she gestured to the footstool next to her chair. "Thank you, my lady, most kind." He hesitated just long enough to slow his breathing, then began to think about the plan he had worked on, almost since that horrible day before the full Council of Representatives so many season-cycles ago. The Council that was meant to seal Reinald's doom, and instead sealed his own. "I have been unfairly imprisoned by my nephew and his guardian for longer than I care to remember. I hate them to the depths of my soul. Indeed, I have sworn that if it takes until my dying breath, vengeance will be mine." A small smile played at her lips. "Be careful what you wish for, because you may get it." "I beg your pardon, my lady, I didn't quite catch...?" The smile broadened, revealing white, even teeth. "No matter - a proverb I heard in one of the strange lands I traveled once long ago. And who is the object of your vengeance?" Drellor's brows drew together in a scowl. "The Royal Mage, Reinald. And King Andalor. But especially the Mage, and the other one - the Stranger." His voice trailed off to a mutter as he again became consumed by his memories. "Almost...I had him where I wanted him...I was so close, so CLOSE!" She left him to his thoughts for a few moments. "So, you want the head of King Andalor of Fairwoods Demesne. Yes, that would be an appropriate place for me to start. And I confess no love in my heart for Reinald. For him or his kind. But what can you do to further my plans and yours? You were stuck in a dungeon until I freed you. This does not bespeak of much power, Drellor." "No. No, but that was only because of the other one. I never would have ended up in that dungeon, I would have sat upon the throne if it hadn't been for that other one." He shook with righteous indignation. She sighed. "I am becoming impatient. If you are wasting my time, be assured that you will pay dearly for every second you have cost me. If you have something to say, then say it. Now - tell me of this other one, the Stranger." "Y-Yes, my lady. He is a Mage of incredible power. He came into our Realm one day like he had dropped from the sky, him and his woman. I was told he was a visiting Mage from a land far away, come to trade spells." His woman? A Mage with a woman? Surely not, the miserable little worm must be even stupider than he looked. Such things had been long forgotten. "And how was this Mage so powerful?" she asked thoughtfully. "He has the cunning of...of...of I don't know what. But he is very, very cunning. With Reinald he was able to loose the spell which enchanted the prince - a secret spell no one knew but the caster! And they broke it! At that time I was incarcerated, so my sources of information were limited. But later I would hear the guards talk of the exploits of Mage Mulder, and how he helped to defeat the Dark Creatures and drive them from our land." Her brows rose with that. Witch Tears Swamp, far from the area where they had emerged, had borne few incursions of the Dark Creatures, but she too had her sources. So - impressive. "Describe for me this Mage Mulder," she commanded. "Young - for a Mage. OH! Oh, no offense, my lady." He trembled and spluttered until she waved a dismissive hand. "Thank you, most merciful lady. Well, he is tall, and well-favored. And strong. I, myself, am blind to auras, but I have been told by those who can see them that his is of the purest, brightest Mage blue that anyone has yet seen." His eyes narrowed as he tried to assess her expression - he had her interest, that was certain. Now - to play for time. "What else of Mage Mulder - what kinds of spells can he do?" Drellor closed his eyes and moaned slightly. "My lady, much as I would love to carry on this conversation, I feel a terrible headache coming on. Would it be possible...?" "Yes, of course, Prince Drellor. Why don't you retire, and we can converse again tomorrow?" "Thank you, my lady, you are most kind." He bowed low and backed out of the room, then hurried down the stairs, almost chortling in his excitement and glee. Yes! I have them now! She even called me prince! She waited until he was at the bottom of the turret before she began to smile, then a low throaty laugh shook through her. Fool! Who did he think he was? Well, no matter. Let him think whatever he wanted, as long as he continued to supply her with information of this new Mage. And what he didn't give freely, she would take anyway. But it was easier this way, for now. She stretched out a hand to take the hematite sphere between her palms. She focused on a color - the purest and brightest Mage blue, was it? - her memory seeking what she had sensed in Fawnleaf. Holding the sphere, a scene came to her. Wagons, and trolls, and cookfires. The Mage waiting his turn in line for food. How sweet. How perfectly bucolic. A picnic. If she hadn't been in such a good mood, she might have simply set fire to the whole forest with a spell that was only moderately complicated. For now, she was just content to spread merely misery. Still grasping the ball, she drew her brows together in concentration, muttering the Old Realm words so familiar on her tongue. Then, sensing the thunder, sensing the clouds she commanded to gather, sensing the rain starting to fall in cold gray sheets, she sat back and returned the sphere to its stand. "Enjoy your journey," she smiled. - - - - - As the distant spires of a fairy tale castle showed black against the darkening sky, the weary travelers breathed a sigh of relief. Scully flashed a tired but encouraging smile back to Shannon. They were all bedraggled, wet and miserable, hardly the way they thought they would be arriving in Fairwoods Glens. The morning had been bright and cool, a perfect spring day, and they rode through the beautiful country of rolling green hills and turquoise lakes easily. They had stopped by one such lake for lunch. Meal breaks with the troll caravan were always highly anticipated - if anyone appreciated the value of good eating, it was the trolls. A small party rushed off to the lake with nets as soon as the wagons rolled to a stop, closely followed by Shannon and Jhorgab. They returned a short time later, eagerly carrying a netful of wriggling salmon-like fish to the cookfires. Mulder and Scully saw to the horses, watering them and leading them to a small field nearby to graze. Hand in hand, they walked around the perimeter of the placid lake, glorying in being off horseback and able to touch. They rejoined the caravan when the delicious aroma of fire-grilled food reminded them of how hungry they were. Grabbing wooden platters, they stood at the end of the serving line, having learned not to get between a hungry troll and his food. When they reached the head of the queue, a smiling Shannon served them with massive portions of spit- roasted fish and vegetables and bread. Then they collected tankards of ale from a wooden cask lashed to one of the wagons, and retired beneath the trees to consume their idyllic picnic lunch. After they had eaten, they lay back, full and content, in each other's arms. "I'm going to gain weight, traveling with these guys," murmured Scully. "If so, it seems to be going on in all the right places," observed her bondmate, knowing the reaction it would bring. Retribution was swift - a gentle jab in the tummy, followed by Scully's "Don't be a pig, Mulder." He laughed and held her closer. "Funny, the only time I feel really good anymore is when we're like this - close, holding each other." "Mmm, me too. Wish there were time for a nap." Mulder looked through the leafy canopy at the gathering clouds. "I think we're going to have to push on fairly soon. The weather looks like it's changing." They reluctantly got to their feet and rejoined the caravan. The fast-approaching clouds had been noticed by Krolgar as well, and the trolls were extinguishing the cookfires and hitching the horses once more to the wagons. "Oh, there you are," he said. "We have to move - rain coming. If we want to make Fairwoods Glens by nightfall, we have to leave now." Mulder nodded and went to retrieve the horses from the field near the side of the road. As he disappeared from view, Scully felt a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over her, and staggered slightly. Shannon, coming up behind her, put out a strong arm to steady the smaller woman. "You okay, Dana? You look really pale." "Yeah, just give me a second." She leaned, sweating lightly, on Shannon's arm. The wave passed just as Mulder arrived, riding one horse and leading the other three. He didn't look any better than she did. He slid off his mount. //You okay?\\ //Yeah, I am now. Maybe we should go together next time?\\ //I think that might be a good idea.\\ He boosted the two women to their saddles, then swung himself up into his own. As he did, thunder rumbled. The caravan began to move on up the road, its pace brisk. Two long, wet candlemarks later they had stopped, one of the wagons mired in heavy mud brought on by the cold, driving rains they had endured almost since they set out. They stood grouped around the stuck wagon while a team of trolls tried vainly to rock the wheel free from the mucky pothole. Raising her voice to be heard over the torrential downpour, Scully observed, "This isn't getting anywhere. Is there anything you can do?" "Yeah, I think so. Ask the trolls to step away from the wagon." As his blue aura surged around him, the trolls scattered back. They didn't need anyone to tell them not to get between a Mage and his magic. Closing his eyes, Mulder concentrated for a few moments, then raised his arms, palms up. The wagon rose, the wheel clearing the pothole. Then he swung his hands laterally, and the startled team of horses trudged ahead several paces. Another move of his hands, and the wagon settled once again on terra firma. He opened his eyes and breathed deeply. He took a moment to collect himself. Then, "This is going to keep happening, with the rain this heavy," he told Krolgar. "I think I can clear the way, but it's going to take a lot of concentration. We're going to have to lead. Keep the wagons moving, and don't let any of them get more than seventy-five paces behind me." "Fine," said Krolgar grimly. "Anything you can do to speed our pace. At this rate, we won't get into Fairwoods Glens until sometime tomorrow. We can't afford to lose that much trading time." Mulder nodded absently, already concentrating on his upcoming spell. Then he, Scully and Shannon remounted and went to the head of the caravan. His blue aura surged again, and his horse shied uneasily. Ahead, the mucky bog that the road had become shimmered slightly, then hardened, the torrent bouncing off the surface. Mulder urged his horse ahead. "All right, let's MOVE!" yelled Scully, turning back to the wagons. Behind her, she could see that the road kept its enchanted hardness under the wheels of the caravan. Ten paces beyond the end of the last wagon, the road shimmered and once again became a mire. They moved tightly grouped together, following the glowing Mage and his bondmate. As they got nearer to Fairwoods Glens, they began to pass through more villages, elves peeking through their windows in awe as they felt the magic, and saw the aura of a powerful Mage at work. Finally, four candlemarks later the road widened, and as they neared the castle gates, became paved with cobblestones. The rain had slackened to a cold, miserable drizzle falling from the night sky. Mulder, exhaling slowly, released his spell and the blue glow faded. Scully urged her horse forward to move next to her bondmate. She reached out and touched his arm. "Are you all right?" He drew in a tremulous breath and sighed. "Yeah. Sort of. All that concentrating gave me a bitch of a headache. Which I can sense you're sharing - sorry about that." "Comes with the territory, Mulder. There are compensations." She flashed a warm smile at him. //As soon as we get settled for the night, we'll have to work on some of those compensations.\\ He leered creditably at her, and she laughed. A high but delicately-fashioned portcullis opened at their approach, and a small deputation of elves marched through to greet them, carrying torches. A fairly young and self-assured elf, clothed in the prince's colors of scarlet and gold, stepped forward from the others and bowed from the waist with a sweep of his arms. "Welcome, esteemed Mage, esteemed Warrior Healer and Mage Halla. You do our castle great honor by your visit. I am Furflot, aide to Prince Mavor. He has asked me to beg your indulgence. Affairs of state have exhausted him and he has retired for the night, otherwise he would be here to greet you himself. If you will, please follow me, your quarters are ready for you." He relaxed his formal manner slightly and smiled. "You look like your journey has been difficult. Hot baths, hot food and warm beds are waiting." The three almost groaned with anticipation. "Thank you, Furflot. They'll be much appreciated," Mulder responded, returning the little elf's smile. He signaled to Krolgar and the wagons rumbled and clattered behind the group of elves into the main courtyard of the castle. "Have a good night, Mage Mulder," the caravan leader called. "And thank you for your help. We'll see you in the marketplace tomorrow." Then the wagons broke away from Mulder and the elves to clatter through an arch at the far end of the courtyard. The three followed Furflot to another archway, where more elves emerged to take charge of their horses. They slid out of their saddles gratefully, and for the first time, took close note of their surroundings. "I think we're in Disney World," whispered Shannon, looking around in awe. Mulder smiled. The prince's castle did give that impression. Where Fairwoods Keep was heavy and massive, a fortress with thick walls and guard towers, the prince's seat in Fairwoods Glens did indeed look like Cinderella's castle, all delicate spires and filigree. It was a jewel of a palace, more a work of art than architecture. "Please follow me." The elf preceded them through an elaborately carved door into a huge hall. Glorious chandeliers ablaze with candles hung suspended from a high beamed ceiling, the beams themselves arranged in an intricate decorative design. Large windows were cut high in the walls, draped with diaphanous material in gem-like colors. Gorgeous holographic tapestries hung in profusion. "This place is beautiful," breathed Scully. "I'm proud you find it so. Just through here." The young elf indicated one of the many passages that led off the hall. They walked silently down wooden floors polished to a mirror-like sheen, finally stopping at a large door of oak with silver inlay. "Mage Mulder, this is the guest chamber where you and the Warrior Healer will be staying. Your halla will be directly across the corridor. Your baths have been drawn, and your servants will be in directly to see if you require any assistance in bathing. When you are ready, they will bring you food and drink." "Thank you, Furflot. You've thought of everything, and I'm sure we'll be very comfortable. When will it be convenient to speak to His Highness?" "Not until early afternoon, I'm afraid. He has many pressing matters to deal with. I can change his schedule to suit you, however, if you need to speak to him sooner," the aide said anxiously. "No, no," Mulder replied. "That will be fine. Thank you again, and good night." "Good night, esteemed Mage. Now, esteemed lady, this is your chamber...." They watched until Furflot had departed and Shannon entered her chamber, returning her tired wave. Then they opened their own door and went in. "Oh, Mulder, this is gorgeous!" "I'll never be able to get you into another Motel 8 again, after this." The chamber was only slightly smaller than their huge quarters back at Fairwoods Keep, and was perfectly square. Halfway up the wall opposite to where they stood, tall stained glass windows cast reflected puddles of spectacular color all over the room. To their left, a fire blazed merrily in the hearth, and large thick cushions were scattered around the perimeter of the hearthrug. Two big copper tubs, full of water and steaming, sat on the far side of the fireplace, separated by a small drain in the floor. To Mulder and Scully's right, a huge high bed was hung with lacy bedcurtains of snowy white. To one side of the bed was a large oaken armoire, much like their own back at Fairwoods Keep. To the other, there was a door, presumably to their lavatory. Splendid tapestries decorated all the walls. At intervals were torch holders of silver, so delicately crafted it seemed impossible that they could bear their fiery burdens. In the very center of the room sat a large, very low table around which were the thick cushions that evidently took the place of chairs in this culture. They walked slowly around the room, exploring everything. Scully disappeared for a few minutes, then emerged from the lavatory. "They seem to have a better idea of plumbing here," she announced. "I figured that from the drain in the floor for the baths. Makes a lot more sense than bailing those tubs out and carrying the water away. Hey, did you check out the armoire?" Scully shook her head and swung open the doors. Garments of every color and for every occasion hung in the cupboard. "These are even our sizes, Mulder. They really pull out all the stops when it comes to hospitality, don't they?" Mulder was holding up a sheer black nightshift he had collected from the bed, peeking at her through it. "Yeah, but it's a little disconcerting that they seem to know my tastes for you in nightwear." Scully had just settled into his arms when a knock sounded on the door. With a sigh, Mulder went to answer the summons. He declined assistance for bathing, but asked the servant to bring food in half a candlemark's time. Returning to Scully's side, he bent to kiss her gently on the mouth, then unfastened her belt, relieving her of her sword. He went on to slip her sodden tunic over her head. "It's more fun to do it ourselves, don't you think?" he asked with a knowing smile. Eyes smoldering, he stripped her of her wet, mud-splashed clothing, then swung her up into his arms and carried her across the room, depositing her in one of the tubs. He knelt at its side. Slowly and tenderly he smoothed every part of her with fragrant soap as she reclined, a soft smile gracing her lips. His touch set her on fire, and she wanted more, as he well knew. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips as he rinsed the soap from her body. When he had finished he scooped her up once more and wrapped her in a huge sheet. "You showed admirable and if I may say so, uncharacteristic restraint," Scully observed, smiling. "Your turn, now." She shrugged out of the sheet, and removed his clothes as he had hers. He stepped into his tub, and she knelt behind him, massaging his tight neck and shoulder muscles. Reaching in as a healer, she eradicated the pounding headache and the soreness from being on horseback all day. "Oh, yeah, that's good," he sighed. "So's that," he smiled moments later, as she began to caress his skin with soap. Now it was her turn to smile mischievously as she deliberately tried to do everything she could to break his self-restraint. Well, if we're going to play games.... she thought impishly. Just as she felt she was making some headway in undermining his reserve, another knock at the door was followed by the entrance of several servants, all carrying dishes and pots and baskets. Scully grabbed her discarded sheet with a yelp. With an effort, she returned the smiles and nods of the servants as they laid the table and made tea. If the servants found a naked Mage together with a naked woman remarkable, there was certainly no sign of it. A buxom, matronly elf who appeared to be in charge of the others spoke. "Just let everything be, Warrior-Healer. We'll be in to collect it sometime during the night. I am Arthra, your chief servant while you're here. If you need anything, just tug the bellpull over by your bed. You enjoy yourselves, now." With that, she followed the others out of the room. Mulder burst out into the laughter he had been trying so hard to hold back. "'You enjoy yourselves, now'," he whooped, breathless. "Scully, if you could have only seen yourself! You really DID blush right down to your toes!" She grinned good-naturedly and tossed him a bathsheet. "Bathtime's over, lover. I just remembered how hungry I am." After they had changed into their night clothes and eaten, they stretched out on the cushions by the fire. Clean and full, and most of all, together, they felt better than they had in several days. Mulder reclined, his head on Scully's lap as she played gently with his hair and drowsily gazed into the fire. "This is the life, Scully." "Mmm." An impish smiled lit up his face. "Hey, woman! Peel me a grape!" Scully giggled. //Screw you, Mulder!\\ In a heartbeat, he had flipped her over and was on her. Fire flared in his eyes and his face loomed close, finally covering her mouth with his own as his tongue dipped inside to duel with hers. Pulling back for a moment, he let her catch her breath, and smiled down at her. //Great idea, Scully. Crudely put, but a great idea!\\ - - - - - Andalor rolled his eyes and slumped down further in his seat, massaging his aching temples. Down the length of the table, nobles were roaring at each other, at times leaning across the wooden expanse to thrust a fist in someone's face, some grabbing a collar to pull an opponent closer. It had been like this since they had all assembled, a candlemark ago. Finally, he had had enough, and leapt up from the throne. "There will be SILENCE!" It took several seconds, but eventually he had the glowering attention of all the nobles. "In case it has escaped your notice, the purpose of this meeting is to seek your counsel on what can be done to stop the wave of hatred and violence that is tearing our Realm apart. I do not intend for you to re-enact those shameful and terrible occurrences. You will conduct yourselves as nobles of this Realm, or you will be banished from this room. Have I made myself clear?" There were sullen murmurs from around the table. From Reinald and Mandor of House Ranfaus, approving glances were cast the king's way. "Good. Now, what suggestions have you for trying to put an end to the interspecies violence?" At the far end of the table, Marvick of Dordinal muttered something to one of the young nobles of his house, and hearty laughter ensued. "You have something to offer, Marvick?" asked the king, mildly. "I merely said, Your Majesty, that the problem could be neatly contained by simply slaughtering all the shrunken, deformed little creatures and leaving the Realm for those fit to dwell here." He sat back and looked pleased with himself, as House Dordinal convulsed with laughter. Representatives from the other Houses looked on, with expressions that varied from amused smiles to contempt. Andalor's face turned white with anger, maintaining control only with great effort. Reinald, careful to keep the anxiety from his expression, studied the king from across the table. He had handled himself well thus far, but this was the first blatant insult to his authority. It was critical that he deal with the situation immediately and correctly. "Lord Marvick, will you stand, please?" the king requested, in a deceptively quiet tone. Still enjoying the attention, Marvick stood, gloating at the nobles of the other Houses. "Thank you, Lord Marvick. Now - collect that worthless rabble you call your House, and get out of here." Marvick couldn't have looked more shocked if Reinald had turned him into a lizard. "Wh-what do you mean, 'get out'? I am here by my birthright!" he spluttered. "You can't do that!" "I can, and I will. I want you out of here, now. And I will refresh your obviously faulty memory of the Realm's laws regarding treason, while I'm at it. 'To disobey the direct and personal order of the king at any time shall be called treason, and the king may exact what penalty he will.' My strongest advice would be not to forget these words. You are growing dangerously close to an appointment with the headsman's ax. Now GET OUT!" Marvick stood open-mouthed, his several chins trembling, unable to comprehend the king's words. How dare anyone, even the king, speak to the head of Dordinal in that fashion? But looking into Andalor's set, angry face, he opted not to protest further. He signaled curtly to the other representatives of his House, and they swept angrily from the table, stomping their way from the Great Hall and slamming the massive oaken doors behind them. "Now," said the king pleasantly. "Does anyone want to join Dordinal outside?" A chorus of "No, Sire's" rang out around the table. "Good. Then perhaps we shall make some progress after all." The king re- seated himself. "Lord Mandor, can you give us your counsel?" The meeting droned on for several more candlemarks. Whether it was because of Dordinal's absence or their own plans to further the cause of their houses, the representatives placed much of the blame for the interspecies violence locally on gangs of Dordinal youths. These packs of wild, unprincipled young men had made trouble for every non-human they had come across, usually stopping short of outright murder, but setting fires, stealing and assaulting the females in troll, gargoyle and elf villages. In some of those villages, there had then been retaliatory attacks against humans. Reinald had no doubt that Dordinal was taking advantage of the unnatural tension throughout the Realm to carry out its own vendetta against the other species. But the timing of the violence and the tensions that fostered it could be explained only by the Black Arts. He dismissed the concept that Marvick was working in league with a black magician. He didn't have the courage to deal with anyone powerful enough to squash him and his entire House like a bug. "Sire, perhaps the people need a distraction from all these tragic occurrences," suggested Horvay of Maalfees silkily. "Something joyful. Perhaps if the king announced his betrothal to a noble lady, say like my lovely Woldora-" Instantly, there were shouts of protest in the air, each noble house reciting a list of its unmarried daughters like a litany of saints. The king stood and the shouts silenced. "I am well aware that my betrothal would bring joy to the Realm. But I want it understood that I will not be rushed in this matter." "But Sire, consider the advantages of marrying my sweet Vansolta..." "No - my Derfissa...." "Nay, Sire, surely my fair Gurtolle would bring the most pleasure to the Realm...." Andalor smothered a laugh. Surely, the noble's fair Gurtolle had already pleasured most of the Realm, and was diligently working her way through the remainder. More than fair, she was positively generous. "As I have said - I am giving it my consideration, but will not be rushed." "But Sire," whined a noble from a minor house, "This decision must be made soon!" His six daughters were driving him insane with their incessant squabbling about which of them the king would find the most desirable. "Trust that I will do what's best for the Realm," declared Andalor firmly. "But if I am hounded further, I shall marry a troll princess, and make her family predominant over all of you!" There was a horrified gasp from the assembled nobles - all but Mandor, whose chuckle soon graduated to a belly laugh. Andalor smiled at the noble, then announced, "Enough. We have been here too long and we grow tired. My thanks to you - you are dismissed." The nobles shuffled out with the others of their respective Houses, speaking of the events of the council session and the best way to draw the king's attention to the daughters of their house. Andalor and Reinald sat at the table until they had left, then got wearily to their feet and began the long walk back to their quarters. "I was proud of you, my boy, as your father would have been proud. You handled that situation with the vile Marvick in a perfectly regal way." Andalor nodded. "It's nice to know that your lessons in kingship weren't for naught. I wanted to kick him in his overfed ass. Goddess, but the Dordinal House is a burden! Why didn't you feed them to the Dark Creatures when you had the chance?" Reinald chuckled. "They are a lot to handle, but they fought as bravely and died as bravely as any of the others in the War with the Dark Creatures." "I'm sorry. I guess I kinda lost it at the end of the meeting." The king looked sheepish. "You mean that remark about the troll princess? No mind. Perhaps they will even give you the time you are looking for." Andalor snorted, and broke into the slang learned in Mulder's world that now peppered his vocabulary. "No way. I'm already avalanched with gifts from young hopefuls. Daily Dorbo comes to my quarters, weighted down with baked goods, tapestries, and splendid garments, supposedly from the talented hands of the daughters of the Houses. I have half a mind to charge them with cruelty to their servants, for I'm sure that that's who's producing these marvels." The two crossed the courtyard and entered their wing of the castle through a stone archway. "Well, Andalor, they have a point. I want you to have as much choice in the matter as possible. But the longer you put off the decision, the more pressure you will have. Events may occur that will limit your choice." They walked in silence through the quiet stone halls, then neared the door to Andalor's chambers. Reinald hesitated a moment. "You know, Lady Livirnea of Ranfaus is nearing marriageable age," he suggested mildly. "Livirnea? She's just a child," Andalor said dismissively "She will be entering her fourteenth summer shortly. A little young, yes, but the betrothal period could last a couple of season cycles, until she is old enough. She's quite pretty and quite intelligent, I'm told. And a marriage to the House of Ranfaus would cement them as allies - very strong allies. Maalfees will fall in right behind, leaving only Dordinal as a potential enemy. And House Dordinal is treacherous enough to plot against you even if you married within their house, so a marriage there would gain nothing." "Thank the Goddess for that," the young king muttered. "Look, Reinald, do we have to talk about this now? I'm tired." The old Mage looked fondly at the young man who bore so much. "No, Andalor, we don't have to do it now. Soon, but not now. Good night, my boy." "Good night, Reinald." Andalor pushed open the door to his chambers. Dorbo had just finished laying the table for night tea. A loaf of sweet brown bread and a pot of the boy's favorite jam stood on the small table near the hearth. As he entered, Dorbo picked up the pot of night tea and poured a steaming mug for him. Andalor threw himself into a chair by the fire and sipped his tea as Dorbo bustled about, setting out his nightclothes, extinguishing the torches and turning down his bed. The hot soporific seemed to course through his bloodstream, finally bringing relaxation to his tense muscles. He stared into the fire, his thoughts random. "Will there be anything else, King Andalor?" "Hm? Oh, no thank you, Dorbo." He craned his neck to look back at the servant waiting by the door. "Have a good night." "Thank you, Your Majesty. Sleep well." The elf bowed deeply and left. Smiling, Andalor turned back to the fire as the door clicked shut behind his servant. Dorbo had been his servant since he outgrew the need for a nursemaid. In spite of their familiarity, after the coronation the little elf insisted on observing all the formalities of Andalor's position, even though the boy himself was uncomfortable with it. He felt himself getting sleepy, and let his mind wander. Livirnea of Ranfaus. Well, he had to admit to himself it was not the worst idea he had heard on the subject. He had met the girl once, several season-cycles before, and truly could not say that it would be a bad match. But he resented the fact that, regardless of how palatable the match might be, it would not be of his own making. Could he ever really be happy with a wife not of his choosing? His father and mother had been happy - well, at least he had always assumed so - and their marriage had been arranged by the Council. Maybe.... Impatiently, he sighed. No, it simply would not work. He would end up hating the innocent Livirnea, and all because she, like himself, had been an unfortunate pawn in a political game. It wasn't fair to either of them. Not for the first time that night, he thought of Shannon. Where was she now, and what was she doing? He knew that Mulder was probably conserving the Oracle crystals, not using them unless it was a necessity. Still, it would be nice to hear from her. To hear that she was well, and safe. And that she had been thinking about him.... He caught himself with a little jerk, just before he drifted off. Wearily, he rose from the chair, washed and changed into his night shorts. Then, drawing aside the curtains, he climbed up onto the tall bed and slid between the cool, fresh smelling covers. Snuggling down, he smiled to himself. I must be more tired than I thought, he mused. Why would I be thinking about Shannon? End of Chapter Ten THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eleven Across the dark courtyard, hearthglow spilled from the windows of the little cottage. Jourdain and Aldara had been up for a candlemark, since Daanna's latest dream. The little girl had been comforted and soothed, and just had returned to an apparently dreamless sleep. Her parents, on the other hand, had given up all thoughts of sleep for the moment. Jourdain stirred the fire into life and set a kettle on the hod, then eased himself into one of the deeply cushioned chairs by the hearth. "I swear she slept better when she was a baby." His eyes were darkly circled, and he wondered to himself if they would ever be able to get a full night's rest again. Aldara turned haunted eyes to him. "Jourdain, what's happening to our child? Is she enchanted? I don't understand any of this! Another foretelling dream - the third this week alone. And always the same - 'stay together, watch out for the bad lady, pass all the tests', each time with more urgency than the last." Her voice broke. "Jourdain, I want my little girl back!" He took her hands and pulled her from her chair into his lap, cradling her as he had done their child shortly before. "I don't know what it all means, Aldara. The ways of magic are just as foreign and difficult for me to comprehend as they are for you. But of one thing I am sure - this has meaning. These dreams are telling us something, warning us. And we are meant to listen and profit by them. In the morning, I will speak to Reinald of this latest dream." "But who is doing it, who is making her have them?" she cried desperately. He shook his head. His deep voice was calm. "I don't know. Maybe no one. You know what Lita says. The orange and blue of her aura is unique, and it is stronger, more visible than usual. Perhaps she was born to be a seer, a prophetess. I'm a simple man, Aldara. I don't question. These things just are." "She is being robbed of her childhood, and I hate it." He smiled down at his wife. "You don't know that. Except for the dreams, she seems happy enough. And she is very intelligent for her age. All we can do is be there for her when she needs us, as any parent would be. This will pass." "I hope so, Jourdain. By the Goddess, I hope so." - - - - - The sun high in the sky was streaming through the windows, throwing rainbows across the chamber walls by the time they awoke. At some point during the night they had moved from the hearthrug to the high Realm bed. Now they lay in each other's arms and sleepily watched the servant lay the table for breakfast through a blizzard of white lace. //Can you grab me something to wear, something a little more...more?\\ Her thoughts came to him as if he had formed them himself. She caught his bubble of amusement and the quick flash of regret as he lovingly traced his palm from her throat to her breast, the nipple clearly visible through the diaphanous black nightshift. A quick kiss and he rolled out of bed to search through the armoire to find her something to put on. The servant, an elderly male elf, wished him good day and carried on with his chores. Mulder tossed a silky wrap in to Scully, then turned toward the entrance to their room. "Hello?" Shannon's head poked through the door to their chamber. "Well, it's about time you two got up. Oh, great! Breakfast! I'm starved." Dressed in a flowing green underdress and gold bodice, she entered the room and plopped herself down on the cushions around the table. Only Realm etiquette kept her from helping herself to the many strange but tempting dishes until Mulder and Sculy finally seated themselves. "Sleep well?" Scully asked. "Great - and yourselves?" Shannon returned with a mischievous grin. "Never mind, spare me the details I'm too young to know about." Mulder and Scully both colored. "Just pass that yellow stuff," Mulder suggested, hoping the subject would change. "Sure." Shannon frowned and closed her eyes. Slowly, the bowl levitated, dipped alarmingly, and began moving in Mulder's general direction, picking up a dangerous amount of speed as it did so. A messy accident was averted only by his quick use of magic to halt the bowl and right it before it overturned in his lap. "Sorry," grinned the girl. "I wanted to surprise you." "You nearly surpassed your wildest expectations," Mulder retorted dryly. "Sorry," he called over to the servant, who was shaken by the unexpected display of magic. The elf scurried out of the room. "I think we have a little more work to do, Shannon, before you're not a danger to your tablemates." "I'm beginning to feel left out, " complained Scully, only half-kidding. "Try it - you'll never know if you can until you try. Go ahead," he urged "Take a shot at it. The principles and energies are very similar to what you use in healing." She looked at him questioningly, to see how serious he was. Then she felt his presence in her mind, giving support, helping guide her to focus her thoughts and ground the power. She concentrated on the bowl of yellow mush-like food that sat in front of Mulder, focusing her energies on it, on making it rise. Unnoticed, the rings they wore glowed brightly, the stones becoming almost luminescent. Slowly, the bowl rose a finger's breadth above the table, then flew up into the air where it hovered for some seconds before settling back down with a soft thud. She sat back, amazed and surprisingly drained. "Hey, not bad for a first try," commented her bondmate approvingly. "I must be rubbing off on you." //Mulder, you didn't-\\ //Well, I may have helped just a little.\\ His eyes were warm, his smile proud. Their gazes locked. "Hey guys - you said you'd cut that out!" Scully laughed. "Sorry, Shannon. You're right. Let's eat." Now a plethora of new taste experiences awaited them. Cuisine at Fairwoods Keep had been mostly those dishes favored by humans, except when Lita made one of her special elven treats. They had always assumed that the food there was pretty representative of that of other cultures in the Realm. They had all been too hungry and too exhausted to take much note of what they were eating the night before. Now they realized how sheltered their experience at the castle had been. Mulder helped himself to the yellow stuff with some misgiving, but found it delicious - an elven equivalent to porridge, but with an interesting honey-cinnamon flavor. The fruit juice which tasted like peppermint surprised them, but went well with the flatbread and sweet cakes that lay piled on their wooden platter. Cheeses in a rainbow of colors and differing flavors and textures sat nearby. Strange fruits were presented in a myriad of ways - whole, stewed, sliced, soaked in wine and spices. When they had tried all the offerings with varying degrees of satisfaction, Shannon pushed herself back from the table. "I'm going to the marketplace - are you two coming?" "We'll see you there as soon as we're dressed. And try to stay out of trouble," Mulder called with mock severity after her retreating form. He caught her laugh as the door closed. A candlemark later, they strolled through the marketplace side by side. Scully had chosen a flowing lightweight wool gown in white, which she had dubbed her "Princess Leia outfit" as soon as she saw it. Despite the bright sunlight, the air was crisp and cool, and she was glad for the long forest green wool tunic she had donned over the dress. A silver belt held her weapons. Mulder was clothed in brown leather breeches and a loose white shirt belted with leather, over which he wore his Mage cloak. The marketplace was a mass of beings, colors, aromas and sounds. Elves from remote villages spoke in a patois of New Realm and the old elven tongue, and the harsh gutturals of the ancient troll language could be heard. Traders cried their wares, minstrels played their odd stringed and wind instruments, and children shrieked with excitement. Here and there fights broke out among different beings, a sign of the tensions sweeping over the Realm, but Mavor's soldiers quickly broke them up. Food of every kind and description - some even defying identification - was offered at busy kiosks; everywhere beings seemed to be munching enjoyably on something. Pennants flew over the booths, bearing the age-old crests of the clan of the sellers. They checked in at the troll caravan, the wagons arranged in an arc, the sides let down to create platforms on which to display their goods. After their hard journey, Mulder and Scully were gratified to see that business was brisk. Krolgar waved happily to them before returning to bargain with two customers. "I'm not sure I'd buy a used car from him," commented Scully, "but he might make a first class negotiator for the State Department." Mulder smiled his agreement. They made several circuits of the marketplace. Scully, no poor negotiator herself, bought several small items - a lovely miniature tapestry and a couple of inexpensive but beautifully crafted pieces of jewelry for her mother. Mulder bought a short double- edged dagger in a tooled leather sheath. "It's for Skinner - he can use it as a letter opener." His bondmate looked at it doubtfully. It was very alien- looking, with Old Realm symbols on the sheath and the blade of a metal that was unknown in their world. "How are you going to explain it?" "I'm not. He may not even notice. And if he does, he won't ask, because he'll be afraid I'll tell him it's from Reticula. It'll drive him crazy," Mulder said with a grin. "Besides, it'll give me something comforting to look at on his desk when I go in to get my ass chewed." Scully laughed as he slipped the dagger into his belt. Furflot found them in the milling sea of beings, not as difficult a task as it sounded. Mulder was the tallest person in the crowd by at least half a meter, and his Mage cloak and aura would have located him even if his height hadn't. "Mage Mulder, Prince Mavor will be ready for you shortly. Will you join him?" "By all means, Furflot. I'm afraid we kind of lost track of time." The three left the hubbub of the marketplace for the cool serenity of the palace. After a series of turns and staircases, they were shown into Prince Mavor's private quarters. The elf sat at a worktable, writing. He was clad in the scarlet bordered with gold that was almost indistinguishable from Furflot's uniform. They bowed low in respect for both the being and his position. Smiling, Mavor rose and advanced toward them, extending his hand in greeting in a very un-Realm-like way. "Good to see you again, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully. It's been too long. I'm glad you could visit before you must return to your world." The bondmates looked at each other. As a staunch ally of Andalor, Mavor was privy to more knowledge of the happenings in Fairwoods Demesne than most. But they had always assumed that he knew only that they were from a distant land with different customs. Reinald had kept their origins secret from everyone but those involved in their arrival. Exactly how much did he know? Seeing their startled faces, he continued, "Yes, I know the whole story now - the Vortex, your world, Andalor's little trip there. Reinald and the Professor were most informative when I was at the castle for the coronation. Besides, I might have guessed that you weren't from our world. Certain versions of the Prophecy hinted strongly that our saviors from the Dark Creatures would come from well beyond our world." "We meant you no slight, Your Highness. It just seemed...less confusing, less alarming, if our origins remained unknown," Scully explained. "No offense taken. Will you join me for tea?" He indicated a low dining table and they settled themselves on the cushions. Pouring the tea, Mavor said, "Now, I understand you are on something of a quest." Mulder nodded and quickly summarized their mission - to find Hannu, for personal reasons as well as for the good of the Realm. "Hannu," the Prince replied thoughtfully. "Interesting. Well, in questions of the lifebond, you must certainly hope you find him. No one has as much knowledge about the lifebond as Hannu was reputed to have. It had been pretty well discounted as yet another myth - until you came, that is. I can't say if the physical problems you are experiencing are due to the uniqueness of the bond itself, or its affect on someone of your origins. Possibly Hannu can. I'll never forget the first time I saw you two together...." He paused several moments in reminiscence, then continued with energy. "Now, as to the cause of the ills befalling the Realm, I have no doubt of what it is - the Black Arts. Daily, the stench of black magic increases as the troubles worsen. A more difficult question would be who is causing it." "Do you have any ideas? I had thought that the Black Arts had been for the most part eradicated in the Realm," Mulder said. "In the Realm it has, but the Realm is but one part of our world. There are three main areas. The Realm covers but the central third. To the west, there is largely unsettled territory. Great deserts, barren plateaus, wild mountain ranges. Some of our unique beings - those you may have seen at the coronation, for example - come from some of those areas. They live in loose clans and call no man king. Then to the east, beyond the Mossy River to the north and the Greenswan River to the south, there is another area beyond the reach of the Realm. The whole eastern area of our world carries with it many strange tales - perhaps legends, perhaps the truth. But again, little is known for certain of the area and its peoples. So to answer your question, Mage Mulder, the Black Arts may flourish in these areas and the Realm would be none the wiser. If I had to make a guess about the source of the Realm's current ills, I would say certainly to the east, and possibly Witch Tears Swamp." "Mulder has told me the little he knows of the Swamp, that no sane being would travel through there - that and the Greenswan Forest. We're fairly close to there, aren't we?" asked Scully. "You have been advised well. Yes, we are too close for comfort sometimes, certainly too close to relax our vigilance. Every so often a creature strays from there, wreaking death and destruction on our people until we hunt it down. But at least Greenswan has never been associated with the Black Arts. Witch Tears Swamp, on the other hand...." "Tell us about it," urged Mulder, helping himself to more tea. "Witch Tears Swamp is in the extreme northeast part of our world. It is said that long ago it was ruled by a dynasty of Mage- kings who were practitioners of the Black Arts. They became a danger to our world, threatening to take over the Realm and everywhere else, for that matter. A consortium of Blue Mages - the most powerful practitioners of pure magic in the Realm - worked together to strip them of their power. Eventually, the dynasty ended - the Black Mage-king either driven out or killed. But...." The prince frowned. "But if the Black Mage-king is indeed gone, why do beings still avoid the Swamp? Is it merely superstition?" questioned Scully. The prince sighed. "Another of our legends, a little known one, tells of a daughter of the Black Mage-king, supposedly the only one of his family to survive. It is said she somehow managed to learn enough to not only control her power, but to actually increase it. There was supposed to have been a climactic battle between this Black Mage-queen and a Blue Mage - some say Hannu himself - after which both vanished without a trace." "Nothing vanishes without a trace," replied Scully, with a certain touch of irony. "And if this was Hannu who took part in the battle and he vanished, then we're wasting our time looking for him." The prince shook his head. "Not necessarily. It is said that Hannu reappeared after a very long period of time, then immediately retreated from the world." "And if Hannu could reappear," Mulder continued thoughtfully, "presumably the Black Mage-queen could too." "Precisely." The three finished their tea in ruminative silence. A queen out for revenge, with almost unlimited power and proficient in the Black Arts, could certainly explain the uncharacteristic hatred and violence rife in the Realm. "So how do we find Hannu?" the young Mage asked finally. "Unfortunately, it means turning to another of our legends." Mavor rose and crossed the high-beamed room to a tall bookcase and plucked a volume from a shelf. He returned to the table and handed the book to Scully. She leafed through the pages blankly, then passed it on to Mulder who was proficient in the Old Realm language of the book. He read silently for several minutes, then closed the volume and gave it back to Mavor. "Apparently his whereabouts are secret, and he is kind of - there isn't a direct translation for the word, but 'protected' is close enough - from the world by both magic and a few select beings," Mulder explained. "The story goes that the beings will let a chosen few pass to see Hannu, but not until they solve some sort of problem he presents." He looked meaningfully at Scully. "Daanna's dream!" she exclaimed. "'You have to pass the test'." He nodded, then turned toward Prince Mavor. "How reliable are these legends?" "No one knows. But they're the only information we have." Mulder rose, offering a hand to Scully. "Thank you, Your Highness. You've been a great help." He walked them to the door of his chamber. "I hope you plan to attend the party tonight. We have a celebration every spring which coincides with the Spring Market Fair. All are invited. We had given some thought to canceling in view of the interspecies difficulties, but instead decided to present an example of how the species could get along. I know there have been some problems in the marketplace, but they have not been serious, and I would not want to disappoint my people who look forward to this event with great anticipation." "We'd be honored to attend," said Scully. "Thank you." He nodded, smiling. "Your servants will give you ample time to prepare. I plan to rest now for tonight - elven parties are long, energetic affairs. I suggest you do the same." They left the prince and strolled the corridors of the palace arm in arm. "What now, love? Back to the marketplace to see what damage my halla is doing, or take Mavor's advice and rest up so we can party hearty?" "I don't know, what do you feel like doing, Mulder? Because it's a cinch that after yesterday, we have to stick within sight of each other or suffer the consequences." "I've got a pretty low tolerance for shopping. And if Shannon is turning the marketplace upside down, I don't want to know about it. I'm feeling lazy - how about a nap?" Scully smiled and squeezed his arm. "One of your better suggestions." - - - - - At dawn two mornings later, Scully smiled over at the still sleeping form of her bondmate as she packed their belongings. The extra day they had spent at Fairwoods Glens had been worth it - the trolls got more time to trade, and they had more time to recover from their journey thus far and the incredible party two nights previous. Elves knew how to party. Indeed, they gave the trolls a run for their money when it came to excessive partying. There was more food than Scully had ever seen before in one place, and somehow, all of it had been consumed by the time the party broke up at dawn the following morning. She and Shannon had quickly learned the old elf folk dances, and never lacked for partners. Mulder had joined in on some, but for the most part was content to see her whirling throughout the room in her sea-green gown, her auburn hair loose, her cheeks pink with exertion and excitement. Only two fist fights occurred to mar the occasion, but the miscreants were separated and led out to cool off overnight in the dungeon, and the party continued as if the incidents hadn't happened. She had also learned to her chagrin that elven Spring Punch might taste like an innocuous fruity concoction, but it tended to give human overimbibers a nightmare of a hangover. She and Shannon had crept around their chambers the day after the party, unable to do anything more strenuous than read, and found that turning the pages was too deafening for their pounding heads to withstand. Mulder, who had been warned off the punch by a concerned Furflot, was not afflicted except for the echo of Scully's discomfort he received through their bond. Since Scully was not up to going out and their bond seemed to have a problem with their being separated, Mulder invited Mavor to join him in their chamber. The two spent the day bent over the scroll Reinald had given him, trying to decipher the ancient language with no success whatsoever. A timid knock sounded on the door, and Shannon stuck her head in. "Jhorgab's here. Time to go." Scully nodded. "We're just about ready. And how are you this morning?" Shannon smiled wanly. "I'm hoping the fresh air will help. Dana, if I EVER do that again, for God's sake, STOP me!" "One of life's little lessons we all have to learn. If I had known what a punch that punch packed, I would have stopped both of us. Is anything else wrong, Shannon? You don't seem yourself this morning." Shannon sat down on a cushion by the hearth. "I don't know, Dana. I haven't been sleeping very well. I don't know what the heck it is. I lie down and get relaxed and then I just start thinking and my mind keeps going around and around." Scully tucked the last memento in her saddlebag and went to sit next to the troubled girl. "Anything I can help with? Are you thinking about anything in particular?" "Yeah...a couple of things, actually. Like what I'm going to do when you and Mulder go back to our world." "I know that's going to be a big decision for you. Any idea of what you're going to do yet? I mean, I wish we all could stay here in a way, but it's just not possible." "Oh, I know that, Dana. And I think I've just about made up my mind to stay here when you leave." Scully nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. She and Mulder had also discussed innumerable times what would be best for Shannon's future. She knew he had offered to support her, to send her to any school she wanted, and have her live with them on school holidays. Mulder was taking his responsibilities as the girl's guardian extremely seriously. But more importantly, he had grown to love her like the little sister he had lost so long ago, whom Shannon more than remotely resembled. Scully knew that while staying in the Realm might be the best choice Shannon could make for herself, it would be another loss for her bondmate to endure. "You said a couple of things had been bothering you." "Yeah, well, you'll probably like this one even less," Shannon replied. "I've been thinking a lot - maybe too much - about Andy." "Just what do you mean by 'thinking'?" "You know, that I like him...a lot. And I miss him more than I thought I would. An awful lot more than I thought I would. Wondering what he's doing, is he safe, that kind of thing." "And wondering if he's thinking those same things about you." She smiled shyly. "Well...yeah." "Hey, kiddo - how's it going?" Mulder had emerged from the bed, hair tousled with sleep. "Feeling better today?" "Oh, yeah, I'm really up for a nice long horseback ride to Dreegan," Shannon replied dryly. "Good," said Scully, rising. "Because that's exactly what we'll be doing. About half a candlemark, Mulder." She shouldered the two saddlebags, grabbed another sack of supplies, and left to organize their departure. "I couldn't help but overhear..." "I was afraid of that," Shannon said glumly, as Mulder sat near her. He nodded, and his eyes, deadly serious, locked with hers. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Shannon. There's no future in it. That's not your fault, it's not his. It's just the way things are here. I wish it could be otherwise for both you and Andalor." "But I can't help how I feel." Tears welled up in the girl's honey-colored eyes. "I know, dear. Whatever Dana and I can do, we will, you know that. But this culture has been around a lot longer than any of us, and it will be around long after we're gone. We're not going to change it...we have no right to." As she began to weep in earnest, he slid over and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He held her and stroked her hair until she calmed, then she sniffed and pulled away. "Never mind. He probably doesn't feel the same way about me, anyway." "He'd be crazy not to." Mulder's look spoke volumes, and the girl blushed prettily. "Okay, kiddo. Scram while I get washed and dressed. Go help Scully saddle the horses - and DON'T try to take a shortcut and use your magic. We'll have a stampede on our hands!" Shannon giggled and went to join Scully in the courtyard. Within the candlemark, they had rejoined the troll caravan and were on the road to Dreegan. End of Chapter Eleven THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twelve The road from Fairwood Glens to Dreegan skirted the edge of the Greenswan forest. They cut across rolling hills getting closer and closer to the mountain peaks that rose above them in the distance. Most of the surrounding population was elven, with a few stray humans thrown in. Trolls rarely came this far south, which made the caravan something of a spectacle. More than once the farmers and their families stopped in mid-planting, leaving hoes and workbeasts aside, to watch wide-eyed as the wagons rolled past. The trolls took the attention with easy good-humor, waving their curved, long- fingered hands in greeting as they passed by. For her part, Scully was content to ride peacefully. Despite the brief respite that Fairwood Glens had provided, this journey had been fraught with trouble. It had only been by lucky chance that she, Mulder and Shannon had not been injured during the bandit attack a few days ago, and the weight of healing so many others had drawn deeply upon her reserves of strength and herbal supplies. Of course, the heavy partying with the elves hadn't done her much good either, she thought ruefully. Sensing her somber mood, Mulder reached out to her with silent reassurance. //Are you all right?\\ //Yes...\\ She turned to look up into his deep hazel eyes, and forced out a smile. But the expression turned genuine within an instant of seeing his face. //Yes, love, I'm fine. Just a little worried. Wondering what's going to leap out at us next.\\ //I know,\\ Mulder replied, //but it's hard to be on edge all the time. Sooner or later, you have to let your guard down, or you'll go crazy.\\ There was a wealth of meaning in his words, and she reached out to him physically this time. They were, as they had been for several days now, staying close to each other's side. Separation, even for short periods of time, left them both feeling physically sick and emotionally raw. After a separation that morning had caused Mulder to snap unpleasantly at Shannon, they had agreed, without needing to verbalize it, that they would avoid being parted for any length of time. His fingers closed over hers, and she felt the tension ease from her body. Just feeling his skin next to hers was a balm to her senses. Yet, it also left a tingly desire for more, deeper contact. She had always been a carefully controlled person, guarding her privacy, and she didn't understand why she could so easily welcome public interaction with her lover, even to the point that if he had wished to, she'd have made love to him in full view of the entire caravan. //Now *that* has possibilities,\\ he teased lightly, catching the flash of images directly from her mind. She gave him a look of disapproval, then sighed, squeezing his fingers between her own. //I hope this Hannu can help us. As much as I love your company, this is getting ridiculous.\\ //Yeah,\\ he agreed thoughtfully. //The information Mavor gave us seems to contain more questions than answers. But it does sound as though Hannu is the one person who might have some idea of what is happening to us. I love being with you, but we can't live or function if we can't get more than a few paces apart without freaking out.\\ //Freaking out?\\ she repeated with a feather-light chuckle. He grinned unabashedly at her, his mind aglow with affection and understanding. //Got a better description for it?\\ His eyes were sparkling like emeralds in the sunlight as he prepared for her response. //Not really, but...\\ She was interrupted before she could finish the thought. "Mage Mulder," Shannon called out insistently, her long black braid flying out behind her as she deftly raced her horse up besides them. Jhorgab followed close behind his new compatriot, his green-skinned face bright with anticipation. "Mage Mulder," she said breathlessly. "Is it time for my lesson yet? I said Jhorg could watch, if that's OK." "I will be no trouble or disturbance at all," the troll said expansively. "I will watch silently, and stay well out of the way. But I am quite fascinated by magic. It is very rare among trolls, so we do not get much opportunity to study it in action..." "Be quiet, Jhorg," Shannon told him, with a quick, impatient glance over her shoulder. Even as he sputtered a suitably long-winded apology, she was turning back to Mulder. "Please, Taabsut Mulder. I want to try that levitation thingy again." Mulder and Scully shared a quick glance of amusement, then Mulder looked gravely at young pupil. "All right, Shannon. But before we try the more complicated spell, I think it would be a good idea to do some more work on your shielding. It's still less stable than I'd like." "Oh, do we have to?" Shannon came just short of whining. She hated these exercises, they always gave her a massive headache without any sensation of accomplishing anything. But Mulder simply stared firmly at her. "Oh all right," she muttered. "Good," he smiled at her. "Now don't forget..." "To ground and center. I know." Closing her eyes, she repeated the now familiar steps. The electric tingle she now recognized as magical energy was recalcitrant, but she was able to seize hold of it and push. Down towards the ground she urged it, feeling the earth as a firm anchor beneath her, then she reached inside and tried to calm herself. That was always the hardest part, trying to keep her excitement and anticipation from disrupting her control. But more than once she'd learned the hard way that she was in for a literal shock if she didn't. Control was a Mage's watchword, and she had learned to appreciate the need. So she fought for and gained peace at the center of herself, then slowly opened her eyes and nodded towards Mulder to signify that she was ready. "Good," he told her. "Now, slowly, lift your shield." She had come to see this, almost visually, as a shimmering blue curtain of light between her and the rest of the world. If she squinched her eyes just right, she could almost see it coat her skin in an azure glow. Mulder's was much clearer, she didn't doubt that if he wished it, anyone, even the most magic-blinded troll could see it clearly. Hers was a pale, faint mist, swirling around the edges of her vision. "That's it," Mulder told her approvingly. "Better." Shannon smiled, the expression just short of being a grimace. It was hard to maintain this for long, but it was easier than it had been the day before. She held onto the shield tight, preparing for Mulder's push. His energy swelled, and she could feel it sing, calling out to her own. Even before he began to probe at her shield, she could feel the aftershock of his power. It was demanding, fiery, ready to rage at the slightest slip of his control. But he wielded it like a fine instrument, sending only the slightest jolt to brush against her shield. Her entire body shook in the saddle, startling her horse, and the animal almost bolted. Her concentration slipped as she grabbed for the reins, and her own aura flared out of control. "Shannon!" Mulder called out, dampening down on the power with a quickly recited chant. "I'm sorry," she said when she finally had the horse soothed down. "It's all right," he replied. "We shouldn't be doing this under these conditions anyway. Perhaps we should wait until we camp for the night." "No, I'll be okay," Shannon argued, but it was easy to tell his mind was already settled. She glanced over to Scully, but the older woman gave her a quick shake of her head. "Mulder's right, Shannon. It won't be long now." "What happened?" Jhorgab finally interrupted, bouncing in his saddle with barely repressed frustration. "I didn't see anything! Did you use magic, Shannon?" "Well, sort of," Shannon replied with a sigh. "But it didn't quite work right." "What was it supposed to do?" Jhorgab demanded with irrepressible curiosity. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances of amusement as Shannon attempted to explain, her words constantly interrupted by new questions from her friend. The two adults nudged their horses ahead, sharing a smile as Shannon's voice rang out in frustration. "You could let me finish a sentence once in a while, you know?" - - - - - They camped in a small clearing beside a rocky stream. The water was clear and fresh, and the trolls were quick to harvest the silver-scaled fish that swam swiftly through the shallow rapids. Soon the campfires were lit, and the evening meal under way within a closed circle of wagons. Due to the previous attack, the guard was doubled, and the sentries stood at sharper alert. Every sound that trickled in from the surrounding countryside was suspect, but nothing came out of the night. Within the center of the camp, Mulder and Scully chatted quietly with Krolgar while Jhorgab and Shannon joined four other trolls for an exuberant game of cards. From a distance it reminded Mulder some of poker, though the rules appeared to be much more intricate. Though that could be less the rules and more Jhorgab's inability to say in one sentence what he could in four. Mulder chuckled under his breath, then turned his attention back to Scully as she bent her ear to Krolgar. Mulder registered the conversation, mostly focused on Krolgar's travels in the northern part of the Realm, with one part of his brain, while the rest focused on trying to solve the riddle of Reinald's ancient scrolls. The script was still indecipherable for the most part, though he had made some progress with the archaic Old Realm preamble. But even so, he was certain that he was missing an important key. A sudden gust of wind sent a chill down Mulder's back. Tensing, he turned just in time to see the campfire roar with the breeze, sending a shower of sparks into the air. His stomach hit his pelvis hard, as his skin prickled with goosebumps. He was already on his feet when the wind shifted direction, sweeping through the fire and throwing long fingers of flame in his direction. "Scully!" he shouted out, panic racing along every nerve in his body. At his warning, Scully and Krolgar leapt to their feet, barely getting out of the way of the fire as it began to rage out of control. Sparks flew in every direction, batted around by swirling gusts of suddenly heated air, landing on grass and clothing and skin, bursting into open flames. Mulder raised his hands, the power surging within him, only to be confronted by a blossoming flower of fire. The heat singed his throat, burning at his eyes, and he froze with fear. "Noooo," he moaned, shrinking away, yet unable to move his feet. Scully grabbed his arm in an attempt to draw him back to safer ground, but he was rooted to the spot. "Mulder!" she shouted, and then again. //MULDER!!!\\ He didn't respond. His eyes dilated, tears dripping unheeded in a physiological attempt to protect the sensitive organs from the searing air. He was shell-shocked with horror, unable to respond, even as the fire blazed in his direction like a living thing. //MULDER!!!\\ Scully tried again. "Damn it, Mulder, snap out of it!" She grabbed him and shoved as hard as she could. He stumbled, then crumbled to the ground. The shock of impact brought him out of his panic, and his eyes focused on her face. Her hair glowed around her face, reflecting the firelight. Her eyes, like crystalline sky, fixed on his and drew him into her. //Mulder, listen to me. I know you're afraid, but you *can* handle this. You've done so before. I'm with you. Take my hand, Mulder, take my hand.\\ His eyes, as open as those of a startled deer, slid down to her outstretched hand, and trembling, he reached for it. Their fingers brushed, then clung, her touch invigorating him. He got to his feet quickly, then ducked aside to avoid another shower of glittering sparks. "Come on!" he cried, drawing her after him as he ran away from the inferno that threatened to engulf the entire camp. Only when he was certain that Scully was safe, did he turn back towards the fire. His jaw worked hard, while his features tightened into chiseled marble. Without releasing Scully's hand, he lifted his free hand and pointed it towards the unruly blaze. "STOP!" he commanded. The fire sputtered, almost seeming to swerve away from him. He stretched his spine fully, reaching his hand towards the sky. "STOP!" he demanded again, and this time he was answered by the thunderclap. A great darkness obscured the moons and stars, centering above their camp, and then with a bright flare of lightening, followed by a near-deafening thunderclap, the skies opened and buckets of rain flowed downward onto the raging fire. The elements clashed to the symphony of the storm until the fire gave way and died. The rain fell in a closed circle upon the freshly charred ground turning ashes to mud. The water pooled in a tiny area, as though held in place by an invisible barrier, until with one last roar of thunder, the rain ceased and the flood ran loose from the center of the camp. - - - - - She felt the impact of the rainstorm, the power surging back towards her, sending electric tingles up her arms. She gasped and released her hold on the inky sphere, yanking shut her connection with the events playing themselves out in a distant part of the Realm. So close! She'd almost had him. It had not been easy to discern his fear of fire, so deeply buried was the phobia, but when she'd found it, she had crowed with delight. So little energy required to send the campfire blazing out of control, and his reaction had been immensely satisfying. Such an incredible rush of fear and horror. And then, suddenly, it had disappeared. Something had blocked her out, shutting off the feed of black energy from his mind to hers. The shutdown had happened so quickly, his power had surged so strongly, that she couldn't even determine what the cause of the interference had been. One moment she had been drinking in his strength, the next she had been left reeling, her mind nearly shattered by the wave of pure clean energy. When she had recovered enough to voice an audible response, she screamed viciously. Her red-nailed hand swept out, tossing objects at random, forcing goblets and books to scatter across the stone floor. She pulled herself back up to the boiling blackened crystal and reached for it with still-shaking hands. This shouldn't have happened, and she needed to know how he had been able to break her hold upon him. This would obviously require more time and preparation than she had anticipated. Perhaps a more subtle approach would be required until she knew more. Her eyes sparkled, joylessly, as she began to consider possibilities. This might not be as rewarding as open bloodshed, but there was a certain pleasure in watching her inferiors scurry in response to events they did not understand - - - - - They were lucky the damage wasn't more severe. There hadn't been much rain recently in this part of the Realm and if Mulder had not called down the storm, the fire could have destroyed far more than the caravan itself. The damage was still severe enough to require a long night of hard work from the trolls and their human companions. Scully and Gyruth were relieved to find that none of the burns were severe enough to be life-threatening, but they were soon exhausted by the need to soothe the pain and fear of those who had been scorched by the runaway flame. Mulder, for his part, was still shaken by his experience. He'd thought he'd managed to overcome the worst of his phobia during that long-ago case in Boston. Obviously he hadn't. He watched the trolls scurrying around to check the amount of damage to their wares and belongings, castigating himself quite thoroughly for not responding as quickly or as effectively as he should have. What's the use of having immense power, if you can't manage to use it properly when needed? Shannon came up beside him, but didn't bother to speak. It hadn't been difficult to sense the torment he was suffering, Mulder had a way of holding himself when he was in pain that spoke volumes. He looked distant, his eyes focused inward, not with the joyful sparkle that lit them when he was conversing with Scully, but instead with a somber darkness that seemed impenetrable. She waited with him for a while, hoping he would snap out of it. Scully was nearby, as she had to be, but was lost in a healer's trance, unable to offer her bondmate the comfort he needed. Or the kick in the butt. So it was left to her to do it, Shannon decided. Goodness knows she owed her guardian a lot. Just when she thought she'd lost everything, he'd taken her into his heart and given her a home. So there was no way she was going to let him stand there and beat himself up because he'd panicked briefly in a difficult situation. "Mulder?" she called out, tugging at his arm. He didn't respond, still staring off into space. "Mulder!" she grabbed him and yanked hard. He trembled, then finally turned to look at her. His expression was smooth, the anguish showing only in his too open eyes and the lines etched around him mouth. "It's not your fault," she insisted. "I should have..." "You were frightened. So what? We all get that way sometimes, and besides, you stopped the fire. "It almost stopped me." "You're afraid of it." He chuckled harshly. "I'm terrified of it." "But you beat it!" she insisted. "Did I?" He shook his head. "Yes! Mulder, listen to me. We're all scared of something, most of us are scared of everything. Don't beat yourself up about it. Aldara says that understanding and accepting your fear is a necessary part of life." Mulder shook his head, having trouble imagining the vibrant little warrior being frightened of anything. Except.... He turned and looked at Shannon. She smiled and touched his arm reassuringly. "It's okay to be afraid. Just don't let it get the better of you. And don't you dare beat yourself up." She glanced pointedly towards Scully bent over one of the burnt trolls. Mulder followed his ward's amber gaze, unable to stop the corners of his mouth tilting upward at the sight. "Scully'd be furious with me." "Yes, and I for one don't want to be around if she is," Shannon replied ruefully. Mulder couldn't help it, he starting chucking. Shannon grinned at him. "Feeling better?" Shaking himself like a wet dog, he rolled his shoulders back, releasing some of the heavy weight of tension. "I guess so. Thanks," he said sincerely. Shannon smiled. "I figure I owe you one. Besides, I've got an ulterior motive. A couple of the wagons are a bit mired in mud because of the storm and Krolgar wants everyone to help dig them out. You made it rain - you get to deal with the mud!" Winking at him, she walked away. Mulder groaned aloud, swept the damp hair out of his eyes, and with one last glance at Scully, turned and followed. - - - - - They were cursed. There could be no question about it. The morning after the fire had dawned bright and pleasant, and they had set off again with relieved spirits. The light mood had not lasted long. By midday, they'd already had to deal with one broken wheel, one overturned wagon, lame animals, a seemingly endless expanse of potholes in the road, and a spotty drizzle that sent chills down their spines. Above them, the sun continued to shine as though it was mocking them, and Krolgar took to shaking his fist at it in frustrated anger. "It won't help," Mulder observed wryly as he rode up beside the heavy-set troll merchant. "Maybe, but it makes *me* feel better. H'Portil'see curse this road. It's been one problem after another. I'm almost afraid to see what is around the next bend." Krolgar sighed expansively. "I know," Mulder had to agree. Glancing behind him to check on Scully, deep in conversation with Shannon and Jhorgab, he rubbed at his chin. "It does have me worried. I don't like having quite so many accidents happen so close together. I suppose it could just be a run of bad luck, but I've never been a believer in coincidences." Krolgar gave him a sharp look. "Do you think...?" Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I can't discern any significant trace of magic, but it wouldn't take anything too complicated to cause these kinds of troubles. And I haven't done a thorough search either. I've just been keeping my senses open for anything out of the ordinary." He gazed around him steadily. "So far, nothing..." Krolgar frowned, his thick-browed face settling into a menacing scowl. "It might, perhaps, be wise for you to do that search. If we are carrying some kind of curse, it will not do to let it sit upon us. Already we have come close to disaster twice. We cannot take any more chances." Mulder nodded. "I'll do it when we stop for lunch," he glanced up at the sky, "which should be soon. It'll be easier to focus if we aren't moving." "Good," Krolgar agreed. "Thank you, Mage Mulder." - - - - - Scully watched anxiously as Mulder walked from wagon to wagon, lighting up each in a pale azure glow, then moving on to the next, his face darkened in concentration. She could feel the drain on his strength, and she wished she had more to give him. But she too was worn out from the needs of this journey, and could only watch and wait for him to finish. When he was done, he returned to her side, slowly shaking his head. "What is it?" she asked. "There's nothing, and yet...." He sat down wearily, and she reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back against her and she cradled him gently. "I think there's something there, but it's not a specific spell. Most curses of this kind would have a focus, an object or a person onto which the disruptive magic has been grafted. I didn't find anything of the sort. But over everything I did find a slight 'whiff' of magic, very unpleasant magic. The problem is that the 'smell' of this is very familiar - it's been the same for the past couple of weeks. A sense that 'something wicked this way came.'" "You think this could be cause of all the recent trouble, like in Fawnleaf and Coldshores?" He bit at his lower lip, then angled his head around to meet her eyes. "I think that's a safe assumption, but it doesn't really tell us much. Or give us a solution for dealing with it. I've put a protective spell on the caravan as best I can, but without something in particular to guard against, the spell becomes so general that it looses it's oomph." "Oomph?" She question with a teasing smile. He made a face at her, then suddenly relaxed. "Yeah, its 'oomph.' But it will have to do." "You've done the best you can, and we're doing all right. Krolgar says we should make Dreegan by nightfall without too much trouble, even at our present rate." Mulder reached around to pull her into his lap. She settled there happily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I hope so. I miss even the relative privacy of an inn." He managed a sly grin. She laughed, leaning forward to press her forehead to his. "Me too." - - - - - The first couple of candlemarks past the lunch break went smoothly enough that Mulder began to relax. Perhaps that protective spell had done it's job after all... << ROAR>> "What the hell was that?" Mulder desperately tried to rein in his startled horse. Shouts rang out throughout the caravan, mixed with a symphony of unearthly howls. Scully and Shannon had their swords out before Mulder even turned to look at them. He reached for his own, drawing it out of its scabbard just barely in time to bring it to bear between him and the animal as it launched itself in his direction. He caught only the bright orange gleam of its eyes, and a glimpse of long ivory fangs, before the impact of close to two hundred pounds of muscle and bone slammed into the flat of his blade. His horse whinnied in terror, leaping sideways, while Mulder twisted in his saddle, desperately trying to bring the sword around. The giant cat snarled as it hit the ground, deprived for the moment of its prey. Mulder couldn't take his eyes off it, even to search for Scully. He could feel her presence in the back of his mind, focused, clear, icy, as she threw herself into the battle with characteristic determination. His muscles burning, he knew that quick touch of her would have to be enough, for as the huge animal hunched its powerful shoulders in preparation for another assault, he had his hands full enough. He nearly lost the horse in the next attack, but he managed to score first blood. Even so, he tumbled to the ground, his terror stricken steed bolting down the road, blood dripping from claw marks in its side and belly. Mulder rolled a complete somersault, barely managing to keep from skewering himself on his own sword, but finally managed to come upright still intact. The cape swirled around his legs, and he considered trying to rid himself of the annoying garment. But the hungry cat didn't give him the chance. Snarling, it paced towards him, rising up on its mighty hindquarters to bat its massive front leg at him, the claws distended. Swiftly, he darted aside, swinging the sword around to stab it in the side. It howled in rage, turning its enormous head in his direction. Its eyes blazed at him, drawing back an inch in preparation for another attack. Mulder drew in a deep gulp of air, desperately oxygenating his muscles for the fight ahead. With a low growl it sprung at him, straight at the silver of his sword as he sliced it through the air. It struck hard on one of the distended fangs, striking enamel with a loud clank that reverberated up his arms and shoulders. He pulled back, the cat pressed in, and he found himself pressed back against one of the wagons. It tossed its head side-to-side before attacking again, giving him just enough time to lift the sword. It leapt towards him, he slid sideways, bringing the sword down towards its eyes. In the same instant, the point of his blade cut deeply into the animal's right eye and its claws raked across his left arm. Both screamed out in pain, Mulder falling backwards onto the ground, the cat rearing up, howling its agony at the sky. Gore dripped from its face as it hovered over him, the stench of its breath catching at his lungs. For one terrible moment, he thought he was dead, his eyes drawn helplessly to those foot-long fangs as they aimed for his chest. In that instant, his mind called out for Scully, sending a waterfall of emotion down their link, and as though in answer, a surge of energy flowed back through him, blue sparks shimmering on the bloody silver of his blade. With a desperate effort, he brought the sword up between them and struck out just before the cat could tear into his chest. He struck it hard just below the jaw, and the swirling Mage-power focused up through his arms, through the sword, and into the giant animal. It shook, convulsing, screaming, as though it had been struck by a massive bolt of lightning. Finally, it collapsed half on top of him, its huge head lolling across his chest. Mulder tensed, but it did not move, except for the slightest tremble. His sword was still embedded in its chest, and it took all of his remaining physical strength to yank it free. Sliding the weapon off to the side, he wriggled himself free of the massive body of the animal, staggering as he tried to get back to his feet, his eyes darting anxiously around to assess the situation. "Mulder!" Shannon cried out his name, and he turned and ran in her direction. She and Jhorgab were fending off another of the huge beasts, the tiny troll darting in and out, barely missing being swallowed practically whole by the snarling mouth. Shannon fought fiercely, wielding her sword as though it was an extension of her flesh. But they were still hard-pressed against the hungry, enraged beast, and Mulder didn't even bother recovering his abandoned sword. Drawing in a deep breath, he began a careful chant, drawing on the tattered remnants of his strength to cast the spell. Blue fire aced from his fingertips, striking the cat, and freezing it in place. Shannon stabbed it once more, then jerked backwards as the spell reached out for her. Jhorgab grabbed her and pulled her away, leaving her sword suspended in the air, the point barely touching the coat of the bespelled animal. "Are you all right?" Mulder managed to ask, though his skin had bleached pale. She nodded weakly, as Jhorgab helped her over to him. Even as he reached out to wrap his arms around the shaky girl, his mind was ranging outwards, seeking for his bondmate. He *knew* she was not badly injured or dead, because he'd have sensed that instantly. But he could tell she was outside the comfortable range of their lifebond - his stomach was already revolting at her absence, his head was beginning to ache. Emotion pooled within him, the frustration of her absence scratching at his nerves. Of course, some of the ill feeling was caused by the too-close-call he'd just been through, but he was far too familiar with the "distance-sickness" not to recognize the symptoms. //SCULLY!!\ he cried out along the length of their bond, and his entire body trembled with relief when she responded with a flood of emotion, mostly a mirror to his own relief, colored by sadness and grief. //Mulder,\\ she replied. // Krolgar and his two sons are all right, but Gyruth is badly injured. I'm going to have to stay with him.\\ Her mind voice was filled with sorrow and regret, colored by her own irritable response to their separation. He could feel her temper straining against her self-control, and he responded with silent understanding. //Where are you? I'll come to you.\\ Her relief and gratitude washed over him, followed by a curling edge of fear. //Is it over?\\ //I think so,\\ he replied, stretching out his mind, even as he used his eyes to survey the situation. There were a couple more dead cats, and three of four trolls laying mangled on the ground. He felt sorrow and rage swell within him, forcing the sky above to darken ominously. Closing his eyes, he brought himself back under control, then reached out silently, reassuringly, to Scully, even as he began to walk quickly towards her, barely restraining the desire to run heedlessly. //Yes, it's over...\\ For now, he added silently, keeping the thought to himself. - - - - - They limped into Dreegan that night, the weary travelers guiding exhausted horses, the wagons burdened as much with the wounded as with the wares for sale. The worst was the knowledge that they were now carrying three dead bodies as well. Gyruth had not survived despite Scully's best efforts, and two of the troll guards had gone down as well. They had dealt with death before, even with senseless deaths, but still, the suddenness of the attacks and the horror of the result had shaken all of the travelers to the core. When they reached the closest inn, Krolgar had hardly argued with the innkeeper, settling for a price that was almost certainly too high, yet unimportant to the weary trolls and their human companions. The chores of settling wares, wagons, and horses down for the night were done quickly, efficiently and silently. Little effort for conversation was spared over the welcome hot meal, and no one lingered in the busy dining room, all filtering up to their rooms as soon as their hunger was satisfied. The next morning was spent dealing with the wounded and the dead, arranging for the bodies to be placed in stasis until they could be returned to their families, and repairing damage to the wooden vehicles. Mulder did all that he could to help, finding his strength tasked less by the magic expenditures as by Scully's absence. She felt bound to offer whatever help and assistance she could to the village healer, suddenly overrun by the number of wounded trolls. They had not wanted to separate, and had felt the effects quickly. By noon, both were irritable, trembling with undirected edginess and nausea, heads aching, hands shaky. Gesturing to the human healer that she was leaving, unwilling to attempt even to speak for fear she would offend someone unnecessarily, Scully escaped into the bright sunshine and went in search of her bondmate. As disturbed as she, Mulder met her in the courtyard of the inn, simply opening up his arms for her to bury herself within. God, he felt *so good*, she thought breathlessly, her entire body coming alert as he enclosed her in his embrace. He smelled of horses, sweat and dirt, and yet, it was the most wonderful smell in the world. She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek, and she nuzzled in closer, treasuring the sensation of his woolen cloak abrading the skin of her face. All of the tension, the helpless anger and frustration, the weakness fled, leaving her bathed in a soothing warmth, both physical and mental. //I missed you,\\ he whispered into her mind. //I love you,\\ she returned, shifting slightly against his body so that she could close her arms around his shoulders. //We can't do this anymore,\\ she continued, tilting her head up so that she could look into his eyes. Those keen hazel orbs were filled with a sweet passion, reflecting her image back at her. //Not until we find Hannu and he can tell us what's happening.\\ //I know,\\ he answered wryly, leaning down to brush her forehead with his lips, the tender contact sending electric shivers across her scalp. //I nearly broke a few things this morning instead of fixing them. And I may not have done these people's opinion of Mages much good. I came within inches of singeing a couple of stableboys.\\ //Not good, Mulder.\\ She thought, even as she gazed at his mouth with hungry appreciation. //Yeah, I should apologize....\\ //Later,\\ she replied, digging her fingers into his hair to draw him to her for a long-awaited kiss. "Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully!" An insistent voice interrupted. They clung for a breath longer, praying the intruder would go away, but he did not. Instead, a small hand grabbed hold of Mulder's arm and tugged. "Mage Mulder, I am so terribly sorry to interrupt you at this moment, but my uncle wishes to see you right away. I would not have disturbed you, but he is quite insistent that you come now. He is in a terrible mood, I am afraid, and I am sorry to subject you to him. But do not worry, while he yells a lot - in fact he yells *quite* a lot - he would never really hurt anyone. He just likes to be loud..." "Jhorgab!!!" Mulder reluctantly released his hold on Scully, unobtrusively sliding his hand down to close upon hers. She squeezed his fingers, turning to lean the back of her head against his chest. Jhorgab blinked, then bobbed his head at them. "Ahhh, then, you are ready now to come, yes?" "Yes Jhorgab," Scully replied with amusement. "Lead on..." - - - Krolgar was indeed yelling when Jhorgab found him in the inn's busy main room. Mulder and Scully took the chairs Jhorgab offered, sitting down to wait while the elder troll finished castigating one of his assistants. While they were waiting, Shannon wandered over, her face flushed with exertion. Mulder got up and dragged over a chair for her, which she accepted gratefully. All three sat quietly, happy to have a few moments to relax. Finally Krolgar was finished, and he turned to glower at Jhorgab who was standing beside him, an anxious look on his flat, bushy-browed face. "What is it, youngling?" "You wanted to see Mage Mulder," Jhorgab announced. Krolgar growled, but nodded, settling his massive body down in a chair that creaked beneath his weight. "Ahhh, so I did." He grabbed a big tanker of ale and took a large gulp, then slammed it back down on the table, the contents sloshing dangerously. Ignoring the film of foam around his mouth, the troll merchant nodded seriously at the two humans. "Thank you for coming, Mage, Warrior. I am afraid that I must tell you that we will be staying on here for at least a week. We are short on supplies, and as you probably know, Mage Mulder, we will require some extensive repairs. Several of my people are seriously wounded, and I may need to hire replacements and additional guards. So we will need to do the rest of our trading here, and then we will be turning back. The times have become suddenly dangerous for merchants such as myself. Never in my life have I had such a difficult journey." He shook his head. "I do not know what the Realm is coming to!" "I'm sorry," Mulder offered exchanging a glance with Scully. "I'm sure King Andalor's doing everything he can to solve the problems. In the meantime, I hope we have managed to be of some help to you." "Oh you have. Indeed," Krolgar hurried to reassure him. "We could not have made it this far without your able assistance. But I am afraid that we will not be going any further south. I know you are headed towards Goodearth Caverns, but we will not be able to take you there ourselves." He frowned massively. "A shame, the gargoyles are quite profitable trading partners." Mulder and Scully exchanged glances, then Mulder nodded solemnly. "I understand completely, Krolgar. And while we'll miss your company greatly, we cannot afford to wait here much longer. We were hoping to head out at first light tomorrow." "We will miss you as well, Mage, lady warriors, you have been fine companions to us on our long journey. I hope the rest of your way will be far more peaceful than ours has been." "I hope you have an easier journey home, Krolgar," Scully responded with formal politeness. "Thank you dear lady," he replied, gazing at her fondly. For a human female, she was surprisingly both attractive and sensible. Of the three humans, he would definitely miss her the most. He smiled broadly at her. "And again, my gratitude for all you have done to help heal my people. It is much appreciated." "I wish there had been more I could do," she said sadly, thinking of the bright, good-humored troll healer who had died painfully in her arms. If only she had had access to better medical facilities. "You did all that could be done," Krolgar told her. "Do not sorrow over what you cannot change. Gyruth's soul is now a part of the universe, at one with the gods." Scully simply nodded, holding tight to Mulder's hand under the table. He was a comforting presence, unwavering love and support flowing down through the lifebond. She gave him a smile, then turned her attention back to Krolgar who had moved on to more practical manners. "You will need to resupply yourselves here, and you might want to seek out some guidance as to the best route to take. Since you will be a small party on horseback, you might be able to shorten the journey by using less-traveled roads." "That sounds like a good idea. Any assistance you can give us in choosing a route will be appreciated," Mulder replied. "I can help you!" Jhorgab cried out, his eyebrows twitching with enthusiasm. "Why, I've studied the roads and ways of the Realm in great detail. It was always my favorite subject. I can show you the best way to Goodearth caverns from here, and I can help you trade for the right supplies. I know I am young, but I could be of much assistance to you in your journey, Mage Mulder..." He was so excited that he was unable to continue speaking, bouncing up and down on his short stubby legs. "Jhorgab..." Krolgar began to admonish him, but Shannon jumped in to support her friend. "I think that's a wonderful idea!" She turned to Mulder and Scully. "Oh please, let Jhorg come with us! He'd be lots of help, and he does know the paths very well. He's told me lots of stuff about the southern parts of the Realm already. I'm sure he wouldn't be any trouble, and it would help us to have a guide." Scully sighed and turned to the still bobbing young troll. "I thought this was your first journey away from home." Never at a loss for words long, Jhorgab responded excitedly, "Yes, that is very true. But I have memorized all of the maps, and I have listened many times to stories from those of my family who have traveled far and wide. My brother has told me often of his first visit to Goodearth, and I can remember every word of it. I can tell you..." "Ahh, I'm sure you could," Mulder interrupted quickly. He glanced at Krolgar. "What do you think of this Krolgar? We may run into more danger along the way, and I would understand if you didn't want to risk your nephew's safety." Krolgar frowned mightily, his eyebrows forming one long bush across his brow. He looked narrowly at Jhorgab. "I realize, youngling, that you have long wished to travel, but Mage Mulder's concerns are worthy of consideration. The dangers we have met so far are not the only ones that these travelers may yet face. And you will not have my wisdom and experience to guide you." "I know, uncle," Jhorgab replied solemnly, though with a twinkle in his yellow eyes. "But I am sure that Mage Mulder and these two fine warriors can shield me from any danger. And I am not a nestling anymore. I am as grown as you were when you went of your first great journey. I will not embarrass our clan, uncle." He drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height, "I promise you I will do the name of our family proud." Krolgar looked steadily at him for a moment, then turned back to Mulder. "I do not have an objection if you wish Jhorgab to accompany you." Shannon threw Mulder a pleading look, and he couldn't help smiling. He turned to gaze sternly at Jhorgab. "I can't see any reason to object, but... Jhorgab, you must realize that we will be traveling as quickly as possibly, and conditions may not be as comfortable as you are used to with the caravan." "I understand..." Jhorgab replied, secretly exchanging triumphant glances with Shannon. None of the adults missed the exchange, but all kept silent. Scully sent her amusement privately to Mulder, along with her concerns. //Do you really think this is a good idea? We have a tendency to attract trouble, and while I'm sure that Shannon can handle herself, Jhorgab is awfully young and inexperienced.\\ //I think he might surprise you,\\ Mulder replied, adding in the images of the troll youngling assisting Shannon in fighting the giant panther. //And he does know his geography and his history well. Since we're strangers here, it certainly couldn't hurt to have a native along.\\ //That's true,\\ Scully admitted. She smiled, even as her mind-voice softened. //He will be good company...if we can ever get him to shut up!\\ Mulder's laughter echoed in her mind, even as she realized that true to his character, Jhorgab was already expositing at length. "All right, Jhorgab," she interrupted, her voice rich with amusement. "You can come with us. We'll have to see about additional supplies. You do have a horse of your own?" "Oh, yes! Greega is mine!" Jhorgab answered brightly, grinning broadly. "We have trained together since almost before I was old enough to walk." "Which explains why you walk so funny," Shannon teased. Jhorgab scowled at her. "Look who's talking, tree-leg!" "Tree-stump!" she retorted. "Weed-leg!" Jhorgab countered. Mulder groaned. End of Chapter Twelve THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Thirteen It was several candlemarks into their journey when Scully finally permitted herself the luxury of relaxing a little. Considering the disasters that had plagued their trip thus far, it wasn't surprising that she was nervous. Since they had set out from Dreegan, however, things had been going smoothly. She and Mulder rode side by side, enjoying the changing countryside and the warmer temperatures, while Shannon and Jhorgab kept up a steady chatter behind them. After a quick break for rest and food, they remounted and followed the trail as it began to climb over increasingly hilly terrain. The southernmost slopes of the Uriin Mountain range loomed ahead of them, the peaks still capped with snow. If all continued to go well, they would be in Goodearth Caverns by nightfall. - - - - - The Dark Queen replaced the sphere in its stand and turned her attention to the paunchy little man who strutted into her workroom. "Sit down, you revolting toad," she snarled. Stricken, Drellor squatted in the nearest seat. "But, my lady!" he protested. "What's wrong? I thought our partnership was getting along swimmingly!" "You have given me nothing useful, worm. Nothing useful at all. Why should I continue a 'partnership' with a partner who brings nothing to the table? The Mage and his entourage continue their journey." Her eyes sparked their usual fire, but her aura, if he could have seen it, today glowed dully. "Why not just call down a lightning bolt or something?" "You stupid, self-important little insect!" She clamped her lips shut before she could say more. She had no wish for him to know that her powers were not limitless. Sowing the seeds of hatred and bloodlust all across the Realm had temporarily sapped her energy. Although she had derived some comfort and refreshment from the resulting carnage, it would take several candlemarks before she was sufficiently rejuvenated to resume making Mage Mulder's journey a nightmare. Did this idiot think it was easy, turning thousands of placid, sheep-like beings into raving lunatics? But the less he knew of her limitations for now, the better. Later, it would not matter. "I have my reasons, rodent. Now, when are you going to tell me something useful? I'm growing impatient with your stalling." She smiled cruelly. "Believe this - you do not want to make me angry." "N-no, my lady. It is not my intention to make you angry. C-certainly not," Drellor stammered. "If you could perhaps tell me the kind of information you're looking for...?" She relaxed back in her chair, becoming almost languid. "The spells this Mage casts - tell me about them." Drellor's knowledge was painfully scant on the subject. He had avoided contact with Reinald whenever possible, and Mulder had usually been with the Royal Mage. But he knew he could put off his captor no longer. Therefore he fell back on the one skill he felt he had - lying. "Oh, my lady! Great powers he has! Not as great as yours, but great nonetheless." "Details, little man. I want details." "Yes. Well. He could turn swords into snakes with a blink of an eye. And he masters the elements - positively masters them. And I know he can construct Gates. He did so with Reinald many times. And...and he can enchant crowds of beings with just the sound of his voice, to do his will. And turn things into other things." She rolled her eyes and impatiently sighed, her lips set in a thin line. "Hold, my lady," he said desperately. "Let me tell you of the time Mage Mulder turned the prince from a stone statue to his living self...." "Too late, you have told me of that already. So, he can construct Gates. I'm not surprised." She leaned forward, so close to him now that he could see the flecks of blood-red in the black of her irises. Involuntarily, he recoiled. "What do you know of Mage Mulder and the Lost Powers?" Drellor looked puzzled. "Lost Powers, my lady? Lost Powers, did you say? I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage." "And you would be wise not to forget that. Never mind, you may go." Drellor scurried out of the room and started down the marble steps. A thought crossed her mind, closely followed by a yelp and the sound of a soft, fleshy body bouncing down cold, hard stairs and slamming into stone walls. She listened to his cries until he finally landed at the bottom of the long, winding staircase. She chuckled, her humor restored for the moment. The little swine was outliving his usefulness. But yet - his blood! His blood would serve her purposes in the end. The rodent had spoken the truth, though, when he said he knew nothing of Mulder's connection with the Lost Powers, of that she was sure. Yet just as certainly, she had seen the young Mage use one of them. It was a puzzle. If he had unlocked the secrets to these powers, why had he not used them on his journey when she had presented him with...impediments? Was it possible that he was unaware of these powers? Or that he could not direct them at will? She smiled. If so, her task would be easier than she could have hoped. - - - - - The last shafts of sunlight beamed between the mountain peaks as the horses carefully picked their way up the winding, rocky trail. They rode single file now, the width of the path permitting nothing more. //Scully, we're not alone.\\ She sat up straighter in the saddle and peered around. //I don't see anything.\\ //Off to your left, behind the rock that looks like Skinner's head.\\ Nonchalantly, she stared ahead, but her peripheral vision picked up the slight movement of what looked like two pairs of pointed ears, almost indistinguishable from the gray of the rock. //Trouble?\\ Mulder, riding ahead of her, shook his head. //I don't think so. I think they're kids.\\ A sudden burst of giggling sounded, and two tiny gargoyles tumbled into view. "Hello," Mulder called out in New Realm. "Can you tell me if we're near Goodearth Caverns?" The two children looked at each other, poking and prodding one another to speak. Finally, the smaller of the two piped up. "I can. Are you Mage Mulder?" //Your reputation precedes you, Mulder.\\ His bondmate smiled sunnily at him. He shot her a look, and turned once again to the youngsters. He nodded. "Do you know Tarnor? We're here to visit his family." "Um-hm. Tarnor's my taabsut. I'll show you how to get to town if I can ride on your horse." He grinned up at Mulder, displaying his spiky teeth. "Me too! I want a ride too!" His companion finally broke his long silence. "I think that can be arranged." Mulder reached down and helped the little one to scramble up onto the horse, and settled him between himself and the saddlehorn. "What's your name?" "Feki. Really Fekor, but my nickname is Feki. And that's my cousin Lorka." He indicated his companion, who was being pulled up to join Scully on her mount. "That way's faster." He pointed a dark gray finger at an offshoot of the main path. "Think we can get through there?" Mulder asked doubtfully. "Yeah, easy." Mulder kept up a running conversation with the youngster as they picked their way through the rocks, although he was having a hard time with the child's unusual accent. It turned out that Tarnor was his uncle, his father's oldest brother. Although the child hadn't even been born when Tarnor left Goodearth Caverns, the gargoyle Mage had made an indelible impression on Feki during his infrequent visits home. Apparently, in the gargoyle culture, extended families lived together in clusters of caves, so families were uncommonly close. Feki badly missed his uncle, and devoured all the news that Mulder had of him eagerly. They had ridden several minutes more when the path opened up and they came to a small plateau surrounded snugly by mountains. At last, the town of Goodearth Caverns lay before them. Where most of the structures they had seen in this world were made of either wood or baked mud bricks, these buildings were of rough stones, mortared together with a kind of cement. Cobblestones paved the center of town, and paths radiated like spokes of a wheel from the center toward the mountain slopes. By each was a colorful painted sign, presumably indicating the families who dwelled along the path. As they rode through town, doors flew open and gargoyles rushed to greet them with such enthusiasm and in such numbers that Scully, fearing an impending riot, instinctively felt for the reassuring presence of the sword at her side. "We found them!" cried Feki. The travelers slid off their horses to greet the gargoyle who pushed her way through the crowd. She wore a heavy necklace of large, bizarrely shaped metal beads, but rather than decorative, it seemed to connote some official meaning. "I am Mikora, elder of Goodearth Caverns. Please join me for tea." The four travelers followed Mikora into one of the squat stone buildings as their two little guides raced up a nearby path to alert the family that their visitors had finally arrived. "I would offer you food," the elder continued, "but I know that Afla has spent the entire day cooking and she would have my head if I spoiled your appetites. Please have a seat." Mulder sank gratefully onto the stone bench the elder indicated. His neck was beginning to hurt from having to bend it at an awkward angle to avoid hitting his head on the low beams. He had never felt so tall in his life. Only Scully and Jhorgab could stand at their full height in the small dwelling. He accepted a stoneware mug of remarkable craftsmanship and sipped down some scalding tea. Scully began to speak for the group. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mikora. This is the first time we've had much contact with your culture. I hope you will forgive us if we inadvertently do or say something you might find offensive. I assure you, it would be from ignorance and no desire to insult." The elder waved dismissively. "Our etiquette is not so inflexible in this part of the Realm. And I'm not surprised you haven't become intimately acquainted with our ways. We tend to keep to ourselves and mix less than the other beings. Only the very ambitious, very gifted, or very undesirable tend to break away from their clans and seek their fortunes in more diverse settings. We have nothing against other creatures, we just get our comfort from the familiar. I think you'll find our culture unique, but in no way forbidding." "Tarnor is certainly doing well at Fairwoods Castle," offered Mulder. "He's become the assistant to the Royal Mage. He saved our lives at least once, as well as that of the Royal Mage and indirectly, King Andalor. He's an extraordinary being." The elder grinned, showing her pointed teeth, and her ears twitched agreeably. "Tarnor is very special to us here. He was the first in our village to be gifted with the powers of a Mage. We gargoyles have our talents, but magic is very rarely one of them. If you're finished with your tea, I would like to take you on a short tour of our village, then walk you up to Afla's cave." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. They were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to settle for the night. But the little elder was obviously bursting with pride, and they didn't have the heart to offend her. "We'd love to," said Scully with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Afla showed them through the little town. Here, the economy seemed more advanced, less agrarian-based than the rest of the Realm. The largest building belonged to the mining company. The surrounding mountains were a rich source of metals and gemstones, and most gargoyles made their living in mining or processing these resources. There was also a cottage industry in pottery, the tableware from the region prized throughout the Realm. "Females head up most of the industry in town, and of course the town government. We gargoyles tend to be rather matriarchal, probably because our males have to spend so much time in the mines and are rarely around," she explained. Finally, she led them up a path marked by a sign that bore a picture of a red and yellow wheelbarrow. "This is Tarnor's family sign. It is one of the oldest in our village." And one of the most respected, unless Mulder missed his guess. Out of the deepening dusk, a matronly gargoyle approached them, her face wreathed in a fearsome smile. "Ah, Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully! I'd have known you anywhere, from what my Tarnor has told me!" She bustled over to Shannon and took her hand. "And this must be your halla - how lovely. How tall you are, my dear! Come right this way, I know you must be hungry and tired." They waved farewell to Mikora. Tarnor's mother kept up a steady stream of chatter that rivaled even Jhorgab as they followed her up the steep trail. "That's right, just through here, and around this bend - see, just follow the signs." - - - - - Jourdain wiped the sweat and spattered blood from his brow. How long could this carnage go on? He and his men had arrived in time to stop the worst of it, but as they now labored to identify the dead and tend to the wounded, he knew it had not been enough. Fifteen bodies lay stretched out in Waterrush's village square - six elves, four humans, and five trolls. Stories varied about what had really started the bloodletting, all the beings pointing the finger at another. But one thing was clear - what had started as a minor trading dispute had ended up as a deadly free-for-all. He gestured to Bashar, who left his grisly chore and came to his side. "Find the elders - those that still live - and bring them to me." He helped to shroud the dead while his lieutenant followed his orders. Three humans, all bleeding from superficial gashes, were led before him. Three of their fellow elders lay among the dead. Jourdain motioned them toward the elders' meeting hut, where they sat slumped at a round wooden table. "All right. Now what happened?" The tallest replied with a sneer, "Ask the elves, they started it." Impatiently, Jourdain demanded, "Started what? What, by the Dark Creatures, could have happened to cause such bloodshed? Have you all taken leave of your senses?" In a whiny voice, the fat man dripping blood from a cut lip said, "The elves were cheating, trying to pass off old vegetables as fresh." Jourdain could only stare at them. "You are telling me that fifteen beings lie slaughtered out there in your village square because the vegetables the elves were selling weren't fresh?" he asked in a deadly cold, deadly quiet voice. "Well, it's just so typical of them, isn't it?" fussed the third elder. "And then the trolls became angry over something - I know not what - and before we knew it, a battle had broken out." "A battle you were quick to become involved in, no doubt. Any excuse for a fight, eh?" Jourdain paused in an attempt to control his fury. Then he growled, "King Andalor has granted me unlimited power to put down this senseless fighting any way I see fit. I'm sick to death of seeing my men hurt to keep stupid rabble like yourselves from killing each other. Maybe the only way to put a stop to it is to have all the adult male beings of this cursed place put to the sword." Bashar whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at his captain. The three turned pale. "But it was the elves-" "But it was the trolls-" "I don't particularly care," declared Jourdain, arms flung wide. "You want to see blood spilled, fine. Let it be yours. Bashar! Round up all the adult male beings and bring them to the square." "Y-yes, sir." The startled lieutenant fled out of the hut. "B-but you can't!" stammered the fat elder. "Oh, really? Just watch me," the grizzled soldier said with a fierce grin. "At least, until your turn comes." "L-let's try to be sensible here," the tall elder said. "There's no need for this." "You missed your chance to be sensible." Jourdain drew his sword and gestured with the tip. "Out - join your murderous neighbors." The three stumbled out of the hut to stand shaking with the other males of the village, some hundred in all. Wives and children looked on in horrified silence or open sobs. He raised his sword in the air. "As you have pronounced the sentence of death on your fellow beings, so I pronounce the same sentence on you - " "WAIT! What will this prove, what will it accomplish?" argued the tall elder. "It will prevent my men and myself from ever having to come back to this place. From having to risk our lives because you beings cannot get along. From having to put up with your hatred and your stupidity. And maybe as an example to other villages like yours. Not one, but four good reasons to carry out the sentence of death on you beings." "Please, have mercy!" called out the fat elder. Jourdain smiled grimly. "Mercy like you showed the poor devils lying over there?" The third elder, trembling and close to tears, begged. "Please, we don't know what came over us. We have never behaved like this before, and if given our lives, never will again. On our oath to the Goddess." There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd. The captain looked thoughtful for several moments while the village held its collective breath. "No. I cannot repeal the sentence of death I have given you." When the outburst of cries of protest and pleas for forgiveness crested then finally fell silent, he continued. "I will, however, stay the carrying out of that sentence. You will all consider yourselves under a death sentence. That sentence will be carried out swiftly and without mercy should I hear of a single incident in this village in which one being raises his hand in anger against another being." There were now shouts, praising Jourdain, praising the Goddess, for their deliverance. "I meant what I said," Jourdain continued grimly. "A single incident will be enough to condemn you all. A squad of my troops will stay in Waterrush to keep me posted. You are advised to treat them cordially." The elders bowed low, thanking the captain for the lives of the villagers, and then dispersed to join their families and make the arrangements for the dead. "Ah, Jourdain, you indeed had me worried," Bashar confided. "I must learn not to play at cards with you, for you dissemble too well. You looked like you meant every word of it, that you really did mean to have them all executed immediately." Jourdain looked at his lieutenant, oddly shaken, like a man emerging from some hideous nightmare. "Until a few moments ago, I did." - - - - - They were all panting by the time they arrived at the cave mouth. Torches burned brightly outside, illuminating the painting of the wheelbarrow above the entrance. Wonderful aromas emerged from the opening, amidst the cacophony of many voices. The path into the cave descended sharply, the roof low enough in places to force Mulder to bend almost double in order to get through. Along the wall, recesses had been scooped out which held a phosphorescent substance that bathed the tunnel in an eerie orange glow, providing just barely enough light to see. "Now that opening there is where Trablok, Tarnor's cousin's family lives. And that one to the right is another cousin. His father's brothers are there, there, and that opening furthest to the left. And my sister's husband's family...." Between the close atmosphere in the cave and the complex relationships of Tarnor's family, Scully felt like her head was spinning. It was with relief that she heard Afla's voice finally say, "And here we are!" They entered a large room hewn from solid rock, filled with over fifty gargoyles. On every surface, on every stone ledge and bench, gargoyles were clustered together, giggling and whispering, and clearly fascinated with the new arrivals. "I hope you don't mind - some of the family wanted to join you for dinner," Afla explained, anxiously. Shannon's eyes were huge. "This is all family? Is there anyone in town you aren't related to?" the bewildered girl blurted out. Mulder cast a warning glance her way and shook his head imperceptibly. Obviously the concept of family was held sacred by the gargoyle culture. The meaning of the look was not lost on the girl. "I-I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. But I've never seen such a big family before." "Oh, that's all right, dearie. Yes, we do have big families. And this isn't all of it - we had to turn away everyone who wasn't at least a first cousin. How many brothers and sisters do you have?" "None. It was just me and my mom." It was Afla's turn to look startled, and rapidly she translated Shannon's words for the younger gargoyles who did not seem to understand her words. There was an intake of breath and a low hum of discussion throughout the room, heads shaking in pity. Gargoyles were having the same difficulty with Shannon's idea of family as she was having with theirs. "Well, no mind, dear. Before we eat, let me show you around and find you someplace to put your things." She led them through a tunnel off the main room to a veritable labyrinth of passageways and chambers, all lit by the same phosphorescent matter they had seen in the entrance tunnel. At the dull thud and Mulder's sudden cry of pain, she said, "Oops, watch your head there, Mage. Our ceilings are a bit on the low side. Ah, perhaps the light is not enough for you! There's not much we can do about that, I'm afraid. You see, hundreds of generations of living and working in caves has given us incredibly keen eyesight in the dark, but we are somewhat sensitive to bright light. Just stay close and I'll try to remember to tell you when to duck." She showed them chambers that were set up almost like dormitories, with straw pallets that evidently took the place of beds, laid out ten or more to a room. The walls were adorned with murals and what appeared to be graffiti. Mulder asked her what the symbols were. "Oh, that's the old gargoyle tongue, which is what most of us speak around here. The older ones know New Realm, because we teach it in the schools, but we use Garsintil most of the time." Mulder went close to the wall, touching the symbols, spending some time examining them. A little nagging sensation flickered in his mind. //What is it? Head bothering you from where you banged it?\\ He felt her mind in his, concerned. "No. My head's all right. It's these symbols, they look a little familiar, although I don't know why they should be. Never mind." If Afla thought his answering a question that had not be asked was unusual, she gave no sign. "If you are interested in our writing, perhaps you would like to see our library, adjacent to our school. Just down here." She led the way through a maze of connecting tunnels to a large room, lined floor to ceiling with shelves carved out of the rock walls. Concentric circles of stone benches filled the center of the room. "This is our school," she announced proudly. "This is the first time we've heard of organized education in the Realm," commented Mulder. "I'd assumed that all youngsters were taught what they needed to know by their parents." "Well, among the trolls, elves, and most human communities, you'd be correct. But gargoyles prize learning above all things," explained Afla. "We are pre-eminent among seers, scholars and philosophers in the Realm. In any case, you are not far off, because the parents do the teaching. Each of us has become a specialist of sorts, studying an area of particular interest until we are expert in the field, and then communicating that knowledge to the young - and often the older ones, as well. Schools are for everyone, not just the children. Some of us specialize in language - I handle linguistics, being fluent in both New and Old Realm - some in numbers, some in literature or other arts, and others in lifelearning." At her guests' questioning expressions, she said, "What they need to know to live - matters of work, of play, of homemaking and health." "Sounds like your educational system makes a lot more sense than ours," said Scully dryly. "Undoubtedly works a lot better, too." Afla smiled proudly, then pointed to an opening. "The library is just through there." Mulder wandered into the adjoining room, which was filled with books and scrolls in every Realm language, most beautifully illustrated. The room was spotlessly clean, and straw cushions were everywhere, inviting the reader to browse through the volumes in comfort. Scully noted what appeared to be a small shrine in one corner of the large chamber. A tiny statue was set on a rock ledge, surrounded by fresh flowers and small fruits. "I'm sorry, but may I ask - what is the significance of the statue?" Scully inquired. "Ah, yes. That is one of the old gods, Hortha. A sort of patron, if you will, of learning and scholarship. Also our family's patron." "Is it permitted...?" "Certainly. Just try not to touch the image." Scully examined the shrine more closely, then turned to her hostess. "Then you don't worship the Goddess?" "Some do. Most don't adhere to any particular theology. And others still hold true to the old gods, like we do. Now, let's find your rooms so you can relax before dinner." She led them back through the maze, the travelers completely lost by this time. They were shown to two small chambers decorated with murals and Garsintil symbols. It was clear that some of the family had been moved out to make room for the guests. In each room, several straw pallets had been moved together to create the larger beds the human travelers would require. "I hope we haven't put you out too much, Afla," said Scully doubtfully. "No, the younger ones were glad of an excuse to stay overnight with their cousins. Besides, it's an honor to have you. Now let me show you the washroom." She showed them to a small aperture, which shone with a steamy blue light. Mulder got down on his hands and knees and crawled through. "Hey Scully, get in here! Look at this!" She and Shannon both followed him. Once in, they stood and looked around in wonderment. The walls of the small, keyhole- shaped chamber were of crystal and gave off a dim azure glow. In the center of the chamber, a deep pool of water steamed, creating a sauna-like atmosphere. To the right of the opening, oaken buckets and stoneware bowls sat filled with more water, and soft towels were stacked on a wooden bench. Afla and finally Jhorgab scuttled through the opening, the little troll's lip curling in dismay at the heat, humidity, and possibly at the purpose of the room. Trolls did not take kindly to bathing. "Oh, wow!" exclaimed Shannon. "I'll be damned. Natural hot springs?" the Mage questioned. Afla nodded. "Our source of hot water, and heat in the winter. Use the water in the bowls - don't try to immerse yourselves or you'll be scalded. Refill the bowls and set them aside when you're finished. We'll have dinner as soon as you're ready." "And the...er, umm?" hesitated Jhorgab. She giggled. "Sorry - the necessarium is just around the corner, first opening on the left." With that, she bustled off to see about organizing dinner for sixty. First Shannon, then Jhorgab took their turns in the washroom and necessarium, then Mulder and Scully followed suit. They changed into dressier clothes, fearing that to do otherwise would be an insult to their hostess. Then they headed off in the general direction they thought was correct, and within an amazingly short time became completely lost. "It HAS to be this way, Scully," said Mulder, pointing at one of their several choices of tunnels. "Why does it HAVE to be that way? I think it's down there," she countered. "Um, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully - I think, perhaps, if I'm not mistaken -" "Pipe down, Jhorgab. But Scully, we came from there." "Um, I really think that -" "Can it, Jhorgab! Mulder, you can't seriously believe that at this point I have any credence whatsoever in your sense of direction, which has historically been horrible." "HEY!" The little troll's loud voice echoing off the cave walls stopped their argument cold. "THAT'S the right direction," he said, pointing down an entirely different tunnel. "Believe me, where food is concerned, I'm rarely wrong." They looked at each other. Then Mulder shrugged. "Lead the way, Jhorgab." The troll bustled down the tunnel as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Sure enough, they emerged into a large chamber where rough wooden tables and benches had been set up and laid with beautiful stoneware bowls, pitchers and platters. "Sorry we're late. We got lost," Mulder explained. A swell of laughter started up, becoming an avalanche once Afla had translated his words for the Garsintil speakers through her own giggles. "They don't mean to be rude," smiled Afla. "It's just that they think you're very strange. You see, gargoyles don't get lost, not underground, anyway. Apparently we have a built-in compass which other beings lack." "Trolls don't do too badly either," Jhorgab asserted. "At least in finding dinner." They all laughed and some of the younger family members started passing around the serving bowls and plates. The main course seemed to be a kind of casserole. The travelers waited until everyone had been served, unsure of the customs. Afla spoke some words in Garsintil, and then gestured for everyone to start. "SHIT!" Alarmed, Scully stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth and swung her head to see Mulder, purple faced and gulping from his water mug. "I've heard of five alarm chili, but this has to rate at least fifty!" he exclaimed in a strangled voice. Again, the assemblage began to laugh, pointing at the tears running down his cheeks. "It's delicious, but it needs a warning label." Something was lost in the translation, but Afla laughed merrily. "I suppose I should have warned you - we like our food spicy. It gets easier the more you eat." Mulder cast a doubtful look her way, but tried another spoonful. It did go down easier. After the first few painful bites, they got used to the fiery spice of the food, and began to converse with their tablemates while they ate. Mulder spoke with Afla in Old Realm, the woman glad to have a chance to use the ancient tongue. When they had eaten their fill, the long trip began to catch up with them, Jhorgab nearly falling asleep into his empty bowl. One of the little ones showed them back to their rooms and they were asleep as soon as they hit their straw pallets. - - - - - Andalor slumped back in his chair. The Realm was falling apart. There had been reports of serious fighting in sixteen villages, some between different beings, some revivals of old feuds between clans of the same species of being. Squads had been sent out to try to stop the bloodshed. Not for the first time, the king wondered how Mulder and his party were progressing. Something had to happen soon, or the Realm would topple into anarchy with loss of life worse than they had experienced in the War with the Dark Creatures. As horrible as that had been, at least their enemies had faces. The worst part of this - whatever was causing neighbor to slay neighbor - was an unknown, its motives as shrouded in mystery as its face. He turned his attention once again to the two Heads of House. Fighting had broken out between Maalfees and Dordinal, and three lay dead - one from each house and one of Andalor's guards who had tried to intervene. All the two nobles had been able to do was blame each other, dredging up old disagreements and real or imagined wrongs. Both sat before him, purple with anger. Reinald and Mandor of Ranfaus completed the group. "Lord Horvay, it matters not what happened two hundred and thirty season-cycles ago. That time has passed. I want to know what started this brawl in which one of my most promising guards was killed," Andalor demanded. "Ask the Dordinal slime who jumped my nephew as he was minding his own business -" "Lies! That scum of a nephew of yours was goading - yes, goading - my men into a fight," declared Marvick, outraged. "Enough! Guards, take these two out and hold them while I seek the counsel of my advisors." The guards led the two nobles out, quivering with rage and trading insults. "And keep them quiet! If they say a word, escort them to the dungeon where, with any luck, I will forget their whereabouts and they may rot." The mouths of both nobles snapped shut as they now transferred their anger to the king. They left with the guards, quietly fuming. "What say you, Lord Mandor? I trust your judgment." Reinald looked on as Mandor gave the king his opinion of what started the violence, and the atmosphere in and between the noble houses. Even his own house, normally the most well-behaved, had seen an increase in tensions and violence. "Reinald?" "Your Majesty, while stupidity and arrogance are nothing new to either Maalfees or Dordinal, we also know that the underlying tensions are being played upon by another unknown party. Although the situation cries out for justice, for the murdered guard if for no one else, that justice must be tempered in light of that circumstance." "I agree, Your Majesty," Mandor said. "The violence and bloodthirst becomes more widespread every day. Even if you had the brawlers executed, I doubt it would serve any purpose other than to focus their bloodlust against you. And if you fall, then truly there is no hope for the Realm." Andalor got up from the table and began to pace. "But I can't ignore this - I would be perceived as weak. And what sort of an example would ignoring it send?" He stopped, tapping his lip with a forefinger. "What if - what if we disarm the houses? That way they could do less damage." "And wouldn't be able to defend themselves if they suffered an attack by someone from the general public with a knife. We can't disarm everyone," countered Mandor. "Yes, there's that. All right - what do you think of confinement to chambers for all involved - and anyone caught defying the order would be imprisoned indefinitely. I have to do something," he explained. Mandor and Reinald were silent as they pondered the king's suggestion. "It could work - as a temporary measure only," said Mandor decisively. "Although I confess, I cannot think what the next step should be." "Very well, it is so ordered. And Lord Mandor - you do realize that if any members of your house succumb to the same bloodlust, a like fate awaits them." "I had assumed that to be so, Your Majesty. Now, if I have your leave, I'll see to telling Marvick and Horvay." "By all means. Our thanks go with you, Lord Mandor." He bowed deeply and left. Reinald sat at the table troubled. "What is it, Reinald? Do you feel I have erred?" asked Andalor, coming to sit beside the old Mage. "Eh? No. No, Andalor, you handled it well. No, it is another decision you must make which troubles me." The king sighed. "My betrothal." Reinald nodded. "It can't be put off any longer. Perhaps if news of your betrothal spreads, it will serve as a diversion to break this cycle of bloodshed." Andalor laughed bitterly. "So my choice of wife is to be a well-timed diversion." "A diversion that may well save the lives of some of your people." "I know. I know, Reinald. But the choice for a lifetime - to be made like this? I feel like a condemned man. I have as little say in my future as any poor wretch in the dungeon." "I wish it could be otherwise. I know you're becoming very fond of Shannon." "You have NO idea how fond I am of Shannon, Reinald!" he said angrily. "No idea at all. And it doesn't matter anyway, does it?" The king turned his now furious gaze on his old guardian. "I'm sorry." Seeing the dejection in the sag of the man's shoulders, Andalor knew he deeply regretted the position they were in. He sighed. "All right, I assume you have a list of eligible candidates. Who are they?" Reinald sat forward. "Althea of Dalvies. It is a minor house, to be sure, but the choice would have the benefit of not siding with one of the major houses and alienating the others. Of course, she's a bit older than you...." "Seventeen season-cycles older, to be precise. Twice my age. And it is said that she is as interesting as fog. No, I can't do it. Who's next?" "Cornella of Krensward. Another minor house. It is said that she's pretty," he added hopefully. "Reinald, gimme a break!" The Mage winced as he always did when Andalor lapsed into the slang learned in Mulder's world. "Cornella might be pretty but she's as dumb as a tree-stump. And completely self-centered. I can't live with someone who can talk only about what she's wearing or the latest gossip. Absolutely not. Who's left?" "Lady Livirnea of Ranfaus. Coincidentally, she's here at Fairwoods Keep, visiting her father." Andalor snorted. "Some coincidence. Am I to be allowed to see her, to speak to her? In private?" "Of course. I was hoping you would. As far as the privacy goes, you know that cannot be. But I think I have a solution you will find palatable." "Very well. If you would, please ask the Lady Livirnea to join me in the West Receiving Chamber in one candlemark." "Andalor - thank you." He looked as if he was about to say more, but thought better of it and left to find Mandor. The king sat alone, thinking, for most of that candlemark. - - - - - Matron Darfa opened the door and held it aside for the young girl. Andalor turned from his perusal of the bookcase to look at them both, and quickly stifled a chuckle. Yes, an appropriate chaperone had been chosen. The plump troll was known for her strictness to the rules of protocol. Fortunately for the young couple, she was also deaf as a post. They would be able to speak freely. He had purposely set the meeting so that it would not afford enough time for special primping or coaching. He was sure enough of that had been done already. Hopefully, it would also not allow enough time for gossip to spread, although he felt that might be overly optimistic. Livirnea was small, about Aldara's size, but there was a great sense of presence about her. Her thick ash blonde hair was done in a simple braid which hung down her back. She had porcelain skin, delicate features, and interesting light gray eyes which promised intelligence. Andalor had some aura-reading capability, and hers was the color of her eyes - the scholar-scientist's pale gray. Her dress was simple, a plain white sheath belted in silver, with just a touch of silver embroidery on the bodice. She curtsied deeply. "Your Majesty." Although not quite thirteen season-cycles in age, her voice had a pleasant, unexpectedly adult timbre to it. Andalor smiled. "Do you know why you have been summoned here?" "Yes, Your Majesty." Her gaze, like her answer, was direct. "Then I think, under the circumstances, you can call me Andalor, don't you? Please, come sit by me." She walked across the room gracefully, but remained standing until the king had taken his seat. Darfa's sharp eyes never left the couple. "We met once, long ago. Do you remember?" "Yes, Your...Andalor. I believe it was at a Spring Planting ceremony, six season-cycles ago." "Much has happened in that space of time. What have you been doing since then?" Her face lit up and her voice became enthusiastic for the first time. "Studying. Mostly the elements, and how they can be changed. Machines, and how they can be improved. And many foolish things as well, like sewing and weaving and singing. Oh!" She blushed prettily. "Perhaps I should not have been so bold." "No, I want you to be honest. I want to get to know the person you are." "My mother says my bluntness will be my undoing." "I find it refreshing. And admirable." She smiled and relaxed a little. "No one takes me seriously. My father tries, but he feels I'll outgrow this. But I have always found the elements fascinating. To mix two substances together to create a third, entirely different substance - it's so exciting!" "I know someone you should meet," he replied, thinking of the Professor. "Perhaps he would even agree to further your studies. He is from a distant land of many wonders, and is what they call a scientist. But his interests are like yours - the elements and machines and new creations." "I would be most interested to meet him. Do you really think there is any chance he might agree to teach me? My tutor has little new he can instruct. I think my parents were hoping that my studies would end when his knowledge was exhausted." "I can just about guarantee it." They were silent for a while, then Andalor said, "So you know what all this is about." "Yes. They want us to become betrothed." Solemnly he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "And what do you think about that?" "It is an incredible honor, King Andalor." He smiled wryly. "Very nice. Now what do you really think about it?" "If I may speak plainly?" He nodded his permission. "I know every girl in the Realm would be envious to be in my position. I know what an honor it is, and I'm truly grateful and appreciative." She faltered. "But...?" "But I really don't know. It's not that I don't want to marry you. I just don't particularly want to think about marrying anyone right now. I don't want my whole life planned out for me by my parents. I want to study as much as I can, and see where that leads me." He looked at her seriously. "You know we may have little choice in this matter. Even more than you, I am a prisoner of the Realm. Always making choices for its good, doing my duty...." He sighed. She nodded. "I know. My father speaks well of you, and my parents are very excited about all this. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to hurt you. But it's my life!" "I feel precisely the same way." He paused, then slowly continued. "You know, a lot can happen between now and the time we would be married. It would be at least two season-cycles, maybe three. Once the announcement is made and the betrothal ceremony over, we would both be left alone most of that time - just waiting. No more pushing and prodding and nagging." Her gray eyes smiled. "You mean, let them announce the betrothal, and then carry on as before? I could continue my studies? Yes, I'd like that." "I really don't think they'll let us fail to become betrothed. They'll work on us until we give in. This might be the best thing we can do to get a little peace. And maybe something will happen to let us both do what we want to do in the end." She nodded. "It's a good plan, Andalor." He leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes. "You need to know that we might have to go through with it - actually be married, I mean. But Livirnea, I promise you, no matter what the personal cost to myself, I would try to make you happy, and see that you continue with your studies for so long as you may want. I wouldn't..." Andalor reddened slightly, "I wouldn't...force myself ...on you, or anything." From the back of the room, Darfa peered at them suspiciously. "I understand. Thank you, Andalor, you have been more generous than I could have hoped. This isn't fair and it isn't perfect, for either of us. But if nothing else, I'm sure that today I have gained a friend for life, a good friend who understands me. I hope you know you have the same in me." Her eyes were warm. He clasped her hand and bent to kiss it gently. "We'd better go tell everyone the good news." - - - - - She found him easily through their bond, feeling stronger as she did so. Crawling through the small opening, she entered the crystal washroom. He sat naked near the boiling pool, perspiration streaming down his body. //Hi.\\ The quick smile that never failed to light up his face. //Good morning. I woke up achy, so I decided to take a steambath to see if it would help. I think it has.\\ //I hope it was worth the 'separation sickness'.\\ //It was to start with, but it was becoming a little uncomfortable. But now you're here, so... Oh! Sorry, I didn't think - did I wake you up with a nasty case of whatever the hell this is?\\ She walked around the pool to sit next to him. //Yeah, but it's gone now. Why were you sore?\\ He turned a comically tragic face to her. //I think I miss our bed. I'm getting almost accustomed to all the riding, but that straw mattress last night didn't work very well at all - I kept rolling off onto the floor.\\ She chuckled, and moved behind him, her hands going to his neck and shoulders. //Why didn't you just wake me? I could have taken care of this.\\ //Didn't have the heart - you looked so peaceful. Mmm, that's good.\\ She reached in as a healer, deadening the irritated nerves, unknotting the remaining muscle kinks, then resumed massaging his neck and back muscles. "Hey, if you two are finished playing around in there, Afla has breakfast ready," Shannon's disembodied voice called through the opening. "Be there in a minute!" //Well, time to go chow down on some jalapeno oatmeal or something.\\ Scully laughed. "It could be worse, Mulder. At least they're cooking for us. You remember Tarnor's preference for raw meat." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "You have a point. Go see if the coast is clear to our room. I'm not exactly dressed for the public here." She rose quickly - too quickly considering the heat in the room, and lost her balance as a wave of dizziness washed over her. With a sharp cry, she fell toward the boiling, spring-fed pool. Suddenly, she was floating, suspended over the pool in a cloud of blue light. Mulder reached out to take her hand, and tugged her back over the rocky floor of the crystal chamber. The cloud gradually vanished as she felt her feet making contact with the ground. "Careful - you wouldn't want to scald that beautiful complexion." His eyes belied the joking tone of his words, showing his fear. "No, I wouldn't want to do that." Her lips brushed his and, hand-in-hand, they walked to the opening to get ready for breakfast. After a relatively bland meal of spiced fruit, bread with pepper jam, and cheese, Afla took them back out of the cave and down to the village. Dawn was just breaking and the mountains were shrouded in mist. Mikora had their horses and fresh supplies waiting. Hugs and thanks were exchanged, and the travelers set out once again on their quest. End of Chapter Thirteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Fourteen As they descended from the mountains the air got progressively more sultry, enough to be uncomfortable. Mulder had stripped off his heavy Mage-cloak candlemarks before. Scully, Shannon and Jhorgab were also down to their loose white shirts. Finally they caught a zephyr carrying the scent of ocean. "Mulder, can we picnic on the beach? Please?" called out Shannon from behind. "Picnic" did not translate in New Realm, and Jhorgab leaned across to poke at her. "This 'picnic' - does this mean food, by any chance? Because I'm going to fall out of my saddle if we don't stop to eat something soon. Is there food in the offing, Mage Mulder?" he called. "I'm seriously famished, I really am." Mulder surveyed the sun high in the sky. "I guess it is about that time. All right, a picnic on the beach it is. Assuming there is a beach, that is." Moments later the ocean was in sight, a beautiful deep blue punctuated by areas of emerald. Shannon and Jhorgab raced ahead and were off their mounts and cavorting by the shore by the time Mulder and Scully rode up. That the beach was more shale than sand did not seem to make a difference. It verged on a grassy area, where the adults unsaddled the horses and tethered them to graze at leisure. The younger members of the party were detailed to find driftwood for a fire while Mulder and Scully rooted through their supplies to find the makings for lunch. "The Realm could really use some fast food places," Shannon commented when she returned, arms full of driftwood. "This is going to take forever, and if I have to listen to Jhorgab whine about being hungry for one more minute...." "Maybe I can do something about that," smiled the Mage. A little concentration, a few words, and the fire was roaring. "You're going to be in big demand at barbecues," Shannon said goodnaturedly. "But I'd still like a Big Mac and an order of -" "Big Mac? Who is Big Mac?" demanded Jhorgab. "Not who - what." By the time she was through explaining, the little troll was salivating all over his chin. "How soon will there be FOOD? Shannon, that was very unkind to tell me about Big Mac. I'm dying of hunger!" She laughed. "Well, you asked." "In the future," he said archly, "tell me AFTER I've eaten." "Coming right up, Jhorgab." Scully handed him a plate heaped with sizzling meat strips, a large wedge of cheese, some black bread, and fruit. "That should help." Realm etiquette notwithstanding, the hungry troll squatted where he stood and tucked into his lunch. She served Shannon, then carried her plate and Mulder's to where he was standing, in an area partially shaded by large rocks. They made themselves comfortable and ate. Then they laid back in each other's arms, propped up by a large boulder, sleepily drinking in the lulling swell of the ocean, listening to the waves crash and hiss upon the shore. Eventually Shannon and her constant companion found them. "Hey Mulder, we've finished - and washed our plates. Can we go beachcombing?" "Beachcomb? Is this more food?" Jhorgab inquired eagerly. "In your case," Mulder said dryly, "probably. Yeah, okay, but stay within sight, don't be gone long, and no swimming for an hour - you've just eaten." Shannon grimaced. "That's just an old wives' tale. But okay, the water's freezing anyway. Bye!" She began to race up the beach on her long coltish legs, the little troll hard-pressed not to lose sight of her as he hurried after. "Mulder, I'm going to fall asleep if I stay here," Scully murmured comfortably. "There's something wrong with that?" "Yeah, I have to move, work out some of the stiffness from riding." //Besides, I don't trust myself with you. There's something about the sea air and the way you look right now, in that very attractive open shirt....\\ //There's something wrong with that?\\ he repeated, eyes twinkling. "They won't be gone that long, unfortunately. Besides, I think Shannon's already convinced we're sex maniacs. Come on, Mulder, a walk will be good for you. Let's go look for shells." She stood and held out a hand, hauling him to his feet. "Okay," he grumbled. "I liked your first idea better, though." They followed the others' path, but slowly, inspecting the shoreline for the familiar and the unfamiliar. "Hey!" A voice called from the distance. "Come and see what we found!" They trotted up the beach toward where Shannon and Jhorgab stood, next to a huge dark shape. As they got closer, the shape coalesced into the carcass of some gigantic sea creature. Mulder strode around the animal's body, some forty paces. It had roughly the shape of a walrus or manatee, but was covered in iridescent scales that shone like precious gems. The head was huge, with a great gaping maw. Its lips were peeled back in death to reveal triple rows of needle-like teeth as long as a man's handspan. The dorsal fin, easily five meters long, stood up like spikes, with barbs at the end of each. "Don't touch it," warned Scully. "At worst it might be poisonous, at best, horribly unsanitary." Indeed, the stench of rot was almost overwhelming. "Do you know what it is, Jhorgab?" "Well, now that you ask, I cannot be certain, but it does bear an interesting resemblance to a creature I once heard described. I was in...let me see, was it Port Abrea, perhaps?...well, I forget now exactly where I was, but there were some fellow traders there and they were telling a story about some people they had recently done some business with, sailors they were. The sailors said - now, I think I have this right - the sailors said that they had found that something was entangled in their nets one night, but of course, since it was dark, they decided to wait until the morning to investigate, and -" "Jhorgab, what's it called?" "I was getting to that, Warrior-Healer Scully. Humans are so impatient." "And so are trolls, when it comes to food. Get on with it." "It's called a sea devil. An appropriate name, if I do say so myself. I saw only a tooth that the traders bought from one of the sailors, but it looked quite similar to those." He shuddered a bit. "It has been said that sea devils hunt in packs, and can overturn boats and consume whole crews. And you're right - the tips of the dorsal spines are deadly poisonous." "Now aren't you glad I told you not to go swimming?" Mulder kidded Shannon. "You would have made a tasty morsel." She wrinkled her nose at him, and started walking back down the beach to where their horses stood tethered. Jhorgab rushed to catch up. "Shannon, you must explain to me this fascination you seem to have with the whole idea of swimming. If the Goddess meant for us to immerse ourselves in water, she would have made us sea creatures and given us fins. I really do not see why..." Mercifully, his voice faded as the pair trudged across the rocky beach. The Mage and healer followed, arm in arm. "Now, see, Mulder, you had a nice walk and even got to see a sea monster. What more can you ask for?" "I could tell you, but we don't have the time to act on it, anyway." - - - - - They rode all afternoon, the climate increasingly tropical as they neared the Greenswan Delta. The ground became boggy in places, slowing the pace of the journey as they were forced to circumnavigate the swampy areas. The vegetation had changed from the grass of the plains to strange mosses and plants they had never encountered before. At one point, Scully jumped down off her horse to collect some fruit that looked and tasted a lot like cranberries, and several handfuls of a watercress-like green. "I saw this in one of Corvay's formularies - it tastes good and also has medicinal properties. Who knows - it might come in handy." When they came to the first estuary, Jhorgab guided them north along its banks. Later, the sun low in the sky, Mulder spotted the cleft rock and two tall evergreens that Tarnor told him marked the fording pace. The little band dismounted and looked at the Greenswan River in dismay. "Something's wrong. This can't be the right place," exclaimed Mulder. "Oh, no, Mage. I assure you, the maps were quite clear. This is surely the right place," replied Jhorgab. "But I am at a loss to explain the condition of the river. Many of my family and clan have made this crossing, and never have I heard it described as anything more than a gentle stream." The Greenswan had overflowed its banks and now swept by them, turbulent and muddy. He looked nervously at the magician. If he suspected that he had led him astray, guided him to the wrong place - well, everyone had heard tales of what happened when the wrath of a Mage was incurred. "I swear, Mage Mulder, never has this part of the river been known to behave like this." "That's okay, Jhorgab. Is there a place we can cross, further up?" "I'm afraid not. I know of only as far as the southernmost part of the Greenswan Forest, but there's no crossing place between here and there, of that I am most certain." Mulder nodded grimly. "It appears that we have a decision to make then. Thanks, Jhorgab." The little troll nodded and rejoined Shannon by the horses. //What do you think?\\ Her presence was cool, confident in his mind. //You heard him - this is the only place we can cross. I don't like it. The current's much faster than it should be down here. According to Tarnor, it should be little more than a quiet stream at this point.\\ //Do you think our mysterious friend is at work again?\\ //I wouldn't be a bit surprised. I can smell the stink of it - black magic - in the air. I think the only thing I can do is try to levitate each of us across in turn.\\ //Well, it beats trying to ride. Okay, send me first.\\ //Like hell you'll go first!\\ "Mulder, for once, THINK!" Looking around guiltily to Shannon and Jhorgab, she saw that her sudden outburst had startled them. Scully turned back to her bondmate. //So it's not a perfect solution, Mulder! Who do YOU suggest we send across first? Jhorgab? Shannon? We don't know what's on the other side. They wouldn't stand a chance if a wild animal came out of those woods and attacked them. And what if something happens to the spell? I know Jhorgab can't swim, and I don't know how strong a swimmer Shannon is.\\ Seeing the mulish expression on his face, feeling him shield his thoughts from her, but knowing what he was thinking anyway, she continued. //And you can just forget it! You can't go first. You need to stand by ready to bail me out if I get into trouble. If you go and something happens, I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. Besides which, I don't think an animal leaping on you from behind would do much for your powers of concentration.\\ His eyes flashed and his hands were balled into fists. //What do you think separating is going to do to you? You know we can barely get a few feet apart without getting dizzy and nauseated. What's that going to do to you, alone on the opposite bank?\\ Her angry expression softened as she felt his fear for her radiating through the bond. //I'll be careful. Once I get across, you three follow. With a little luck, we'll only be separated for a few minutes.\\ She reached up and twined her arms around his neck. //I have to go first, Mulder. You know I do. Don't make it harder for both of us.\\ His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss, then he reluctantly pulled away and nodded, a small, worried half-smile twisting his face. //I know. But I don't have to like it.\\ She squeezed his hand, and stood by the edge of the river. "Shannon and Jhorgab, get back and out of the way. Okay, Scully. But please - be careful." He stood on the bank and carefully grounded. Nothing would go wrong, he told himself. Nothing COULD go wrong. He closed his eyes and visualized the words to the simple spell, his lips moving as he read them in his mind. His aura flared, and Scully felt herself slowly rising, floating out over the turbulent river. Suddenly, the words before his eyes blurred, to be replaced by surrealistic, nightmarish flashes - images of putrescence and bloody death and tragic loss. His concentration wavered for only a split second, but it was enough. Scully plummeted into the boiling, seething river. "SCULLY!" Mulder mounted and tore off down the riverbank, desperately trying to keep the bobbing head in sight. Somehow he managed to get a little ahead of the helpless figure. He reined his horse in and was off the animal in the same movement. Taking a split second to concentrate and ground, he stretched out his arms. Blue light surged around him and sparks danced from his fingertips. Scully's body flew out of the water and floated toward him. Gently, he caught her and lowered her to the riverbank. She was coughing, retching up river water. "Dana, are you all right?" He bent down, holding her head, brushing back the dripping hair from her face. //God, Dana, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.\\ He held her and crooned the mantra over and over, rocking her in his arms. She felt his horror and guilt wash over her, unbearable, overwhelming. //It's okay. I'm all right.\\ She sent wave after wave of reassurance, until she finally felt him becoming calmer. He scanned her face anxiously. "I-I don't know what happened. I had you, there was no problem, when suddenly my head was filled with the most disgusting, loathsome images. I was startled, and I lost my focus for just an instant, and -" "Mulder, it's okay. It doesn't matter. It wasn't your fault." He was silent for several moments and then his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Actually, as uncharacteristic as it may be, I agree with you." He quickly sobered. "Those images didn't come from me - they were imposed upon me by someone else. It was horrible, Scully, like someone was raping my mind." "Black magic?" He nodded. "Someone's not happy with our plans to cross the river." He bent and lifted her in his arms, setting her on his horse, and walked them back to where Jhorgab and Shannon anxiously waited. Then he helped his bondmate down, catching her when her legs proved too shaky for support. //All right?\\ His look was concerned, but at her nod he reluctantly let her go. She was shaking with cold and shock, but as they were both aware, it could have been so much worse. "What are we going to do now?" asked Shannon. Scully squared her shoulders and spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. "I'll give it another try. Mulder knows what to expect now, and -" "We will NOT give it another try." Mulder's voice cut across Scully's. "That's not the natural smell of the river, Scully. The dark forces are still at work here, and the stink of them is everywhere." They sat dejectedly on the muddy ground. "But why, Mulder? Do you think someone is trying to prevent us from reaching Hannu?" He nodded. "Right now it's the best evidence we have that he exists - the fact that it is very important to someone that we never find him." "And to find him, we have to get across the river." "I know - and it's starting to get dark." He scanned the river, but saw no letup in the flow of the current. If anything, more of the bank had been eroded and the river's level had risen slightly. They thought furiously. Suddenly Scully's face lit up. "Mulder - the miniature Oracle crystals! Do you think you could contact Reinald, and somehow between the two of you, cook up something that will get us across in one piece?" His quick smile warmed her. "It's worth a shot. Shan- Oh, thanks." The girl set the small pouch of crystals in his hand. Mulder drew one of the crystals from the pouch. The others withdrew slightly to allow him to concentrate. Clouds swirled before his eyes, gradually forming the face of the old Mage. "Reinald - we're in a bit of a jam here." "I had assumed as much. Where are you?" "We're trying to cross the Greenswan River. We almost lost Scully on the first attempt. I think our mysterious Black Mage is at work here, and it's not the first time on this trip." The Royal Mage frowned. "I don't like the sound of that at all. All right, how wide is the river there?" "About, oh, fifty paces or so. And it's deep, some of the bank has been washed away. Do you have anything in your bag of tricks we could use? I tried levitating Scully across, and I was hit by a wave of the most horrible, vile..." "That's all right, my boy. I can well imagine. No, you'd better not try that again." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Theoretically, we could apply the same principles we use in constructing Gates to build a kind of bridge. It would certainly be the fastest way to get you all across." "Theoretically?" "Well, I don't know that it's ever been done before. But at least I would be here if you needed me." "Not a great time for an experiment, Reinald," Mulder said dryly, surveying the rampaging river. "But I don't see any other way. Tell me what to do." The two began to converse in Old Realm, seeking the right words, the right gestures, the right strength of power to construct the bridge. Finally they switched back to New Realm. "You'll be doing most of it yourself, Mulder. There's no choice. You're the one who's there, who has the better idea of what's necessary. I'll stand by and maintain the connection in case you need help." "Thanks, Reinald. Hold on." He turned to the others and quickly explained what he was going to do. "You're going to need to move fast and keep the animals under control. Scully, stay next to me. I can't afford to get dizzy or lose my concentration." "Is this as dangerous as building a Gate?" she asked, the concern growing in her eyes. "I don't think so. But it's going to be a little tricky, if only because it's never been done before." He smiled crookedly at her, trying vainly to coax a smile in return. He sobered and caressed her cheek, sending a quick flash of reassurance her way. "Okay, ready?" He looked around, noting that Shannon and Jhorgab had tied their tunics over the horses' faces to blind them to the sparks that would soon be flying. Nodding his approval, he snaked an arm around Scully's shoulder, gathering her as close to himself as possible. Then he readied himself. He frowned in concentration as his aura flared. Coils of blue-white light coursed down his arms to emerge as sparks, leaping and dancing from his fingertips. Thunder rolled in the heavens. Suddenly, a wide shaft of crackling light shot into the air in front of him, spectacular and brilliant against the night sky. Carefully, he bent it to his will, arching it gently over the river and sinking the end deep into the riverbank on the opposite side. "Okay, let's go!" yelled Scully over the noise. Shannon and Jhorgab led the nervous, plunging horses onto the bridge and began to cross, the bondmates following close behind. Scully could feel her hair standing on end, charged by the power surrounding them. They had reached the dead center of the bridge when she felt his concentration falter. The bridge under her feet grew less firm, almost muddy, as her feet began to sink beneath the blue-white light. //Mulder!\\ He struggled desperately to keep the spell under control. Shuddering with the effort, he forced his mind to ignore the bizarre and nightmarish images that were flooding into it. Suddenly, he felt Scully and Reinald in his mind, supporting him, supporting the spell, helping him to focus his energy. The bridge solidified once more and the travelers hurried over it to the safety of the eastern riverbank. Then the span disappeared as Mulder fell to his knees, exhausted and drained. Scully huddled over him protectively, feeling the trembling in his limbs. "I'm all right," he gasped. "I'm all right." She grabbed the crystal from his hand. "Reinald!" she growled, as the Mage coalesced into view. "What the hell happened?" "It was close, my dear. Very close. There was interference with the spell again. Someone was trying to break into it, to disrupt it. Mulder had to do some very fancy footwork to keep it together." "He's shaking like a leaf and can't even stand. What's it done to him?" "Are you all right?" "I've been better. But what about Mulder?" "He just needs rest, as do you. The effects will pass." Scully surveyed the dark forest. "Well, we have to make camp for the night at this point, anyway. But I want to get away from the river, just in case." "A wise plan, Warrior Healer. As you get closer to your goal, I think you can expect more problems. Take care." "We will, Reinald. Thank you for your help." The clouds swirled again and the Royal Mage was gone. She bent over Mulder. //Do you think you could ride for a little while? We need to find a place away from the river where we can camp for the night.\\ He nodded weakly and she helped him to his feet. Still clutching her, he took some deep breaths, then let go and swung up into his saddle. The others remounted and fell in behind. Then the weary travelers slowly moved along the path through the dark, silent woods in search of a place to rest for the night. - - - - - It had gone on for candlemarks. Thunder rumbled outside and a fierce wind tore at the vines covering the windows. Lightning illuminated the dark room in surrealistic flashes as her anger coiled with the elements themselves. Below, servants trembled and ran for the furthest reaches of the castle to huddle in terror. She yanked so hard on the bell pull that it tore from its attachment and came off in her hand. Screaming in frustration, she flung it into the hearth, where it caught with a sick, weak flame. Finally, exhausted, she sank down into the chair and massaged her temples. When the shaking servant presented himself, she whispered, "Bring him here now" in a tone that turned his blood to ice. "Y-yes, Your Majesty." He fled to do her bidding. She closed her eyes but her memory taunted her. What was his secret? Was the damnable Blue Mage indestructible? His way with a spell might have brought her admiration, were they not implacably aligned as enemies. Today she had thrown everything at him she could, at least from this distance, and all for naught. Throughout their journey, the travelers had been unaffected by her work, that which had brought so much satisfying carnage to so many places. She had even - almost - converted their friend, the soldier, to satisfying her need for blood and hatred. And then he had reneged at the last moment. But the travelers - the Blue Mage and his company - continued their quest, hardly slowed by the challenges she had presented them. Challenges that could not have failed to be successful in others. Should have been successful with them. She sprang from her chair in frustration. Why didn't it work? By now they should have been corpses, cast up bloated on the riverbank. Certainly the interference of that old busybody hadn't helped. She was beginning to see what Drellor disliked about Reinald. But still - what was she doing wrong? She needed to know more. Somewhere, the Blue Mage had a weakness, perhaps many. It was just a matter of finding out what they were. The little fool was going to provide that knowledge tonight, to his everlasting sorrow. Somewhere there had to be something useful in the tiny brain of that corpulent rodent. He crept into her workroom, trembling from head to toe, and opened his mouth to speak. "DON'T say anything. Nothing. Not a word." Mutely, he nodded. She added the powdery contents of a skin bag to a goblet of lizard's blood, and raising it to her lips, drained it. Running her tongue over bloodstained teeth and lips, she motioned for him to stand in the center of the room. Much as he wanted to avoid angering her further, Drellor could not get his limbs to obey him. He was too stunned by this sudden reversal in his fortunes. He had a bargain with her! Well, a bargain of sorts, and he had held up his end of it, telling her everything he knew about Mage Mulder. How did he deserve this kind of treatment? He bit off a strangled cry as a force seized him and shoved him into the middle of the chamber. She smiled, the coldest, most evil smile he had ever seen. "I told you that I needed information. If you had cooperated, we would be launching our plan right now. Instead, I'm no better off than before you came." Drellor's voice worked no better than his limbs. He opened his mouth, but only a garbled squawk emerged. "No matter. It is just possible that you are in possession of something helpful without being aware of it. We are about to find out." She closed her eyes, her lips moving to words only she knew, the potion coursing through her body, catalyzing the spell. Drellor's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor, insensible. For some time they were motionless, the dark lady and the fool. Then with a gasp, she opened her eyes and breathed deeply. Drellor lay twitching on the cold stone floor. Again she smiled. Her instincts had been correct. The worm did know more than he realized - something overheard that he had stupidly thought was unimportant. And now she just might have the key to the Blue Mage's destruction. - - - - - She was in his mind, gently awakening him. He sat up with a start, momentarily confused. //It's all right. We've stopped for the night. You've been asleep for a few hours now. I've made some soup if you're interested.\\ //Very interested. I'm starved.\\ She handed him a bowl brimming with a thick savory soup, and a chunk of black bread. She took her own serving and sat close beside him. "Mmm, this is great. Were you the cook tonight?" "Well, I had to stick close to you, so it sort of precluded my searching for firewood or checking out the area," she said dryly. "So that left cooking. How are you feeling now?" "Great. I just don't remember getting here. The last thing I remember is getting on my horse at the river." "Yeah, you were pretty much out of it by the time we found this place. You literally fell out of your saddle. We had to drag you off the path." He looked around. To their backs was a high wall of solid rock which curved in an arc around them. They faced out onto deep forest, the trail twenty paces to their right. "Well, I picked a very strategic spot to fall off my horse, anyway. Where are the kids?" She pointed a short distance to their left. "Sleeping. They were exhausted." "You look pretty exhausted yourself. And -" His brow knit in concern, as he touched her through their bond. "Something else. Fever?" "Yeah. A souvenir of my impromptu dip in the Greenswan." Now he noticed the unhealthy glitter in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. "Don't worry. I drank some tea made from those greens I picked today. It should help." "Have you eaten all you want?" Wrinkling her nose, she nodded. He took the nearly untouched soup from her and set it aside. "All right. Get some sleep." "Mulder - we have to keep watch, just in case." "I know. I won't need any more sleep for a while. I'll keep an eye on things. If I get tired, I'll wake Shannon or Jhorgab." She protested weakly, but in the end allowed him to spread his warm, thick Mage-cloak on the ground and she lay down on it gratefully. He lay beside her for a while, holding her in his arms until her soft even breathing told him she was asleep. He gently extricated himself and standing, put some more logs on the fire. Then he sat propped against the wall, the stone still warm from the sun, listening to the quiet night sounds of the forest and the snap of the campfire. Well, a little of this goes a long way, he thought. Where's a good video when you need one? He pulled over his saddlebags and extracted the scroll Reinald had given him. He hadn't had the time to work on deciphering it for several days. Its mysteries intrigued him, and if nothing else, it would help him to pass the time. Mulder had no more than scanned the first few lines of symbols when he gasped. Excited, he brought the scroll closer to the fire, to assure himself that he was not imagining things. Damn, I wish Afla were here, he thought. For now he realized what had looked so frustratingly familiar on the gargoyle walls. The symbols on the scroll were close - very close - to those he had seen in Afla's cave. They were a little more intricate on the scroll, but still for the most part recognizable. Now all I have to do is find someone fluent in the old gargoyle tongue, Mulder thought, and we should be able to - Without warning the fire flared, the flames doubling in size. Mulder shrank back, heart pounding. A sudden violent gust of wind tore the scroll from his hand and carried it to the heart of the inferno. With a loud popping sound, sparks shot from the fire, covering Scully in burning embers. Fighting the panic caused by the fire, Mulder dropped to his knees and frantically wrapped her in his cloak, smothering the dozen or so places where her clothing had started to smolder. She began to struggle beneath his hands. //Wh-what...?\\ "It's okay," he panted. "The fire just flared and some sparks got on you. Are you all right? Burned anyplace?" "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Taking one look at his pale visage, she knew that he had been shaken. "How did it happen?" "I don't know. I was reading the scroll- Oh God, the scroll!" He looked around and found a long stick. Desperately he poked and prodded in the fire, trying to find the ancient document. "I was trying to decipher Reinald's scroll," he explained as he searched. "Remember when I said that the gargoyle symbols reminded me of something? Virtually the same symbols appear on the scroll. But now it may...Yes!" He deftly jerked the stick, and the furled scroll slid onto the end. Carefully, he removed it from the fire. "Mulder, it didn't burn! How is that possible?" "Reinald did a little spell casting before we left. I'll have to congratulate him on its effectiveness. See Scully - this symbol here - and here? They are almost identical to symbols we saw on the walls of Afla's cave." She looked at the document doubtfully. "I'll have to take your word for that, Mulder. Not being blessed with a photographic memory, I really can't say that I recognize them. What do you think they mean?" "I don't know. We need to find someone who speaks the old gargoyle language. But Reinald was convinced that this scroll was very significant, possibly even containing the instructions for casting some spells that have been lost for eons - those Lost Powers we were talking about before we left." His face clouded. "In which case the fire may not have been an accident. The timing was just too perfect." Scully cast a glance over to the recumbent forms of Jhorgab and Shannon to make sure they were asleep. Then she turned to him, her brow furrowed with worry. "Mulder, someone knows a lot more about us and what we're doing than I'm comfortable with. Every step of the way, we've had problems. And now they're more and more specific to US. Washed out roads and animal or brigand attacks could happen to anyone. They could be explained as coincidence or just plain bad luck. But someone would have to know exactly who and what you are to cause the problems we've been having today. They would have to know about our mission and the reasons for it, and want to stop it, using any and all power at their disposal. And that just scares the hell out of me." He nodded slowly. "They have an advantage we don't have - they apparently know all about us and we know nothing about them." She shivered a little, and he gathered the Mage-cloak around her shoulders. "Go back to sleep. The sun will be up in a few candlemarks." He brushed his lips with hers, and she settled down once more. He sat by her side, staring out into the forest. She wasn't the only one who was worried. - - - - - Hunched against the trunk of a tree, Jhorgab dozed, his head nodding gently up and down in rhythm with his breathing. When he had no longer trusted himself to stay awake a candlemark before, Mulder had roused the little troll to take his turn at watch. Jhorgab had wakened readily enough, but a short time later had been powerless to stop his heavy eyelids from closing. Shannon slept soundly a few meters away. Whether because of the fever or the herbs she took to combat it, Scully's sleep was deeper than normal, a heavy dreamless slumber. Mulder turned, frowning in his usual disturbed, dream-tossed sleep that afforded little rest. "Fox!" His eyes opened. He shifted yet again. That was a dream he was familiar with, but no amount of familiarity could make it any less troubling, any less painful. He willed his eyes to close once more. "Fox!" His eyes popped open. This was no dream - he had HEARD that distant cry, not imagined it. He sat up, tense, expectant. "Fox! Help me, Fox!" Springing to his feet, he peered into the dark forest in the direction from which the sound had come. He couldn't see anything, but the voice had sounded close. "Fox! I need you!" Slowly, he pushed his way through the underbrush. Mist swirled at the floor of the forest and the twin moons cast eerie dappled light and shadow through the trees. He acted purely on an instinctive level, not considering for a moment the impossibility of Samantha's being here, in this strange world. He knew only that she was calling him, calling out as she had done over twenty years before. And maybe - just maybe - this time he would be able to save her. He had gone only a few paces when the first wave of dizziness hit him. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on through the trees, his pace becoming faster every time he heard the childish voice cry out for him. "Fox! Help me, please! They're hurting me!" He was now running, face and limbs scratched by a hundred branches, torn by a thousand thorns. The pain in his head and joints was almost unbearable, and vertigo caused him to lose his balance and fall repeatedly. Each time, he crawled back to his feet, a little weaker as the distance increased between him and his bondmate. He heard only the sound of his sister's voice, calling from deeper and deeper in the woods, calling for him. Animals, small rodents disturbed by his thrashing scurried for cover, and night birds ceased their song as he plunged past. Near now, larger animals growled and screamed. "Fox! Please help me, they're taking me!" Tears mixed with rivulets of sweat were running down his face. The whole horrible nightmare, unbearable the first time, was happening again. No, he couldn't let it, not again. He struggled to move his leaden feet forward toward the sound of the cries, and fell once more. Too dizzy to make it to his feet, he crawled through the underbrush, head pounding, stomach lurching. "Please, Fox! Please! Don't leave me alone with them! Why won't you help me?" Her voice was sobbing now, full of pain, confused and distraught by his abandonment. With a desperate growl, Mulder staggered to his feet. "I'm coming, Samantha! I'm coming!" He retched and spat, choking on bitter bile, and continued to weave through the forest for fifty more painful meters. Finally he fell and could no longer move. His lungs, his skin, were on fire and his muscles cramped agonizingly. His mind was worse, as the childish cries now turned to screams of terror, and like so many years before, all he could do was listen. "Oh, God. Samantha, I'm sorry!" he wept. His last conscious thought was that he had once again failed. - - - - - Scully awoke, muscles cramping and her head throbbing. At first she thought that her fever had become worse, that perhaps she had caught some disease from the river water. Then her mind felt a huge gap, and she suddenly turned over. Mulder was nowhere to be seen. She was on her feet in a second, and back on the ground a second later, head swimming, throat tight, fighting the nausea that seized her. Damn it, where is he? she thought. "Jhorgab! Jhorgab, wake up! Where's Mulder?" The troll sat up with a jerk, bleary-eyed. An expression of horror came over his fleshy green face. "I don't know. Oh, Goddess, I'm sorry. I fell asleep! Goddess! Scully, are you all right? Were you attacked? Did someone carry off the Mage? It's all my fault! I'm sorry, Warrior-Healer. I just couldn't help myself, and now..." Shannon, awakened by Jhorgab's wailing, sprang to her feet, sword in hand, and rushed to Scully's side. "What happened, Dana?" Stomach heaving, Scully struggled to her feet. The younger girl grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Mulder's gone...have to find him," she gasped. "All right. You stay here and Jhorgab and I will look for him." "No! Can't...have to get to him. He's in trouble." "So are you, by the looks of you. Jhorgab! Stop your whining and go get a horse, quick!" She held Scully upright until the little troll returned. Together, they boosted the sweating, agonized warrior up onto the back of the huge Realm steed. "Can you tell which way he went, Dana?" She raised her head, trying to feel him through their bond. Her sense of him was weak, very weak and it frightened her. "Yeah. That way, I think." Jhorgab led the horse through the underbrush. Shannon walked beside the animal where space permitted, casting anxious glances up at Scully. The preternatural silence of the woods was sliced through intermittently with the screams and snarls of wild creatures, each time bringing Shannon's hand to the scabbard of her sword. "We have to hurry," Scully urged. She clung to the horse's long, coarse mane, trying to ignore the pain, putting all her energy into reaching out to Mulder through their bond. //I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.\\ She was shaken by the lack of response. "Please, hurry. A little to the left, between those bushes." Jhorgab guided the horse between the thickets, his sharp eyes scanning the forest. Suddenly he dropped the reins and darted over to a thorn bush. He removed a scrap of white cloth. "He's been here, this is from his shirt, I am certain. Take heart, Warrior Healer, we shall find him." He quickened their pace. Shannon's head snapped around, startled by the snarl of another large animal nearby. Jhorgab shivered but did not slow. "That sounds uncomfortably like a woodscat. Be alert, Shannon, they hunt in packs." "Mulder's close," Scully called out suddenly. "Keep an eye out, Jhorgab!" She finally felt him clearly through the bond, almost semi-conscious but making a weak attempt to reach for her. //We're coming, love. We're coming.\\ The little troll led them through between two stands of trees. From a bush nearby, a large piece of bloodstained white fabric dangled on a finger-long thorn. "There!" Mulder was in a small clearing, motionless in a patch of moonlight. Scully slid off her horse and staggered to the side of her bondmate, touching him everywhere. His shirt hung in tatters, his skin was torn in a hundred places, he was pale and in shock - but he was alive. //Glad...you could make it,\\ he joked weakly, and put out a shaky hand to touch Scully's face. Not strong enough herself to reach in as a healer, she contented herself with catching his hand in hers and clasping it to her, feeling the pain in her body ebb with the closeness. A short distance away, Jhorgab commented, "It's fortunate you collapsed when you did, Mage Mulder. Shannon, take a look." She paced over to where the little troll stood, just beyond the area illuminated by the twin moons. "Shit!" she breathed. They stood at the edge of a chasm. A hundred meters below, the moonlight picked out jagged, fang-like rocks in sharp relief. She turned back to where the Mage still rested on the ground. "He's right, Dana. Another ten paces and Mulder would have been history." Jhorgab drew back from the edge and rejoined the group. "Now, if I may be so bold, I would like to suggest that we get out of here with all due speed. I have seen the yellow eyes of several woodscats nearby, and I believe it may be a good idea to-" "Help me get him on the horse," Scully urged. The troll and Shannon assisted Scully to awkwardly boost the tall, limp form of the Mage onto the broad back of the horse. Then she swung up behind him, encircling him with her arms. "Lead us out of here, Jhorgab!" They had taken no more than a few paces when the little troll stopped. Almost at the same moment, three large, dark, slinky forms emerged from the forest and immediately fanned out. With the precipice to their backs, all means of avoiding the creatures had been cut off. Shannon drew her sword and stepped in front of Jhorgab. Scully jumped down from the horse and reached for her own sword, realizing only now that in her haste to reach Mulder, she had left it on the ground back at the camp. She crouched to draw the knife from her boot as the first animal sprang. Shannon leapt in front of Scully and met the animal's charge. She caught it deftly in the midsection on the tip of her sword, the weight of the beast driving the blade in deeply. It went down with a scream, still writhing, trapping the girl beneath it She struggled out from under it, rolling to the side still grasping her sword. A huge clawed paw swiped at her, ripping through the skin of her leg. Furiously she slashed, her blade severing the arteries in the creature's neck. It gurgled for a moment, then was still. Maddened by the smell of blood, the other two beasts hurled themselves at the women, fangs bared. Jhorgab struggled to hold onto the frightened horse, as it reared back in a frantic attempt to distance itself from the attacking woodscats. "Jhorgab!" Mulder gasped, clinging to the mount's neck. Not a meter away from the dancing back hooves was the edge of the chasm. With all his strength, the troll pulled the panicked horse forward, away from the edge. His own danger temporarily averted, Mulder now looked on horror as the two women who meant the most to him fought a deadly battle with the remaining woodscats. Shannon had slashed at her attacker with her sword, and the wary beast now circled her just out of the reach of her blade, looking for any weakness, any mistake on the part of its prey. A few paces away, Scully grappled with the snarling creature that was twice her size, desperately trying to avoid the huge fangs as she sunk her knife over and over into the heavily muscled shoulders of the beast. The two were covered in the beast's blood as they rolled on the ground. Impatient for its kill, Shannon's beast suddenly sprang at the girl. Almost at the same moment, Scully's knife, slick with blood, slipped from her grasp. Sick with terror, Scully looked up into the evil eyes as the blue-black beast started for her throat. A blue glow suffused the clearing. Mulder sat high in the saddle, arms stretched out over his head, shockwaves of blue energy emanating from his hands. Jhorgab and the two women fighting for their lives were caught in the waves, feeling the electric tingle of the spell. More importantly, so did the two beasts they fought. Sensing the force, they recoiled from their prey, snarling and snapping in frustration as they reluctantly backed away. The waves spread further, forcing them back. Finally, they withdrew snarling into the forest. Jhorgab led the horse carrying the still-chanting Mage forward. Scully and Shannon picked themselves up and fell in behind, limping. The sky became rose tinted with the nearing dawn as Mulder continued to chant, holding the little party in the safety of the blue glow, as they moved slowly through the forest. Finally, in the comparative safety of their camp, his voice croaked to a stop, and he fell senseless from the saddle. End of Chapter Fourteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Fifteen She sat alone, quiet, her fury spent. The servants had long since retired in terror. They had spent the best part of the past two candlemarks fleeing the dark, dank corridors as they heard her approach, muttering in her magic tongue, kicking out at unfortunates who had not the sense to get out of her way. The black castle had trembled with her screams of rage. Finally, after venting her wrath on her weak, sniveling subjects, she had withdrawn to her workroom to think. Again, it should have worked, and again, she had failed. The fragments she had pulled from Drellor's terror-addled brain had been valuable. The plan had been foolproof. The Mage had indeed responded as she predicted to the sounds of his sister's cries for help. Where Drellor had picked up this useful tidbit, she couldn't discern, but it didn't matter. The Mage had believed, had followed the pitiful pleas for help from the safety of his camp into the dark forest. But he should have been following the sound as quickly as he could as she drew him ever more deeply into her trap. Running as fast as his legs could carry him through the woods, past the clearing, until his feet touched solid ground no more and he plummeted, to lie impaled on the dagger-like rocks below. Her eyes gleamed as she pictured him there, perhaps weakly calling out to this child Samantha with his dying breath, as his lifeblood dripped away to paint the stone beneath him. She closed her eyes and opened them again, the gleam gone. She had failed. And it was a mystery to her why. She knew he was strong, she had fought a battle for his mind when he had created the bridge, and she had lost. True, before that she had managed to startle him into dropping that annoying woman he traveled with into the river. But he would not allow that to happen again. He would be ready, as he had proven when casting the bridge spell. She had felt his force. The bridge spell was new - he had created it and not had the time to test it properly - and yet his control was superb, in spite of her best attempts at disruption. That sort of creativity was inauspicious in and of itself. Linked to the power she had seen, it was an unthinkable threat to her plans. But now - she didn't know what to think. Why did he collapse? Could it be that he was as weak in body as he was strong in Mage power? She cast her mind back to the images she had had of him, and licked her lips. No, he was well-formed - very well-formed, she thought salaciously - and apparently healthy, and young. No, he couldn't be a physical weakling. She toyed with the objects on the table in front of her - body parts of reptiles, amulets, bags of powders and herbs - as she pondered. What had caused this powerful, young, healthy Mage to collapse, mere paces from the fate she had designed for him? She shook her head and swept the tools of her trade from the table with a restless thrust of her arm. She couldn't get a clear sense of this Mage Mulder at all. If he were not so damnably PURE, she thought with disgust. He would be a consort worth having - powerful, tall, well-favored. She laughed softly, deep in her throat. A consort who would doubtless know all kinds of intriguing ways to pleasure a woman. The smile faded. She knew his kind, too much like the Other, and not likely to succumb to the tantalizing lure of the Black Arts. A waste, to be sure. Once again, she put her mind to the problem. She had to find out more. She knew some things about him to be sure, but not enough. Not enough to guarantee his demise. The Dark Queen got up and began to pace the damp, noisome tower chamber. So again, Mage Mulder had escaped. Worse, he continued his quest for the Other. The Blue Mage whom she had battled and had done no more than achieve a draw. The Other, whom, along with Mulder, she feared as she had feared no other adversary. Together they could conceivably put a stop to her plans for vengeance, if they went about it the right way. I must be more clever, she thought. More clever than Mulder, more clever than the Other, more clever than I have been up to now. I have to plan, and conserve my strength. This Mage Mulder will have to be exceptionally wise to find his way to the Other. She barked a short, humorless laugh. The Other had protected himself well, from friends as well as from enemies. Very well, let the protections the Blue Mage had constructed defeat them all. She would be the benefactor in the end. From deep in her soul, she felt the hunger stirring again, refusing to be put down any longer. Hunger that Mulder's bloody death should have fed. Sighing, she picked up the hematite sphere and closed her eyes. She felt the familiar thrum of her power as it reverberated onto her fingertips. Somewhere there was a village ready to ignite into a firestorm of bloodshed. And she would find it. - - - - - "Are they done yet?" the eager voice asked, for at least the tenth time. "Not yet," Shannon replied automatically. She rotated the makeshift spit once again. The ducks - or whatever the Realm equivalent - were browning nicely, the fat hissing as it hit the fire. "Why don't you check out the river, see if it's still calm. I could use a bath." Jhorgab wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You should have been born a fish." "Go on," she said smiling. "By the time you're back, the meat will be ready." "If I were doing the cooking, it would be done already," he grumbled. "Do you think we should wake them?" He nodded in the direction of Mulder and Scully, sleeping folded in each other's arms. She shook her head. "No, let them sleep. They need it." The troll trudged off down the path. Shannon sat, idly turning the spit and listening to the unaccustomed quiet. But now that without Jhorgab's chatter she could hear her own mind, she wasn't sure she wanted to. It seemed she always drifted to thoughts of Andalor. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Did his heart begin to thump wildly when he thought of her, as hers did for him? Impatiently, she flicked her long ebony braid back over her shoulder. What was she doing? Thinking about Andalor was a waste of time. They would never be allowed to have more than they had right now - a friendship. Trouble was, while that was nice, she wasn't sure that it was what she wanted. That night on the battlements, when he had wrapped her in his cloak - for the first time something stirred deep within her that felt like.... No, I can't do this to myself, she thought. If I'm going to stay here in the Realm, I'd better get over this. She poked the fire glumly. Suddenly, hearing a noise behind her, she was on her feet with her sword drawn. "Excellent instincts. And you thought you wouldn't make a good warrior," teased Scully. She disentangled herself from Mulder's long limbs, and sitting up, stretched like a sated cat. Shannon slid her sword back into its sheath and returned to minding the food. "Have a nice nap?" "Yeah. Did I miss anything?" "Just Jhorgab's discourses on anything and everything. I finally sent him to check out the river before I lost it completely." Scully frowned. "Shannon, that could be dangerous. What if a woodscat -" " 'Woodscats are nocturnal creatures and are rarely seen in the daylight. Indeed, it is not even known where they sleep during the day, but -' do I really have to go on? I now know more about woodscats than anyone has a right to know. Besides," she added darkly, "he would have been in more danger if he had stayed here and kept pestering me about when the food was going to be ready." Scully chuckled. "Where'd the food come from?" "Oh, Jhorgab and I went hunting. It was that or listen to him whine about there only being bread and cheese left to eat, 'and hardly enough just for him'. I thought under the circumstances, hunting was the lesser of the two evils. Anyway, in case you woke up, I thought you two might like to have a little time 'alone'," she said archly, sneaking Scully a sly grin. "Thanks for thinking about us," said Scully dryly. In spite of the cool of her words, she felt the telltale blush color her neck and face. Shannon giggled and said, "Okay, I think it's done. It's duck - or something duck-like. Are you hungry?" "Famished. I haven't really eaten since the picnic on the beach - Goddess, was that only yesterday? Seems like forever." "Well then, try this. You might find out I'm a better cook than I am a warrior." Scully took the plate she offered and tried some of the tender meat. "It's delicious. I don't know what a cook's aura looks like, but you may have some culinary talents at that. What's this?" "I made a kind of relish with those cranberry things. What do you think?" "Could use a touch of honey, but not bad." She turned as Mulder stirred beside her. "Trust you to wake up when there's food. How're you feeling?" He sat up gingerly and surveyed his tattered, bloodstained clothing. "Better than I look. Did someone mention food?" "FOOD!" Jhorgab hurtled up the path and slid to a halt near Shannon. "That wasn't fair! You sent me away and now everyone's eating except me! Really, you shouldn't have -" "Here!" The girl silenced him by handing him a plate with more than even a troll's share of the feast. He withdrew to the other side of the fire and began stuffing food into his mouth. The others averted their gaze. The troll's table manners tended to put a damper on their appetites. They chatted, mostly about trivialities, as they ate. Scully cast an occasional glance at her bondmate, trying to pick up clues that would explain why he would have left her side the night before. She kept her shields in place, deliberately blocking his attempts to reach her. They exchanged one of their patented looks - the "we'll talk about this later" one. Mulder grimaced a bit after his third vain attempt to communicate in their unique way. In truth, he felt more than a little ashamed, now hard put to explain even to himself why he had gone tearing off into the woods. In the light of day, the whole concept seemed ridiculous, that Samantha could be here, in this world. But last night - her cries seemed so substantive, so real. He finished his meal in silence. Shannon tossed down her plate and groaned. "That was great, if I do say so myself. Now all I need is a bath, and I'll feel almost human again." Scully glanced, smiling, at the girl, then turned serious. "Shannon, your leg looks terrible!" Shannon winced as she stood and looked down at her left calf, where the night before the woodscat had raked three deep gashes in her skin. "Looks bad, feels worse," she admitted. The wound edges were puffy and inflamed. "Where were you going to bathe?" Scully, all healer now, got up and moved a few paces to her saddlebags, only to be struck by the wave of vertigo that was becoming so familiar these days. She staggered, then steadied herself. Mulder had thrown his hands down on the ground beside him, in a hasty attempt to keep from falling over. She pulled a pouch from one of the saddlebag compartments, and returned to stand near Mulder. The bond effects were worsening. "The river. Jhorgab said it's really clear and calm today." She dropped her shield and the bondmates talked over the risks of further intervention by their mysterious enemy. "All right. But not alone. Jhorgab will go with you." "Dana!" The girl blushed furiously, and turned unbelieving eyes to Mulder and Scully. "Jhorgab will keep his back to the river," said Mulder firmly, looking pointedly at the troll. "But he will be there for you if there's trouble. Do we have an understanding, Jhorgab?" He nodded, wide-eyed. "Of course, certainly, Mage Mulder. I stay close, but keep my eyes away from Shannon. I understand, and I certainly understand your reasons, as a good taabsut, for taking every precaution. But I must say, however, that I find your halla too tall and skinny to be attractive in any way, and I - " Scully smothered a laugh. "I think you've said enough, Jhorgab. Shannon, you can't go alone, it isn't safe. I'd come with you, but since we can't seem to get more than two paces away from each other, I'd have to bring Mulder. Jhorgab will behave himself, or he'll spend the rest of the journey as a pack horse." The little troll grimaced. "Here. Use this powder. It will work like soap and help disinfect the wound. When you come back, I'll go to work on it." Shannon grabbed the pouch and some clean clothes. She trudged off down the path, her ever-loquacious shadow by her side. Even before she turned to speak, Mulder could tell by the set of her shoulders and the tenseness in her body that they were about to have that postponed discussion. "Dana, I -" "What the hell did you mean by last night's stunt? What the hell were you trying to prove? Goddamn it, Mulder, you could have been killed. If not by this...this... THING we have between us, then by falling off that goddamn cliff or getting eaten by wild animals. What were you thinking?" Furious tears filled her eyes. All shields were dropped now, and he was almost knocked over by the force of the wave of terror and hurt that surged from her mind. "Dana, it was Samantha." "WHAT?" He shook his head, then looked up into her eyes, to see fear and bewilderment. Explanations were definitely in order. "It wasn't her. I mean, of course it wasn't her. And it does seem crazy, I know, now in the light of day. But last night...it seemed so real." He sighed, hesitating. "I...heard her. It was just like...before.... She was calling to me to help her. The voice seemed close and I just went a little way into the woods, to see if I could spot her, and then the voice got further away, and I just..." His voice faded. Only now did the full import of his actions hit him. "I didn't think. I just kept feeling worse and worse, and I never gave it a thought that you would be feeling the same way. God, Dana, I'm so sorry. You're right. You're absolutely right. You should be pissed at me. I'm pissed at myself. I don't have the faintest idea now why I could even think for a moment that she could have been here. But last night..." He broke off, searching her face for some sign that perhaps she could understand what he couldn't understand himself. And she did. He felt a wave of love and comfort envelop him like a warm blanket. "I know why...you just couldn't go through it all again. Not if there were even the remotest chance that it could really be Samantha out there." He sent a flood of gratitude her way. Gratitude for her understanding, for being at his side, for simply being herself. She smiled one of her "just for him" smiles. Then she turned business-like again. "Well, our solo days are over, Mulder. If what we just experienced when I went to get my saddlebags is any clue, we're going to be joined at the hip from now on, or suffer the consequences. Next time you go haring off in the woods, you're not ditching me." "I wouldn't dream of it." He caught her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. His mouth covered hers, his tongue delving deep inside. Moments later, they pulled apart, breathless. His eyes twinkled and his generous mouth was upturned at the corners. "When the kids come back, what do you say you and I go down to the river for a swim?" Scully smile broadened. - - - - - They arrived in Peaksview as the sun was setting. The trip had been difficult, especially for the last candlemark, all uphill and the path so narrow and dangerous that they went single file or led their horses on foot. Even being separated by the mere length of a horse was difficult for the bondmates, struggling against the irritability and nausea, clutching desperately at their reins to avoid a fall that would mean a long painful slide down the mountain. They rode side by side now into the village, legs brushing, sometimes even compelled to reach out and caress the arm of the other to get the comfort only touching now seemed to bring. They dismounted outside a busy inn and went through the customary haggling over the price of rooms. The troll innkeeper seemed less impressed with the Mage than the fact that there was a troll traveling with his party. The three rooms they finally agreed on were the last in town. The next day was to be the area's Spring Market Fair, and beings from all over the eastern portion of this world were pouring into Peaksview. Jhorgab stayed behind to gossip as the three humans climbed wearily up the wooden staircase to their rooms. "Let's meet downstairs in a candlemark to eat," Mulder called to Shannon. She waved, and entered her room, closely followed by the innkeeper's son with a bucket of hot water for bathing. The bondmates waited for their own wash water to arrive, then fell on the bed which took up most of the floorspace in the tiny chamber. He stroked her hair, marveling at the strength of his partner. She appeared no more discomfited by their long journey than if she had just stepped off the shuttle at Dulles. Maybe less - given her dislike of flying. He knew better, of course. Having access to her mind, he could have easily peeked in to view the exhaustion from the rigors of travel. But Scully being Scully, she would never show it, even to him. And Mulder being Mulder, he would give her that, would not disrupt the myth she fashioned so carefully for the world. "Mmmm, we couldn't stay like this for the next several days, could we? A bed," said Mulder, eyes closed in bliss. "A comfortable bed. I'm in heaven." Scully chuckled, sitting up but maintaining physical contact with her bondmate. "Tempting thought. But I'm more happy with the fact that, natural hazards aside, this leg of the trip was without interference from our mysterious enemy. You know, Mulder, it's also a stroke of luck that the Market Fair is tomorrow. This place is mobbed. With all the extra beings in town, our chances have improved of finding someone who might know of Hannu's whereabouts." "Shh, not so loud - you'll jinx us." Mulder curled around her body, resting his head on her leg, a soft smile on his face. Suddenly her mind was suffused with his memories of their highly satisfactory "swim" earlier in the day. "I don't have to guess what you're thinking, do I?" she smiled, but didn't protest as he drew her to him. - - - - - A candlemark later, they all met and managed to grab the last table in the busy tavern that adjoined the inn. Jhorgab insisted in ordering for everyone from the troll cuisine presented on the large board on which the bill of fare was written. What the food may have lacked in taste, it made up for in quantity, and a beatific smile lit the troll's features as, for the first time in many days, he was actually full. Finally they all sat back on the rough wooden benches and sipped their tea. "There are more kinds of beings here than I ever imagined," said Shannon, wide-eyed. Over in one corner of the big room, a large group of Gilfralian cat people sat, hissing and spitting in their strange language. She indicated several beings across the room, sitting near the huge hearth. They were very tall, especially in this world of mostly small creatures, and quite hairy, reminding her of Chewbacca from the Star Wars movies. "Jhorgab, what are those beings?" "Ah, those must be Urtrads," he replied. "You're very fortunate to see them. They are usually extremely reclusive, living at the tops of the highest mountains where there is always snow. They're probably down for the Market Fair - stocking up on supplies after the long winter. I've never seen any myself, but they fit the descriptions I've heard. It is said they never speak. They communicate by means of grunts, whistles and hand signals." The travelers watched as the group appeared to be carrying on a conversation of sorts using fleeting, subtle gestures and facial expressions. "What about those beings?" Scully asked, pointing to a small contingent of human-looking beings - human-looking if one discounted the blue skin, orange hair, clawlike hands and tusks, that is. "Ugh, those." Jhorgab grunted. His expression darkened and he lowered his voice. "Now those beings I have met before. You don't want to mess with them. They're called rax. They come from the coastal regions in the extreme east, a peninsula near Horsehead Bay. Their tempers make the elves' look tame. They look for trouble, and create it when they don't find any." "They seem well-behaved at the moment," commented Mulder mildly. The words were hardly out of his mouth when one of the rax sprang from his chair to grab the waiter by the throat, holding him dangling off the floor. "Sorry, I spoke too soon." Jhorgab's expression was a smug I-told-you-so. "Mulder, can you do anything? The waiter's turning as blue as the rax," Scully asked anxiously. He closed his eyes and concentrated, then pointed a finger in the direction of the belligerent rax. A blue fireball shot from his hand to hover just above the rax's head. The laughter and shouts of the unruly group abruptly stopped, and a silence descended upon the tavern as the patrons watched, fascinated. The Rax and Mulder made eye contact, Mulder's gaze cool, unwavering, and the fireball dropping just a little closer to the frizzy orange hair. With a sneer, the Rax dropped the waiter, picked up his chair, and sat down. The fireball disappeared, and the room once again was filled with chatter. "Well, they're argumentative but they appear to exercise good judgment," the Mage said. "You know, there's just about every type of being here except the one I'd like to find - a gargoyle." "So you can see about translating the scroll?" Scully stood and peered around. "Wait! There's one over there," she said, nodding toward the bar. "Great! I'll be back in just a second." Automatically, he got up and began to stride over toward the gargoyle. After a few steps, he staggered. "Uh...Scully?" "I'm with you, Mulder." She rose carefully and went to him, both feeling better when she lightly took hold of his arm. They continued to the bar. Shannon and Jhorgab watched as they exchanged words with the gargoyle, then returned to their seats. "He wasn't terribly...receptive," Scully explained, hiding a grin. "Wouldn't you know, I finally find a gargoyle and he doesn't speak the damned language," Mulder grumbled, shaking his head. "Must be one of the 'undesirables' Mikora mentioned." "Well, I think we'd better try to take advantage of the number of beings here and start asking about Hannu," suggested Scully. "Giving our friends the Rax a miss, of course." They paid for their meal over the earnest protests of the waiter the Rax had accosted, and split into two teams. Two candlemarks later, they met in the bondmates' room. "Okay, what did you get?" asked Mulder wearily. Shannon collapsed on the bed with Mulder and Scully, rubbing her eyes. "Hannu is dead. Hannu is alive, but on another world. Hannu is alive, but has changed himself into - fill in the blank. Hannu is back, but his whereabouts are unknown. Hannu is alive and well and stays that way because he kills everyone who goes looking for him. Hannu is alive and well and living at - get this - Fairwoods Keep. Take your pick." "So your luck wasn't any better than ours, I take it," said Scully. "Oh, Scully, I kind of liked the one about how Hannu was living out his days as a fearsome sand beast in the Great Rose Desert," replied Mulder. He sighed. "Look, it's late and we're tired. Let's get some rest and we'll try again tomorrow. At least the word is out that we're looking for Hannu - maybe something will come of that." - - - - - She watched the tall human from the safety of the shadows - not that she was likely to be noticed in any event. She focused on the girl's aura. It was as she had been told - the vibrant warrior green with ripples of Mage blue. A rare combination, but there it was before her eyes. She looked on as the girl made her way from tent to kiosk to booth, looking over the wares for sale and exchanging a few words with the sellers. So she was still searching, Laira thought. Laira maintained her watch, now noticing a young troll hurry up to the girl. They spoke for several moments, then she nodded and the troll bustled away again. The tall girl crossed the marketplace and approached the booths on this side, near to where she hid. Sniffing the air, taking a quick glance around, Laira joined the throng of shoppers milling around the marketplace. Shannon toyed with some knives at a smith's kiosk, examining the blades with a practiced eye. "I can do something for you? My craftsmanship is second to none. A nice new knife, perhaps, for the lady warrior?" asked the elven proprietor. "Perhaps," Shannon said coolly. "Although I am more interested in information." "That, too, may be available - for a price." She nodded curtly. "If your information is worth paying for. I want to find a Mage named Hannu." "Hannu! Not an easy task. There are stories, of course...." An avaricious gleam came into the elf's eyes. "Perhaps I could ask around, contact some beings I know. Surely that would be worth some small recompense for my trouble?" A look of uncertainty crossed the girl's face. Three candlemarks, and so far she and Jhorgab had nothing to show for it. If there was even a chance.... Her hand moved toward the money pouch that dangled from her belt. "Save your money, warrior. He knows nothing of value." Shannon looked down at a tiny elderly female elf. Small sparkling black eyes met questioning amber ones. The elf laid a hand on her arm, drawing her away from the kiosk and the now- angry proprietor. They made their way through the crowd and the noise, and stepped inside a quiet tea shop. They took a table in the corner, and Shannon nodded to the waiter. They maintained their silence until the tea had been served and the first sip taken. "It is a matter of the greatest urgency that I find Hannu," Shannon began in a low voice. "Can you help me?" "Yes, I have heard that you are searching for Mage Hannu. Why do you want to find him?" Shannon looked at the old elf appraisingly. She seemed reliable, her shining white braid twisted in a bun on the top of her head, her wrinkled face guileless. But she had almost been burned by the knife-seller, and it had made her cautious. "I'm not at liberty to discuss our mission. I can say only that the matter is urgent, and has the blessing of King Andalor." Laira nodded, not surprised by the revelation. She took another sip of tea. "I cannot help you until I know a little more. I, too, have my orders." Shannon hesitated, then slowly replied, "I travel with my taabsut, a powerful Mage. Let me discuss this with him. If he wishes to contact you, where can we meet?" "Bring your Mage to the bread shop two candlemarks after sunset. The shop will be closed, but knock at the door. You will be admitted. But only you and the Mage," the elf warned. The girl shook her head. "That's not possible. There is another who travels with us. She must also be present." "Out of the question. I'm taking a chance as it is." The elf's lips were set in a firm line. Shannon was equally adamant. "What if she were to go instead of me? She must be with the Mage, or there will be no meeting." "Why?" Shannon sighed. This was the best lead they had gotten, but she was reluctant to part with one bit of information more than absolutely necessary. At the same time, somehow she had to gain the elf's trust. "Again, it is not for me to tell you. Please understand, our journey so far has been difficult. We have all been in peril of our lives. There is someone or something trying to stop us. Someone or something evil. We have to be careful." The elf seemed to soften a bit. "How would I know this other woman?" "Her aura is that of a warrior and healer." For just a split second, the old elf's eyes widened in surprise. Could it be? Now it was her turn to appraise Shannon. After a moment, she nodded. "Very well. Send the Mage and this woman you speak of. My name is Laira. Tell the Mage to speak my name when he knocks at the door." "Laira. I'll remember." "Good. Now go to your Mage and discuss this. And tell him he must be more forthcoming with information than you have been if he is to learn what he wants." Shannon nodded. "I'll tell him." Laira finished her tea and stood to leave. "Stay here and finish your tea. Don't leave this shop until I am well clear of the marketplace - say, a quarter of a candlemark. If you try to follow me, there will be no meeting." "No problem. And Laira - thank you." The old elf nodded slowly, a faint smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Then she turned and stepped out the door. - - - - - The cobblestone streets were lively only near the marketplace. The tiny culdesac the pair turned down was dark and forbidding, making the laughter and the gaiety of the marketplace seem much further away than it actually was. The bondmates walked hand in hand, both wearing heavy cloaks against the sharp night mountain air. "I don't like this, Mulder. I don't like it at all. This could be a trap." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We've been over this. Yes, it could be a trap, but it's a risk we have to take. It's still the best lead we've gotten so far on Hannu. We don't have a choice." "I feel like we're being watched," Scully muttered, peering around at the darkened windows and doorways of the closed shops. "We probably are," he replied mildly. "But it could be worse...at least the Realm hasn't discovered guns. Okay, this is it." They approached a metal-bound wooden door. Mulder raised the heavy iron knocker and brought it down firmly three times. Inside, they thought they could hear movement. Mulder knocked again, calling softly, "Laira?" The door opened to reveal the tiny elven female, stooped with age, carrying a candle. "Follow me," she demanded in a low voice. They entered the shop, redolent with the comforting aroma of the day's baking. Except for Laira's candle, there was no light. They followed her through another door, and heard her speak again. "Close the door behind you. Take three paces further into the chamber, and then stop." The tone of her voice left no room for argument. They did as she commanded, standing still in the pitch dark for several moments, hearing only the movements of the old elf. Finally she emerged from yet another door, carrying a torch. "Remove your cloaks and drop them to the floor." They complied as she lit the three other torches in the room. The chamber was made of white stone, the one small window covered in some sort of dark material, allowing no light to escape. As they looked around, blinking against the sudden bright illumination, she took stock of her visitors. There was no guesswork, no hidden surprises to be feared from her reading of the Mage's aura. As clear and pure a Mage blue as she had ever seen, just as she had been told. His companion, the woman - her aura was the telltale green of the warrior and brown of the healer, with.... She gasped. Those touches of blue which exactly matched that of the Mage could mean only one thing. Laira took a shaky breath. But could she believe her own eyes or was this some sort of illusion? "Forgive my rudeness, Mage, but it was necessary. Let's withdraw to a more comfortable chamber." She took her torch and motioned for them to retrieve their cloaks and follow her once more, this time entering a small but welcoming room, three armchairs pulled invitingly close to the hearth. "Please sit while I fix tea." "Mage Mulder," she said after the tea had been distributed, "tell me the reason for your quest for Hannu." "Isn't it enough to know that we are who we say we are?" countered Scully. "And how am I to know who you are?" Mulder looked directly into her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I assume you had us remove our cloaks and stand in a white room so you could read our auras, am I correct? They are...distinctive, are they not?" "What business is it of yours why we have to find Hannu?" Scully asked suspiciously. "We come on the business of King Andalor and the Royal Mage Reinald. That should be enough." Laira smiled grimly. "Perhaps it should be, but it isn't. Now why do you seek Hannu?" //We have to tell her.\\ His eyes caught Scully's for a moment, then slid back to the elf. //Why? She's given us no assurances. Mulder, think. How do we know we're not being set up? We could spill our guts, only to have her turn into... I don't know. Something. Something in league with whoever or whatever is trying to stop us.\\ //I think we can trust her.\\ //Based on what?\\ //A hunch.\\ //You want to lay everything on the line, based on a hunch.\\ Scully's face was clearly disbelieving. He shrugged imperceptibly. //She's a tough cookie. We're not going to get any information if we don't, it's as simple as that. It's a calculated risk, but one worth taking. And just in case it makes a difference, I don't sense any Black Arts at work here.\\ Scully's stony expression relaxed slightly. //You don't mind if I'm ready, just in case?\\ //I was counting on it.\\ His thoughts carried the sense of loving amusement, pride and rock-solid trust. He sat forward, maintaining eye contact with the old elf. "Laira, our mission is twofold. Most importantly, we are trying to save the Realm. Beings are at each other's throats in villages all across the land - sometimes based on interspecies hatred, sometimes for no discernible reason at all. The bloodshed has been terrible. Mage Reinald and I believe that someone is using the Black Arts to cause it. Someone extremely powerful." "Surely you do not accuse Hannu of such horror!" Mulder sat back, surprised, and felt Scully's shock as well. "No, we never thought that for a single moment. We seek Hannu for answers." "What answers?" He opened his arms wide. "Who could be causing the hatred that is spurring the bloodshed. How that being can be defeated. How we can put a stop to the violence that is tearing the Realm apart." She thought for a moment. "You said your mission is twofold." "Our other reason for seeking Hannu is...personal." Laira shook her head vehemently. "Not good enough, Mage. I can help you, but I must be absolutely sure of your motives before I do." Mulder looked at Scully whose jaw was set in the stubborn expression he knew so well, and her eyes had taken on a steely glint. It was time to draw the line. "We mean Hannu no harm. We seek only his advice and his knowledge. If you read auras as well as I think you do, you'll know I'm not lying. Our second mission affects no one but Scully and myself. As I said, it's personal. Take it or leave it." He sat back and allowed his aura to flare a little, reflecting his growing impatience. Involuntarily, Laira shrank back. The Mage was growing angry, and a Mage's wrath... But he was controlling it. No thunder sounded outside, no rain beat upon the windows of the little chamber. That said something of the man's character, she thought, more perhaps than words. She had her orders, but surely this situation called for a little latitude. The other safeguards were still in place. Safeguards that would not allow him to pass further if he were not sufficiently wise, if his mission was not sufficiently urgent. Slowly she nodded. "Very well. I will take a chance. What do you know of Hannu?" "Really, very little," answered Mulder. "In a way, this quest was launched more on wishful thinking than real expectations. We didn't even know for sure he existed until recently." "How did you determine that?" "Mainly because of the interference we've been getting as we've gotten closer to Hannu's rumored whereabouts," Scully replied. "Our journey so far has been plagued by bandits, animal attacks, unexplainable accidents, and lately, outright attempts on our lives. At first it just seemed like bad luck, but after the past couple of days, we now believe the Blacks Arts are involved." "How so?" Mulder tapped the side of his nose with an index finger. The old elf's head bobbed. "Ah, yes. I have heard that powerful Mages can smell the stench of the Black Arts." "I don't think that there would be as much effort to stop us if we were on a fool's errand," continued Mulder. So we deduced that Hannu must exist, and we must be headed in generally the right direction. But now we're at an impasse unless we get more information." "And the most difficult part of your journey is yet to come, Mage." Mulder and Scully looked at each other with misgiving. Here they had been daring to hope that things might get easier from here on. "Most difficult?" Laira rose to place another log on the fire. "I will not tell you more about Hannu. Only that there is at least an element of truth to the legends you may have heard. He can tell you more about himself, if he so wishes." She returned to sit and skewered Mulder with her stare. "That is, assuming you make it that far." //I don't know about you, but I've just about had it with the thinly veiled threats and the suspicion and the contrived mystery here.\\ Scully fumed. //Easy. We won't get anywhere by getting pissed off.\\ "What is going to make the rest of our journey so difficult? I would have thought that being almost stabbed, slashed, eaten, drowned and lured off a cliff would be enough for any trip." The old elf snorted. "You seem to have made a formidable enemy, Mage." She shook her head. "I have one function and one function only - to get you to the next step." "Which is?" Scully asked coldly. "Tomorrow you must depart for Treetops, a day's journey north of here, through the mountains. There you will be contacted by the village Mage. He will tell you how to proceed." "And?" The single syllable had a knife-sharp edge. Her warrior aura was now predominant, the blue and brown merely amorphous smudges and almost unnoticeable. "And nothing. I can't tell you any more." "Can't? Or won't?" Scully demanded. Up until now, the elf had directed most of her attention to Mulder. Now she turned to Scully. In her most conciliatory tone, Laira replied, "Can't, actually. I don't know any more...not for sure, anyway." Mulder leaned forward and treated the Elf to the open, honest gaze that women in two worlds had found irresistible. "Look, Laira. You know how important our mission is, I know you do. Anything you can tell us that would help us out - please, we need your help." He reached over and grasped her gnarled, wrinkled hand. "I've spoken the truth. I know nothing more. But..." She sighed. "I will tell you this. You will never find Hannu unless you employ all your wisdom, all your goodness. A test awaits you." She hesitated, then continued. "I have sent only a few to the village Mage of Treetops. He has sent even fewer onward. And I know of no one who has actually reached Hannu." She looked at him sadly. The room was silent, each listening only to his or her own thoughts. Mulder stood. "Thank you, Laira, for your candor. But we must find Hannu. We have no choice." He and Scully donned their cloaks and went to the door, leaving the old elf sitting by the fire. They were out of the chamber when she finally spoke. "Goddess be with you, Mage Mulder. If anyone can each Hannu, I believe it will be you." End of Chapter Fifteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Sixteen The journey to Treetops passed in blissful serenity. The forest thickened as they rose in altitude, the small path winding precariously between dense walls of growth. Occasionally they could hear the call of birds from high above, sweet whistles punctuated by harsh cries. The air was pungent, thick with a nearly indistinguishable variety of fragrances, flowery perfume melding with the deepness of the rich brown earth. Heavily leafed tree branches arched high above their heads, forcing the light to filter down in a wavy, striated pattern, shifting with every movement of the wind. The tree trunks rose high and wide along the narrow road, obscuring any look deeper into the forest. Mulder found himself eyeing the dark shadows beyond with concern, but Jhorgab was visibly cheerier as they went deeper into the forest. "This is just like home," he chattered brightly, regaling them with tales of his childhood in the north. Shannon groaned when he started, but no one interrupted, for the lightness of his voice carried them forward, making the time pass easier. Even so, they were exhausted by the time the road widened, breaking into sporadic clearings and then finally, into a larger enclave of huts and wooden dwellings, set precariously against the edge of a sharp, stone-lined river. The water rushed furiously over boulders, splashing up against slices of rock, swirling against tree roots as it hurried on its way. There was only a single street in the little village, a slight widening of the road they were on, lined on either side by the small houses. The center was marked by the presence of two larger buildings, one easily recognizable as a temple, the other as the town meeting place. There did not appear to be an inn of any sort, something they had not considered before they left. Mulder sighed under his breath at the thought of yet another night spent camping, and Scully chuckled at his expression of dismay. //It's not so bad. Maybe someone will offer us a place to stay, and if not, at least these trees will provide good shelter.\\ Her hand squeezed his tightly; even riding side-by-side, they were uncomfortable unless in constant physical contact. It was not so demanding that they couldn't go a short pace without touching, but the relief was palpable when they did reach out to touch each other. The feel of skin on skin was electric, a soothing wave of comfort over tensed nerves. Mulder frowned, rubbing at his chin. //I don't know. We don't know what could be hiding in those woods. Still, I suppose it's better than trying to find cover on the open plains. Maybe...I wonder where everyone is?\\ So far they had not seen a living soul, although there were signs of habitation, tools and tended gardens, lights gleaming through curtained windows. Scully felt a jolt of concern, but they were already pulling to a halt in front of the small white temple, the doors engraved with an elaborate pattern of carvings, whirling shapes, and archaic runes. "So what now?" Shannon asked. "Dinner?" Jhorgab said hopefully. Shannon shot him an irritated glare, though she couldn't help agreeing with him a moment later. "That's not such a bad idea. I don't suppose they have a restaurant around anywhere?" "What's a ..." Jhorgab began, only to fall silent as they were suddenly surrounded by men. Mulder reined in his horse tightly, letting his cloak swirl around him, the dark blue color a visible warning around his lean body. Scully sat straight and solid by his side, controlling her horse with muscular thighs, her eyes making a slow, meticulous survey of their surroundings. They were not accustomed to seeing sudden hostility from the Realm dwellers, but times had changed. Given the dark influence flowing over the land, they could not take any chances. "Who are you?" growled a deep bass voice. Four pairs of eyes turned to face him; he was as massive as any of the huge oaks that rose so close behind them. His neck seemed wider than Mulder's waist, his face was thicker than Jourdain's with corded muscles that rippled with every motion of his huge arms. Mulder inclined his head in the man's direction. "I am Mulder, this is Scully, my halla Shannon, and our guide Jhorgab. We have come to talk with your village Mage." Before the big man could reply, a trilling voice interrupted him. "Stand aside, Nordan. All of you. These travelers are expected." A man, as little as Nordan was big, pushed his way up to stand in front of Mulder's horse. His spindly body was encased in the blue robe of a Mage, his long white hair flowing down his back. He bowed to Mulder. "Mage Mulder?" Mulder nodded. "I am Creve, the village Mage. Laira informed me you would be arriving soon. Please, come with me." Creve's narrow face took on a pinched look, his nostrils flaring. "There is ... much... we must talk of. Come, come..." He turned and imperiously walked away, obviously expecting them to follow. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances, then did so. - - - - - Creve had waited patiently while they settled the horses in front of his house, fastening the reins to a small wooden fence. There was plenty of grass and leaves in easy reach, and the animals were soon munching away. When they had gathered their packs, he waved urgently at them, inviting them inside. His house was small, the low doorway forcing Mulder to duck his head. Scully grinned at him, and he scowled dramatically, then grinned, his fingers tightening on hers. Their shoulders brushed against each other as they entered the living room of the cottage, sending a matched set of shivers down their arms to pool between their clasped palms. Their eyes met and clung, and it took a force of will to make them focus on something, anything, but each other. Creve was bustling around, preparing the inevitable tea, and at this point, all four of the travelers were anxious for the soothing beverage. Soon enough, they were all clustered in front of the fireplace, steaming cups of tea in their hands, a platter of bread and fruit set before them. Jhorgab munched happily, squatting on the floor at Shannon's feet, while Mulder and Scully were squeezed in beside each other on a larger divan. "So," Creve began abruptly. "You seek Hannu of the Forest." Mulder nodded. "Yes. We have been sent by King Andalor on an urgent mission to ask for Mage Hannu's assistance." Creve frowned, sipping cautiously at his tea. His mouth pursed. "Laira informed me that you came for two reasons." Mulder and Scully exchanged a darting glance, then Scully responded. "Then she must also have told you that the second reason is a personal one." Creve's eyes narrowed. "Hannu does not like wasting his time dealing with other people's personal problems." "That's understandable," Scully said delicately, leaning forward in her seat to fix the Mage with a calm blue stare. "But this is something that only Hannu may be able to help us with. We wouldn't have come this far if there had been an easier alternative." Creve met her clear gaze for a moment, then looked down into his tea. He heaved a huge sigh, his small frame trembling as the air whooshed out of his lungs. When he turned his brown eyes back up at their faces, his expression was grave. "Laira believes that you should be allowed to continue on from here, and so I will allow it. But the path you must take is not an easy one. There will be obstacles for you to overcome. Listen carefully, for I can only tell you this once." Mulder fixed him with burning eyes, a sharp flare of intelligence flaming behind emerald irises. Creve swallowed hard, sensing more than seeing the surge of power that swirled around the other Mage. Mulder nodded, Creve took one more swallow of his tea, and began to speak. "You will leave at dawn. I will take you to the edge of the path you must follow, but I can go no further. Stay on the path and do not leave it for any reason. At the end of the path, if you make it that far, you will find Hannu waiting for you. But there will be three barriers in your way; three tests that you must pass. And do not tarry over-long on any one of the three, for your time is limited. You have until sunset only, and if you do not pass all three tests and reach the end of the path by then, you will not be allowed to finish. You can turn back at any time, but if you do so, or if you fail to pass any of the tests or to complete the journey in the allotted time, you will not get a second chance. So think upon it carefully tonight - once you start, there will be no second chance." Jhorgab was so stunned by the Mage's words that his hand froze in the process of lifting bread to his mouth. Shannon looked to Mulder and Scully, and found them focused on Creve with total absorption. Scully's head was lifted, her chin thrust forward. Mulder was leaning down, his eyes hooded. Someone who did not know them well would assume they were lost in their own private contemplation, but Shannon knew better; knew that those two minds were never separated, always working together, arguing, sharing, trading thoughts and ideas upon the wings of his imagination and the solid earth of her logic. Abruptly, both shifted at once, Mulder again letting Scully speak for them both, remaining a silent force at her side. "What kind of tests will these be?" she asked. Creve shook his head. "I cannot tell you that. For everyone they are different, and yet the same. You must prove the depth of your hearts and the acuity of your minds, the clarity of your vision. The easiest choice may not be the right one, and all is not as it appears." He fell silent, his mouth clamping shut, his eyes furtive, almost as though he had said too much. Though not nearly enough for the four travelers, who were aching with frustration at the cryptic warning. Before they could ask another question, Creve got decisively to his feet. "You are welcome to stay here tonight, though I cannot offer you more than the floor before the fire. Sleep as well as you can, and consider carefully my words. Tomorrow at dawn you must leave, if you are still determined to go." - - - - - Scully nuzzled against his chest, sighing as his arms tightened reflexively around her. Her hair spilled against his shoulder, gleaming brighter than the fire itself. Mulder ran his fingers through the auburn strands gently, caressing her scalp, even as his mind twined with hers. //What do you think?\\ //Mmm,\\ she murmured contentedly before focusing the knife-blade of her intellect. //At least we know now what Daanna meant when she said we'd have to pass the tests to find the blue man. I'm still amazed she could predict that well. No wonder Aldara gets concerned about her.\\ Scully's thoughts were rich with rueful astonishment, but she forced it aside for more pressing concerns. //I get the feeling that this Hannu likes to play games with people,\\ she continued, her thoughts sharp as a steel blade. Mulder mirrored her frustration fiercely. //Guess we'll just have to out-play him,\\ he replied obstinately. Scully smiled against the thick fabric of his tunic. Mulder never backed down from a challenge, and the more someone tried to stop him, the more determined he got. Hannu didn't know what he was messing with in her bondmate; this was a man who'd taken on most of the U.S. government at one time or another, and while he may not have come out unscathed, he'd come out undaunted. She chuckled lightly, letting him simply feel her love and support. He pressed a kiss into the sweet-scented tumble of her hair, then his thoughts turned solemn, a slow worm of concern creeping down their lifebond. //Maybe we should leave Shannon and Jhorgab here. After all, this is primarily our problem, not theirs.\\ Scully was silent, even psychically, for a long moment. When her response came, it was slow, sadly certain. //No, I don't think we can leave them here. Shannon would never let us do it without a fight, and I can't really blame her. She's come this far, she has a right to see it through. And we might need her. Besides, I think she's supposed to come with us....\\ That last thought escaped Scully before she had realized it; before she knew where it had come from. It rang with certainty, unshakable truth, but she couldn't have told anyone, even Mulder, why. Her nerves jangled, and Mulder responded with a quick rush of reassurance, colored by confusion and concern. //What is it, love?\\ he asked. She tightened her arms around him, letting her fingers clutch at his back. //Nothing...\\ she tried to reassure him, only to get a silent vision of him shaking his head, a non-verbal sense of him refusing to accept the easy lie. //I just...I can't explain it. But Shannon has to come with us. I don't know how I know, I just know...\\ her mind-voice was plaintive, and he easily recognized her distress. Scully had come to terms with the Realm and its magical qualities, but mostly because she'd come to see the magic as something quantifiable, understandable. Something that could be tested, experimented on, studied and known. And their bond was so much a part of them that she had almost forgotten what life was like without it. Even her healing talent had become acceptable, because it, too, involved familiar processes. But the unknown still frightened her, and this unquantifiable, sudden sense of knowing disturbed her greatly. Mulder frowned, even as he bathed her mind in the balm of his love. He fully believed that Scully had more psychic talent than she could admit even to herself, or maybe least of all to herself. But now was not a good time for it to be asserting itself, and he didn't like the revelation. It made him even more nervous about bringing Shannon into this situation. She was in his care, and he felt fiercely protective of her. He'd lost so many people who mattered to him, and when he was being truly honest with himself, he knew he saw a reflection of Samantha in Shannon. Sometimes it made him ache inside looking at her; he could almost close his eyes and picture Samantha standing there, tall and slender, long dark hair whipping around her shoulders, hazel eyes bright. If only... But he'd had a lifetime filled with regrets and he knew better than to wallow in them. Not that he often didn't but... But at least on the morrow they'd be doing something. Taking action. Sighing, he closed his eyes, sinking down into the link with the lovely woman in his arms, until their minds were so entwined that even single thoughts could not be separated, one from the other. And that joined consciousness settled into simple, solemn resolution; if Shannon was needed with them on this journey, so be it. But together, they'd do whatever was necessary to keep her safe. - - - - - A solemn procession left Creve's small dwelling the next morning. The sun was a burnished orb, streaming red and orange flames across the treetops as the spindly, white-haired Mage led them to the far edge of the village. They proceeded a few feet past the last house, then Creve stopped and turned to the right side of the road. Mulder stared over his shoulder, but could see nothing except the dense growth of the forest. Not so much as the tiniest opening allowed passage, he doubted that even a small animal could penetrate that thick weave of trees and bush. But Creve was undaunted, and he stepped up close to the forest edge. Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a static tingle racing down his spine, as the village Mage raised his hands upwards. Creve chanted musically, briefly, in an unknown language, then his aura surged a pale, luminescent blue. A shimmer of light arced out from his extended fingertips towards the forest, striking against a large oak-like tree. There was a sharp flash, forcing the others to shade their eyes for an instant. When they lowered their hands, blinking to clear their vision, the tree was gone. In its place was a brown-laced path, barely wide enough for two horses to ride side-by-side. The trees hovered over it, shielding it from the sunlight, giving the impression of a long dark tunnel. "There," Creve said with little satisfaction. "There is your path. Once you step onto it, you cannot turn back without forfeiting the chance to reach Hannu. Three barriers will stand in your way, you must pass all three before sunset. Do not tarry and do not stray... and may the Gods be with you." Not meeting their eyes, he drew his horse's head around and raced off towards the village without a backwards look. Mulder and Scully paused long enough for a quick kiss. Mulder cupped the side of her heart-shaped face, then swept back a loose strand of red hair. "Ready?" he asked gently. She smiled resolutely, firmly. "Always." He smiled back, loving her courage, her strength, her fierce determination. They'd faced worse together, and probably would again. But as long as she was by his side, little else mattered. //I love you,\\ he said, the feelings forged into a soul-deep promise. //I love you,\\ she replied, matching him heart and soul. As one they turned back to Shannon and Jhorgab, both sitting uneasily on their horses. "All right, let's get going. Scully and I will go first, you two stay close behind," Mulder instructed. The girl and the troll nodded understanding, leaning forward in their saddles in preparation. Scully reached out to squeeze Mulder's hand, then sat up straight and urged her horse forward. Mulder fell in at her side, and together, they left the road for the unknown path, heading deeper into the darkness of the forest. - - - - - They rode for what must have been a couple of candlemarks, time was hard to track in the forest depths. Sunlight barely penetrated here, a few strands weaving their way through the dense blanket of leaves above their head. In order to light their path, Mulder had fashioned and released one of his blue globes of light. It hovered, gleaming, just ahead of them, bouncing softly in the still air. One or two attempts at conversation faltered quickly, even Jhorgab seemed to be at a loss for words. The path wound sharply downward, then upward again, and for a while they could hear the sounds of rushing water, close by, then dying off into the distance as they proceeded further. After yet another long stretch of silence, their nerves were beginning to fray. Nothing seemed to be happening, and the sameness of the path made it feel as though they were standing on a treadmill, moving ever forward, yet going nowhere. Just as Mulder was about to call a short halt, to rest and water the horses, Scully suddenly reined her horse up sharp. "Look, there!" she exclaimed, pointing at a dark shape on the path ahead. It was crumpled against the edge of the forest wall, an outflung arm entangled with strands of green vines. Before Mulder could restrain her, Scully was off her horse and running over to kneel beside the still figure. Gasping as he felt the bond between them tighten and pull on his senses, making his skin itch and his stomach rise into his throat, Mulder followed her, nearly stumbling in his haste to reach her side. Even in the depth of her instinctive concern for the wounded stranger, Scully, too, had felt the immediate effects of putting only a few feet of distance between them. She could feel his every movement, and could barely hold back the sigh of relief as his hand closed upon her shoulder. Leaning back against him, she angled her head to meet his eyes. At the question in those hazel depths, she turned back to gently touch the blue skin of the unconscious humanoid. "It's a Rax, I think. And very seriously hurt. It looks as though he's been in a battle, or mauled by some kind of large animal." "A woodscat?" Mulder asked, lifting his head to stare around him anxiously. Jhorgab and Shannon were already approaching on foot, moving to stand in the center of the path beside them. Scully shrugged. "I don't know, and he's in no condition to say." She sighed. "I know nothing of Rax physiology. He looks human enough, but..." "Aaaiiieee," Jhorgab snorted. "Leave it be. We're probably lucky it's too hurt to cause us trouble." "Jhorgab!" Scully snapped. Shannon threw him a dirty glare but the little troll was unfazed. "Rax are nasty and dangerous. They do nothing but cause trouble." "Well this one's not doing anything but dying," Scully said, reaching out to place her hand on its forehead, sweeping back hair even brighter than her own from a gaping wound. She frowned. "I think the skull is fractured, but I don't see an immediate sign of damage to the underlying brain tissue. Even so..." "Do you think it can be healed?" Mulder asked. Scully sighed. "God, Mulder, I don't know. It certainly needs better treatment than I can give it here. We've got to get it to a village." Mulder glanced around him, then squeezed her shoulder firmly. "There's not much chance of that. We don't know how long it'll take us to get to Hannu, and we can't turn back..." "We can't just leave it here to die!" Scully exclaimed. "Maybe we're supposed to," Shannon broke in. Scully and Mulder turned, startled, and she shrugged. "Look, the only people who could even get on this path are trying to see this Hannu guy, right? So maybe this was one of the ones who failed, and so he's got to pay for it." Mulder frowned, his face hardening. He didn't like that thought at all. "I can't believe that a good Mage would kill just because someone failed some kind of test. Send him back to Treetops, yes, but not just let him die alone and abandoned." "Well, maybe it was an accident, a woodscat or something," Jhorgab said, staring around him wide-eyed. "Goodness knows what's living in these woods. At home we have these..." "It doesn't matter," Shannon interrupted. "We've already lost some time just stopping here and we haven't even hit the first test yet, whatever it is." Mulder's eyes narrowed, but he had to agree. He gazed sadly at Scully. "She's right about that, we need to get moving as quickly as possible." Scully glared back at him. //We can't just leave him here, Mulder!\\ Her outrage echoed in his mind, making him wince. He nodded slowly, studying the unconscious Rax carefully. //I know, but I'm not sure there's much of an alternative....\\ Then verbally, "Do you think we could carry him with us? We could make a litter of some kind, or I could levitate him and let him be pulled by one of the horses." Scully looked thoughtful for a moment, then closed her eyes and held out her hands over the body. Mulder could feel her healing senses stir to life, feel the energy surge down her arms and out to touch the wounded Rax. She held still for a moment, then withdrew, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think he'd survive the trip, Mulder, even if I put him in a stasis spell. He's too weak. If I could heal him some, to give him enough energy to hold in stasis, then maybe..." "All right, how long will that take?" Mulder asked. Scully turned to give him a worried look, leaning back into the strength of his body. "I'm not sure, but in his condition...it will cost us a candlemark at least, maybe longer." Mulder wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his chin against her forehead. //Are you sure he'll die if you don't?\\ //Yes,\\ Scully's response was certain. //I'm sorry, Mulder, but I can't just walk away and leave him to die.\\ He smiled against her. //I know, love.\\ He released her, leaning back on his heels. "All right, we'll just have to spend the time." "But..." Shannon and Jhorgab both sputtered simultaneously, but Mulder silenced them with a wave of his hand. "We can't leave him to die, so we'll have to move a little faster afterwards. Why don't you two start on making a litter for him while Scully works on healing him. As soon as she thinks he's able to be moved, we should be ready to go." Shannon nodded and turned. Jhorgab was slower, his yellow eyes narrowed with distaste as he looked at the Rax. "It wouldn't stop for us," he told Mulder. Mulder ran a hand through his dark hair, the bangs tumbling forward again, undaunted, as soon as his fingers had brushed through them. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we have to act like a Rax, Jhorgab." The troll stared at him for a moment, then suddenly grinned. "Ahh, yes, as usual you are right, Mage Mulder. Indeed. We should *not* act like a Rax." Appeased, he hurried off to help Shannon gather branches, both careful to stay on the path. Mulder watched them for a moment, then looked back down at Scully. Her eyes closed, she was dropping slowly, meticulously, into her healing trance. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, letting calm energy flow down their link. Her mind seized on it, drawing on him, letting his power feed her mind as she began to reach out to the wounded Rax laying at her feet. They remained crouched there, both unmoving, breathing in concert, hearts pulsing at the same rate, bodies and minds attuned. Mulder caught only fragments of what Scully was doing, seeing, images flirting with the edges of his awareness. Primarily he felt her focus, the intensity with which she approached the task at hand, the slow meticulous movement of her mind. He had never felt closer to her than in this instant, it seemed, watching her work, feeling her soul leap into the healing process, sensing her exultation at easing pain and sealing wounds. Neither realized how long they had been kneeling there, until her energy waned and the demands of cramped muscles began to scream louder. Scully wavered as her trance began to weaken, and Mulder caught her in his arms, groaning from the backwash of both their discomforts, the numbness in her legs competing with the tight cramp in his. They fell backwards, Scully coming to rest on Mulder's chest. She sighed, wriggling against him, the rush of desire startling her with its intensity, fighting against her exhaustion. Mulder's response to her was instant and obvious, but with a slow, ragged breath, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, pushing her back far enough to look into her eyes. //Are you all right?\\ he asked, shifting his position yet again, stroking the side of her face. She drew in a harsh gulp of air, then nodded. She could feel her cheeks redden under the heat of his gaze, and saw the corners of his full mouth curl upward. "Yes, I'm fine." He grinned unabashedly. "Yes, I'd say you are." She glared at him, only for a moment, then gave him a breathtaking smile. Her blue eyes twinkled before she closed them, again filling her lungs with air. "We'd better get going." Mulder nodded, unable to stifle a slight moan as he fought his way to his feet. Rubbing at his calf with one hand, he offered her the other. She took it willingly, groaning in concert, as her own muscles protested. "I think he'll be all right in stasis for a while, but one way or the other..." her voice stilled as she looked around to find Shannon and Jhorgab staring at them wide-eyed. "What..." Scully began to ask, only to realize that they weren't staring *at* her, they were staring *past* her. "What the hell...." Mulder exclaimed, having turned to look before she did. She swung her head around, and gasped aloud. The wounded Rax was no longer laying on the side of the path. Nothing remained, not so much as one drop of blood or a single strand of orange hair. "Where'd he go?" Scully asked, even though the question sounded foolish in her ears. He couldn't have gone anywhere. She'd put him in a stasis spell, and even so, she'd surely have heard him moving. And... There was a sudden flash of bright light in front of them, and they gasped. A voice boomed out of the air, drilling against their eardrums. "The first test is completed. You may pass." The sound echoed, bell-like, then died out, leaving them standing in abrupt an total silence. Scully felt Mulder's hands enclosing her waist, she leaned back against him instinctively, her mind wandering, stunned. It was Shannon who broke the quiet, her voice surprisingly thin, weedlike. "Test? What test?" Nothing answered. Mulder rested his chin on Scully's head for a moment, then finally answered, philosophically. "I guess we were supposed to stop and help him after all." Scully suddenly found herself smiling. "Creve did say our hearts would be tested, maybe this was what he meant?" She sighed. //I wish Daanna had been able to give us a better sense of what the tests were going to be.\\ She knew it was a lot to ask of a young child, but so much was depending on their success here, and she felt like they were walking in the dark. Mulder pursed his lips thoughtfully. His mind proffered reassurance, even as he replied to her audible question. "Perhaps, but regardless, there are still two more tests to pass. And we've lost some time. Better get moving." There was little more conversation as they mounted their horses and urged the animals down the path. The first test had taken them by surprise. Who knew what lay ahead? - - - - - They ate a quick lunch without stopping, chewing on bread and cheese as they rode as swiftly as they dared. Without knowing what might happen next, they couldn't afford to move too fast, and yet, they needed to make up the time they had lost on that first test. Scully was still worn out from the healing process, and being forced to ride hard after such an expenditure of personal energy was obviously taking its toll on the auburn-haired woman. At times she had to fight to stay upright in her saddle, though she covered as well as she could. Not that Mulder didn't notice instantly, his eyes stayed more with her than with the road ahead. Knowing that he didn't dare call a halt now, Mulder unobtrusively tried to give Scully as much energy as he could, feeding it gently down the lifebond, but it did not take her long to realize what he was doing. //Mulder!\\ she chided him when she realized where her second wind was coming from. She glared at him, but he only smiled sweetly at her. //We can't have you falling out of your saddle in exhaustion. There's no time to stop, so relax and let me help you.\\ //And what if we need you at full strength to pass one of the tests?\\ //I'll manage. This isn't taking much from me. God knows I've got more power than I know what to do with. That's not a problem.\\ Memories flickered in his mind, the ground splitting at his feet, lightning bolts sizzling as they struck, sending villagers scurrying back in sheer terror. Fawnleaf. And then an image from Coldshores, power tingling across every nerve in his body, raging, then releasing, burning as it struck the huddled youths, flashing, then dissolving to leave squalling animals where they had stood. The fear on people's faces... //Mulder!\\ Scully broke in swiftly. //Stop it! It's not your fault and you didn't hurt anyone. You wouldn't.\\ The air crackled around them, surging to whip at their hair and clothes. Bird calls silenced, the entire forest seeming to freeze in anticipation. One of the horses whinnied high, frightened, and Scully grabbed for Mulder's hand. Their skin contacted with a visible flash of blue light, jolting Mulder to awareness. //Shield yourself!\\ Scully demanded and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes, holding tight to the reins to keep the terrified animal under control. Just as suddenly as the world had begun to rage, it stilled. The air settled peacefully around them, the dim light seemed to brighten, sounds began again to filter from the forest, bird calls trilling above their heads. "Mage Mulder, what happened?" Jhorgab yelled out, his eyebrows crawling high above widened eyes. Shannon was already at almost at his side, squeezing her horse in next to his, despite its protests. "Mulder?" she reached out to tug at his sleeve. His eyes were almost a pure ebony when they turned to focus on her face, his face drawn taut, muscles tensing in his jaw, the pulse throbbing in his temples. "Are you okay?" He breathed long and deep before trusting himself to reply. "Yes...I'm all right." He turned to Scully, squeezing her hand. "I'm fine." //Thanks, love,\\ he added silently. She offered him a reassuring smile, holding tight to his hand. He returned the smile, then looked back to Shannon who was watching him anxiously. "Really, I'm *fine.* Just some...bad memories." Shannon nodded, though her gaze was still worried. She looked over to Scully and the other woman nodded. Accepting that Scully knew her bondmate better than anyone, Shannon eased her horse back to ride beside Jhorgab again, and they continued on in silence. - - - - - Mulder's horse reared back, startling him. Crying out in surprise, he fought to regain control. No sooner than his horse had reacted, Scully's did the same, nearly tumbling her from the saddle. Jhorgab and Shannon drew up to a fast halt, calling out in concern. It took a few minutes for Mulder and Scully to get their horses under control. When the animals were finally still, both turned to peer ahead of them down the path. "I don't see anything," Scully said, squinting into the darkness. Mulder's ball of light was floating directly above his head, and he leaned back to look up in its direction. With a quick, muttered instruction, he sent it rolling ahead, but it went no more than a few feet before it bounced back in his direction. Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance, then Scully drew her sword. Turning her horse sideways, she maneuvered the blade forward, more and more, until.... She gasped as the blade struck hard on thin air, the impact reverberating up her arm. She pulled back, then warily pushed the sword forward again, again feeling, rather than seeing, it strike some kind of barrier. "There's something there, Mulder, but I can't see it." Mulder leapt down from his horse, drawing his own sword. Holding it before him, both hands wrapped around the ornate hilt, he repeated Scully's probe, gasping as his blade also met an invisible barrier. Resheathing the sword, he stretched out a hand towards it, eliciting a warning cry from Scully. "Mulder, don't...." But she was too late, his hand was already colliding with the barrier. At his touch it flared to visible life, a violent yellow gleam spreading like wildfire from the point of contact with his hand. The horses reared again, whinnying, while Mulder jerked back, speechless, as the circle of shimmering light grew until it formed a glowing sheet across the path, rising up, reaching out, until it melded into the forest and treetops. "Looks like we found the second test," Mulder said wryly, staring up at it with pure amazement writ large on his face. Scully slid off her horse and joined him, followed quickly by Shannon and Jhorgab. "The question is," she asked, stretching a hand towards it, though not quite touching the sheet of light, "how do we get past it?" "Is it solid?" Shannon asked, her amber eyes bright with curiosity. She stepped forward, only to be held back firmly by Jhorgab. "Don't touch it!" he cried out. "You don't know what it could do!" Mulder shook his head, reaching out to poke at it again. "No, it won't hurt you, but it is solid." His fingers probed at it, sending off blue sparks, and it yielded slightly to his touch. Yielded, but did not give way. He was able to bend it just a little, but then it pushed back, almost elastic, reforming as though he had not made it pucker at all. He tried again, and found it harder this time. He pushed with more force, and it gave way, only to snap back with more solidity. He withdrew his hand and focused his Mage-energy instead. He made a soft probe and it began to give way, so he pushed harder, and suddenly it became more resistant. Gritting his teeth, he pushed even harder, letting the power coil through him and down his arm, pulsing out from his extended fingers. Blue flame hit the wall, and was absorbed into it. The harder he pushed, the stronger the wall seemed to become. "Mulder?" Scully questioned, concerned, but he was getting frustrated. Reaching out a second hand, he pointed fiercely at the glowing wall, power surging through him, crackling across his skin. Thunder sounded, sharp and sudden, the ground shook beneath their feet. Scully cried out, feeling the backwash of the power through their lifebond, sensing its rise, like a mighty waterfall, coursing through every vein and nerve in Mulder's body, building in tension, until it released in a massive flood, arcing from his fingertips to strike the wall with an incredible force. The wall shook, trembled, flickered for a moment, then blazed back to life, sucking up the power Mulder threw in its direction. Scully saw him begin to shake and she reached for him, screaming out his name. Contact with her broke through to him yet again, and he collapsed into her arms, sagging to his knees. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, supporting him as he fought for his breath. Shannon broke forward to help Scully with Mulder, and together, they lifted him to his feet. One arm resting around each of their shoulders, Mulder eyed the wall with frustration. His voice came out harsh, ragged, whistling through his throat. "Somehow it absorbs energy. The harder I push the stronger it seems to get." He frowned, his mind racing. There *had* to be a way to break through it.... Shannon reached out her left hand to poke at the wall gently and it gave way softly. She pressed harder, and it suddenly pushed back at her hand, forcing her to withdraw with a gasp of pain. "Don't..." Scully warned, but Mulder abruptly pulled himself free of them both. Stepping up so close to the wall that he could practically see his breath touch it, he repeated Shannon's gesture, poking softly at the wall. It gave way again until he shoved at it with his palm. It coalesced against his blow, resisting solidly. He poked again, it gave way, he pushed, it resisted. He stepped back. Scully was instantly at his side. Mulder looked down into her anxious face, his eyes gleaming like emeralds. //I know that look...\\ she told him, a slight touch of humor returning. //You've got an idea.\\ He simply nodded, wrapped his arms around her and gave her a quick hug. Then releasing her, he turned and gathered Shannon and Jhorgab closer with a glance. "I think I know how to get through this thing, so I need you to be ready. Gather the horses together and when I tell you, draw them through as quickly as you can. I don't know how long I can hold it, so don't waste any time. Scully, you go with them..." "No way!" she replied firmly. "You know what happens when we get separated. If we ended up on opposite sides of that thing and it closes back up, it might kill us both. Or at least put us both out of commission. I stay with you." Mulder sighed, but had to admit she was right. He swallowed, took a deep breath, then nodded. "All right. Scully stays with me, you two get the horses and yourselves through as soon as I give the word." Shannon and Jhorgab nodded, both of their faces tight with anxiety, then they moved to gather the horses together, each holding reins for two of the uneasy animals. Mulder stepped to the side, Scully staying close to him. He took her hand, then closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Slowly, a small dark circle appeared in the center of the wall. The dark spot grew barely an inch at a time, spreading outward and downward. Mulder's eyes flew open, and his fingers clenched painfully on Scully's. His concentration throbbed in his temples, hardened in his jaw. She could feel his teeth clash against each other as he focused. The dark spot grew gradually, little-by-little, until it formed a rough half-circle against the ground. Mulder's voice issued through gritted teeth, harsh and low. "Go now! Go!" Bolting into action, Jhorgab and Shannon hurried forward, tugging hard on the recalcitrant animals. With some swearing, and a few well-placed kicks, the animals finally jerked forward. Shannon went through first, dragging her horse and Scully's with her. The animals jockeyed for position, obviously terrified of contact with the shimmering barrier. Mulder was still concentrating, widening the gap a spare finger's length at a time. Once Shannon was through, Jhorgab followed, his two horses shooting through to follow the others, whinnying and stamping their feet when they got through to the other side. Never releasing his concentration, Mulder sent Scully a quick image of the two of them darting through the gradually widening hole. She responded with silent assent, and together they moved until they were facing the center of the gap. Moving in perfect symmetry, they dove for the opening, rolling through it, hitting the ground on the other side with jarring impact. No sooner than they had landed, sprawled beside each other on the rough earthen path, the barrier whooshed down to refill the hole, closing them off. "Mulder, Scully, are you all right?" Shannon ran to them, kneeling down to help Scully sit up. Jhorgab followed, chattering nearly senselessly, tugging Mulder up into a sitting position. No sooner than they had caught their breaths, than the glow of the barrier faded and blinked out, leaving no sign it had been there at all. And again a voice boomed out of the air. "The second test is completed. You may pass." - - - - - The forest seemed endless. They rode for what felt like candlemarks, back on that treadmill of brown earth winding between walls of green vegetation. Nerves began to fray, as the anticipation of the final test continued to build. "Do you think we've run out of time?" Shannon broke the silence, staring up at the canopy of trees above their heads. Mulder shook his head. "No, not yet. It's not sunset yet." "How can you tell?" Scully asked, pursing her lips as she stared around them, taking in the dim glow of Mulder's Mage-light as it bounced along before them. "For all we know it could be the middle of the night." "No, it's nearing dusk," Jhorgab said with absolute certainty. The others turned to look at him, and he grinned unabashedly. Rubbing his belly, he sighed. "It's getting close to dinner time. I can always tell." Shannon grinned while Mulder and Scully chuckled. "Now that I'd bet a year's salary on," Mulder replied, before gazing ahead of him with narrowed eyes. "Which means that the third test has to be coming up soon." "I do wish it would hurry up..." Shannon said plaintively. "He's not the only one getting hungry..." Her voice broke off suddenly, and she swiveled in her saddle towards the forest wall. "What is it?" Scully asked, only to sit up straight herself. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus in on the source of the sound. She reined her horse in, feeling Mulder do the same by her side. Again it sounded, softly, like a whisper in the wind. Her name..."Daaannnaaaa," it pleaded. "Mulder, can you hear that?" Scully asked, her entire body tensing. That voice...it couldn't be! And yet, there it was again, louder now, stronger. "Daaannnaaa!" Repeating over and over again, tearing at her senses, tugging at her memories. It couldn't be, and yet... "Daddy?" she whispered. The voice called to her again, and she responded more strongly, crying out into the dense trees, desperately, fearfully, "DADDY!!!" Mulder could faintly hear Scully calling something out, but it didn't make sense. A mischievous breeze played with his hair, tangling with the edges of his cloak, carrying with it a familiar tinkling sound. The high-pitched giggling laughter of a young girl. "Fox," the air murmured into his ears. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come play with me, Foxy..." His heart leapt, his body tensed, his mind swirled. Leaning his head back to scream at the unseen sky, he cried, as he had done so often before...."SAMANTHA!!" The sobbing tore at her heart. Shannon's entire body shook with the anguish of it. The cries rose up into a piercing shriek, then tumbled downward into a harsh groan of agony. Again and again it pounded at her senses, and she struggled desperately to distinguish something sensible from the cries. There, that was her name, she could hear it more clearly now, calling to her. "Shannon...Shannon...Shannon..." Shannon's stomach rose to sit in the base of her throat. No. Dear God, it couldn't be. But the voice came incessantly, pounding at her with its need, its terrible pleading, forcing her blood to pulse with guilt. "Mom?" she whispered. The voice sang out in reply, endlessly sobbing her name, and this time Shannon met it equally, "MOMMY!!!" Jhorgab's ears pricked, and he found himself turning towards the forest edge. His blood ran cold, his skin crawled. Sound beat at the edges of his awareness, slowly coalescing into a twinned cry, two voices, one growling deep, the other sliding high, both calling his name. Voices he hadn't heard since he was barely old enough to walk, voices he was sure he would never hear again. But they were there, calling for him, begging for him to come to them. His hands clenched on his reins, as his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. There, an opening between the trees, and through it, a faint gleam of light. Two figures standing there, one large, the other small, hands outstretched towards him. "Mother, Father?" he whispered, and their voices rose sharp in the wind, drawing on him. Tears stung his eyes, dripping down his coarse, green cheeks, and his voice rose to twine with theirs... "MOTHER, FATHER!!!" Mulder could see her now, a dark figure encased in a field of light, floating gently above the ground. Her hand was outstretched towards him, her dark hair floated around her like an ebony cloak. "Fox," she called out, and he dropped the reins, tensing his body to leap to the ground and go to her. He wouldn't lose her this time, not again. He wouldn't fail her yet again... Again. How many times had he been fooled? How many times had he heard and seen her when it wasn't real? But she was calling to him. This could be her. It *was* her. His Samantha, his little sister, lost and finally found again.... Found again? "No!" he screamed aloud in soul-deep anguish. He covered his ears, a moaning sob escaping his lips. It couldn't be her here. It wasn't possible. But her voice kept coming, even through the palms clamped down over his ears, echoing in the far corners of his mind. "Samantha!" he called again, his eyes squinting as he tried to see, then closing shut in agony. She seemed so *real*. It had to be, he wanted it to be so badly that his entire body ached with the need. But then, he heard an ancient echo in his mind, Scully's voice, challenging him, warning him.... "You believe so deeply that sometimes it's blinding, Mulder...I can respect your passion...but others will use it against you.... The truth is out there, Mulder...but so are lies..." "Nooo!" he screamed, "No! Not again." Squeezing his eyes shut, he reached out instead with his Mage-sight, focusing his power towards the source of that childish voice, trying to *see* the reality of what was there - and finding...nothing. His eyes jerked open, and he saw the figure again, hair whipping around her small body, her hand outstretched towards him. But this time, she was pale and faint, a ghostly shadow of reality. "Samantha..." he sobbed, heartbroken, knowing that this was yet another lie, still wishing with every fiber of his being that he was wrong. That somehow she was there, she was real, and he had found her at last. It wasn't so. It was an illusion, and Fox Mulder had been tricked one time too many. His obsession to find his missing sister never wavered, never lessened, but he'd learned through pain and heartache, loss and devastation, not to accept the appearance over the reality. Closing his eyes, struggling to ignore the voice that tore at his heart and soul, he fought to find his balance. When he opened his eyes again, the image was gone, though the voice still tore at his ears. Then yet another sound broke through his concentration, Scully's voice screaming. "Scully!" he yelled out, finding her staring off into the forest, her entire body tensed into ramrod stiffness. But her voice was filled with a poignantly familiar anguish, and the word she cried stole his breath away. "Daddy!" she sobbed over and over. Releasing her reins, she poised herself to leap off her horse, and realization struck him like a blow in the groin. "No, Scully!!" Mulder grabbed for her, restraining her from getting off her horse, and she turned blindly to strike at him. "No, Scully, it's not real!!" he shouted, trapping her hands in his and pouring his awareness down their lifebond. Her mind was in turmoil, lost in a sea of pain. //No, Mulder, it's my father! He needs me! Let me go!\\ //NO!\\ He was adamant, shouting into her mind. //It's an illusion, Scully. Your father's dead!\\ How he hated saying that to her; how deeply her responding horror beat at his senses. But he held on tightly to her, offering her all the love in the universe, all the caring comfort he could ever offer. //I know you want it to be real, but it's not. Scully, it's not real!\\ She broke into open sobs at the certainty in his mind, and he cradled her as best he could. Somehow reaching her had silenced the voice calling on him, and as hers also stilled, he suddenly heard two more voices crying out in pain. "Shannon...Jhorgab," he breathed, turning to look. Shannon was staring wild-eyed into the forest, and Jhorgab had gone a gray dusky color, his skin bleached nearly as pale as a gargoyle. Forcing Scully to look around, he shouted in her ear. "We've got to get them moving away from here. If they go into the forest, they'll get lost. We're being tricked." Tearstained, still sobbing softly, Scully managed to blink her understanding. He hugged her, then released her, turning his horse to grab for Shannon's abandoned reins. Urging her horse forward, he saw Scully doing the same for Jhorgab, steadying the young troll in his saddle as she pushed their horses into a slow trot. Mulder let them go first, then followed, guiding his horse with his tightly clamped knees, one hand on Shannon's reins the other holding her upright. The next part of the journey was cold and desperate, the wind chilling as it bit at his face, the echoes of voices in the air dragging on him as he forced them onward. Finally, they broke through into a clearing, the road ending at the edge of a small meadow, circular and surrounded by a ring of massive trees. The sense of urgency fled, abruptly, leaving pure exhaustion in its wake. Mulder tumbled from his horse, then ran to catch Shannon as she slid down, nearly senseless into his arms. He half-carried her over to where Scully was settling a trembling Jhorgab down on the grass, then eased down beside the troll. Dropping to his knees, he opened his arms to Scully and she came running into his embrace, nearly knocking him over backwards with the force of her need. He closed his arms around her, and they dropped to lie entangled in the sweet-smelling grass. Time passed, none of them would ever know how long, but the sun stroked them with its warmth, until it began to ease its way downward. The horses grazed happily, and Mulder came to awareness slowly. Sighing, he nuzzled Scully's neck tenderly, eliciting a soft groan of appreciation. She wriggled in his arms, then lifted her head to meet his eyes. "What happened?" she asked, still dazed, her eyes hooded and puffy with weeping. Mulder stroked her hair gently. "I think we just went through the last test, but I'm not sure if we passed or failed." "You passed," an unfamiliar voice interrupted. Mulder and Scully jerked upwards to a sitting position, staring wide-eyed at the figure of a man standing not more than four feet away. "Who are you?" Scully asked, swiping the bright strands of hair out of her eyes. The man sighed, shaking his head. "Who do you think? You came to find me, didn't you? "I am Hannu." End Chapter Sixteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Seventeen So - they had succeeded. Her worst fears had been realized. That moronic rodent had failed her miserably. With an effort she quelled the anger, the frustration. She could not afford to squander the energy she would soon require in such abundance. The Dark Queen sat in her monstrous armchair, feet resting on the footstool in front of her, and willed herself to relax. Two Blue Mages, now in concert. She could hope that the older one would not reveal what he knew, would not unravel the ties that bound the secret to her possible destruction. She could hope. But she was not one to trust in fortune, which had deserted her so often in her life. More importantly than hope, she would plan. She allowed her mind to drift, the thoughts washing over her. The troll was a nothing, a nonentity she could dispose of with a simple spell, perhaps even a thought. The girl - now, she was intriguing, a pretty thing with something about her that commanded respect. But in the end, also easily destroyed. The woman who also dressed as a warrior. The Dark Queen's eyes narrowed. What was her business in this? Never far from the side of the Mage, who seemed to treat her as an equal, the few times she had observed them. Interesting. Her brows furrowed in thought. No, more disturbing than interesting. A puzzle. She sighed impatiently. She was uncomfortable with puzzles. She fully appreciated that knowledge of her enemy was the key to success. Puzzles represented the unknown, and as such, were to be feared. Up until this point, she had been sparing in her use of the sphere to track the travelers. That was a mistake, she now admitted to herself. Although using the sphere to promote the hatred and bloodshed she craved had been rewarding, now it seemed that some of that time would have been better spent in discovering the answers she lacked. For the first time, she regretted her inability to read auras. True, the young Mage's aura would have been visible to a blind man, especially when he was using his impressive powers. But the auras of the others remained a mystery to her. She shifted in her seat, feeling the frustration rise once again. She would have been better off abducting an elf - at least that miserable sort of being would have been useful. Her plan to use the fool Drellor had failed totally. In the beginning it had seemed that he would be the perfect stooge, a fount of valuable information. A dried-up fount, as it turned out, she thought darkly. Her lips curled in contempt. Spiriting that spineless imbecile from his cell had been a complete waste of effort. Then her mouth drew back in a feral smile. No, he would yet serve a purpose, she promised herself with a shiver of anticipation. She did not hunger, which served her well. The violence, once started, fed both itself and her. None of her precious energy had to be diverted merely to satisfy her craving for spilled blood. Just as well. Every bit of her strength would be needed later if she were to fulfill her dream of vengeance. And fulfill it she would. But now to regain her concentration, to rid herself of this nagging, distracting sense of frustration, preferably with as little expenditure of energy as possible. She did not dare to take her mood out on the Mage and his party - not now, not yet. But she wanted her enemies to hurt, just as she had been hurt. In the fullness of time, they would surely suffer as no beings had ever suffered before them. But what to do now to cheer herself, to relieve the stress, so she could devote herself to planning? Idly, she prodded the hematite sphere with a scarlet-taloned finger and a smile slowly curved the edges of her mouth. How were things back at Fairwoods? Certainly she must be able to find some way to reach the catharsis she hungered for. Using a minimum of energy, she cupped the sphere in her palms and muttered the words which would bring her vision. As the images coalesced in her mind, she rapidly scanned those who were most closely allied with this Mage Mulder. Reinald...no, he would require far too much energy. So would the Captain of the Guard and his half-breed wife. Their child - an involuntary shudder shook through the Dark Queen. There was something strange, frightening, powerful about that child. Another puzzle. In the tiny form was a force which must be converted to her side. Or eliminated. She made a mental note. Once she took over and Fairwoods lay in smoking ruins, the child would either follow her or be destroyed. She continued to scan, her scarlet-flecked eyes lighting up as she saw an opportunity. The old healer. There was only a candle's worth of strength there. So easy to extinguish, scarcely an effort at all. She smiled broadly. The grief of her enemies was almost as sweet a dish as bloodshed. She would have her revenge after all. - - - - - "That's it - just one more spoonful," coaxed Kyla. Corvay grimaced, but did as he was bidden and swallowed the broth. "I don't know why you're bothering. We both know I'm dying." "You seem stronger the last couple of days, Healer. And you have much more to teach me. You can't die yet. I won't let you." She turned quickly, less to clear up the remains of the meal than to hide her tear-filled eyes. "Just like a woman," grumbled Corvay, settling back onto the pillow. He knew that any strength perceived had merely been wishful thinking on Kyla's part. Ah, she was a good child - cursed good healer, too. But he was tired, useless, too weak to practice his art. The Next World was waiting, and he was ready. "Would you like me to read to you, Healer, before your last treatment for the night?" Once again, Kyla had regained her apparent serenity. "No, Healer Kyla.... I just want to sleep." Shivering a little, his frail fingers plucked ineffectively at the covers. She leaned over and drew the bedclothes up to his chin. "Not before your treatment, Healer," she said kindly but firmly. He sighed, not having the strength to argue the point. "Very well...." He knew time was short for him, and there were some things he wanted said before his Last Journey. This quiet time with just the two of them seemed like the perfect opportunity. Hesitantly, his voice creaked, "You know, Kyla, I'm very proud of you.... Of all my apprentices, you have learned the most... and served me the best.... I have recommended that Andalor appoint you Court Healer when I am gone." At her exclamation of protest, he shook his head weakly. "It is done. Young Andalor will soon have a wife.... Soon after, children, Goddess be willing.... I can think of no one better to see to the Royal Family's needs...." Tears glistening in her eyes, Kyla whispered, "None of that now, Healer. With some rest and enough healing, you can care for them yourself." Corvay's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "We both know that's not true, child.... Very well, get on with your treatment," he said, knowing it would do more to soothe her mind than to halt the process that was inexorably drawing his life to a close. She placed cool fingers to his temples as he closed his eyes. Entering his body and mind as a healer, she saw that he was correct. It was a matter of days now. She eased his discomfort as best she could and was preparing to withdraw when suddenly something felt...wrong. This was not the normal process of death; this was different. She looked into the frail form, trying desperately to find the source. She was met with a sensation of blackness, of void, of vacuum, coming not from within the tired body of the healer, but from without. The suffocating blackness was a living presence, forcing its way into the old being, choking, crushing. Gasping, she tried to fight it, to banish it from the body and mind of the old healer. But he was too worn to struggle for life, and his chest rose no more. Grief-stricken, she tried to withdraw from the lifeless form, but the blackness was too strong, sucking at her own life-force now. Somewhere far in the distance she heard a knocking sound. She opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound emerged. Further and further she felt herself being drawn into the blackness, into the void, and away from all that was clean and good and bright. She collapsed to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, lungs fighting for air. - - - - - He stood, puzzled, at the door. Surely Kyla and the Royal Healer were inside, he could hear noises. Perhaps Kyla was in the middle of a healing treatment and could not answer. She would not mind if... Tentatively, Pitir pressed the latch and swung the door open. His eyes widened in horror. "Kyla! Goddess, no!" He turned his head and yelled out into the courtyard. "Guards! Bring help, bring Mage Reinald!" Heart pounding, he darted into the cottage to the healer's side, and pulled her hands from Corvay's body. Senseless, Kyla sank to the floor, her head cradled in Pitir's arms. Moments later, Jourdain and Aldara rushed into the little cottage, followed by Reinald a few moments later. A cluster of guards stood outside, awaiting orders. The Mage recoiled at the stench of the Black Arts, which filled the room. "What happened?" he demanded. Pitir looked up from Kyla's inert form, stunned. "Mage, I was coming to check on Healer Corvay as you instructed. There was no answer to my knock, but I heard strange noises from inside, so I opened the door. Kyla was collapsed over the healer, her hands still placed as if for a healing treatment, but it was as if she were frozen there. It took all my strength to pull her hands away." He hesitated, then said, "Mage, Healer Corvay has gone on to the Next World." Reinald approached the still form of his friend, laying his hand briefly on the old healer's head, squeezing back the tears that threatened to fall. He offered up a prayer to the Goddess to look after the feisty elf in the Next World, then let his hand fall limply to his side. In a tight voice, he said, "Healer Corvay was murdered." His words rocked his friends, assembled in the tiny room. "What? Surely you're not suggesting that Kyla-" began Jourdain, horrified. The Mage shook his head wearily. "No, of course not." He reached for a nearby armchair and lowered himself heavily into it. "Black magic has been at work here. It has stolen our trusted friend away from us. And if Kyla was in a healing trance with him when it happened, I know not what its effects on her might be." Pitir smoothed the heavy flaxen hair back from Kyla's pale, still face. She felt cold to his touch. "Mage Reinald, perhaps if we could get her comfortable, warm her...." "Yes, yes by all means. Bring her into the keep, where she may be attended to closely. Put her in Shannon's room for now." He stopped, gazing at the empty shell who had been his friend, who had been such a force in life. "Don't worry, Reinald. I'll prepare him myself," said Aldara gently. Corvay's body would have to be washed and shrouded in a precise manner according to ancient custom before the funeral took place. Reinald nodded mutely, but his eyes reflected gratitude. Aldara would perform the ritual with the love and respect that Corvay had earned. Guards were summoned to carry Kyla's limp form across the courtyard to the keep, closely followed by an anxious Pitir. The Mage stood and looked towards the door. "Jourdain, we'll meet in my chambers in a candlemark. I need...some time alone right now." The grizzled warrior looked with sympathy and affection on his friend, and followed him out of the little cottage, leaving Aldara to her task. - - - - - A candlemark later, a solemn assemblage sat beside Reinald's hearth, chilled in a way no fire could warm. Tarnor and the Professor had joined the group who came from the cottage. Aldara was the last to arrive. "Corvay has been prepared for the Last Journey, Mage. The High Priestess, Anatha, herself, assisted me! She stands watch over him, praying to the Goddess for his safe passage into the Next World." "His pyre is being constructed by my guards, overseen by another priestess," added Jourdain. "All will be ready for the Leaving Ceremony tomorrow." "Thank you, my friends," Reinald said quietly. "It appears the only comfort we have now is in honoring the memory of the Court Healer, performing the rituals.... But little comfort it is." Aldara nodded. "How's Kyla?" "Healer Sirisa is with her now," replied Pitir. "She says that Kyla's life-force is dangerously low, but she has no idea what caused it." The Mage-apprentice sadly returned to making tea. Kyla was his only real friend, and the object of a powerful adolescent crush. Her collapse was hitting the little troll very hard. "Reinald, I know now may not seem like the time to discuss this. But I would not be doing my job if I didn't tell you that Corvay's murder has me very disturbed," Jourdain said, frowning into his tea mug. "Not only because we have lost our friend, but because of what you discerned in his cottage." "Black magic?" He nodded. "Reinald, think about it. If a Black Mage can reach in and take our friend from our midst, how safe is any one of us?" The enormity of the problem came to the Mage in a flash of recognition. "By the Goddess, you're right, Jourdain," he breathed, shaken. "My emotions about Corvay's death must have blinded me. The king - he above all must be protected!" "As if things aren't in a big enough mess right now, with villagers at each other's throats, and the Royal Houses stirring up trouble.... Now this." Tarnor shook his large gray head, the leathery skin of his brow furrowing. "Reinald, there must be something we can do. What about communicating with Mulder and Scully through the Oracle Cloud?" Reinald sighed. "I thought of that. But to what purpose? Telling them of our friend's passing will just upset them, especially Warrior Healer Scully. And when Mage Mulder learns of the cause...." He shook his head, his white hair and beard bobbing. "No, I dare not distract them right now. They are very headstrong and courageous, perhaps too much so. Especially Mulder, who tends to act as much based on his heart as on his head at times. If they feel our urgency, they may take too great a risk and put themselves in greater danger. We can only hope that they are nearing their objective, that they are close to finding Hannu and are pursuing the answers we need. If things become worse, we will contact them. For now, I would prefer to wait." "I agree," said the Professor grimly. "And if they haven't reached Hannu, there isn't much they'll be able to do about our situation anyway. The trip back to Fairwoods would take too long." Neumann smiled sadly. "Also, I must say, I really don't have the heart to hear if they have not reached their objective. Or worse, if they have evidence that Hannu not longer exists. My hope in them and their mission is all that keeps this situation from being intolerable." "Aye, there's that," Jourdain replied, heavily. "All right, what can we do to protect ourselves from an unseen enemy who appears to have unlimited power?" He glanced over at Reinald, who appeared deep in thought, staring into the distance. Then the Mage shook himself, and looked at his companions with a new sense of purpose. "Tarnor, what are your plans for the next several days?" Reinald asked, tension plain in his voice. "I'm at your disposal, of course, Mage. You have an idea?" "I can't do it alone. In fact, I'm not certain I can do it at all," he said with an apologetic smile. "What I propose is trying to construct a shield for the keep. This has never been done, but I think, theoretically, it can be. An extension of the personal protection spell," he explained to Tarnor. "It would have to be renewed frequently, and would take an enormous amount of power." Tarnor looked the Mage directly in the eyes. For several moments, there seemed to be a silent conversation that took place between them. "Yes, I see," he said slowly. "We would have to move everyone we could into the castle." Reinald agreed. "Jourdain, I want you and Aldara and your daughter to move in immediately. Make arrangements for Lord Mandor and his family also - we can't have the future queen's parents targeted by our enemy. They can join Livirnea in the quarters she has been using. Handpick your best guards and have them take positions in and around the keep. The security of the king must be the first priority. The Realm is hanging by a thread, and only Andalor's presence is preventing a total collapse into anarchy and chaos." "You are no less important, Reinald," Aldara stated firmly. "If anything happens to you, we lose what protection we have." "We will cast the spell in the king's quarters. Its effects will be strongest there. Aldara, find quarters for your family near his, which will afford the most protection. Your daughter must also be guarded closely. She seems to have more insight into our enemy - this "dark lady" of her dreams - than anyone at the moment. Have beds moved into reception rooms if necessary. And don't worry, Aldara, my quarters will also have sufficient protection," Reinald said. "This may not work; even if it does, it may not be strong enough to withstand a concerted effort against us by our enemy. But it's the only thing we can do until we hear from Mulder and Scully." Jourdain and Aldara stood. "We'll see to it right away, Mage Reinald." The door shut behind them. "If I can be of any help...?" Professor Neumann offered. "Just like old times, eh?" smiled Reinald. "Thank you, Gunther. I'd like you to work with Tarnor and myself. We will need to find a way to enhance the protection spell to cover more area and more beings than it was ever meant to cover. Between your science and our magic, we may find a way to keep everyone safe for now. Pitir, help the Professor bring any equipment he needs here." The tall, gaunt human and the stocky troll left on their errand. The two Mages surveyed each other quietly. Finally, Reinald said, "I appreciate your not being your usual candid self with our friends. I hesitate even to ask you to help with this - you know what it could mean better than anyone else." "I understand, Reinald. We will be using an untested spell of enormous power. The danger to the both of us is obvious, the risk of failure is too high, the chance of success lower than we would choose. At best, it will leave both of us seriously drained." His mouth opened into a pointy-toothed grin. "When do we start?" Reinald looked with affection at the gargoyle. "Again you prove your seemingly limitless courage." Tarnor laughed, and waved dismissively. "Or foolhardiness. But have we really any choice? What's our alternative - to sit here as a Black Mage picks us off, one by one? And turns our land into a battlefield? No. 'No way,' as Andalor would say. Reinald, we can only hope that Mulder and Scully complete their mission successfully, and work as hard as we can to keep everything safe until they return." The older Mage nodded. "But unless the Professor can come up with a miracle, even if the spell works we will not be able to sustain it for more than a week or so. We could be more than 'seriously drained' by this, Tarnor." He looked at the gargoyle meaningfully. "I know," he said softly. "So be it." - - - - - Andalor stopped abruptly in the hall. He had been on the battlements, looking out on his troubled kingdom and wishing the one person who could make him feel better were by his side. Finally, after staring out over the darkened forest and sleeping village for more than a candlemark, he sighed and descended the winding stone staircase. He was on his way to Reinald's quarters when he heard noises coming from Shannon's chamber. Heart pounding, feeling a lightening of his mood, he tapped and pushed open the heavy wooden door in the same movement. "Shannon! You're ba-" The king stopped dead. A troubled, middle-aged woman in the brown robes of a healer stood next to the high Realm bed. His chest constricted painfully. Goddess, something had happened to Shannon! He was halfway across the room before he noticed that the still form in the bed was not the dark-tressed Shannon, but Kyla. He took a moment to compose himself. He had gone from exhilaration to terrible disappointment to terror in the space of a single breath. When he was sure he could trust his voice, he said, "I beg your pardon, Healer Sirisa. I thought for a moment Shannon had returned. But what has happened to Kyla?" The woman merely shook her head slowly. "Your Majesty, I would urge you to see Mage Reinald. There has been...a tragedy." Andalor's violet eyes stared at the woman. Goddess - Mulder and Scully and Shannon! They must have been lost, killed on their journey to save his Realm. Why else would this chamber be used by another? Choking back a sob, he turned and ran blindly from the room, the echo of his pounding feet reverberating through the stone corridors all the way to Reinald's quarters. Pale, sweating, he skidded to a halt as Tarnor was emerging from the Mage's chamber. "Tell me what has happened," he demanded. "I must know!" Tarnor turned questioning eyes to the Mage. Surely Corvay had been beloved, but he had not expected the king to be this distraught by the old healer's death. "Healer Corvay died this night, Andalor. He was killed by the Black Arts. And Kyla has been effected in some way." The young man stared blankly at the gargoyle and his former guardian. "Corvay? Corvay...Kyla... But what about....?" They returned his blank stare. Suddenly he began to tremble and reached out to the doorway to steady himself, his knees weak. "Wait! Your Majesty, what's wrong? Tarnor, help me get him to a chair, I think he's about to faint!" The two Mages half- carried, half-dragged the young man to one of the armchairs by the hearth. Tarnor made up a restorative brew while Reinald fanned the face of the semi-conscious king, feeling helpless. Within moments, the young man's color improved a little and he began to stir. "I'm sorry, Andalor, I had no idea you would take the news of Corvay's death this hard. Granted, we knew life was slowly leaving him, but to have been murdered in this way...." "What?" Patiently, Reinald repeated, "Corvay was murdered. By the same enemy who is turning our beings against one another. And by the same means - black magic. I thought you knew . I thought that was why you were so upset." Reinald took a seat and motioned for Tarnor to do so as well. The young man sat, his mind reeling. "No. No, I didn't know. Healer Sirisa said merely that there had been a tragedy and I needed to see you, but she was in Shannon's room, and Kyla was there, and I thought..." The three sat in stunned silence for several moments. "If you'll excuse me, Reinald, Your Majesty," Tarnor said, rising. "I'll just go...um...help the Professor with his things." He left the two alone for what he knew would be a talk they would prefer to keep private. The old Mage nodded. "Thank you, Tarnor." Turning to the king, he said gently, "You thought Shannon was the one in the bed, that she'd been hurt." "Dead," Andalor replied dully. "I thought she was dead. I thought they all were." His voice caught and he struggled to keep his emotions under some semblance of control. Reinald stood and walked to a window, looking out until the young man had recovered. His back still turned to the king, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Andalor. I knew that you had some feelings for Shannon, but I was hoping this separation would have perhaps caused them to fade. I didn't know they were so strong." The young man laughed bitterly. "Neither did I. I knew I felt something, but.... When I thought she was...gone - Goddess, Reinald, I felt I wanted to die myself!" "Well, rest easy on that score. As far as I know, Shannon is fine. I haven't heard from Mulder so I can only assume things are proceeding as planned." He was silent for several long moments. "Little wonder you resisted the betrothal. I thought you just resented our way of doing things, your duty to the Realm once again interfering with your wishes. I owe you a huge apology, Andalor." He shook his head. "As I said, Reinald, I wasn't sure of how I felt until tonight. And it still doesn't change anything, does it?" "No, I'm afraid not," Reinald replied bleakly. "But two season-cycles is a long time - much may happen." "That's what Livirnea and I are hoping." "Livirnea? She doesn't want to marry you?" The Mage turned, incredulous, and sat again at the king's side. "She doesn't want to marry anyone, not at the moment anyway. She wants to study. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you if we could get the Professor to give her lessons. She's very intelligent, Reinald. I think she would make an excellent scientist someday." He smiled at his former guardian, who stared dejectedly into the fire. "You didn't do as badly as you may think. Livirnea is a wonderful person, and we're becoming good friends. But I will never feel about her as I do about Shannon." "And how does Shannon feel about you?" "I don't know," the king admitted. "I know when we were in Mulder's world, she thought I was a dweeb at first." "Is a 'dweeb' a good thing?" He laughed, his violet eyes sparkling. "No, a 'dweeb' is definitely not a good thing." He sobered. "But just before she left, I think we were starting to connect. Become more than just good friends. Reinald, do you think there's any chance at all?" "As you know, I'm fond of Shannon, I think she's a fine young lady. But regardless of how I feel about her, I doubt if she would ever be acceptable to the Council of Representatives, Andalor. That would take the work of the Goddess herself. Not to mention what Lord Mandor would do in retaliation for spurning his daughter. I don't know. We have to get through the current crisis first." Andalor sighed. "I know. Announcing my betrothal didn't seem to make a bit of difference - everyone is still trying to kill everyone else. And now Corvay - I'm so sorry, Reinald. I know he was your oldest friend." "He's just always been here. Life will be very strange without him." Reinald looked into the fire. "The Leaving Ceremony will be tomorrow. Immediately after, Tarnor and I are going to try to set up a shield that will protect Fairwoods Castle and everyone in it." "Can you do that?" Reinald shrugged. "We have to do something. There's nothing to prevent our enemy from using the Black Arts against any one of us. The casting of the spell will be dangerous and rather exhausting, Andalor. Once the spell is in place, you will not be able to rely on me for advice. Go to Mandor should you need counsel. I trust him." He smiled wryly. "It might be an idea if you keep your feelings about Shannon to yourself, however." The king nodded. "But please be careful, Reinald. I could not bear to lose you." "I'll be careful." For just a moment, an old hand rested on a young one. Then the two troubled men gazed into the fire, guarding their thoughts, their hopes, and their dreams. - - - - - The travelers just stared. Finally, the doubts had been satisfied. Hannu was slightly taller than Mulder. There was not a bit of extra weight on his big frame. His hair, probably once dark, was quite long and almost completely silver. His long beard and luxurious mustache were a salt and pepper color. Unlike the majority of Mages who carried the pallor of working indoors most of the time, he was tanned and appeared to be in robust health. "Mage Hannu, you don't know how good it is to see you," Mulder began, smiling. The Mage nodded shortly. "Leave the horses. I'll have someone come back for them. Follow me. It's still a long walk to the village." He turned and began walking down the narrow path. His tone was distant, almost cold. The bondmates exchanged quizzical glances, then looked encouragingly at Shannon and Jhorgab as they removed their saddlebags from their mounts. "You heard what the man said - let's go," Scully said. "There may even be food in it for you, Jhorgab." She smiled at them, but she was worried. Their greeting was certainly not effusive, and for the first time she wondered if their journey had been in vain. Yes, against all odds, they had found Hannu - but would he help them? They shouldered their belongings, then rushed to catch up with Hannu, following him through the forest along a tortuous maze of trails. Hannu moved quickly, with more grace than would be expected in such a tall, powerfully built man. The woods were filled with birdsong and the rustle of small animals disturbed by their passage. Eventually, the path began to widen, less obstructed with the surrounding underbrush and overhanging tree limbs, worn hard and flat by generations of use. It climbed gradually, then took a hard turn to the right. A clearing came into view, and beyond that, a village. Smoke rose from the chimneys of perhaps two dozen wooden cottages, all with thatched roofs. A few residents were out and about their business, mostly elves, but with an occasional human. There was even one type of being new to the travelers. Hannu came to a stop at last, surveying the quiet, well-ordered village. "This is Montveil," he said in a deep, well-modulated voice, then set off at a slower pace down the slope of the clearing that surrounded the small town. Each being they encountered as they walked along the packed earth of the road called out or waved to Hannu, apparently comfortable in his presence, with none of the awe that powerful Mages usually engendered. Hannu smiled and waved back, sometimes returning their greeting in New Realm or in a language Mulder and Scully didn't recognize. He seemed at home, comfortable, cordial; an altogether different side to the rather remote person who had met them in the forest. He stopped in front of a cottage indistinguishable from the others, aside from the fact it was set slightly apart from its neighbors. A small vegetable garden prospered to one side of the cottage, an herb garden to the other. Hannu opened the heavy wooden door and ushered them inside. "Please have a seat." He started the ubiquitous ritual of making tea. Mulder and Scully chose armchairs placed side by side at right angles to the hearth. Shannon chose one opposite to theirs, and Jhorgab squatted at her feet. Scully looked around the simple room. Gleaming copper pots and pans hung on the stone facade over the fireplace, and handloomed rugs in brilliant colors covered the hardwood floors. The stucco walls were whitewashed, reflecting the light of the fire and the myriad of candles dotted around the room. The huge bookcase that took up the far wall had caught Mulder's notice. Scully smiled. She knew only strict Realm etiquette prevented him from bounding over to check out the titles - that, and the fact that she would have to bound over with him. Throughout their walk through the forest they had maintained physical contact, now finding it nearly impossible to do otherwise. She stroked his arm absently and his hand, laying gently on her knee, returned the gesture. Hannu stole occasional glances at his guests as he went about his task. Strange. Their auras were so strange. An extremely powerful Mage. A woman with a dual aura, warrior and healer, a combination he had never seen before. The two were lifebonded, if the streaks of blue in her aura and the very faint brown-green in his were any indication. Then there was the young, pretty girl, who had such a commanding presence. Her aura contained touches of Mage blue, but of a different tone than Mage Mulder's, swirled in her warrior green aura, another rare combination. Could they be apparitions, phantoms created by his enemy? Surely they had passed the tests, passed them with ease. But his enemy had nearly unlimited power. In spite of all the safeguards, could she have created them or their strange auras to cover the telltale stain of the Black Arts? He passed out the mugs of tea - the invigorating kind - and seated himself in the chair to Shannon's left. Finally, Mulder thought. Maybe now we can start getting some answers. He cleared his throat and began. "We're here on a twofold mission, Mage Hannu. The Realm is in serious trouble, torn apart we believe by a Black Mage of incredible power. Throughout our journey, we've been obstructed by the same source, with numerous attempts on our lives. We've come to you to enlist your help in discovering how we can stop the violence and bloodshed rife in the Realm." Hannu was silent for several moments, his face giving nothing away. "Why would you come to me for that?" Mulder's heart sank. Hannu wasn't going to help them. All this way, this grueling journey, all the danger - for nothing. He and Scully looked at each other, their bond communicating their devastation. What would happen to the Realm? What would happen to them? Seeing their crestfallen expressions, he explained, "What I meant was, how did you know of me? Few outside of Montveil even know I still exist." Relief washed over the bondmates. "It was really more wishful thinking than anything, Mage Hannu," replied Scully. "At least at the beginning. Our direction was determined mostly by rumor and legend. As we got closer, however, the attempts against our lives increased. So we reasoned that we must be on the right track. The first time we had any proof that you actually existed was in Peaksview. We had let it be known we were seeking you, and we were approached by an elderly elf named Laira. She directed us to the village Mage in Treetops, and, well, I guess you know the rest." "You came all this way, faced danger at the peril of your lives? All based on wishful thinking?" he asked incredulously. Then he chuckled dryly. Surely they must be telling the truth. His enemy would have supplied her minions with a better story than that. Besides, their auras burned with a steady light - no tell-tale wavering. "All right. Suppose you start by telling me who you are." "My apologies, Mage Hannu. I am Mulder, this is Scully. Next to you is my halla, Shannon. And on the other side of her is Jhorgab, who has been our guide." "And you are a Mage yourself - of some power, from what I can see." Mulder nodded. "We come from Fairwoods Demesne, from King Andalor himself, and the Royal Mage Reinald, who ask for your assistance. Evidently you can read auras." "Fairly well, for a human. Enough to discern something else, unless my eyes are deceiving me. You and Scully are lifebonded." "Yes, we are lifebonded," replied Scully. "Mulder said that our mission is two-fold. The affairs of the Realm take precedence, of course. But our lifebond is...causing a problem. We understand that lifebonding among Mages is unknown, so no one could help us. You see, it started as some vague symptoms that would develop in both of us when we'd be separated by distance. The greater the distance and the more time we were separated, the worse the symptoms became. But the problem has become increasingly more difficult and lately the effects have been more pronounced. At this point we must stay in constant physical contact, or be overcome with dizziness, nausea, weakness, lack of concentration, up to and including complete collapse. Neither of us can afford this in our work, and no one can tell us what to do because no one has encountered a lifebonded Mage before." "I can see where it would be an impediment. But what makes you think I know any more about it than anyone else?" He looked thoughtful. "It's growing late, and I'm sure you are weary from your journey. I'm going to make some arrangements for you for the night. I'll return shortly." With that, he rose and left the cottage. "Well, what do you think?" asked Mulder of his companions. "I think I'm hoping he brings back food," said Jhorgab wistfully. Scully grinned at the little troll. "We'll see to it that you're fed. If nothing else presents itself, we'll go buy some food and cook it ourselves." "That's odd." Mulder looked pensive. "What's odd?" "Scully, did you notice any shops as we walked through the village?" She frowned. "Now that you mention it, no, I didn't. Unless they sell things directly from their homes," she said doubtfully. "I don't think so. All the gardens I saw were only large enough to sustain a single household - not nearly big enough to produce a market-sized crop. There are no outbuildings large enough to house cattle or horses, and the fields didn't have many animals grazing in them. And the path here! Think about it - we couldn't even bring the horses through. It's way too twisting and narrow for wagons. In fact, I didn't see a single wagon in the village. In view of all the secrecy surrounding Hannu's existence, it would make sense...." His voice trailed off. "What would make sense?" asked Shannon, bewildered. "You lost me." She looked at Jhorgab and Scully who seemed equally confused. "I'll bet anything this place isn't on any of the trade routes. I think that this village has sealed itself off from the rest of the world, that it's totally self-sufficient because it doesn't want to mix with others." "Or perhaps Hannu has forced it to be that way," suggested Scully. "Well, I hope not, but that's a possibility," Mulder said slowly. "How the hell did you manage to notice so much on a short walk?" He shrugged. "It's not like our happy host was chatting our ears off. I had to do something." "He's not what I expected," admitted Scully. "Do you think he's going to help us?" "He's certainly playing his cards close to his chest. I don't know. Maybe he still isn't sure of us, doesn't want to commit to anything until he has us checked out." "I would think that all those tests would be enough," declared Shannon, scowling. "What's next - Chinese water torture or something? He's weird. I feel like he's holding us at arm's length. It's like he has a deep dark secret he's afraid we'll find out, or is trying to forget himself." //Out of the mouths of babes....\\ Mulder's thoughts transferred easily to Scully. She looked at him. //I notice you said nothing about our not being from around here.\\ //Why introduce something that's just going to make him more suspicious and paranoid? If we have to later, fine, but I see no reason to bring it up if it's not germane.\\ //Unless our little problem is caused by our being from another world.\\ //Hmmm, possible. Well, let's hold off as long as we can.\\ //Yes, you're right.\\ She paused for a moment, then added, her mind-voice uncertain. //The weird thing is that there's something faintly familiar about him, Mulder. Almost as though I've seen him before....\\ //That doesn't seem likely,\\ Mulder replied, though his curiosity was clearly piqued. He trusted Scully's intuition even more than his own. //But give it some time, maybe it will come to you later...\\ Their conversation was ended when Hannu again entered the cottage. "I have arranged places for you to stay the night. You must forgive us - we're not very accustomed to visitors." "I can believe that," Shannon muttered under her breath. "The troll - Jhorgab? You will stay with Lohrat. He is the griltewy you may have seen on the way in." "Griltewy? I'm terribly sorry, Mage but I am unfamiliar with that particular being. Not that I have any objections, you understand, indeed, I thank you and Lohrat for your hospitality, but I should not like to offend him accidentally." Jhorgab paused for breath, then spoke his mind. "Do you know - has he eaten yet?" Hannu laughed, a pleasant sound, but one that sounded little used, and out of practice. "I think you and Lohrat will get along fine. And I believe he is just setting out plates for dinner. His is the third cottage on the left as you go up the road." "Just a moment, Mage Hannu," said Mulder firmly. "With all due respect, we've been through hell and back again, and we've done it together. I think we'd all feel more comfortable staying together." He looked to his companions, who nodded vigorously. "I'm afraid that will not be possible," Hannu replied, smiling coolly. "As you can see, we live simply here. Our homes are small, certainly too small to host four guests. My neighbors are quite anxious to help out, and are more than happy to take one or two of you. I assure you that you have nothing to fear here. Certainly, if you have really been through the horrors of which you spoke, a night separated by a few meters should not hold any terrors?" Mulder managed to maintain his outward calm, but inwardly he fumed. For days they had been pursued, tried, tricked and tested. The last, the most harrowing and cruel test of all, a test from which even now none of them had completely recovered. Lips tight, he looked at Scully. //He has us by the short hairs. If we insist on being together, it makes us look like boorish cowardly liars. I don't like it. We didn't go through what we did to be treated this way.\\ //Believe me, I like it less than you do. This guy could play chess like a master. But I really don't see what else we can do, Mulder.\\ She looked at Hannu appraisingly, then gave a mental nod to her bondmate. Coldly, he said, "All right, Mage Hannu. It appears unavoidable." He turned to Jhorgab, who was dancing in anticipation of his dinner. "Go to Lohrat's, Jhorgab. We'll be within shouting distance if you need us." His glare pierced the strange Mage. Without another word, the little troll was out the door and bustling toward Lohrat's cottage. Hannu bowed slightly and smiled. "Lady Shannon. You will stay with Jasta, our village healer, the next cottage up from Lohrat." He looked at Mulder who was clearly not happy about the state of affairs. "I understand you feel your responsibilities to your halla, Mage Mulder, but I assure you that Jasta is completely trustworthy." He looked toward Shannon. "She's expecting you. Will this be satisfactory?" "It's okay," said Shannon decisively. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your kindness, Mage Hannu." Drawing her weapons belt a little tighter around her, she walked up the road to find the healer's cottage. Mulder's eyes never left the girl until he saw an elderly elf open the door to her cottage to greet her, and Shannon wave back at him before entering. "A lovely girl. You're very lucky, Mage Mulder," Hannu said wistfully. Suddenly he seemed softer, more vulnerable, more human. "Thank you. What did you have in mind for Scully and myself? I understand we're putting your people out. If we have to sleep outside, even at Lohrat's or Jasta's, that's fine," Mulder said. It was his last card in a poor hand. Hannu smiled. "That won't be necessary. One of our people is away on a brief errand. He won't mind if you use his cottage, just next door." The Mage led the way to the little cottage about thirty meters away from his, and opened the door. "Jasta will bring you your evening meal, and there's some bread and cheese on the table. I'll see you in the morning." "Wait!" protested Scully. "What about -" "These things cannot be rushed, Warrior Healer Scully," Hannu said, pleasantly but firmly. "There's nothing we're going to accomplish tonight, in any event. We'll speak again in the morning." He shut the door behind him. "Son of a bitch," commented Mulder. "Well, it appears we have some time to kill. Any thoughts?" A roguish smile lit up Mulder's face as he folded Scully into his arms. They were just starting to really enjoy killing time, when there was a perfunctory knock at the door and Shannon walked in bearing a pot of soup. "Eat it while it's hot," she announced. "Oh, have I come at a bad time - again?" The emphasis was on the last word, and she grinned as they blushed. "Are you going to join us?" Scully asked, taking some bowls from a shelf. "No thanks, Jasta's waiting for me." "Is everything all right over there? Any funny feelings or anything? I do trust your intuition, you know." Mulder said. "No, Jasta's very nice. And I peeked in the window of Lohrat's cottage on the way over and he and Jhorgab seemed to be having a great time. What's a griltewy, anyway?" Mulder shrugged. "Other than the fact they are small, round and orange, I really have no idea. Maybe Jhorgab can fill us in tomorrow." "Did Hannu say anything more about helping us?" "Unfortunately not," replied Scully. "I think he's having us checked out. With whom I have no idea, but it seems the owner of this cottage had to take a very hasty trip, no doubt inspired by Hannu. I hate to waste time, but we really can't rush things, Shannon. We have to get Hannu on our side. Though at this point, I would enjoy knocking him on his ass." "Let me help." She hesitated, then said, "Mulder...my mother...it seemed so real." The tall Mage crossed to her and put his arms around her. "I know, baby. All of us were rocked, believe me. I think I'd rather face brigands or woodscats than go through that again." She quieted in his arms, then drew back. "Well, I'd better get going." "If you feel the slightest bit nervous about where you are, don't hesitate to come back here," said Mulder advisedly. "I honestly don't think it's going to be necessary. In spite of Hannu acting like a creep, Jasta really seems wonderful. She kind of reminds me of Corvay. I don't expect I'll come flying back here in the middle of the night with tales of terror." The girl went to the door. "And besides - think of what I might be interrupting!" Her musical laugh followed her out. End of Chapter Seventeen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eighteen The morning skies were dark with heavy clouds, matching the mood of the crowd that gathered in a circle in the field west of Fairwoods Keep. In the center of the circle was a tall wooden pyre, its foundations piled high with kindling and logs. At the top, Corvay's tiny body was shrouded, wrapped in consecrated cloth and covered with lashella vines. Anatha and Reinald stood at either end, each holding a torch. The crowd was silent, except for a few sniffles and an occasional muffled sob. Anatha looked at the gathering with a serene expression. "We assemble today to speed our friend Corvay on his Last Journey. Knowing Corvay, the last thing he would have wanted was a fuss." There were a few smiles now, as mourners remembered the feisty old elf. "But it would not be a fitting memorial to our friend if we didn't make at least a small celebration of his life, of his work, of his gifts to all of us. Corvay had been around Fairwoods for as long as all of us can remember, for as long as our parents and even our grandparents can remember. Indeed, we were blessed by his presence for longer than we had a right to expect. Still, his passage to the Next World leaves a hole that will never be completely filled by another. The time for memory-speaking has come." She stood to one side and held out the torch. The crowd assembled into a single queue, the high-born lining up behind the peasant and the shopkeeper. For the moment, interspecies suspicion and hatred were forgotten, as troll stood with human, and human stood with elf. One by one they advanced, to take the proffered torch and speak their words of remembrance. "Corvay saved my son's life," declared a withered old troll in a wavering voice. "All hope was gone. The healer spent days and nights pouring over his books, trying to determine the cause of my son's illness, gathering herbs, even sending runners to distant places to find the rarest of ingredients for his potions. Then one night, my little boy was struggling for every breath, and we feared each might be his last. Suddenly, Healer Corvay burst through the door to our cottage with a steaming draught. Ach, it smelled terrible! But he coaxed it down Labi's throat, drop by drop, and sat with him through the night. When the morning dawned, Labi was sitting up in bed, calling for his breakfast. My son is a grandfather now. Corvay gave him his whole life." She passed the torch to the next in line, Aldara, with Jourdain and Daanna by her side. "Corvay brought our daughter into the world. It was a long and difficult birth, and many despaired for both my life and our child's. Corvay was there throughout it all, encouraging, scolding, healing - being whatever he needed to be at the moment to ensure that our daughter would live to see daylight." Aldara choked, her emerald eyes streaming hot tears. Jourdain patted her shoulder, then took the torch from her. "Healer Corvay saved my life more than once, but no more so than the day he saved my wife and daughter. May the Next World be as good to him as he has been to us." An elf eagerly accepted the torch from his hand. Andalor stood next in line, awaiting his turn. On and on it went, a litany of Corvay's selflessness, his irascible personality. Stories of his skill and his empathy, his ready friendship. How he healed the sick, eased pain, brought life into the world, and allowed the dying to slip gently through his hands to begin their Last Journey without suffering. Noble stories and funny ones, carved in the memories of the mourners like letters upon a stone tablet. At last, the final speaker placed the torch back into Anatha's hands. "The honor of lighting the way of the Last Journey belongs to the Royal Mage Reinald, Healer Corvay's oldest friend." At the other end of the pyre, Reinald was silent for some moments. Then, in a clear, strong voice he said, "Corvay lived a life of usefulness and quiet dignity, of unswerving loyalty and steadfast friendship. We owe him a debt we can never repay. Of course, if he were here, he would say that was nonsense." A few in the crowd chuckled, others nodded, smiling. Reinald's own smile faded. "My only regret is that his most devoted pupils, Healer Kyla and Warrior Healer Scully, and his favorite patient, Mage Mulder, cannot be here to see him on his way. In their names, and with gratitude for his life, I bid my cherished friend an easy journey to the Next World." He raised the torch, touched it to some kindling, and stepped back. The dry wood caught immediately. It quickly spread to envelop the pyre in a sea of flame. Fragrant smoke from the profusion of lashella vines permeated the air. Overhead, a single bolt of lightning forked through the skies, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to withdraw, leaving only High Priestess Anatha and the grieving Mage. Tears welling in his eyes, he gazed upon the pyre, and his lips moved. "Goodbye, my old friend." - - - - - Tarnor waited nervously in Andalor's quarters, fiddling with sheets of parchment and lending a hand occasionally to the Professor, who was bent over his pots and wires near the hearth. By the windows, Andalor paced restlessly. The tall windows admitted little brooding light, the chamber dim enough for Dorbo to begin to light the torches on the walls. "Sire, why don't you withdraw to Reinald's chamber, or Lord Mandor's," the gargoyle suggested gently. "Reinald is not going to want you here when we cast the spell." "He's taking Corvay's death hard, Tarnor, very hard. Can't this spell casting wait a few days? He said it's going to be exhausting, and the healer's death has already drained him. I'm worried about him." Andalor threw himself into a chair. "I know, Your Majesty. But this can't wait. Our enemy could strike any one of us at any time. He won't get any rest until he knows that you're beyond reach. Your being here is just going to distract him. Ah! Here he is." Reinald appeared to have aged ten season-cycles in the space of a day. He turned suspiciously bright eyes on the king as Andalor bounded out of the chair to stand at his side. The young man held his silence, merely placing a hand on Reinald's shoulder. The Mage reached up and patted the king's hand. When he could speak without betraying his emotions, he said, "I'm all right, thank you, Andalor. Now, if you would please go to Lord Mandor's chamber...." "But Reinald!" The king's whisper was fierce, urgent, as he took the Mage by the arm and led him away from the others. "Please, I want to be here. I'm concerned about you." Reinald quickly recovered his customary decisiveness. Shaking his head, he said in English, "No way." Startled that the slang had actually emerged from his own lips, he smiled. "I'm sorry, Andalor. I appreciate your concern, but you must leave," he said, kindly but firmly. "We don't know precisely what to expect with this spell. If I have to be worried about your safety as well, my concentration might waver at a critical moment with...undesirable...consequences." Noting the young man's mulish expression, he pleaded, "Please, Andalor. Don't make this more difficult." The king sighed. "All right. But Reinald, be careful, okay?" At the Mage's nod, he reluctantly left the room. Reinald turned to the others. "Well, Gunther, what have you cooked up for us?" he asked, with more optimism and energy than he felt. The tall old man scratched his head and looked doubtful. "Theoretically, this should work. I've just been briefing Tarnor, here." He indicated an assemblage of pots and vats, some bubbling, some steaming, none having a positive effect on the peculiar odor in the room. "I've run my wires through each. With the force field that you create, I'm hoping that one or more of them reacts in such a way as to magnify the intensity of the field." With a sinking feeling, Tarnor repeated, "Hoping?" "Yes...well...there really hasn't been an opportunity to test this, you know. Back in my world, I did get a brief chance to measure the electromagnetic charge that Reinald's spells create. That's what I based all this on, but that data is regrettably...sketchy." "All I need to know is are we risking a bigger problem in doing this than in doing nothing?" demanded Reinald. The Professor thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. If everything goes the way I've theorized, we'll be all right. I feel the larger risk is that it won't work at all. Our unseen enemy lies in wait. Of course, there is always the off-chance of an explosion -" "Explosion!" yelped Tarnor. "Professor, you fill me with confidence about our undertaking." "Sorry," he smiled, apologetically, "but you should know what you're getting into." "There's still time to back out, Tarnor," Reinald said seriously. "No one would think the less of you." The gargoyle bared his pointed teeth in a grin. "I always wanted to go out with a bang. All right. Let's do it!" Reinald fixed him in a long, appraising stare, then nodded. He stepped over to the center of the room in an area clear of furniture, and Tarnor followed. They took a few minutes to center themselves. "Ready, Gunther?" The Professor looked up from his pots and wires. "Everything's ready here, Reinald." "Very well." In silence, the lips of the two Mages began to move, mouthing the words both familiar and new, giving life to the spell. Slowly, their arms rose, and curved, and joined, forming a circle. Bright white-blue darts of energy ran down their arms, forming a glowing ring that illuminated the room far better than the torches on the walls. They now gave voice to the cadence of the chant, growing louder, more commanding. At the hearth, the liquid in some of the pots heaved and frothed, and the wires hummed. The Professor crouched over them, making adjustments, feeling the electric thrill tingling the skin of his bared forearms. Now the Mages' voices thundered, and the brilliant glare spread, out the windows to spill onto the courtyard below, under the door to dance along the stone corridors. Soon the castle thrummed to the power coming from within, the entire keep enveloped in a fierce glow. On and on it went, the merged voices shouting, almost - but not quite - drowning out the cries of surprise and alarm rising from the inhabitants of Fairwoods Castle. Finally, a candlemark after they had begun, the Mages slowly lowered their arms and croaked out the last of the spell. The darts of energy gradually faded, but a shimmer of light and the electric sensation remained everywhere. Exhausted, the Mages sank to the luxurious carpet. Professor Neumann yanked the wires from the pots and rushed to the side of his friends. Kneeling, he cradled Reinald's head in his lap. "Reinald - are you all right? Should I fetch a healer?" Weakly, the Royal Mage shook his head. "Not now. I must sleep...but...when the glow fades and ... your skin no longer senses the spell at work...we must be roused...to renew the shield.... Do you understand?" Mutely, Gunther nodded, starting a little as he heard Andalor's voice behind him. The king had rushed from Lord Mandor's chambers as soon as he felt the vibrations begin to abate. "We'll do just as you say, Reinald. Guards!" A squad of the king's personal guards rushed in. "Bear Mage Reinald and Mage Tarnor to the Royal Mage's chambers. Gently, mind!" the king commanded. "Put them to bed. Then summon Healer Sirisa and the Mages' servants to meet me there. They will be given further instructions." The guards, with more care and gentleness than would be expected of their kind, raised their burdens and bore them from the room. Andalor's gaze followed them. When their footsteps echoed in the hallway, he turned to the Professor. "Professor, it worked, didn't it? How long will it last?" The old man nodded. "Yes, I believe it worked. Reinald seems satisfied that it did, anyway, and that's good enough for me. As to how long it will last, I can't say, Your Majesty." Outside, thunder rumbled as the wind drove raindrops to smash against the high stone walls surrounding the courtyard, but none penetrated the barrier the Mages had constructed. As if in revenge, the fury of the storm intensified. Lightning viciously arced across the sky, thunder crashing almost simultaneously. No ordinary storm, this, Andalor knew. The king was grim. "Long enough for them to recover?" "Let us hope so, Sire." - - - - - Three doors down the corridor, the king's formal reception room now served to shelter the family of the Captain of the Royal Guards. Mumbling, Daanna shifted restlessly in her sleep on a small cot. At the hearth, Lita stirred the pot of stew she had brought up from the kitchens and tried to ignore the tingling of her skin and the sensation of magic at work. Her own cot was next to the child's, awaiting an end to her tasks. At the far end of the spacious chamber, two bedrolls had been laid out on the rug side by side. In chairs nearby the warriors sat, conversing in low tones. "Jourdain, what if the spell doesn't work? I'm worried that Daanna could be the next one attacked." Aldara's nerves were drawn as taut as lyre strings. The glow produced by the burgeoning spell made her nervous, and the death of Corvay had upset her almost as much as it had Reinald. Now anxiety about the safety of her child pushed to the fore, and her black brows drew together in a frown. He closed a massive hand around her tiny one. "I have every confidence in Reinald and Tarnor. If there's any possible way to protect us, they'll do it. Besides, pet - why should Daanna be in any more danger than the rest of us? She's just a baby. Surely the king, his betrothed, or the Mages themselves are likelier targets." "Her powers are unique. We don't know enough about them ourselves to understand how much of a target they may make her. Reinald recognized the danger, that's why we're here. Our enemy is a Black Mage of immense power If that force could reach in and take Corvay, it certainly could have discovered the threat our daughter might pose. Her foretelling dreams have given us the only insight we have into our enemy. Whether this "dark lady" of her dreams is indeed the Black Mage, or works in league with another, only Daanna has managed to put a face to our enemy." Jourdain grunted. "Aye, that's true enough. And I'd like to know what part that cursed Drellor has in all this." "Drellor?" questioned his wife, surprised. "What has Drellor to do with this?" He shrugged. "It stands to reason. Drellor was removed from his cell, using Black Magic, just as all the trouble began to brew. His heart is black with hatred for the king and Reinald. Even his allies in House Dordinal haven't been able to muster enough support to release him. Now, with the enemy assaulting the Realm from all sides and attacking in our midst, I find it impossible to believe he isn't involved somehow. Aye, be sure of it. He's made a deal with the Evil One -" He broke off as a bolt of lightning lit up the dim room and thunder shook the walls. Crossing the chamber, he stared out a tall window set high in the wall. "Aldara, come and look!" She went to his side and he lifted her, as he would a child, to see out. The skies had grown night-black. Beyond the perimeter of the courtyard wall, the storm raged. Trees bent and cracked, rain came down in sheets, and thunder and lightning were continuous. "Goddess! Jourdain, the rain - it's as if there's a wall of glass surrounding the castle!" He lowered her gently until her feet touched the floor and smiled down on her. "Well, love, it looks like Reinald's spell is working. That's not just a storm, it's a Mage-storm. Yet the castle remains untouched. If all of us are protected that well, we have nothing to worry about." She snuggled into his broad chest and sighed contentedly, his arms around her. Jourdain was her rock, her safe harbor. She was a warrior, yes, but also a mother, who sometimes worried excessively about her child. Her husband had a way of calming her, of giving her reassurance that no one else could give. A sound from over by the cots attracted their attention, and they turned to see their daughter, awakening from her nap with a beatific smile. "Mamma, Poppa! Mage Mulder is with the tall blue man!" They looked at each other and bolted to their child's side. "What do you mean, kitten? What blue man?" asked Jourdain gently. She sighed with childish impatience. "The blue man he was going to see. Mage Mulder and W-war...Warrior-Healer Scully. And Shannon and the funny little being. They were sitting down in the woods and the man came and he bringed them to his house." "Do you mean Hannu?" prompted her mother, eagerly. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I don't know. He's blue, like Mage Mulder. And very tall, like Poppa. I'm hungry." "Good, child. Now, come and eat, all of you. I have a nice supper all prepared," said Lita, dishing out bowls of stew. Jourdain smiled down at his wife. "It appears we have more than Reinald's spell to celebrate, pet." Glancing over at their elven servant, he said, "Keep mine warm, please, Lita. I'll be back shortly. It will be a pleasure to bring the king some good news, for a change." - - - - - Lightning snapped and thunder crashed throughout the Realm, as the winds bore the evidence of her fury. It had begun candlemarks before, and the quivering minions of the Dark Queen cowered in their corners and wondered when her wrath would be spent. Never before had they seen her like this, face almost black with a rage so strong, so powerful that even the capacity for speech eluded her. Her incoherent shrieks echoed through the bleak hallways and ricocheted off slime-covered walls. Finally, her voice grown hoarse, she fell silent, and an ominous quiet filled the darkness. This was the time her servants feared the most, when at any time a summons could come from above, and one of them might be sacrificed to her temper. High above where the servants hid, a flickering fire threw little light. Illumination of the noisome chamber came mostly from the intermittent lightning of the dying storm, suddenly exploding, then leaving the room dim until the next burst. Glowering, the Dark Queen sat huddled in her armchair, arms curled protectively around her midsection as if in pain. It was a kind of agony she was suffering, though more emotional than physical. Wrong. Everything had gone wrong. Her mind cried out to her father, to dear Lashmilla, seeking consolation and inspiration. Bad enough was her failure to observe the travelers. Just when she had them in her sight, collapsed on the forest floor in confusion and grief - he had appeared. For a short time she was able to combat the interference in her vision that had coincided with her enemy's arrival. With difficulty she followed them through the woods, concentrating so fiercely to keep her vision that her head throbbed. But when they had reached the clearing, the hematite sphere hummed and vibrated as before, but the images dimmed, then disintegrated. Repeated attempts to restore their images yielded no better results, leaving her frustrated and blind to her enemies. Finally in hot rage she had turned to Fairwoods Keep, once again seeking a release to the unbearable tension in the havoc she could wreak there. To once more cause grief and loss to her enemies such as she had borne almost since she could remember. She had reached for her sphere, had even chosen her mark - a slight, pale, pretty young girl treated with deference by the inhabitants. Then, just as her mouth moved to the first words of the spell that would reach in and suck out the child's life, a gray curtain suddenly obscured her vision. In moments it became white-blue and painfully brilliant, burning her eyes until she could bear it no more and had hurled the sphere across the room. The storm and the tirade had followed. Now she sat, tired. Too tired. Her outburst of temper had excessively sapped her store of energy for the battle to come, yet the writhing snake of her frustration still gnawed at her core. Her thoughts were as dark as her soul as she craved both sustenance and relief from the tension which threatened to consume still more of her precious reserves. Nothing had gone right so far. Yes, the villagers still slaughtered each other in those areas the king's troops had not yet reached. Admittedly, hatred still flourished, even in some of those towns where the troops stood careful watch. But none of this was enough to realize her dream. The Blue Mages had to be defeated, and Fairwoods must lie in smoldering ruins to see her plans come to fruition. While her enemies hid behind their shields of magic, she could do nothing. Nothing but sit here miserably and regret her mistakes, imagining the voices of her lost ancestors calling out, berating her for failing them, failing herself. She burst to her feet, fists clenched, face turned to the blackened beams of the ceiling. "By your blood, I shall be victorious!" she thundered. She stripped back the long tight sleeve of her underdress from her forearm. Eyes flashing, she brought her arm to her fury- contorted face. With a hoarse screech, she sank her perfect, sharp white teeth into the tender flesh of her wrist. Scarlet blood gushed from the wound, staining her mouth, running freely down her arm to be soaked up in her sleeve. The Dark Queen raised her face once more, and stretched her arms high. "By MY blood, I shall be victorious!" - - - - - Scully's eyes popped open and she tensed. As the realization of her whereabouts slowly came to her and she felt her bondmate's arms tighten around her, she relaxed and let her eyes close once more. "Good morning." She smiled. "Good morning. You sound like you've been awake for a while." "Yeah. Couldn't sleep." "That's odd, for you. Well, it's odd here, anyway." Although Mulder had insomnia in his own world, in the Realm he generally slept peacefully. And with the exertions of the journey, sleep had not been a problem. "The bed's not spacious, but it's reasonably comfortable." "I know. No, I was comfortable enough. Just too disappointed and pissed off. And the more I thought about that third test, the more pissed off I got. You don't think he actually invaded our minds to get those images, do you? I mean, if so, Hannu has taken a giant step downwards in my estimation. Bad enough we were treated like unwelcome guests. Then he decides to have us checked out and puts us on ice. But if he did intrude into our minds to set up that third test, then he's no better than the Black Mage who mentally raped me back at the Greenswan River." He frowned. "But I just can't make myself believe that of Hannu. It's not a 'Blue Mage' thing to do. And I'm not a world-class aura reader like Lita, but I could swear that he hasn't lied to us. What's he trying to do?" "I don't know." At the mention of Lita's name, Scully was reminded of their friends in Fairwoods. "I wonder what's happening back at the castle. If they put an end to all the outbreaks of killing, if the king and all our friends are all right." Mulder drew her closer. "I don't know. If our theory is correct and a Black Mage has been causing all this, then chances are it's still going on. And our theory IS correct, Scully - there's too much evidence for it to be anything else. I don't know, maybe we've been able to distract our enemy somewhat. One thing I do know - Hannu had better come up with some substantive help today, or we'd better fall back to Plan B." "As I recall, we don't have a Plan B." "Yeah, I know," he said ruefully. She stroked his shoulders and chest comfortingly. "Something will happen. It'll be okay." "More of the famous but often-denied Scully intuition?" "I just know it HAS to be okay, Mulder." He lowered his lips to hers just as Shannon walked through the door with a perfunctory knock. She rolled her eyes. "Are you guys at it again? Don't you ever get tired?" Mulder sighed. "Good morning to you too, Shannon. Your timing is impeccable, as always. Everything okay during the night?" "I slept like a baby. Jasta's a sweetie." She plopped down on a rough wooden bench at the table. "And if you're interested, breakfast is being served at Hannu's as soon as you're ready." "I'm very interested," declared Mulder. "Does Jhorgab know?" "He had his first breakfast at dawn with Lohrat. Evidently, griltewies and trolls are on the same wavelength when it comes to priorities. But he's ready for another if we can get you two to join us." She sat smiling pleasantly at her taabsut and his bondmate. Now he was pointedly returning her gaze. She colored prettily. "Oh! Yeah...well. You'll want to get up and get dressed now, won't you, so I'll just meet you over there, okay?" She slipped out the door with a giggle. - - - - - It was no surprise to the couple that Jhorgab was chattering away happily to anyone who would pay him the slightest bit of attention. The crowd at Hannu's cottage spilled out into the front yard, and they stepped back from the path as two gargoyles carried in another long table. Entering the little dwelling, they found it contained most of the inhabitants of the village. Mulder gave a short, impatient snort. //We can hardly get down to business in front of all these beings. More of Hannu's stalling tactics, do you think?\\ //Could be. Make the best of it, Mulder. We passed the tests on the trip here. Maybe this is another one - a test of our patience.\\ //I don't think the Realm can afford for us to be patient much longer, Scully.\\ He swallowed a sympathetic chuckle as he could almost hear her teeth grinding in frustration. The messages he was receiving over their link were completely opposite to the expectant, friendly exterior his bondmate was putting on public view. "Ah, there they are! Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully! There are some beings here that I want you to meet." In stark contrast to his cool reserve of the previous day, Hannu was the warm, convivial host, making introductions and handing around mugs of tea. He introduced them to the inhabitants of the village, a colorful mixture of beings who treated the Mage as just one of their neighbors. Giving up, for now, on the idea of drawing any closer to a solution to their problems, they chatted easily with the beings until everyone was called to the table by Jasta. When they had all found seats, an old human stood at the head of one of the tables and spoke softly in a strange tongue. When he was finished, the villagers responded briefly in the same language, then began passing the heaping platter of food. The serving dishes arrived last at the place where the troll and the griltewy sat side by side. The villagers evidently understood a thing or two about their appetites. The two new friends evenly divided the generous amount of food still on the platters between them, and fell to eating with enthusiasm. Mulder and Scully necessarily sat together. He chatted to Lohrat on his right, ducking the spray of food particles that were emitted when the griltewy spoke. Pausing between mouthfuls, Scully looked around at the tables filled with happy, peaceful, but completely disparate beings. "How do you like our cuisine, Warrior Healer Scully?" asked Hannu, seated on her left. "It's wonderful." She sipped at her tea. Then, hoping to get a little information, she commented, "How very fortunate the interspecies hatred plaguing the Realm hasn't affected you here." He smiled pleasantly. "Very fortunate indeed." She bit back a flash of annoyance. He was toying with her. He knew very well she was on a fishing expedition, and had easily avoided her last cast. Persistently, she said, "Mulder and I have seen many villages on our journey, but this one appears unique. In many ways. For instance, isn't it unusual for such a small, isolated village to have such a wide assortment of beings? How did so many different species come to be here?" "Why is anyone anywhere? he laughed. "Perhaps once again we can ascribe the happenstance to good fortune." Scully was about to press the question when the Mage turned from her to chat with the being on his other side. She fumed silently. //What's up, love?\\ He turned in her general direction, but avoided giving the impression he was communicating with her. //I tried getting some information out of Hannu. I think it would be easier getting an alphabetized list of Swiss bank accounts mailed to the IRS.\\ //Never mind. Wait until this crowd clears out and we'll see if Hannu is any more forthcoming.\\ //He'd better be.\\ When the meal was finished, the dirty dishes disappeared, whisked away by their owners. The crowd said their goodbyes and left, taking the extra tables and benches with them. Jasta was the last to leave, and finally they were alone with Hannu. The Mage could sense their impatience, but still seemed reluctant to engage in any meaningful discussion, steering the conversation in the direction of trivialities. "Shannon, why don't you and Jhorgab explore the village?" Mulder suggested. "If that is allowed, of course," he added dryly, looking at Hannu. "Certainly, by all means. You are my guests, not my prisoners. If I may suggest, however - avoid the woods to the northwest, the direction from which you entered the village. There's quite a lovely glade to the east, complete with a babbling brook. I often go there to think. Why don't you try there? Or you may visit any of the villagers, I'm sure they'd be glad of your company." Shannon was about to protest, as only an aggrieved teenager can. Here she had gone through all the dangers and hardships of the journey, holding her own with the adults, only to be told now to go away and play, as if she were a child. Her cheeks flushed with irritation and she opened her mouth to argue, when she caught sight of her taabsut's expression. One look at his quiet, concentrated determination told her it was an argument she would not win and which would prove an embarrassment to everyone. "Come on, Jhorgab. We know when we're not wanted." She opened the door to allow the troll through. "Shannon? Perhaps, if you would like, I could show you the glade myself," Hannu offered. "Say, in a candlemark? If it is allowed, of course." She turned expectantly to Mulder, who was staring at Hannu with eyes narrowed. Finding no trace of irony in the Mage's words which were so much an echo of his own, seeing no tell-tale flicker of his powerful blue aura, he said, "All right. If you want to, Shannon." "Yeah, that would be great! See you there." Happily she followed Jhorgab out the door and into the village. //Mulder, are you sure that was wise?\\ He sent a wave of reassurance, then his mind turned to their mission. To Hannu he remarked, "I'm concerned about our friends back in the Realm. Every day we delay means more death and destruction. We told you of the gravity of the situation. We've been as open as we can be. I think it's now time we asked you to return the favor." "Are you saying that I've been less than truthful?" he asked. He looked at the pair, the corners of his amber eyes crinkling with amusement. "No," replied Scully carefully. "As far as we know you haven't lied to us. But truth and frankness are not necessarily the same." For some time, the three parried back and forth, an intelligent and stimulating discussion but imparting no information of any use to the bondmates. Finally, when Scully realized just how far off track the glib Mage had led them, she broke in. "This is all fine, but we're not here to discuss philosophy. Witty conversation is all well and good, but there are beings dying all over the Realm. And your delaying tactics are getting us nowhere." Mulder shot her a look of caution. //Easy, love. I know it's frustrating but we have to play his game.\\ Gravely Hannu nodded. "I'm sure that's very distressing to you. As I said last night, these things take time." The bland dismissal finally lit Mulder's fuse. "How much time?" he demanded. "Look, we came here because you were our last resort. Believe me, we wouldn't have chosen to go through the hell we did if it weren't necessary. We've been surveyed, scrutinized, tested and now stonewalled. You can read my aura, you know I'm telling you the truth. Why can't you be straight with us? We need your help." He paused as he suddenly realized something. He had said the word 'stonewalled' in English, having no ready Realm equivalent. Yet Hannu did not blink, did not look perplexed, in fact did not in any way register a lack of understanding. Interesting. Mulder filed the fact away in his memory. "Look, you know about us, even about the intensely personal problem Scully and I are having with our bond," he continued. "Yet we know nothing about this place, nothing about you." "It isn't necessary for you to know anything about me," the Mage replied coolly. "Trust goes both ways," Scully countered, annoyed. The Mage frowned, his lips tight. "I have not spent the last several score of season-cycles trying to forget aspects of my past, only to divulge them to you," he said heatedly, his detachment finally cracked. He looked into Mulder's hazel eyes, which always bore a trace of pain, the presence of ghosts. "I might suggest," he added more softly, "that there are portions of your own past you would not chose to share with a new acquaintance, no matter how congenial." Scully felt rather than saw Mulder recoil slightly from the emotional bullseye that Hannu's words had scored. She had had enough. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, Hannu, but at this point I seriously question why we bothered to come here," she snapped. "Your little stunt of invading our minds for the third test makes you no better than our enemy." Shocked, Hannu drew back. "Invade your minds?" he gasped. "I would never do that. It's against everything I believe in, everything a Blue Mage represents." "But the images, the visions that came to us - you made them, you forced them on us," Mulder said numbly. Still dazed, Hannu shook his head. "I didn't invade your minds, I wouldn't commit such an act." "Then how -" "I'm sorry, very sorry for the pain that the test seems to have caused you. I thought when I first saw you in the forest that something was wrong, but I never thought.... Yes, the visions were my creation in a way, but actually they were not." Noting the disbelief and confusion in their expressions, he continued, "Let me explain." "I think you'd better," responded Scully darkly, stroking her bondmate's arm comfortingly. "The third test was merely another way to entice you off the trail. The spell only makes the would-be entrant see what he or she most wishes to see, appearing at some distance off the path. It is the entrant who determines what is seen. For many, the image is a bag of gold, or sparkling jewels. For others it might be a beautiful female, or a handsome male, or even a coveted weapon. In your case...." "In our case, it produced visions of people who were very dear to us, people we have lost," finished Mulder quietly. "And it felt like losing them all over again, thanks to your test," added his bondmate icily. "You have my most abject apology," Mage Hannu said. "That test was never meant to cause pain, and I can see that it did in your case. Great pain. It was unforgivable, and I'm sorry." The sweet twittering of a songbird sounded outside the cottage. "I must ask you to excuse me," said Hannu. "It is nearly time to meet your halla, and I don't want to keep her waiting. I must also apologize to her, and to Jhorgab. I shall return shortly." "But what about -" "Soon, Warrior-Healer Scully. Soon." The door closed behind him. - - - - - Shannon felt like she had died and gone to heaven. She relaxed on the sun-warmed stone, dangling her bare feet in the cool shallow stream. Dappled shade and sun glinted off the clear water, and a soft breeze played with the surrounding treetops. A sudden snap of a twig, however, and she was back in warrior mode - on her feet, crouched in a defense posture, sword in hand. Then she relaxed, smiled, and resheathed her weapon. "Oh, it's you!" "I see you have found my favorite place," Hannu called from the opposite bank. She reclined once more. "I can see why you love it. Come on over, there's plenty of room on this rock." The Mage removed his boots and waded out to her, sitting on the edge of the rock she comfortably occupied. "Your journey was hard, but you seem no worse for your experiences, I'm happy to see." She gazed at him from beneath her lashes. "It's been interesting, that's for sure." "Tell me a little about yourself." Shannon was hesitant. For some reason, she felt herself drawn to the enigmatic Mage, in spite of his lack of cooperation with their mission. But she knew Mulder wanted to keep their origins a secret for now. Not to mention the charade of Mulder's being her uncle. While she was eager to talk to him, she was afraid of saying something which would betray Mulder's confidence in her. "There's not much to tell, really. I began training as a warrior some time ago, after my aura was read and my talents were discovered. Since then, I've been working hard. I must say I've had more practice on the journey than I thought I would." Hannu smiled warmly. "You obviously have trained well, or you never would have survived. Your aura also contains a bit of Mage blue. Have you ever tried to develop it?" "Mage Mulder's been showing me a few things. But having it in my aura came as a bit of a surprise." "A surprise? Why? With your uncle a powerful Mage, it's reasonable that you should have received some talent through your familial relationship." Shannon blushed a little over her gaffe and hoped that Hannu would think the redness of her cheeks was due to the strong sunlight. "Yes, of course. Well... I just never thought I would inherit those gifts." Hannu nodded and seemed to accept her explanation. He looked around him. "Lovely place, isn't it?" He was quiet for a while, leaning his weight back on his arms and enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his skin. "You're a young woman, the right age for marriage. Any thoughts in that direction?" When she didn't respond, he glanced toward her. She was frowning. "No, not really. There is someone, a very special young man...but the match would not be agreeable to his family." "Then they obviously have either poor taste or unreasonable expectations." She laughed bitterly. "That's what Taabsut Mulder said." "Tell me of your family, where you come from. Perhaps I know the village." Her face darkened further. "I don't think so. It's really far away, I don't think it's possible you could have been there. My family was just my mother. I lost her recently." Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of Karen, the brilliant woman she was only beginning to know when her life was brutally ended. One tear coursed slowly down her cheek, and she averted her head quickly to hide it from the Mage. After a moment, he said gently. "It's so hard to lose someone you love, isn't it? I'm sorry. It seems I have now caused you pain twice. It was your mother whom you saw in the forest, wasn't it? I want to apologize. The third test was never meant to cause anyone unhappiness." Shannon sniffed and roughly wiped away the evidence of her tears. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. It's just..." She stopped. "Go on. It's just what, Shannon?" "Well, my mother and I never really got along. I was rebellious and resented her, for all the wrong reasons. I never even knew she loved me until..." She broke off until she could get her quavering voice under control. "Until she gave her life to save me." Startled, Hannu exclaimed, "Goddess! What happened?" She shook her head. "It's a long story. She was murdered. And now I wish I had gotten to know her better and hadn't been such a pain in the... I mean, I wish I hadn't been so much trouble to her." "She'd be very proud of you now." "Thanks." She looked up at him shyly. "That's what Taabsut Mulder and Dana keep telling me." "Dana?" "Warrior-Healer Scully. That's her first name." His reaction was so brief she never saw it. "Ah! Of course. She was Mulder's sister, after all." "No.... I mean.... Mulder and Scully were there when it happened." Now Hannu looked confused. "But - surely - Mage Mulder would have had the power to stop it?" "Not there. It doesn't work. I mean -" Shannon stumbled over her words. "I mean, it was very sudden. It was too quick. If he could have saved her, he would have. He felt almost as bad as I did." They were both silent for some moments, Shannon lost in the traumatic memories of her mother's death, Hannu in the questions that her words raised. 'First names?' His magic wouldn't work 'there?' Finally he said, "We should be getting back. I'm sure Mage Mulder will be concerned about you." "Yeah, I guess." Reluctantly she got to her feet and retrieved her boots. He did likewise and together they waded across the stream. - - - - - When Hannu returned to the cottage with Shannon, Mulder and Scully were ready. "All right, Mage Hannu," Scully said. "If you aren't going to assist us, just tell us now. We have beings depending on us to help them. Maybe you can sit idly by while they're slaughtered, but we can't. It will be a long trip back to Fairwoods. The sooner we leave, he sooner we can get back and help." He held up his hands. "Wait, please. I understand only too well your urgency. Let us have tea and discuss it." As he bent to his task, the travellers watched his every move. The Mage seemed different, more conciliatory. Mulder flashed a questioning glance Shannon's way, but she merely shrugged and stared at her boots. //Do you think Shannon said something to him, somehow convinced him?\\ //I don't know. She may have let something slip - she's avoiding eye contact. There's nothing we can do about it now. I don't know what she possibly could have said to convince him we're telling the truth. God knows we haven't been able to do it.\\ When the steaming mugs had been passed around, Hannu seated himself on the bench next to the long table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to be sure." "Was it something we said, or did you have us checked out? Your exit when we heard that birdcall was rather convenient," Mulder commented mildly. Hannu smiled wryly. "It seems I might just as well have had him knock. Bicar, your host for last night, has a somewhat...checkered...past. He still has several contacts which are useful from time to time. One of those is a Black Mage several candlemark's journey from here, who, unbeknownst to him, has been a valuable source of information about the goings-on in the world of the Black Arts." "You suspected us of being in league with a Black Mage?" Scully asked incredulously. "When dealing with Black Magic, anything may be possible - the disguising of an aura, for example. While no spell is known to exist for that, it is always within the realm of possibility. As far as I could tell, you were who and what you claimed to be, but I had to make certain. Once before we had a visitor who tricked us all, and who could have caused the deaths of everyone in the village." "What happened to the visitor?" questioned Shannon. "We thought since she desired so much to be amongst us, that we would ensure that she got her wish. She is now that very attractive fountain you may have noticed on your way through the village." He hesitated a moment, then went on. "I am now secure that there is no dissembling here, that your mission is as you say. I am also sure that there is something you're holding back, but I feel that it's relatively benign." "Does that mean that you'll answer our questions now, that you'll help us?" Mulder asked. At Hannu's nod, he continued. "Did Bicar's source give him any idea of who our enemy is?" "Oh, that. I've always known that. It could be no one else. There's only one with the power and the blackness of heart to cause these deeds. She's a very powerful Black Mage." "The dark lady of Daanna's dreams!" Scully breathed. "You have personal knowledge of her?" guessed Mulder. "Unfortunately. We met once, ages ago. It was not a cordial meeting." Mulder started, then began digging around in his saddlebags. Triumphantly, he pulled out the tapestry Reinald had given him and unrolled it. "Was it anything like this?" Taking the tapestry, Hannu chuckled as he scanned it. "Well, let's say this is a highly idealized account. The actual confrontation was much less attractive." Scully returned the Mage's smile. "What happened?" "I guess you could say we had a difference of opinion concerning the ethical use of magic," he responded dryly. "Neither of us was willing to capitulate to the other, as the stakes were rather high. We fought," he finished simply. "Legend has it that both of you disappeared after that battle," probed Mulder. "It was thought that both of you were dead. Where did you disappear to? How did it happen?" He sighed. "When you deal with magical power of the magnitude we were, anything can happen. And it did. I think that's all I want to say about it for now. Eventually, I found my way back. It appears that she did, too." "Tell us about her," Scully urged. "I don't know her name - I don't know if anybody does. She subscribes to the old school, where it is thought that if your enemy knows your name, he holds a kind of power over you. I know that she is as beautiful on the outside as she is twisted and evil on the inside. "As to her motives and the task we have cut out for us - she has immense power fueled by a limitless hatred of those she feels wronged her. She is the last of a dynasty of Mage-kings and queens who were devoted to the use and promulgation of the Black Arts. Her father was destroyed by one of his own spells - a little revenge spell he was cooking up because he blamed Blue Mages for the death of his wife. In fact, Blue Mages had nothing to do with it. From the ancient records which recounted her symptoms, she succumbed to a plague that was raging in that part of our land at the time. But he never saw it that way. So he was killed, and his two daughters fled their ancestral home into the surrounding swamp. Today it's called Witch Tears Swamp, supposedly because of the unearthly sounds of weeping and moaning heard there after they were banished. Only one of the sisters survived. The vow of vengeance has sustained her since that time. Evidently she has decided to wait no longer to carry out her oath." "When you fought before, the legend says that the battle ended in a draw," Mulder said. "Did you get any insight from that?" He was seriously worried. An enemy with so much power that Hannu could not conquer her was a frightening thought. Now that they had enlisted Hannu's aid, it was time to try to formulate some sort of battle plan. The Mage rose and stood by the fire, thinking. Slowly, he replied, "Knowledge is the key. I pulled out every spell I could think of and it was not enough. And, meaning no offense, I probably knew far more spells even then than you and Reinald combined know now. Even with those I have added since that time so long ago, I still have none that I have any confidence could defeat this enemy." "Well, still, there must be some safety in numbers," Mulder persisted hopefully. "There would be you and Reinald and myself. Between us we should have enough power." "Possibly," Hannu muttered. Louder, he said "If we had the right spell to convert that power into something deadly. I have heard of Reinald, certainly he is a great and powerful Mage. But much may have happened since you left Fairwoods." Noting their alarmed expressions, he said quickly, "No, I don't mean that he is injured, or worse. No, I merely meant that he may have already expended a certain amount of that power in fighting the spells of the Black Mage. In his position, that's what I would be doing." "And will expend more power if he constructs a Gate to bring us back," Mulder added glumly. Hannu nodded. "That's true. So we can't count on Reinald. And you - you have your own problems." "Me?" "How do you think you're going to be able to function with your present lifebond difficulties? Believe me, you will have to be at the top of your form and unfettered from your need to be in physical contact with Warrior Healer Scully if you are to be effective. In your present state you'll be useless, a danger certainly to yourself and your bondmate, and possibly to Reinald and me. No, like it or not, no matter how urgently you wish to enjoin the battle against the Black Mage, you're going to have to get this lifebond problem out of the way first." "We don't have the time -" Scully began. "No - you don't have a choice. If you don't do something about this now, your bondmate and you will not survive. You will be of precious little use to the Realm if you're dead." Hannu was firm. "So do you know what's wrong?" Scully asked. "Can you fix it? You have the answer?" His eyes twinkled as he crossed the hearth area to sit near to them. "Yes, I believe I have the answer. In fact, you have had the answer nearly at your fingertips all along." The bondmates, puzzled, looked at one another and then back to the Mage, disbelief clear on their faces. Clasping their right hands in his own, he lifted their hands and spoke with solemn certainty. "It's your rings!" End of Chapter Eighteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Nineteen - NC-17 Optional Chapter "The rings?" Mulder's voice was sharp with surprise. Hannu nodded, gazing at them with narrowed eyes. The older Mage shook his head, sighing. "So much has been lost, so much of the old knowledge gone. And I cannot even be sure if it is a good thing or not. Regardless...yes, the rings. I thought when I saw the two of you wearing them, Mage and lifebonded Companion, that you knew that much at least. It is a rare spell, true, but these are obviously bond- rings. The stones are the center of the power, but it is traditional to wear them this way." Mulder and Scully were glancing from their rings to him with confusion in their eyes, and he paused, rubbing unhappily at his beard. "It's not often done, even in the ancient past it was used only by the most powerful Mages," he explained. "The rings serve a number of useful purposes, increasing focus and range, extending awareness, but most importantly, acting as a method of keeping control. Power such as yours, Mulder, can be a terrible gift..." He paused as the other Mage's expressive face darkened, the hazel eyes glinting. Hannu inclined his head in acknowledgment of the unspoken, familiar fears, then continued smoothly. "Control is, and always should be, a Mage's watchword. Which is why some choose a Companion." The word was patently capitalized, causing Scully's eyebrow to lift. Hannu gave her the faintest of smiles. "A Companion is another person, one who has no magical talent, yet is always someone of unusual sensitivity. Often Companions are healers, the requirements of both roles seem to match well. For the Mage, the Companion serves as both focus and anchor, guiding the Mage back to awareness when the power surges too strongly, adding strength to his will and clarity to his mind. It can involve a major sacrifice on the part of the Companion, though the rewards are many. Still, most Mage and Companion pairs are -- were -- lifebonded, though the pairing was not always male-female. In fact the closest Mage-Companion pairing I have seen...until now..." he added as an afterthought, studying them meticulously. "...was between two men. They were never lovers, but the relationship was one of the closest I have ever seen. Yours is similar, except that you are lovers, but that, for all the apparent power of it, is secondary only." Mulder looked startled, but Scully nodded. "So I am Mulder's Companion?" she asked. Hannu held for a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully. "You *could* be. In effect you are, but something is not right. The rings are obviously activated, and the psychic bond between you is extraordinary, but it's all skewed. Uncontrolled." He frowned, storm clouds gathering in his dark eyes. "Did you not undergo *any* training?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. //I think we'd better tell him,\\ Scully sent. //Perhaps you're right; it *is* pretty much public knowledge.\\ Mulder's sudden chime of amusement rang in her mind. //Think he'll believe it?\\ Turning back to Hannu, he answered as though nothing had passed between question and reply. "There wasn't really time. You see, Scully and I aren't from here, from the Realm. We come from another...place." Hannu looked startled for a moment, then smiled faintly, as though something had suddenly come clear. He nodded. "That does explain some things. Where do you come from?" Mulder swallowed, for all of his experience in spouting out odd ideas, this one was harder than most. "Ummm, I'm not exactly sure how to explain this. We came here by accident, in a way I can't really explain. We're literally not of this world, not of this universe, in fact." Hannu's entire body jerked, his eyes widening in shock. But what made Mulder stop speaking wasn't the shock he could see in the other Mage's strong face, it was the arrow-bolt of anguish that flew across those usually tightly controlled features. Mulder paused, and looked to Scully who stretched out her left hand towards Hannu. "Are you all right?" she asked gently. Hannu started, turning glistening eyes towards her. His jaw worked, then the shield fell down into place. The only remaining sign of his distress was a faint gleam in his eyes, but the remainder of his bearing was abruptly under control. "I am fine. Hmmm...how long have you been in the Realm?" //I wonder what he's hiding,\\ Mulder thought to Scully, even as he leaned forward to reply, his own face bland. "This time, for a few months. We were here once before, for a period of close to a year. We returned home for a while, then came back. We've got maybe another couple of months, then we'll have to return home." That really startled Hannu. "You can travel between worlds at will?" he demanded, something unrecognizable sparking in his eyes. "Sort of," Scully replied. "But it is difficult, and requires a lot of energy. The Professor, Reinald, and Mulder can manage it, but only with a lot of preparation. The timing is the biggest concern. Time passes differently here as compared to our world, which can cause a great deal of trouble if it is not handled properly." The only sign of Hannu's effort to maintain control was the slow clenching and unclenching of his hand, curling against his knee. He was silent for a moment, then focused hard on the concerns of the moment. "So you came here as adults?" They both nodded. He sighed with frustrated understanding. "And you came from a world that obviously does not use Mage-energy as we do, probably with a half-formed bond between you. Gods, this is a true mess. But you've obviously had some training in the use of your ability. You shield well, and you focus far better than most. It took fine-tuned control to break the second test barrier coming here." Mulder took the compliment surprisingly well, mostly just ignoring it. "Reinald taught me as much as he could, as quickly as he could. That was at the time of the invasion of the Dark Creatures...." Understanding flashed in Hannu's eyes. "Of course," he muttered, finally placing the memory that had made these two seem strangely familiar. He had stayed isolated from events in the Realm for many long years, but word of that conflict had eked through even to here. He had heard gossip and half-formed rumors, apparently exaggerated out of proportion, and had dismissed them as such. Obviously, that had been a mistake. Perhaps he *had* been out of touch for too long, but.... That was a concern for another time. Hannu leaned back in his chair. "No wonder your bond is out of control. Both the validation of the lifebond and the Mage- Companion joining require long periods of preparation and proper activation. Gods, it has been many, many years since I have seen such a bond. They were rare, even when I was young. Now, they are apparently unknown. Or were..." He sighed softly. "How did you get the rings?" "King Andalor gave them to us as a gift. He said the stones were ancient and apparently magical, though no one knew what kind of spell was on them, except that it was benign." Hannu's jaw set angrily. "Idiots! Playing around with things they do not understand. To take such a chance with an unknown magical spell..." "Reinald checked to make sure that there was no stain of Black Magic about the rings, and the magical energy on them was extremely faint," Mulder protested. "I felt for it myself, and it was only barely there." "Of course there wasn't much there, the spell is quiescent in the absence of a Mage-bond to activate it! And it has probably been hundreds of years since they have been in contact with anyone with the gifts to use them properly. Gods!" Hannu swore again. "Look at the rings now," he ordered, slicing the air with his hand. "Look!" Mulder looked down at the band of gold decorating his right hand, the sapphire blinking warmly at him. Eyelids half- closing in concentration, he focused the Mage-sight, *seeing* with his magical sensitivity rather than physical vision, and he gasped suddenly, jerking his head away and instinctively throwing up a hand to protect his eyes. Blinding blue light, raging power, the bright sapphire stone like a living entity on his hand, entwined deeply with his own aura. He didn't need to turn his head to look at Scully's ring, the trail of white light winding from his hand to hers, from his ring to hers, was burned into his retinas. He could feel it as well, like a steel cable binding them together. Had it always been there and he'd just not chanced to look? Dear God... Slowly forcing the power down, he could feel Scully's worry beating at the edges of his mind. "I'm all right," he told her both aloud and within the sanctity of their mind-link. "I'm okay, it just took me by surprise." He let her see the image that had seared its way into his memory, and heard her gasp in response. Finally opening his eyes and lowering his arm, he blinked at Hannu. "So what do we do about it?" he asked bluntly, seizing on the bottom line. "As much as I love being close to Scully, this is getting ridiculous! We can't live like this!" Hannu frowned, rubbing at his chin, then shrugged. "We teach you what you should have learned in the first place. The problem is that we're first going to have to break the bad habits you've already formed." - - - - - Breaking bad habits was far easier said than done. They had found immediately that the rings could not be removed from their hands. Every attempt to do so caused a sense of vertigo so fierce that they both doubled over in agony. Even when Hannu tried to force the rings off, they wouldn't give way, the gold burning so hotly that he couldn't touch it for more than a second without searing his skin. Giving that up as a lost cause, he had turned relentlessly towards separating them. Mulder and Scully had both instinctively balked, but the experienced Mage was adamant and they both desperately wanted a solution. Easing themselves apart a little at a time was as good a place to start as any, and Hannu *sounded* like he knew what he was doing. Even so, it was a disaster. Hannu had to forcibly pull their hands apart. They tried to release each other, but the muscles wouldn't obey the mental command. It was the oddest feeling, almost as though their flesh was literally glued together. And when Hannu finally managed to get them separated, the urge to reach for each other was blinding in its intensity. Mulder groaned aloud with the agony of it, feeling as though his soul was being torn apart. Scully whimpered softly, biting down so hard on her lower lip that she broke the skin. The sight of the small red droplet forming on her lip was more than Mulder could stand, and he broke free of Hannu's grip with a sudden surge of strength. Scully was in his arms a heartbeat later, her hands clutching at his cloak. She wriggled against him as though trying to burrow her way through his clothes and into his flesh. Their minds merged with the touch of his mouth on hers, and they were falling into a boundless sea of desire... "STOP!" The single word made the ground beneath them shake, and they parted to look up at the source of the sound. Hannu was glaring at them angrily, and Scully felt her cheeks burn with a rising flush. Mulder only squeezed her tighter, but she could read his embarrassment even without touching it in his thoughts. "Again!" Hannu commanded sharply, in a tone that brooked no argument. Yet they couldn't part on their own, he had to peel their arms away, forcing them into chairs facing each other. "Don't move!" he commanded, and they sat facing each other for a few endless seconds, until the urge became too powerful and they were tumbling into each other's grasp yet again. Hannu pulled them apart, time after time, the result always the same. And the length of time they could stay separated shortened instead of lengthened, until they were screaming at him when he tried to break them free of each other, the outside world raging with Mulder's fury. Finally, Hannu let them go, stepping back with a long- suffering sigh of frustration. The thunderstorm booming outside the small cottage eased off slowly, as the lovers clung, soothing each other with kisses and tender caresses. Finally the storm passed, inside and out, and they slowly turned to face him. "I'm sorry," Mulder said. "I...You can't know what it's like. It hurts so much..." "Of course it hurts!" Hannu replied abruptly. He paused, and drew in a deep breath. "This is worse than I thought." Still clinging to Mulder, Scully looked up anxiously at him. "What do you mean?" Hannu rubbed gingerly at the back of his neck, then met her gaze gravely. "I should have realized it would be like this." He searched for the words to explain, his hand weaving through the air. "The bond between you is made up of energy, and the amount of power it consumes is less the closer you are together. So, naturally, you conserve that expenditure of energy by being closer. The more often you do that, the more comfortable it becomes, the more difficult it is to stay apart. Like the difference between standing upright and lying down. If you do not use the muscles that support you, they decay until they no longer *can* support you. The spell on the stones was like a catalyst, increasing the amount of energy involved to the point that you couldn't control it. The closer you are, the better it feels - the very pleasure of the contact can act like a drug, and it can easily become habit-forming. I'm afraid that due to the influence of the misused joining spell, it's done exactly that; you've become literally addicted to each other." "Addicted?" Mulder repeated, stunned. "No..." he tried to deny it, but the accusation made a great deal of sense. Even so... "I don't understand," Scully said, her blue eyes wide with shock. Hannu stared sadly at her. "I think you do, Healer Scully. You know the symptoms better than I." She shook her head, but the expression on her face, horrified and somehow accepting, told him that she did indeed see the truth of it. "Oh God, no," she whispered. "But...what can we do? I can't imagine ever living without Mulder." Her voice hardened to forged steel. "I won't live without him." "I wouldn't ask it of you," Hannu replied. "But you cannot go on as you are now, either." "So what do we do?" Mulder demanded roughly. "We break you cold. That's the only way to remove the rings and break the joining spell's influence. Once that is done, we can begin again. Out of the rings' influence, you'll be able to control your bond, and then I can teach you how to activate and use the joining spell properly. It will be not be easy," Hannu said. "It might not work at all, but it's the only possible option." "How?" Mulder responded, not liking the sound of this at all. Hannu nodded. "We're going to have to separate you completely, out of sight of each other. When you are able to remove the rings, I'll be able to shut down the spell. Then you should be able to think and act sensibly in each other's absence and we can begin proper training." Scully swallowed hard, then nodded, though her hands were digging painfully into Mulder's arms. "I think he's right, Mulder," she allowed, hating the fear that echoed through her voice. //Scully, are you sure?\\ Mulder asked, his thoughts tumbling around her, terror arching up through his spine. She looked up into his eyes, marveling yet again at the beauty of those multi-faceted orbs, the depths of his soul clear for her to see. //Yes, love. We've got to do it...but...\\ She didn't need to say it, the anguish they both felt was a shared wound. Mulder leaned down to kiss her forehead, breathing in the scent of her deeply, imprinting it upon his senses, then he turned towards Hannu. "All right, let's do it." - - - - - Shannon didn't like this at all. Even though Mulder and Scully had explained it to her, insisting that she do exactly as Hannu asked, no matter what happened, she was miserable. It had taken every ounce of strength she and Jhorgab had to drag Scully into Jasta's cottage, and the woman's screams still rang piercingly in her ears. Scully was in one of her silent periods now, curled up in the corner of the room in a shaking ball, red hair falling in a wild tangle around her face and arms. She was rocking back and forth in a fetal position, knees hugged into her chest. Shannon felt her stomach turn upside down every time she looked at her, but this was at least better than the previous violent rage. The last outburst had been the worst. Shannon feared that she might be unable to prevent Scully from hurting herself, or someone else. Already, the woman had thrown herself at the door so hard that the entire building shook with the impact, but she hadn't even noticed the pain. Instead, she'd cried out in pure frustration, blue eyes as wild as a hurricane at sea, a searing aqua fire that burned Shannon when it touched her. The girl had desperately wanted to avoid hurting Scully, but the petite woman was a trained fighter, and she'd gone berserk, clawing at anyone who tried to touch her, tossing any object she could lift at the walls in an attempt to break through. The only sensible word that emanated from her mouth was "Mulder" and that wailed with such sheer anguish that it tore Shannon's heart open. Scully had finally collapsed out of sheer exhaustion, curling up in a corner to sob and shiver. It had been merely three candlemarks now, and Shannon didn't think she could take much more of this. Jhorgab kept wandering from Shannon to Hannu and back again, his small stature somehow seeming even more diminished, his yellow eyes dimmed to a pale amber. Every time he approached, Shannon would gaze at him with hope, and he would sadly shake his head. The elements themselves raged, the sky above boiling in pale reflection of Scully's eyes, the ground itself seeming to tremble beneath their feet. Hannu was struggling to contain Mulder, but Jhorgab was terrified that the ancient Mage's shield might not hold. The little troll was frightened even to peek in the window of Hannu's cottage, the small dwelling alive with Mage-energy. The power swirled and foamed around the two men, strands of energy so intense that even the magic-insensitive troll could see them clearly. Mulder was aglow, sparks flying from every inch of his skin, lightning bolts flashing from his hands, only to be absorbed into the golden shield Hannu had constructed around him. How it could continue to hold, Jhorgab didn't know, and he could see the strain beginning to tell on Hannu. The Mage was leaning against the door, his fists clenched, his eyes closed, veins pounding beneath the surface of his flesh. So much power... and it pounded at the shield, battering with Mulder's fury, a force raging almost beyond comprehension. Something was going to break soon, and when it did...Jhorgab could only pray he wouldn't be in its path. - - - - - Mulder couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. And what he felt was a loss so deep that it roared within him, an ache that could never be satisfied, a need so intense that it poured though his veins like liquid fire, searing his flesh with all the agony of hell itself. He'd nearly lost Scully before, and the pain of that was magnified a million times now; for he had now what he hadn't then - the actuality of their love. She was a part of him, an integral, inseparable half of his soul, and without her, he was incomplete, shattered, broken. He leaned his head back and howled his anguish at the ceiling, screaming until his throat was raw, his lungs were empty, his body starved for oxygen. And still he cried, a river of tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks, his hands clenched into fists so tight that he had gouged bloody wounds into his palms. And still he raged, Mage-power boiling helplessly around him, shooting electric shocks up and down every nerve in his body, turning the air around him into a thick blue soup. And still he fought, drawing in every ounce of energy, focusing every remnant of his will, into one, last, powerful thrust. Drawing in one painful gulp of air, he sucked it all in, every strand of power and need and anger and desperation he had, and wrapping it all up into one single, extraordinary force, he released it all at once. The world exploded in a ball of living fire so intense it rivaled the sun itself. Mulder's eyes were blinded, but he didn't need to see. He felt through senses so acute they trembled with the movement of the air itself. The barrier trapping him shimmered, held...then broke with a deafening clap of thunder. Hannu was lifted off his feet and tossed like a feather on the wind across the room. He struck the wall hard, and then dropped, barely conscious to the floor. Mulder was off, faster than a startled deer, through the door and across the road, faster than he'd ever run in his life. The door to Jasta's cottage was hardly a barrier, he blasted it open with his mind, bursting through the opening, his entire being focused on only one thing. She met him before he'd taken two steps into the room, hurdling into him so suddenly that she tumbled them both to the ground. He didn't care, she was in his arms, her hands scurrying up and down the length of his body like writhing serpents. His arms enclosed her in an iron cage, tangling his fingers into her hair and forcing her mouth to his. The kiss was brutal, grinding, bruising -- exhilarating. She moaned into his throat, clawing at his back, tangling fingers into his hair, nearly tearing it free of his scalp as she clutched at the dark silken strands. //DANA!\\ The shout of her name was the only sensible thought that could escape his mind, the rest was lost in a waterfall of irrational sensation. He ripped at her clothes, never removing his mouth from hers, caught in a frenzy of blind lust. His need blasted away any veneer of civilization and she responded with equal animalistic fury, hissing as she rubbed her body against his. Wrapping her legs around one of his, she rutted against the solidity of his thigh, keening her frustration at the barriers of cloth and leather that separated skin from skin. He was already tearing her tunic away, growling low in his throat as the fabric ripped free, leaving only a thin silk shirt between her and his needy hands. That was gone with one violent motion, and then he was upon her, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands taking possession of her breasts and belly and sides, kneading her, stroking her, gripping her with brutal strength. Her head tossed back, laying on the floor amid the fiery pillow of her hair, her voice rising above them, beating at his senses like a hammer against an anvil, molten silver, inflaming him. Answering her with a low bass rumble, thunderous, beating like the drumbeat of a heavy-metal band, he ground his hips into hers, his aching cock straining against the confines of his pants, feeling the heat of her body through their clothes. She tore at his robe, nearly strangling him before she could toss it aside, but he never faltered, never missed a beat. Ravishing her mouth again with hard slashing strokes of his tongue, clashing his teeth against hers, he tugged at her belt, yanking it open, then pulling her pants down as far as he could reach. Her hips arched upwards, an offering to him, wanton and desperate, even as she fumbled for his own pants, hissing again into his lungs, as she struggled with the buckle. He moved to help her, burying his face between her breasts, as he reared up onto his knees. Together, they managed to get his pants down just enough to free his straining genitals, and she closed her hand upon him with a feral cry of satisfaction. His own groan swallowed against her sweaty skin, he bucked down into her grasp, every ounce of blood in his body rushing downward in response to her demanding touch. Suddenly lightheaded, eyes unable to see anything but a starfield of blazing light, he slid back down upon her. One hand still holding his cock, squeezing, thumb pressing down into the tip, forcing a muffled scream from his lip, she dug her other hand into his ass. Her legs spread, her hips rotated upwards, she demanded him with every ragged breath that escaped her swollen mouth and every pulse of her heartbeat. She was a furnace below him, radiating waves of fire, her skin searing his. She was living flame and desire and female in a way that he'd never imagined anyone could be. She was primal and feral and demanding, tearing at his heart and soul. She was his mate, and he was hers, and nothing mattered in the universe except that he possess her totally and completely, then and there, time standing still as he strained for her, guided by her, and found her so ready for him that the slide into her body was like falling into a hot scented bath. The sensation as he plunged down into her was cataclysmic, every nerve ending in her body exploded at once. She shrieked her satisfaction to a blind universe, eyes clamped shut, hands clawing at his back, scraping his skin violently. He was hard and strong and male, filling every crevice of her being. He was savage and fierce and magnificent, taking possession of her, hands holding her roughly as he plunged in and out of her in a dance as old as life itself. He was her mate, and she was his, and nothing mattered but this moment, the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth tearing at her breasts, his maleness thrusting forcibly into the yawning cavern in her belly. She drew bloody streaks down his back, he drove her mindlessly into the floor. He growled low in his throat, she keened her satisfaction high. Their mouths tangled, their tongues dueled, their hips rocked...until she wrapped arms and legs around him and squeezed tighter than a boa constrictor around its prey and pushed them both towards the edge of the volcano. He fought back, rising from her, then shoving deep one last time, exploding within her, toppling them both into a consuming blaze that ate away their awareness and left them floating in dark oblivion. - - - - - The battle continued past the night and long into the following day. Hannu threw everything he had into confining Mulder, but the enraged younger Mage broke through twice more before Hannu was able to devise a series of spells that would stop him before he could reach his bondmate. It wasn't a matter of magical strength, for Hannu had learned the hard way that Mulder could easily overpower him; instead it was the long decades of experience which he had had to fall back on, and in the end it was just - barely - enough. Drawing on every last vestige of power he had, Hannu devised a concentric ring of barriers around Mulder, including a powerful sleep spell which increased in strength the further Mulder got from Hannu's cottage. That took its toll, Mulder dropping from his feet to crawl on his knees, then down to pull himself like a lizard along the ground, desperately fighting unconsciousness, obstinately shaking aside anything but the insistent, blinding need to reach Scully, until he collapsed across the dusty roadway, hands still clawing at the ground as though they alone could carry him towards her. Hannu picked Mulder up gently, bringing him back inside to lay him gently on the couch. The ring still blazed on his finger, and Hannu's brief attempt to touch it made him leap back with singed fingers. Still the spell held, fed by Mulder's own emotions, a bottomless pit of loss and loneliness that waited in his nightmares, held at bay only by the touch of Scully's love. Mulder moaned and shifted, struggling even in his sleep, and Hannu held him still with surprising tenderness...understanding engraved in his sorrowing eyes. - - - - - Shannon was getting desperate. She'd been forced to restrain Scully, binding her wrists and ankles to keep her confined to the bed. The woman raged senselessly, alternating between bouts of heartwrenching sobs and feral cries. Shannon had done all she could to soothe her, talking for hours on end, about everything and anything. Yet, nothing penetrated the haze of loss and anger in Scully's shattered blue eyes. Dirty and tear-streaked, bruises purpling her entire body, she strained against the cloth ropes holding her down, rubbing her wrists raw. Throughout it all, the ring on her finger blazed an unearthly light, throwing blue sparks every time she moved, burning white-hot to the touch. Hannu had told them the key was removing the rings, but every attempt ended up in little more than scorched fingers. Until, finally, Shannon had had enough. Scully was tossing and turning wildly, hair a wild red tangle, through which she snarled like a woodscat. Grime streaked her cheeks, and lips were swollen and bleeding. She convulsed like an epileptic in a fit, and Shannon's own eyes were swimming in tears. This couldn't go on any longer. It had to stop now. Closing her eyes and offering a prayer to any and all gods that might be listening, Shannon grabbed for the gleaming ring. Her fingers closed on gold so hot it should have melted in her palm, her skin burned, pain searing its way up her nerves in a silent scream. She bit down on her own lip so hard it broke and bled, but she would -- not -- let go. Yanking with every ounce of strength she had in her slender body, she pulled on the ring. "Shannon, NO!!" Jhorgab screamed the moment he realized what she was doing, but she would not be stopped. "Come off, damn you!" she shouted, as she felt the ring resist, snagging itself on Scully's knuckle. Shannon twisted and tugged, pulled, and demanded, working it free inch by agonizing inch. Her hand felt like she was bathing it in pure fire, the skin charring, muscle and nerve searing, but she refused to stop. Jhorgab seized her shoulders, trying to draw her away, but she took hold of that small circle of bespelled gold and glued her fingers to it. Jhorgab pulled at her, she pulled at the ring, and suddenly...together...accompanied by a horrific keening cry from Scully, the ring came free and they collapsed to the floor. The ring tumbled out of Shannon's hand, clanking softly to the floor. It rolled away towards the door, spun on end, then fell silent and cold. Shannon curled up around her wounded hand, clutching it to her chest, finally releasing the wracking sobs of anguish that had been building within her for hours. Giving the now quiescent ring a fearful, suspicious glance, Jhorgab crawled over to Shannon and wrapped his stocky arms around her. Jasta had been staying as far out of the way as possible, but now she ran forward, kneeling down beside them. "Easy, child, let me see your hand," she said firmly. Shannon ignored her at first, curling up into Jhorgab's embrace, but the elf matron was insistent. Peeling the girl's arms apart, she took hold of Shannon's wrist. Shannon couldn't bear to look, her eyes squeezed shut as she breathed out her tears. Jasta slowly and carefully unfurled Shannon's fingers, one by one, eliciting gasps of pain with each one, then suddenly she froze. Jhorgab looked over the top of Shannon's dark head, startled to find Jasta staring at Shannon's hand with shock etched into her elven features. The troll's face screwed up in horror, barely finding the strength to look down himself...and then he gasped aloud. "Shannon -- LOOK!" he shouted, his entire body shaking. "Look at your hand." "No...no," Shannon sobbed, but Jhorgab shoved her around. "Look, you're not really hurt!" "Wha -- " She blinked up at him through a liquid curtain to find him grinning toothily at her. His ears were bobbing excitedly. "Jhorgab," she stammered. "I ccccan feel it..." Slowly she angled her head down, peering through the corner of her eye, waiting to see the burnt seared flesh... and found... Clear, clean skin, unmarred, untouched. Her fingers flexed instinctively, and the pain abruptly receded. Her hand still cradled in Jasta's two, she closed it into a fist, the opened it up and turned it over. Not so much as the slightest reddening remained to mark the contact with the bespelled ring. - - - - - Mulder suddenly convulsed in Hannu's grip. The elder Mage released him, instinctively gathering strength to support his shields, but Mulder simply doubled over then collapsed, limply, long arms and legs dangling off the edge of the cushions. The right hand, burdened with the ring swung gently against the floor, and for the first time, Hannu could look directly at it without needing to protect his eyes. Falling to his knees beside the unconscious man, Hannu reached out first with his Mage-senses, and was startled to find the ring dim -- still gleaming with power -- but dulled and murky. Gingerly, prepared to be stung, Hannu tapped it with his forefinger. A slight electric spark jolted him. He yanked his hand back, then steeling himself, tried again. This time he was able to take hold of it. His breath catching in his lungs, almost unable to hope that this was over, he slowly drew up the length of Mulder's elegant finger. Easy...easy...he thought to himself, just a little more...and then...at last! The thick circle of gold came free in his hand, and he fell backwards onto the ground with a chortle of relief. Curling his fingers around the quickly cooling metal, he forced himself to cast one more spell, encasing the ring in a protective barrier, then exhausted, he closed his eyes, sprawled out on the floor, and slept. - - - - - Every bone, each knot of muscle and sinew ached. Not the joyous ache that came from vigorous exercise or the aftermath of lovemaking, but rather a grating, pounding ache that spoke of bitter violence. He felt ravaged, torn apart, the strain of lifting his eyelids and focusing his eyes on the waiting daylight almost too much to bear. He tried to groan and his raw parched throat protested, shooting yet another arrow of pain to his overburdened mind. "Mage Mulder?" a worried voice asked, and he blinked, trying to bring the green blur into focus. Shifting up on his elbows, his body creaked and a low moan settled in his chest, whistling past dry cracked lips. "No, lie still," the voice said again, too loud. He winced, shut his eyes, then tried again to open them. Blinking, he forced out a couple more tears from nearly drained ducts, and the haze began to clear. Swimming in front of his eyes was the heavy-browed face of a troll. A troll? Mulder jerked up, only to find large hands pushing his shoulders down, and an incessant chatter rippling past his ears. "Now, now, you must rest. The worst is over, for Shannon broke the spell you were under. By the Gods, such a terrible spell. I have never seen the like. I thought it would burn Shannon's hand right off, and then, when it was done, why there wasn't even a mark upon her. I can not believe it, but it is so. I am so very relieved of course..." Recognition struck, and Mulder tried to push out the name. Licking at his lips, he swallowed hard, then rasped harshly. "Jhorg...gaaa..." "Yes, it is I, Mage Mulder. But do not speak now. Be still. Scully is..." Mulder's entire body tensed...Scully! Memory flickered back, and though it was confused, images jumbled, broken, fragmented and out of place, he remembered enough to make his stomach boil. "Ssscccuuulllleeeee," he demanded, repeating it over and over again, hearing his voice crack and whine, sliding up and down the scale as he tried to communicate his need. His so desperate need. Another voice spoke down above him, this one deep and certain. "She is well. Sore and exhausted, as you are, but she will be fine. Can you reach her now?" Sense was hard to reach for, but Mulder had been born with more than his share of pure stubbornness. Fighting the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, he concentrated with all of his remaining rags of energy. Reach Scully? If only he could... //MULDER!!!\\ The cry of her mind-voice reverberated through his skull, making him wince in pain, making his heart skip a beat within his chest. He grabbed for her, feeling the psychic muscle pull with disuse, she was *so* far away. But she was there, tendrils of her thoughts frantic as they stretched towards him, demanding contact. Yes, he could almost...touch her...and suddenly he felt a breeze stir in his mind, carrying with it her scent. His hands clenched in front of him, reaching out...he could smell her, taste her fragrance on his breath. //SCULLY!!\\ he cried, and then she was there, enveloping him in her warmth. Her mind was unsteady, worn, the mindlink frayed and weak, but it was there, and it was real. "Oh God, Scully," he sobbed aloud, his eyes burning. //Mulder....\\ came the whisper of a response, and he forced what little strength he had left into the wave of love that built from his belly and washed up and outward, through the damaged link, to bathe her mind. A backwash brought the reassurance of her love, then like a receding tide, slowly began to fade. "Scully," he moaned, trying to reach for her again, but he didn't have the strength. Strong hands supported him, and insensible words of comfort surrounded him. But the link had faded, and he didn't even have the energy to close his eyes. He remained there, staring blindly at the ceiling, until he tumbled back into blessed unconsciousness. - - - - - Scully moaned as she came awake. Her first instinct was to reach for Mulder, and when she could not find his body close to hers, a sudden jolt of fear brought her to full awareness. Blinking, she sat up, only to gasp with pain. Her body felt like it had been run over by a truck. "Hey, take it easy," came a warm voice in her ear. Scully turned, drawing in a sharp breath as her body protested the sudden motion, and found Shannon watching her. The girl's amber eyes were bruised and swollen, red-lined and sallow. Scully's discomfort spread from body to mind, as she grappled with her uncertain memory, trying to recall what had happened. What little she did remember did not ease her mind. "Mulder..." she croaked, rubbing at her own sore eyes as she tried to focus on her surroundings. "He's all right. Well, he's a bit bruised and worn out, but he'll survive." Shannon forced a smile at her. Hesitantly tapping Scully's shoulder, she asked cautiously. "What about you? How do you feel?" "Like someone dropped me out of a fifth floor window," Scully replied wryly. Her wrists felt like they had been dipped in fire, and she brought up one arm to look, gasping aloud as she saw the deep-grooved channel that had been dug into her flesh. Dried blood was flaked around the purpling bruises, circling her wrist like a bracelet or... She looked up sharply at Shannon and the girl's face exploded with anguish. "I didn't know what to do! Hannu said we couldn't let you two together until we got the rings off you. But the rings burned anyone who tried to touch them, and you just kept screaming and trying to get to Mulder. I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself or someone else, Scully. I swear, I'd never have done it otherwise." Shannon's swollen eyes screwed up again, tears welling in the corners, and Scully instinctively reached out to reassure her. "It's okay. I know you'd never try to hurt me. If you did this, it was necessary." Even as she spoke, she glanced down at her hand, relief washing over her as she found the ring absent from her hand. Doing a quick internal check, she found that most of her injuries were surface. Painful, but easy to heal, and while she could feel Mulder's absence like a black hole in the pit of her belly, it was controllable. She wanted to see him, to be sure he was all right, but she could hold on long enough to gain her bearings. Shannon was biting back her tears now, the faintest of a smile breaking out on her lips. Scully smiled at her, though the gesture made her battered lips crack. She licked at them, then tried to smile again. She had control, dear blessed Mary, Mother of God, she had control. Shannon returned the smile, more fully, and then they flew into each other's arms. Scully hugged the girl tightly, stroking the waterfall of dark hair gently. "It's all right now, Shannon. Everything is going to be all right." - - - - - Hannu was a hard taskmaster, but Mulder and Scully were ready to meet his demands. Separated until he was satisfied with their control, they struggled with the lifebond, fighting to manipulate the connection between their minds. They learned to see through the other's eyes, and then to close the bond off to complete silence. And all the levels inbetween, tuning from words to images to concepts; from sight to sound to smell. They found that one could lead the other blindfolded through an obstacle course, without a single misstep. Mulder learned to focus his power through Scully, to cast a spell from across the village, extending the energy through her like light through a prism. He traveled with her into the body of a wounded elf, watching through her eyes, feeling the cells grow and move at her/their/his command. But the hardest lesson of all was learning to shut the bond down, to close off their sense for each other and stand alone within their own minds. Only when they could hold themselves separate for hours at a time, was Hannu satisfied enough to let them come together. Mulder swept Scully up into his arms, breathing in the scent of her. Even the deepest contact of their minds couldn't rival this sensation, the silk of her hair on his hands, the heat of her skin against his. The purr of her voice in his ears. "I love you," he whispered, laughter bubbling up in his throat. The sound was unexpected, so joyous, she couldn't help but respond in kind. Giving him a smile the sun itself would have envied for its warmth, she pressed herself against him, loving him with her brilliant aqua gaze. They hugged tightly, unwilling to pull apart, but Hannu cleared his throat harshly, reminding them they were not alone. They turned to him, both grinning warmly. He gave them a disapproving glare, but his eyes twinkled lightly. "Congratulations! You've both done well. But there is one last thing to do." He extended his hand, uncurling his fist to show them the rings, nestled together in his palm. "After all the trouble they've caused us, maybe we should just do without the rings. I don't see how they can help us, anyway." Mulder said, staring at the two small gold circles as though they were poisonous snakes ready to strike. Scully nodded agreement, no more willing than he was to even come close to the innocuous-looking jewelry. Hannu sighed, shaking his head. "They caused you trouble because you failed to use them properly. And because you didn't have the right training. You've learned how to manage your bond, yes, but the rings will allow you much tighter control and greater range. They are simply tools, the question is your ability to utilize them." Scully responded grudgingly. "I don't see why we need more than we have. What we can do now -- it's simply amazing." "Perhaps so, but what happens the next time Mulder gets really angry, or is required by circumstance to use his full Mage- strength? You have managed to walk with him through small spells, but do you think you can handle another outburst like the one you described in Fawnleaf? You *must* be able to bring him down, to shield him and yourself from the power. It is possible you could manage it without the aid of the stones, but they will make it far easier. Would you refuse a valuable tool simply because it is difficult to use?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. //What do you think?\\ he asked. //I don't like being near those things,\\ Scully replied, then her eyes darkened. //But he does have a point. With the problems in the Realm right now, I'm not sure we can turn down anything that might help.\\ Mulder rubbed at his chin, his mind racing. //I think we ought to give it a try. Most spells can be dangerous if they are misused, even the simplest ones. As long as we are in control of the rings, rather than letting them take control of us, we should be able to handle this.\\ She nodded, drawing in a deep breath and they both turned back to Hannu. "How does this work?" Hannu smiled brightly, approval softening his dark features. "First, you will each need to imprint a stone with your will. They had been keyed to another Mage and his Companion, which is partially why you had so much difficulty with them. I have negated the original mindpatterns, leaving essentially a blank slate. Now you must bend the joining spell to your own thought structure." "How?" Mulder asked intently. Hannu frowned, struggling to find a clearer explanation. "Every individual mind is different, unique. The thought structure is specific, the strength of the will, the touch of the personality. You must show the ring who you are, take it into yourself, then bend it to your own needs." He separated the rings, one into each hand, and held them out to Mulder and Scully. They glanced at each other, drawing support from the other's presence, then warily moved forward to take a ring. Mulder hefted the thick gold band in the palm of his left hand, cautiously studying the large oval-shaped sapphire. It blinked at him, like a small blue eye, quiet and apparently innocuous in his grasp. Scully was doing the same with hers, gazing intently at the honey-colored tiger's eye, resting in its gentle golden frame. Simultaneously, they both looked up to Hannu and he nodded firmly at them. Drawing in a deep breath, Mulder closed his eyes and focused his Mage-sight at the ring. He could see the strands of power woven into the metal, but they were thin, undirected. He concentrated on them, and they flared up, leaching onto his aura. As he focused on them, he could faintly hear Hannu's voice on the edge of his awareness, speaking with clear certainty. "Focus on it, make it respond to you. Control it..." Gritting his teeth Mulder took hold of those silvery strands of energy and wove them into shimmering braids with tendrils of his own aura. The braids wavered, twining around both the gold of the ring and his fingers, wriggling like worms on concrete. Grounding himself firmly, he pushed at those silver-blue coils and wound them around the ring, melding them into the gold, weaving a net around the stone. As soon as he began to push, they seemed to fall into place, something clicking in his mind, like a key fitting into a lock. The spell took hold, easing into connection with his mind, and he suddenly *knew* how to use it. Slipping the ring around his finger, he turned to Scully, finding her mimicking his motions. The strands around her ring were green and gold, and when she held her hand up to meet his, they wavered like ivy vines in the wind, reaching out for him. Their hands met with a visible spark, and their link snapped into awareness. Blue strands met green, twining around each other, melding into one long cord of light and energy. But this time it was under their willful control. Together they broadened the connection, then lengthened it, then thinned it to less than the size of a single hair in diameter. They drew their hands apart, and the bond stretched with them. It resisted, and they forced it to comply. It pulled, and they pushed, and won. It acquiesced with a blaze of sparks, easing from steel to elastic, letting them move apart and back together as they chose. Both laughed aloud, watching it glitter between their hands, then Mulder reached for his shield and slowly closed down his Mage-sight. When their eyes opened again to the visible world, the link was no longer visible, yet both could still feel it between them. They turned to Hannu and he smiled with satisfaction. "Well done! Well done indeed. Now, at last, you can begin to learn how to use them properly. After lunch we will start the next lesson." Mulder looked at Scully, she gazed up at him, and together they groaned aloud. End of Chapter Nineteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty Their final lesson over, Mulder and Scully sat across from one another at Hannu's table, tired but happy. The ordeal of breaking the bond-spell followed Hannu's lessons had given them the physical and emotional trial of their lives. But they had come through it, healthier in body and mind than they had ever been before. Jasta moved at the hearth, fixing their noon meal with a grace and ease of movement which belied her advanced years. Watching her, the auburn-haired warrior wondered once more about the friendly but unusual village. When the little elf had departed from the cottage after serving, Scully decided to satisfy her curiosity. With a smile she said, "I remember asking you about the villagers when we first arrived. Are you willing to tell us more now?" Hannu returned her smile somewhat ruefully. "I was not particularly cooperative, as I recall. Well, I will tell you what I can. Their stories belong to only them, of course. It would not be proper for me to tell you their stories without their permission. I'll tell you what I believe is appropriate. If I cannot satisfy all your questions, you may ask the villagers. I believe most would be willing to share their stories. You'll find them friendly and as curious about you as you are about them. As you can imagine, we don't get many visitors. Nor do we encourage them. But once you are here, you are one of us. "Montveil is a place of refuge. All of the beings here, or at least their ancestors, came here looking for peace, a safe harbor that existed nowhere else." He anticipated Mulder's question. "Yes, I know. Except for recent history starting with the invasion of the Dark Creatures, it appears we have enjoyed a peaceful, well-ordered existence. But there doesn't have to be war for beings to long for...a higher plane of existence, if you will. Here we have freedom from politics and the commercialism of the towns and larger villages. We have all chosen to set ourselves apart." Mulder nodded. "That's why there aren't any roads wide enough for traders' wagons. In fact, why you don't have any wagons in this village." "Precisely. Nothing needs to be carried anywhere. Our needs are few, and we produce enough to fill those needs ourselves. In years of bad harvest, I use my talents to make sure there is enough for all. And it isn't just the traders, with their preoccupation with business. We have freedom here from family expectations, arranged marriages, even the dictates of our auras if we so choose. We don't seek news of the outside world, and we don't want its influence. We merely wish to be left alone, to be able to spend our lives in contemplation, and in the some cases, to heal ourselves of wounds inflicted by the world." "Is there a common belief system?" asked Scully, fascinated. "You have so many species here, it's hard to imagine everyone would hold similar beliefs." "The only commonality is a deep love of personal freedom, including freedom from the rigid etiquette and ritual of the Realm. Our only tenet is to do no harm to another being's right to be as he or she wishes." "Are they free to leave?" Hannu nodded. "A few have left. When they have gained the inner peace they sought and feel ready to rejoin the world, they move on. Most don't, finding the outside world has nothing to offer them any longer. They have what they need here." "But...don't you worry about security? I mean, what stops those who leave from telling everyone about this place?" Scully queried. The Mage shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. No one has left in a very long time, certainly not since I came here. As far as I know, no one is even thinking about it. We remain secure. I like to think that it is because those who left so valued their time here that they would not want to jeopardize it for those who remain. Of course, " he admitted wryly, "it could also be that the village doesn't offer enough financial or political gain to motivate anyone to seek us out." Mulder looked at his host appraisingly, trying to determine if his question would upset the relationship they had been building with this man in the course of their lessons. "And why did you come here?" he asked softly. Hannu considered the question. "The elves have a saying. 'How can I wear clothing when you have been naked before me?' The details surrounding my coming here are still painful, even after season-cycles of trying to come to terms with it. But I have seen your pain, it is your right to see mine. "At the climax of the battle with the Black Mage, forces of incredible power were released. Neither of us was holding anything back, neither of us was considering safety or anything besides the total annihilation of the other. Something...happened. I don't know what, nor, I suspect, does my enemy. Everything became a whirlwind of color and then suddenly, I was consumed by blackness. "When I awoke, I realized I was somewhere else. A world of wonder, but also of chaos and darkness and eye-burning brightness. A frightening place, a place that might well have killed me." He broke off and stared into the middle-distance of the cottage for some time. "I had the great good fortune to come under the protection of one of the other-worlders, a female, who sheltered me and taught me what I had to know. Somehow I survived, becoming quite close to the one who was my savior. But I was never free of the longing to return home. Then, when I did, it was by accident, as traumatic as my leaving the Realm. In many ways," he murmured, almost to himself, "perhaps even more so." He was silent for several moments. "Anyway, I found myself back in the Realm - to this day I don't know exactly where - surrounded once again by the familiar. I started walking, dazed, not really having a destination in mind. As I walked through villages, I would notice new and different things, hear snatches of conversation that didn't quite make sense, changes in the language. After wondering for a while if I had indeed returned to my birthplace, I came to realize although I was back in the Realm, an inordinate amount of time seemed to have passed since I left. A difference in time I could not explain. "I kept wandering, looking for I know not what. Eventually I came here, or I should say, this is as far as I got before I collapsed. The villagers took me in. It was winter and I was still traumatized by my abrupt departure from the other world and delivery into this one. I hadn't had the wits to eat, and I wore only the clothing I had on when I was thrown from the other world, certainly not enough for the cold weather. The villagers knew nothing about me, but they took care of me - Jasta herself healed me, though it took a long time. Oh, they knew I was a Mage, at least the elves did. But they did not know I was Hannu, battler of the Black Mage. They knew only that, sick in body and spirit, I needed help, and they freely gave it. When I was better, I began to get to know everyone, and decided to stay. My spirit was not yet healed, and I welcomed the retreat from those who might know of me. As the season-cycles passed, I began to use my talents to help the villagers - and admittedly, to help myself. I put in place certain 'protections' to prevent unwanted outsiders from entering, and to prevent my old nemesis, if she still existed, from knowing my whereabouts until I was again ready to do battle. "So time passed. I became stronger, useful, even derived some small degree of happiness. The irony is that while in the world of Chaos, I longed to return to the Realm. Since back, I have longed for nothing more than to return to the woman I left there." Quiet consumed the little cottage as he turned to his own thoughts. Scully realized her eyes had filled with tears while Hannu told his story, and felt Mulder's hand upon her cheek, ready to wipe away any that threatened to fall. His mind was in hers, filling her with waves of comfort and peace. Hannu gazed at the lovers, a soft, sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. Without a word, he rose and left the cottage, seeking solace of his own in his special place. - - - - - Ballorca's wide posterior bounced as he bustled importantly down the stone corridor and out to the courtyard. Shuddering slightly as he surveyed the storm beyond the edges of the shield, he reached the Great Hall and tugged open one of the huge, iron-bound doors. Everywhere, beings were at work, putting the finishing touches on the scrubbing and polishing. Later, he would oversee the decoration of the huge ceremonial hall. The seamstresses were just finishing the banners - the green and gold of Andalor's family and the scarlet and pale gray of House Ranfaus; measures and measures of long silken bunting, to be swathed over and around the beams of the majestic ceiling and the columns supporting it. Everything must be perfect for the betrothal ceremony, the Minister of Protocol thought. Despite the unseemly squabbles of the villages, despite the cursed weather, everything must go perfectly. The elements were not cooperating, Ballorca thought sourly. Still, he had managed to organize a flawless coronation, had he not? Even with notice so short he barely had time to disperse the riders to all parts of the Realm with the invitations. And that had gone off without a hitch. The young king had done an excellent job reciting the ritual, most everyone had behaved themselves, the food and music and wine had been beyond criticism. He patted his rounded tummy. Yes, it had been flawless. And this would go equally perfectly. "Is that dust I see?" he called, outraged, to no one in particular. "And over there by the platform - the floor does not shine enough! Naroc, put your back into it!" Ballorca's words were greeted with grimaces, smirks, or shaken heads, but all the servants bent to their tasks with renewed vigor. The Minister of Protocol was difficult to deal with, at the best of times fussy and inflexible. But he never failed to organize a perfect affair. Besides, it was easier to conform to his wishes than to listen to his ranting, or worse yet, his interminable stories of how, fifty season-cycles before, the servants had worked better, longer, and more efficiently. Yes, Ballorca promised himself. He would set new standards in how things should be done. It would be a betrothal ceremony to remember. - - - - - Andalor gently closed the door to Reinald's chamber and wandered the corridors lost in thought. It couldn't go on much longer, that was clear. As it was, Reinald and Tarnor had managed to maintain the shield longer than anyone had expected. The shield held still, protecting the castle inhabitants from the freakish weather and Goddess knew what else. Outside the shield, fierce storms had raged for days, to be followed by a day of blazing heat that wilted vegetation half-drowned the day before. A brief but violent thunderstorm intervened, and close on its heels a snowstorm that lay a mantle of white beyond the courtyard walls. That had disappeared in the heavy rains that followed, bringing floods to villages already decimated by interspecies battles. Now Reinald and Tarnor slept, having renewed the shield yet again. Less sleep than coma, Andalor thought grimly. For the past few days, they had had to renew the shield more often as their powers weakened from the drain of their creation. The first shield had lasted more than two days. The last had begun to soften and waver after only a dozen candlemarks. After renewing the shield, both of the Mages had collapsed, unconscious. Sirisa found them seriously weakened and they had been carried once again to Reinald's chambers. The healer did what she could, but her abilities were limited when dealing with Mages and the effects of their power use. She only shook her head, and warned Andalor that another attempt could well prove fatal. He had some time to decide what to do, but precious little. His alternatives were laden with risk. To allow them to renew the spell again? The Mages could perish in the attempt. To fail to renew the shield? The foul weather was the least of their worries. Without the shield, there was nothing to prevent their enemy from killing anyone in the castle. He stopped by Shannon's room to check on Kyla's progress. The young king opened the door, experiencing the symptoms he always did here - his heart skipping a beat and a longing tearing at his insides. Where was Shannon now? Was she safe? Was she even alive? He poked his head in the door. "How is she?" he whispered. "She awakens for longer periods, but remains very weak. I have done what I can, Your Majesty." The healer sat clothed in her brown robes at the slumbering Kyla's bedside. "I know, and we're all grateful, Healer Sirisa. Will she recover fully, do you think?" "If given a chance to heal at her own pace." The healer smiled sadly. "She stands as good a chance as any one of us." Andalor sighed and nodded, only too aware of the meaning of Sirisa's words. As he continued down the hall, he considered the tension which gripped the entire castle. Everyone down to the kitchen servants now knew the cause of Corvay's death, and the terrible importance of the shield that separated them from a similar fate. Rumors flew. One had reached Andalor that Reinald had expired of exhaustion, causing the horrified king to tear from his bed to the Mage's quarters, only to find him sleeping peacefully. But that was days ago. Now deep unconsciousness replaced healthy sleep. Feeling older than his years, he knocked at Mandor's door and entered. Mandor and his wife and daughter were quartered in the small ballroom. The head of House Ranfaus and his daughter had taken the rough accommodations with good grace. The servants' hall, however, resounded with tales of the latest whining of Norilka, his wife, who had grown up surrounded by luxury and was accustomed to spending her days in indulgent idleness. One look at the noble and Andalor could see that he was about ready to saddle a horse to speed his wife on her way back home, storm or no. As if she would. "Your Majesty, welcome. Bristok, some tea, if you please." The troll nodded and began preparations at the hearth. Norilka remained standing after the king had taken a seat. Fanning herself dramatically, she spit out, "Don't make any for me." "That's not a problem," Bristok muttered under his breath. "If I don't get out of this room, I shall suffocate. By your leave, Your Majesty, " she said, in a tone that made it clear that she was leaving, whether he gave his consent or not. He nodded and she swept from the room. Mandor relaxed visibly with his wife's departure, and Livirnea appeared embarrassed over her mother's behavior. "Please excuse Norilka, King Andalor. She has been spoiled all her life and has little tolerance for what she perceives as hardship. Speaking for Livirnea and myself, we are most grateful for your kindness in offering us the protection of your castle." Tea was poured and tasted, then the noble went on, "News from House Ranfaus is not good. There has been extensive flooding in the area, and numerous assaults in the village. And, " he continued heavily, "two murders in the headquarters of the house itself." "None of it is their doing, " Andalor replied softly. "Try to remember that." He paused. Livirnea, mistaking the cause of his hesitation, stood. "If you wish to speak to my father on matters of the Realm, I can leave you to it." "No, stay, Livirnea. This concerns you as well and I know you well enough to value your counsel as much as your father's." The pale young girl nodded and sat again next to the king. "I'm sorry to say that things are becoming quite grim. Reinald and Tarnor are unconscious. I have no idea if they will awaken by the time the shield starts to fail. Even if they do, Sirisa has informed me that the next attempt to renew the shield spell may well kill them both. That's why I'm here... I don't know what to do." Mandor's brows drew together. "Bad tidings, indeed." "You can't let them try again," Livirnea said decisively in her low, melodic voice. "Even if they were successful in renewing the shield, it would last only six point eight candlemarks...approximately..." she trailed off. At Andalor's startled expression, she smiled guiltily. "Professor Neumann and I have been keeping track. He has introduced me to mathematics, by which one can predict such things, with even more accuracy than a seer. Andalor, the risks are greater than the possible benefit. The potential sacrifice of their lives will bring us only a brief period of protection. Simply put, it's not worth it." Andalor nodded. "And what say you, Mandor?" "I agree with my daughter. Perhaps even if the shield fails, no harm will come to us. Reinald and Tarnor would be throwing away their valiant lives for nothing. And indeed - if they died trying to protect us, would that not be another victory for our enemy?" "Well spoken. You're correct, of course, Mandor. I felt that way myself, but I am too close to Reinald to trust myself to decide objectively. Thank you, as always, for your wise counsel. Very well, when the shield fails, it fails. We shall let the Mages rest. They have done enough." He stood and extended a hand to Livirnea. "Now, with your permission, sir, I would ask for your daughter to join me in a walk around the battlements." Mandor rose. "Of course, Your Majesty. With the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, I'm sure you have much to discuss. By the way, have you heard from Mage Mulder yet?" Andalor's polite smile died. "No. Not yet," he said tersely. "Livirnea?" He took her arm in his and the couple left followed at a discrete distance by her Elven maid. Moments later, they had climbed to the battlements. The sky had grown brighter and the rains had finally stopped outside the shield. It felt odd to be there, high on the walkway adjoining the guard towers, and feel no wind, no chill, no dampness. "If the weather holds, we might be treated to a sunset later," Livirnea remarked. She glanced over at the king, who was gazing out over the wall, lost in thought. "I'm sure she's all right, Andalor." Startled, his head jerked around to face the pretty girl. "What? What did you say?" She gave a low, musical laugh. "I said, I'm sure Shannon is all right. That IS who you're thinking about, isn't it?" At his guilty expression, she shook her head. "It's all right, Andalor. I don't mind, I honestly don't. I want you to be happy. You've already made me so happy. My studies with Professor Neumann are fascinating. I don't know when I've been more excited and stimulated. I'm more sure than ever that my future lies in science. I think I've even surprised the Professor with how quickly I've caught on." He smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure you have, Livirnea. I never doubted that you would excel under his tutelage. I'm so very happy for you." He paused. "How...um...how do you know about Shannon?" "I often go to the kitchens to escape my mother's tantrums," she giggled. "Sometimes I even help knead the bread or wash the vegetables. My mother would faint if she knew what I was doing - that's what makes it fun. She doesn't believe ladies should do anything with their hands except needlework, or possibly play a little on the lute. Anyway, the servants have grown used to my being down there. At first they were careful what they did and said, but now that they know me, I hear all sorts of things. Several days ago I was entering the kitchens as an animated discussion was taking place, arguing the relative merits of Shannon and myself, and how she was sent away because you and she were getting too close." "Not entirely true, but true enough," admitted Andalor. "I don't think I understood what I felt, or how much I felt until she left." He chuckled wryly. "An odd conversation to have on the eve of our betrothal." "Not really," Livirnea smiled. "We both know the whole thing isn't real. Do you think there's any chance at all...?" "That they would call off the betrothal, and let Shannon and me...?" He shook his head. "Not a chance. The Council of Representatives would never allow it. Besides, Reinald's been through so much with the shield spells and Corvay's death and all, I have to go through with this and be as happy as I can be about it for him. He's the only family I have. And there's your reputation to think of. What would happen to you if the betrothal were canceled? Someone might think it was because of some flaw in you, and I would never put you in that position. I do value our friendship, you know." She smiled. "I know. And I wouldn't care about the betrothal, and any gossip. My mother would never get over it, but it really doesn't matter to me. I'm sorry, Andalor." He brushed back a pale strand of her hair that had escaped its braid. "It's not your fault." "Oh, I know that. I just feel like I'm getting the best of the bargain. I'm getting what I want more than anything in the world - a chance to study with someone really brilliant." She leaned against the top of the wall, resting her chin on her arms and surveying the green landscape. "You know, at the beginning of my visit here, I would look out my window and watch the warriors-in-training out on the practice fields - you know, Shannon and the other girls. Andalor, I envied them so much. They were so alive, and they had a purpose in life. After their training they would be USEFUL. Meanwhile, I was being taught to sit like a lady and to make polite, brainless, useless chatter and to try to attract a mate 'befitting my station in life'. I doubt that I have any warrior talent, but I would have changed places with any of them in a heartbeat." She tilted her head to one side to look at the young king. "Now I have my studies, a chance to be useful, doing what I love. And I have that only because of this betrothal. It makes me feel sad for you." He was touched by her sympathy for him. "Don't feel sad, Livirnea. Look at it this way, I could have ended up betrothed to Hortensa." They laughed together. "Or Gurtolle?" she asked teasingly. "Sweet Goddess! What have you heard in the kitchens about Gurtolle?" he yelped. "Never mind, I don't want to know! No, no fear there. I doubt the Council of Representatives would be comfortable with a queen who has seen the majority of them naked and knew their deficiencies first-hand." They laughed again, then gradually became quiet, locked in their own thoughts. "I'm just sorry you can't have what you want, too," Livirnea whispered. She reached over and clasped his hand. Andalor brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it before enfolding it in his own. He looked down on his kingdom with deep violet eyes. "At this point, I'd be happy if I just knew she was safe." - - - - - "...we'll have to get going on it when he comes back. Oh, Hannu! Good!" The Mage closed the door behind him and took a seat near the bondmates. "What can I do for you?" "Scully and I have been talking. While the time taken to learn to control our bond was necessary, it also postponed the primary purpose of our journey here - the protection of the Realm by the defeat of the Black Mage. Now we have to move as quickly as possible. Is there anything you can think of that might help?" Hannu shook his head. "I have been thinking about it, from the moment of your arrival. As I told you earlier, I threw everything I had at her. I hurt her, I could see that, but as far as killing her or rendering her powerless? No. Nothing I knew then or know now is enough." Scully sighed. "Well, we'll just have to get back to Fairwoods and hope that there will be strength in numbers," she said fatalistically. "That the combined power and talents of you two, plus Reinald and Tarnor, might make the difference. We've been holding off communicating with everyone back at the castle, hoping we'd be able to give them the news they've been praying for, but .... Mulder, why don't you get the crystals from the bag? We can at least let everyone know that we found Hannu and that we're safe." As Mulder went for the saddlebags, she went on. "It isn't the answer they were looking for, but I guess we don't have any better one to -" She broke off at Mulder's shout. "Scully, the scroll! I forgot all about it." He pulled the roll of parchment from the saddlebag and sat near Hannu on the bench by the table. Carefully he unfurled it and set some heavy pottery bowls at the corners to keep it flat. "Reinald gave me this scroll, Hannu. He said it was extremely old but is believed to have some importance. As you can see, except for this short passage here, it's written in strange symbols, the meaning of which has been lost over the season-cycles. Reinald said that there had been periodic attempts to translate it, all of them unsuccessful." Hannu surveyed the scratches and squiggles on the scroll. "I know of this. It's called the Laetara scroll, from the caves it was discovered in ages ago. It was legendary even when I was young, but I never had the opportunity to study it. Now that I see it for myself, I must say we're no better off. I haven't a clue what it says." Mulder couldn't disguise the excitement in his voice. "But I do! Have a clue, I mean. I just wish I had thought of it earlier than I did. I have an eidetic memory - I remember everything I read. When we were on our way here, we stopped off in Goodearth Caverns. In the caves I noticed some frescoes with odd symbols. Later, looking at the scroll, I finally recognized the similarity. By that time, however, there wasn't a gargoyle in sight, and we were unable to locate one that spoke Garsintil for the rest of our journey." "You know, I've been thinking about that," interjected his bondmate. "If those symbols are Garsintil, why didn't Tarnor recognize them? He undoubtedly speaks the language - his childhood home was decorated with the symbols and his mother's a linguist." "I'm sure he speaks Garsintil, Scully. But I think it's very possible that Tarnor has never seen the scroll. Reinald had to hunt for it himself and the chest he finally found it in looked like it hadn't been opened in eons, judging by the layers of dust and the creaky hinges. I think either Reinald forgot he had it, or it just never occurred to him to show it to Tarnor. After Reinald gave it to me, I packed it away. Tarnor came in later, but he never saw the scroll." "I hate to burst your bubble, Mulder," she persisted, "but what about other gargoyle Mages? During all that time, there must have been a gargoyle Mage who took a look at it." "Maybe not. Remember what Mikora, the village elder, said? Mage-talent is very rare in gargoyles. Plus, they tend to stay close to home and with their own kind. And even if there were a few gargoyle Mages scattered around, who's to say they were in a locale where they would have gotten a chance to look at the scroll?" "Maybe." Scully sounded far from convinced. Hannu studied the scroll in silence for a few moments. "You said the symbols are similar. How similar?" Mulder considered the question. "These seem more ornate than the ones in the cave. But the flow of the lines, those odd curving marks, there," he said, pointing. "Those are all very close to what I saw in the cave. I mean, isn't it possible that the scroll is written in an archaic form of Garsintil?" "Oh, of course it's possible. I have one question, however. If you suspected you recognized the language of the scroll, why did you not cast a language spell to test your hypothesis?" He looked at the younger Mage and a silence fell over the chamber. Mulder appeared stunned for a moment, then covered his face with his hands. "Because I never thought of it," he groaned. "Damn, I'm an idiot!" Playfully, Scully ruffled his hair. "Come on. Smile, Mulder! It's not like the scroll was the only thing on your mind. Between the Black Mage trying to kill us in a dozen inventive ways and the physical problems we were having with our bond, I'm surprised you knew which end was up." Laughing, the older Mage said, "Don't be too hard on yourself. Would you care to do the honors, or shall I?" "You go ahead," he mumbled, still mortified. Hannu closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his arms to shoulder height. He spoke in the tongue of Mages for some time. Scully thought she felt a slight tingle ripple through her, then felt it echoed back from Mulder through their bond. The Mage dropped his arms. "All right, let's take a look at this now." While the scroll appeared to be unchanged, Scully found that she now had the capacity to link the symbols with the sounds they represented. "Yacho no slarish," she read. " 'Not in our time' - is that right?" Mulder nodded. "That's what I got out of it. Hannu?" Distractedly, he grunted his assent as his eyes devoured the writing. "Apparently, this is some sort of prophecy. It's not going to be easy, though, getting some meaning from this. The language spell works well, but it's limited. Only those words that have a direct correlation in New Realm will translate properly. The others either won't translate, or the meaning the spell gives them might be skewed. If it was indeed written more than a twelve hundred season-cycles ago, a lot of words have passed from use since then. I see several words here that aren't translating. And if I remember correctly, the literary style of the day was so woven with symbolism that it was exceedingly difficult to understand." "Well, maybe we can figure them out by the context," said Scully doubtfully. "The only way we'll know is to work at it. It may take some time, but I think it will be worth it. There's something in here we need to know, I'm sure of it." Hannu left the room briefly and returned with parchment, brushes and ink. Then they got down to work. For the next two candlemarks, the three poured over the scroll, their scrutiny punctuated by debates over the exact interpretation of a word or phrase. Without doubt, Hannu's unique first-hand knowledge of the language patterns of ages past was invaluable. But Scully found the lapses in the language spell frustrating, reminiscent of when they had first arrived in the Realm and were dependent on the language spell for communication. It had been better than not being able to communicate at all, but had still motivated them to learn New Realm as soon as possible. Finally Mulder threw down his brush. "Okay," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. "Let's see what we've got. Shannon! When did you get here?" "Oh, about a candlemark ago. Thanks for noticing," she smiled sweetly. She put a platter of meat and bread and vegetables in front of him. "I made dinner, I thought you might be hungry when you finally came up for air. Besides, I figured that Jhorgab's whining would disturb your concentration." "I was not whining," the troll retorted, insulted. "I was merely pointing out that a great deal of time had elapsed since I last ate." "You were whining," the teenager said flatly. "So what's so spellbinding?" Hannu's amber eyes twinkled as he looked up at her. "Interesting choice of words. We were translating the scroll that Reinald gave Mulder." "That's what was so fascinating that you couldn't take your eyes off it?" she asked incredulously. She turned back to the hearth for another platter, muttering. Scully alone caught her words and giggled. //She said some people need to get a life,\\ she explained in response to Mulder's questioning look. Shannon and Jhorgab finally joined them at the table and they all began eating. "All right, so what's up?" she asked, munching on a stalk of what looked like purple celery. Jhorgab raised an inquisitive eyebrow but otherwise kept his attention focused on his plate. Mulder smiled. "Get ready to be enlightened, whether you want to be or not. This scroll is apparently some sort of prophecy, written who knows how long ago - well over a thousand season- cycles, at least - by some being who was a seer." "Undoubtedly a gargoyle," offered Hannu, between bites. "And not only because it's written in Early Garsintil. As elves are noted for their inherent talent in magic, gargoyles have always produced the prophets with the most accurate vision." "So what does this prophecy say?" she inquired. "Scully, would you mind reading so I can eat? I'm starved." She took the parchment with a smile as Mulder applied himself to his meal. " 'Not in our time but in the twilight of our march there shall be a foul odor which blankets the land. All light shall cease, consumed by darkness, all that survives shall be in bondage, in thrall to the night. The very gods shall tremble, and the skies weep and rail. But rivers of tears shall not cleanse the land of the stain of spilled life Nor the stench from once-sweet vapors. From the swirl of time must he come, as in a feverdream. Be he like the Archer, with his quiver and bow. Archer, may thy first clear blue arrow be the ancient powers, long forgotten. So hold thy hand upon the beasts and elements. Yet, sufficeth this not, for the strength of the dark will sap the power of light like the ' - something - ' drains the ' - something.' Perish not thy hope and thy resolve The black of night may yet be vanquished by the blue skies of day. Mark well thee my words, here writ in tears, oh thee that hath come seeking. Use well and true the elusive powers, But have also in thy quiver two more arrows as pure-blue as the sky The next, the Guardian shall speak' - something - 'that lights a candle against the dark. Then, draw thee the third and strongest of the arrows - straight, piercing, one with the blue-cloaked Archer. Loose it from thy bow, this last and best arrow, this' - something - 'which outshines the deepest night. By this way only may the dark be sent into the void of eternity and banished from our suffering land. Heed thee well my words, lest my vision be in vain and all perishes from the land.' " "Great. But what's it all mean?" asked Shannon, puzzled. "It means," said Scully, "that it's time to get in touch with our friends back at Fairwoods. - - - - - The two Mages sat huddled by the fire, wrapped in thick woven lap robes while Andalor hovered anxiously nearby. Pouring out the restorative, Sirisa handed each Mage a mug. "I've put a little something extra in this. Drink it up." She looked sternly from Tarnor to Reinald. Meekly he took a sip, then grimaced. "You do my friend Corvay one better, Healer Sirisa. This is truly the most vile stuff I've ever been forced to drink." She smiled brightly. "Ah, a good sign - you're strong enough to complain." "Go on, Reinald, drink it," Andalor urged. "Well, only because I have to regain my strength to renew the shield spell." Wrinkling his nose, the Mage tipped the cup back, missing Andalor's set expression. When he had emptied it and set it down on the table next to him, the king cleared his throat. "Reinald...there will not be another shield spell." "Andalor, don't be difficult. There must be another renewal. Now, we will hear no more about it." "I will not have you and Tarnor risk your lives further. You have done well - very well - to keep our enemy at bay. But now is the time to stop. Before this spell costs us more than we have gained. I have sought Mandor for counsel, and he agrees. No more." "But Andalor, without the shield any one of us is helpless against our enemy," Tarnor said. "Any one of us, any time, could be cut down. You're the king, you must be protected." "And if you both die in the next attempt, who will there be to protect me then? I need you both alive and well if we are to have any chance to pull the Realm back together." He left the center of the room and walked over to them. He appeared very young and very vulnerable. "Not to mention the fact that I love both of you very much, and could not bear to lose you." In a voice that disguised well his lack of strength, Reinald declared, "We have survived thus far, we shall continue to do so, eh, Tarnor?" The gargoyle weakly nodded his large gray head. His ears, normally pointed skyward, hung limply around his face. "No one can fault your courage, Mages, but your common sense is lacking," commented Sirisa candidly. "Mage Tarnor, you would certainly not survive the next attempt. And I doubt that Mage Reinald would either." "That's it, then," replied the young king. "The shield will fail in a few candlemarks. When it does, there will be no attempt to renew it." "Andalor! You are not being reasonable! You are not thinking of the Realm," argued the Royal Mage. "The Realm is precisely what I'm thinking of," Andalor said softly. "I'm thinking of the mess it is in, and how it would be impossible to clear up that mess without your support and advice and talents." Stubbornly Reinald shook his head. "The renewal will take place when the present shield begins to waver. That is the way it must be." Andalor sighed and crouched beside the man who had been his guardian and protector since he was a small child. "Reinald, I'm sorry. I have never used my rank against you, but this time it appears the only way you will listen. As your king, I am commanding you. There will be no renewal of the shield." As the Mage's mouth popped open in shocked protest, the young king said gently, "That was a direct command, Royal Mage. The command of your king. Obey it." There was silence in the spacious chamber. When at length Andalor saw that the Mages had accepted the command, however grudgingly, he stood and said in a brisker voice, "Good! Now, I must see Ballorca. He has something he's upset about - but then again, he always does." He started for the door. "Andalor, wait!" The young king turned. "Have we heard from Mulder?" Somberly, the king paced back to the hearth. "No. Not a word.": There was a knock at the door, and at the call to enter the Professor popped his head in. "Ah, Your Majesty. I thought I would just check on the welfare of my partners in crime." He completed his entry and shut the door. "Ex-partners, Professor Neumann. There will be no more shield spells." The Professor nodded and looked relieved. "Thank you. Did it take an act of the Council of Representatives to make the two most obstinate Mages in all the Realm come to their senses?" Andalor chuckled. "It took more than that - my command." He nodded approvingly. "Good. I was not looking forward to being an accomplice in their deaths." "Sit down and have some tea, Gunther. Sirisa, would you mind? Pitir is sitting with Kyla at the moment." "Not at all, Mage." "And not that filthy muck you last gave me." The healer stifled a chuckle and turned to ready the tea. "All right, Andalor. What are we to do then? Since we are not to renew the shield - and it wasn't fair making it a command, by the way; you knew I would have no choice but to obey - and since we haven't heard from Mulder and Scully yet, what do you suggest we do?" "I believe the time has come to use the Oracle Cloud to contact them. We have to know if there will be any assistance, either from them, or from Hannu if they have managed to find him." "I agree," Gunther said. "As do I," sighed Reinald. "I must admit to being extremely anxious about their welfare." "Have you the strength to use some power to activate the Oracle Cloud?" Gunther asked. Reinald was about to answer when he was interrupted by Sirisa, holding out mugs. "He will when he has had a second mug of my restorative," she said. He scowled and took the mug from her, recoiling as the odor of the steam reached his nostrils. "Bah!! Why is it you healers never let well enough alone? Is it part of your training, I wonder, to -" "Reinald, look!" Tarnor was sitting up and pointing to the table in the center of the chamber, a fearsome grin on his face. Under its silken blue shroud, the Oracle Cloud glowed brightly. "Quick, help me up," urged Reinald. With the assistance of the Professor and the young king, he staggered from his chair to the table and swept the cover from the large crystal ball. "Reinald? Reinald, are you there?" The voice sounded very far away, and the vapors in the glass swirled and dipped. Together Tarnor and the Royal Mage closed their eyes, opened their hands and muttered a few words. Gradually, Mulder's face coalesced into view. "Reinald, Tarnor. Is that you? My God, what's been happening there? You two look awful!" "Mage Mulder! It's wonderful to see you! Is Scully there?" "Hello, Reinald!" a familiar voice called from the distance. "Yes, she's here. And Shannon." "All right!" Andalor exulted quietly, pumping his arm in a gesture he had seen Shannon use. "And Jhorgab - oh, I forgot, you don't know him. He's someone we kind of picked up on the way. And someone else." Mulder's face moved from view, to be replaced by that of a man in late middle age, with a salt and pepper beard and silver hair. The blue aura of a Mage shimmered around him. "Do I have the honor of addressing the Royal Mage Reinald?" said the man in a deep pleasant voice. "Goddess!" Reinald gasped. "Is it possible? You do, Mage. And do I have the incredible good fortune to be addressing Mage Hannu?" The lips parted in a wide smile to reveal even white teeth. His amber eyes sparkled. "I can't speak to your good fortune, but yes, I am Hannu." All conversation stopped as a cheer went up in Reinald's quarters. Even the normally reserved Professor was almost dancing with joy and relief. They finally turned back to the Cloud. Hannu had his back turned to the crystal, conversing with someone out of sight. "What's going on?" "It appears they are celebrating, Warrior Healer Scully." He returned to the crystal. "One moment, Mage Reinald. Warrior Healer Scully wishes to speak with you." "Reinald! Goddess, it's good to see you, but - you look ill!" "Let me assure you, Scully, I am much better than I was before you contacted us." "As you can see, Reinald, we found Hannu." Mulder stood close to Scully so both could see and be seen in the crystal. "And the other part of your mission?" he inquired delicately. Mulder smiled. "Mission accomplished, as they say. And Reinald - we've translated the scroll. Most of it, anyway. And we might have some insight into how to deal with our enemy." His voice throbbed with barely controlled excitement. "Goddess!" breathed Tarnor, gripping the king's arm. "We have a chance now!" "Reinald, I don't think we want to waste time traveling back on foot. What's the possibility of Gating us back?" "I know for certain that we can't afford to waste that amount of time. Much has transpired in your absence." "None of it good, it appears," Mulder said grimly. "Certainly not much of it. But I must confer with our friends, here, about the Gate." Reinald's form moved out of view, and the Professor took over. "Both Reinald and Tarnor are severely drained, Mulder. They have been using their power to construct a shield to protect the castle from our enemy. A radical step, but a necessary one, after the tragedy." A scuffling was heard, and Shannon burst into view. "Andalor! Andalor, are you all right?" "I'm here and I'm fine, Shannon." He grinned, absurdly pleased that she had been worrying about him. Shannon retreated to the background, muttering about men being more trouble than they were worth, and that Andy had better wipe that smile off his face, she hadn't been worried about him personally, far from it.... Mulder smothered a smile lest his halla take offense, then turned back to the crystal he held. Reinald finally reappeared. "All right, we can help Gate you back, but I'm afraid you and Hannu will have to take the brunt of the power expenditure. What Gunther said was true, Tarnor and I are somewhat depleted at the moment. We should have recovered somewhat by the time the shield fails. When will that be, Gunther?" "Approximately two point seven candlemarks." "Mulder, we can't bring you in through the shield. By the time it goes down, Tarnor and I should be replenished enough to anchor the Gate, but I'm afraid you won't be able to count on us for any more than that." There was a mumbled discussion out of view of the Oracle Cloud. Then Mulder reappeared. "That won't be a problem. Hannu and I will handle the actual Gate construction from this end. Just anchor the Gate on your end and we should be fine. When do you think - say, three candlemarks?" Reinald looked around at his companions for consensus. "Agreed. Send us a flash with one of the crystals when you're ready to begin. Just enough to light the Oracle Cloud. We'll take that as your signal." "Great. Reinald, it will be wonderful to be back." "It will be wonderful to have you back. Three candlemarks, then. Take care, Mulder." End of Chapter Twenty THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty-One "Are we all packed up? Shannon? Jhorgab?" Scully made a last minute check of everyone's belongings as Hannu strolled over to join the group in the gathering twilight. "The village has been warned to expect some Mage histrionics," he remarked dryly. "The healer is with the more magic- sensitive beings to forestall any ill-effects from the creation of the Gate." Mulder nodded. "I guess we're ready then." "Are-are you s-sure we need to do this?" stammered Jhorgab. "Speaking for myself, I wouldn't mind the journey back on foot. Lots of fresh air, beautiful scenery.... I'm sure we could all use a nice walk." "A nice fifteen day walk? I don't think so," Shannon retorted. "Now stop being such a wimp and get over here." Scully patted the troll on the shoulder kindly. "It's all right, Jhorgab. Your part is easy. Just stay with Shannon and be ready to move when I tell you." "Yeah, just think. Dinner is probably waiting back at Fairwoods. Dinner at the castle, from the Royal Kitchens. Food fit for a king," tempted Shannon. "Does that help?" "Somewhat," said the troll dubiously. "But there better be plenty of it!" Still nervous, he attached himself to Shannon's side. "Okay, everybody ready?" Mulder took a crystal from the pouch hanging from his belt, grounded himself, and concentrated. After a few moments, he dropped it back into the little sack. "They should have gotten the signal by now and hopefully are on their way out of the castle." "Wait! Don't you have to talk to them, to be sure they're in position?" "That won't be necessary, Shannon," smiled Hannu. "It will take us a little time to create the Gate on this end. Besides, while Mulder and I are casting, we'll be able to communicate with the Mages in Fairwoods. Just be ready to move when Warrior Healer Scully tells you to." At her nod, he and Mulder withdrew a few paces from the group. Facing each other, they stood stock still, eyes down, arms very slightly raised with palms up. Then their lips began to move and their auras went from bright to blinding in a flash. The others raised cupped hands to their eyes, trying to shut out the fierce illumination yet still see what was transpiring. The cadence of the Old Realm words sent shivers of anticipation down their backs, as louder and louder the Mages chanted. Bass blended with baritone in a song of power, of space and of time. Barely perceptible through the glare of white-blue, bars of energy encircled their arms, coursing down to emerge from their fingertips as barely controlled bolts of raw power. Now, their arms gradually ascended in perfect tandem. Lightning cut across the twilight heavens as if in envy of the Mages' power. With a hoarse shout, they flung their arms upwards to the offended sky, a huge broad tower of pure energy leaping from their hands and up as far as the travellers' challenged eyes could see. The Mages trembled with the forces they were unleashing and trying to control, bending the dazzling ribbon of energy into an arc. "Almost. Almost," Scully muttered. "Hold it steady." Loudly, she called to the others above the roar and whine of the energy and the rumble of thunder. "Be ready! It won't be long now!" Shannon and Jhorgab clutched their saddlebags in awe as Mulder, with a swift downward movement of his arm, sent one end of the shaft of power deep into the earth. A moment later, Hannu swept his hand toward the ground, burying the free end of the arc beneath the soil. A perfect, glowing archway, six meters high and three meters across, stood before them. Suddenly, there was a slight waver in the brilliance. Not so much that anyone would normally notice, but Scully was a veteran of Gating. She also had the advantage of being in Mulder's mind. Her presence there was a light one, not enough to distract the Mage, but enough to be party to his communications with the Mages in Fairwoods. Buffeted by a sudden wind, she yelled to Shannon and Jhorgab, "Something's wrong!" Mulder and Hannu shuddered with the effort of creation and control of the incredible power of the Gate. Mulder slid his eyes toward the older, more experienced Mage, who held his gaze as the gale whipped their cloaks about them. Then he blinked. Scully shouted to the others, "Something's interfering with the Gate at the other end. Reinald and Tarnor can't anchor it properly, and - NO!" The idea was in his mind and he had acted upon it before she could stop him. Suddenly, a moment after Hannu had blinked, Mulder was through the flickering arch, and was gone.... ....Reinald and Tarnor struggled with the last of their strength to control the Gate. One end was planted firmly in the earth before them. The other lashed and twisted wildly in the air, like some monstrous incandescent cobra, threatening to destroy not only the Gate but its creators as well. Tauntingly, the shaft of power curled once more toward the ground. "Aaaaeeeeiiiii - oooph!" Mulder dropped inelegantly to the ground from a height of five meters. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his ankle, he stood up quickly and grounded himself. Regaining his concentration almost immediately, he joined the other Mages, adding his voice, his power to the chant. The glowing ribbon straightened, steadied. With a final tremendous effort, Mulder mentally seized the end and drove it deep into the earth. The brilliant arch's light burned steady at last. Moments later, Scully, Shannon and Jhorgab ran from the Gate, with Hannu close behind. Exhaling, the Mages in concert stopped the flow of energy. The archway faded and finally disappeared. Tarnor and Reinald collapsed to the ground as if they had been clubbed. Aldara and Pitir raced to lift the gargoyle, while Jourdain stooped to cradle the unconscious Royal Mage in his arms. "To Reinald's chambers, quickly! The healer is already there!" Over her shoulder Aldara called, "Shannon! Take the Mage and your troll friend to the castle and find them rooms. If anyone needs a healer, send a servant to the Royal Mage's quarters." Mulder staggered and fell to his knees, panting, sweat running down his body. Scully reached his side first, quickly entering his mind and body as a healer. Frantically, she searched through neurons, prodded muscles, trying to assess the toll of his power expenditure, and his impossible desperate trip through a partially anchored Gate. Except for a badly sprained ankle, he was exhausted, but otherwise intact. For professional reasons, she withdrew from his mind before giving him a piece of hers. "Goddamn it Mulder, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll kill you myself! Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Hannu approached her, pale and shaky but still on his feet. Mulder shook his head and tried to speak, but emitted only incoherent gasps. Reaching out to her with his mind, he found he lacked the energy necessary for even that most natural form of communication. "Don't, Warrior Healer Scully," said Hannu softly. "He did what he had to do, rash as it may seem." "Oh, this goes way beyond 'rash', Hannu," she fumed, turning her furious gaze his way. "Way beyond headstrong, past foolhardy, all the way to damned stupid!" "You're being very hard on the man who just saved all of our lives." Eyes flashing, she cooled a bit and waited for the Mage to continue. "A Gate is a very tricky thing. When Reinald and Tarnor were unable to completely anchor their end, it was imperative to reassert control as quickly as possible. The instability would have increased, leaching the power from a controlled form to float free in the air. Once that happened, there would have been a tremendous explosion that would not only have killed all of us, but also taken a good deal of the castle and my village with it." Somewhat mollified, Scully reached down to assist her bondmate to his feet. Shannon rushed to his other side while Jhorgab gathered their belongings. "But why is it always you, Mulder?" Leaning heavily on their shoulders, still fighting for breath, he looked down at his bondmate. "Had to be...one of us.... And I...thought of it...first." He gave her a wobbly grin before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. - - - - - She hardly heard the knock through her own sobs. "Go 'way!" "Lady Shannon, it is I, Jhorgab. And I shall certainly not go away. There is to be a meeting in Reinald's chambers in one candlemark, and he wants you there. Shannon? Shannon, are you all right? I am coming in now." He opened the door swiftly and went in, closing it softly behind him. Shannon was sprawled face- down on the bed, trying to control the wracking sobs that shook her. "Lady Shannon, what is it? Has something happened to Mage Mulder?" "N-no. Just go away, Jhorgab. I don't feel like visitors right now." "I am not a visitor," he retorted loftily. "I am your friend." He cocked his head sympathetically. "I think I can guess what it is. You know about the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, don't you?" "I guess I was the last to know," she said bitterly. "I feel like such a jerk. Here I was, losing my head over him, and all the time I was just fooling myself. God, I wish I could die." With some difficulty and little grace, Jhorgab levered himself up to sit beside her on the high Realm bed. He put out a tentative hand and gently patted her head. "Don't feel that way, Shannon. From what I heard in the servant's quarters, he has no wish for this match, he was forced into it." "Yeah, right." With her head buried in her arms, the reply was muffled. "I would miss you very much if you were to die. Who would answer all my questions, and see to it that I was fed as often as I need? You can't die, Lady Shannon. Think of how upset Mage Mulder and Warrior-Healer Scully would be." She sat up with a groan, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "That was meant to be taken figuratively, Jhorgab, not literally. Who is this girl, anyway? Did you hear anything? "Oh. Well, I am very glad you will not die then. No, I have heard that she is small, though still too tall for my liking. And pretty, though again, far too scrawny and delicately featured for true beauty. And that all the servants seem to like her very much. But they are split into two warring camps - the ones who support the lady to whom the king will become betrothed, and those who wish the king were free to choose you." "Yeah, well, it's a pity the king didn't get a little input from them before he decided to get engaged." She sniffled. "I feel so stupid." Jhorgab's yellow eyes were softly sympathetic. "I don't know anything about the ways of the heart, Lady Shannon. But if it helps, I'll always be your friend." "Oh, Jhorg!" She threw her arms around him and he gently folded her into his. "What am I going to do?" Awkwardly, the little troll patted her shoulder. "You're going to be all right, Shannon. It will get better. I promise." - - - - - I'm in heaven, he thought. I've died and I've gone to heaven. He wriggled comfortably, the silky sheets gliding along his skin. Then he felt a slight jarring and sensed his bondmate near him. Scully stretched herself out next to him, her arm supporting her head. "Welcome back. Feel better after your nap?" "Great." He reached out to stroke her face. "Still mad at me?" "Yeah. A little." She sighed. "If you could just give someone else a chance to be the hero once in a while, Mulder, I'd breathe easier." "I'm sorry, love. Not sorry that I do what I do, because that's just me. I'm just sorry I don't stop to consider its effects on you. It's both our funerals if I get myself into something I can't get out of." He toyed with an unruly auburn lock which had escaped her braid. "How are the other Mages?" "Hannu's fine. He's been touring the castle with Andalor. Aldara stopped by a little while ago, just to say that Reinald and Tarnor are out of danger but are still being watched like a hawk by the healer." She sat up cross-legged on the bed, a perplexed expression on her lovely face. "Mulder, something's going on. I can feel it. Something's happened that we don't know about." "Ah, the famous Scully intuition again. Aldara didn't say anything else?" His stomach rumbled loudly. He looked down in amazement. "I thought only Jhorgab could make noises like that. Is there any chance of -" There was a knock at the door, followed immediately by Shannon's entry. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tearstained. Leaning against the door, she said tonelessly, "There's going to be a late supper and a meeting in Reinald's chambers as soon as you can make it." She turned and had her hand on the latch ready to leave when Scully's voice stopped her. "Shannon! Are you all right?" She whirled back to face them. "Who, me? Oh, sure, I'm all right. I'm friggin' great! Why should I care if the idiot goes and gets himself engaged while I'm gone?" The tough facade suddenly crumbled, and she was in tears again. Scully sent her bondmate a stricken look. //You want me to deal with this, or do you want to?\\ //Want to, no. Feel that I have to be the one, yes. Toss me some shorts, love. I can't get out of bed like this.\\ Scully pulled some dark blue satiny shorts from the huge armoire and tossed them to her bondmate. She stopped to give Shannon a hug in passing, then left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Pulling on his shorts, Mulder slipped from between the sheets onto the cold stone of the floor. His ankle felt much better - his bondmate had evidently been at work while he slept. He crossed to Shannon and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her to the comfort of the hearth. He had known that this moment would, inevitably, come, but knowing it didn't make it any easier to deal with. "I'm sorry, baby. I know it hurts. I wish there were something I could say to make it better." "What's there to say?" she choked out. "Obviously he doesn't care about me the way I care about him." "I don't think it's obvious at all," said Mulder. He sank into one of the deep, oversized armchairs and pulled her into his lap, cradling her head against his shoulder. "I think he cares a great deal about you." Shannon gulped, trying hard to control herself. "Yeah, right. As soon as my back is turned, he gets engaged. Some way to show his feelings." She sniffled and a new wave of tears followed. Mulder let her cry it out, stroking her hair, murmuring comfortingly. When she had quieted, he asked gently, "How did you find out?" "Overheard the servants. Tomorrow is the betrothal ceremony. The whole castle is buzzing with the news." He frowned, then slowly began speaking. "You know, Shannon, Andalor has been brought up from day one to do his duty to his subjects. It may seem like a wonderful life, being waited on, living in a castle, having people look up to you and treat you special. But he has had to pay for that every moment of his life. Never has he been able to consider only himself, to do whatever he wanted to do. He has always had to put his duty first. That's why he ran away to our world in the first place - to try to escape that duty. I think he learned from the experience that he couldn't. But it's a crushing responsibility for a young man of his age. Now that he's back, he's trying to do the best job he can." "He could have done something if he wanted to badly enough," she insisted tearfully. "Avoided getting betrothed, or-or maybe even p-picked m-me." "I know you feel that way. But Shannon, some things are inescapable, no matter how much you may want them to be different. Andalor's job is one of them. If there had been any way at all, he would have found it. But no matter what Andalor wants, his first priority is and must always be the Realm. Any marriage would have to be blessed by the Council, and he knew they would never approve a marriage to you." "What am I, something that just crawled out from under a rock?" she wailed. Mulder smiled. "No. You are a very beautiful, intelligent, spirited and talented young woman. But you're not part of the nobility. And even more importantly, you aren't exactly 'from these- here parts'. It's not generally known where we come from - you and the Professor and Scully and I. Only a few beings at the castle and Prince Mavor know where we're from. It's better that way. What do you think the Council's, or the Realm's, reaction would be if you tried to explain that you come from another world entirely? It would be as unthinkable as if...as if Prince Charles wanted to marry a Reticulan!" She snorted. "He might have been better off." He chuckled. "In view of the way things turned out, you might be right at that. But what kind of a chance would he have had of Elizabeth welcoming an alien daughter-in-law - the future queen - with open arms?" "Well, Andalor could leave, we could go back to our world," Shannon persisted. But even as she said it, she knew it was not the answer. "Leave everything he knows, everything he was trained to do, everything that's familiar, to go flip burgers at McDonald's?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think so. Personally, I find Andalor's acceptance of his responsibility admirable. The Realm is a mess right now. How could he live with himself, how could he ever be happy, knowing he had walked out on his whole nation when it needed him the most? Talk about a rat leaving a sinking ship." He let her have a moment to consider what he had said, then continued softly. "It would be so easy for him to run away, to be with you, to get out from under all his problems. It takes guts to stay here, to fight it out, to marry the woman the Council will approve. Don't you think that if he could, he'd prefer to be with you?" She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know." "Of course he would. But right now Andalor is in for the fight of his life. He's being both courageous and responsible, because he has to be. He has no choice. And as hard as it is, that's just the way it has to be, including marriage to a stranger he doesn't love." They were silent for a while as the girl mulled over what he had said. "Life sucks." She nestled against his shoulder. He sighed and held her a bit tighter. "Yeah, sometimes life does suck. But it has a way of balancing out, really it does. Give it some time. You okay now?" His concerned eyes sought out hers. She smiled wryly. "No. But I suppose it's time to put on my game face, right?" He smoothed her abundant black hair back from her face. "You'll always be my princess, Shannon." His concern and tenderness encouraged fresh tears to spring to her eyes. Giving him a watery smile, she whispered, "Thanks, Mulder. I'm so glad you're around." She slid off his lap. "I'd better go get cleaned up for dinner." With a heavy heart, he watched her leave. - - - - - Everyone had assembled at the table in Reinald's quarters by the time Andalor walked in. What little conversation there was halted as they rose from their seats in respect for his position. The king rolled his eyes and flapped his hand dismissively. "Look, it's just us, can't we dispense with all this standing stuff?" A few at the table chuckled. It was an old battle, and one likely to continue. Andalor tried to catch Shannon's eye, but they were cast down as she seated herself with unnatural quiet at the far end of the long table. Goddess, he thought. She looked beautiful tonight, in a honey-colored silk sheath that precisely matched the color of her eyes, and her hair bound in a single thick braid which hung over one shoulder. Reinald and Tarnor were still extremely weak, hardly able to struggle to their feet, and they collapsed gratefully into their chairs at the king's command. The healer had allowed them to attend this meeting on the condition that she could stay, closely monitoring their welfare from the hearth. Dishes and platters were passed, but it seemed to Scully that no one wanted to be the first to speak for some reason. She had noticed the unfamiliar healer in the chamber, and decided to ask about her. "I don't recognize the healer, Reinald. Where's Kyla? How's Corvay doing?" It was as if the assemblage froze, and everyone appeared to be looking everywhere but at her. Finally Aldara cleared her throat. "None of us really knew how to tell you. I'm so sorry. Healer Corvay has passed on to the Next World. Dana - he was murdered." "M-murdered? But how? By whom?" she blurted in shock. She felt Mulder in her mind, comforting, supporting, but no less appalled than she was. "Why would anyone murder a wonderful old being who was close to death in any case?" The deep rumble of Jourdain's voice answered bitterly. "It was our cursed enemy. It struck while Kyla was in the midst of a healing trance with Corvay. He died and she very nearly did too. She's still recovering, very slowly, but a bit stronger every day." Scully sat, speechless and stunned. "That's why we decided that we had no choice but to construct a shield," explained Tarnor in a weak imitation of his normal voice. "For all we knew, the king could have been next." Grimly, Hannu nodded. "But what spell did you use? To my knowledge, I am the only one who has ever devised a spell to shield a large area, and that only relatively recently." "We knew it was possible in theory," replied Reinald tiredly. "We worked with the Professor down there" - the Professor waved - "to enhance the personal shield spell." The Royal Mage's eyes closed briefly in fatigue, and Tarnor took over. "We used our powers and Gunther's knowledge to magnify both the area and the protective nature of the spell." His ears twitched thoughtfully. "In truth, I suppose you could say we were making it up as we went along." "We kept renewing it, but the strain on Reinald and Tarnor was terrible," Gunther chimed in. "Still, no more calamities befell anyone within the walls of the castle while it was in place. So we can assume it was effective." "You must show me how you enhance spells, Professor," said Hannu, intrigued. "Unless my eyes fail me, you are not a Mage." "A Mage in his own way, Hannu," smiled Mulder. "But don't get him started or we'll be here all night. He gets somewhat enthusiastic about his work." Reinald was grim-faced across the table. "Tarnor and I owe you both an apology. Renewing the shield repeatedly did deplete our powers, but even so, losing control of the Gate was inexcusable. Everyone might have been killed." "Is that what you think? You didn't lose control, Mage Reinald. Oh, no doubt you were not in the best condition to attempt Gate construction," admitted Hannu. "But you would have completed your side of the Gate without difficulty if it had not been for interference." "Interference?" echoed Tarnor. "Don't tell me you didn't pick up the stench of the Black Arts!" exclaimed Mulder, amazed. "The air around Fairwoods was thick with the stink." Hannu and Aldara nodded their heads emphatically. "Our enemy tried to disrupt the Gate spell. Evidently your fatigue was noted and that's why the interference was directed at the Fairwoods side of the Gate." "I suspect we were too exhausted and too engrossed in our task to notice. By the way, Mage Mulder, we shall have to a long discussion later." The old Mage's eyes burned with indignation and his face was stern. "I can only hope that Mage Hannu does not think that I taught you to leap through unanchored Gates!" Mulder grinned sheepishly. "I'll look forward to it - although I doubt you can say anything on the subject that Scully hasn't." There was a chuckle around the table. "Now, we have some answers for you, and perhaps some possible solutions to our problems. I'll let Hannu tell you about our enemy." All eyes turned to the renowned Mage. "Our enemy is the last in a dynasty of royalty who extensively used the Black Arts to spread suffering and terror, and further their control over the land." Aldara interrupted, a puzzled expression on her face. "But, Mage, why have we never heard of this Black Mage?" Hannu looked uncomfortable. "It is extremely difficult to explain. Like myself, she was born ages ago, possibly over a thousand season-cycles -" "What? How is this possible?" Jourdain boomed. He shook his head. "I do not know myself. You see, this Black Mage and I have battled before. The battle you have heard of as legend actually did occur, longer ago than you can imagine. At the climax of the battle, such incredible forces were unleashed that there was a terrible explosion which bridged space and time, and the two of us were thrown far away from the Realm - to different places, fortunately. Eventually, I found my way back to the Realm. But instead of returning close to the time I left, I discovered I had come back at a time which for me was far in the future. I have no way of knowing how much time went by when I was elsewhere. But in any case, although it is hard to explain and even harder to understand, I can assure you that it did happen." "What is our enemy's name?" pressed Andalor. "I don't know, Your Majesty. No one knows. The dynasty guarded the secret of their names as closely as they guarded their spells, fearing their power would somehow be diminished if their names were spoken." Tarnor grunted. "I've heard of such superstitions. Even today, there are clans in far-flung corners of the Realm that believe something similar." The Mage nodded then continued, "I can tell you that she is completely evil. Between her formidable powers, her total lack of morality, and the hatred and lust for vengeance that drive her, conquering her will be an extremely difficult task at best." "But!" announced Mulder. "We have some good news." "We could use some," replied Andalor dryly. "Reinald gave me an ancient scroll before we left, one that had been around for eons, but that no one had ever been able to translate. Tarnor, give it a try." He passed the scroll to the gargoyle Mage. He frowned at the seemingly impossible task that Mulder was asking of him, but took the scroll. He unfurled it and his brows rose in amazement. "It's in Garsintil! Well, an old form of it, anyway. Let's see. 'Yacho no slarish'... not in our time...." "Tarnor, remind me to show you everything else I have stashed away," sighed Reinald. "It's ironic that this scroll might have been translated a long time ago, had I the presence of mind to show it to you." Mulder nodded, eyes sparkling. "Maybe he can still help us out. There was one passage we couldn't translate very well. Read the whole thing and try to fill in the blanks for us." The gargoyle scanned the symbols. "Sorry, Mulder, a few of these symbols I have never seen before. They don't even resemble anything closely enough to make a guess." Then he settled down to read. They all watched as Tarnor read the document and grew more and more excited. The gargoyle's ears perked up and his eyes bulged. "Goddess! Do you realize what this section is describing? These are the Lost Powers! Reinald, look at this!" He thrust the scroll into the older Mage's hands. Reinald took a glance at the document, but as weakened as he was, he lacked the power to cast even a simple language spell. "It might be faster if you just told the rest of us what's in here." Scully took the translation they had made and read it aloud. When she had finished, Hannu spoke. "Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully and I have had a little time to think about the contents of the prophecy. We believe there is no question that the allusions to darkness and stench means the use of the Black Arts by this evil Mage. The prophecy also mentions quite clearly those weapons - the 'blue arrows' - that can be used to defeat her. I think it's also clear that the 'blue-cloaked Archer' is meant to signify a Mage. That's the only thing that makes any sense, in any case; no one but an enormously powerful Mage is going to be able to defeat the Dark Queen. But Tarnor - what did you mean by the...Lost Powers?" "The power to control and create great beasts, to control the elements - those are powers which are unknown to us. Except for Mulder's little display of causing the earth to tremble and split apart in Fawnleaf," the gargoyle grinned, "those powers have existed only in legend. Mages today refer to them simply as the Lost Powers." "This is true?" Hannu looked from Mulder to Reinald. "You really don't know the spells for that?" "Do you mean, you do?" asked Mulder excitedly. "Of course. Only the most powerful Mages could control them, so they were not used extensively. But yes, there should be no problem teaching you these spells." "All right! This is our first real break! The first 'clear blue arrow'!" the young Mage exulted. "Before you get too carried away," replied Hannu dryly, "let me point out to you that it is only one of the weapons that will be effective - and all three must be used. Not to put a damper on your exuberance, but I must tell you - our enemy also knows those spells." Scully's heart sank. "I guess we'd better figure out what those other two blue arrows are, then." "Excuse me." Shannon looked around the table. "Are you saying that you all seriously believe this prophecy? Even you, Scully?" She smiled tightly. "You're right, Shannon, I don't believe easily in such things. But I do learn from experience, and Mulder and I had some experience with one prophecy that ended up very close to the truth." Around the table, heads were nodding, remembering the prophecy that promised saviors from the Dark Creatures in the persons of two extraordinary strangers. She shrugged. "I can't explain it, but sometimes you have to accept these things." She turned from Shannon to address the Mages. She was still pale and shaken over the news about Corvay, and she would mourn his loss. But for the moment, the survival of the Realm had to take precedence. "It's more than unfortunate we can't translate that one passage completely. It appears to hold the key." "It's possible that a skilled Garsintil linguist might recognize those archaic symbols," said Tarnor, doubtfully. "I just don't know if we have the time to search someone out, and bring him or her here to study it." "Your mother couldn't do it?" Scully queried. He shook his head. "I don't think so. She's a linguist, yes, but she's also intensely practical and very busy. I don't think she would have taken the time to learn a lot of archaic stuff that never gets used." "And I don't think we have the time now in any case," commented Hannu. "Unless our enemy has changed drastically since we last met - and I don't think she has - I believe that right now she is preparing for a great battle. I feel she will strike soon for the ultimate domination or destruction of the Realm." "What makes you so sure, Mage Hannu?" Andalor asked gravely. "The violence she's causing to occur all over the land, the hatred she's stimulating. Your Majesty, she feeds on blood and hatred the way we feed on meat and bread. They make her stronger. So not only is she weakening the Realm, she is also gaining strength with every outbreak of trouble. There must be a reason for her to desire to grow as strong as possible in a relatively short time. And that can only be that she is readying herself for the battle ahead." "But why do you think it will be soon?" persisted the king. "Because this strength dissipates fairly quickly. She has to use it soon or it will begin to fade. My guess is that she will wait for the moment that she feels she has derived all the strength she will need, and then she will strike." "Very succinctly put, Mage. And quite daunting," replied Andalor grimly. "Are we ready? And what about the feasibility of another shield?" "As to whether or not we're ready, unfortunately it's impossible to say. I too would be happier if we could translate the key passage. Does anyone know what 'the Guardian' might refer to? No? That's unfortunate. What about the third weapon?" Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I...um...I might have the glimmer of an idea, but I'd rather not say anything until I've had a chance to think about it a bit." Scully turned to him questioningly, surprised to find he had put up a light shield. He looked at her apologetically, then his face cleared as she smiled. "As to the shield, Your Majesty, it must be your decision. It does not appear in the prophecy - unless 'the Guardian' might in some way refer to it, but I doubt it. Your shield was a defense only, not an offensive weapon. I personally feel that the only reason the shield worked is because she was loath to expend the power necessary to destroy it." "So, this is further evidence that she may strike at any time," reasoned Scully. "She could have destroyed the shield, but instead chose to save her power for the upcoming battle." "Precisely." He looked at her appreciatively. So quick- witted, so logical. So like - "Also, there is the effect on us of constructing a shield," added Mulder. "If the Black Mage is saving her strength, I think we would be well-advised to do the same. I'm sure Hannu and I could put up another shield, but at what price? If it knocks us out the way it did Reinald and Tarnor, we would be left extremely vulnerable. And we still haven't completely overcome the effects of constructing the Gate. If we have to invest time and energy in anything at this point, I'd prefer to use it to learn these Lost Powers." "And I agree," said Hannu quickly. Reinald looked at Tarnor, then back to Mulder. "I wish we could learn with you, Mage Mulder, but I'm afraid we will be of minimal assistance if she chooses to do battle any time soon." The gargoyle nodded in agreement. "At the moment, we do well to get out of bed and stagger to a chair. Our powers will take some time to regenerate fully." "Then there will be no shield," Andalor said decisively. "A pity, really. I would have liked to see the effect on Ballorca, if none of those invited could pass through the shield for the ceremony tomorrow." There was a choking sound from the other end of the table. "By your leave, Your Majesty," blurted Shannon, rising, then she ran from the chamber. "Thank you all for your counsel," the king said hurriedly. "You are free to leave whenever you wish." With that, he bolted from the room in pursuit of Shannon. - - - - - "Shannon! Shannon, wait up!" The stone hallway echoed with his pounding footsteps as he raced to catch up with her. He was answered by the slam of her door. Skidding to a stop, he hesitated only a moment and then opened it, and burst into the room. She lay prone on her bed, her head cradled in her arms, her shoulders shaking. At the second slam of the door, she raised her head. "Isn't it against protocol for you to be in here with me unchaperoned?" she asked bitterly. "Completely. But Shannon, I have to talk to you, try to explain-" "It's a pity you don't dispense with all protocol so easily." She sat up and impatiently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "All right, you're here. You want to talk, so talk." She slid off the high bed and walked down the length of the room past the king, her spine straight, her bearing regal. Indicating one of the chairs at the hearth for him, she sat in hers and waited. He walked over and sat next to her, leaning forward with his arms braced on his knees. "Shannon, I know what a shock all of this betrothal thing must be for you. You need to know that I did and said everything I could to get out of it. But everything in the Realm has turned to shit. Beings are killing each other all over the place, there's fighting in the streets, terrible storms.... Reinald's been worrying his head off and working himself into a coma - literally. He's the closest person I have to family. How could I give him even more to worry about? Ultimately, he's right - I have the Realm to think of." He shook his head. "I hate it," he muttered. "I hate my duty and I hate my responsibilities and I hate being king." He looked directly into her eyes. "But I'm stuck, Shannon. I can't do a thing about it. Things are in enough of a mess. I have to do what I'm doing right now. I hate it, but I have to do it." There was a long silence between them. "I know," she finally whispered. "I know you have to marry this other girl, and be the king, and put the Realm ahead of everything. Mulder had a long talk with me. I know it all, Andalor, and I understand. But that doesn't help what I'm feeling inside right now." She averted her gaze, looking into the fireplace so he wouldn't see the tears welling up again in her eyes. He leaned over and took her hand. "I-I wasn't sure what you felt. In a way, I was hoping that you didn't feel what I did. Then it would be so much easier on both of us. Well, on you anyway. But in another way, for purely selfish reasons, I am glad. Shannon, I'm in love with you." She was very still, then turned to face him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And I'm in love with you, Andy. But that doesn't change a damn thing, does it?" "No. Maybe. I don't know," he said glumly. "If it's any comfort to you, Livirnea hates the whole idea too." "Livirnea?" "The girl I'm being betrothed to. She's a nice kid, incredibly smart. She doesn't want to marry me, and she doesn't want to be queen. She wants to study, to become a scientist. She's taking lessons from the Professor, who says she has a lot of natural talent. Livirnea and I have gotten to be good friends. But that's it - there will never be anything else between us." "Except for the fact that you and Livirnea will be expected to produce heirs to the throne." She looked at him pointedly. He blushed. "Yes...well.... The point is that tomorrow is only a betrothal ceremony. The marriage itself wouldn't take place for at least another two or three season-cycles. A lot can happen in that length of time." "Like what? What could possibly happen that would change things, Andalor?" she asked, exasperated. "Only if Livirnea died. And as much as I hate all of this, I wouldn't wish that for her. Besides, they'd only dig up another noble's daughter that the Council would approve of." "But if you stayed, at least we'd be able to see each other," he said hopefully. "Yeah - from a distance. They broke us up before, they made sure we were separated. Once you're betrothed and then married, it will be worse." "Not necessarily." Andalor appeared uncomfortable. "Look, I'm only telling you this so you know all the options, okay? So don't get mad. Royal marriages by tradition have always been arranged, usually for political gain. This means that the king and queen don't necessarily love each other, or even like each other. So because of the long tradition of arranged marriages, there is an equally long tradition of...overlooking ...certain royal...indiscretions." He kept his eyes on the floor. Shannon stared at him as the meaning of his words sank in. "Forget it! No way! It's bad enough that the Council doesn't think I'm fit to marry you. I refuse to be an 'indiscretion'! I won't sneak around to meet you behind Livirnea's back. I love you, Andalor, but I won't do it!" He smiled shyly. "Actually, I thought you'd feel like that. Maybe in a way, I'm glad. It just seems to me to be such a sordid thing to do, tradition or not. I wouldn't want anything like that to touch what we feel for each other. Shannon, if I were an artisan, or a trader, or a guard or anything else, you know I'd marry you in a heartbeat, don't you?" She smiled. "I didn't, but I do now. And it helps. A little." "What are you going to do?" "I don't know, Andalor, I really don't. I was going to stay on in the Realm after Mulder and Scully went back to our world. I mean, why not, there's really nothing for me to go back to. But now...I don't know if I could stand being around you and knowing we could never be together. I'm going to have to think about it." Andalor stood and extended a hand to help her up. "I hope you stay, Shannon. But in any event, I want you to know that not a candlemark will go by - ever - without my thinking about you." He tugged gently on her hand, bringing her close to him. Slowly his lips descended on hers in a kiss so sweet, so heartfelt, it brought tears to the eyes of both of the young lovers. "I-I'd better go. I love you, Shannon." He wheeled and hurried out the door before she could react. Mind reeling, she stared after him. "I love you, Andalor," she whispered. - - - - - The day of the betrothal dawned so beautiful that some thought that Ballorca must have had the ear of the Goddess herself. There were fanciful flower arrangements everywhere, their scent wafted through the sunlit air by the light breeze. Servants scurried to and from the Great Hall making last minute preparations, musicians tuned their instruments, and guards donned their dress uniforms and glittering armor. //Are you ready?\\ //Just about.\\ Scully smoothed the dark green silk of her dress and fastened the gold chain belt around her slim waist. She slipped an ornate but lethal looking ivory-hilted dagger into its golden sheath. This was to be a festive occasion, but a warrior was always prepared. //I'm just going over to Shannon's room to see how she's doing. Meet us there?\\ //Okay. Good luck.\\ //Yeah.\\ His reply was unenthusiastic. He left their chamber and strode the short distance up and across the corridor to his Shannon's room and knocked softly. "Come in." Mulder opened the door and peeked inside. "Scully and I are almost ready. Shannon, you look beautiful!" She laughed shortly. "Yeah. For all the good it's doing me." She closed her eyes and then turned to him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Thank you. I'm almost ready. Please come in." She stood in the looking glass, making infinitesimally small adjustments to her hair and gown. Her dress was heavy satin in purest white, with a diaphanous green train that caught at her shoulders to float to the floor behind her. She too wore a slim gold belt at her waist, with a small jeweled dirk already in its sheath. Her hair was loose, smoothed back from her face by golden combs, to emerge as a shining ebony cascade down her back. Mulder leaned back against the table, his arms folded in front of his chest. He regarded her with sympathy. "You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to go if it's going to upset you. I'm sure Andalor and Reinald and the others would understand." She sighed. "I don't want to go, believe me. But I guess I have to get used to the idea sometime. It might as well be now." After a final adjustment, she walked over to him. He put his arm around her. "I'm so proud of you." She smiled shyly up at him. "Thanks. I just hope I can pull it off. Well, let's go face the music." They met Scully in the corridor and together walked out across the courtyard, filing in with the throng to the Great Hall. Inside there was a riot of color and sound. Musicians played their wind and string instruments as hundreds of beings milled around in their finery. Bunting billowed from the beams and columns, directing the eye to the raised platform at the far end of the Hall. The three scanned the crowd, finally spotting Aldara and Jourdain holding little Daanna in the crowd, and made their way to their friends. Suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets, and the throng parted to make a wide aisle from the doorway to the dais. Anatha, the high priestess, led the way, followed by a somber Andalor. Reinald entered next, leaning heavily on the arm of Healer Sirisa, then Livirnea started down the aisle. The girl looked young and vulnerable, casting her eyes around as if looking for a way to escape. Her parents followed, Mandor looking proud and aristocratic in his scarlet and gray, Norilka looking smug and haughty. After them, prominent members of the Noble Houses entered, their expressions running the gamut from joy to undisguised envy. Finally, the Council of Representatives filed down the aisle - a diminished Council, since many were unable to travel to Fairwoods due to local unrest and the recent storms. There were no seats. Since the king had to remain standing throughout the long ceremony, his subjects would have to as well. When everyone had taken their places on or surrounding the dais, the fanfare stopped. Then, in the Old Realm tongue of ritual, the priestess began to chant. "Well, here we go," muttered Mulder. It promised to be a long morning. - - - - - She moved easily in the preternatural dark of her chamber. It was to be now. The moment she had waited for her entire existence. Her heart pounded in anticipation of the blood, the vengeance, the satisfaction, the triumph to come. Only one thing left to do before putting her plan into motion. She yanked on the bell pull. When a lackey arrived, she said only, "Bring him to the Chamber." No other explanation was given, or needed. The gluttony in her eyes was all too apparent to the servant. He knew exactly where to bring the poor damned wretch, and how to prepare him. She grasped the hematite sphere and let it take up her thoughts. In her mind's eye, a scene of celebration came into view. She saw the excited, joyous crowd, she saw the king and the priestess, she saw the pale slight girl who would be queen. Or rather, who would NOT be queen. An ice-cold cackle escaped her throat as she returned the sphere to its stand. Not even the memory of the previous day's failure to disrupt the Gate bothered her now. In the end, it would make no difference. And the end was very, very near. She swept down the dank spiral staircase from her tower room all the way down to the dungeon. The few unfortunates still alive down there shrank back as she made her way down the noisome hall to an archway at the end. She went through the opening and descended yet another staircase, making her way to the solitary door. The foul odor of old blood rushed to greet her as she opened the door, and she sniffed the air appreciatively. She lit a sputtering torch and took the only seat in the chamber of horror. Next to the wooden chair was a small low table, on which sat a black pottery bowl and a ladle. The floor was slightly concave, dipping down from the perimeter to the center of the room, where an enormously wide but shallow metal basin was set into the floor. Everywhere - floor, walls, and ceiling - bloodstains decorated the hideous chamber. She sighed in contentment. This room would see much more use in the near future, she promised herself. The sound of terrified jabbering punctuated by terse grunts reached her ears and she sat forward expectantly. A creaking door, some scuffling, and the lackey shoved Drellor into the room before slamming the door behind him. "Ah, Prince Drellor. I'm so happy you consented to join me," she said silkily. "I demand my clothing!" He stood before her, trembling - with fear, indignation, cold, or perhaps all three. His sole vestment was a brief loincloth. "You are attired exactly as I ordered." He peered at her and a crafty look stole into his eyes. "If it is a tryst you have in mind, my lady, I perform better in more salubrious surroundings." She appeared startled for a moment and then began to laugh in genuine amusement. "That's why you think I brought you here? Ah, Drellor, just when I think you can get no more stupid, you always surprise me." She wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes and chuckled again. "Oh my, no, Prince Drellor. I have brought you here today for something very special. It appears you are to achieve your dream - that of being useful to me." With a negligent flick of her wrist, he found himself levitated half a meter off the floor. With a slight jerk, he glided toward her to rest over the center of the large metal basin. His limbs were frozen, his legs slightly separated, his arms out a little from his body. "By rights you should be naked, but I thought that might have an adverse effect on my stomach. I have my appetite to consider, you know." She paced at the perimeter of the bowl, looking at her hapless victim appraisingly. "Now, I'm sure you are simply dying to know how you're going to help me." He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. She paced back to her chair and sat. A tiny motion of her finger turned her captive to face her. She frowned briefly in concentration and extended her hand. Sparks of black energy, sharp as shards of shattered crystal, bolted from her finger to pepper Drellor's body in a dozen places. His lips opened in a silent shriek as his flesh was cut and began to stream blood. A lucky hit opened his brachial artery, causing bright red blood to gush from the wound to the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat. Beneath him, he could hear the pinging sound as, drop by drop, his life dripped into the metal basin. "There. I believe you get the idea now. Your mind was of no use to me, your body is loathsome, but your blood.... Ah, now that's a very different thing." She rose and strode around her victim, drawing a long taloned finger roughly across one of his lacerations. She brought the gory finger to her mouth and tasted his blood with a look of ecstasy on her face. "I am off to do battle, Prince Drellor, and a warrior must have sustenance if the battle is to be won. My plans, my dreams, will be realized this day. I'd like to thank you for your part in it, for you will be providing me with that crucial last meal before battle. Now, if you don't mind, this may take some time and I'd like to get on with it. I have a very pressing appointment that I simply can't be late for." She extended her hand again as his mouth opened to scream. End Chapter Twenty One THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 22 Shannon shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She hadn't been happy about attending the ceremony in the first place, and standing here for hours while the priestess droned on about the responsibilities of the kingship and the glorious history of Andalor's house did not make it any easier. The Great Hall was a vivid, brightly colored sea of beings, all decked out in their full ceremonial regalia. The colors of the houses clashed with one another in a patchwork human quilt. The Elves were arrayed in shimmering robes of gold and silver and the Trolls were covered in multi-hued swaths of cloth. The Gargoyles were the most sedate, and even they glittered, fanciful arrays of metalwork wound around their arms and necks, rising to elaborate headpieces above their large ears. The display was breathtaking at first sight, tiresome at second, and finally headache-producing. Mulder threw her a worried glance as he felt her wriggle. He unobtrusively slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently. She leaned against him with a sigh, turning to look up into his hazel eyes. He smiled softly, leaning over to whisper softly in her ear. "It won't be that much longer. I think they're almost to his grandfather." "I hope so," she whispered back, frowning. Shannon glanced up at Andalor, who was standing on a large semi-circular platform, as motionless as a marble statue, draped in thick velvet robes. The fierce emblem of his house, a golden falcon with an emerald eye, weighed heavily on his breast. The massive crown sat precariously upon his fair head, and he seemed afraid to move for fear of it tumbling to the floor. Beside him, Livirnea was a vision in white, lovely and innocent, almost wraithlike in her gleaming ivory dress and veil. Her golden hair was bound up into an elaborate coiffure, held in place by silver pins that glittered with the slightest motion of her head. Shannon's gut clenched at the sight, a hard fist of envy closing on her lungs. She hated having to stand here and pretend not to care as the man she loved became engaged to another woman. And perhaps the very worst of it was that she couldn't even dislike the Ranfaus heiress, for the girl was friendly and intelligent. Under other circumstances, they could well have been friends, but now.... Shannon was too jealous and angry to care. Even the knowledge that Livirnea didn't want to marry Andalor anymore than he wanted to marry her didn't ease her pain. Mulder felt Shannon's body tense as her eyes fixed on the young queen-to-be, and he felt his stomach turn over. He desperately wished there was something he could do to save her the heartache he knew she was suffering. But there was little he could do but provide her with his love and support, and hope that it would be enough. //It's more than enough,\\ Scully told him, easily picking up his thoughts. He turned to gaze affectionately down at the burnished copper of her hair. She tilted her chin up to smile at him, blue eyes sparkling, before turning back to watch the ponderous ritual continue on the dais before them. //I hope so,\\ he responded, his emotions raw and tangled. He wished desperately that Shannon could find the happiness that he had found with Scully. His convenience-assumed responsibility towards the young girl had become a matter of the heart. The bond formed between them during their months in the Realm was a deep one, and Mulder considered Shannon more a part of his family than his 'real' blood-relatives had ever been. Not a substitute for the long- missing Samantha, for no one could ever be, but still dearly beloved. Her anguish at watching Andalor become engaged to another girl was his sorrow as well, and if he could have spilled his own blood to save her that pain he'd have done so without hesitation. But there was nothing that could be done. Andalor was king, and as such had heavy responsibilities to his people and his land. This ceremony could help to hold the tattered kingdom together, giving them a desperately-needed respite from the troubles raging across the Realm. They needed time to plan and regroup, to find a way to counter the magical attacks that were slowly, but surely, destroying the fragile peace. Mulder had no doubts that the battle would only escalate from here, and that the mysterious Black Mage would not stop until she had destroyed them all. Yet, there had to be a way to defeat her, and Mulder was determined to find it. The priestess stopped chanting, leaving a tense, pregnant hush hovering over the entire crowd. Andalor held out his hand to Livirnea and she moved gracefully before him, taking his hand between both of hers and sinking to her knees on the floor. She bowed her fair head over their clasped hands, and waited for the priestess to speak. "Today is a time of great rejoicing in the Realm," the white-robed elder chanted, her plain hands held high above Livirnea's hard. "Today our king has chosen his queen. Today we celebrate the binding of this man to this woman, a promise for the future. May the Goddess grant that their union be as bountiful as the land itself. May the bond between them bind us all as one people. May the joy of this day bring peace to all the land. In the name of the Goddess, in all of her incarnate forms, I bless..." At first Mulder thought the sound was simply the roar of the crowd, a thousand voices raised as one, reverberating against the high ceiling. Yet, the sound increased, becoming the high wail of a mighty wind, the air itself screaming in pain. The floor began to shake beneath their feet -- and then the crowd was shouting, voices intermingled in one senseless cry of astonishment and fear. //Mulder, what's happening?\\ Scully grasped his arm, and he closed his hand over hers, steadying her as best he could. The floor began to rock openly now, tumbling the spectators to the ground in writhing piles of beings. Shannon, still nestled against her guardian's side, had her eyes fixed on the raised platform above them, and it was her voice that gave the first warning. "NO, ANDALOR -- WATCH OUT!" No sooner than her voice had risen above the whine of the wind than the center of the dais split wide open, the sides tilting down towards the yawning crevice. Andalor, Livirnea and the priestess were all thrown off their feet, as the slab they were standing on rose three feet into the air, then settled with a dull thud, sliding precariously towards the rift. The priestess screamed high, her body twisting as she fought for purchase and lost, tumbling into the dark earth below her. Andalor managed to grab hold of the edge of broken stone with his free hand, his other still clenched tightly on Livirnea's. She hung from their clasped hands, her feet dangling into empty space, the soft slippers unable to find friction on the smoothly polished marble. Andalor felt his grip beginning to weaken, and an agonized cry formed in his mouth. His fingers struggled to hang on just a moment longer... And then suddenly, a massive fist closed in painfully around his wrist. He finally cried out, only to be answered with a deep growl. "I've got you, Your Majesty." Jourdain. Andalor felt tears form in his eyes with the swell of relief. Blinking them back, he turned his attention to Livirnea, closing his own hand as tightly on hers. He might not have wanted to marry her, but he'd come to deeply respect his queen-to-be. He wasn't going to lose her like this. Muscles bulged in Jourdain's massive arms as he fought to bring the two teenagers up to safer ground. Not that any place in the giant hall was truly safe. The crowd was in panic, beings of all species desperate to escape the death trap, clambering over each other, screaming in horror as more crevices opened, sending the unfortunates tumbling downward, the entire floor shifting and flowing like flotsam on the sea. Hannu, Reinald, and Tarnor were huddled together on the edge of the dais, blue sparks flying from their fingers as they sought to fight against the unseen force. The Royal Mage and the gargoyle were still weak, barely able to protect those closest to them. Hannu was a column of fierce blue power, closing crevice after crevice, only to find two more splitting open for each one he sealed. Mulder's first concern was Scully, Shannon and Aldara. Fear and anger boiling within him, he levitated the women, little Daanna held snugly in her mother's arms, to the edge of what had been the platform, settling them down neatly beside Reinald. They gasped as the spell released them, finding themselves standing again on unsteady ground. //MULDER!\\ Scully called out, but he was already moving, darting through the hysterical, panicked mass, fighting his way towards the shattered dais. A woman stumbled into his path, and he instinctively picked her up. She sobbed, clutching at his robe, and abruptly he recognized her as Norilka of Ranfaus. "My daughter," she cried, recognizing him. "You must save my daughter!" Mulder's eyes darted upwards to find Jourdain and another of his guards desperately trying to haul Andalor up from the pit. Livirnea couldn't be seen, but it was obvious Andalor was holding onto someone below him. Norilka was screaming now, hysterical, her husband laying bloody and bruised a few feet away. Mulder shook her, then pushed her towards the unconscious householder. "See to your husband," he demanded. "Go, NOW!" and she responded automatically to the ring of authority in his voice, staggering away to collapse by her wounded husband's side. Mulder was away in an instant, leaping up, sparks flying from his fingertips. His eyes closed for a brief moment, then blue flame arched from his outflung arm, the sapphire ring blazing with light. The azure glow enveloped the two soldiers, then flowed downwards to encase the king and the girl dangling from his arm. Mulder frowned, focusing, somehow managing to stay steady and upright even as the ground tilted beneath his feet. His hands lifted, and king came up with them. Andalor's breath caught in his lungs as the blue light surrounded him and Livirnea, then began to lift them upwards like a feather on the wind. It was instinctive to reach for support beneath his feet, and he wriggled within the soft cocoon of gleaming light. It held him, and Livirnea as well, cradling them as they rose swiftly above the broken platform then wavered downward to settle between the stunned Jourdain and the group of Mages standing like an oasis of calm. Livirnea sobbed, clutching at Andalor as they were released from Mulder's spell, again feeling the ground shake beneath them. He cradled her as best he could, waiting for Jourdain and his men to gather around and sweep them both closer to Reinald and Tarnor. The young king passed off his hysterical almost-fiancee to Scully, and then turned roughly towards Jourdain and Reinald. "By the Gods, what is happening?" "Mage-attack!" Reinald uttered between gritted teeth. The veins pulsed weakly beneath his parchment like skin. He was inches from fading into unconsciousness, only his fierce determination to protect his king and people keeping him from collapse. Mulder leapt up beside them, his mind reaching for Scully's even as his eyes focused on Jourdain. He smiled ferally. "I'd guess our Black Lady didn't like the idea of someone else being made queen." As though in confirmation, another loud thunderclap sounded, followed by a colored rain of wood and stone fragments, the roof sagging above their heads. Moving as one, Hannu and Mulder tossed a gleaming weave of blue strands upwards, arresting the collapsing roof and holding it suspended in mid-air above the cowering crowds. "We've got to get people out of here!" Andalor shouted. Jourdain nodded grimly, frowning as he quickly assessed the situation. His soldiers were doing the best they could, but the mass of beings was surging in all directions, climbing over each other in a desperate attempt to get out through the two doors. There was no way they could control the mob now, and people were already being trampled. If only there were more exits.... "Mulder, can you break down one of the walls to let people through?" Jourdain asked urgently. Mulder glanced at him, looked back at the screaming mass of people, and his jaw tightened. He barely blinked his understanding before he was focusing the power, a boiling white and blue mass forming around his hands. His face took on the aspect of a stone carving, his eyes shuttered as he concentrated, mouthing the focus chant through gritted teeth. His ring sparked, the color wound into the gleaming sphere of power as he lifted it -- and threw. The far wall shattered outward in a silent explosion, littering the courtyard with pieces of masonry. Moments later, the crowd was massing through the opening, climbing over the jagged remnants of the wall in their desperate haste to escape the shaking room. But the ground outside the Great Hall was no safe haven, the entire courtyard trembling as the earth itself seemed to come alive, shifting and moving randomly beneath their feet. Hundreds of voices wailed in one grating shriek of horror, as nobles tumbled over elves, gargoyles over trolls. The shimmering brightness of their clothes dimmed beneath the onslaught of the Black Mage's fury. Householders fell amid their servants, nobility of birth no shelter from the ravaging elements and famished earth. Marvick of Dordinal fell beneath a pile of stone, Horvay of Maalfes toppled into a widening crevice, his wife barely clinging to the broken earth long enough to be drawn up by her eldest son. Ballorca was hysterical, unable to comprehend the forces laying waste to his devastated triumph; he stood like an island in the flood of the panicked crowd, wringing his hands and shouting nonsensical orders at long-fled servants. Finally, with a gurgle, he went down beneath a flood of water spilling through the cracks in the ceiling, tumbling to rest in a soaked pile of rubble. "It's spreading!" Jourdain yelled, struggling for balance as the ground shook yet again. Tarnor shouted something and the small area around them stabilized, but it was the last of the gargoyle Mage's strength and he fell limply to the floor. "Tarnor!" Aldara cried, kneeling down beside her unconscious friend. Daanna clung to her mother's arm, remaining silent, her bright blue eyes wide with fear. She trembled, then suddenly let go of Aldara running beneath the adults' feet to stand between Mulder and Hannu. Both Mages were too busy trying to keep the castle from sinking into the hungry earth to notice her until she screamed loudly. "She comes!! The Dark Lady comes!" The childish voice rose in a piercing shriek, repeating the warning over and over again. "She comes...she comes...she comes..." Daanna raised her arms and pointed a chubby forefinger towards the far corner of the room. An unearthly mist was swirling, tendrils wavering in the wind like a black spiderweb. The stench of the evil magic filled the air, making Mulder's nostrils flare and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The mist obscured the back half of the room now, raging at the backs of the remnants of the mob as they streamed out into the rocky, broken courtyard, fleeing helplessly. Hannu and Mulder both turned towards the noxious mist simultaneously, but Mulder paused to shout above the howl of the wind and the screams of the wounded. "No, Hannu! Leave her to me! You have to keep the roof from caving in and get everyone to safety," he commanded. Not waiting for a reply, he leapt forward, blue fire crackling around his agile body as he moved. "Mulder, NO!" Scully shouted, racing after him. Jourdain tried to hold her back, but she twisted out of his grasp, following Mulder as he weaved his way through the debris. Shannon was after her an instant later. But there wasn't far to go. Mulder came up short as the dark mist surged in his direction, the edges sizzling as they came in contact with his blue flame. The heavens boiled above them as his power rose to meet that of the attacking Mage, forming two fiery columns, one of light and one of darkness. Standing encased in a circle of blue flame, Mulder tossed white thunderbolts at the center of the dark web. It roiled and smoldered in response, sucking in the light with bursts of sickly smelling black rain. The droplets sizzled on the ground, etching their way into stone like a caustic acid. Mulder raised his hands, and the elements answered. Lightning flashed, thunder pealed, storm clouds gathered and broke. A flood of rain burst, sliding through the cracks in the fragmented ceiling, sliding through the brilliant blue strands of Mage-energy that held the heavy beams of stone and wood from crashing downward. Rain fell in waves and random bursts, washing away the oily acid that scorched the ground, covering everything in a sheen of moisture. Mulder stood motionless, his cloak whipping around his legs, his hair wind-tossed and wild around his determined face. His eyes blazed like sunlight striking obsidian, the green highlights submerged into the fierceness of his battle against the unseen enemy. "Come on!" he shouted. "Come on, damn you. Show yourself," he challenged fiercely. And at last she did, faintly, a shadowed, slender figure floating in a sea of darkness. Mulder lanced the air with an azure lightening bolt; she raised her hand and swept it aside with a spattering of ebony sparks, glowing like pieces of hot coal tossed into the air. Laughter echoed, sultry and warm, yet as pointed as a fine arrow's edge. "I come soon enough, Mage. Bow down before your queen, all of you!" Her voice was like the wind itself, it came from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding them. It was seductive and cold, enticing and crystalline. Mulder shivered as it caressed his spine, tingling across his nerves. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tensed, and he poised himself like a panther prepared to strike. She strode forward, giving him just a glimpse of fire- touched eyes and ivory skin, before her cloak of darkness swirled between them again. Mulder waited, waited, drawing his own power around him like a gleaming blue blanket. He waited...then struck out suddenly, fire pulsing from his fingertips. The Dark Lady screamed this time, a feral shriek that rose above the icy wind. Mulder's answering growl was low, a soft thunder that formed deep within his chest. Her Gate was incomplete, and Mulder fought for control of it, twining blue strands around the ebony filaments, anchoring the magical doorway, and slicing it open. The massive energies screeched and swirled, as two opposing forces moved gratingly to one purpose, like giant gears grinding out of phase. At last, the archway was grounded, blue light framing the darkened opening, the black mist and azure flame dancing around each other, stabbing and retreating, sliding across each other. The Dark Lady poised herself at the door, prepared to come through, but Mulder got there first. Leaping across the short space between them, Mulder tackled her, hitting her just as she had taken one step into the shattered Great Hall. She cried out, the sound strangling in her throat as he tossed her backwards. //MULDER!!\\ Scully shrieked, throwing herself after her bondmate. She tumbled through the doorway, Shannon barely a few steps behind. "No, Shannon!!" Andalor cried, racing out after her. Jourdain reached to restrain him, only to be buffeted backwards as an another tremor rocked the ground. The king bolted through the fiery Gate, followed barely a heartbeat later by another tiny form. "Aaaiiieeee...DAANNA!!!" Aldara howled as only a mother can, leaping over fallen masonry and bodies, fighting desperately to reach her daughter before it was too late. "Aldara, Daanna, Andalor!" Shouts rang out from the rest of the group, Jourdain struggling to regain his footing. He was too late, they were all too late. Even Hannu's attempt at extending magical assistance fell short. No more than an instant after Andalor and the little girl had raced through the Gate than it sputtered, darkened, and then imploded, the air squeezing in on itself into one tiny dark ball whimpering out of existence. Aldara fell to her knees amid a pile of shattered wood, sobbing, clawing at the floor. "Daanna....DAANNA!!!!" - - - - - Andalor stumbled, finding himself suddenly in the dark. Blinking he grabbed onto a nearby wall-hanging, then focused on a pair of vague shapes in front of him. A flash of blue light shattered the darkness, making him squeeze his eyes shut, though not before the image etched itself into his retina. "Shannon!" he yelled, running towards her. She spun, falling into a fighting crouch, then jerking upright when she recognized him. "Andy?" She called out, meeting him in the corner of the darkened room. "What the hell are you doing here?" "I followed you!" he answered. "What did you think you were doing diving into that...thing! And where are we, anyway?" "I don't know," she replied. Another bright explosion rocked the room, illuminating the scene in a brilliant blue gleam. They were in a circular enclosure, standing close to one of four velvet-draped windows. The walls were lined with books, the floor was a mass of chalked drawings and spattered stains, marring the once fine marble with crusty deposits and dust. The center of the room was monopolized by a giant sphere, blacker than the deepest night. And yet it seemed to glow - or perhaps the opposite, it made its presence known by the very absence of light. It sucked in every tendril of sunshine and candleflame that dared to come near. Another bright flash, a whooshing sound, the flare swallowed by the spinning orb, but still enough for Shannon and Andalor to see Mulder facing off against the slender figure of a woman, dressed in ebony silk, a polished silver crown gleaming against the raven black of her hair. Reddened fingertips clawed at the air as she circled warily, facing off against her opponent with an air of calculating arrogance. Scully was standing a few paces behind Mulder, a small ivory-hilted dagger held out before her. Her fiery hair was tumbled around her heart-shaped face, her green dress torn and askew on her shoulders. A tawny wildcat, fighting for her mate. No one noticed the final visitor, Daanna's tiny form nearly invisible as she huddled beneath a table, her blue eyes wide and knowing, her entire body tensed and waiting. The Dark Lady shouted incomprehensible syllables, and something unseen swept down from the ceiling with a grating squeal. Mulder didn't move his eyes from his adversary; he gestured gracefully, the sweep of his hand forming a glittering blue glyph that floated in the air, then lifted at a single spoken command to counter the attack. Blue flame sparked, the squeal broke off into a whistling howl, and then fell silent. The Dark Lady growled. Mulder grinned, briefly, a mobile flash of teeth that never touched his burning hazel eyes. He lifted his hands again, and this time the attack was made of light, searing platinum that swirled and flowed, skirting the edge of the center sphere and arrowing in on the Black Mage. She laughed, the sound harsher than the winter wind, her own elegant hands weaving the counter spell with fierce efficiency. Again the attack was met in mid-air, sputtering to a silent end before hitting its quarry. Then it was her turn, and this time the spell chant was louder, her voice keening, rising higher and higher, until it tore at their senses, forcing cries from their lips. Mulder, alone, ignored it, his own voice singing in baritone counterpoint. Her voice crashed, like a peal of thunder, her hand gestured, pointing, and something began to form at the edge of the sphere. It grew outward, an amorphous black cloud that slowly took horrific shape. The head was wolf-like, jagged teeth gnashing beneath glowing red eyes, the body massive, powerful shoulders and long clawed legs, bat-like wings sprouting from its back. It roared, leaping into the air and hovering for one terrifying moment. "Watch out!" Shannon yelled, reaching instinctively for a sword that wasn't there, crying out when Andalor grabbed her and shoved her to the floor. The creature swooped down, barely missing them, its curved talons striking hard against the marble floor just beyond them. That was enough for Scully, she leapt at it, ignoring Mulder's shout to stay back. Striking swiftly, she slashed its foreleg, then leapt away. It roared, turning with incredible speed towards her, only to be hit with a brilliant bolt of light. It screeched, shuddering, allowing Scully to scramble out of reach. //GET OUT OF HERE!!\\ Mulder demanded, even as he focused on an intricate spell. //NO WAY!\\ came Scully's fiery reply. Racing to stand again at his side, her mind was resolute. He didn't argue further. Already the spell was taking shape, all of his energy channeled into making it a living reality. Scully felt his need pull upon her, and she slipped easily into their link, feeding him strength, bolstering his focus. His hands wove the air itself, building from memory and imagination -- the shape forming beneath slender fingers, rising and flowing, fluid of form, a creature made from flame, coalescing by Mage's spell into fiery reality. It flew, rising on a wingspan that covered the room in an umbrella of iridescent scales, aqua and silver, gold and platinum, shimmering, brilliant. The eyes were diamonds, the talons like earth-toned daggers; the dragon-image snorting with sudden life. It beat its wings for a breathtaking heartbeat, then curled them up across its broad shoulders and dove like an avenging angel towards the snarling wolfbeast. The creatures collided, talons raking fur, claws scraping on scales, dark mist and blue flame tangling, steaming. They fell apart and rolled, forcing the humans to scatter to the corners. Mulder staggered into Scully's arms, and she fell to her knees beneath his weight. He was lost in concentration, every muscle in his body straining, every nerve ending tingling, as he sought to control the beast he had created. It sang, a silvery musical chime, rising on the notes to touch the ceiling, then circling, wary and poised, luminescent eyes focused on its opponent. The Dark Lady rested back against the wall, her hands clenched into fists, her will streaming almost visibly from her to her own vicious creation. The wolfbeast stirred, launching itself to sit atop the burning nothingness of the spinning sphere, feeding from the darkness beneath its feet. It roared a challenge, and the blue dragon whistled its reply, dashing downward to sweep the dark beast's head with a piercing talon. The beast screamed, leaping aside, then turning to pounce. Dripping teeth took hold of an iridescent wing and scraped across the surface of the slippery scales. The dragon whined as it was punctured, falling sideways, ripping itself free. A few scales fell loose, and the wing curled up, the jagged edges rough and angry. Mulder's own scream echoed that of his creation, he clutched at his hand, long claw marks etching their way into his skin. Blood pooled in the gashes, dripping through his fingers, spattering on his robe. //Mulder!\\ Scully cried into his mind, feeling his pain in her own body, sharing his agony as her own. Closing her eyes, she focused her healing senses down his arm, the long tears in his skin slowly closing under her command. As his wounds healed, so did those on the dragon. It turned, unfolding the damaged wing, the scales reforming whole, scratched but unbroken. Mulder lifted his head, his hazel eyes burning with anger and anguish, and his dragon leapt upwards, closing back in on the wolfbeast that awaited it, crouched against the hard stone floor. The creatures tumbled against each other, each injury reflected on the controlling Mage, each cured by the strength of the Mage's will. The dragon tore bloody patches of skin from the wolfbeast, and the beast crunched a foreleg between its massive jaws. They fell apart, hopping now, neither quite able to take flight, but Mages' power was stronger than flesh, and yet again they lifted up, only to collide again. And then again. Shannon and Andalor huddled in a corner, clinging to each other, covering half-blinded eyes with trembling forearms. Thunder crashed and lightning pealed, a storm raging outside to match the one within. The Dark Lady howled as the dragon took an eye, gouging it out with curved fore-talon, blood gushing down her cheeks. Mulder's voice rose in an agonized shriek as the dragon was tossed against the floor, pain blossoming in his mind. Scully was there to share it and to conquer it; she was his anchor. She healed his mind and body, held him firmly to his purpose, cleared away the blindness of the power, the white-hot sheen of rage, grounding him always within her love. He clung to her physically, relied on her mentally, letting her support all his needs except the drive to win this battle. It could have been a single candlemark, it could have been a thousand; time lost all meaning. Nothing mattered but talons against teeth, scales against claws, wings striking wings. Both Mages fell to their knees, then down to crouch against the floor, all energy focused upwards and outwards, nothing left to hold their physical frames upright. The sphere settled down upon its pedestal, energy draining from it at a massive rate. Scully grew terrified for Mulder, and she cradled him, struggling to keep his heart beating and his lungs drawing air. The creatures fought... And then, as suddenly as it began, the conflict ended in a fury of powerful wings and gnashing teeth. The wolfbeast howled as it was lifted and tossed, striking the seemingly quiescent sphere with a shriek that made the ground itself shudder. It draped across the sphere, and then was sucked up within it, but not before a flood of oily darkness spattered upwards, coating the dragon's wings in a sticky caustic tar. Blood, yet not blood, it burned like acid. The dragon screamed, collapsing to the floor, steaming as it melted. Mulder pushed himself up onto his knees, his chest heaving. The Dark Lady moved to a three-point crouch. He stretched out a hand, the blue flame sparkling weakly. His opponent ignored him. One eye swollen shut, she focused the other on the two teenagers cowering in the far corner, and her gesture towards them. "Die, false king!" she shouted, though the words came out in a hoarse croak, the sultry sound of her voice ripped to shreds from the strain of the battle. "Die..." Black flame sparked out at Andalor's head, and Shannon screamed, shoving him down. Blue light flared around her, shielding them both in a shimmering cocoon. The ebony fire hissed as it hit that azure barrier, sliding across its surface, boiling backwards and away. The Black Mage whined with frustration, striking out harder, but Shannon's shield only flared stronger, her fear and desperation fired by her love for the man she protected. "STOP!" Mulder cried out, forcing his way to his feet. "Your fight is with me! Leave them out of it." His voice was as harsh as hers had been, pushed out between pain-clenched teeth and parched lips. He stumbled closer to the hematite sphere, his aura flickering white-edged. The Dark Lady turned towards him, an animalistic snarl contorting her elegant features into a horrific mask. "Yes, Mage, my fight is with you. For now. But when you are dead at my feet, the others are mine. I will feed from their blood and delight in their screams. But first...oh yes, first....you - and the woman who cowers behind you." Scully leapt to Mulder's side. "I cower behind no one!" Mulder tried to shove her back; she refused, clinging to his arm. The Black Mage laughed icily. "Come, come, my dear. Come to me!" She extended a red-tipped finger towards Scully, barking out an unintelligible command. The red-haired woman trembled, feet sliding forward of their own command. //NO!\\ Mulder cried as he felt her being drawn forward by an invisible force. He seized her hand and pulled with all his eroded strength. But he only succeeded in being drawn with her, their feet slipping helplessly on the slick stone floor. "NO!" Mulder screamed aloud, launching a firebolt of his own at the Dark Lady. She leapt aside, her shoulder sizzling from the brief contact with his power. She launched a return attack, and he tumbled to the floor, knocking Scully down with him. Yet, Scully was still caught within the spell, and now began to crawl across the room on hands and knees, every muscle in her body tensed and trembling with silent resistance, even as they were forced to obey the black spell. Mulder grabbed for her ankle with one hand, simultaneously sending out another jolt of power. The battle resumed, both Mages tossing lightning bolts, exploding in the air like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. Scully was caught between them, being torn in two directions, the Black Mage's enchantment compelling her forward, Mulder desperately restraining her. But inch by inch, she was drawn closer to their enemy until the Dark Lady could -- and did -- reach out to seize her wrist. Scully howled at that touch, and Mulder's aura flamed, brilliant glowing fire. Thunder crashed and the castle shook. The Dark Lady shrieked in response, but held on, turning Scully into a living battleground. Scully convulsed, her body lifting to float above the floor, astonishing currents of energy flowing across her body, her entire nervous system turned into one giant electrical circuit. Mulder shook with her pain, feeling it all as one with her. But he was as caught as she was, the only alternative was to give her up, and that he wouldn't, couldn't do. He'd die with her, but never without her. His mind slid into hers; and they became literally one. His strength and hers focused into one living being; his power focused and controlled by the one that they were. Together they fought, straining to break free of the ebony cobwebs binding them. "Malvina! Her name is Malvina!" A shrill, childish voice screamed. No one listened. Yet the voice did not stop, rising and falling with the wind that battered against the castle walls. A tiny hand closed on Mulder's calf and dug in, tugging, yanking, fighting for attention. It penetrated slowly, achingly, finally boring into the edge of the raging joint consciousness. "Use her name -- it is Malvina. Her name is Malvina!" "Malvina?" Mulder and Scully's ravaged mouths formed the syllables simultaneously, both voices adding up barely to a whisper, but it was enough. The Dark Lady staggered, releasing her hold on Scully and collapsing back against the wall. "NO!" she cried out. "Who knows my name?" Wildly, she turned to fix a smoldering red eye on the little girl who stood defiantly above Mulder and Scully's tangled bodies. "I do!" Daanna shouted, ignoring the wind as it whipped the ebony locks of her hair into her face. Her aura flared orange, like living flame, her blue eyes steady with a wisdom that belied her age. "I am the Guardian. Know me, Lady Malvina of the House of Krandor. You know who I am!" Malvina snarled, bile rising in her throat. "All I see is a child, a child who will die beneath my feet!" She waved her hand and the sphere tilted on its stand, bouncing up, then dashing down towards Daanna's head. The child stood calm and still, raising her hand and pointing imperatively. "Stop." Her high voice sounded with commanding authority, and the sphere froze in mid-air. Malvina screamed with impotent rage, but nothing she could do would move the black ball any closer to the flame-coated child. Daanna smiled softly, then looked down at Mulder and Scully, both staring up at her with astonishment writ large on their ravaged faces. "It is time for you to finish this, Mage. You know what you must do." Mulder shook his head, wincing as the motion caused a sudden stroke of pain behind his eyes. "I...I don't know..." "Yes, you do," came the infinitely patient reply. Daanna's eyes bored into his, her voice echoing in his mind as well as his ears. "You alone have the power and the knowledge to bind her where she cannot do more harm. You cannot kill her, for her power is too strong for that, but you can restrain her from ever doing evil to this Realm again. Use her name to bind her so she cannot again break free." Mulder blinked, then turned towards Scully. His bondmate smiled tenderly though a tangle of auburn curls, and understanding flooded them both. He leaned down to kiss her gently, then stumbled to his feet. Closing his eyes, he reached for the remnants of his power, drawing the blue strands around him like a comforting blanket of warmth. Scully stood up, reaching out to take his hand with hers. Their fingers twined and clung, and together they turned to Malvina. She hissed ferally at them, struggling to attack with what remained of her power, but it slipped out of her control, sparking around her, unfocused and impotent. Mulder's power surged as hers waned, Scully adding her strength to his. A pinpoint of light formed above the ragged Dark Lady's head, growing swiftly, swallowing up the air. She turned to gaze upwards at it, then shrieked in horrified denial. "NO! I will not return there! NO!" Everything within her pulsed into one desperate need to flee, and she leapt upwards towards the frozen black sphere, every last fragment of her power snapping into focus. The vortex widened above her, spinning down towards her as she flung herself away. Her hand touched the sphere and sank within its murky depths, and for a moment, it appeared as though she would escape. But the vortex yawned above her, its maw closing in upon her foot, and for a moment, she hung there, half within the black sphere, half within the expanding vortex. Then the vortex exploded, flaring, sucking on her with an infinitely powerful vacuum, and she was sucked up into it. Her scream echoed in the air, then blinked off as light flared incandescent. The vortex snapped shut and she was gone. End of Chapter 22 THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty-Three The ground gave one more final, dying gasp, shivering as though ill, then came to stillness. They all held their breaths, waiting, expecting it to move again. Hannu was the first to react. Closing his eyes, he reinforced the spell on the roof, then stepped forward, sighing and bowing his head. The spell was broken. Whatever Mulder had done, it must have worked. The taint of the Black Magic hung in the air, hovering, but fading. It would take much time and effort to clear it away fully, but that was the least of the concerns of the moment. Hannu turned to take stock of his companions -- those that still survived. The fiery half-elf, Aldara, was sobbing in her husband's massive arms, and the Blue Mage suddenly remembered that their child had been one of those who had followed Mulder into the dark Gate. His heart skipped a beat in sympathy and sorrow. But no more than a glance around him made it clear that they would not be the only ones grieving this day. Livirnea was already hopping down towards her parents, huddled against the edge of the shattered platform. From the amount of blood staining Norilka of Ranfaus, the prognosis for Mandor was not good. Reinald and Tarnor were both alive, but exhausted to the point of collapse. The gargoyle was sprawled out unconscious, Reinald was resting on his knees beside his protege, the white- haired head bowed and his face haggard and aged. Somehow the little troll, Jhorgab, had managed to survive it all, and he was trying to help the two Mages. He managed to get Reinald sitting up, then turned to meet Hannu's somber, weary gaze. "Is it over?" he asked, yellow eyes wide with shock. Hannu nodded, sweeping a hand through his heavy dark hair. "Yes. I think so..." he paused, lifting his nose to literally sniff the air. "Yes, the Black Mage is gone. For good, I think. Mulder must have defeated her." "Mulder!" Jhorgab got to his feet and stared around him anxiously. "Where did he go? I could not see anything. Beings were running everywhere, and I could not get anywhere. There was all this darkness and fog, and something that smelled like the depths of a swamp, and then suddenly it was gone. Yet, when I got here, only you are here. Where did Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully, and Lady Shannon go?" He stared around him wide-eyed, then gasped in shock. "And where is His Majesty? By the Gods, I pray he was not killed!" "No..." Hannu denied it, then stopped, hesitancy creeping into his voice and manner. "They all followed Mulder into the Gate. I do not know where they are, for sure, though I can guess...." "Then do so!" A deep voice growled. Hannu spun around to find Jourdain glaring at him, graying eyebrows drawn together over angry blue eyes. "The Black Mage's stronghold, I'd say," Hannu replied bluntly, knowing the man wanted - and deserved - the truth. Jourdain hardly blinked, the only sign of his fear and rage showing in the tightness of his jaw. "They'll be able to get back, won't they?" Jhorgab demanded anxiously, nearly hopping up and down, his ears twitching nervously. Hannu frowned, not answering immediately. He shook his head. "I'm not sure. It appears Mulder defeated our enemy. Or at least stopped her attack on us. However, that effort probably exhausted him. It all depends on his situation, and that I cannot predict." "But you could Gate to him, couldn't you?" Aldara broke in, pushing herself away from Jourdain to gaze hopefully at Hannu. He gazed back sorrowfully. "I cannot create a Gate without having some familiarity with the other location. If Mulder could contact me, I could use him as an anchor..." "Can you contact him?" Jhorgab asked. Hannu thought for a moment, then forced out a wry, but determined smile. "I can but try!" - - - - - Shannon and Andalor peeked out from under their hands. The room had stilled to an almost unearthly quiet. The thunderstorm outside the windows had ceased; rain beat heavily against the velvet- draped windows. The air was thick with the aftermath of the Mage- storm, tasting of smoke and the tinny edge of an iron-forge. The ceilings and walls were singed, the tapestries charred and smoldering. The hematite sphere was quiescent and dull, a long jagged spiderweb of cracks marring its surface. Andalor scrambled to his feet, then put out a hand to help Shannon. She stood up warily, her body still tensed for battle. But nothing stirred to challenge them. No movement, no sound, except the thin whistle of their lungs and the gentle sobs of a terrified child. "Daanna?!" Shannon raced over to kneel behind the little girl. Blue eyes streaming salty tears, Daanna turned and buried herself into the older girl's arms. "Shhh little one," Shannon soothed, hugging her tightly. "What are you doing here? It's going to be all right. It's all over now." She looked up towards Andalor who had walked over to stand beside her. His eyes were focused on the man and woman stretched out before them on the seared marble floor. "Mulder! Scully!" Andalor knelt down beside them, reaching out with trembling hands. Blue sparks flew from their skin when he touched them; he drew his hands back as though shocked. Sharing a grimace with Shannon, he reached out again, sighing with open relief when he found them warm and alive, their chests rising and falling steadily with each breath. "They're alive!" The young king crowed, grinning. Shannon laughed, the sound high-pitched with hysteria, yet gliding with delight. Andalor returned her smile, then tried to shake the Mage and his Companion awake. Mulder shifted, moving to curl his long limbs around Scully's body, but his eyes did not open. Andalor looked up concerned at Shannon, who shook her head. "They're exhausted. I've seen this before." The king nodded, agreeing. "Reinald and Tarnor were like this after the shield spell." He frowned suddenly as he became abruptly aware of their predicament. "They need a healer, and... Good gods, Shannon, where are we?" Her eyes darted around the room, then she clutched the shivering child closer to her. "I don't know, Andy." She stared back down at Mulder and Scully, worry darkening her amber eyes. "And without Mulder I don't know how we're going to get out of here." - - - - - Hannu frowned, then opened his eyes with a soft sigh of frustration. The others were staring at him, a mixture of hope and fear dawning on their faces. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. He's either too far away or he's unable to respond for some reason. I think he's alive, I can feel he's there somewhere, but I can't make clear contact." Hannu rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. "It is possible that he's just too tired to reply. We could wait..." "Wait!" Aldara broke in furiously. "He could be hurt or in trouble. And what of my daughter. She's only a child. If she's been hurt..." Words failed her, sobs rising harshly in her throat. Fiercely she forced them down, gasping for air in lungs that burned. Jourdain held her tightly, his own anguish burning hotly in his belly. "What of Lady Shannon?" Jhorgab asked anxiously. "Can you not reach her?" All eyes turned to him, surprised. His eyebrows climbed nervously up his broad forehead. "Well, Mage Mulder has been teaching her magic. Perhaps she can help." Hannu frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth a try." His amber eyes scanned the ruins of the Great Hall, his stomach turning over at the sight of such carnage. People were slowly beginning to dig themselves out, the cries of the wounded rising into the suddenly calm air. The room stank of Black Magic and blood, terror and pain. The Blue Mage shuddered, then closed his eyes, seeking a peaceful place in the center of himself. The image of Mulder's halla swam, then focused in front of his inner vision, and he grabbed hold of it. Long ebony hair framing a clear- skinned oval face. Caramel colored eyes warm and bright, much like his own. He stared into them, calling for her, willing her to answer. //Hey! Who's there!\\ A loud shout burst into his head, nearly throwing him out of his trance. Grasping onto the remnants of his strength, he took hold of the link and tried to steady it. //This is Mage Hannu, Lady Shannon. Please do not shout so loudly. I can hear you easily.\\ In fact, he was stunned by how vivid the link was. He suspected she was at a great distance and yet it felt as though she was in the next room. She had definite promise as a Mage, but her aura had never hinted at such power. But then, she was Mulder's niece. It should not be surprising she would echo his strength. //Mage Hannu! Thank goodness!! What happened? Where are you?\\ she demanded, again startling Hannu with her quickness of thought and reaction. She instantly tuned herself into the link, her mind-voice chiming like a bell, clear and sweet. //I am still at Fairwoods. The attack appears to have ceased. Where are you? Is Mulder with you?\\ //I don't know where we are. Some castle somewhere.\\ A slight shiver echoed down the link. //And a pretty nasty place by the look of it! But yes, Mulder is here, and Scully and Andalor and Daanna. I guess we all fell through at once. But Mulder and Scully are out cold.\\ //Out cold?\\ Hannu questioned, eyes narrowing as he tried to understand. She replied with a visual image of the couple, wrapped up in each other's arms on a scorched, gray stone floor. //They're asleep,\\ she added. Hannu sent her a jolt of understanding. //Yes, I see. What of the Black Mage?\\ //Gone,\\ Shannon's thoughts were colored with delicious triumph. //Mulder and Scully kicked her butt!!\\ //Ahhh,\\ Hannu let that unfamiliar colloquism go by unremarked, the basic idea clear enough. //What about the king and young Daanna? Are they all right?\\ //Yes, yes, they're fine. Andy's not hurt at all. Daanna's scared to death.\\ Confusion colored Shannon's reply. //I think she helped Mulder during the fight.\\ Hannu echoed her confusion, but the worried gazes of the people around him forced him to move on to more pressing concern. He smiled down at Aldara, nodding his head in response to her unspoken question. She sagged into her husband's arms, tears pooling in the corners of her huge emerald eyes. //Lady Shannon, we need to find a way to bring you back here. Do you see any remnant of the Gate that brought you there?\\ He could almost feel her shaking head, the link between them was so vivid. //No, it just snapped off after Andy and I fell through. Besides, Mulder and that witch were throwing around so much power the entire place still reeks of it. Can you make another?\\ Hannu hesitated. //Perhaps, but I am tired and I do not know your surroundings. If Mulder were able to anchor it for me, then it could be done. Without him, I do not know.\\ Shannon's worry rose sharply. //Mulder's in pretty bad shape. I doubt he's going to wake up for quite a while. I think he probably really needs a healer - bad. Is there anyway I can help?\\ //A Gate is a difficult spell even for a trained Mage,\\ Hannu replied. However, his options were limited, and at least he could use her to see the other end. It had been a long time since he had constructed a Gate on his own, without another Mage to assist. But he didn't want to leave them stranded for much longer. If the Black Mage had allies, they could be in real danger. Especially if Mulder and Scully were too drained to protect themselves. Jhorgab was nearly jumping up and down with anxiety. "Is Shannon well? And the others? Can you bring them home..." "Be quiet!" Hannu barked at him. "And be still. They are fine, though Mulder and Scully are unconscious. If I am going to create a Gate without another Mage to help on their end, I will need total concentration. No disturbances. Do you understand?" The little troll shut off in mid-syllable, clamped his jaw shut, and fell to a crouch beside Reinald. He nodded, his eyebrows twitching. "Good," Hannu's eyes swung from one person to another, and they all silently indicated understanding. He drew in a deep breath, then again closed his eyes. //Shannon, I am going to attempt to create a Gate. I need you to act as my eyes on your end. I may be directing some power through you also. You must stay as still as possible and do as I instruct without question. It may hurt a bit, I'm sorry. But you must *not* break the link at any time or it could be disastrous. Do you understand?\\ //Yes,\\ came the terse reply, as tense as though delivered between gritted teeth. Hannu sent her a brief touch of approval, then he slowly began the spell. Power surged up through him, and he deftly anchored the first leg of the Gate. Holding the power firmly under control, he fed it down the link, surging into and through Shannon. His power melded into the budding growth of her own, straining to break free. Hannu gasped aloud with the effort of maintaining control, then nearly staggered to his knees when Shannon suddenly added her mind to his. Her mind closed on the shimmering energy, stabilizing it just enough for him to move it forward. Together, they forced it down into the hard stone, anchoring it, then twisting it upwards. They worked to a single purpose, Shannon working to Hannu's direction, following his lead with stunning ease. She could feel his mind move, sense his thoughts almost before he put them into practice. He could see easily through her eyes to watch the fiery azure power as they wove it into a gleaming arc. Finally, he pulled it back towards him, and grounded it to complete the spell. Once last wrenching twist, and it was finally done. Their link snapped with it, and both fell to their knees, gasping for breath. The centers of the two distant arcs wavered, then solidified into an open gateway between them. "Daanna!!" Aldara cried, and the little girl broke free of Shannon and went running into her mother's arms as fast as her small legs would take her. Aldara swept the child up into her embrace, then turned to let Jourdain gather up his entire family. He squeezed them both in an exultory hug, wrapping massive protective arms around them. Andalor supported Shannon, who staggered in the aftermath of the Gate-making, barely able to find the strength to keep her lungs pumping air. Andalor pulled her to her feet, slipping one hand around her waist. Jhorgab burst the Gate and helped him carry her through and set her down on the edge of a large stone fragment. Hannu walked over to look down at her, and when she finally looked up into his face, he smiled warmly at her. "Well done, young woman. You will make a fine Mage someday. Your taabsut will be very proud of you." Her bleached complexion flushed instantly in response to his praise. He smiled and patted her shoulder briefly, then turned back towards the Gate. Stepping through, he fell gracefully to his knees beside Mulder and Scully. As he had expected, they were completely drained. It had taken every last ounce of strength they had to defeat the Black Mage. Feeling nearly drained himself, he reached out to attempt to pick Mulder up, only to fall back on his heels when a massive hand closed on his shoulder. "You get Scully and I'll carry Mulder," Jourdain instructed gruffly. Hannu nodded gratefully, scrambling out of the way to let the big soldier pick up the tall, slender Mage. Jourdain hefted his friend's body as gently as he would have held his daughter, the muscles bulging in his arms. Silently, he carried Mulder through to relative safety, Hannu following close behind with Scully draped over his arms. They set the bondmates down side-by-side, near the barely conscious Reinald and Tarnor. Once everyone was safely on the Fairwoods side of the Gate, Hannu turned back, issuing a sharp word of command. The Gate shimmered, then burst in a bright flare of light. The others turned to stare at the ancient Mage with surprise, for they'd never seen a Gate closed in such a manner. Hannu responded calmly. "Simply a precaution. I let it loose on the other side. Ought to destroy most of the Black Mage's lair before it subsides. With any luck it will be uninhabitable for quite a while." Jourdain, Aldara and Andalor nodded, Shannon and Jhorgab both grinned appreciatively. Hannu smiled wryly, then let himself slide to a seated position beside Aldara and Daanna. The little girl was still shaking, though her sobbing had stopped. She remained enclosed in her mother's arms, but turned wide blue eyes on the Mage. Hannu was startled by the sudden sharp intelligence he saw gleaming in her expression. Leaning closer to her, he chided gently. "That was foolish, little one. You should not have gone through the Gate. You scared your parents very much." "I had to. I was needed," came the firm reply. Aldara looked stunned, Jourdain came to kneel down beside his family. "What do you mean, Daanna?" Matching eyes met as she turned to gaze serenely up at her father. "I had to tell Mulder the bad lady's name. That was the only way he could make her go away and not hurt anyone again." Hannu jerked, his eyes widening with shock. "You knew her name?" Daanna nodded solemnly, her mane of ebony curls dancing across her slight shoulders. "But how?" Aldara asked, staring at her daughter with a familiar expression of amazement and uncertainty. Daanna shrugged. "I just knew." Jourdain and Aldara's eyes met, Hannu looked thoughtful as he studied the little girl, sensing her aura as it flowed orange and blue around her. It had been a very long time since he'd seen such an aura. The last had died in the battle with the Black Mage, her skills at prophecy not enough to survive betrayal and deceit. Hannu shivered, then forced the terrible memories away. This time, they had won. And the Black Mage could harm them no longer. "You're a very wise young lady," he told Daanna, smiling at her. Turning to look at Jourdain, he smiled wistfully. "You're lucky to have such a gifted daughter. I've always wished to have a child of my own." Daanna frowned suddenly, her red lips forming prettily into a pout. Her high-pitched voice was thick with frustration. "But you do." Hannu reared back, utterly stunned. The others gazed at them, equally surprised. "What do you mean?" the Mage questioned. "I don't..." The little girl sighed, shaking her head as though he were behaving very stupidly. Lifting a small arm, she pointed straight at Shannon. "Of course you do. She's your daughter." Hannu gazed in shock over at Shannon. The king was helping the shaky girl to sit up. She shook her head as if she were trying to clear it. "Daanna, honey. That simply isn't possible." "Come, Daanna, let us get you home. We'll have Lita make you something special for your supper," Aldara crooned. "You've had a long, scary day, and you're overtired." The child opened her mouth to protest, but nothing emerged save an enormous yawn. "Am not," she insisted, rubbing her eyes with a grubby fist. "I'll send the guard for Mulder and Scully and the other Mages. They'll bring them back to their chambers if the castle is safe," Jourdain said. Hannu nodded. Then the immense Captain of the Royal Guard reached down and swung his daughter up onto his shoulders. "Come along, kitten. I'll give you a ride." The family, exhausted in mind and body, started back to a home they weren't even sure was still there. Over her shoulder, Daanna piped out, "I'm right. You'll see!" Hannu walked slowly over to sit next to Shannon, Andalor's arm protectively around her shoulders. The awkward silence stretched out between them all. Finally, the Mage cleared his throat. "Interesting...what the child said. Impossible, of course, but interesting." Shannon didn't reply for some time. Then, grasping Andalor's hand, she demanded unsteadily, "Where did it come from? The Mage-power I used for the Gate - where did it come from? I mean, I knew I had a little ability, but...nothing like that. I have to know! Did it come from me or from you?" She finally dragged her frightened, mystified eyes up to meet his gaze. "Well, a lot of it came from me, the control did, certainly. But you generated considerable power on your own. But why so disturbed, child? Mulder is your uncle, you obviously inherited his talents." She shook her head vehemently and said in a voice close to panic, "But that's just it! You don't understand! Mulder's not my real uncle!" The Mage looked at her in shock. "But...! Well, maybe you got your power from another close relation." Now she laughed, not far from hysteria. "I really don't think so. We're not real big on Mages where I come from. Look, I don't know what Mulder and Scully have told you, but we're not from here. Nowhere even close. Hannu, we come from a totally different world. We don't have powers like this where I come from. I couldn't have been born with it. Who ever heard of a Mage in Cambridge, anyway?" Hannu's face bleached whiter than Shannon's dress. "Y- you come from the village of Cambridge? In the land of Massachusetts?" "Y-yes!" she gasped. "But how did you...? How would...?" A squad of guards approached, carrying litters. A stunned Hannu and the king helped them roll the recumbent forms of the exhausted Mages and the Mage Companion onto the stretchers. Then the guards bore their precious burdens off in the direction of the castle. The men seated themselves again on either side of the dazed girl. Gently, Hannu picked up one of her hands and placed it in his own. "I have a story to tell you. It is my story. I have never told the whole thing to anyone, partly because of the pain it causes me, and I suppose partly because I did not want anyone to think I was a lunatic." His face twisted into a wry grin. "Don't say anything until I've finished, all right?" Still in shock, she gave a ghost of a nod. "Good. Now as you know, when I battled the Dark Queen, forces were unleashed that threw me into a different time and place. When I came to my senses, it was night - very cold - and there was snow on the ground. I was barely conscious, but I remember...looking up...and seeing only one moon. And being terrified. I somehow got to my feet and staggered into a great building with walls of glass and bright lights pouring out. "I was frightened, but it was warm inside, and I was freezing. I could hear voices, human voices, but speaking in a tongue that was foreign to me. There were many doors and I went from one to another until I found one that would open to me, and went in. It was warm and dark and quiet, which is all I wanted or needed at the time. I curled up under a long table, and slept, I know not for how long. "When I awoke - or I should say, was awakened - it was still dark. Or maybe it had again grown dark. What awakened me was a human female who had touched the wall and filled the room with light. Not wishing to be discovered, I looked out from under the table, meaning to leave as soon as her back was turned. But she saw me." He laughed shortly. "I don't know which of us was more frightened. I tried to explain who I was and where I was from, but she couldn't understand me, nor I her. We heard voices echoing in the corridor outside. Suddenly, I felt faint, and leaned heavily on the table for support. At that moment, her expression changed, and she seemed to arrive at a decision. She took me by the arm and led me down the hallway. She took a key from her pocket and unlocked one door and then another, locking it behind us. Then she led me into a strange room, filled with metal boxes and tables. She tried to tell me something and then she left." "Well, I assumed I was her prisoner, and knew not what fate awaited me. But some time later she returned, bringing food and ale and blankets and fresh clothing. She smiled - a beautiful smile. She indicated that her name was Karen" - a muffled sob came from Shannon, quickly hushed - "and I managed to tell her my name. Then she left. "When it again grew dark, she came back, and took me from the room to the outside. We got into a strange horseless cart and moved along a firm trail with a lot of other carts. The wonders I saw that night! And the noise of it all! Finally we reached her dwelling. "In the time that followed, I learned much about my new world, its wonders and its horrors. Karen taught me her language, enough to get by, anyway. When I had learned enough of the world not to be danger to myself, we began to go out, taking long walks while she would answer my questions and tell me more about my new surroundings. Karen told everyone I was a refugee from a land called Eastern Europe, and that seemed to be accepted without question by most of the people we met. "So I studied, and learned. I had long since discovered that the powers I took for granted in the Realm were lost to me in this strange world. But I gained something that had always been denied me. "By the time the trees had blossomed and the fruit was ripe on their limbs, we had fallen in love." Hannu seemed a bit hesitant, uncomfortable. "If Karen thought my awkwardness unusual, she gave no sign. As with everything, she was a patient and loving teacher. I was...I was overwhelmed with the emotions, emotions I had never felt before. But everything was perfect, and I felt I had a home at last. "Then one day she called me on that strange instrument you call a telephone. She seemed happy and asked me to meet her at her office at the end of her work time. She had given me a key, and she said no one would be near the room that day. So I went to meet her." Hannu paused, his eyes filling with tears. "I was in the inner chamber - the one Karen called the laboratory. I had locked the door behind me and was looking at all the strange instruments. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched whining roar coming from the far corner, and the very air shimmered and then swirled. I felt myself being sucked into the air. I cried out, desperately grabbing at the tables to keep myself from being drawn into that - thing. But I wasn't strong enough. My hands slipped and I was pulled down into a void. The last thing I heard was Karen's scream." All three were weeping openly now. "I found myself in the Realm. The rest you know." The girl threw herself into his arms and they clung together for dear life. Finally, as if the words were being ripped from his very heart, he asked in a whisper. "Just tell me this, child. Did she hate me for leaving?" Shannon drew back. Gently, she wiped the tears from his cheeks and even managed a smile. "Oh no. She didn't speak of you often - I think it was too painful for her - but when she did, she smiled, and her face looked, I don't know, softer, like she was in love all over again. She never stopped loving you." "And I never stopped loving her." They held each other close, trying to come to terms with what they had lost, and what they had gained. Finally he stood and reached a hand down to help her up. "You are very like me, you know - your hair, your eyes...and your Mage-gifts. I don't know why I didn't see it before." She smiled up at him. "And I don't know why I didn't recognize you. Back in my room, there's a photograph. I think you'll want to see it. It was my mother's favorite picture, one of you and her. But you look so much younger in the picture - your hair was completely black, and you didn't have that long beard and mustache." He chuckled wryly. "I WAS younger in that picture. I had forgotten about that photograph. I can still remember the day it was taken. I'd like to see it very much." Arm in arm they walked to the castle, a contemplative Andalor still grasping her other hand. - - - - - Sirisa took a deep breath as she left Mandor's mind and body, then turned to Livirnea and Norilka, hovering anxiously nearby. "He is gravely injured and has lost a great deal of blood. I have stopped the bleeding and begun the healing process." "Then he will live?" Livirnea asked hopefully, her wide gray eyes filled with tears. "I cannot say. Perhaps, if he has healers day and night. Much damage has been done to his life organs. I am particularly worried about his spine. If he is to live and to walk again, he must have nearly continuous healing treatments for quite some time." "Well, then, do it!" commanded Norilka. She had washed and changed since the violent earthquake, stripping off the bloodstained garments with revulsion. "I fear I cannot," Sirisa said with dignity. "With Corvay dead and Kyla still unwell I am the only healer in Fairwoods. Scores of beings have been injured and cling precariously to life, and I must tend them all. As a healer, I cannot and will not abandon them and attend only one, no matter how worthy he may be. I'm sorry." "Sorry? You haven't begun to be sorry yet! Do you know who my husband is, what position he holds? How dare you? With Marvick and Horvay dead, with this betrothal, our house has the opportunity to be pre-eminent among all the houses! I demand you devote yourself full time to my husband's care!" "Mother - " began Livirnea, embarrassed. "Quiet, girl!" On the pallet on the floor of the small ballroom, Mandor stirred. Instantly, Livirnea was on her knees by his side. "Father! Father, do you need anything? Are you in pain?" "Nay, daughter, the healer has eased my pain. My thanks to you, Healer Sirisa. I heard you. What would you suggest I do?" She thought for a moment. "Do you have a healer at your estate?" To save her father the effort of speaking, Livirnea broke in. "Yes - two, actually. We have a healer and an apprentice who is nearing the end of his training." She nodded briskly. "Then there is no question. My recommendation is to put you in stasis so you may travel back to your home in safety and in comfort. I will send full instructions. Once there, you will have two healers to tend to your injuries. They will be able to provide much more healing than I can right now." "Send him away from Fairwoods? Are you a lunatic, woman?" Norilka spat out, her arms gesticulating wildly. "He must be here. It is critical for him to be here, to grasp the opportu-" "Norilka - enough! Healer Sirisa, how soon can you put me in stasis?" "I have other injured to check on, but I can return in a candlemark to begin the stasis chant." "Be it so, then. Thank you." Mandor's eyelids fluttered closed. The healer bowed, glared at Norilka, and left the room. The noblewoman turned furiously on Livirnea. "Go to the king! Make him command that bitch to take care of your father! What kind of a daughter are you? You will be queen. You have power now - use it!" "Mother, I don't think-" "Do it, girl! What queen would let her father die, just so that some troll, or elf kitchenmaid, may live? Move!" "Stay!" The strength of Mandor's command belied his grave condition. "Norilka, I will hear no more about it. I have made my decision." "But Mandor, the other Heads of Houses were killed in the Mage-attack! You can make House Ranfaus the most powerful Noble House there has ever been. Don't squander -" "Quiet, woman! Sit - over there - and not another word. I would speak to my daughter before the healer returns." With bad grace, Norilka flounced across the room to the indicated chair and sat, glowering. He reached up to his daughter. "Livirnea, my dearest one. I want you to tell me the truth. Do you wish this betrothal to the king?" "I..." The girl's head spun. She wanted so badly to tell her father the truth, to tell him she wanted no part of the betrothal, but in his condition.... "Never mind, my dear. Your face speaks for you." Mandor shook his head slightly. "I have seen you and the king together, and it is a pretty couple that you make. But your duties are so firmly writ upon you.... There is no joy in this pairing, for either of you, is there?" "No, father, there is not," she said firmly and clearly. "Livirnea! What are you saying?" Norilka howled. "Are you trying to kill your father?" "Silence!" Dropping his voice so that only his daughter could hear, he sighed and murmured, "This is what comes of arranged marriages. She is pretty, your mother, but also a scold and over-ambitious. Livirnea, I wish for you the happiness I have not had. You must follow your own path. What way would you go, pet?" "I wish to continue to study with the Professor. Father, I want to be useful, to discover new wonders, to learn to be a scientist like the Professor. This would bring me happiness." "And what of marriage, my dear?" Her lashes fluttered shyly. "Someday, father. To a man I love. Andalor is in love with Shannon, and he has been very good to me. No matter what happens, I do not want to be the one that tears them from each other." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Ah, well, we will see what we can do about that. But in any event, my daughter will have the happiness she seeks. Norilka, come here." "What have you been saying, you ungrateful wench?" she hissed at her daughter. "Bring me my writing things, child. Norilka, I am overturning the betrothal." "WHAT? You are mad, you are out of your mind with pain, with...with weakness. Don't be an idiot, Mandor! Livirnea, what have you done?" "One more word, Norilka, and I will banish you to my lands near the Uriin Plains where your fine clothes and sparkling jewels will be useless." She paled and choked out, "You wouldn't dare!" "Oh, but I would. Livirnea, dear, hold the parchment - yes, just like that." Weakly and with a tremendous effort, he brushed some words onto the parchment. "Now, go call Raviar." Obediently, Livirnea left the room and soon returned with Mandor's second in command. When they entered the chamber, Norilka sat, her cheeks flaming with anger, but silent and chastened. The girl could only guess at what her father must have said in her absence. "Lord Mandor, I bring the good wishes of the battalion. Many prayers to the Goddess for your speedy return to health are being said even as we speak." The tall, handsome officer gazed down on the Head of the House with sympathy. "Send them my thanks, Raviar. I can use all of them. Soon the healer will place me in stasis. Ready a squad to accompany me home. But first, you must deliver this document to the Council. I know all is in chaos, but be sure that the most senior members see this document and acknowledge it." "Understood, my lord." Mandor nodded tiredly. "Then take it to Reinald and the king. After it has been acted upon, it is my wish that you remain here with the balance of your troops, and assist the king as he directs. I'm counting on you, Raviar." "It will be my sacred duty, my lord. May the Goddess go with you." With tears brimming in his dark eyes, he saluted his fallen commander. Ignoring Norilka's presence, he bowed deep before the pretty young girl. "Lady Livirnea." Then he went to do his commander's bidding. Appraisingly, Mandor watched him take his leave. "He's a good man. He will serve the king well in my absence." There was a soft knock at the door, and the healer glided in. "If you are ready, Lord Mandor...." "Yes. Livirnea, come here, child." The girl, tears running down her cheeks, knelt at her father's side. "Stay with me, sweet child, while the healer does her work. Now, I want you to stay here when I leave." Seeing her about to protest, he said, "No. There will be more than enough beings to care for me back at the estate. Your mother knows my wishes and she will comply." He looked pointedly at Norilka, who nodded sullenly. "Will you do that for me?" "Anything, Papa," she wept. "Dry your tears, daughter. I promise you, I will be back. Make me proud of you. Now, hold your Papa's hand while I sleep, eh?" The healer smiled encouragingly, and stepped forward to begin her chant. - - - - - The sun shone brilliantly through the tall, narrow windows of Reinald's chamber, casting pools of light upon the stone floor. Having slept since their collapse, Mulder and Scully felt refreshed but still shaky after their labors of the day before. They sat with the Mages and Professor Neumann at the large table, pale but in high spirits. Reinald and Tarnor, too, grew stronger by the candlemark, and helped themselves generously from the platters of sweet fruits and breads that were circulated around the table. The Professor sat close to his friends, absentmindedly munching on his breakfast, but probably unable to identify what he was eating, if asked. His mind was at work on the structural plans for rebuilding the Great Hall. Jhorgab, Aldara and Jourdain were not able to be with them, touring other areas of Fairwoods damaged by the Mage-attack and trying to assess the cost of repairs. "...and that was that," Mulder was saying. "With first, the use of the Lost Powers, thanks to the crash course Hannu gave me the night before last, and then Daanna's contribution, which stunned the Black Mage, and then Scully's to top it all off, I was able to send her packing through the vortex. Goodness knows where she may have ended up." "If I have a vote, I cast it in favor of the dimension with the Dark Creatures," Scully grinned. "They deserve each other." There was laughter around the table. "So the prophecy was true," mused Reinald. "The Lost Powers were the first arrow, and Daanna the second, the Guardian - she actually announced that she was the Guardian?" At Mulder's nod, the old Mage shook his head. "Amazing. That child is going to be formidable someday. I wish I knew what to make of her; perhaps our friend Hannu can help. And then Scully was the third blue arrow?" "I had an idea, when I started thinking about the passage that read 'at one with the blue-cloaked archer'," admitted Mulder. "It seemed to correlate with Scully's and my relationship as Mage and Mage Companion. I just didn't know if I was reading more into the prophecy than was meant..." The party stood as Pitir opened the door for Andalor, Shannon and Hannu. The girl self-consciously broke her grasp of Andalor's hand as they entered, intending to sit near Mulder, but the king held on. She looked up at him, for once unsure of herself. Then the deep violet eyes smiled at her and she went willingly with him to the table, her heart thudding as she took the seat that he held out for her. Then he defiantly seated himself beside her. A small frown passed over Reinald's face as everyone seated themselves. Hannu sat across from Andalor, a silent conversation taking place between them. The girl looked from one to the other, puzzled. Last evening they had all gone to her chamber, and she had pulled out all the photographs she had retrieved from her mother's home. For candlemarks they had sprawled on the rug, Hannu consuming the pictures with hungry eyes and Andalor no less interested, as Shannon told the story that went along with each one. The twin moons were high in the night sky when the king and Hannu had left together. This morning, when she answered the knock on her door, the two were together again, and she had the distinct feeling that they were up to something. An uneasy sensation gripped the assemblage that had nothing to do with the conversation, as Mulder and Scully were brought up to date on the damage and deaths wrought by the previous day's Mage-attack. Mulder had not missed Reinald's frown at seeing Andalor and Shannon together again. Scully wriggled in her seat, with a feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. It was not long in coming. "Reinald, I must talk with you," Andalor said determinedly. "It can be either before our friends or in private, but we must speak." "I think I can guess what this is about," the Mage replied gravely. "Andalor, there is nothing to be done. The betrothal has been, of necessity, postponed. When Mandor is again well enough, the ceremony will be rescheduled." "But Shannon saved my life! The Black Mage would have killed me if it weren't for her." "And Shannon shall have my undying and most heartfelt gratitude. As do Mulder and Scully and everyone else who saved you and all of us from the Black Mage. Unfortunately, where royal traditions are concerned, it changes nothing." "But Livirnea doesn't want it. I don't want it." "The Lady Livirnea has not made her feelings known, and even if she did, it still changes nothing. Her parents approve and the Council approves. You would certainly not be the first royal couple who were less than ecstatic about their betrothal. It's bigger than two people. It's the whole Realm and our traditions, passed down from time immemorial." Softening, the Mage said gently, "I would give anything to see you happy, Andalor, but this is beyond my power." The others sat around the table, embarrassed at the unfolding scene, feeling sympathy for the young king and also for the old Mage, both forced into a predicament not of their making. It was with relief, then, that a knock sounded on the door and Pitir hurried to answer it. He swung the door open, admitting an exhausted Raviar. "My apologies, Your Majesty, Royal Mage," he said, striding to the table. "I would have been here much sooner but my errand caused somewhat of an uproar among the surviving members of the Council." "Please, sit, Raviar," the king said. "Pitir, some tea for the Captain. Now, what news have you of Lord Mandor?" "He departed last night, Sire. He was placed in stasis to return home where his own healers may give him all the treatments he requires." Reinald nodded, his abundant beard bobbing on his chest. "An excellent decision. Healer Sirisa is overtaxed with the injured as it is. Our prayers go with him." "Thank you, Royal Mage. I am sure he appreciates it. Now, prior to his departure, he charged me with carrying this document to the Council members and seeing that they acted upon it. But the Council is in chaos, and the errand took me far longer than expected. I have only this morning seen the last of the senior Council members. Between the disorder and the purpose of my errand, it has been a long, trying night." "And what is the purpose of your errand?" inquired the king. Raviar appeared uncomfortable, and passed the parchment to Andalor. "Apparently, Your Majesty, it is Lord Mandor's wish to dissolve the betrothal agreement." "What? But this is unprecedented!" Reinald cried. The captain smiled wryly. "So the Council members have given me to believe. As I said, my errand has caused quite a stir." Then he sobered and turned his gaze to the king. "I'm sorry, Sire. I realize this is quite a blow for you." Andalor lowered the document which had been obscuring his face, to reveal an expression of purest joy. "Good for Livirnea! I don't know how she managed it, but she did it!" He passed the parchment to Reinald. "S-sire?" Of all the reactions his news might have brought, Raviar was not expecting unbridled joy. What in the name of the Goddess was wrong with the king? Why, Lady Livirnea was lovely, and pure, and sweet.... Anyone would be proud to have her for his wife. As if reading his mind, Andalor hastened to explain. "Oh, make no mistake, Captain Raviar, I have nothing but the highest esteem and best wishes for the Lady Livirnea. I count myself fortunate to have her for a friend, and shall continue to do so. It is just that I knew the lady had no desire for this betrothal. I think enough of her to wish her to be happy." "Yes, Your Majesty. Quite right." Raviar stood. "My errand is completed, then. I must get some sleep, Sire, but I shall await your orders for my battalion. I am sure you can use the assistance somewhere." "I appreciate yours and Lord Mandor's kindness in this difficult time. It will not be forgotten, Captain. Sleep well. Captain Jourdain will see that you receive your orders by sundown." "Thank you, Sire. Good day." With that, the tired and confused nobleman quit the chamber to seek his bed. Triumph blazed in Andalor's eyes. "That's it, Reinald. It's finished. The betrothal agreement is dissolved." "There will be some formalities to be observed...the full Council will have to meet," murmured Reinald, dazed by the sudden turn of events. What could have happened? What was going to happen now? There was no precedent, no tradition, no ritual to cling to. Andalor pressed forward his advantage. "I want your guarantee, Reinald, that I will be allowed to choose my queen. Freely, with no limitations." The flowing white locks shook. "Andalor, it is not our way, we have traditions -" "If I may observe, Mage Reinald, it appears that Lord Mandor's dissolution of the betrothal agreement has already broken new ground," Hannu commented calmly. The king flashed him a look of gratitude. Reinald sighed. "But the Council must... All right, Andalor, and if I could agree to this request, whom would you choose?" "I want Shannon to be my queen. If she'll have me." The king's eyes never left the old Mage's face, but he heard the gasp of the girl beside him. "You know that's impossible. Shannon, dear, you know we all love you and you would make a wonderful queen. Personally, I have no objection. But the Council will never pass it." Shannon studied her empty plate, her cheeks burning. Mulder wished he could communicate with her like he could Scully, anything to comfort her, to ease her embarrassment. "Why would they not approve? How do we know unless we try?" Andalor argued. "There is precedent for marrying outside the nobility - not often, but it has happened." "That is only one problem. Have you already forgotten the scrutiny that the betrothed must endure? The investigation into her family lines? All of us here know Shannon is not of the Realm, but no one else does." Reinald's eyes widened and he cast an anxious glance toward Hannu. "I have become aware of that fact, Mage," Hannu replied evenly. "I will keep the confidence." Reinald nodded curtly. "When Shannon came to the Realm, it was necessary to protect her status. As an orphan with no family, you know the difficult road she would have faced. She is physically enough like Mulder and bears a trace of Mage-blue in her aura. So it was decided to cast Mulder in the role of her uncle, her taabsut." "And it's been a pleasure," declared Mulder. Shannon's eyes crept up from her plate to regard him warmly. "So you feel that would be the Council's main objection - that she is an orphan with no family, that she has no real connection to the Realm," pressed the king. "That would certainly be the biggest obstacle to the Council, yes." Andalor went in for the kill. "And what if she did have family? Not only family, but was connected by blood to one of the Realm's most famous sons?" All sound stopped in the chamber. Stunned, Reinald stammered, "B-but she doesn't. Sh-she isn't. Andalor, you aren't suggesting that we concoct a huge fabrication for the Council? Because I can tell you, they will definitely find out and -" "I am Shannon's father," Hannu quietly announced. If all sound ceased with Andalor's announcement, all time stopped with Hannu's. Scully felt the words hit Mulder's consciousness with a dull thud. Felt the brutal contraction of his heart. Sensed the exquisite pain of impending loss, a loss he knew - damn him - that was fated to happen, just as he had lost so many others in his life. No, it couldn't happen again. She wouldn't let it. "Wait a minute!" Scully demanded. "How can you think we'll just accept this on your word? I mean, this is incredible! What proof do you have?" "Scully, I felt the same way," Shannon said softly. "Believe me, this is my father. He knows everything - about Cambridge, and things about my home and my mother that no one else could have known." "But how is this possible?" cried the Professor. "I knew Karen well, I worked closely with her, was with her all during her pregnancy. Shannon is beyond question Karen's daughter. How...?" "The other world that I was cast into so long ago was your world." Hannu, his mind full of bittersweet memories, looked intently at the old Professor for the first time. "Are you...could you possibly be...Professor Neumann? Karen spoke of you, often. I did not know until this moment..." Now Scully's heart sank as Mulder's had done. So it was true. That explained the odd sense of famliarity she'd felt towards Hannu from the beginning, as though she had seen him somewhere before. The picture Shannon had of her parents...now Scully could recognize the man as a much younger, beardless Hannu. Turning instinctively to Mulder, she felt his effort to repress the almost overwhelming pain, and to feel joy for the girl he'd come to love. Oh no, Scully thought. Not again. Not another dark, pretty child who wins his heart, only to disappear from his life. Then she was in his mind with him fully, comforting, supporting, soothing, trying to ease his pain by sharing it. "Actually, we all knew Karen," said Tarnor. "All too briefly, for most of us, but we knew her. Everyone here, and Jourdain and Aldara, as well." "Sweet Goddess!" The Mage drew a shaky breath. "Do you mean you have all been to the other world?" There were solemn nods from everyone seated at the table. "Good, sweet Goddess. It appears there is much I do not know." "This is true, then, Mage Hannu?" Reinald asked seriously. "By my oath to the Goddess, it is. There is still much unknown between us, but Shannon is without doubt my daughter." "Now, Reinald. Will you go to the Council in support of my choice?" Andalor waited tensely. The old Mage was silent for a long moment. Then, his face creasing into a tender smile, he said, "I have not yet heard the lady's answer to your proposal." The king turned to Shannon, taking her hands in his. With touching gravity, he asked, "Lady Shannon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and my queen?" The girl stared into the deep violet eyes, lost in their longing and their love. When she could trust her voice to speak, she answered. "The honor is mine, Your Majesty." End of Chapter Twenty Three THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 24 The dawns were sweeter since the defeat of the Black Mage. It was as though a haze had lifted from the Realm. The sun shone brighter, flowers bloomed more richly, the air was cleaner. Everyone stepped lighter, even those in mourning, as though an invisible weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Still, the Council was stunned. Two of the house-holders were dead and a third was bed-ridden, possibly for the rest of his life. The Great Hall was in ruins, and while repairs were underway, the scars would remain for many season-cycles to come. Prince Mavor had ridden in days after the cataclysm, shocked by what he found. He was quick to come to Andalor's aid, and soon served as a source of great wisdom and strength. The Elven leader and Mage Hannu became instant friends, spending long hours discussing the history of the Realm. Mavor also became a firm ally in Andalor's battle to get Council approval for his marriage to Shannon, which surprisingly had been less of a battle than expected. Marvick of Dordinal and Horvay of Maalfes were dead, leaving their houses embroiled in internal turmoil as their children struggled for ascendancy. Too occupied with their own grief and problems, they gave little opposition to the king's wishes. For her part, Livirnea displayed a remarkable power of will. Even her brother, Tallor, when he arrived, was unable to sway her mind. She had decided to apprentice herself to the Professor, and insisted that Andalor should marry Shannon as he wished. Tallor argued perfunctorily with his beloved little sister, then threw up his hands and bowed to her demands. And once Ranfaus had given its acceptance, the other Council members followed without complaint. Finally, the day of the new betrothal ceremony arrived, a new queen-to-be taking her place beside the young king. This ceremony took place on the edge of the forest, green grass thick beneath their feet. The sky was a clear azure, nary a cloud marring the spectacle. Shannon was radiant in her white gown, her head crowned with the simplest of lace veils, iridescent white pearls woven within the gleaming wealth of raven hair. Andalor stood proudly beside her, unable to keep himself from smiling, despite the fierce glare from the new priestess. Andalor was unrepentant, as was Shannon, both finding it difficult to stand still through yet another long recitation of his family's grand history. Once the requisite chanting was done, the priestess guided them through a blessedly short period of question and answer. They swore allegiance and loyalty, truth and acceptance of responsibility, first to each other, and then to the Realm itself. Reinald witnessed for Andalor, Mavor for the Realm, and Hannu for Shannon. That made Mulder twist uncomfortably in place, a harsh taste burning his throat as he swallowed. Scully soothed him with a wave of love and understanding, and he settled quietly in place as each of the house and species representatives stepped forward to pay respects to their king's bride-to-be. The eldest sons of Dordinal and Ranfaus served for the fathers; for Maalfees, it was the daughter who took her sire's place. At last it came to an end, the priestess binding Andalor and Shannon's wrists together symbolically with a silken white ribbon. They'd have to remain so bound for the remainder of the day, removing the cord only when the sun set that night. Shannon smiled warmly at her fiancee as the priestess led the procession through the make-shift center aisle towards the courtyard where the rather subdued, but always efficient Ballorca had set out the surviving refreshments from the previous, aborted ceremony. Andalor's stomach flipped at the gleam in her amber eyes, his fair skin flushing with warmth. While he was not unfamiliar with relations between men and women, he wasn't particularly experienced either, and if Shannon was true to form, his life was going to be...interesting. He swallowed hard, then grinned boyishly. He might just have a few surprises for his bride-to-be as well. He caught her eye, and they shared a look of triumph and delight. Mulder watched the young couple with gleaming eyes, Scully at his side. His heart felt like it would burst with pride and love for Shannon, and yet he couldn't help feeling a bittersweet sadness as well. He was losing her, so quickly, so soon after finding her. It seemed as though everyone he loved left him. Memories surged, the joy of believing he might have found Samantha only to see her snatched away again, the pain compounded by the sick sense of betrayal when he discovered that woman had never really been his sister at all. This wasn't the same - he knew that - but knowing and feeling can be very different things. He'd spent so much of his life keeping people at a distance, and now that he'd allowed some people in, the long familiar fear was reasserting itself with a vengeance. He was losing Shannon, just as he'd lost Samantha, and his father, and... Scully closed her hand on his, silent, squeezing his fingers between her own. A simple, customary gesture of comfort between them, it sent a tingle up the length of his arm. Without words or even mind-speak, he instinctively understood what she was saying. And the tender spirit of her love warmed him, easing the tenseness of his body and mind. He threaded his fingers through hers, leaning down to brush the coppery crown of her head with his lips. She leaned against him for an instant, then stepped forward to claim their place in line. Aldara and Jourdain stepped in behind them, carrying little Daanna, then Tarnor and Jhorgab next, and together, they walked into the festive courtyard. The party went on for hours, food consumed at a remarkable rate, the heaviness of it worn off in the elaborate, foot- stomping dances. Some were so stylized that most stepped aside to watch the experts perform, others were simple affairs, circles and lines weaving through each other in a flurry of silken color. Mulder preferred to stand and watch, his arm curled around Scully's shoulder, but neither she nor the others would allow him to remain still for long. He grumbled and laughed, always moving with pantherish grace. Scully gleamed like a fire spirit, floating through the crowds, her hair ablaze with the sunlight. Aldara was quick to join her friend, Jourdain following reluctantly behind. Jhorgab preferred to stand aside and watch, happy with a fist full of sweets. Andalor and Shannon were like a pair of children at a grown-up party, whispering and giggling, but always stately when they joined the dance. - - - - - Frowning, Mulder put down the untasted cup of elven punch pressed on him by a reveler. He knew that alcohol was to all intents and purposes off-limits to Mages and it would hardly improve his bittersweet mood. He looked around the courtyard. Already torches were being brought out as the twilight threatened to steal across the sky, chasing the fleeing sun. Children of all species ran between the dancers or frolicked on the periphery, pretending to be mighty warriors or powerful Mages, battling imaginary demons. In the pretty party dress and pinafore that Scully had given her, Daanna clutched her like-dressed doll and scampered with the others. Shannon, still literally bound to Andalor, carried herself with stunning grace and bearing. What a beautiful queen she will be, he thought. He let his eyes drift over the dancers. Jourdain gavotted with Aldara, and Scully dipped and swirled with the diminutive Prince Mavor, all losing themselves in the sprightly and infectious music. At the edge of the impromptu dance floor, Hannu, Gunther and Livirnea, heads together so they could hear, were deep in conversation. Reinald circulated through the crowd, proud, smiling. Near the dais, Tarnor and the priestess chatted, waiting for the approaching final ceremony of the day in which the silken bond would be severed, but the emotional tie remain. He looked over the selection of treats on the food table, but none tempted his appetite. He found himself drifting toward the darkness beyond the torches. //Mulder? Are you all right?\\ He sighed. She always knew. //Yeah. I just feel like a walk. I'm...well....\\ //Mulder, I'm sure she...\\ //I know. I just need some time alone.\\ //Okay. You know where I'll be...\\ ...in case you need me. She didn't have to say it, he could feel her concern. He mentally nodded and set off at a slow pace for the far side of the meadow, scanning the skies for the earliest traces of starlight. He knew Shannon cared for him. But now she had a fiancee - and a father. And she would be staying in the Realm when he and Scully departed. For a while it had looked as if she might go with them. Often in the moments before sleep, he had reviewed the relative merits of the schools she could go to, considered living arrangements. Those dreams were wasted now; she would be staying in the Realm. Not as traumatic a separation, certainly, as with Sam. But a separation nonetheless. How like Sam she was - or the Sam he imagined as a teenager. Ever since the abduction, he had made a practice, almost a ritual, of trying to picture her growing older as he did, going through the awkward early teens to blossom into a lovely young woman, as Shannon had, almost before his eyes. He had imagined the talks he would have had with her, her asking his advice about boyfriends, his being there for her when her heart was broken by some thoughtless kid. Samantha.... Light footsteps had scarcely intruded into his consciousness when an arm slid around his and held tight. Startled, he looked down to see Shannon, glowing with happiness in her white dress. "What are you doing here? I thought you were all tied up," he teased. "Nope. Just got snipped." She held up a slim, strong wrist, slightly reddened from the bindings. "Won't they be missing you from the party?" He folded her arm in the crook of his as they strolled together. "Nah. Everyone's pretty partied out, anyway." They walked in silence to the edge of the moonlit meadow to where the trees of the forest stood darker against the sky. Stopping, Mulder unfastened his cloak and spread it on the ground with a flourish. Then he bowed low. "M'lady." Smiling, Shannon curtseyed gracefully, then dropped artlessly onto the thick, warm folds like the tired teenager she was. "Oh! That feels great! I don't think I've sat down once all day." Mulder sat down on the cloak and pulled her feet into his lap. Removing her soft satin slippers, he began expertly to massage her feet. "Oh, Goddess! That's heaven, Mulder. I think I'm more used to leather boots than dancing slippers. My feet have been killing me ever since the ceremony. Where did you learn to do this?" "I get lots of practice. Back in our world, Scully's feet suffer from all those prolonged chases of fleeing felons in high heels." He laughed. "I meant Scully in high heels, not the felons." She chuckled. "Yeah, I figured that out." She relaxed to the massage, stretching out and leaning back on her elbows, bathing in the light of twin full moons. When he had finished, he replaced her slippers against the night chill. "Happy?" "Mulder, I am so happy, I'm scared. I've never been this happy in my whole life. I love Andalor so much. I just...I just wish my mother could have seen all this." She gave a sad laugh and her tone became wistful. "I don't know if she would have believed it or not, but I would give anything if she could have seen this place, met all my friends. If she could see me now. I feel like I've changed so much, like she could be proud of me now." "She was always proud of you, Shannon. And now, except for your mother, you have everything." He stared down at his folded hands. "A fiancee, a kingdom full of worshipping subjects...a father." "I know. Hannu is amazing. And it's wonderful having someone who knew my mother so well. When he tells stories of their time together, it's almost like she comes alive again for a little while." A long silence stretched out between them, punctuated only by the scurrying and calls of wild things in the forest. Finally Shannon spoke. "But Mulder...Hannu didn't save my life and Andalor's." Her voice was soft and her eyes were alive with her emotions. "Hannu wasn't the one who did everything humanly possible to save my mother's life. He wasn't there for me when she died, saying all the right things. He wasn't the one who gambled on a spoiled, delinquent brat, taking a chance and bringing me here when the only other place I could go was a foster home. Exposing me to all of this" - her hand swept the horizon - "and giving me the keys to a kingdom. He wasn't the one who was always there when I needed to talk, or to cry on someone's shoulder. He wasn't the one to set me straight when I needed it. Who gave me a life and a purpose...and a family. Hannu wasn't the one who set the example for strength and goodness. He didn't show me how to put someone else's happiness before my own, no matter what the cost. He wasn't the one who taught me about magic, or love, or the magic of love. That was all you, Mulder. Every bit of it." She sat up and stroked his cheek with cool, slim fingers, sliding down to cup his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I owe you more than I can ever say, let alone possibly even begin to repay." He shook his head. "I don't want-" "I know. You don't want repayment. Well, I don't know if this could be considered repayment, Mulder. All I know is that you are and always will be the first father I ever had." He tore his eyes from her, scanning the dark forest, letting the threatened tears subside. "I love you, Shannon," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I'll always love you." They sat in the dark and quiet for a long time, her hand in his. Then, with no words equal to what had already been said, they stood, Mulder picked up his cloak, and they walked back to the castle, hand in hand, in silence. - - - - - Scully was surprised when she heard the solid knock on the door. She'd been taking a long quiet bath, waiting for Mulder to return from his walk. It would have been simple to reach out and touch Mulder's mind, but she felt strongly that this was something he needed to handle on his own. He had a right to some privacy, and she knew that he'd come to her when he was ready. Actually, she was not unhappy to have some peaceful time alone, it was a luxury that had been in short supply the past several weeks. Dropping the towel over the edge of the tub, she wrapped her robe around her, securing the belt firmly before walking over to the door and opening it. "Gunther?" she said, surprised at finding the Professor standing outside her door, his fancy clothes rumpled and stained from the day's festivities. His eyes widened at the sight of her, disheveled and damp, then he broke into apologies. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Dana, but if I could speak with you and Mulder for a moment...." Holding the door open for him to enter, she stepped aside and waved for him to precede her. "I'm afraid Mulder isn't here right now," she replied softly. "But please, come in. I'd be glad of the company. Would you like some tea?" The offer was second nature now, and he acceded to it with a faint smile. Sitting down in the large, plush armchair he waited for her to warm the kettle over the fire and then pour the tea. When they were both sitting and sipping at the soothing beverage, the Professor cleared his throat and met her eyes. She lifted an auburn eyebrow, indicating for him to begin. "Before you left on the trip, Mulder had asked me to keep an eye on the time, so that we could send you back with only two weeks having passed in your world. However, with all the trouble lately, I had gotten a bit lazy about keeping track. It's totally my fault that I didn't give you more warning, but I'm afraid that you're running quite short on time. I'm sorry, my dear." He shook his head sadly. Actually, Scully wasn't surprised. She'd had a feeling that it would soon be time for them to leave. As much as she loved the Realm and her friends here, she was beginning to miss her family and her home. Her heart was torn between two worlds now, but she knew that she belonged in her own place -- that cramped, dusty basement office which was now as much hers as it had ever been Mulder's. "It's not your fault, Professor. We've all been extremely busy. Mulder and I should have been paying more attention to it ourselves. How soon do we have to leave?" The Professor thought for a moment. "No later than two days from now. The dawn after tomorrow would probably be best. I think I can return you directly to Washington, but I can't promise that for sure. If I get the time exactly right, the spacial location becomes a bit...variable." He frowned unhappily. Scully responded with understanding and amusement. "Just as long as you don't dump us in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean!" Startled, the Professor gaped at her, then suddenly began to chuckle. "Indeed my dear! I will certainly make sure of that." "Thanks, we'd appreciate it." Scully smiled at him, took another sip of her tea, then leaned back in her chair to somberly contemplate the flames dancing in the fireplace. "I...We will both be sorry to leave, even though it'll be good to see my family again. I've missed Mom a lot." "Then it is indeed time for you to go home," he said sympathetically. "I guess so. You'll be staying here, though?" she asked. The Professor responded with heartfelt certainty. "Oh yes. This is my home now. I've been here for over eight season-cycles and I've come to love it very much. Certainly there are things I miss, but nothing that I can't live without." He gazed intently at her. "But there are things that you can't live without, both you and Mulder. For now, you must return." Scully nodded. It had never been in question. When the time came, they would leave again. Mulder still had his cause to fight for, a sister to find, and Scully herself? His path was her path, his quest was hers. Not just because she loved him, but also because there were answers she needed as well. Putting those concerns aside for a few months had been a sweet relief, but they couldn't be ignored forever. Even so, she was going to miss this place. Her eyes wandered affectionately around the comfortable, familiar room. The huge, canopied bed and copper bathtub, the cushioned chairs by the fireplace, a cup of tea in her hands -- this chamber would always hold a cherished spot in her memories. "Are you all right, my dear?" The Professor's voice startled her, tea sloshing in her cup as she turned to look at him. Smiling reassuringly, she put her tea down then reached out to touch his arm. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how much I'll miss this place." "Then you must come back again." A taste of eagerness crept into his gnarled voice. "Mage Hannu and I have already made great strides. I believe that we will soon be able to stabilize the vortex construction enough to make travel between dimensions much safer. Of course, it will have to be carefully controlled and restricted, but I see no reason that you and Mulder shouldn't be able to visit us again. In fact, we must insist upon it!" "Insist upon what?" Mulder's rich baritone interrupted. Scully and Gunther both twisted around to watch him as he entered the room, the door sliding shut behind him. He came up beside Scully, perching himself on the edge of her chair. His arm curled around her shoulders, and she nestled against him, welcoming with silent waves of affection. A tender smile curved his mouth as he looked down at her, then focused his gaze on the Professor, waiting for an answer to his question. "You and Scully must come back to visit us here again," Gunther replied bluntly. Mulder lifted his chin, surprised, then his expression sombered. He angled his head to meet Scully's eyes. "Yes, love," she told him gently. "We have to leave the day after tomorrow. At dawn." The firelight gleamed on the gold of her Companion ring as she closed her hand over his arm. //I'm sorry it's so soon.\\ //Me, too,\\ he sent softly. Turning back to Gunther, he sought confirmation. The Professor nodded briskly. "I'm afraid so. According to my calculations, if we don't send you back by then, you'll lose at least another month, perhaps a full year in the other world. I know that sounds strange, but the time-space relationship is not linear. It has..." Gunther frowned trying to find an appropriate analogy. "It has bubbles in it," he finished unsatisfactorily. Mulder and Scully exchanged an amused glance, then Mulder shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. Does anyone else know yet?" Gunther shook his head. "No. I only discovered it by accident." He chuckled. "Literally by accident -- I knocked some of my papers onto the floor. When I went to pick them up, something caught my eye and...well, I tend to get caught up in these things." Scully laughed. "You're not the only one with that tendency." She smiled affectionately at her bondmate. He faked a scowl at her, then grinned. //I do not!\\ //Do too!\\ she retorted, her thought sweeping his mind like a hand ruffling his hair. //Regardless, we're going to have to get ready quickly.\\ Mulder sobered quickly. "Yeah well, tomorrow is soon enough. Why don't you let us inform everyone, Gunther. I'll talk to Reinald in the morning." Gunther smiled, the expression stumbling into a loud yawn. "Perhaps you're right, Mulder. The morning is soon enough to work out the details," he said with a sheepish expression. "Come find me when you're ready. I should be in my workroom most of the day. Hannu and Livirnea will be working with me as well." He put down his teacup and stood up. Scully and Mulder got up as well, walking with him towards the door. "That sounds fine," Scully said. "See you tomorrow; and sleep well." "Oh yes, you too my dears. Good night." "Good night," Mulder echoed, holding open the heavy wooden door for the aged scientist. Gunther nodded to them both, then walked on down the hall. Once the door had closed behind him, Mulder turned and swiftly swept Scully up in his arms. She sighed with pleasure as he enveloped her. //How did your walk go?\\ she asked gently. He responded with a flood of emotion, sadness, joy, and acceptance all intertwined. //It's hard to let go, Scully. And it's not just that she reminds me so much of Samantha. Or what Samantha could have been like at her age.\\ He couldn't keep the bitter edge out of his thoughts, and it pierced Scully's heart like the twist of a knife. Her arms tightened around his waist, her mind offering him unconditional love and understanding. He leaned against her, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head. //I love Shannon for herself. And it's hard to give her up. At first I was afraid of being responsible for her, but now -- I'm really going to miss her, Scully.\\ //I know, Mulder.\\ She tilted her head so that she could look up into his eyes, the damp tangle of her hair cascading over his hand and arm as he cradled her neck. //But children grow up and have to go their own way. That doesn't mean she'll stop caring about you, she's just found the place she wants to be. The place where she belongs.\\ Mulder leaned down another inch to brush her forehead with his lips. //And I can't stay here.\\ //No. WE can't stay here,\\ she reminded him tenderly. He suddenly chuckled, squeezed her tightly, then disentangled himself from her long enough to take her hand and lead her towards the bed. Turning quickly, he lifted her up to sit on the mattress. She closed her hands over his arms and drew him close, savoring the change in position which placed their faces on an even level. They moved close enough to taste each other's breath, their minds linked more closely than their bodies. //Time for us to go home.\\ The thought emanated from both of them, simultaneously, and despite the flavor of sadness at saying goodbye to their loved ones here, a sharp pang of longing began to grow in them both. //We'll have to go back to pretending not to be a couple,\\ Scully mind-spoke wryly. //Skinner will probably chew us out over that fiasco in Boston,\\ added Mulder dryly. //No more magic.\\ //No more swordfighting.\\ //No more Black Mages out to get us.\\ //No more endless days on horseback.\\ //No more...\\ They both laughed, the sound trickling off as they kissed sweetly. Mulder nuzzled her cheek, breathing in the clean, flowery scent of her. //It doesn't matter where we are,\\ he thought, his love flowing like a river across her senses. //As long as you're with me.\\ //Always,\\ was the only response she had time to verbalize before he was sweeping her up into a passionate embrace. They lost themselves in each other, savoring the time together, here in this place that would always be so special to them, storing up memories for more difficult times ahead. Sharing a love that would conquer whatever demons life threw in their path, in this world and the next. - - - - - Approaching Reinald's quarters through the sun-dappled stone corridor, Mulder felt the tell-tale tingle on his skin long before he heard the chanting through the door. He waited until the flow of Old Realm had stopped and then knocked. At Reinald's call, he entered. Before him, Tarnor and the Royal Mage stood in their cloaks, surveying the parchment on the table in front of them. "Does Sirisa know that you two are up to magic again?" Reinald looked hurt, but Mulder had used the same tactic too often to be taken in. "It's with her blessing, Mulder. I'm surprised you would think anything else." "I'm not sure throwing up her hands and leaving in disgust precisely constitutes a 'blessing'," Tarnor countered dryly. Mulder chuckled. "Reinald was his usual bad patient again? What're you working on?" "Hannu wrote out a few of the spells to the Lost Powers. We just thought we'd start practicing so when we're at full strength again, we won't be rusty. But come, sit by the fire. We were about to take a rest anyway. Pitir?" "Tea will be ready in a moment, Royal Mage." "At least try not to practice the earthquake spell," Mulder said, lowering himself into one of the armchairs. "There's been enough damage around here already." "He neglected to write that one down for us, actually," replied Tarnor, looking comically disappointed. He accepted a mug from Pitir. "Well, I just came to tell you - Scully and I are leaving tomorrow morning." "What? So soon?" The Royal Mage looked stricken. Mulder laughed. "We've been here a long time, Reinald. Maybe it's only been a couple of weeks in my world, but we've been here close to a season-cycle in Realm-time." "This is so hard," said Tarnor, his ears drooping dejectedly. "And even though it's the second time we've had to say goodbye to you, it doesn't get any easier. Are you sure you have to go?" "I'm sure," he smiled. "Scully misses her family and we both have jobs to go back to." "Well, I'm glad you got a chance to see more of the Realm this visit - especially my village and my family. I sometimes think that they thought I was making you up. We haven't had much of a chance to talk about your trip, there's been so much going on." "I know. It seems like we always leave with so much unsaid," responded Mulder regretfully. "But at least one problem is out of your lives. And Andalor's happy at last. You won't regret his choice, Reinald, I promise you. Shannon's going to make a wonderful queen, and I think Andalor will do a better job as king if he's happy." "I'm sure you're correct, my boy. Please understand, I had nothing against Shannon all along." He sighed. "We get so mired here in our traditions that it sometimes obscures what makes sense." "I doubt that this is the last time Andalor's going to challenge those traditions, Reinald. You'd better brace yourself. I think you can expect that his brief exposure to my world has altered his thinking and may effect some of his decisions. Just trust him. I know he has the Realm's interests at heart. After all, he was ready to throw away his happiness because of it." Reinald nodded. "Quite right, Mulder. Oh, there's something you should know. We've been speaking with Lita. She has seen startling changes in Shannon's aura. When we had the aura-reading dictated by our rituals the day before the betrothal ceremony, she noticed how Shannon's aura now has much more Mage-blue in it, a really dramatic change from her first reading when she arrived in the Realm. Lita is unable to account for it, but feels that Shannon should start formal Mage-training." "Not that she's likely to ever practice magic frequently," continued Tarnor, "but she must learn to control the natural ability she has." "I don't envy any of you," Mulder smiled, remembering his own rough initiation. "But she couldn't have better teachers. With the two of you plus Hannu to teach her and bear the brunt of her beginner's mistakes, she'll do fine." "Do you know what I find unbelievably ironic about all this?" Tarnor mused. "The Black Mage wanted to re-establish a dynasty of Mage-royalty over the Realm. In the next generation, it looks like there may be such a dynasty - but of Blue Mage-kings and queens rather than black." Mulder thought about it. If Shannon's children carried her gift, there could indeed be such a dynasty. And if they carried Andalor's eidetic memory as well, they would be truly formidable. But what was he thinking? Shannon's children? Why, she was barely more than a child herself! Then he corrected himself. No. A young woman, who all too shortly would be married to the king, with an expectant kingdom waiting for heirs. He found the thought disconcerting. "Time will tell," he murmured. - - - - - Outside the stone cottage, Jourdain was stripped to the waist, the muscles of his arms and chest bulging as he vigorously sawed an enormous beam. "You look busy." Scully smiled, her auburn hair glinting in the warm sunlight. "Ah, Warrior-Healer Scully! I didn't hear you approach. Yes, I'm afraid our little house was damaged by the Mage-attack, like so many others." He pointed to the wall that was once part of their bedroom, now a heap of stone and twisted lumber. "We've moved into the main living area for the time being." "I'm so sorry, Jourdain. I had no idea your home was damaged so badly." He shrugged. "Oh, it won't take long to repair it. Aldara always wanted a bigger window in the bedroom, anyway. I'll put it in for her when I put up the new wall. She nodded. "Is she in?" "Of course, go right in. She'll be glad of your company." He leaned toward her and his voice dropped to a gruff whisper. "And so will I, to tell the truth. She was in the midst of trying to prepare something 'new and special' for supper." He pretended to shudder. Scully laughed. "I'll see what I can do to prevent that." "I would be extremely grateful," he said earnestly. She laughed again and pushed open the door. At first she was startled, thinking her friend ill. Then she realized that Aldara's pallor was caused by a liberal coating of flour on her face, hair and clothing. "What in the world are you making?" Aldara looked up, a bemused expression on her face. "Jhorgab's coming to dinner tonight and I thought I'd make him something special. It's supposed to be a troll dish - some sort of meat pie. But...I don't know, it doesn't look quite right to me." Scully surveyed the gray, bubbling mass of dough-like substance that seemed to have taken on a life of its own in the big pottery bowl. Occasionally a bubble would burst with a soft poofing sound and the mass would move and settle. "I think you'd better let Lita take a shot at it. This looks...a bit...complicated." "I suppose you're right. Well, sit and have some tea. I can usually make that safely." Soon the mess had been cleared away and they both sat at the table over steaming mugs of fragrant tea. "I wanted to tell you before you heard it from anyone else," Scully said. "Mulder and I are leaving in the morning." "Leaving? For where?" "Back to our world." "What? But why?" "We have to get back before our vacation time is over in our world. According to Gunther, we have to leave by dawn tomorrow or risk arriving back very late indeed." "Would that be so bad?" "Aldara, you've met Skinner! You tell me." She giggled. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I've gotten so used to your being here, it seems like this is your home. I forget that it isn't. Goddess, I'm going to miss you." "And I'm going to miss you, and everyone else. And just being here. It seems like home to me, too, in a lot of ways." Scully sighed, then shook off the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. "Have I missed any news?" Aldara always knew what was going on everywhere, getting much of her information from the chatty Lita. Aldara glowed. "Well, Daanna is doing wonderfully. I don't know, ever since the Black Mage's defeat, it's like she's a normal little girl again. No foretelling dreams, no nightmares, no drifting off into space and muttering to herself. I have my little girl back, Dana." "That's wonderful," Scully said warmly. "But you need to listen to her when she does have them again, because I think she will. The child has a gift, Dara. Don't be afraid of it. Without the information from her foretelling dreams and her help in fighting the Black Mage, things might have turned out very differently." "I know. It's just something I'm going to have to get used to. She's seeing a lot of Hannu - I think she fascinates him. Maybe he can help me come to terms with this. Now let's see, what else? Oh! Kyla is doing much better." "Oh, I'm glad to hear that." "Yes, it seems like she too began to improve by leaps and bounds the moment the Black Mage had been dealt with. She's now up and around and Sirisa even told her that she may go back to healing within the moon-cycle." "That's great news. I'm sure Sirisa will be glad of the help." Aldara nodded, looking grim. "We lost so many. First in the bloodshed and the storms, then in the Mage-attack. Realm- wide, I hate to even think of how many died, especially in those areas just recovering after the War with the Dark Creatures." She shook her head. "We had a report from Bashar in Waterrush with the troops. He said it's as if everyone is coming out of a terrible trance, horrified by what they find on awakening. But, thank the Goddess, everyone is starting to band together to rebuild. There seems to be no bad feelings or thoughts of revenge between the species. They seem to understand that things went out of control through no fault of their own." She paused. "Once again, we have so much to thank you and Mulder for. I can only imagine the nightmare it could have been if the Black Mage hadn't been defeated." Scully shook her head dismissively. "Just like in the War with the Dark Creatures, everyone did their part, Aldara. Besides, the Realm is our second home now - we had as much to lose as anyone." The half-Elf gave her friend a twisted smile. "So you're really leaving." "We'll be back, Aldara. I promise." - - - - - Hand in hand, the bondmates climbed the last flight of worn stone steps to the top floor of the castle, deftly avoiding the chunks of stonework that had fallen in the Mage-attack. The stones of their Companion rings glowed softly in the dim light of the staircase. They had searched most of the keep, looking for their friends. The Professor's workroom was the last place they had to check. Instead of the whir and whine of the Professor's infernal machines, the sound of conversation and laughter issued from behind the half-open door. "Should we be insulted that we weren't invited to this party?" Mulder joked. The Professor looked up, a welcoming smile creasing his weathered face. "Mulder, Scully! How wonderful! Please come in." Shannon, Livirnea and Andalor were engaged in a lively discussion, appearing no different from teenagers in Mulder's world. They welcomed the bondmates, and Andalor formally introduced them to Livirnea, whom Mulder and Scully had not had a chance to speak to in the busy days since their return. They found her charming and almost frighteningly intelligent. She was a good match for the Professor, someone who would keep him youthful as he imparted his knowledge to the young protege. They inquired after the health of her father, relieved to learn he had reached home safely and was making a little progress. Jhorgab was chattering to Gunther and Hannu, who seemed to delight in his non-stop babble. Hannu seemed years younger than when they had first met him in the mysterious village of Montveil. His hair and beard had been neatly trimmed and his amber eyes sparkled. Having a daughter, someone to love him who was a part of someone he had loved obviously agreed with him. The stimulation of the Professor and the other Mages no doubt contributed as well. "I'm glad you're all here. Mulder and I wanted to let you know. We're returning to our world tomorrow." There were outcries of protest from everyone in the room, except of course for Gunther, who knew the purpose of their visit. "But things are finally settling down," Shannon protested. "You could have a real vacation now!" Mulder regarded the girl warmly. "I know, Shannon. But we have to get back to work." "It's so hard being a part of two worlds," Scully observed. "Wherever you are, you always miss something about the other. But we've been here for quite a while in Realm-time, and it's time for us to go back." "And at least we're leaving here knowing everything has worked out," added Mulder, smiling at the betrothed couple. Then he turned to the troll. "What are your plans, Jhorgab?" "I'm so very glad and flattered that you should inquire, Mage Mulder. I believe I will stay here in Fairwoods for a while, among my new friends. There's so much to see and do!" "And to eat," Mulder teased. The little troll looked sheepish, "Well, I must admit I have been treated most kindly by the beings here, most generously, if I may say so. And there is enough work that I may do, at least until my uncle's caravan returns in the autumn." "And possibly beyond that," Andalor said. "I have a couple of ideas that may appeal to you, when we can get together to talk." The troll's heavy eyebrows lifted in surprise and pleasure. "Truly, Your Majesty?" "Truly," Andalor smiled. Then his gaze turned to the bondmates. "I don't know what we would have done without you. The Realm already owes you so much, and now that debt has doubled. You will always have a home here at the castle, please remember that." Scully smiled, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you Andalor. We're going to miss all of you so much." "But, they'll be back," Hannu announced firmly. "Gunther, Livirnea, the Mages and I will all be working on a way to come and go between worlds safely. We have already made several discoveries that will make it easier. Who knows, perhaps someday I will return to your world for a visit." "That would be great," Mulder grinned. "And you might think of bringing your daughter with you," he added hopefully. Hannu looked at him with perfect understanding; respect and gratitude shone from the honey-colored eyes. "That I will, Mage Mulder." "Just let him try to go there without me," Shannon declared. "So what time do you leave?" "Tomorrow morning at dawn. We're not in charge of the timing, Gunther is. And if we miss our window of opportunity, Scully and I will be looking for new jobs. We're both kind of attached to the ones we have. Do you think you might join us to say goodbye?" he asked Shannon. The teenager rose and walked over to the tall Mage and hugged him tightly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." - - - - - The sun rose in a shimmer of gold, gleaming fingers of light filtering through the leaves and warming the night-chilled stone of the courtyard. The air was crisp with the dawn, dew pooling in the cracks and beading on the flowers. Mulder and Scully were ready early, and they waited patiently for the Professor, Hannu and Reinald to join them. Most of their farewells had been said the night before at an impromptu party that had gone on until very late. There, memories were exchanged and promises made. Then the time for giving gifts arrived. Each presented a memento to the touched bondmates. Reinald had solemnly given Mulder a small pouch of freshly enhanced crystals, so that they could maintain communication with the Realm. Shannon and Andalor approached with a large wrapped package. "With our love," they said. Unwrapping it, Mulder found an exquisitely carved wooden shield depicting Andalor's family's coat of arms. One corner was slightly chipped and splintered. "For generations it has hung in the Great Hall," Andalor explained. "It came down during the Black Mage's attack. We thought you might like it as a keepsake." "We'll treasure it always," Scully replied warmly. One by one, their friends lay their offerings before them, the mementos prompting both laughter and tears. It would have been impossibly poignant but for the fact that this time they knew they could find their way back. That assurance made the parting just a bit easier. Sword and bag slung over his shoulder, Mulder stayed close beside Scully. Her peach-complexioned face was serene, but he could feel the stirrings of her emotions. He felt as she did, excitement and relief to be returning home, sadness and loss at leaving his friends and loved ones behind. She turned to look up into his eyes, a warm, glinting swirl of earth brown and emerald green. He smiled, and reached out to close his hand upon hers. Their rings sparked with the contact, then settled, the Companion spell quiescent beneath their control. //I'm going to miss it here,\\ Scully thought yet again. Mulder agreed silently, twining his fingers with hers, enjoying the feel of her skin next to his as she took hold of him. They paused to take a sweeping look around, freeze-framing the memory for the days to come, then turned as one at the sound of footsteps behind them. Hannu and Gunther arrived first, Reinald and Tarnor close behind. Shannon nudged her way between the Mages, Jhorgab at her heels, Andalor and Livirnea following more sedately. Jourdain and Aldara came from the other direction, Daanna nestled in her father's broad arms. "We all wanted to come see you off," Shannon announced, stepping up in front of Mulder. He smiled softly, wistfully, down at her, and her restraint broke. "Oh, I'm going to miss you so much, Mulder!!" she cried, leaping up to grab him in a fierce hug. His sword and shoulderbag clunked to the ground, but he ignored them, lifting her off her feet as he returned her embrace. When he released Shannon, she turned and hugged Scully, tears glistening in all of their eyes. Mulder turned to Hannu standing quietly aside, and offered his hand. "Take good care of her!" Mulder demanded hoarsely. Hannu nodded solemnly, shaking Mulder's hand firmly. "I will do everything I can to see her happy." "Thank you," Mulder replied, then he released Hannu and turned to Reinald. As they grasped each other's shoulders, everyone crowded in, resulting in a flurry of hugs and well-wishes. Most of it had been said the previous day, but it was difficult to let the beloved pair go without saying good-bye and good-luck one last time. Finally, the Professor gazed sadly up at the sun and firmly declared it was time to go. Mulder and Scully nodded and stooped to pick up their bags and swords. Then with the group, they left the confines of the courtyard to stroll to the meadow beyond. Gunther and Hannu carried surprisingly little in the way of equipment and wires. They set their materials down a few paces away and bent over them, making connections. "Is that all?" asked Mulder doubtfully. "Well, I did say we had made some improvements," responded Hannu with a grin. "Plus, with three Mages to invoke the spell, it cuts down on the equipment. Are you ready?" They sighed and Mulder gripped Scully's hand. "Yes. Send us back." Reinald, Tarnor and Hannu formed a semicircle to one side of the equipment, Mulder and Scully a few meters away on the other. There was a crackle and a hum from the wires. Then they all closed their eyes and the familiar Old Realm chanting began. A wind rose up around Mulder and Scully, obscuring them from view. The chant rose higher, then broke off into the whine of the wind. There was a brilliant flash of light, forcing all of the watchers to shield their eyes. When they lowered their hands, the air was still again - still and empty. Mulder and Scully were gone. End Chapter Twenty-Four THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Epilogue He didn't understand it. Anyone else ordered to take a vacation would have gone off to Florida or Hawaii and laid on the beach. Or gone to Colorado and broken a leg skiing. But not Mulder and Scully. No way. That would be far too normal. FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner frowned as he peered over the top of his spectacles at the recalcitrant pair of agents. Scully appeared as cool and collected as ever, not a single auburn strand of hair out of place. She had apparently put on a bit of weight, but it looked extremely healthy - like she'd built up some muscle. Mulder, too, looked even more athletic than usual and it appeared that he had cut his hair recently. His skin was extremely well-tanned, but his choice in ties was unusually bad even for him. Skinner squinted unhappily at it, then stifled a sigh of frustration. In his best Marine sergeant voice, Skinner demanded to know what on earth they had been up to. Mulder's mobile features immediately settled into boyish earnestness, while Scully's eyes barely flickered. "We went on vacation, sir, as you ordered," Mulder replied. Skinner simply LOOKED at him for a moment, then slowly drawled his reply. "And does your vacation usually include searching for runaway teenagers, misleading government employees, exploding government facilities, and generally wreaking havoc on downtown Boston?" Mulder winced, exchanged a quick glance with Scully. She met her boss's eyes firmly and answered smoothly. "Sir, I assure you we had nothing to do with any exploding buildings, and as for the rest of it, well... it's something of a long story, but we didn't mean to cause any harm. A friend of mine came to me for help when her brother ran away from home, and we assisted her in finding him." Skinner stared unblinkingly at her, then slowly dipped his eyes to consult the file before him. "That would be 'Aldara' and the boy, Andalor?" Scully nodded. "Yes, sir." "According to the Boston office, you..." Skinner fixed Mulder with a cool stare, "told the agents that he was part of the witness protection program. This, however, is not true." Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner silenced him with a wave of his hand. Mulder clamped his jaw shut, swallowed, and looked thoughtful for a moment. Again, Skinner got the sense that something was passing between his two agents that he couldn't penetrate - a communication that was no less powerful for all its silent nature. Scully tilted her head slightly to the side, and Mulder looked back up to meet Skinner's eyes. "We only said that to protect the boy and his family." "How so?" Skinner demanded. "Well, the truth is that Andalor was in the country illegally," Mulder replied. Skinner shifted in his chair, surprise flashing across his usually unemotive features. He waved a hand for the agent to continue. "Andalor was secretly brought into the states several years ago. He's the last male heir of the royal family of a tiny country that was swallowed up by the Soviet Union." Before Skinner could speak, Mulder held up his hand, shaking his head. "Don't ask, I don't know myself. Anyway, Andalor's sister, Aldara, met Scully at a woman's self-defense class and they became friends. So when Andalor ran away from home, she went to Scully for help. She asked us to keep this very quiet, so we made up the story about the witness protection program." Skinner narrowed his eyes, studying both agents suspiciously. "And where are they now?" "Gone back to their country, sir. It's finally safe for them to return." Scully answered quickly. Mulder nodded agreement. Skinner frowned again. "So I take it that there's no way to contact them and verify your story?" "I'm afraid not," Mulder said with faint amusement. "And what about the missing girl...Shannon...?" There was another rapid-fire, unspoken consultation between the two agents, then Scully replied softly. "She went with Andalor." "She did what?" Skinner barked. "Well, she and Andalor became very fond of each other and since she didn't have anywhere else to go, we figured she was better off staying with his family. She'd only have ended up in a foster home anyway," Mulder explained. Skinner sighed, leaning back in his chair. He didn't believe a word of this, but then, he often had a hard time believing most of the escapades these two got into. "And what about the damage to....five parked cars, one fire hydrant, two street lamps, and a street vendor's stand?" The A.D. asked, suddenly weary of the whole mess. Mulder grimaced. "I'll take care of it, sir. I shouldn't have let Aldara try to drive. She doesn't know how." "Indeed." Skinner replied coldly. The room fell silent for a brief moment, then Skinner tapped a pen against the desk. Gazing almost sadly at them both, he sighed. "Do you two get pleasure out of creating chaos everywhere you go? Do you have any idea how much trouble you've created in the past two weeks? As if the OPR inquest and Grinman's complaints weren't bad enough, you had to send half the city of Boston into an uproar - when you were *supposed* to be on vacation!! Then you both disappear, apparently off the face of the earth, along with a teenage girl whose mother just died under mysterious circumstances." Both agents were staring at him as his voice began to rise, and he snapped his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he stared at them for a moment, then gave up. Mulder's jaw was set in defiance and Scully's face held the same bland look she'd displayed that time she'd lied to protect Mulder against Tooms' accusations. Skinner had known full well those accusations were a crock of shit, but he had almost been forced to act on them anyway. The only question now was - what were they hiding? However, from the looks in both of their eyes, he was not going to get a clear answer. Sighing, he decided to give it up - for now. But at the same time, he promised himself that this was the last time he insisted they take a vacation. At least if they were at work, he had some control over the messes they got into. "All right, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully" he said, switching gears swiftly. "Since the OPR inquest on the matter of the Pittsburgh Rapist has acquitted you both of any misconduct, and your vacation time is over, you will both return immediately to work." Selecting a thick manila folder from the top of a pile on his desk, he handed it out to Scully, who swiftly came forward to receive it. "Here's your new case, get on it right away. And please - do us all a favor and at least attempt to stay out of further trouble." Skinner gritted his teeth at the slight edge of a whine in his voice. Damn them, they always did manage to get under his skin. "Yes, sir!" Scully replied, obviously delighted to have the meeting over. Mulder nodded, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, shiny object. He held it out towards Skinner, a mischievous grin curling the corners of his mouth. "Before I forget, sir, we got you a gift on our trip." Skinner stared at Mulder in shock, then looked down at the object in question. Reaching out, he took the gold hilt in his hand, abruptly recognizing it as a small, ornately decorated dagger. His eyes widened as he looked from it to Mulder, who was still grinning boyishly, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hhrrmmm," Skinner growled. "I...uh...appreciate the thought, Agent Mulder. Thank you." "You're welcome, sir!" Mulder crowed, then sliding a hand across the small of Scully's back, he guided her from the room. The door closed firmly behind them leaving Skinner still gazing at the small knife in his hand. Sliding it from its strangely-tooled leather sheath, he realized with sudden shock that the handle had to be plated with gold. The blade itself appeared to be something like wrought iron, and the hilt was studded with a pair of bright, winking jewels, tiny rubies by the look of them. It appeared to be ancient and was probably extremely valuable, unless he missed his guess. Skinner's mouth pursed, his eyes wide behind his glasses. How could they have afforded this... ...and where on *earth* could they have gotten it from? The End THE MAGICIAN IV - THE WARRIOR PRIEST by Suzanne Bickerstaffe, with Jennifer Lyon (ecksphile@earthlink.net, Jenni10647@aol.com) October, 1998 Acknowledgements and disclaimers Thanks to the many fans of the Realm who have been begging for another chance to visit there. This book is a bit different from the three Magician stories that preceded it. First, Jenni chose this time to contribute mostly in the form of editing, so for the most part the writing was done alone (which made me appreciate my former writing partner all the more - it's hard writing this solo!) Secondly, most of the book is written from a first-person point of view - and not Mulder or Scully's. I think I managed to get inside my narrator's head pretty well, but you'll have to judge that for yourself. But it was great fun exploring this character who we see far too little of. I filled in several blanks in his life. I apologize in advance if I haven't filled them in quite as anyone else envisioned. I would like to thank Jennifer Lyon, for what she wrote and for editing, and most especially for the marvelous idea for the original book and inviting me to be a part of it all. The Realm is now as real to me as it is to many of you. I would also like to thank Melody Lanier for reading it over and making lots of wonderful suggestions. This book is dedicated to the most loyal and patient fanfic fans in the world. People like Todd, and Suzanne from Sweden, and Roy and many others - your patience has at last been rewarded. You honor us with your loyalty to the Realm and its beings. DISCLAIMER : The XFiles and the characters of Mulder, Scully and Skinner belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and Fox Television. They were used without permission, but treated gently. The plot, the Realm and all other characters belong to Jenni and myself. No profit is being made from this story (although, what do you think about Realm Action Figures ?). CATEGORY: Fantasy/Adventure RATING: For the most part, PG-13ish, with a lovely R-rated (or NC-17, for the more sensitive) Chapter Nineteen. ARCHIVE: To Gossamer, yes please. Anywhere else, please ask for permission, which will undoubtedly be given. SPOILERS: None, really. This is an alternate universe, with no cancer, no Emily, no burned-out office, no Spender. It will undoubtedly make more sense, though, if you've read the first three Magician books. SUMMARY: Scully and Mulder go back to the Realm for the birth of Shannon and Andalor's first child. But the unexpected happens - first, someone enters the Realm accidently in their wake, then a terrible crime occurs, sending the pair and their ally on a mission against evil. Chapter One The only sounds were the sputtering buzz of the laboring dehumidifier and the steady rhythm of two pairs of lungs drawing breath. The air smelled of mildew - damp, heavy. But the crowded basement office was a visual feast, a study in contrasts, a battle between chaos and order. One side of the room displayed neat shelves of medical tomes and primly bound copies of The Lancet, JAMA, Scientific American and Psychology Today, cataloged alphabetically and chronologically. A spray of flowers, bought on a whim, was artlessly arranged in an Erlenmeyer flask on the desk, bringing a welcomed touch of color to the gunmetal gray of the furniture. The only other object of color - on the wall opposite - was a beautiful tapestry, the hues unnaturally brilliant and figures oddly three-dimensional. Two neat stacks of files stood ready on the immaculate desk blotter, and a pad of Post-It notes and a pen lay thoughtfully by the phone. In the midst of this neatness and almost obsessive order, the blue screen of an idle monitor stared out as if offended by the disarray on the opposite side of the room. Specimen jars with grisly and questionable contents warred for shelf space with Elvis souvenirs from Nashville. In an orgy of unconventional print, layers of Omni magazines, MUFON newsletters and back issues of The Lone Gunman lay scattered on file cabinets and tables, threatening to spill to the floor with the slightest wisp of air. A slide projector gathered dust, its screen, half-furled, standing nearby. Sitting atop the VCR, a tower of videotapes was as stable as a house of cards. Garish posters and gruesome photographs stared down from the walls. The desk - the desk did not invite description. And amid the clutter, within the oasis of order, the silent argument went on. //Mulder, be real!\\ //Three hikers found in the forests of the Cascade Mountain range, Scully, lost for four days.... Claiming to have seen an alien spacecraft first hover and then land in a clearing-\\ //But that's just the point! They had been lost. When they finally staggered back into civilization, they were dehydrated, disoriented and feverish. They could have been delirious, maybe hallucinating.\\ He got up and paced, his arms gesticulating as mimelike, he countered, //Then how do you explain their descriptions? The fact that their watches stopped. That their compasses went crazy. The first degree burns on one side of their faces only.... Which they claimed they got at night, I might add.\\ The auburn haired woman rolled her eyes expressively. //I know what they 'claimed', Mulder. But those descriptions aren't anything that haven't been written a thousand times in science fiction and in accounts of other alleged alien visitations - right down to the saucer shape of the craft and the little green men that jumped out of it! And they *did* say green.\\ He grimaced in recognition of the point she had scored, but he was not about to let it be won cheaply. //Hey, maybe they *were* green. Or... or... maybe they didn't see the color all that clearly.\\ //Okay.... Then what about the traces of cannabis in their systems?\\ Mulder stopped pacing and turned to her, startled out of mindspeak. "Cannabis? They were stoned?" She grinned impudently up at him. "Sorry partner, the tox report came in an hour ago. The screen showed traces of THC, enough to prove that at some time from eight to sixteen hours before they were found, they were very seriously stoned, indeed." "Which would cover the time they claim to have seen the alien spacecraft." " 'Fraid so." "That doesn't mean they didn't see it," he persisted half- heartedly. "No," she grudgingly agreed. "But it does mean that they were under the influence of drugs at the critical time, so - " " -so nothing they say can be used as evidence of alien visitation. Shit!" He threw himself in his chair and assumed a comfortable slouch. "I was really hoping with this one...." //I know, love.\\ A wave of amused sympathy came from her as she pushed herself to her feet and strolled over to her partner, her lover, her bondmate. Hastily, she smothered a yelp as he pulled her into his lap. //I think I'm due a little consolation, don't you think?\\ His lips pressed hers, his tongue playfully stroking them. His arms came up around her and pulled her close. //Mulder! We're in the office!\\ //I'm aware of that. But while you were wasting your time at lunch, I stayed here and did the weekly bug sweep. We're clean. So,\\ he smiled mischievously, //we can carry on with impugnity.\\ //And what if Skinner walks down here?\\ He chuckled out loud. "Scully, to my knowledge he's been in this office exactly twice in the past four years. Why the hell would he pick this moment to walk in on us?" "Maybe he's telepathic. You have to admit, his timing for finding us when we don't want to be found is too uncanny to be explained any other way." Her partner seemed to give this idea serious consideration for several moments - until he heard the tinkle of laughter from her mind. He shrugged. "Hey, think about it - it could explain a lot. And we've certainly seen stranger things." His expression changed as a thought occurred to him. "Wait a minute... Scully, if the tox screen results came back an hour ago, how come we just spent the last forty-five minutes arguing about this case?" She grinned and shrugged. //They say an occasional argument is good for a relationship. Besides, I like debating with you. I find it very... stimulating.\\ Their lips met, and they were involved in a thorough exploration of each other's mouths when they became aware of a growing discomfort. Finally, they sprang apart. "Is it getting awfully warm in here, or is it just me?" Mulder muttered, absently rubbing his chest. "Mulder - the crystal!" Impatiently he flicked his tie back over his shoulder and unfastened the top buttons of his shirt. With a triumphant cry, he pulled out the crystal that now glowed with a blue-white light as it hung from its fine gold chain. In seconds, the swirling, dancing light of the crystal coalesced into the image of a familiar and much-loved figure. "Reinald! It's good to see you again. We weren't expecting to hear from you quite so soon.... Wait! There's nothing the matter with Shannon, is there?" "She is well. But she is the reason I'm contacting you," he admitted. Scully cut in. "Is there anything wrong, Reinald?" The old Mage had contacted them only the week before to announce that Shannon and Andalor were to have a child. The bondmates' initial joy had given way to Mulder's fretting over Shannon's condition. He had spent most of his leisure time since then pouring over Scully's medical books and working himself into a lather of anxiety, dwelling on anything and everything that could go wrong. His bondmate had finally ordered the medical books off-limits - the waves of worry he was throwing off were giving her a massive headache. It had taken her the better part of a day to reassure him that women had been successfully giving birth for millions of years. But Mulder's closeness with the girl and his attendant fears for her health and safety had left lingering doubts. The message came through their bond loud and clear - other 'women' were not his Shannon, the troubled orphan he had taken under his wing, the girl that reminded him so much of his sister Samantha. He had lost everything and everyone he was close to, all his life. Now his fears became Scully's as she sought an answer to why the Mage would be calling. "Her time grows near, Warrior Healer Scully. She asked me to contact you both so that you could be here for the birth." "Al-already?" Mulder croaked. "But you only told us last week that she was pregnant. How could she...?" "Have you already forgotten the Professor's lessons on the gelflow of time, Mulder?" The Mage's kindly eyes twinkled. "In any case, it is traditional for the taabsut of royalty to be present at the birth." "*AT* the birth? B-but, Reinald! I wasn't really her taabsut, that was a fabrication. Just a myth we concocted to give Shannon the protection of family relationship when she first arrived in the Realm." "Of course I am aware of that, dear boy, as are all your friends here. But what matters is what the beings of the Realm believe. I'm afraid our little myth succeeded beyond our wildest expectations. Not only does most of the Realm believe you are her taabsut - her advisor, her guardian - but they also believe you and Hannu to be brothers, since the taabsut is usually related in that manner. I suppose it is only natural - you are not dissimilar in appearance, and with the incredible talents for magic you both have...." Reinald sighed and frowned. "But there remains the expectation for you to be present. "In other words, if we don't observe all the traditions surrounding the birth of the heir very strictly, it will invite speculation. I would prefer not to have to confess to the deception at this point. As you know, there are always those who will take advantage of such a situation, to their own ends. I know the notice is short, but I wouldn't ask if it were not really quite important that you be here for your part of the Ritual of Royal Birth." Mulder wasn't shielding, so it wasn't difficult for Scully to diagnose the source of his hesitation. The idea of witnessing any birth was enough to make him uneasy - very uneasy. But to be with Shannon, to see her in pain and not be able to do anything, to have so much taking place, events beyond his control.... //It will be fine, my love. *You* will be fine.\\ Scully sent waves of reassurance his way, felt them absorbed like raindrops in a desert. //But Scully, what if it isn't? What if I screw up, and Shannon is harmed by it? What if -\\ //Enough, Mulder. I'll be there too, you know.\\ Her calm confidence, her assurance washed over him, bathing his mind and bringing it a measure of peace. //Just don't let them hand me the kid,\\ he mindspoke wryly, stroking her cheek. //I'd probably drop it.\\ He gazed down into her eyes, wondering for the hundred thousandth time how he had gotten so lucky. "Mulder? Mulder, are you there? Warrior Healer Scully?" "Sorry, Reinald. Yes, we're here." "I see you are a little disturbed. Don't be, dear boy. Everything is fine, couldn't be better. Oh, and Healer Kyla would like a word with Scully, if that's possible." "Uh... sure. Sure, Reinald." Scully felt rather than saw the reaction from her bondmate, a slight stiffening. She turned questioning eyes from him and looked into the crystal at the pale, serene face of the blond human. "I'm here, Kyla. It's nice to see you again - it's been a long time." She smiled. "Longer for me than for you, according to the Professor. I assume you will be accompanying Mage Mulder to the Realm." The low melodious voice made it more of a statement than a question. With the problem in their bond resolved by Hannu, Mulder and Scully had no difficulty - no physical difficulty - in separating from each other's presence. Nevertheless, they avoided separation as much as they could, both keenly aware that their meaning, their strength, their hearts and souls, lay in being together. "Someone has to keep an eye on him, Kyla. You know how he tends to find trouble," she replied in mock seriousness. "That I do," she smiled back. "With the Goddess's help, this journey will for once be a peaceful and happy one. But I would be glad of your presence. This is the first birth in the Realm of the child of an outworlder and a Realm native. Such an event would be momentous enough, but for that child also to be the Heir to the Throne.... While I do not expect any difficulties, I admit I would rest easier if I knew that you were going to be here, Healer Scully." //Me, too,\\ her bondmate added. "I would be most honored to assist you, Healer Kyla," Scully replied in the more formal speech of her Realm profession. Reinald's face swam into view once more, wreathed in smiles. "Well, it's all settled then! The Professor is ready, so if you will just get yourselves into position, and - " "Wait, Reinald. You mean now? Right this minute?" "Is that a problem, dear boy? The Professor has done the calculations, and it appears that there is about to be - now what did he call it...." "A backwash," the Professor's voice called from out of view. "A backwash in the gelflow of time." The image in the Oracle Cloud swirled again and the Professor's face sharpened into focus. "Mulder! You're looking well, I'm happy to see. Yes, as I was saying, there's about to be a backwash. Just a little one, you understand, but it could make the calculations a bit tricky. Because we're not precisely sure when you have to be here - even in the Realm, that's in the hands of Mother Nature, you know - I'd like to bring you through now. When the backwash starts, it will become very difficult indeed to bring you through with any degree of accuracy as to time and place." "How long will this backwash last, Professor?" asked Scully. "Will it be a problem getting us back to our world?" "Oh, no, no! This is just temporary. But I would hate for you to miss the birth of Shannon and Andalor's child. By the time it will be necessary for you to return to your world, I'll have done the calculations taking into account the backwash's effects. It will take a few Realm days, but it shouldn't be a problem." The Oracle Cloud shimmered again. "So Mulder, will you be joining us?" Reinald peered anxiously at the couple. "Just a moment, Mage, if you please." Mulder turned to his partner. //What do you think, Scully?\\ //I think it's a good thing it's Friday, we won't be missed over the weekend. I just wish we had the time to go home first. This isn't exactly the way I'd dress for a trip through the vortex and arrival in the Realm.\\ She grimaced at her tailored suit and impractical heels. //Not to mention I have all those baby gifts I'd started to amass at home. But if it has to be now or never....\\ Feeling an odd sense of disquiet in her mind, a sense that did not originate with her, she searched his troubled face. //What is it, Mulder?\\ He hesitated. //...Before, when Reinald said everything was just fine.... He's hiding something, Scully. It's harder to tell through the Oracle Cloud, and of course I'm out of practice, but I would swear his aura flickered. Something's wrong, maybe something to do with Shannon. We have to go to the Realm, and the sooner the better.\\ //Are you sure your nerves aren't making you think you see something that isn't there?\\ //No. No, I'm sure. Something's wrong.\\ //All right, love. Then we go now.\\ She smiled reassuringly up into the face of her bondmate, hoping to see the worried, pinched look evaporate. //Let's just hope the Professor can bring us through somewhere close to Fairwoods Keep. I've already walked through the forests of the Realm in high heels, and I can't say I enjoyed the experience,\\ she said, referring to their first, inadvertent trip to the land that was to become such a huge part of their lives. His expression cleared a little. //Not that I don't care about your comfort, Scully, but at the moment I'm a little more concerned about the effects of creating a vortex in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building.\\ //Good God, Mulder, you don't think he's going to do it right here, do you? I can just imagine it tripping every alarm and seismic detector in the place!\\ Mulder picked up the crystal again. "Uh, Professor - we're in an office in the basement of FBI Headquarters. Won't creating a vortex here be a little, well ...noticeable?" "Don't worry about a thing, Mulder. As long as you're alone and out of sight where you are, there shouldn't be a problem. This will be a very small vortex, and extremely short-lived. All you need is a clear space approximately three meters across. Hannu and I have made a few improvements in vortex creation. Oh, not without a few glitches along the way here and there, but it should be safe enough." The bondmates looked at each other warily. //Glitches?\\ //*Should* be safe enough?\\ Mulder shrugged and addressed the crystal once more. "All right, Professor. Give us a minute to tie up some loose ends here. I'll send through a signal when we're ready." "Wonderful, we'll be waiting. But don't be too long. The backwash should occur quite soon now." The dancing lights of the Oracle Cloud flickered and grew dim. Mulder tucked the crystal back inside his shirt and went to the phone, pressing a speed-dial number. "Hi Kim, is he in?.... Okay, in that case could you please give him a message for me? Scully and I were just contacted by a source, and have to go meet him this afternoon. We'd reschedule if we could, but you know how these things are. Time is of the essence. So I'm afraid the reports on the Cascades case will have to wait for Monday.... Oh, that's right, he's going away for a long weekend. All right, they'll have to wait until Tuesday, then.... Thanks, Kim...Yes, you too." He turned to his partner. "I forgot. Skinner's going up to his cabin for a long weekend - he's taking Monday off." Scully frowned. "That's not like him, Mulder. That's not like him at all. I don't think he's taken a day off all year, except when the building is actually closed for a holiday." He looked serious. "I know. He's been looking a little fried lately. Somehow his reamings have just lost that sting they used to have. All kidding aside, I've been concerned that maybe he's burning out. God knows with what goes on around here, he'd be justified in getting a little charred around the edges." He shook his head as if to dismiss the gloomy thoughts, and then a smile lit his features. "But - it's a break for us. It gives us a little leeway getting back from the Realm. And maybe Skinner will be in such a good mood when he gets back from his time off that he won't even ream us for being late with the reports." Scully shot him a 'yeah, right' look and took off her badge. "What are you doing?" She slid her holster off the waistband of her skirt. "We don't have any use for these in the Realm, and we'll only lose them," she replied, slipping the items into her top drawer. "Might as well travel light." "Good point." He followed her actions, stuffing the gun and badge into the already bulging desk drawer with difficulty. He moved to the center of the room, pushing back a table and the projector screen, effectively clearing an area roughly ten feet in diameter. "This should be enough space. Ready?" He smiled as Scully joined him, and looped an arm around her slim waist. The other hand grasped the crystal. He grounded, then focused his energy to send a flash of light through the Oracle Cloud to signal to his friends in the Realm. Then they waited. At first, all they felt was a slight breeze. Then, folders and magazines blew open, their pages rifled by the ever-increasing wind. The air movement, diffuse and undirected at first, gradually tightened around them, but the effects continued to be felt in other parts of the room. Zephyrs caught and tugged at the posters on the walls, stacks of magazines slid to the floor. Documents and forms swirled around their heads, surrounding them in a maelstrom of wind and paper. Scully's hands moved up in a vain attempt to keep her hair from whipping into her eyes. A low hum filled the room, then quickly died. Papers, suddenly released from the violence of the wind, fluttered to the floor like becalmed kites. The bondmates were gone. ~ ~ ~ My head was pounding as I opened the door to the outer office and stopped at Kim's desk. "Any messages for me?" She looked up, cheerful and efficient as always. "Yes, sir." She checked her message pad. "The Director called to invite you to a barbecue at his home on Sunday. I sent your regrets. The Section Chief in VCU called, said it wasn't anything that couldn't wait until Tuesday. And about ten minutes ago, Agent Mulder called. He said he and Agent Scully were going out to meet with a source and they wouldn't be able to deliver the reports on the Cascades case until after the weekend." God damn it! Mulder and paperwork - there was always an excuse. I felt the familiar griping in my gut that usually heralded an ulcer attack. This was just one of the reasons I needed to get away this weekend to my cabin in the mountains of Virginia. Lots of good clean air. Beautiful scenery. Plenty of simple, hard physical work. And a chance to put my mind on hold for a while. None of the bullshit of the Bureau, no phone, no electricity - and no Mulder. Much as I respected him, even liked him, I couldn't help but feel he knew exactly what buttons to push to make me crazy. Maybe that's what comes of having an Oxford-trained psychologist for an employee. "Get him on the phone, Kim. Now," I said through clenched teeth. I strode into my office, slamming the door behind me, and instantly regretted it. I reminded myself to apologize to Kim. God knows she had to take a lot of shit, and none of it her fault. I sat at my desk, locking away folders, tidying the surface. I planned to leave before the Washington traffic had my stomach in an even bigger uproar than Mulder had already managed. God help the son of a bitch if he delayed me- There was a buzz and I picked up the phone. "Yes?" "I'm sorry, sir. I've tried Agent Mulder's office twice and I keep getting a busy signal. Would you like me to run down there and tell him- " "No. Thanks anyway, Kim. He's obviously still there if the line's busy. I'll go down there myself on the way out." I locked my desk and returned the keys to my pocket. Scanning the room on my way out the door, I noticed an ashtray, half full of stubbed-out Morleys. Sighing, I picked it up and dropped the whole thing in the trash. It wouldn't matter. I'd thrown out at least two dozen ashtrays. Another always appeared, and that bastard always refilled it with his stinking cigarettes. Again, my gut cramped painfully. Another great thing about my cabin - no Cancerman. I locked my office on the way out. I really don't know why I bothered - force of habit I guess. God knows anyone with an interest in its contents would get in, key or no key. I sighed again. I really needed this break. My body needed it, my mind yearned for it and my immortal soul - if I still had one - cried out for it. I couldn't remember a time I felt so jaded, so fed up and frustrated. "Kim, I'm just going down to Mulder's office and then I'm out of here. Why don't you take off early, beat the weekend traffic yourself. Take Monday too, if you want." Apologies don't come easily to me. I guess I felt that a day off from me might be a good substitute. Actions speak louder than words, as they say. She smiled and looked sincerely pleased. I don't deserve that woman. "Thank you, sir. Have a good weekend off." "Thanks, Kim. You too." It felt good to be on my way out the door without a briefcase full of work to do at home. The car was already packed with jeans and sweaters, hiking boots and provisions for the weekend. My skin started to itch with longing to be out of my goddamn suit and into something that was more - well... more me, I guess. Just one quick stop - and Christ help Mulder if it wasn't quick.... I got off the elevator at the basement. Nobody but Mulder could have stood it down here. I wondered how Scully put up with it. The hallways had gotten even more claustrophobic, more lined with junk from every office in the building than the last time I had ventured down here. The air smelled musty, with a touch of - ozone? Dismissing the improbable idea from my mind, I knocked on Mulder's door perfunctorily and went in. What the hell - ? What the hell had gone on here? It looked like someone had turned the office upside down in a frantic attempt to find something. Stunned, I picked up the phone from where it lay buzzing on the floor, returned it to the desk, and tried to make sense out of what I was seeing. Mulder's desk - well, his desk was always a disaster, I knew that from comments I had heard Scully make. But even on Scully's, file folders lay open and gutted, their contents scattered all over the room. The projector screen leaned drunkenly against the file cabinets. Magazines and videotapes littered the floor and Mulder's 'I Want to Believe' poster hung precariously by one corner from a single tack in the wall. The place looked like a cyclone had hit it. My head pounded as the muscles in the back of my neck tensed. Cyclone - disaster. And when I thought of disaster, only one name came to mind - Cancerman. Automatically I went to the phone to call Security, then abruptly stopped, my hand resting on the receiver. It's an unfortunate fact of life that when you swim with the sharks, you begin to think like one. You have to, to survive. I decided to do a little investigation on my own before showing my hand. It's the business - it makes you like that. Mulder hadn't cornered the market on paranoia. There was always plenty to go around. I was assuming someone had waited for Mulder and Scully to leave, then went into their office. Could this be a little practical joke from one of Mulder's tormentors in the Bureau? If so, that someone would be out of a job next week. I had just about had it with that crap. Mulder would never say anything, but I could see the hurt for him in Scully's eyes. Scratch one of the partners, and the other bled. My blood chilled as I thought of the Cancerman again. If one of his henchmen had searched the room, they had done a piss-poor job of it. Either that, or they were sending a message that they could do anything they wanted and get away with it. I was shaken by my next thought - had they abducted the two of them, God only knew for what purpose? Heart thudding in my ears, I searched the room. From what I could tell, there were no bloodstains, and I relaxed a bit. If someone had tried to take them, they wouldn't have gone quietly or easily. With Mulder's track record as a poor insurance risk, he wouldn't have gotten out of that room in one piece, so the lack of bloodstains was comforting. The furniture was still roughly where I remembered it should be. No overturned chairs.... Looking at the mess, I began to doubt that a struggle had taken place. But what then? I collapsed into Mulder's chair, my elbows on my knees, holding my pounding head. Then my eyes lighted on the partially opened drawer in front of me, the glint of metal snaring my attention. With difficulty, I pulled the jammed drawer out all the way. There, shoved among papers and cassettes, was Mulder's service weapon and badge. Christ. Had he quit the Bureau? Finally flipped out, trashed his office and walked out, never to return? I vaulted out of the chair and rushed to Scully's desk. There, neatly stashed in the top drawer of her desk were her badge and weapon. Now I was really worried. Had Mulder convinced his partner to leave, too? That just didn't make sense, not from someone like Agent Scully. Or even from Mulder, when I really thought about it. I didn't doubt that the day might come when, sick to death of all the bullshit, either one of them might resign. But like this? Without a word to me? That I couldn't accept. Odd as Mulder was sometimes, that wasn't his style, and it certainly wasn't Scully's. I sat down in Scully's chair and forced myself to think straight. Their presence at the Bureau was vital, as far as I was concerned. If anyone could ferret out that Morley-smoking SOB's agenda, it was those two. They were two of the best agents in the Bureau, and possibly the only ones unencumbered by dreams of taking over my position. God knows neither of them had succumbed to the nauseating brown-nosing that goes on routinely around here. I tried not to think about my personal feelings for them - I had enough to deal with without thinking about the personal loss it would be not to have them to depend on. Much as Mulder could drive me nuts, he was brilliant and he was a man of honor, one of a rapidly dying breed. If there's one attribute I prize above all others, it's honor - adherence to a strict code of ethics, personal integrity. Mulder had it by the carload. And Scully - God, Scully was just about perfect. A little rigid, perhaps. A little too personally involved with her partner, unless I missed my guess. But a hell of an agent, one any Section Chief would kill to have working for him. And with no less integrity than Mulder. I forced my mind away from the desolation of those thoughts and attempted to put my years of training into overdrive. I got up and walked the perimeter of the room, looking for clues, any sign at all that would tell me what had happened here. Absently, I noted a draft on the back of my neck. The training must have taken over with a vengeance, because I was in a crouch with my weapon drawn and aimed toward the door in a heartbeat. But the door remained closed. And there were no windows. The dehumidifier clanked and gasped, but didn't throw any air to speak of. Perhaps a fan.... I got up from my crouch and searched, but could find no fan, could find no source whatsoever for the increasing draft. I stood in the center of the room, trying to figure out where the breeze was coming from. Breeze, hell. It was a wind, swirling around me in an ever-tightening circle. I heard a low hum, and my nose picked up the odor of ozone. As the hum increased, I suddenly felt lightheaded, and felt myself falling, falling.... End of Chapter One Chapter Two I woke up to pain, face-down in grass and deep brown earth. A groan escaped as I rolled over and automatically began to take inventory. My voice worked. I found a few bruises, including a very sore right shin, but nothing seemed seriously damaged. I must have fallen down the hill behind my cabin.... But I didn't remember going to the cabin. Squinting as I rubbed the dirt out of my eyes, I tried to recall what had happened to me. I remembered going to the basement office to make sure Mulder and Scully turned in their paperwork on time, and finding them gone and the office trashed. Then there was a wind, and a noise... a flash of light... falling.... But how on earth did I end up here? Where the hell *was* here? Pushing myself to my feet, I ignored the pounding ache in my head and tried to focus on my surroundings. I was in an incredibly peaceful woodland glade, with sunlight gleaming down through a canopy of green and blue lea-.... Green and *blue* leaves? I shook my head, blinked hard, and looked again. I reached up to take off my glasses with some vague thought about light refraction distorting colors, but my hand touched only the skin of my face. Evidently in my fall my glasses had come off. A brief search revealed them lying nearby in the dirt. I picked them up, brushed them off and put them on. Damn. The leaves were still definitely green and *blue*. Unbidden, a scene from "Alice In Wonderland" ran through my mind - the deck of cards frantically painting the white roses red.... I shook my head again. I'd been around Mulder too long. Who would paint leaves blue? Now that my eyes were open, though, other peculiarities began to seize my attention. The flowers, for instance... purple bulbs with orange fingers protruding outward. The shape of the leaves on the odd plant with circular limbs. The sounds of the birdcalls, like the whistling of a flute in the wind. It was all nearly familiar, but strange at the same time. Normal, yet not quite right. It didn't make any sense.... But I was seeing it with my own eyes, and rubbing the dirt around on my face wasn't changing anything. Maybe I was dreaming... or drugged.... God knows that wouldn't be past any of Mulder's enemies. Perhaps I had stumbled into some trap laid for him and Scully. Perhaps I was simply dreaming while my body rested next to theirs in some secret government lab somewhere... No! That was not something I wanted to think about. Even guessing at what they may have done to Scully in the past made me ill. The thought that they could be doing things to me... Maybe I simply fell and hit my head. Or I passed out from stress and exhaustion. Neither was exactly good for my tough ex-Marine image, but I could live with that. Assuming I was alive, of course.... That was definitely another thought that needed to be shelved. This had to be just an odd, unusually vivid dream. I had to believe I would wake up soon and all this would fade away.... I yelled out inadvertently, as I was bitten by the biggest damn bug I'd seen in years, since the jungles of Vietnam. What the hell was that thing? I rolled down the sleeves of my shirt and buttoned the cuffs, having no intention of providing that thing's dinner. It's not something I wanted well-known, but I detest bugs, especially biting ones. Vietnam taught a lot of hard lessons about the damage they could cause, ones I learned well. Well, fine. That bite hurt. Whatever was going on here, whether I was dreaming or not, it certainly *seemed* real. And I was stuck with it until I managed to wake up. But it didn't seem like a nightmare. In fact, the air smelled wonderful. The scents were different - odd, but nice. Rather like a combination of a fancy French perfume and pine, with something... unique... thrown in. The trees were lovely, the ground looked perfectly ordinary, and actually it was all very peaceful. Not a bad place to take a walk.... The forest was endless, seeming to go on and on and on.... My shoes were ruined - they were made for sitting at desks, not for traipsing around in the forest primeval. And my clothes hadn't fared much better. Tugging my tie loose, I glared down at myself. My slacks were torn and stained, one sleeve of my shirt was ripped, and if I wasn't mistaken the back seam had let go completely between my shoulder blades. I had no idea what happened to the jacket I'd been carrying. The suit was definitely a goner, and it had been damned expensive. Someone was going to pay for this - and it wasn't going to be me. I could feel the muscles in my jaw twitch and my stomach lurch with the stress, and I clamped down on the emotion as quickly as I could. "Relax," I told myself aloud, my voice sounding tight and strangely lost in the midst of the florid greenery. I took a few deep breaths, trying to slow the accumulation of acid in my belly, wishing I had those Rolaids from my desk. I wasn't going to find any here, certainly. I needed to keep moving until I found a road. As for which way to head... who knew? A glance down at my wrist told me my watch had stopped. I suppose any direction would have been fine, so long as I walked until I woke up. But the idea that this was a dream was fading fast. It was too real. The smells, sounds, sights, sensations of this strange place were far more vivid than any dream I'd ever had. And it was going on far too long. But if it was real, then.... Confusion clouded my mind and I stumbled over a protruding tree root. Grabbing instinctively at a branch to keep my balance, I barely missed impaling my hand on a lethal-looking thorn. Drawing my hand back carefully, I drew a shaky breath. The first stirrings of panic pushed my heartrate up. Pushing myself forward again was more difficult than it should have been. I work hard to keep myself in tip-top shape, and the Bureau physician said I was in prime condition for a man my age. My age! I'm not *that* old - in fact, I've never felt better physically in my life. Physically - which just left emotionally and mentally... And those I wasn't too sure of lately.... I had not lost my mind. I repeated it like a mantra. I had been under a lot of stress - Mulder and Scully generate more between the two of them and the X-Files than the rest of my division combined - but I hadn't cracked. I just needed a little R & R. That's all. I am fine, I said to myself. I have to be fine. Just because I'm obviously hallucinating is no reason to lose confidence in my own mind.... Right. What the hell was THAT?? Freezing, I lifted my head, every nerve in my body tingling. Sensations rushed over me and my memory went wild. Green oak - or oak-like - trees and a thick carpet of leaves and weeds blurred in my mind's eye, and gave way to tropical vines and the gnarled trunks of jungle trees. Years dropped away, and I was crouched again beside a lagoon, buried waist-deep in water rushes, the sounds and scents of Vietnam overwhelming me. The pistol was a familiar weight in my palm, comforting. The rustle of leaves became the distant hum of a helicopter. The call of a beast was a guerilla signal, whining low and deep, circling around me, creeping closer and closer.... Out of the thick bushes leapt a form, burnished red in the failing sunlight. I caught a glimpse of its eyes, burning amber, and then nothing but the spinning sky as I was hurled to the ground. I landed with a thud that jolted the length of my spine painfully. I threw my left arm up to protect my head, the right bringing to bear the cold weight of my gun. My fingers tightened on the trigger once, twice - but instead of the report of the Sig Sauer, there was an impotent clicking. Goddamn, fucking, bloody, useless thing. Not totally useless. I improvised. It made a good club. The beast howled in my ear, an unearthly sound that made my skin crawl. Fear kicked adrenaline into my bloodstream. Stars sparked before my eyes. The urge to fight, to survive, was stronger at that moment than any time since 'Nam. I wanted to live. My arm swung again and again, bashing the metal of the gun against the skull of the beast with all the force I could muster. It howled, tearing at me with its claws. They sliced across my chest, opening long thin cuts that slowly wept blood. I barely felt it. Shock. I knew that well. The pain would come later. My body twisted and writhed, instinct and luck managing to keep those deadly teeth a hair's breadth from my face. A distant part of my mind noted the foul breath, the coarseness of its fur. I heard a cry with a hint of hysterical laughter mixed in and was alarmed to realize it came from me. Pain tore at my arm, my shoulder. Streaks of glaring red light blinded my eyes. There was the salty sting of sweat in open wounds. No. I *won't* die here, I vowed. The gun was knocked from my hand and I felt a new surge of panic. I fought desperately, twisting, turning... reaching... reaching for something, anything.... My hands grasped something solid - steel, warm and slippery with blood, and I held onto it for dear life. I swung.... Again, and then again. The cry of a wounded animal... was it mine or the beast's, or did it belong to the both of us? Silence. A heavy weight descended, crushing the breath from my aching lungs. I pushed... twisted.... Darkness washed over me. ~ ~ ~ Light... Waves of golden light surrounded me, warming me. Comforting warmth, like sinking into a hot bath. A cool breeze swept my forehead, bringing with it the smell of spring flowers, cherry blossoms and lilac. A low, female, other-worldly voice whispered in my ear, 'Safe... Sleep....' I was happy to comply. I woke sometime later. Struggling to stay in the comfort of sleep, I reached for the blanket and snuggled against it. It felt strange... thick... wet.... Something was wrong. Everything smelled funny. I felt... God, I felt like bloody hell. I hurt everywhere. My eyes opened to moonlight. I squinted upwards at a star- filled sky, brightly illuminated by a moon. God, I was seeing double. Two moons? Was I drunk? I squeezed my eyes shut and looked again. Two moons. Solidly in focus. I shoved the heavy damp fur laying on me away from my legs and abdomen. It wasn't a blanket, it was a dead... uh, a dead *something*. I got myself up on one knee with some effort, favoring my wounded arm, and stared at the beast. There was enough light from the moon - moons - to see it clearly. I still had no idea what it was - I'd never seen anything like it. Almost as big as a mountain lion, marked something like a tiger. Except orangy-red and brown. Long, curved fangs. And a crushed skull. I wondered just how the hell I had managed that. Well, somehow I had, and I wasn't about to question the luck of it. Maybe later... a long time later.... But for now... For now I had to keep myself from turning into a gibbering lunatic. Assuming that I wasn't one already. But my senses, especially my torn and bleeding shoulder, were all screaming at me that all this was very, very real. And if it was real... then.... Where in heaven, hell and earth was I? Sometimes it's the littlest things that drive you over the edge. It was almost comic. I was lost, alone, God-only-knows-where, I had just been nearly eaten by some kind of catlike beast, and it took the breaking of a glass lens to break me. My glasses had once more hit the deck, probably in the fight with the... thing. I put them on, only to find the left lens cracked. My clumsy attempts to more closely align the edges of the glass resulted in the entire lens falling out of the frame into my hand. My voice nearly choked me as every curse I ever heard came bubbling up from some dark pit inside me. On and on I went, until the utter absurdity of the situation skewed the anger into hysterical laughter. I laughed until I was breathless and my body shook, until I was no longer sure if I was laughing or crying or both... Oh God, yes, I've lost it *big* time, I thought. If only Mulder could see me now.... Now there was a sobering thought. A groan escaped as I wiped at my face with a tattered sleeve. Mulder. And Scully! If I was here, wherever here was, were they here, too? Could I find them? Would Mulder have an explanation for this? A real chuckle broke past my lips. Oh yes, Mulder would have an explanation. It would be fantastic, totally unbelievable, and if I knew the brilliant bastard at all, utterly accurate and absolutely unprovable. Still, he had come up with a few pieces of solid evidence now and then. That thing from the New Jersey sewers was an obvious example. Oh shit, the look on his face when I didn't react to that the way he had expected. It was almost worth everything else - the fine line I was desperately trying to walk. All of my unappreciated attempts to protect him. The risks I took. Just to see that look of utter confusion on those mobile features. Oh Mulder, I thought - you give away so much so easily. Every emotion, every thought is reflected in your face, in your haunted eyes. Now, Scully - oh, she had a better poker face than a Marine sergeant. Almost better than I have. But not you, Mulder. Never you. It's all there for those who've learned to look. Where was he now?? Blast him - if he got me into this, he'd damn well better get me out! Blinking, frowning fiercely at the broken spectacles clutched in my filthy hand, I imagined the lecture I would give that irrepressible, irresponsible, idiosyncratic... genius. I sighed. This really wasn't doing me the slightest bit of good, even if it did make me feel marginally better. Grimly placing the metal frames back on my nose and ears and tucking the broken lens in a pocket, I squinted through the one remaining lens. Night had fallen, and the forest took on an aspect of menace. The trees threw wavering shadows, rustling in the fingers of a chilly wind. Shapes that had held some familiarity before were now alien, unknown and unforgiving. In the distance I could hear the howl of beasts, circling somewhere in the surrounding wilderness. Searching for prey. Which I did not want to be. Surely there had to be civilization somewhere. I damped down the thought that it could be miles upon miles away. I was not about to give up now. I'd survived Vietnam, I'd survived Washington politics, I'd even survived brushes with Mulder's implacable enemies. I would survive this. I had to. The alternative was unacceptable. So I gathered the remnants of my strength, took my bearings, and pushed myself forward. It was slow going, stumbling over tree roots and rocks. The dimness beneath the trees was bad enough, but the scratches in the remaining lens added more distortion, breaking the world up into weirdly-shaped pieces. Finally, I took my glasses off in disgust, sticking them in the pocket with the broken lens. I could do without them. But I needed to keep moving, even if it was painfully slow. The chill was seeping in, making my injuries ache. Pure willpower kept me going, forcing me to take each step as I trudged through the forest, a single litany going through my mind.... Someone was going to answer for this. Someone was going to answer for this... someone was going to *pay* for this! Eventually, as I walked, it sank in that I could see far better than I should be able to at night in a heavily wooded area. A pastel luminescence was reflecting off the shiny surfaces of bark and leaves, pooling in small clearing, and sparkling in droplets of dew. Stopping, I turned to look around me, searching for the source of the light. My eyes were drawn inexorably upward. Upward. Towards the twin moons hanging heavy and pregnant high above the tips of the trees. I blinked. I guess that's when it finally sank in. TWO MOONS. My chest ached as the breath left me in a rush. I staggered slightly as realization dawned and my knees went weak. I could no longer deny the evidence of my senses. I swore to myself that I was dreaming and would wake up soon. I pinched the goose-bumped flesh of my forearms, and felt the pain. But nothing changed. And when the moment faded, I was left standing in an alien forest - cold, dirty, hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and more frightened that I can ever remember being. I'm not sure how long I stood there. The sounds didn't register at first. Sounds... Feet striking earth. The hard pulse of hooves. Voices. People! I spun around in a slow circle, the alien twin moons momentarily forgotten. People meant roads, and roads led to civilization. The noise was getting slowly louder and I could now make out other sounds.... The jangle of bells, a creaking noise, and voices echoing in a rhythmic chant. The words were musical but unintelligible and decidedly not English. But I could tell the direction now. I ran through the undergrowth with desperate speed. Old training and my injuries had me running in a half-crouch. Caution was warning me to slow down, to get a look at the people before I exposed myself.... But the warning went unheeded. I crashed through onto an unpaved road directly in the path of some sort of horse-drawn caravan, and opened my mouth to yell for help. Surely one of these people could help, could at least tell me where I was. These people.... Weren't people. I froze. My heart stopped. My breath caught in my lungs and no sound came out of my mouth. For one moment I thought I might actually pass out. Then everything came back with a rush and my blood began to pound with new adrenaline. Fight-or-flight, but I was rooted to the ground with shock. These were aliens. They had to be. Little green aliens. In the blue gleam of their lanterns I could see them clearly. Short and thick of stature, they were dressed in brightly colored clothes. Their bodies were round, their faces inordinately ugly. They bared their teeth at me - and a sudden jolt of relief burst through my veins. Those teeth were big, solid, in multiple rows, but utterly blunt. From some corner of my mind came the reassurance -- blunt teeth meant vegetable eaters. So they probably didn't see me as dinner. *Probably.* It suddenly penetrated that while these creatures were obviously surprised to see me, they weren't frightened or horrified. Maybe I didn't seem as strange to them.... Maybe they'd seen humans before? In fact, some of them appeared to be quite excited to see me. A few were jumping up and down and... laughing? Even the possibility that I was the object of their amusement made me struggle to regain my dignity. I snapped my jaw shut, straightened my back and glared down at them - they were barely waist-height. I opened my mouth to speak at the same time they did, then found myself stymied by the language barrier. Whatever they were speaking, it certainly wasn't English. Or any other language I'd ever heard. What were the chances that they'd understand me? "Greetings," I breathed. Oh, great, now I sounded like Mr. Spock on some Star Trek episode. The creatures merely gazed at me, waiting. Two of them scurried away and dived into one of the covered wagons. "My name is Walter Skinner," I tried again, "and I seem to be lost. By any chance, have you seen a couple of... uh... friends of mine? A tall man named Mulder," I held my hand up head-high for a moment, then moved it down to the level of my chest, "and a short red-haired woman named Scully?" Abruptly the entire group broke into loud chatter. I couldn't understand a word, but several of them were gesticulating wildly. Three more began to circle me, though keeping a safe distance. Then the largest one of the group - whose head barely reached my stomach - stepped closer and waved at me. I looked at him. When he saw he had my attention, he spoke. There was a spate of gibberish, but two words I understood perfectly. '...*****Mulder****Scully****...' My heart leapt like a bloodhound picking up a scent. Of course, I thought wryly. If there's anything strange going on, you can bet Mulder will be in the middle of it. Of course these creatures would know him. "Mulder, Scully," I repeated firmly. His face crinkled up in what I assumed was a grin. He gestured at me again, speaking at length in that strange, musical language. It was obvious that he wanted to me to come with him. I was unsure about his intentions, but at this point I didn't really have a better option. Since they had wagons hopefully I wouldn't have to do much more walking. Besides, if he knew Mulder and Scully's names, then there was at least a chance he might take me to them. So I followed. His face crinkled again, and he led me toward the back of a wagon. The curtains parted and out poked the head of another one of these creatures. His eyes lit up as he saw me and he broke into a rapid exchange with my larger guide. It took a few minutes, but they obviously came to some agreement, for my guide hurried off and the little one hopped down from the wagon to stand in front of me. Unlike the others, this one was wearing some kind of cloak over his tunic. It was long and dyed a deep, solid blue with lighter blue around the edges. The others appeared to treat him respect as he led me down the length of the caravan, so I figured that he must be a leader of some sort. We stopped at a small wagon at the very back of the wagon train. He peered up at me for a moment, then pointed to his chest and said firmly, "Piteer." Then he pointed at me. Well, that was plain enough. He was giving me his name, and wanted mine. When he repeated his movements I responded to his out-thrust finger with "Skinner". "Sssskinneer," he echoed. Not perfect, but definitely close enough. I nodded, then mimicked him in reverse, trying to say his name the way he'd said it. "Skinner, Piteer." He grinned and bobbed his head in obvious approval and I tried to return his smile. he said something that sounded encouraging, then gestured for me to climb up onto the front seat of the wagon. I did, gingerly, as it was made to accommodate bodies much smaller than mine. 'Piteer' nimbly hopped up beside me and took the reins, deftly maneuvering the horses around until we were heading the opposite direction from the rest of the wagons. Loud noises, the clatter of hooves, and shouted voices sounded behind us as the caravan started down the narrow road away from us. 'Piteer' urged our horses forward. "Where are we going?" I felt compelled to ask, even though I had little hope of being understood. My companion began to chatter, frowned, then abruptly smiled. Pointing ahead of us, he said clearly, "Mulder...Scully..." Did I dare I hope that meant what it sounded like? "Mulder and Scully are that way?" I asked hopefully, pointing ahead as he had done. He beamed at me like a teacher with a favorite student, nodding and bobbing his head. He pointed and repeated "Mulder, Scully" once more. Then he sat back and snapped the reins, urging the horses along the road. Making myself as secure and comfortable as possible on the too-small seat, I tried to come to terms with this new turn of events. Staring sightlessly out at the double-moon-lit countryside, I could only hope that this little creature was leading me to my agents. To safely. To the only two people who might be able to explain what had happened to me. End of Chapter Two Chapter Three The strange constellations - the Snowbeast and the Woodscat, The Mage and The Potter - sparkled above the two figures unsteadily pulling themselves up from the dewy grass of the meadow. Scully took a few deep breaths to clear the vertigo from her head before gazing up at the resplendent canopy. She felt her bondmate close behind her and leaned back against his chest. "Amazing, isn't it?" she murmured, bathed in light of the stars and the twin moons. "There's nothing like this. No feeling like it, no sight like it. Unfamiliar and exotic... and at the same time, peaceful, serene... home." "I know what you mean." His breath went up in little clouds as he spoke, his hands rubbing her shoulders and arms to ward off the chill of the night. "Although I think that serenity is about end." She spun in his arms, tense, concerned. "Why, Mulder? Do you sense something wrong?" "No. I 'sense' Aldara and Jourdain coming through the trees," he chuckled, pointing. "'Dara!" Scully whooped, and ran off across the meadow as fast as her high heels would carry her. Shivering a little, he watched as a grinning Jourdain passed the two hugging women, and approached him. They clasped forearms in the manner of the Realm before embracing warmly. "Mage Mulder, you're looking well. Oddly attired and a little pale, to be sure, but otherwise well." Mulder smiled wanly and launched into fluent New Realm. "You've been through the vortex, Jourdain - twice. When the Professor said that he and Hannu had made some improvements, I was hoping that eliminating the travel sickness might be one of them. Evidently not." "Damned vortex," growled the grizzled soldier. "I stand by my opinion - it's no way for a being to travel. Except, my friend, that it brings you and Warrior Healer Scully back to us, and for that, I allow, we must be grateful to it. It's good to have you back." "It's wonderful to be back, Jourdain. You have no idea how much Scully and I have missed this place." The Captain of the Guard looked around, puzzled. "No travel sacks?" "We weren't given very much notice. Understandable, all things considered." Mulder shrugged. "Unfortunately, it means we weren't able to stop for gifts." "Or warm clothing, it would seem. Gifts I don't care about, but we can't have you requiring the Healer quite so early in your visit." Jourdain unfastened the heavy gold clasp of his cloak. "If it would be no insult for you to take the cloak of a soldier, please use this. You're cold, and it is yet some distance to the castle." "I remember. And it's no insult, it's an honor. Thank you." Mulder wrapped himself gratefully in the warm folds of the dark green cloak. "It was summer in our world. The change is refreshing, but a bit of a surprise." He looked over to see Aldara fastening her cloak around Scully and then the two started for the castle. The men trailed behind. "And how is Shannon?" Jourdain's face froze in a jovial grin, his cheeks trembling with the effort. "She is well, she is well.... We had a fine harvest this season-cycle," he continued heartily. "A good thing, as the weather has turned unseasonably cold." Mulder kept his pace steady, but his eyes slid over to observe the big warrior. "You know, in my world, when someone changes the subject that quickly - especially, changes it to the topic of the weather - it's because there's something he doesn't want to talk about," he commented mildly. He felt the familiar heaviness of dread in the pit of his stomach. "What is it, Jourdain? What's wrong with Shannon?" "By the Blood of the Dark Creatures! ...I told Reinald it was a mistake to send me to meet you! I have no gift for dissembling, I told him...." He sighed. "Forgive me, Mulder. Shannon is well, she is. But her Time has not been free from more than its share of concerns. Reinald and Andalor wished to tell you themselves after you arrived. Knowing the depth of your feeling for Her Majesty, they thought that you might...overreact." He looked over to gauge the effect of his words on his friend. "Me? Overreact?" With some difficulty, Mulder fought down the urge to break into a run for the castle. They entered the woods on the wide, well-trodden path, the two women twenty meters ahead of them. They still chattered away cheerfully in the soft, melodious sounds of New Realm. Aldara must be better at dissembling, he mused. "It is well-known that you sometimes think first with your heart, Mage Mulder. No offense intended, of course." "And none taken." He sighed. "Actually, I guess that's a pretty fair assessment.... So that's why Reinald didn't come to meet me himself - he knew I would see the change in his aura. Well, I saw it anyway, through the Oracle Cloud. I was just hoping I was mistaken." "Ah, well. 'Tis not so bad as you may think. I admit to similar concerns, however. Aldara's own Time was difficult, and had it not been for Healer Corvay, I might have lost Aldara, and Daanna too." The big soldier shook his head. "Of course, we are but men; the women take these things in their stride. Queen Shannon is herself serene, while Andalor has made a pest of himself with Kyla, summoning her at all hours for everything and anything. The first time the wee one moved, I thought surely we'd have to revive him." "Poor kid. How's he doing otherwise?" Jourdain grunted. "Sometimes I think times of peace and prosperity are the worst of all. Although Goddess knows there have been few enough of them lately.... Still, they offer no distraction from the mischief of the Noble Houses." "The Houses? Are they still at it? But I thought the Houses were moribund, after the deaths of so many of their most powerful leaders." Mulder grimaced, thinking back to the horrific day when the Dark Queen brought down the teeming Great Hall in her prelude to battle. The carnage had been terrible, with the heads of Dordinal and Maalfees among the first to fall. "Well, you know - scum always rises to the top. There never seems to be a shortfall of ignorant young nobles vying for power." "Surely Ranfaus remains loyal." "Ah, yes. House Ranfaus has been a staunch supporter of Andalor, thank the Goddess." "Who took over after Mandor?" One of the most severely injured had been the wise and loyal Lord Mandor, Mulder recalled with a stab of regret. His fidelity to Andalor in a time of terrible turmoil had given the young king badly needed support. And his generosity in canceling the betrothal agreement between his daughter Livirnea and the King had made Shannon and Andalor's union possible. "But Lord Mandor survived, Mulder! I forgot that you would have no way of knowing. In fact, he not only survived, but he is well enough to head Ranfaus." "Really? That's wonderful news! But how - " The men stopped to gravely return the salutes of the guards at the portcullis before continuing through to the cobbled courtyard. "Reinald will turn me into a field-beast if I tell you all the news, Mulder," Jourdain protested, smiling. "Fat chance. All right, no more questions. Except one - where are we headed?" "Reinald's quarters, of course. For tea and food and the rest of the news. I don't know how many of the others will still be up - it's quite late." He looked affectionately at the young Mage who, with his Companion, meant so much to the Realm. "I'm glad you've come, Mulder. Aldara has talked of little else for days but the chances of your coming back. You've been gone a long time, my friend." "Too long, Jourdain. Too long." The men followed Scully and Aldara through the archway into the sleeping castle. They walked along the stone passageways flickering with torchlight and echoing with their footsteps. Climbing the final winding stone staircase, they reached a thick wooden door inlaid with iron strips. Reinald answered their knock himself. "Ah, they're here! Lishla, four more for tea, please. Mulder, it's so good to see you!" The old Mage hugged his favorite protege, tears dancing in his eyes. "And Warrior Healer Scully! This is wonderful!" He ushered them inside. At the huge open fireplace to their right, a female elf garbed in the dress of a Mage Apprentice made tea. In the warmth of the room, surrounded by their friends, the bondmates suddenly had a feeling of well-being that seemed to belong only there in the Realm. They sank into deeply cushioned armchairs by the hearth. Jourdain took a straightbacked wooden chair, and Aldara sat on the floor, curled up by his knee. Scully sighed happily and accepted a mug of fragrant tea handed to her respectfully by the elven apprentice. She sipped at it gratefully, noting it was the invigorating variety of the brew, the one Mulder always likened to Jolt Cola. Although in their own world it would have been only evening, the cold of the outside, the warmth of the room and the trip through the vortex were creeping up on her, making her sleepy. And there was much too much news to catch up on to miss a thing. A hot welcomed rush suffused through her body. She lightly entered Mulder's mind to find similar thoughts - that, and his fever to learn more about Shannon's welfare. "I must apologize," Reinald said, seating himself. "I have been remiss. Come, Lishla.... Lishla is my newest apprentice. She came to me a season ago from Fairwoods Glen, highly recommended by Prince Mavor himself. Lishla, this is Mage Mulder and his Companion, Warrior Healer Scully." Mulder took advantage of the elf's speechlessness to study her. Rusty as his skills might be, there was no mistaking the powerful sky-blue aura that shimmered outward from her slight form. Her pointed ears peeked out from masses of black ringlets, her homely face open and oddly attractive. Wide brown eyes looked at him in awe. "Then it's true," she breathed. "His Highness told me extraordinary things, so extraordinary I could scarcely believe them. But it's true, I can see it in your auras!" She bowed low before the bondmates. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mage Apprentice Lishla," Mulder replied formally. "If Prince Mavor recommended you, then I'm sure you'll make a wonderful Mage. Reinald will teach you so much, as he-" "And I've worked Lishla very hard today," the old Mage interrupted. "You have my leave to retire for the night, Mage Apprentice. Commit the spell we worked on today to memory and we will try it again tomorrow." "Yes, Royal Mage. Good night." With a glance back at the travelers, she slipped out and closed the door softly behind her. "Here, you must be hungry after your journey." Reinald passed a tray of dark sweet breads and cakes around to his guests. "I'll stall you no more, Mulder. I appreciate your discretion while Lishla was here. I do trust her implicitly, but I have not yet gotten around to explaining your origins, nor those of Queen Shannon. There are still quite few privy to that knowledge. I'm afraid that she would find it... confusing, in this stage of her training. I don't want to distract her. She shows great promise." The Mage took a final sip of his tea and then set his cup down deliberately. "And I - I apologize to you, dear boy, for the deception earlier today. Although it appears that I did not deceive you after all...." He watched Mulder's features for signs of confirmation, which were not long in coming. "He reads faces as well as he does auras, Reinald," grumbled Jourdain. "I told you I would not be able to keep up your deception, not from such a powerful Mage." "A hunger-maddened troll could have read your face, Jourdain," Mulder teased. Then he grew serious. "So what's the story, Reinald - the whole story." "Shannon is doing well, and Kyla is pleased. But there were some problems early on, and Kyla is concerned for when the child begins to make its journey. It was as much to have Scully here as you that I notified you." "Can I see her?" asked Mulder eagerly. "It might be better if you waited until morning," Reinald said, not unkindly. "They have long since retired, and Kyla wants Shannon to get as much sleep as she can. She feels the child will make its appearance very soon." He smiled wryly. "Actually, I expected Andalor to be here tonight. I know he wanted to be. But he is more exhausted than Shannon. He spends much of the night watching over her and pacing. And running for Kyla if she as much as turns over in her sleep. Indeed, Shannon bears up much better than does the King. And Kyla is so tired from being summoned by Andalor at all hours, she finally lost her temper and snapped at him to go away and do something useful. I think it struck him speechless!" Everyone chuckled, although Mulder's was half-hearted. "He must love her very much," Scully commented softly. Aldara nodded. "Completely besotted. I don't think they could be any closer if they were lifebonded." The Royal Mage looked over at his brooding, worried protege. "Morning is not so many candlemarks away, Mulder," Reinald said gently. "She is in no danger. If you were to see her now, in her excitement she would get no more sleep for the remainder of the night. She has missed you very much, you know. Not a day goes by that she does not speak of you." Scully merged easily into Mulder's thoughts, feeling the sting of disappointment at not being able to see Shannon immediately, as well as his surprised happiness that the girl had not, as he had feared, forgotten all about him. She flashed the older Mage a look of gratitude which he acknowledged with twinkling eyes and a nod of his head. "Now, what other news shall we bring you up to date on before you retire?" "I want to know all about Daanna," Scully demanded. "She's eight season-cycles old now, if you can believe it," announced Aldara, smiling. "Although she continues to seem ten times that, sometimes. She spends part of every day with Reinald or Hannu, learning to accept and control her gifts, although I'm not really sure they know what to make of her." She looked over at the Royal Mage. "Indeed we don't. A bright orange aura - unheard of in our time. We are hoping the gargoyle scholars and archivists can come up with some answers. But if even Hannu can't think of anything...." "But at least she doesn't have so many of the foretelling dreams anymore," Jourdain added. Her nightmares during the Dark Queen's attempt to conquer the Realm by carnage and hatred had terrified both the child and her parents. Without Daanna's dreams, however, and the insights they had provided, the Dark Queen might well have succeeded. "And when she does have a foretelling dream, often it about something trivial, even child-like." "That's a reassuring change, anyway," Scully replied "I can hardly wait to see her." "And the renovations to our cottage," Jourdain said proudly. "We had hardly started when you left." "We were disappointed not to be able to get back for Shannon and Andalor's wedding. Unfortunately your summons could not have come at a worse time," said Mulder. "We were in the middle of a briefing in a roomful of people, just before setting out on a manhunt for a serial killer." "It was Mulder's profile that finally got everyone looking in the right direction," his bondmate explained. "The man he suspected was prominent in the area and the local law enforcement couldn't believe he could be responsible. If Mulder hadn't been there, more little boys might have been taken and killed." Mulder hadn't been 'disappointed' at not being able to attend the wedding, Scully reflected - he had been crushed not to see Shannon marry her king. But there had been no question, in either of their minds, about their decision not to go to the Realm. Not when lives were at stake. "Adding insult to injury, I think I had blisters on my chest for two weeks," Mulder grumbled. "Reinald, you really have to do something about the heat conduction from the Oracle Cloud. I was just sitting there in that briefing, squirming in my seat, trying to figure out how I would explain it if the front of my shirt burst into flames." Reinald chuckled. "I'll have to enlist the Professor's assistance. We can't have you catching fire. But I am glad you could be here for the Royal Birth. As I said, it is generally believed that you are, in fact, Shannon's taabsut. It raised questions when you were not here for the wedding. I don't think I have to tell you the source of the questions," he said shrewdly. "The Noble Houses, no doubt." The Mage nodded. "You were here for the betrothal, which was a more important ceremony than the wedding, at least from the point of view of the taabsut. But your role in the Birth Ritual is quite pivotal. It would have provoked rumors had you not been able to take part. I don't think the excuse that you were in distant lands on the work of the King would have passed muster a second time." "Uh... exactly how pivotal is this role?" Mulder asked uncomfortably. The Mages' eyes twinkled. "Rest easy, dear boy. The Minister of Protocol and I will brief you tomorrow. That, by the way, will take some delicate handling. Ballorca is also unaware of your origins and those of the Queen. Goddess, he would faint dead away if he knew. Unthinkable!" He chuckled heartily and the others joined in. Ballorca was comic in his fussiness. But he also took his position extremely seriously, as well he might in a land so bound to tradition and ritual as the Realm was. "Well, I suspect you must want to get settled for what remains of the night. You remember the way?" "We have our old room back?" Scully exclaimed, with a flush of pleasure. The Mage shrugged. "It is your chamber. When you're not here, it stands empty, awaiting your return." He rose as they did and trailed them to the door. "Besides, Lita would never speak to me again if I dared put anyone else in there. A formidable being, Lita. I would not cross her for the world." The friends bade each other good night and went their respective ways. Arms wrapped at the waist, the bondmates strolled along the chilly stone passageways, their footfalls the only sounds. At length, they stopped in front of an intricately carved door. "This is new," Scully murmured. "Wait, Mulder - look! It's us!" He peered at the carvings and saw she was right. The door was a history of their life in the Realm - from their fight with the soul eaters within hours of their arrival, to their adventures while on the search for Hannu, to the climactic battle with the Dark Queen. Mulder's fingers brushed the carved oaken surface. "It's beautiful work. Well, I wonder what other changes there are," he mused. Scully felt his misgivings,and sympathized. Their chamber in the Realm had been the scene of so much it had become almost a symbol - of their relationship, their friendships there, and their unique powers. Neither was looking forward to changes in something so fundamental to their existence there. He pushed the door open. It was the same. Everything was the same, as if they had never been gone. The welcoming fire, the loaf and teapot standing on the low table between the armchairs at the hearth, the tall windows set deep into the walls, standing like sentinels guarding their quarters until their return. And the high Realm bed, draped with filmy white curtains. "Now, we're home." End of Chapter Three Chapter Four They awoke early as they had that first morning - in each other's arms and aware of the presence of another being nearby. Scully gave her sleeping bondmate a good morning kiss. //Rise and shine, Mulder.\\ //Mmph....\\ There was the clatter of crockery and suddenly his eyes flew open. //Lita?\\ //That would be my guess.\\ She searched under the bedclothes for her nightshirt, discarded carelessly some time in the night. //I'll give you a week to stop groping around down there....\\ Mulder's hand absently caressed the skin of her back. //Probably not a good idea, if you intend to see Shannon today.\\ Her hand met something silky and she sat up to pull the pale green sheath over her head. She left her bondmate struggling to find his shorts, swept back the curtains and slipped out of bed. The elf was laying the table for breakfast, unloading the huge tray she had brought up from the kitchens. The sound of bare feet slapping on the stone floor brought her head up from her task, and her face glowed. "Warrior Healer Scully! You're back! She made her little bob of respect, then grasped Scully around the waist. "It's been too long. And I have so much to tell you!" Dana hugged her. "You don't look a day older, Lita." "Oh, get away with you! Why, my oldest is married now and expecting a child of her own." "What, no hug for me?" Mulder asked, approaching them clad only in his shorts. It didn't matter - Lita had seen far more of him back in the days when one of her duties had been to assist him to bathe every morning. The elf made a beeline for him and embraced him. Suddenly she broke away. "Ach, you'll catch your deaths!" She bustled to the armoire and pulled out a pair of soft, heavy robes. "Here, put these on before you freeze. It will warm up later, but for now it is quite cold. Now, sit down and have some breakfast - I ordered all your favorites - and while I straighten up in here, I'll let you know what's been going on in your absence." The bondmates exchanged looks of amused expectation. Lita's revelations of the events of the Realm were always informative, entertaining, and often bordering on the obscene. Sitting down at the refectory table, they discovered their appetites for the unique cuisine of the Realm and began passing platters and bowls while Lita dished the dirt. Their meal was punctuated by laughter, and choking over some of the more scandalous of her announcements. "Jourdain told me that Lord Mandor is well again." Mulder commented. "Oh yes, he's doing quite well. He tires after walking long distances and he'll always have that limp. But it is a miracle he survived to walk at all. He spent a whole season-cycle at his estates with two Healers in attendance, just getting well. Of course, I believe that their success was due in no small part to the fact that his soul eater of a wife dropped dead a mere two seasons after he got back there," Lita replied with obvious satisfaction. "Lady Norilka died?" exclaimed Scully. Norilka was a spoiled snob who made her husband and daughter's lives no less hellish than those of her servants. "It must have been very sudden." "Oh, it was. Now, you know I'm not one to gossip,of course, and I'd never tell anyone but you two.... But what I heard is that the poisonous witch flew into a rage with her servants over some triviality, and dropped dead on the spot! A cousin of mine, Gorfel, works in the stables there, and what Gorfel said was, although officially the estate was in mourning, it was the merriest mourning the Realm has yet seen." Mulder disguised a laugh by coughing. He had loathed the woman, personally, finding her a power-hungry scold and a species bigot, like so many of the old families of the Noble Houses. "But surely, Mandor and Livirnea -" "..were no less relieved than the servants," Lita finished flatly, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "I'll take your word for it, then. What's happened to Pitir? I see Reinald has a new apprentice." "Lishla, yes... lovely child. About time we had an elf, and a female one at that, for training under the Royal Mage. Wonderful aura, simply wonderful. Pitir is a fully-fledged Mage now, travelling with the troll caravans for a bit of 'seasoning' as Reinald says." "And Shannon?" Mulder asked innocently. Lita wagged a tiny finger at him. "Oh, no you don't, Mage Mulder! You'll not get anything from me! And don't look at me with those wide eyes. I'm on to you! Their Majesties await you in two candlemarks. They rose rather late, and Kyla must look in on Queen Shannon before you take up the rest of her day." She relented, smiling. "But she looks forward to seeing you. She has missed you very much." Jumping down from her perch, she continued, "Well, I have other tasks. Your bath water awaits you, Mage Mulder. See that you don't spill as much as you usually do." She looked knowingly at the bondmates and Scully blushed. "And when you see Queen Shannon, for Goddess' sake don't tell her she's as big as the Great Hall. She's very sensitive about that." "I wouldn't dream of it." "I know - and don't worry. Things will go fine." "Thank you, Lita," Scully said. "Oh, by the way, who did the beautiful carvings on our door?" "Ah, that. Well, Jhorgab - you know how chatty he is - he related all the adventures you had on your journey to find Hannu. We took Jhorgab's stories and put them together with your other adventures. Another cousin of mine is a master carver, and he plied his trade upon your door using the stories for inspiration." "Well, thank you for that, and for keeping our chamber for us." "What kind of a servant would I be if I let just anyone in here, I'd like to know? Really, one must have standards...." Her voice went on after she closed the door behind her. Scully scooped the last of the sweet yogurt-like substance out of her bowl and set her spoon down. "So, what do you want to do to kill a couple of hours?" His eyes gleamed. ~ ~ ~ Scully fastened the lightweight wool cloak at her throat. She was back in her 'Realm clothes' - warrior-green cloak edged in the Healer's brown, flowing white shirt, tan breeches and high leather boots. "Ready?" "I've been ready since last night." Mulder adjusted his longer, Mage-blue cloak He looked over guiltily at the huge puddle surrounding the copper bath. "Do you think we ought to try wiping some of that up?" "Somehow, I think Lita would believe something were seriously amiss if she didn't find that puddle, Mulder. No, I think she'll forgive us this time. Besides, your halla awaits." She caught the mixture of pleaure, expectation and anxiety as thoughts and emotions tumbled through his mind. Weaving her fingers through his, she sent a wave of reassurance that was almost second nature to her now. "Let's go see Shannon and Andalor." ~ ~ ~ They tapped lightly at the door of the Royal Suite and were admitted immediately by Dorbo. Andalor, pacing by the fire, glanced up as they entered and a huge smile lit his face. "Mulder! Damn, but I'm glad to see you," exclaimed the King, shaking hands with the Mage. "And Scully, thank the Goddess! Kyla is in with Shannon, but should be leaving soon. Dorbo?" "Tea's coming, Sire." "And how is your world, Mulder?" He indicated for them to take seats. "Pretty much as you left it, Your Majesty - " "Um... if you wouldn't mind...." Mulder chuckled. "All right - Andalor." As her bondmate went on to discuss some of the newest wonders of their world, Scully had a chance to study the fascinated King. He had grown, nearly as tall as Mulder now. There was no trace of the boy any longer in the lean planes of his face, and he had filled out the promise of his broad shoulders. His hair was somewhat darker, and stubble graced his chin and cheeks. Only his eyes remained unchanged, the deep purple of the irises just as startling as they had always been. "...but really, there hasn't been much change, Andalor. Time passes more swiftly in the Realm. You may have changed and Fairwoods certainly has done a lot of rebuilding since we were last here. But in my world, relatively little time has passed since you left." Both men started as Kyla came through the door from the bedchamber, and Andalor jumped to his feet. "Healer Kyla, how -" "King Andalor, you wife is doing splendidly," Kyla announced calmly. "It won't be long now, another day or two at most, I would say." She glanced over at the bondmates and smiled. "Healer Scully, I'm glad you're here. I've just finished a healing treatment with Her Majesty. I think she'd like to see you and Mage Mulder if -" she stepped back quickly as Andalor and Mulder raced for the door into the bedchamber. Kyla shook her head resignedly and led Scully in at a more decorous pace. Andalor stood at his wife's bedside, tenderly stroking her hair and crooning soothingly to her in a low voice meant for her ears alone. Her eyes were locked on his, and it wasn't until Mulder cleared his throat loudly that she glanced up. "Oh, Mulder!" She held out her arms as Andalor stepped back and allowed the Mage to fill them. "Shannon, you look beautiful," he murmured, his throat tight. "I've missed you so much." His halla said nothing, merely tightened her arms around his neck. Suddenly he felt moisture seeping through the front of his fine linen shirt. "Shannon, are you all right, baby?" Sniffing, she finally released her hold on him and nodded. "I'm fine. It's just the damned hormones or something, I guess. Did you really miss me? I thought that maybe you forgot all about me." "Are you kidding? Every day I wondered what kind of trouble you were getting up to. Let me take a look at you. God, you've grown up!" "And out," she said ruefully, indicating her belly. "This is so weird, Mulder. I think I'm going to explode or something." "Don't tell Ballorca - it's probaby against protocol." Mulder stood looking at her, his eyes shining and a silly grin touching his lips. "I'll leave you now," said Kyla. "Healer Scully, if you would like to stop by my cottage later, I can refresh your knowledge of Realm medicine." "Thanks, Kyla. I'd like that." The Healer left as Dorbo entered. "Will you have tea here or in the receiving room?" "Here." "The receiving room, please, Dorbo. Come on, Andy! I need to move, and I'm allowed out of bed two candlemarks a day and I haven't been up yet today." Mulder looked at Scully, frowning as Andalor helped his wife to stand. He draped her shoulders with a robe and led the way to the next room. //Scully, surely that's not normal, to have to spend that much time in bed.\\ //We don't know what's normal for here, Mulder. For all I know, all Realm females spend their entire pregnancies in bed.\\ He stopped sort of the doorway. //For all you know?\\ Scully grimaced uncomfortably. //Well, think about it. Whenever we've been here before, I've had to concentrate on healing terrible injuries - the War with the Dark Creatures, the ambush on the troll caravan, the aftermath of the Dark Queen's attack. I haven't had much of an opportunity to study Realm obstetrical practices.\\ She felt his fear, and his attempt to control it, to shield it from her. //Hell of a time to announce you 'don' know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies', Scully\\ he mindspoke lightly, but she could sense the disquiet underlying the bantering words. //Well, I did go to med school, you know. And I completed an OB rotation. And Kyla will fill me in on how things are done here. So I'm not precisely working from a position of total ignorance. Don't worry, love.\\ Her confidence leached into his mind and he grasped it, taking comfort. //Now come on, let's find out what the story is.\\ They sat near the fire and accepted a cup of tea from Dorbo. Mulder looked across at Shannon and his breath caught in his throat. She was lovely - tall, strong, her back straight, raven hair in a single thick braid over one shoulder, her remarkable amber eyes shining. Shannon glanced up to find herself being watched by three pairs of eyes. "What?" "I just can't get over how beautiful you look," admitted Mulder. "But I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't worried about you." "Jeez, Mulder, this is a natural process. Women have been having babies for zillions of years." "That's what I keep trying to tell him," laughed Scully. "If Andalor wasn't King, I think Kyla would have quit by now," the girl grumbled. "Shannon - you're special. Our child will be special. And you know yourself there have been problems," her husband countered. "That's what we've been hearing, Andalor. What kind of problems?" Mulder asked softly. The King sighed. "This isn't Shannon's first pregnancy, Mulder. Naturally, you know the expectation of the Realm - for the Queen and King to provide heirs to the throne, and that expectation mounts as soon as the wedding procession ends.... We lost one, not too long after the wedding, even before we were sure.... Then, almost a season-cycle later, we lost another." He reached over and took Shannon's hand. "We hadn't yet made an announcement. After the first, we wanted to be very sure before announcing the news to the Realm. But you know what it's like to try to keep a secret around here, it's nearly impossible. So rumors were flying around that the Realm was to have an heir. It wasn't two weeks later that we lost the second." "Oh Shannon, Andalor. I'm so sorry," Scully said, shaken. For all their youth, the royal couple had had so much tragedy to deal with. Andalor had lost both his parents while still a small child, and it was the loss of her mother that had brought a grieving, guilt- stricken Shannon to the Realm. And now two miscarriages. Andalor shrugged. "It happens, even here. But Kyla couldn't tell us why it had happened, which is unusual. And then other rumors started, vicious ones - all of them basically to the effect that Shannon would never be able to give the Realm an heir, because she was a witch, because she was an outworlder, because she was cursed, because I was cursed - take your pick," he finished disgustedly. Shannon's hand had tightened on his, her knuckles white. "The Noble Houses?" asked Mulder. His tone was deceptively soft, his face bland. Scully alone could detect his burning anger, hitting her in waves, as she put up a light shield to deflect them. Andalor shrugged. "It would appear so. These rumors were treasonous, so understandably their origins were difficult to trace. I suppose some might have been mere idle, malicious gossip. Or perhaps just wishful thinking on the part of the Noble Houses." "Wishful thinking?" Mulder's eyes narrowed. "How so?" "The laws of the Realm state that if there is no heir, the Throne will revert to the Noble Houses," Shannon explained quietly. Sadly, she smiled. "You can see I've been doing my homework. Such a situation has never occurred. Realm families tend to be large, and the Royal Family is usually no exception. But Andy has no living relatives... he had no brothers and sisters, we assume his Uncle Drellor is dead, and he left no heirs. If Andy and I have no children.... " Her eyes filled with tears. Andalor's head bent close to hers. "Ssh, pet. We will have children. In just a few days we will have a beautiful, strong child, and Goddess willing, there will be brothers and sisters." Shannon gave him a watery smile. "Let's get through this one before we talk about more." She turned to Mulder and Scully. "There were some problems early on - with spotting and so on," she said, a little uncomfortably. "We were afraid I was going to lose this one too - that's why Kyla's been so cautious. I mean, this is nothing. At one point all my food was prepared under her supervision and I was watched constantly. As time went on, things started looking more hopeful. Now I think she's a little nervous, because I *am* an outworlder. I mean, everything else seems to work pretty much as it does in the old world," she said, blushing prettily, "but this is kind of a new experience for everyone, and we don't really know what to expect." "Everything will be fine," said Scully warmly. "You've made it past the tricky time. Now any time Junior is ready...." "Well, that's what I keep telling Andy and Kyla," Shannon replied, more cheerfully. Scully smiled. "Have you got names picked out?" Shannon's eyes sparkled. "Oh, yes - moon cycles ago. Sorry, Taabsut," she said, turning to Mulder. "I know you're going to ask, but I can't tell you. No one can know until the Naming Day Ceremony, two days after the baby is born. Tradition, you know." Suddenly she yawned enormously. "Back to bed, Shannon," Andalor said firmly. He looked apologetically at the bondmates. Mulder shook his head. "No, it's all right. I have to meet with Reinald and Ballorca anyway. They're going to brief me on how much trouble you've gotten me into this time, Halla Shannon," he said, reverting to the teasing relationship they had shared during Shannon's early days in the Realm. He stood and grasped Scully's hand as they prepared to leave. The Queen grinned impudently up at him. "You're a hero of the Realm, Mage Mulder - three times over. I'm sure you'll be equal to whatever task awaits you in a Birthing Ritual." "You wouldn't know by any chance what that task might be, do you?" "Sorry," she grinned, shaking her head. "At this point, all I'm concerned with is my part - that's going to be tough enough, thanks." Then she sobered. "Mulder, I can't tell you how much it means to me to have you here. Not so much because of the traditions and all, but... it just makes me feel so much better, so much stronger." He bent to kiss her forehead. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world - your world or mine." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The bondmates went their separate ways, each to prepare in their own way for the upcoming birth. Scully went to Kyla's cottage for a crash course in Realm obstetrics, while Mulder found himself knocking at Reinald's door. "Ah, Mage Mulder - you are expected. Please come in." "Thank you, Mage Apprentice Lishla." He joined Reinald at the hearth as the elven apprentice started on the ubiquitous tea. Moments later, Ballorca was admitted to the chamber, carrying a large, oft-fingered tome. "Mage Mulder, I'm relieved to see you here." Implicit in his tone was his disapproval of Mulder's absence for the wedding. He bustled his way over to them and selected the most comfortable armchair. Perhaps intimidated by the Minister of Protocol's strict observance of custom, no one spoke until tea had been served. Then, "Minister Ballorca, I am afraid I am not as familiar as perhaps I should be with my part in the Ritual of Royal Birth," Mulder began. "I - "Actually, I was not expecting you to be familiar with it because almost no one alive today is." Mulder exchanged a relieved glance with Reinald. At least his lack of knowledge of the ritual would not point to his rather unique origins. "You see, by several quirks of fate, Andalor had no taabsut. Normally, Andalor's uncle would have fulfilled that role, but King Barnas always distrusted Drellor - with good reason, as things turned out. The next person in line to be Andalor's taabsut, Queen Mira's brother, died suddenly in a hunting accident quite shortly before Andalor's birth. Andalor's arrival was unexpectedly early, before an alternate choice of taabsut could be made. It is a weighty decision, and time did not permit. In such an instance it is permissible to forego that part of the Ritual. Permissible, but not advised," Ballorca sniffed. "I myself urged King Barnas to make a selection, but his concern for Queen Mira took precedence." His tone made it clear that he found Barnas' priorities misplaced. "In view of his tragically short reign, and the troubles that have beset us since that time, it is my belief that it is high time to get back to strict observance of the traditions and customs of the Realm. It reassures the subjects." "Of course. Well, what can you tell me about the duties I am to perform?" Officiously, Ballorca opened his book and withdrew some sheets of parchment. "In essence it is an embellishment of the ceremony you took part in to become Shannon's taabsut when she was born, which of course you are familiar with...." Uh-oh. Mulder looked over at Reinald. "... quite an embellishment, actually, rendering certain parts of the ceremony almost unrecognizable." Mulder began to breathe again. "You can read Old Realm, of course? Yes, what am I saying, you're a Mage. Very well. I will explain the Ritual of Royal Birth step by step, emphasizing your role. I have taken the liberty also of writing it down for you so that you may study it. I would strongly advise you do this as soon as possible. You must be ready when the time comes. I have given your servant my orders regarding the ceremonial robes. Because you are a Mage, the robes will have to be altered somewhat. Most unusual to have a Mage as Royal Taabsut. Unprecedented, in fact." The Protocol Minister looked up, his brows bristling, obviously unhappy with this further breech in tradition. He thrust the parchment into Mulder's hands. Mulder glanced through the sheets, almost black with writing. "I am Shannon's taabsut," Mulder said, puzzled. "But I'm unclear as to my relationship to her child. I wouldn't have thought I had any connection." Ballorca sighed with exaggerated patience. "You have a very great connection. In this instance, where neither King Andalor nor Queen Shannon has a brother - also highly unusual," he said, shaking his head - "then the Queen's taabsut becomes taabsut to all of her children by default. This of course did not happen at Andalor's birth for reasons which I have already explained. Goddess willing, Shannon will provide the Realm with many children, so we don't run into this problem again. Now, take the parchment as I have written it out for you. Lishla, bring Mage Mulder a pen and ink, so that he may make notes as needed. Please attend carefully." With that, Ballorca launched into an explanation of the Ritual of Royal Birth in minute detail. It was a full two candlemarks later that the Minister of Protocol finally bustled off to begin the preliminary preparations for the Naming Day Ceremony. By that time, a pale and shaky Mulder sat with his head in his hands. Chuckling, Reinald pushed a mug of tea at him. "Next time I come up with a plan to impersonate someone's taabsut, for Goddess's sake don't let me do it! Thanks, Reinald," Mulder said mournfully, accepting the mug. "Don't worry, my boy," the Mage said. "With your memory, learning the required speeches and the ritual should be no problem." "It's not the speeches I'm worried about, Reinald. I'm going to be there the whole time! Essentially, I have to deliver the kid, and cut the cord, and all the while, spouting some nonsense in Old Realm. Jesus!" He collapsed back into the cushions of his chair. "I should have refused to let her marry Andalor when I had the chance." Reinald laughed at that. "As if you could refuse that child anything it was in your power to give her. You'll be fine, Mulder. You won't be alone, after all. Kyla and Scully will be there, and also Lita, to read the child's aura." "What about you?" "Oh, no, it's not permitted. Andalor isn't supposed to be there either, although I think that Ballorca will have to lock him in the dungeon to keep him out." Mulder took a deep swallow of the tea, grateful for the much- needed lift it gave him. There was a knock, and Lishla went to the door. "Ah, Gunther! Come and cheer Mulder up. He's feeling rather intimidated at the moment." Mulder rose and shook the Professor's hand. "Gunther, it's wonderful to see you again. You look great." "Thank you, dear boy. You look- well, you look worried, actually." "I'm much better at the easy tasks - defeating Dark Creatures, finding long-missing Mages, banishing omnipotent black magicians. This time I think I've met my match." He smiled wanly. "You'll do well - you always do. This will be no different." He accepted a mug of tea from Lishla. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. I wanted to discuss your journey through the vortex with you." Mulder shrugged. "It seemed to go fine. What's the problem?" "You know that backwash I spoke of? Well, you came in quite close to it. We were expecting you a full candlemark before you in fact arrived, and you were supposed to enter into the courtyard. So both time and place were off slightly. Not significantly, but enough to worry a scientist. Did you or Scully have any untoward effects?" "Just the usual travel sickness - you know, dizziness, nausea, headache, a generally wiped out feeling. And a comparatively rough landing. Nothing really too much out of the ordinary." As if interdimensional travel could ever be described as ordinary. "Ah, well - that's good." But Professor Neumann's brows were knit in a frown, and he was silent. "Gunther? Is there anything else?" "Well... I hope not.... You remember I told you about a few problems we were having with the vortex, that business of 'flares' I mentioned." "I'm not sure I understood what you were getting at, but yes, I remember your mentioning it to us." "A flare is what Hannu and I have termed it. It's a slight... backfire, if you will.... No, no - 'power surge' would be a more accurate analogy. You see, we've managed some quite revolutionary changes in vortex creation, making it more compact, more focused and at the same time more energy-efficient. But we noticed that some attendant problems have occurred that we are at a loss to explain or control. The most significant of these is the flare phenomenon. Simply put, either the original vortex reopens for a few moments at some time after closing, or another, smaller vortex may appear. We're not sure about that yet. Where did you say we created the vortex that brought you here?" "In our office in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover Building. FBI Headquarters. And next time you might let me know to put away all the papers laying around. The vortex may be more focused, but Scully and I are still going back to a hell of a refiling job," Mulder grinned. Neumann smiled tightly. "I can imagine, sorry, yes. Well, the filing is the least of my concerns, at the moment. It appears that there is an excellent probability that there was a flare some time after you left - probably fifteen or twenty of your minutes later. Naturally, I am concerned about it. The backwash would have been in full effect by then. If anyone were inadvertantly caught in the vortex flare.... I mean, it's bad enough to bring someone unawares into the Realm. But I have no idea where or when in the Realm that person might have ended up." "Rest easy, Gunther," Mulder said confidently. "Scully and I are the FBI's Most Unwanted. Nobody ever goes into our office but the two of us. There's really no chance at all that the flare could have whisked anyone to the Realm." End of Chapter Four Chapter 5 The twin moons hung in the sky like giant, swollen pearls, a constant reminder that his particular Alice had stepped firmly into Wonderland. The wagon rolled unsteadily along the thin stretch of road, the huge horses patiently moving ahead. Their hooves made a rhythmic clicking sound on the solid earth, at odds with the abrupt jerking of the seat beneath me. Each time we hit a bump I felt it jolt up my spine like a red-hot needle piercing my skin. I was exhausted, I ached from head-to-toe, I was thirsty. And I wanted to go home! Except for a few moments in Vietnam, this was the closest I'd come to simply curling up in a ball and pulling the covers over my head, just wishing it all away. Well, nothing about this was easy - but I was not going to give whoever or whatever had dumped me into this nightmare the satisfaction of seeing me bawl like a baby. All that military and FBI training came in handy now - I simply gripped on the handlebar before me and held on for dear life. I could feel my jaw squeezing, clamping down hard, making the muscles strain around my gritted teeth. An incongruous memory stuck, my dentist warning me about the dangers of overstressing those muscles and tendons. Who would have thought the jaw could suffer the same agonizing inflammation as a knee or elbow. But it could - and mine now screamed with the stress it was under. Somehow the image of that white-coated, pearly-toothed man standing over me with a stainless steel instrument of torture in his rubber-gloved hand was suddenly a breath of fresh air. Normality. Familiarity. I closed my eyes and for the very first time in my life (and hopefully the last) wished that I was right there right now. Yet, when I opened my eyes, all I could see was the broad backs of the horses, the endless rolling fields sloping off into the distance, and those two damned moons. I was so tired. I swayed...and a firm hand steadied me. Tilting my head around, I found myself staring into the gleaming yellow eyes of my erstwhile companion. He peered up at me, the look of concern obvious, even on such a strange face. It comforted me, yet frightened me at once. What was this creature? He was intelligent, friendly - apparently. One of Mulder's 'little green men' perhaps? Though a flash of memory reminded me that Mulder's LGMs were actually gray. Or so he said. But still... had I somehow been transported onto another planet? At this point, it was as good an explanation as any other. Combined with the kindness of my little friend, that thought strangely calmed me down. He gestured towards the back of the wagon a couple of times, pointing first at my chest, and then at the curtain that separated us from the inside. Assuming that I had interpreted his intentions correctly, I nodded dazedly, and turned around to open the curtain. Oh God... blankets. Piles and piles of thick blankets. Nothing could ever have appeared more welcome, except maybe the sight of my own bed. Climbing into the back of the wagon took some maneuvering, for it didn't take much thought to figure out that this wagon had been made for people - uh, creatures - who were much smaller than I. But I managed it somehow, perhaps through an act of pure desperation. And the moment my head hit those scratchy, woolen bundles.... "No! No! No!" I screamed, shoving away at the insects and snakes that crawled over my body. I could hear the endless rustle of the jungle around me, punctuated by the roar of machine gun fire. The world spun around me, a cacophony of sound, a kaleidoscope of images. A sneering foreign face hovered over me, machine gun held in grimy hands. It shifted, cavorted, altered into the visage of a monster. I fell. Clutching at strands of light and gusts of darkness, I tumbled. Screams ripped from my throat until the gurgle of sound strangled on my lips and silence tore at my lungs. I fell. Images, whirlwind of light and shadow. Snatches of conversation. Mulder, fierce and angry. "Where do you stand?" My own voice, fought against itself to make him understand. "On the line that you keep crossing!" He couldn't understand. I wanted to reach out. My hand trembled, curled into a fist. I couldn't do it. I couldn't say the words. He needed so much that I couldn't give. But I wanted to.... Winds buffeted me and I was torn away. Mulder faded into a gray shape in the distance, only the anger and frustration remaining. That whorled around me. Tore at my soul. I reached for something... something solid to hold onto.... Light. A room took shape around me and I gasped with the relief of familiarity. Long and narrow, dominated by a couch and a computer desk. Books everywhere...Mulder's apartment. Strange, so strange that I would be so comfortable with the home of a subordinate. No, not comfortable, but connected. Mulder! I opened my eyes, called out his name...but the answering shape that flowed into solidity before my eyes was not tall and dark. Flame and porcelain, small and slight. Scully! Joy flooded me. Scully - ever the practical one. Solid, certain Scully. A zone of safety in a crazy world. I trusted her, even in a way I don't trust Mulder. Oh, I do trust him - and yet.... Mulder is too caught up in his cause, too blind sometimes to see the world as it is. But rational, cool, professional Scully... oh, yes. This one I could trust and rely upon. "Scully." My voice was hoarse, my throat raw with the very effort at speech. But surely she could help me escape from here. But where was here? I was so lost. "Scully?" But her face was taut with rage. So angry she wasn't even shaking with the emotion. Cold and bitter, her gun held with steady hands. The heavy muzzle pointed directly at my heart. And her eyes... She could shoot me. She would shoot me. "No..." the whisper in my mind wasn't spoken aloud. Couldn't she realize I'd never betray her? Not willingly. I've tried to protect her. To protect her partner. As much as I could. As much as I dares. Riding the fine line between caring for my own (oh, when had these two become 'my own') and doing my duty to my country. Her fingers tightened on the gun and her blue eyes blazed with icy fury. She would take my life in trade for Mulder's. In payment for a crime I did not commit. And yet, all I could think was how beautiful she was.... A flash of bright light, blinding. Shattering. I screamed and cover my eyes. I was thrown again on the winds of a nightmare. I slid to my feet, space tilting around me until it steadied into place. Gravity took hold and I opened my eyes into a haze of smoke. He hovered over me. As cold as Scully was, yet empty as she was full. Her life force had burned me, this one chilled me. I shivered despite myself. I couldn't hear his words, even though I knew the sense of them. I know I answered, but I know not what I said. It didn't matter...the whirlwind was loose again. A flood of images now. Vietnam and Washington. Agents and enemies. Words in many tongues, some of which I understood, some of which held their meaning as closely as a lethal secret. A grotesque figure rearing its head before me, eyes bulging, mouth twisted, body misshapen. I blinked and reared back, but there was nothing to protect me. I stared into the eyes of horror and found myself staring back at Me. I screamed... ...and woke to find a comical face staring anxiously down at me. His skin was green, his eyes yellow. I opened my mouth to scream again, sure I was still trapped in a nightmare, but his chatter startled me and I gasped for breath as a cool, wet cloth rubbed softly over my forehead. The creature chattered brightly, in a rolling, fluent tongue that reminded me of water trickling through a fountain. Bubbly and rhythmic, echoing light. It was soothing, though I could not understand a word. He - it - smiled at me, and the gesture was surprisingly comforting. Stronger than it looked, the being settled me down amid a pile of thick wool, refusing to let me sit up. I struggled for a moment, then gave in. More to the headache that struck me like lightning at the sudden motion, rather than at any impetus of his. Laying still eased the pain, and I finally accepted gratefully. He urged a small flow of a sweet, rich liquid into my mouth, and I swallowed reflexively. Warmth spread from contact with the fluid, and I gulped down the next mouthful. It wasn't alcohol; more like tea. But different from anything I had ever tasted before. Then my eyelids drooped. My surroundings faded into a gentle haze, and I slept. ~ ~ ~ I awoke again to the slow rock of the wagon along the road. Groaning aloud, I turned over on my side, fighting manfully against one of the worst headaches I'd ever suffered. I felt like I'd been run over by a truck, aching in every bone, muscle and joint of my body and the too-close memory of the giant cat reminded that it might just have been worse. A part of me still fought to deny the situation I found myself in, but my memories were too compelling and immediate to deny. Besides, the interior of that wagon and the agony pulsing in my shoulder were definite reminders that whatever was happening, was *really* happening. I sat up slowly, putting out a hand to keep my balance as dizziness threatened to topple me. I waited for a while - I have no idea how long - until I could sit without having to hold on to the sides of the wagon. Remembering my little friend, I carefully crawled forward and peeked out through the curtains towards the front seat. He must have heard me coming, because he instantly turned to smile at me. Actually, he wasn't quite so bad-looking; in fact, he was kind of attractive in an odd sort of way. Despite the heavy brow-ridge, there was an aware intelligence in those yellow eyes, and his manner was at the same time questioning, concerned and totally non- threatening. Well, when in Rome... I returned his smile, as well as I could considering how lousy I felt, and gingerly began to ease myself back up beside him. He gestured quickly towards me, bobbing his head in an odd sideways, upwards twist. I stopped and met his frustration with my own, but he settled it soon with a gentle shove against my chest. He wanted me to stay in the back of the wagon, and as the dizziness hit me again, for once I was not about to argue. "Okay, little guy," I muttered. "Why not?" I wasn't ready to sleep again, especially since my shoulder was beginning to burn as though it had been torched instead of clawed. The skin was bright red and my stomach sank deeply into my gut as I realized it was certainly infected. So far, my glimpses of what passed for civilization in this place did not lead me to believe that they might have something like a hospital or antibiotics available. I cringed at the thought of what the local equivalent of a doctor might be - some mad old coot with a jarful of leeches, probably. Besides, if I was the only human - how would one of their doctors be able to treat me? Who knew if our biology was anything alike? But wait! Mulder and Scully. The creature at least knew of them. And if Scully was here, she would be able to help. The sudden bolt of excitement made my heart beat faster, and I poked my head back through the heavy curtain. "Mulder and Scully?" I questioned, hoping that the names, at least, would stir some kind of response. They did. The big, round head bobbed again, in the opposite direction, then a surprisingly long-fingered hand pointed out over the fields to the left. Following, my eyes found themselves drawn to a huge shadow looming over the trees in the distance. The road curved around a small rise, and the shape came clearer with every lurch of the wagon. Towers formed of gray stone loomed upward into the falling dusk. My mind made faint note of the fact that I'd lost a day - at least - in transit, but the structure we approached soon grabbed every bit of my attention. It was a castle. A real, live medieval castle. Unfamiliar flags waved over the summits of the towers. A huge stone wall surrounded the structure like a giant belt. The buckle was a massive iron gate, embroidered with fancy golden gilt and edged with sparkles of silver. Two men stood beside it - human! - both dressed in dark green leather and holding long heavy swords out before them. My little friend pulled the wagon up short in front of the gate and spoke rapidly with them in that same flowing language. They nodded, and one made a smart, slashing gesture with his right hand. With a loud ratcheting sound, the enormous gate began to rise, being borne upwards with an unseen mechanism, powered by unseen workers. The castle loomed above us as we entered a long driveway, scattered outbuildings giving way to terraced courtyards as we drew closer. I stared around me, even as the wagon came to a halt. The exhausted, sweaty horses snorted and whinnied, calling for their dinner. Men rushed forward to release them from the harness, and I was grateful, yet again, to see recognizably human figures. I opened my mouth to call out to one of them, but the sound of their voices stilled my own. They spoke the same strange language as my little green friend, and I had the sudden, sinking feeling that while they might appear human on the outside, they could be very different on the inside. Numb and aching, I let the little guy lead me down from the seat. My feet protested loudly at being forced to support my weight, and I stumbled. A strong pair of hands seized my arm and shoulder, supporting me, and I squinted through tired, burning eyes at a stranger. A truly lovely stranger. A waterfall of golden hair cascaded down her back, weaving over her shoulders. Her eyes were darkest blue, wide and large, surrounded by perfectly clear, peach-colored skin. The bones of her face were heavy, but refined, each part welding into a whole that was far, far more than the sum of its parts. She was breathtakingly beautiful - and suddenly I was struck with the knowledge of where I was. Heaven. Where else could such an beautiful angel, dressed in a long white gown and soft brown robe, be found? Her touch was instantly soothing, the murmur of her voice a blessing to my ears. This was not how I'd pictured heaven to be, but right now I could hardly complain. Wavering against her, I let her lead me across the dusty courtyard towards a small wooden building. Once inside, she eased me onto a sweet-smelling bed. The thin mattress was set on a wooden cot, a cot obviously not made for someone of my size. My feet hung over the end of it, but at that point I couldn't have cared less. The world swam around me, vertigo making my stomach roll, even as I dropped downward into the embrace of those soft blankets and pillows. It felt so good tears came to my eyes. Heaven indeed - especially when my personal angel leaned over me, and gently sponged my throbbing forehead with a cool, damp cloth. My eyes flickered shut, even though I strained to keep her in sight. The vision of her, bright against the darkness, stayed before my retinas even when my lids fell closed. Lethargy stole any remaining energy, and the clear, rhythmic chanting of her voice was the last thing I heard as I slipped away.... End Chapter Five Chapter Six "More wine, Scully?" "No, thank you, Reinald. I'd better keep a clear head in case tonight's the night for Shannon. So where did you say Tarnor is?" "Jourdain, pass that along to Aldara, please .... The dinner party was in full swing as the friends once more sat down to dine together after the long absence of the Mage and his Companion. "He's on his way back home from a visit to his family," Reinald said. "They were thrilled to hear that you're back. There's an open invitation for you to see them." "Too bad we don't have time to visit this trip," sighed Mulder. "I think my digestive system has almost recovered from my last experience with gargoyle cuisine. Maybe next time." "Well, Tarnor should be here by morning, and if I know Afla, she's sent some of her home cooking with him, so you may yet get to have some of her fiery stew. I received a message from him not long ago by Oracle Cloud. He is so anticipating seeing you that he tried to convince me to Gate him here. I wish I could have accommodated him. Of course, it causes too much disruption to the magically sensitive in Fairwoods to risk constructing a Gate without pressing reason," he explained to Mulder. "Oh, I understand, Reinald. Gunther, you're very quiet." "Yes. Just pondering our little problem with the vortex." "Problem?" asked Scully. "You know, the flares Gunther mentioned before he brought us through," explained her bondmate. "Sorry, I didn't get a chance to tell you. Apparently there was a flare not long after we left. Gunther is concerned that someone could have been accidentally brought into the Realm." "If the vortex flare appeared in our office, I shouldn't think there's much chance of that. Unless one of our mysterious friends was in there planting a bug, there shouldn't have been anyone in our office to bring through. Even the custodial staff avoids it like the plague. They've reported us to OSHA, saying we leave potentially lethal substances around in there." "That's what Mulder said. Still... as you know, my dear, a scientist distrusts unexplained anomalies." While Mulder described the finer points of 'planting a bug' to a mystified Jourdain, Aldara and Reinald, Scully smiled confidently. "Well, there's no reason to worry. I'm sure you and Hannu will get to the bottom of it, Professor Neumann.... It's too bad Hannu couldn't join us tonight." "He's trying to spend as much time as he can with Shannon," replied the Royal Mage. "Once the child begins its journey, he won't be allowed to see her until the Naming Day Ceremony." "I would not say this if Ballorca were in earshot, but I wonder sometimes at the reason for some of our traditions, Reinald," commented Aldara. "Some are simple to understand; indeed, even make good sense. But some seem so- " There was a pounding at the door. Puzzled, Reinald rose to answer the summons himself. As he opened the door, a disheveled and breathless Pitir almost tumbled to the floor. "Quick! Kyla's cottage!" "What is it, Pitir? How do you come to be in such a state? Is it Queen Shannon? Has she sent for Kyla?" The little troll mage gulped and shook his head. Panting, he forced out, "Quick! You must come! A huge hairless human!" "A huge hairless human?" Mulder repeated, a smile on his lips. Then, suddenly, he and his bondmate looked at each other, horrified. "No - it couldn't - " "Jesus, Scully, you don't think- " The Mage and his Companion darted through the door, along the passageways and down the staircases, only dimly aware of the clatter of their friends' footsteps close behind them. They finally skidded to a stop in front of Kyla's cottage door, gave a cursory knock and went in. The Healer knelt over the low cot which looked ridiculously small for the unconscious form lying upon it. She was deep in a healing trance, a well-founded action from what they could see of the injured man. His clothing was in shreds and liberally bloodstained. Glancing at one another, Mulder and Scully took a deep breath and moved hesitantly to the other side of the cot so they could see his face. //Oh, *shit*! Scully, what are we going to do?\\ He felt her resolve as she joined Kyla, placing her hands with precision on Skinner's abdomen and left shoulder. In seconds, she had joined the chant. Jourdain came to stand next to Mulder, and whispered, "Do you know this human?" Mulder held up his hand, forestalling more questions and thinking furiously as the Healers' chants ebbed to a close. Scully spent a few more moments at the bedside, then rose and nodded at her bondmate. He gathered the others as she had a word with Aldara, then went to join the men outside in the herb garden. The sky was a crisp clear blue, rapidly darkening as the group gathered. "He is from your world, then?" Reinald questioned softly. "It's worse than you can imagine," replied Mulder grimly. "That's Skinner, our boss. Assistant Goddamn Director of the Goddamn FBI. How is he, Scully?" "It looks as if he were attacked, probably by an animal. Maybe a woodscat, from the appearance of his wounds. He's suffering from exposure, some sort of fever, has some bruises and a few really nasty infected lacerations, but Kyla has him well on the way to recovery. He's in no danger now." "Wish we could say the same for us. What the hell are we going to do?" The Professor looked more drawn and haggard than usual in the deepening dusk. "I blame myself for this. I should never have risked opening a vortex when we knew we had a problem with it." Mulder patted the old man's shoulder absently. "Don't blame yourself, Gunther. I can count on one hand the number of times Skinner has been in our office in the last four years. It should have been perfectly safe. It just... wasn't.... How long will he be out, Scully?" "I made contact with Kyla after we finished the healing chant. She'll try to keep him down for a while until we decide what we're going to do. Maybe a candlemark - if we're lucky. You know Skinner." "Yeah. I know Skinner," he responded dryly. "All right. I suggest we sit down and get comfortable while we try to put together a plan." They found benches close by. "This Skinner - is he to be trusted?" asked Jourdain suspiciously. Mulder shook his head hopelessly. "That's the problem. I really don't know, Jourdain. In certain things, yes, I think so. I don't believe he would want any harm to come to me or Scully. He's helped us in the past - and we've helped him. But I don't know how far his loyalty to us goes. The circumstances are hardly ordinary. Sometimes he can be such a damn hard-ass that- " "Haarrdd-asss?" Jourdain asked, pronouncing the unfamiliar words awkwardly. "Sorry.... I'm not sure there's a New Realm equivalent. Sort of like Ballorca, I guess. Everything by the book." "Ah, yes. I see." "Mulder, if he is in authority, then he could lead the Gestapo types right into the Realm," Neumann said anxiously. "The same soldiers that came after you and Scully that evening you disappeared from my lab with Tarnor. Or worse - the men responsible for Karen's abduction and death, who were experimenting with the vortex themselves." Scully looked thoughtful. "I really don't think so, Professor Neumann. I-I don't know why I feel that way, but I just don't think Skinner is capable of that kind of cold-bloodedness." "But you may not know what kind of pressures he may be under, my dear," Gunther said sadly. "Obviously, there are factions within the government that could make his cooperation with them unarguable." //He has a point,\\ Mulder said, meeting his bondmate's eyes. "All right, I'm open to suggestions. Anyone have any?" "Why not simply send him back through the vortex?" Jourdain said, shrugging. "Perhaps he'll think being here was a fever dream." They were quiet as they considered the Captain of the Guards' suggestion. Slowly the Professor shook his head. "This is my fault, and no one is more aware of the potential damage to the Realm than I. If those experiments are resumed, if those fascists start coming into the Realm, then life as we know it here is over. But still... I must speak against such a plan, for two reasons. First, we would be sending an unconscious or semi-conscious man through the vortex, unable to take any action to protect himself on the other side. It could be equal to murder, and I will not have any part in it. And secondly, time is still going through the backwash. It would take me days to do the calculations accurately in order to send him back to his own time. The slightest, most minute fraction off, and he could be sent through to the middle of the ocean, or end up years from his proper time. No, I won't be a party to it." "And I must concur," added Reinald. "As magic would necessarily be involved, I cannot condone its use in a manner that could bring harm to someone who has innocently become enmeshed in this predicament. No matter what danger to the Realm this man might present." "Point taken. And you're both quite correct. Besides, we have no idea how long Skinner may have been here. If he were caught in the backwash, he may be arrived weeks ago. Nothing that could be dismissed as a fever dream. Okay," said Mulder, sighing. "That takes care of Plan A. Does anyone have Plan B?" They were silent for several long moments. "What if... what if we could keep him in a healing trance?" he wondered aloud. "Scully, would that be possible? What if we could keep Skinner in a healing trance until the Professor can make the calculations? Then we could go back with him, to make sure he got back all right, and then try to make up some story to explain it all. What do you think?" He could sense the light shield that came down as she paused to dispassionately consider the idea, but took no offence. Both he and Scully had learned that sometimes in order to hear their own thoughts, they had to create some quiet space in which to do so. They gave each other that, freely. "What about Shannon?" she finally asked. "Naturally, I'd be disappointed not to be here when she had her child" //though not at missing the Ritual of Royal Birth\\ he added for her only, "but if I had to make that sacrifice to ensure the safety of the Realm, I'm sure Shannon would both understand and agree." "I'm sure she would too, Mulder. But that's not what I was getting at. Even a good-sized place like Fairwoods is not exactly jumping in Healers. There's Kyla, me, Sirisa- " "Unfortunately not," Reinald interjected. "Sirisa is in Yellowforks. The village Healer died there suddenly. She'll be serving the beings there until another can be found to take his place." "So there's just Kyla and me?" Reinald nodded. "We could send to Waterrush or Cresscreek for another, but it would take time." "Mulder, Shannon could go into labor at any time. I don't think Kyla and I could manage to keep Skinner in a healing trance for days, and also attend Shannon. Besides, I'm not an authority, but I believe there would be an ethical problem with that, as well. It just strikes me as wrong to keep Skinner sedated in that way." "Quite right, my dear," the Royal Mage said kindly. "I don't think Kyla would agree, especially if it meant it might increase the risk to Shannon or her child." "Well, if you can't sedate him, could you use the healing trance - or Reinald, could we use magic - to just... remove... Skinner's memories of the Realm? Just kind of erase them?" Scully looked at her bondmate in mixed exasperation and amusement. "Mulder, this isn't Star Trek. Even if Spock could remove Captain Kirk's tragic memories, I'm not sure a Healer could. And again, I think the ethical issue remains." Mulder looked to Reinald, who nodded. "All right, so much for Plan B," he said heavily. "What's our alternative?" "Plan C - tell him the truth." replied his bondmate simply. "It's a risk, Scully." He looked around at the stars which were beginning to wink in the sky, at the twin moons, at the hearth- lit windows of the cottages nestled in the shadows of the castle walls. "And just look at what we'd be risking." She sensed her bondmate's love for his adopted home, felt it as he felt it. In spite of some of the horrors they had seen here, the Realm was also the place where they found each other - and true happiness - for perhaps the first time in their lives. "I know, Mulder. But I don't think Skinner would betray our trust, betray this place or its beings," she said softly. "Healer Corvay used to speak highly of your psi ability, my dear," observed the Royal Mage. "Do you think that is what is telling you that this man can be trusted?" Scully smiled. "I honestly don't know, Reinald. I think that could be a part of it, yes. Plus the fact that Skinner may be a hard-ass, but I also think he's a decent, honorable man. I really can't believe he would do anything that could trigger a wholesale invasion of the Realm." "I don't either, Scully. But the Realm isn't ours to risk." She frowned. "Actually, I'm more worried about how Skinner will take all this psychologically. He doesn't strike me as the most imaginative sort of guy, and I know what a hard time I had coming to terms with all this. It isn't going to be any easier for him." "Oh, he may surprise you, Scully," Mulder said, thinking back to Skinner's confession of his near-death experience in the jungles of Vietnam. "I'm not saying it will be easy, but presented with the facts...." Distracted by her own thoughts, she caught few of his. "If you say so. So, that's our plan? Tell the truth?" The bondmates looked to their Realm friends. They were most at risk - it had to be their decision. "Short of locking him in one of the dungeons, it appears to be the only choice we have," commented Jourdain sensibly. "Are we agreed then?" Light spilled out from the open door of the cottage into the garden as Aldara joined them. "Kyla says to tell you he's beginning to awaken. I recognized him, of course. It's Skinner, isn't it?" Mutely, Scully nodded, then brought her friend quickly up to speed on their discussion. Although she had expected an argument from the fiery half-elf, surprisingly Aldara agreed immediately. "It seems that you may not have thought of the most persuasive reason of all for Skinner's being here." She saw their puzzled faces and shrugged. "Perhaps the Goddess has intervened. Perhaps your Skinner is meant to be here." She led the thoughtful, silent group back into the cottage. They stood in a semi-circle around the cot as Skinner stirred. The fire in the hearth popped and spat, and his eyes flew open. He tensed visibly, as his eyes swept from left to right, then suddenly focused back on the two who, despite their bizarre garb, seemed strangely familiar. "Mulder? *Scully*?" "How are you feeling ,sir?" "Feeling? How am I *feeling*? Where the hell am I, Mulder? What the fucking hell is going on?" "Uh - if you're up for a little walk, sir, Scully and I can explain on the way...." "On the way to where, exactly?" Then he took a longer look around him, his expression becoming more and more confused as he became aware of his surroundings. "How long have I been out?" he demanded. Scully cleared her throat. "That's a little difficult to tell here, sir. Maybe a candlem- ... maybe an hour or so." "An hour or so.... That's impossible, Agent Scully! I was bleeding when I got here. Bleeding, and there was infection, too. These cuts are almost healed now." Oh, God, thought Mulder. Here we go. He tried to smile reassuringly, not at all sure of how well he pulled it off. "It's not impossible here, sir. But there's a lot to explain." "You bet your ass there is." Skinner swung his legs off the cot, clutching the sides as a wave of dizziness washed over him. Kyla was at his side in a heartbeat, a surprisingly strong arm supporting him. Mulder went to his other side, and together they got him to his feet. Aldara had stayed in the background as much as possible, but now Scully sought her out. "Is Lita staying with Daanna?" she asked quietly. The warrior nodded. "Look, I don't like to ask, but would you mind running over and asking Lita if she would set up food and tea - nighttime tea - in our chamber, and get a room ready for Skinner near to ours?" "Of course.... Dana, he's looking at me strangely. Do you think he remembers me?" Scully looked puzzled for a moment, then her expression cleared. "Goddess, I doubt it. Even I had forgotten you'd met him before. He saw you only for a minute or two, in bad light in the basement of Headquarters. And that was months and months ago. Besides, there's nothing to connect you to our world. I don't think he'd make the association." Even as she said it, however, she felt some misgivings. Skinner hadn't gotten to where he was just on his looks. He had been a field agent at one point, and by all accounts, an extremely sharp one. Aldara looked at her doubtfully, then streaked out into the night. The Professor, Reinald and Jourdain had also tactfully withdrawn. Skinner stood weaving drunkenly between Kyla and Mulder. "It will pass," the Healer said softly. "Breathe deeply." Skinner stared at her blankly, then turned to Mulder. "Do you speak her language? What did she say?" "She said that the dizziness will pass, and that you should take some deep breaths." To Mulder's surprise, Skinner did as he was instructed, and gradually seemed to get more steady. "Who is she?" "This is Kyla. She's a... a kind of doctor, sir. She's the reason why your wounds are already healing." "Uh... would you please give her my thanks? And then let's get the hell out of here. You and Scully have a lot of explaining to do." "Yes, sir." Mulder spoke briefly to Scully and Kyla, carefully sticking to the New Realm language. Then, one arm around Skinner's waist for support, he led him from the cottage. The fresh cold air seemed to revive the AD somewhat and soon he shook off their assistance. "All right, where are we headed?" "Uh, just across here, sir. To the castle." There was only a slight hesitation in his step. "Of course. The castle, where else?" he said in a dust-dry tone. "Sir, I realize this is going to be a little difficult to comprehend, but - " "A *little* difficult? Agent Scully, you can't begin to know how difficult!" "Actually, I think I can, sir. Left here and up the staircase." The rest of the journey was completed in silence. As they approached their chamber, two troll servants came out, followed by Lita. "All set for you, Mage Mulder. I'm putting your friend in Queen Shannon's old room, just across the passageway. Tilfo, get started on the bed - the finest linens, now! Blafi, you lay the fire - a good one, mind, it will be cold in there." They bustled to do her bidding. "Give us a candlemark to get things settled and the chamber will be ready." "Thanks, Lita. Sorry for the inconvenience." "No trouble, Warrior Healer Scully. My, he's a big one! Tall as a Rax, he is! Leave the tea things where they sit when you're finished. I'll be in early to clear up. I'll lay breakfast in your chamber, if that's all right, and bring up his bath water when I bring up yours, Mage Mulder." His eyes twinkled. "That will be fine. Thank you, Lita." She nodded, her eyes never leaving Skinner until the door to his room closed between them. "Uh... just in here, sir." Mulder pushed open the carved door to their chamber. Skinner's eyes swept the room, taking in every detail - the whitewashed walls and ceiling, the mammoth dark wood beams, the flickering torchlight and the welcoming hearth. The bondmates noticed an additional armchair by the fire. As usual, Lita had thought of everything. "Sir, why don't you go down by the fire with Mulder and sit? I'll bring you some food - I'm sure you must be starving." Skinner appeared startled when she spoke, but absently nodded and followed Mulder. Scully cut him several slices of bread and scooped a generous portion of the savory stew into a bowl. Then, placing the items on a tray, she added mugs of tea for the three of them and brought it to the hearth. While Skinner ate, she and her bondmate sipped their tea in silence, debating in mindspeak about how much he could process at one time about the strange reality he had entered. Finally Skinner leaned back against the cushions, pushing his bowl away from him. "All right. Now does one of you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?" "Yes, sir. What do you want to know?" Barely keeping his temper, Skinner gritted out, "For a start, let's try where the hell we are." "We're in the Realm, sir." "And where the hell is the Realm?" Mulder frowned. "To be honest, sir, I don't know. As near as we can figure it out, it's another dimension - I think. Scully? You were the physics major...." "I guess I would call it more a parallel universe, perhaps." Skinner's eyes narrowed. "You're telling me that this place doesn't exist anywhere on earth? Where, then?" Scully sighed. "We haven't really ever considered the 'wheres' of all this, sir. It exists, and it's a reality we're unfamiliar with in our world. I can't tell you more than that because I don't know." "Why is it you two seems so damn familiar with this place? You dress as they do, you speak the language. How long has this been going on?" "Roughly... almost two years. The equivalent of two years in our world, at any rate." "Agent Mulder, that's ridiculous. In the last two years, I've been completely aware of your whereabouts. Even when you've taken off without or against orders, I've been able to find where you were eventually. Shit, I can hardly get you to take a vacation because you're always working. You expect me to believe that you can be in two places at once? Or have you been cloned?" he finished acidly. Mulder grimaced. "Not to my knowledge. I don't know, perhaps theoretically I have been in two places at once, I'll have to remember to ask Gunther. No, it can be explained by the fact that time moves differently here." He opened his mouth to continue and shut it again as he caught Skinner's frankly disbelieving stare. He wriggled uncomfortably in his chair. "Scully, maybe you'd better take over." "Professor Neumann thinks that time is not a universal invariant as is commonly believed, but rather like a river of gel, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down, and sometimes even flowing backwards. The first time we were here- " "The first time.... How the hell many times have you been here?" "This is our third trip, sir. Anyway, the first time, it appeared to us that we were here for seven or eight months, but when we got back we discovered we had only been gone a couple of days. Our second trip was longer, over a season-cycle - a year, sir - but in our world only a week or so had passed. So time isn't constant." "Do you honestly expect me to buy any of this, Agent Scully?" He shook his head. "I'm used to off-the-wall crap from your partner. I could understand it if he believed all this. What stuns me is that *you* seem to." Scully leaned forward in her chair and looked at him directly. "Sir, you know me. Believe me, I had a terrible time adjusting to the concepts of this reality. I thought I was going crazy, or had been drugged.... Nothing would have convinced me of the reality of the Realm other than pure, hard evidence. But we are here and this *is* real." Skinner looked from one agent to the other, obviously upset. He sighed and rubbed his face with a slightly shaking hand. "All right. Say - for the moment - I accept that what you've told me is the gospel truth. How did we get here?" "The vortex," explained Mulder. "See if this sounds familiar. Just before everything went crazy, you felt a wind which increased and swirled around you. There was a smell in the air - sharp, acrid. The wind picked up further until you felt like you were standing in the center of a tornado. There was a bright light and a sensation like you were falling. Am I close?" Warily, Skinner nodded. "Close enough. You're saying that this... thing... transported me here?" "Yes, sir. Somehow it seems to open a portal to this reality. Well, not just this reality, there's others. One other that we know about for sure, but potentially an infinite number more." "I suppose you've been to this other reality too," he responded sourly. "No, sir. That would have been most inadvisable. We did, however, encounter some of the beings from that reality. Not a nice bunch." Skinner growled, "Okay - let's cut to the chase here. Scully, can we get back?" "Of course, sir. Just not at the moment." "And may I ask why not?" he asked with exaggerated patience. "Because of the time factor. Professor Neumann says that there's a temporary backwash in the gelflow of time. It makes the calculations necessary to create a vortex extremely difficult, assuming you want to arrive back in the same time and place." His eyes widened. "You mean to tell me this vortex was created? It's not some sort of natural anomaly?" "No, it was created. Well, theoretically I guess the original one was a little of both, but we've learned how to create them. The one that brought Mulder and me here was created." Mulder added, "The one that brought you here, on the other hand, was accidental - a glitch. Believe me, it was never intended to bring you here. Your presence creates certain... complications." Skinner sat and considered what he had been told so far. "The... people here...." he began. Scully smiled. "..are not all human, no. Some are, but the other major types of beings are elves, trolls and gargoyles. They're all intelligent, and have their own highly developed languages and cultures. For the most part they co-exist pretty peacefully. I don't know if you've seen a gargoyle yet, but you will tomorrow." "I'll be waiting with bated breath.... That little woman you were talking to outside this room...." "That's Lita, our servant. She's an elf. Pitir, who brought you here, is a troll." Skinner shook his head again. "One thing you absolutely must know, sir," Mulder said seriously. "Most of the beings in this place have no idea where we come from. They're very simple, and such knowledge would frighten them. The people you saw tonight are fine - they're all aware of our origins. But very few others. You're going to have to be extremely careful not to let anything slip." "Seeing as at present I can't communicate with them at all," Skinner replied dryly, "I don't think that will be a problem." Mulder nodded. One of the first things he and Scully had debated on their way to the room was whether he should cast a language spell for Skinner immediately. With some irony, they arrived at the same conclusion Reinald had so long ago - that it was safer for now to limit communication. To withhold letting Skinner communicate openly until he had a little more opportunity to come to terms with the strange reality in which he had been thrust. He needed time to absorb what they had told him so far, and what they were to tell him later, such as Mulder's Mage ability. "Well, we'll take care of the communication problem soon, possibly even tomorrow. There's a few more things you'll need to know first, but I don't want to overwhelm you with too much tonight." "Too late." Skinner leaned his head back against the softness of the cushions and closed his eyelids. "... sir? Sir?" His head snapped up. "Sir, you fell asleep. Look, everything else can wait for morning. Your room should be ready by now. We'll bring you over there so you can get to bed." Sighing, he forced himself up from the chair and accepted Mulder's offer of an arm to guide him. Crossing the drafty hall, the little group entered Skinner's chamber. Scully pulled the bedcurtains and covers back on the bed while Mulder rooted around in the armoire that was a twin to theirs for some shorts his boss could wear to bed. He pushed them into Skinner's hands. "Head?" Mulder smiled and pointed to an inconspicuous doorway in the near wall. "It's kind of exotic, but I think you'll get the idea." "Agent Scully, thank you. That will be all," he said dismissively. "Yes, sir, sleep well. See you in a few minutes, Mulder." Skinner looked quizzically at Scully's retreating form and then at her partner. But if he were on the verge of asking a question, he didn't pursue it. He went into the lavatory and closed the door. Minutes later, he emerged clad in shorts and smelling of his own unique fragrance accentuated by the washwater. Asleep on his feet, he stumbled as his toes caught in the thick carpeting. Mulder half-carried him the rest of the way to the high bed and assisted him into it. "Sorry... tired all of a sudden....." "That's all right, sir. When you wake up, come on over across the hall - Lita will have breakfast set up in there. We'll talk more in the morning, and - " A soft snore cut him off. Mulder smiled. "Welcome to the Realm," he murmured, and left to join his bondmate. End of Chapter Six Chapter Seven I dreamed I was in a cocoon - snug, comfortable, enveloped in silky whiteness. I resisted surfacing into wakefulness, but nonetheless found myself yawning and stretching. When I finally opened my eyes, I wondered if I were still dreaming. White silken curtains surrounded me, the light pouring through them like melted butter. Then it hit me - where I was, Mulder and Scully's extraordinary story of the night before.... Now that my mind was clearer, I could start to process what they had said. A few minutes of that and I realized that my mind being clearer didn't help all that much. I think the thing that disturbed me even more than their fantastic claims was the fact that something in me wanted to believe them. As bizarre, as completely antithetical as all this was to the person I always thought myself to be, I found myself wanting to believe it. Indeed, a part of me had on some level actually accepted all of it - where I was, how I got here... and accepted it with a calmness that was so alien to me, so disconcerting.... The really frightening thing was that I was sure it was just the tip of the iceberg, that even more preposterous revelations were to come. My stomach rumbled, and I vaguely recalled Mulder saying something about breakfast in his room. Bracing myself for what the day might bring, I slid out of bed, forgetting how high the damn mattress was and promptly twisting my ankle as I hit the floor. Muttering a curse, I limped over to the table. Something was lying on it that looked like a piece of parchment with some strange figures squiggled on it. Probably a note, left by a helpful servant. It would have been infinitely more helpful if I had been able to decipher it. The fire had long since died out, so the room was chilly. My nipples tightened and gooseflesh stippled my skin. A robe, thick and soft as cashmere, had been left over a chair near the note. I wrapped it around me, did what I had to do in what passed for a bathroom here, and limped over to Mulder's room across the passageway. I knocked and was answered by a muffled 'Just a minute!'. Mulder and Scully, trying to make themselves presentable, no doubt. Shit, I had figured out that they were sleeping together, had suspected it for a long time. I appreciated their discretion, at least when they were back in the Real World. Here, I really didn't give a crap. I shifted my bare feet on the icy stones of the floor. This place obviously had yet to be introduced to the concept of slippers. Killing time, I inspected the carvings on the door to their room, evidently something from one of the legends here. Something about a man and a woman and monsters. Mulder, clad as I was, finally answered the door. "Good morning, sir. Sleep well?" He pulled the door back to admit me. "Extremely well, thanks." Scully was already seated at the big wooden table which was spread with food of all shapes, colors and consistencies. Her cheeks were flushed and she was trying so painfully hard to be nonchallant that I wondered what I had interrupted. "You're limping," Mulder commented. "Forget how far it was to the floor this morning?" "Something like that." "Come sit down, sir, and I'll explain what all this stuff is," offered Scully. I joined them at the table and she and Mulder went over what each of the dishes was and what it tasted like. The elven porridge was a happy surprise, the breads were wonderful - better than my mother's, although I'd never have had the balls to tell her - and a couple of the fruits I decided must be acquired tastes. I took a sip of tea and glanced up to see their eyes on me. "What? Have you slipped me a mickey or something?" I asked, only half-kidding. 'Just wait' was the only reply I got. Suddenly I sensed a warm rush and felt like I wanted to find that damned wildcat and fight him all over again. Or chop down a forestful of trees. "Jesus Christ, what the hell is this stuff?" "Daytime tea," grinned Mulder. "Great, isn't it?" "Should be a control drug. So I should assume what I had last night was nighttime tea, and that it has the opposite effect? Because it knocked me on my ass and I slept better than I have in years." "That's right. Tea is a way of life here. Picks you up, knocks you down, heals...," Scully said. "And Realm Etiquette Rule Number One - no discussions until tea is served." "I'll remember that. Although presently my ability to hold discussions is somewhat limited." I stared at them pointedly. Mulder nodded. "We'll get to that, I promise you. There's more that you need to know first. So what have you been up to since you arrived? Scully said it looked like you had been attacked." "I ran into some trouble a while after I landed." I guessed 'landed' was as good a word as any. "Some kind of wildcat that looked like a saber-toothed tiger. I managed to kill it, although I'm still not sure how I did it. I don't know exactly when it all happened. I was pretty disoriented at the time. The fact that my watch seems to have gotten broken didn't help." "Don't throw it away yet. Watches don't work here. Time is... relative, I guess," Mulder observed, shrugging. "And watches don't take kindly to trips through the vortex. The beings here aren't bothered much about time the way we are. Their way of measuring it is, to us, perhaps primitive, but it doesn't appear to hamper them. Things still get done. In fact, it makes things more relaxing." "Once you get used to it, maybe," I countered. "Yeah, it takes some getting used to," agreed Scully. "But is it any different than if you were at your cabin?" She had a point. Things up there were done when they had to be, or when I felt like doing them, not when some timepiece dictated it. "Good point. I guess not, Agent Scully." "Uh... okay. That's another thing. As far as beings in this place are concerned, 'Agent' has no meaning. Since titles are extremely important here, it might confuse or upset the beings to hear that one used. The etiquette is quite precise and rigidly adhered to. So for now, just drop the 'Agent'." "You have other titles, then?" I watched as their eyes connected and they were silent for maybe thirty seconds. If I didn't know better, I would have sworn they were communicating through the stares levelled at one another. "Yes, we do have titles, but we'll get into that a bit later," Scully said finally. "But we can't keep calling you 'sir', either. It would attract attention. What do you want us to call you?" I shrugged. "Skinner, Walter.... It doesn't matter." Mulder's eyes were lit with mischief. "How about Sergei?" Sergei. My despised middle name. Shit, Walter was bad enough, but with a middle name like Sergei, my parents had left me with no alternative. In the schoolyard I had heard "Sir Gay, Sir Gay" until I had fought every kid unwise enough to use it. That name alone had prompted an especially thorough background check when I applied to the Bureau. How the fuck had Mulder found out my middle name was Sergei? I smiled at him coldly. "I don't think so - Fox." His grin was relaxed and good-humored. "So I guess that means Wally is out, too?" "You know, Mulder, we're going to be leaving here eventually and going back to the Real World, and you'll still be under my command. Unless you want to spend the rest of your working life on wiretap detail - " "Point taken - Walter." I nodded curtly as my mind set up all sorts of scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last, of dealing with Mulder after all this was over. He was difficult before. Once we got back.... I really didn't want to think about it. "All right, now how are we going to handle this communication thing? Because I'm not too happy about being left in the dark." "There is a way... " Mulder admitted slowly. "But you need to understand how important it is that, outside of a few beings we'll tell you about, you don't do or say anything that will blow your cover." "Which is?" He shrugged. "Very nearly the truth. That you come from a faraway land, with different language, dress, customs. But nothing about the vortex, or alternate realities or anything like that." "I think I can manage that," I said dryly. "I have worked undercover in my time, you know." "We knew that... Walter," Scully replied, using my first name hesistantly. I wondered how much they knew about me. The tables had been turned. I thought I had the advantage of knowing more about the agents under my command than they did me. The evidence was mounting that I had been living in a fool's paradise. "Okay, so how am I going to communicate with these people?" "Beings," Mulder corrected. "Humans are people, but the others are beings, and could take offence at being called people. Nobody seems to object to 'beings'." He sighed, and looked me straight in the eyes. "The fastest and easiest way to compensate for your not knowing the language is unique to this place. A language spell can be cast so that you can understand what is said or written and others can understand you." I was silent for a couple of beats and then smiled, thinking I had misunderstood. "Sorry. I thought you said that someone was going to cast a spell on me." "Yes, that's right." In seconds, the acid in my stomach was being cranked out double-time and my head was pounding like someone was using a jackhammer on it. "You know, Agent Mulder, I think so far I've taken all this pretty fucking well, under the circumstances. But there's a limit, and I think you just stepped over it!" "Sir, we knew you'd feel this way," said Scully soothingly. "That's why we didn't tell you last night. This is one of the things I had the hardest time coming to terms with, and I knew you would as well. But the fact of the matter is, magic exists here. Magic, and other powers that are either unknown in our world, or acknowledged by only a tiny minority." "The lunatic fringe, no doubt. Mulder's buddies." "And you might as well hear this now, sir, because it only gets worse. You know those titles we were talking about? They're determined by occupation. And your occupation is determined by the color and quality of your aura." "What the hell is this? Some sort of a New Age Club Med?" I stood up. "All right, I think I've heard just about enough." "With all due respect, sir, not yet, you haven't," she said firmly. "Sit down, because your being here depends on your being able to accept this." My brows shot up in shock. I had always realized Scully was a formidable agent and an extremely strong person, but now she was reading *me* the riot act as if she had been doing it all her life. I sat down in stunned silence. In a gentler tone she continued. "You're going to see things here that your mind is going to tell you can't be happening. The only advice I can give you is to just accept it all. Don't question it, don't try to think of it in terms of our world, because the same rules just don't apply. If you can't accept it, not only is your sanity at risk, but you present a very real danger to this place." She stopped, I guess to let me process what she had said. I tried to put my brain on hold and find that part of me that had been so calm earlier. I don't know if I found it or it found me, but I grabbed onto it like a drunk grips a whiskey bottle. I felt my racing pulse slow and the pounding in my head diminish as I concentrated on that serenity, holding it, almost caressing it. I can't say how long I was in that state, but when I opened my eyes, Mulder and Scully were looking from me and back to one another in that weird way they sometimes do that makes me think something's going on between them. "Sir, are you all right?" I look a breath and let it out shakily. "For the moment. I think you were speaking about auras." Scully's glance at Mulder was puzzled, but she continued. "Yes, sir.... Now, our first trip to the Realm.... She hesitated and looked to her partner for help. "We were identified by our auras, sir. Through another being. Our auras are distinctive enough that apparently it was noticed that they fit an old prophecy. We were brought through to the Realm because it was thought, on the basis of our auras, that we could help them clear up a problem they were having at the time." It struck me that quite a lot of editing was being done on what he said, but I didn't take issue for the moment. "I'm at the edge of my seat, Mulder," I said with gentle sarcasm. "Bottom line? I'm assuming you're going to tell me something incredible about these auras of yours...." He nodded slowly. "Scully's aura - well, it's not that much different than what you'd expect. Her aura is bright green, which in this world indicates a warrior, but it's edged with the Healer's brown. As I said, not really much different than her being an MD in the FBI, although in this world, that particular combination is unique." I looked at Scully and nodded. "Okay," I said carefully. "That much makes sense, I guess." I turned back to Mulder. "But why is it I get the feeling I'm not going to like what you say next?" "ESP?" he joked weakly. I just stared at him and he became deadly serious. There was something else too, something more difficult to put my finger on. Something in his attitude, in the way he held himself - an air of authority, of position, of wearing the mantle of the kind of responsibility that comes with exalted status. "In this world, I am Mage," he said simply. I blinked at the unfamiliar word. "Mage - like in magic?" He nodded. "Not only a Mage," added Scully with a hint of pride, "but one of the most powerful Mages this world has ever known." I went diving back into myself to look for that serenity again, clutching onto it like Linus and his security blanket. Again, I don't know how long I was in there, but at least I wasn't hyperventilating any longer when my conscious self rejoined Mulder and Scully. "I know this is hard, sir," Scully said kindly, patting my arm. Absently, I nodded. Oh yeah. You could say that. "Perhaps a little demonstration?" Mulder suggested. He rose from the table and began walking slowly to the end of the room. I heard a crackling noise, like the sparks from one of those Van der Graaf generators. "Wanna shoot some hoops?" he asked conversationally. He turned around suddenly. In his hand was a basketball- sized sphere of blue flame. He closed his eyes for a second and the sphere started spinning. Without being conscious of it, I slowly got to my feet, my eyes fixed on the fireball, now balanced adroitly on the tip of Mulder's extended index finger. Serenity, don't fail me now, I thought. "Sir, you're looking rather pale. Here, you'd better sit down." Scully guided me into my chair. "I ask permission to enter your mind as a Healer, sir. I'd like to help you with what you're feeling right now." I guess I must have nodded, because all at once, she was just - there. In me. It was the oddest sensation. A feeling of coolness, of calm. A scent, like autumn - crisp, clean, a touch of flowers and ripe apples... wonderful. My muscles relaxing gradually, starting at my neck and working down, like I was having the best massage of my life. Even the throbbing in my ankle was fading, going, going... gone.... Some indeterminate amount of time later, I sensed her very gently disengaging herself, and I was on my own, just... being. I hadn't felt this good, this relaxed, this peaceful since my near-death experience in Nam. I wanted it to go on forever. Slowly I opened my eyes, glad to find in doing so that the feeling remained. Their eyes were on me, looking concerned, anxious. The fireball was gone. No one said anything for quite some time. "I- I'm...." Suddenly my throat tightened and tears came to my eyes. Shit, where was this coming from? I closed them again quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent a solitary drop from trickling down my face. A hand - Mulder's, I think - gently wiped it away. "This is.. a little... overwhelming. Just... give me a minute." I heard the sound of chairs scraping on the stone floor and moments later the click of the door closing as they gave me some space. It was almost funny. Sharon used to bitch at me for being too tightly wrapped. Well, if she could only see me now - the wrappings were coming off with a vengeance. Alone now, I made no effort to try to stop the tears that had been welling up since... I don't know, childhood, maybe. And the weirdest thing was, that even as I sat, my head cradled in my arms and the sobs tearing from my throat, I knew that they weren't tears of pain. It was deeper than that, more elemental. It wasn't about pain at all. It was about letting go. It was about gratitude, and yearning. It was about something bigger than the individual; it was about connection, and oneness, and trust. Gradually the tears stopped. I looked around for some tissues, which of course didn't exist in the Realm, so I used a napkin to make myself presentable. I know I should have been embarrassed - shit, the old me would have been mortified. But oddly enough, there was something... something in me.... Christ, it's so hard to put it into words. It was like all the calm, all the serenity had come to the forefront, having fought their way up through years of repression and isolation to finally take pre-eminence. Either that, or I was certifiably nuts. Go with it, Walter. If it feels good, do it. I was calm and back together when Mulder and Scully returned to the room. Before I could open my mouth to apologize - I thought they may have been embarrassed by my little display - Scully murmured, "It's all right, Walter. It can hit you like that. I know it did me - like a ton of bricks. If it hadn't been for Mulder, I swear I would have gone crazy. Are you all right now, sir?" Still avoiding looking at them, I smiled, a little self- conscious. "Actually, I don't think I've ever felt better. Thanks." I didn't say what for. I didn't think that I could say it, not in words, anyway. Nor did I think I needed to. Mulder nodded. "It's a lot to deal with. I've always been open-minded, ready to believe in extreme possibilities. Sometimes too much so. It didn't hit me so hard. But even I had my moments, believe it or not. All right. Ready to go on?" There was a wealth of meaning in those four simple words. What he was really asking was, was I ready to believe everything else this world had in store? Could I manage to accept all the mysteries around me, and not lose my mind in the process? Was I willing to trust that much? I nodded and finally met his eyes. I squinted, then blinked rapidly, wondering what the hell was wrong. "Walter? What's the matter?" "Sorry, it's my eyes. My glasses got broken, but I can see a lot better than I expected to be able to. At least I thought so, but.... You look a little... blue... all around you." His worried look cleared and he chuckled. "Evidently you're sensitive to auras. Think of what fun you'll be at parties now! Yes, my aura is blue, and that's what you're seeing. Not everyone can see them, even here. Go on, look at Scully - can you see hers?" I turned and squinted at her. "Yeah - well, the green part anyway. The brown's not too clear." "This is great!" he said gleefully. "That should help you accept the whole idea little easier. It's got to be easier to accept the evidence of your own eyes. We'll tell you what the colors represent. That'll help you to avoid social gaffes, although you wouldn't be expected to be a true adept at it. Humans rarely are." "And the adepts would be...?" "Elves, mostly," replied Scully. I shook my head wonderingly. "Elves...." "Ready for your crash course in New Realm?" asked Mulder. Although his tone was light and bantering, I could see the care and concern in his expression. His anxiety that all this wouldn't send me to the local equivalent of the looney bin. It was a side to Mulder that I had always thought was reserved for a very select few.... Surely Scully, maybe his mother. Seeing it there for me touched me deeply. I had never given either of them that much reason to like me. Hell, I was their boss, not their buddy. To keep them in line even to the limited extent I was able to meant that I had to try to keep my personal feelings to a minimum. And I had certainly, for one reason or another, had to make decisions that were unpopular with them, to say the least. To find myself admitted to their inner circle left me unaccountably shaken and grateful. Then it struck me suddenly the trust that they were both showing in me, gifting me with the power of speech in this strange place they so obviously loved. I, whom they had no particular reason to trust, who had the power to possibly destroy this world and their positions in it. My God, they were handing me the keys to the Kingdom. My eyes began to burn again, but this time I forced the tears back and cleared my throat. "I... I think so, yes. What do I have to do?" "Nothing. Just sit there. I'll do the work." He brought over a thick old book and set it on the table. He thumbed through it, settling on a page filled with tiny squiggles and beautiful illuminations. Stepping back from the table a bit, he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and began chanting in some strange language - different, I thought, from what I had heard thus far. His eyes on the book, his arms raised in supplication, he looked for all the world like a priest saying Mass. Except for the sparks dancing over his head, that is. At first glance it all appeared effortless, but by the slight tremors of his hands and the fierce look of concentration on his face, I knew it wasn't. After several minutes, the chant wound to a close and tiredly, he dropped his arms. "I'm a bit out of practice," he admitted. I had already assumed as much. "Mulder, I hate to break it to you, but nothing happened." He just smiled. There was a quick knock and Lita appeared in the room. "Finished with your spell now, Mage Mulder? Ach, but it gives me a headache!" "Sorry, Lita. I guess it's about time for introductions. Lita, this is Walter. Or you may call him Skinner, take your pick. Walter is from my world, so keep it quiet, okay?" She nodded. "Can he- " "Yes, I just finished casting the language spell." It beat me how the elf had learned English, but I wasn't going to ask. At least Mulder's conversation with her had put me at ease, knowing that I wouldn't have to bluff my way around my origins with the first person - er, being - that I had officially met. "I'm pleased to meet you, Lita. Your English is excellent." She peered at me as if I were nuts and Scully chuckled. "You're speaking New Realm, Walter. So is she and so am I, at the moment." "But - but it sounds like everyone's speaking English!" "Oh, some people do here," interjected her partner. "Gunther, the king and queen. All of whom are on the approved list, by the way. But you're experiencing the language spell." Jesus, Berlitz would kill to have this. All he would need is a magic Mulder. God, what was I saying? "Very effective," I said shakily. "Well, you'll find that idiomatic expressions in either language don't translate very well - if at all. But we'll help you if you get stuck." "Is that how you're able to speak it - a language spell?" "No, Scully and I eventually got pissed off at the things it didn't translate, and as we've spent considerable time here, we were able to learn the language the old-fashioned away." All business, Lita cut in. "Mage Mulder, I've brought up your water and Tilfo will see to preparing your bath. My duties are with Warrior Priest Skinner this morning." There was dead silence in the room. She looked up at Mulder, astonished. "Surely you saw it, Mage! His aura - golden, with a wide border of green. But I can understand that you might not believe your eyes. This is amazing, absolutely unique! Reinald and the king will have to know of this." Mulder nodded, gazing at me with fascination. "It just didn't register before, but now that you've pointed it out, it's unmistakeable. Well, Walter, it looks like you have your title now. Lita's an adept. She's never wrong about auras." A smug smile on her gamine face, the little elf sniffed appreciatively. Speaking personally, I was less impressed. Warrior Priest? I mean, the Warrior part made sense - I had been a soldier and now had a career in law enforcement. But priest? Shit, except for the funerals of fallen agents, I hadn't been inside a church in, what - a good ten years. And the last time I checked in, Presbyterians didn't have priests. Maybe Lita was having an off day. "Warrior Priest Skinner, your bath water is ready. If you would please follow me...." Mulder glanced at his partner, and there was mischief in his eyes again. For some reason, he seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face. "You'd better go with her, Walter. Around here, we all take our orders from her." I nodded warily. "I'll be back when I'm dressed. And thank you, for...." I trailed off. "No need for thanks, Walter," Scully said soberly. One look at Mulder, however, and she was having the same problem as he was. She did everything but clap her hand over her mouth like a kindergartner to keep from laughing. I nodded again and followed Lita out the door. It hadn't quite closed behind us when the two agents erupted into laughter. Okay... forewarned was forearmed. Once in my room, Lita indicated the large copper tub near the now-roaring fire. "One of my duties is to assist you to bathe," she said resolutely, her arms crossed in front of her. Evidently she was expecting an argument. Suddenly, Mulder's amusement made sense. He knew what was going to happen. From his reaction and Lita's, he had evidently found the concept of assisted bathing uncomfortable. Across the hall, they were probably waiting for the yelling to start at any time. I chuckled to myself. Two could play at that game. While I was in Japan on R&R from Nam, I had had the same reaction myself. Shit, what did I know, I was just a kid. But it hadn't taken me long to get to like the idea - like it a lot, as a matter of fact. Lita was watching me, ready for the same reaction Mulder was, I guess, though with considerably less amusement. Smiling brightly at her, I shrugged off my robe and slid my shorts down over my hips, kicking them away. "Well, let's get started then!" She looked relieved. End of Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Lita beamed approvingly from the doorway as I knocked once again on the carved door to Mulder and Scully's chamber. She might have been happy, but I felt like a damned idiot, dressed up for some bad Little Theater production of "The Three Musketeers". Thank God they didn't seem to sport large plumed hats here. I wore a loose white shirt, belted at the waist, with voluminous sleeves - the kind I usually associated with some of the wimpier Romantic poets - forest green suede breeches tight enough to be embarrassing, and high black leather boots. As if all that weren't enough, Lita had insisted on fastening a lightweight wool cloak in white at my throat, even standing on the table to accomplish the task. She kept apologizing that she hadn't had time to edge it in green. Like I cared. Scully swung back the door, her eyes widening as she saw me. "Walter, you look magnificent!" "Damn fool get-up," I growled back sourly. Mulder grinned. He was just fastening his own cloak, a floor-length affair in deep blue. I had been too out of it the night before to take much notice of what they were wearing, other than that it was strange, unexpected. But somehow, the outfit really suited him very well. I turned back to Scully, surprised that she too was wearing a shirt over tight leather pants. I guess I just always associated her with those little tailored suits she seemed to favor at the Bureau. In her Realm clothes, she managed to look both extremely feminine and very dangerous, with a sharp little dirk tucked into her belt and a lethal-looking sword slung down her back. "Are you ready?" inquired Mulder. "I guess I'd better play it safe and ask 'Ready for what?' " "Ready to meet the Realm. You can't hide in here forever," he explained reasonably. "Besides, what Lita said was true. You'll have to meet with Reinald and King Andalor. Since it's still pretty early, we'll go see Reinald first." He held the door open for Scully and me, and we started up the passageway. "And who is Reinald, may I ask?" "You may. Reinald is the Royal Mage. A rather intimidating sort, until you get to know him. He was my mentor when we first arrived here. Taught me how to control and use my gifts." Mulder must have noted my doubtful expression. "He's an honorable man, Walter. A bit on the conservative and rigid side, but I think you'll like him. You have a lot in common." I slid a glance over towards him, to see if he was being his usual smart-ass self, but his expression was bland. "I think just about anyone we meet in Reinald's quarters will probably be fully aware of our... peculiarities," he continued. "All except Lishla, his new apprentice. But better keep an eye on Scully and me. We'll give you the high sign if you need to be discreet." I nodded, turning when they did in the labyrinthine, tapestry- hung hallways. At length we came to an imposing door. Mulder's rap was answered in moments. The door swung open to reveal - Jesus! - some sort of creature. Small and gray, with big ears, a flat nose and the goddamnedest set of sharp pointed teeth I had ever seen in anything walking upright. "Tarnor!" Scully exclaimed excitedly. As Mulder and Scully indulged in an orgy of embraces with the thing, I had time to collect my wits. This must be the gargoyle they had spoken of. They might have given me a little more warning about his appearance.... "Tarnor, this is a friend." Mulder ducked his head inside the chamber and must have found the coast clear. "This is Walter Skinner, our boss in our world. He's here by accident. Walter, Tarnor is a Mage - and a fairly decent attorney as well." The creature looked at me appraisingly. I would have been more nervous, but my mind had seized on something. After Lita's incessant babble during my bath, I was finding that I could discern the difference between English and New Realm, mostly by its... I don't know, maybe 'flavor' comes closest. Now when Mulder said 'boss', he said it in English, yet the creature seemed to understand. But why should it have understood English? What the hell was going on? The answer was not long in coming.... "Hoow doo yiooo doo?" it - he - said, still baring his teeth in what I assumed was supposed to be a smile. God, the thing *did* speak English. But how the hell - Scully sidled up to me. "Walter, you're staring!" she whispered. I snapped out of it, not without a certain amount of difficulty. "Uh... I'm pleased to meet you, Mage Tarnor." He nodded happily and stood aside to let us enter. The chamber was enormous, but heavy draperies at the tall windows in the opposite wall blocked much of the light, making it difficult to see details. As I strolled around, the clutter was more apparent, with all manner of scrolls and books and bottles and jars and animal- skin bags of God-knew-what scattered around. From under the door at the end of the room to my right an eerie blue light flickered. "Reinald is just finishing up a lesson with his apprentice," Tarnor explained. For some reason it was comforting to hear him speaking in New Realm. He scurried to the hearth to start making tea. Mulder and Scully made small talk with him while I walked around the room, examining the strange objects. I noted that the books were written in some language even now undecipherable.... "That's Old Realm," said a voice in my ear. I looked over to see Mulder lurking protectively by my side. Scully was still chatting away with the gargoyle, looking more animated than I had ever seen her in our world. Jesus, what had I gotten myself into - a gargoyle, for Christ's sake.... "You can't read it because Old Realm is very different from New Realm. Fortunately it isn't used much - just for rituals, ceremonies... and of course, magic spells." I nodded as if everything were quite mundane. I found myself drawn to a round table in the center of the chamber. In the middle of the table was something bulky, shrouded in a blue cloth. My fingers itched to removed it, to see what was underneath. But I hesitated, partly because I was afraid of breaking some wizard's taboo, and partly because I thought there might be something under there I would regret knowing about - the severed head of the last poor bastard to find himself here accidentally perhaps.... Mulder smiled, his long fingers reaching out to remove the cloth. Frankly, I was disappointed. "A crystal ball? Isn't that a bit... trite?" He chuckled. "It's called the Oracle Cloud. Believe me, AT&T would pay a fortune to get ahold of it. It's how we stay in touch." "You - you mean people here can communicate with you through that? In the Real World?" "How else would we make our travel plans?" he replied simply. He covered the object and led me, stunned, back to the hearth where Tarnor was pouring tea. We sat down in the chairs that ringed the fire. "I am very glad to finally meet you, Walter... I may call you Walter?" he asked earnestly. I nodded and he chattered on. I'll give the little guy one thing - he wasn't much in the looks department, but he was extremely charming and intelligent. And even I could see his blue aura without having to concentrate very much. Christ, was everyone a Mage in this damned place? "Yes, the Professor has taught me a little English," the gargoyle was saying. "You never know when it might be necessary." If I hadn't glanced up at that moment, I would have missed the wink he gave Scully. A wink, by their reaction, I wasn't meant to see. "I wouldn't have thought you would get all that many English- speaking visitors here," I replied evenly. A dark gray flush stained his cheeks. "No... no, of course. But still, you never know...." A knock interrupted him and, relieved to put my follow-up questions at bay, he called out "Come!" Through the door entered a remarkably normal-looking elderly man. Already I was becoming so accustomed to everything being weird that the normal stood out in sharp contrast. "Ah, Mulder, Scully! I'm anxious to meet your friend." Mulder stood to make the introductions. "Professor Gunther Neumann, this is Walter Skinner." I shook hands with him, his grasp firm in spite of the gnarled joints of age. "Pleased to meet you, Professor Neumann." My eyes narrowed as something niggled in my memory. "Sorry, your name seems familiar for some reason, Professor. Should I have heard it before?" He looked a little nervously at Mulder and Scully, before assuming an air of nonchallance. "I really shouldn't think so." English again. "Tea, Professor?" "Please, Tarnor. Well, Walter, how are you finding the Realm?" "A little unnerving," I admitted, trying to avoid looking at the gargoyle. "Obviously you speak English. How is that?" "Well, German is my nat- " He stopped short, shrugged at Mulder and Scully and sighed. "I come from your world, Walter." Mulder and Scully were staring at each other again, their expressions mobile, but no words were exchanged - none that I could hear, anyway. I felt like I had suddenly gone deaf, although with the shocks I had had in the past few days, I don't know that a case of hysterical deafness wasn't in order. They seemed to come to some sort of decision - Mulder gazing questioningly at her and a quick nod by Scully - then she cleared her throat. "Gunther is from our world, Walter. He came here after our return from our first journey to the Realm. I guess you could say we inspired it.... " Lightly, Tarnor protested, "Well, if anyone was the inspiration, I feel I would have to cla- " He trailed off and clamped his lips tight. My head snapped so quickly in the gargoyle's direction I could have gotten whiplash. He looked a little desperately to Mulder, who shrugged. "Oh, Goddess! ...Well, you'll have to know sometime, I suppose," Tarnor sighed. "Well, you see, I guess I started it all. I dived through the Vortex to escape those horrible creatures and before I knew it, I ended up in the Professor's lab, and then Mulder and Scully came, and I saw their auras and just *knew* that Reinald needed to know about them, and then -" "Wait a minute," I commanded, my head spinning. "You're saying you've been to the Real Wo-, I mean, my world? You're the being that brought Mulder and Scully here? How the hell - ?" "It's a long story, Walter," Scully sighed. "We were going to get around to telling you, but - " "I know - you didn't want to overwhelm me," I replied dryly. Mulder looked as if he were about to launch into a long explanation, but the door to the other room opened. Their deep blue auras preceded the two figures who came out - one a tall, regal- looking older man with flowing white hair, the other a tiny female elf. "That was excellent, Lishla. You're making good progress." His head turned in our direction, then he focused his attention back on his apprentice. "You've earned a break. Your head is undoubtedly pounding after all that concentration. Take a few candlemarks to rest. Be back after the midday meal and we'll try it again." Saucer-eyed, Lishla was scarcely listening to her mentor. "Goddess! A Warrior Priest?" she blurted. "But that's impossible!" "Evidently not," the Mage said mildly. "Run along now, Lishla." She bowed to her mentor and puzzled, left the room. I found myself standing at his approach. The Royal Mage had real presence, a man clearly accustomed to inspiring respect, even awe. Mulder came to his feet once more for the introductions. Reinald surveyed me coolly. "I'm happy to meet you, Warrior Priest Skinner. Mulder and Scully have told us much about you. Please, have a seat. There are matters of which we must speak." He sat in an ornately carved chair that had been conspicuously empty and accepted a steaming mug from Tarnor, while I tried not to think what my agents might have told him about me. His gaze was nothing if not direct. "You are coming to terms with being in the Realm?" "I'm... getting there," I replied cautiously. "Gunther and I offer our sincerest apologies." The Professor nodded vigorously in agreement. "What brought you here was in no way intended, I assure you." "I realize that, Royal Mage Reinald. No apology is necessary." "Most gracious of you. Still, your being here presents a problem for us - two, actually," he began bluntly. "The first is our feeling of responsibility for your reaction to all this. I know that your world is quite different, and I remember only too well the difficulties that Mulder and Scully had coping with their discoveries here. I would imagine it is no less true for you. But selfishly, my primary concern must be for the Realm and its beings. We must have your word that your knowledge of the existence of this place will go no further - no matter what pressures may be brought to bear in your world." My eyes met his implacable stare unwaveringly. "Other than the existence of the vortex, I have seen nothing which would require me to divulge anything of your world," I responded, choosing my words carefully. "But the vortex and the possibilities for its use do present a problem." I leaned forward. "Understand, Mage Reinald, I have no wish for harm to come to this place or its pe- ...beings. But I have taken an oath, a vow I believe in, that I hold in trust with my life. If I think harm could come to my world, to my nation, I have a duty to prevent it from happening." "Walter - " Mulder began uncomfortably. "Stay," Reinald ordered his protege mildly with a wave of his hand. He turned back to me, looking less at me than around me. After several moments of silence, he nodded sagely. "Your aura is strong and pure, Walter." He chuckled a little and explained, "If I can see it, it must be. We will speak of this again, when it comes time for you to leave us. But for now I draw comfort from what I see. You are a man of honor, and great courage. But I see also a growing empathy in you." He nodded again. "We will speak of this later, when you have spent more time with us and know us better. I am sure that when the time comes, you will make the right decision." There was an awkward silence, curtailed by another knock on the door and the entry of a tall, blue-cloaked man with an aura as powerful as Mulder's. Shit, now I was becoming an aura expert.... "Hannu!" Scully and Mulder were on their feet to greet the newcomer to our burgeoning group. After an excited exchange, they introduced me. He was a formidable figure, built a lot like me, though apparently somewhat older. There was... there was a lingering touch of tragedy that clung to him like a cobweb. I could feel it the moment I grasped his hand. But his greeting was pleasant enough and his eyes sparkled with good humor. "Puleezed too meet yioo," he said. Oh God. Another one? "You've been to my world too?" I choked out. He nodded, becoming grave. "I spent quite a lot of time there. In spite of the strangeness, in many ways it was the best time in my life." I swung around to Mulder. "I suppose this was something else you were going - " "We *were* going to tell you, Walter, honest." "We'll talk later, Mulder," I said in my best ass-chewing voice. "Count on it." To my surprise, Hannu laughed "I don't think I've ever seen him looking that intimidated, Walter. Not even in the lovely, evil face of the Dar- " "Later," Mulder assured me, cutting him off. I could hardly wait. "Actually, I thought I'd find the three of you here," Mage Hannu continued. "I bring greetings from Queen Shannon, who is quite anxious to meet Warrior Priest Skinner." "How's she doing this morning?" inquired Scully. He shrugged. "She seems fine. Andalor becomes more worried as the candlemarks pass, but my daughter is calm and says she feels well. I admit to being relieved you are here, however, Scully." She smiled reassuredly. "She'll do well, Hannu, I promise. Well, Mulder, want to go see your halla?" The word didn't translate. I waited until we had bid them goodbye and were on our way to the Royal Suite to ask. Mulder practically galloped ahead of us, leaving Scully to define the term. As we walked in his wake, I listened to her explanation of the taabsut-halla relationship. "So how does Mulder come to have this relationship to the Queen, of all people?" There was a little hesitation before she answered. "She wasn't always the Queen. Shannon was an orphan whom he took under his wing. You'll see that she bears a striking resemblance to his sister Samantha, so I suppose it was only natural. We just thought we'd take advantage of Mulder's status here to offer some protection to her." Wait a minute. Mulder's status? Orphan? I frowned. "But Hannu referred to her as his daughter." "Well, we didn't know that at the time. Neither did he. And neither did she, for that matter." Frustratingly, the conversation ended as we caught up to Mulder and the door we stood before swung open to admit us. The Royal Suite was about the same size and layout as Reinald's quarters, but that's where the similarity ended. This room was bright, airy, and orderly, with gorgeous tapestries covering the walls and thick carpets on the stone floor. A blond kid of no more than twenty or so and a very pregnant girl about the same age sat by the fire. Scully did the honors this time. "I'm delighted to meet you, Your Majesties." I stood awkwardly, wondering if I were expected to bow or something. Andalor gave me a firm handshake. In barely accented English, he replied "Welcome to the Realm. And we're all just friends here. When we're not in public, call me Andalor, and you can cool it with the 'Your Majesty' stuff." He grinned. Sharply I looked at Mulder. Smiling, he nodded and I rolled my eyes. Clearly, the INS had a bigger problem with illegal immigration than it could possibly imagine. Was there anyone in this world who *hadn't* been to mine? I turned my attention to the lovely girl. Scully was right. I had seen photographs of the young Samantha. If the poor kid had ever had the opportunity to grow up, she would have been a dead ringer for the girl before me. "Queen Shannon, this is a pleasure." She smiled prettily. "It's just Shannon. Have a seat, Walter. Dorbo has tea ready." Tea again. Good as the stuff was, my body was beginning to crave coffee. "Great!" I said as enthusiastically as possible, and took a chair. Mulder was crouched next to the girl, holding her hand, his eyes anxious. "Feeling okay?" he asked softly. "Let's put it this way, Mulder - I'm not making any travel plans and I don't think you should either. I think I'm close. I feel... different." I felt a burst of something very much like panic emanate from him, gone - or rigidly controlled - a heartbeat later. Then I wondered what made me think that. How could I know what Mulder felt? "We'll be here, baby," he assured her. I was now seeing another side to Mulder - the worried big brother. The one he might have been in our world if Samantha hadn't disappeared without a trace. If his son-of-a-bitch father hadn't been up to his ass in whatever filth he was involved in. What would have been the result, I wondered. How would that Mulder have been different from the haunted, driven man I knew? I was shaken from my reverie as a troll servant pushed a cup of tea into my hands. We had been chatting amiably for about fifteen minutes when Healer Kyla came in. Her plain, monk-like brown robes did nothing to hide her tall, slim figure. My heart beat a little faster and, ever the gentleman, I stood as she approached us. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but it's time for Queen Shannon's healing treatment." She gazed at me with those remarkable dark blue eyes. I gulped, and my blood began to pool somewhere south of my belt. God, I couldn't remember the last time a woman had had this much effect on me! Get a grip, Walter, I told myself angrily. She's just a kid, barely older than the King and Queen. You could be her father, for Christ's sake! If nothing else, my self-directed ire at least prevented my already tight breeches from becoming even tighter and embarrassing me completely. "I would like to see you for a treatment as well, Warrior Priest Skinner," she continued in her low, musical voice. "After the midday meal perhaps?" Mutely I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak. "I'm going to stay here to work with Kyla," Scully said. "Why don't you take Walter over to meet our other friends?" Again they exchanged stares for a few seconds. It was starting to get on my nerves. Something else to bring up to Mulder when we had our chat. "Come on, Walter, we know when we're not wanted. Andalor, take it easy. Be good, Shannon." Kyla and Scully were helping her into the bedchamber. "Oh, yeah. Like I have a choice!" she tossed back over her shoulder. End of Chapter Eight Chapter Nine "Okay. Where are we headed?" I asked. We were outside on a clear, crisp autumn-like day, and for once I was thankful for my cloak. "We're going to see Jourdain and Aldara. You'll like them, especially Jourdain. You and he have a lot in common." Uh-huh. Mulder had said the same thing about Reinald, and although I respected the man, I had failed to see many similarities. We crossed the cobbled courtyard, our presence drawing the attention of throngs of street vendors and shoppers. Self-conscious, I hoped that it was Mulder who was the focus of the stares and fingerpointing. He seemed oblivious. Maybe he was used to it. We turned a corner around the castle to a quieter, more secluded area. I could smell horses, and guessed that there was a stable or barn nearby. The clamor of the marketplace gave way to an irregular metallic clanging. I looked toward Mulder, but he just smiled. Another turn, and the source of the noise became clear. A large bear of a man was swordfighting with a tiny wisp of a woman. Ferociously, they wielded the enormous blades, sparks glinting from the metal with every strike. So far the woman was holding her own, but - "Mulder - shouldn't we be doing something to stop this? Shit, he'll kill her!" "You should probably be more worried about him," he said, amused. He called out, "Jourdain! Aldara!" They put their swords down as we approached. "Ah, Mulder!" replied the big man. "Have you brought your friend for a visit?" They were breathing hard and despite the chill in the air, were covered with a fine sheen of sweat. The guy probably had an inch or two on me, and at least forty pounds. Thank God he was friendly. "Warrior Jourdain, Warrior Aldara, meet Warrior Priest Skinner. Or just plain Walter," he grinned. Jourdain extended his hand and I grasped it briefly. Aldara followed suit, a twinkle in her eye. "Play nice, Aldara," Mulder murmured, a smile touching his lips. She grimaced playfully at him and shook my hand. I wondered what had prompted Mulder's admonition, but that train of thought was lost in my surprise. For a tiny woman, she had a grip of iron. "Pleased to meet you Jourdain, Aldara." Alarms went off in my head as I said her name, and my eyes narrowed. "An unusual name, but I feel as if I've heard it before. Have we met...?" She laughed, her black curls bobbing and little lines appearing at the corners of her bewitching emerald green eyes. "I shouldn't think so, Walter. I'll get the midday meal started," she said to her husband. "Mulder, will you join us?" "If it's no trouble," he called after her retreating form. "And if it's safe," he whispered to Jourdain. The big man chuckled. "It's an old standby today, not one of her experiments. In any case, Daanna has done most of the preparation. I think it's safe." To me, he said, "Walter, since you are a Warrior, how would you like a little workout before we eat?" In truth, I felt like I could use some exercise. Between Scully's and Kyla's ministrations, most of the ill-effects of the previous days had evaporated, and I was accustomed to working out on a daily basis. Still, my experience with swords was limited in the extreme. "If you'll show me what to do, Jourdain, yeah, I'll go a few rounds with you." He smiled and attached what looked like leather guards to the blades. "You may use Aldara's for now. Later, I'll select a more appropriate weapon for you from the armory. Now hold it so...." I'm in pretty good shape, but it beat the hell out of me how that tiny woman managed to lift the damn thing, much less wield it like it was weightless. I managed to mirror Jourdain's position. Mulder meanwhile had withdrawn to a seat next to a little girl near the entrance to the cottage. He looked amused. Gritting my teeth and determined not to do anything to further his amusement, I turned back to Jourdain and nodded for him to continue. For the next hour or so, Jourdain put me through my paces. Initially I had problems, mostly because my arms kept getting tangled in my goddamn cloak. Once he showed me the correct way to fold it back over my shoulders, I think I did pretty well. I even caught Mulder with an expression of grudging admiration on his face. Or maybe it wasn't so grudging, I don't know. But by the time Aldara called us in to eat, my arms were trembling, my chest was heaving for air, and rivulets of sweat coursed down my face and poured down my chest and back. I hoped Lita had another shirt ready. It was a pleasant meal. I liked Jourdain immediately. Of everyone I had met in the Realm thus far, I felt I had the most in common with him. In fact, I envied him a little. Enemies and friends alike seemed clearly identifiable in his world. None of the plots within plots and all political bullshit I had to put up with. I liked Aldara, too. Still, I sensed the conversation was guarded, each word carefully considered before it was spoken. Aldara especially was humorously evasive, and I couldn't shake the feeling I had seen her before. Their daughter Daanna, a pretty little thing much like her mother, was curiously quiet. Several times I caught her staring at me with a pensive expression. The child had some Mage power, evident at the edges of her aura. I reminded myself to ask Mulder what the larger orange portion signified. As we rose to leave, I was dismayed to find I was already sore and stiff. Christ, if my muscles hurt this badly so soon after a workout, I was going to be in rough shape the next morning. "Well, what do you think?" asked Mulder as we headed towards the courtyard. "I like Jourdain, quite a bit actually. Simple, strong, honorable, down to earth. What you see is what you get. Beats the hell out of Washington." Mulder chuckled sympathetically. "Perhaps you're beginning to understand why Scully and I consider this place a home." His glance at me was appraising. I nodded and slowed the pace, my mind distracted. "Much as I would love to sit down and have that little chat with you about what's been edited out of all the conversations I've heard so far, I'm afraid it will have to be postponed for a while. I have an appointment with Kyla." I swung my right arm, trying to work the kinks out. "And don't think you're out of the woods yet, Mulder. We *will* have that talk... and *soon*. But right now... can you point me in the direction of my room, and how to get from there to Kyla's place? I'm afraid I really didn't get my bearings last night." "You're going back to your room first?" he asked, surprised. In spite of myself, I felt a hot flush on my cheeks. "I... uh... I just want to clean up a little before I see her." "Oh..." About forty seven different things could have been read into his rendering of the single word. I tried - I don't know how successfully - to keep my expression blank, my gaze direct. Evidently he decided to pass on the subject for the moment, because he merely said, "I'm not surprised you don't remember the way, from the condition you were in last night." He quickly gave directions back to my room. "...then retrace your steps, turn left out of the archway into the courtyard, bear left around the castle, and it's the cottage behind the herb garden." I thanked him and struck out on my own for my room. When I chanced a single glance back at him, he hadn't moved, and his eyes were still on me, his expression bemused. ~ ~ ~ I stood in front of the Healer's door for a few moments to compose myself. I guess unlikely as it seemed, I had more or less accepted the way medicine in the Realm worked - Scully's little demonstration that morning had been rather convincing. If Kyla was about to be crawling around inside my mind and body, I didn't want her to find anything that would end up embarrassing us both. I had already almost bailed once on the walk over. I plunged deep into myself to look for that serenity again. Some moments later, I exhaled and felt that I was as ready as I'd ever be. I knocked on the door. "Come!" she called out. I dipped my head under the low lintel to enter the simple cottage. "My predecessor was an elf," she smiled in explanation. "This cottage was not really built with humans in mind." "Evidently not. Good for business, though. Someone forgets to duck and you have more to heal." She laughed then, a low, throaty sound that set my blood racing. "I suppose you are right. I never looked at it that way before. Come sit and get comfortable, Warrior Priest Skinner." I sat, but there was no way I could have gotten comfortable. "Please - call me Walter. All this Warrior stuff is rather new to m- " I broke off suddenly, not sure if Kyla were on the 'approved list' or not. Again she smiled. "It's all right Walter. I know of your origins. The nature of my work being what it is, it would be quite difficult to keep such a secret. Humans from your world are slightly different - the... fizz-ee-oh-loh-gee, I think Scully calls it. As for the rest... well, Healers don't go prying and searching out secrets, but inevitably in the course of a healing, some things become known." She turned to the hearth and began ladling something into a cup. "Oh, shit," I murmured under my breath. Secrets become known, huh? Great work, Walter... just your luck to develop decidedly forbidden thoughts about the one person who can read your mind.... "I.. uh... I think you can skip the mental part of the procedure. My mind is just fine. I'm getting used to... all this." My hand waved in the air indiscriminately. She turned back to me and handed me a cup. I inhaled the steam rising from it and recoiled. "What is this stuff?" I asked grimacing. "Just herbs. They support the healing I'm going to do - speed it, nurture it. Drink it up." She waited patiently while I choked down the vile stuff. "May I enter your body as a Healer, Walter?" she asked formally. I hesitated, then nodded curtly. She placed her hands lightly on my head and chest. Moments later I could sense her presence... everywhere. Her essence was different from Scully's - more floral, more soft and springlike compared to the bracing crispness of Scully. More... subtle, I guess comes closest. I felt my muscles start to uncramp. Even the old rotator cuff problem in my right shoulder, aggravated by the swordplay earlier, ceased to ache. For sometime, I just floated.... When I opened my eyes, I was pain-free and refreshed. She sat near me on a low hassock, patiently waiting for me to rejoin the world. "What were you thinking of, Walter?" she chided. I started, and flushed guiltily. Oh, God, she knew. "Th-thinking?" "Yes, what were you thinking of, doing something strenuous today? You should be resting your body for at least three days. I can help you to heal, but your body does most of the work. And it can't do that work if you're going to abuse yourself like that. What did you do?" I hoped I didn't look as relieved as I felt. "Jourdain was showing me how to handle a sword. We practiced for a while." She shook her head, as if to say 'Men!' I knew that gesture - Sharon used to give it to me all the time. "Perhaps I did not communicate my instructions fully," she said, giving me more credit than I deserved. "No strenuous activity for at least three days. You have undone much of my healing, and Scully's." "How do you know Scully...?" She shrugged. "Healers leave... traces. She helped in your healing last night, but I detected fresher signs." "She... uh... she gave me a treatment this morning. I was still having a problem with... all this." Nodding, she murmured, "I can well imagine." She handed me some parchment packets. I shook them experimentally and heard a dry rustling sound. "I want you to take one of these tonight and another in the morning. Brew them as you would tea, and drink the liquid. Lita can assist you if you need help. I will need to see you again tomorrow. And no more swordplay!" I nodded meekly. In a gentler tone, she said, "I'm glad you're feeling better, Walter, but you must not push yourself. Your body and mind have been through a great deal of trauma in the past few days. I want you to be healthy so you can enjoy your visit here in the Realm." While she was chewing me out, I studied my boots, but I met her eyes when she said that. It might have been my imagination, but it looked like her cheeks flushed a bit. Imagining some of the enjoyment I could have when once more fully functional, my thoughts were once again straying into dangerous territory.... I stood suddenly, nearly hitting my head on a low, smoke- stained beam. "Thank you, Kyla. Very well, no swordplay. I don't want to make any more trouble for you than is necessary. I'll see you tomorrow, then." She rose with a shy smile. "You are no trouble, Walter. I very much enjoy seeing you. I'll be looking forward to tomorrow's visit." I guess I must have nodded. Absently, I left the cottage, barely remembering to duck as I went out the door. My mind was on things other than locomotion at the time. Maybe it was just that Healers had superior bedside manners, compared to their Real World counterparts. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on my part. But I could have sworn that what I sensed from Kyla was not the usual feelings a doctor has for a patient. ~ ~ ~ If I hadn't just received strict orders not to exert myself, I would have gone for a run. My brain was seething with questions, possibilities, impossibilities - with Kyla at the center of all of them. My calm had fled to wherever it hid when I wanted it most. Before I sank to the level of a hormone-driven adolescent - did she *like me* like me, or you know, just *like* me? - I decided I'd better seek some diversion. In my case, that was usually running or working out. Those options not being open, I walked around the village, staying inside the castle walls. I thought I might as well get acquainted with the place as long as I was going to be there for an as-yet-unspecified length of time. As I wandered, I hoped that Mulder and Scully had been right about the vagaries of the flow of time. Otherwise by this time all three of us would be AWOL from the Bureau and God knows what our Morley-smoking friend would be up to. I turned my attention to the street vendors, who were serving the last of their customers and beginning to take down their stalls. Catching a glimpse of something that looked familiar, I wandered up to the knife and sword stall. There, among the assortment of dirks, foils, stilettos and other weapons, was a twin to the knife Mulder had given me some months before. All this time I had possessed something from this strange world, and hadn't known. Typical of Mulder - it must have provided him with no end of amusement, seeing it there on my desk every day, knowing I didn't have a clue as to its origins. I passed on, watching the vendors packing their goods into horse-drawn wagons for the trip home. The horses were magnificent beasts, dwarfing even their human owners. And some of the beings I saw were... God, I don't know what the hell they were. Different. Not humans nor trolls nor elves nor even gargoyles, but... something else. But even more stunning than the variety of intelligent life was my increasingly easy acceptance of this reality. I wasn't aware of the passage of time but when I roused from my thoughts, the sun had dropped behind the high wall surrounding the village. I drew my cloak around me as the wind picked up, swirling the dust in the cobbled square. Spotting an archway into the castle that looked familiar, I climbed a winding staircase to what I thought was the right landing. Evidently all archways looked the same, because I was completely lost in the maze of corridors. I asked directions of three different servants and ended up in the kitchens. Fortunately I recognized Tilfo - or he recognized me - and he brought me back to the right passageway. I was about to go into my room when I remembered the chat I wanted to have with my erstwhile agents. As I knocked, I wondered what I'd be interrupting this time. Mulder answered the door and relief flooded his face. "Walter! We were just about to send out for the Marines to form a search party. Where've you been?" "Gee, Dad, did I break curfew again?" I asked sarcastically. "You know, Mulder, I *am* an adult." Then I thought about their concern for me and was touched. In a milder tone, I explained, "I've been walking, getting the lay of the land. I... I had some things to think over." He nodded, his eyes boring into mine in that way he has that makes me think he can see into my very soul, and closed the door behind me. Scully had made - surprise - tea and held a mug out to me. This time, I took it gratefully in hands red and chapped from the cold, and sank into a cushioned armchair. "Would you mind telling me what this world has against coffee?" Mulder chuckled. "I don't think it has anything against it, it just doesn't grow here. Found that out during our first visit. When we came back the last time, I brought my own. This trip was rather sudden, so I didn't get the chance. But I know what you mean - good as the tea is, it's hard to go from ten cups of coffee a day to none." I sipped the tea, the now-expected jolt kicking in a few seconds later. I glanced up to see him and Scully staring at each other again, and decided enough was enough. "All right, what the hell are you two doing?" They looked at me, startled. "Wh-what do you mean?" stammered Scully. "You're communicating, aren't you?" I was guessing, but they didn't need to know that. They exchanged guilty looks and Mulder sighed. "How did you know?" "Well, it was either that or I've been having periods of deafness. Your faces move, you change expressions - everything but spoken words. And it's not just here that it happens. You do it in our world, too, don't you? How? How do you do it? Is everyone here telepathic?" "No," Scully said quietly. "Certainly not everyone. Powerful Mages can communicate to some degree telepathically. But most beings can't. This is... this is special. Unusual, even for here." She seemed reluctant to go on. I glanced at Mulder, who was giving me one of his 'Later' looks. All right, but I'd hold him to it. "Okay, I'll drop that subject. How about all those things that aren't being spoken about by your friends? And don't bother with the innocent look, Mulder. I'm not buying that crap." He spread his hands in defeat. "All right. What do you want to know?" "For starters? Why is Neumann's name familiar to me? And Aldara's?" "Gunther Neumann is the scientist who disappeared from MIT about eighteen months ago. You sent us up to Cambridge to investigate his disappearance because he did a lot of research the government was interested in, and foul play was suspected." My eyes narrowed as I thought back. Right! I remembered now. "So he came here? This is where he disappeared to? Did you know that?" Scully nodded and went on to explain. "He was there when we disappeared from his lab. When we returned, he found us. He was fascinated by our experiences. Since the Vortex - the big one - was directly, though unintentionally, activated by some of his experiments, he used it to travel here. To answer your question - yes, we found out after he left where he had gone. Someone he trusted told us, gave us a letter he had left behind, saying what he had done." "Those must have been some experiments," I commented dryly. I made a mental note to find out more about them. "And Aldara?" She shifted uncomfortably. "Uh.. actually... you *have* met her before...." "But that would mean that she would have to have been in our world, and - wait! The girl with you - in the basement? Looking for her brother?" She nodded. "Jesus Christ! How many of these people have been to our world?" "That you've met so far?" Mulder stopped to think. "Just about all of them, I think. Not Kyla, or Lita or the other servants, but... yeah, I guess just about everyone else. In fact, Tarnor's been there twice." "Twice... Christ.... How the fuck did Tarnor manage to be in our world not once, but *twice*? It's not like he blends in." Jesus, just when you thought you knew everything that was going on.... "We kept him pretty much under wraps." He laughed. "Sometimes literally. The first time, he never left the Professor's lab. The second... well, let's just say we didn't use a lot of public transportation." I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Do I want to know what all of them were doing in our world?" Scully chuckled. "Probably not, Walter. Not right now, anyway. You look like you've reached your limit of shocks for one day." "You're probably right," I sighed. "Look, we're all invited to Reinald's for dinner tonight," announced Mulder. "You've got a couple of candlemarks before then - why don't you take a nap? I'll wake you in time to get dressed." "Good idea." I pushed myself out of the chair. "One thing - what's a candlemark?" "About an hour, give or take." I nodded and left their room, crossing to my own. My head was reeling. Scully was right - I *had* reached my limit for shocks. Telepathic agents... psychic healing... interdimensional gargoyles.... I unfastened my cloak and pulled off my boots, then crawled up onto the bed. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. End of Chapter Nine Chapter Ten The knock on the door was perfunctory, the merest nod to custom and good manners. "Warrior Healer Scully! Mage Mulder? It's time!" The snowy bedcurtains parted and Scully's head peeked out. "Lita? What is it?" "Sorry to wake you, Warrior Healer Scully. I know you were up late at Reinald's dinner party. But it's time. The child is on its way. Kyla sent me for you." She slid out of bed and began pulling on her clothes. "How long has she had her contractions, Lita?" Seeing the blank look, she reworded her question. "When did the journey begin? Another head appeared from between the curtains. "Is it Shannon?" Mulder asked anxiously. "Yes, Mage. Scully needs to come with me now, but you have a little time to prepare yourself. I've laid out your ceremonial clothes for the ritual. And the little minx - begging your pardon, I know I should not refer to Her Majesty in that way, but it appears that the child began its journey some time ago. She elected not to tell anyone for several candlemarks, so as to let His Majesty get some sleep. Initially he was quite cross about it, but now he's too busy worrying. Aye, you'll need you cloak too, Warrior Healer - the passageways are very drafty tonight." Scully tucked her shirt in and quickly fastened the cloak around her neck. She was almost out the door being held by an impatient Lita, when she suddenly turned back and rushed to the parted curtains of the bed. //Don't worry, love. She'll do fine - and so will you\\ He caught the hand that was stroking the side of his face and brought it to his lips, drinking in her confidence and calm. //If you say so\\ he mindspoke wistfully. She flashed him a brilliant smile. //I say so.... I'll see you there\\, and she was out the door with Lita at her heels. Mulder slid down from the high bed and strolled to where Lita had laid out his wardrobe for the night's ritual. On one chair lay a Mage cloak, not very different from the one he wore every day, except for the rich embroidery in threads of gold, scarlet and emerald, intricately and sumptuously worked. There was also a long white alb-like vestment to be worn beneath it. He puzzled for a moment over what else should be worn under his ceremonial attire, thoughts of kilts inexplicably coming to mind. Finally, shrugging, he pulled on a pair of warm, winter-weight shorts and his boots, then got into the alb and cloak. A glance at the fireside told him Lita had also thoughtfully provided tea. Feeling badly in need of the lift it would give him, he drank a mugful quickly, embracing the burst of energy like an old friend when it came. His hands trembled as he reached for the doorlatch. He closed the door behind him firmly - more firmly, perhaps, than he had intended, and the slam echoed along the passageway. Then he paused for a moment to try to collect himself. He could feel his bondmate, now with his beloved Shannon, and sensed a certain amount of disquiet. Not real alarm, he told himself, but definitely disquiet. Heart pounding, he was about to strike off down the passageway when the door opposite opened and Skinner appeared, pulling a shirt over his head. "What's up, Mulder?" His voice was rough and gravelly from sleep. "It's Shannon. She's in labor." Skinner almost recoiled from the waves of anxiety emanating from the agent's body, and mirrored in his expressive eyes. "Women have babies every day, Mulder. It's nothing to worry about," he said reasonably. "Shannon is not just any woman!" he protested heatedly. He closed his eyes and shook his head. In a gentler tone, he said, "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to snap. All this has me pretty rattled. Shannon ...she's special, Walter." He nodded. "I know - Scully gave me the condensed version. What are you wearing? It's different from what you usually wear." "The other reason for my abject terror." Mulder sighed. "Because Shannon's my halla, and she's the Queen, I'm expected to play a major role in welcoming the kid into the world." "Well, how bad could that be?" "Bad enough. Christ, Walter, I have to practically deliver the kid! I'm just so shit-scared I'll screw up, do something that will hurt Shannon or her baby.... Neither Oxford nor the Academy prepared me for anything like this, you know," he finished dryly. "Sounds like you didn't get full disclosure before you took on the job," Skinner replied, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "Damn straight, I didn't." The Warrior Priest shrugged. "Can I be of any help?" When Mulder stared at him incredulously, he grinned. "Come on, Mulder. I haven't spent my entire life behind a desk. I do come with some credentials. Did you know I delivered a kid in Vietnam? One of the women in a village we had taken went into labor. We were temporarily without a medic - the last one having stepped on a landmine - and I drew the short straw. It was a breech birth, but everyone survived.... You want more? I was also my niece's Lamaze coach. She... uh, she wasn't married and the father hadn't stuck around much longer than it took her to tell him she was pregnant. Her parents didn't want anything to do with her at the time, so...." Mulder's head spun. The image of his boss - his demanding, ass-chewing boss - as Lamaze coach. Fleetingly, he pitied the poor niece... But then, the more he thought about it, the less strange the notion became. He felt Walter's reassuring hand on his shoulder and suddenly - Suddenly peace and calm were wrapping around him like a warm blanket, slowing the breakneck pace of his heart and suffusing his very soul. Bewildered, his mind reached out to Scully, touching hers just enough to discover that the sensation wasn't originating with her. Wonderingly, he brought his eyes up to meet those of his boss. "H-how.... How are you doing that?" Walter was frowning down at his hand. "I- I don't know. I was just trying to make you feel better, settle you down a little, and.... I don't know, I just.... It just... happened...." Against all odds, it was Mulder who pulled himself together first. "I'd say you have more of the priest in you than you know, Walter," he said quietly. "The last time I felt anything like that was from a priestess, who used her empathic skills to calm a bloodthirsty mob." "Jesus." It was a cracked whisper. "I... I've been sensing things... feelings... more and more as the day progressed, but... I never thought...." The younger man nodded. "And the longer you're here in the Realm, the stronger those abilities will become." He finally stopped staring at his hand and looked into Mulder's eyes, a tangle of emotions reflected in his own. "But what if I don't want them?" The younger man gazed at him sympathetically, knowing well the turmoil he was going through. He had been there, done that. "I don't think that's an option." Mulder shrugged. "It comes with the territory. This is just who you are, Walter - in this world and to some extent in ours. Don't be afraid of it," he advised gently. Dazedly, his companion nodded. Mulder noted he was shaking, whether from the shock of his growing self-awareness, or from standing in the icy passageway wearing next to nothing. "Let's get you to your room and get you dressed," he suggested quietly. "You're in, by the way. If I'm going to go through that damn Birth Ritual, I want you there, ready to lay on hands every time I get rattled - which is going to be most of the time." He pushed Skinner back over the threshold and closed the door on the drafts. By then, Skinner seemed to snap out of his trance, going about the reassuringly mundane task of pulling on his pants and boots. Putting his own turbulent thoughts aside, he asked. "So why are you so close to Shannon, Mulder? Apart from her obvious similarity to Samantha." "Oddly enough, that has very little to do with it. Shannon's from our world, Walter. We brought her here, Scully and I." His head snapped up. "*You* brought that kid here?" He shrugged. "We didn't have any choice. Her mother was dead.... Remember that explosion at the research facility in Boston?" At Skinner's nod he continued. "Her mother, Karen Mather, was Gunther's research associate. She and Shannon were abducted by some of the Smoking Man's friends, to force Karen to recreate some of Gunther's experiments - specifically the ones that open the Vortex. We were there on another matter, and were drawn in. We managed to rescue Shannon, but not her mother." So that's why he was so protective of the girl, Walter thought. Knowing Mulder, he had put himself through hell repeatedly, beating himself up because he hadn't been able to save her mother. It was just so 'Mulder'. "So you brought her here?" he repeated, fastening his cloak. "She didn't have anyone else. No father, as far as anyone knew at the time. No other relatives. She was a rebellious kid, and severely traumatized by her mother's death. Eaten up with guilt. She wouldn't have lasted a New York minute with a foster family." He shrugged again. "We were coming here anyway, and planning to stay for a while. It seemed the best idea at the time." "And she chose to stay here? She adjusted to all of this?" "Surprisingly well. Not without a few little glitches along the way of course, but yes, she made a place for herself here. She too is a warrior, with a fairly healthy helping of Mage talent. But orphans are unknown in the Realm, because of the large, extended families. She needed the protection of some kind of relationship here. So we fabricated the taabsut-halla relationship. Technically, as far as most beings here are concerned, I'm her uncle by blood, Hannu's brother. I just didn't realize where all this would lead," he finished darkly, remembering the task ahead of him. "Midwife to the Queen," chuckled Skinner. "So how did she get to be Queen?" "Married the King." At his companion's glower, he smiled apologetically. "Uh, that's a bedtime story for another night. Right now we have to get to Shannon." He hesitated and became sober. "Seriously, Walter... I'm glad of your company. I can't think of anyone I'd rather have at my side." Skinner laid his hand briefly on his subordinate's shoulder, and again felt the serenity drifting through him to the other man. "My pleasure, Mulder." ~ ~ ~ Ballorca paced in the reception room of the Royal Suite. Would nothing ever go right? Surely he had been cursed. All his work, all his elaborate, painstaking preparations, and for what? Bad enough that nearly every priest and priestess in Fairwoods Domain, including the Royal Priestess, had journeyed to the deepest recesses of the Fairwoods Forest for the annual Renewal Rituals. Then, the one priestess chosen to remain behind in the event that the Queen gave birth had been called away to the country estate of a dying noble. She had left at dawn the previous morning. By this time she was already there performing her duties, a full day's ride away and inaccessible. There was no Mage there, so even Gating was out of the question. The result - no requisite priestess for the Birth Ritual. Then! Then King Andalor refused to leave the Queen's side. All of his most reasoned arguments and impassioned pleas had been swept aside by the King. Goddess, this was a *ritual*! Did the King not realize the importance of strict observance of every facet of the ceremony? I was patient with him, thought the aggrieved Minister of Protocol. I was understanding and sympathetic and patient, but firm. Yes, quite firm. And what do I get for my troubles, for trying to do my duty to the best of my ability? Just an angry King, shoving me away from the door, muttering words in that strange language he sometimes uses when stressed. 'Goh fok yiourseluf', it sounded like. Ballorca huffed. He had no idea what the words meant, but was fairly certain they had not been complimentary. So - two Healers where one would have sufficed. A King in attendence, which was unprecedented. And no priestess, which was unheard of. What else could go wrong? A pounding at the door interrupted his thoughts. Dorbo had not quite reached it when Mage Mulder and a newcomer burst through the door. "I'm here, Ballorca." The Mage started for the door to the bedchamber, his companion in tow. "Hold!" Ballorca commanded. Mulder sighed impatiently and turned to fasten an icy glare on the officious Minister of Protocol. "What?" he snapped, his aura flaring in annoyance. Ballorca cringed for a second, then reasserted his authority. "Who is this? He has no business in there. The Ritual- " "What about the Ritual?" The words stung like the lash of a whip, but Ballorca held his ground. "There has already been enough tampering with the Ritual. Two Healers, the King present, no priestess.... I can't allow your companion in. I simply can't allow it." Mulder looked like he was about to push past the little man when his eyes lit up. "In that case, Ballorca, you must certainly let him in. If you were able to discern auras, you would see that my companion is a Warrior Priest. A *priest*, Ballorca." "B-but the Ritual calls for a priestess," the fussy little man wailed. "Are you likely to do better?" Walter demanded. "Well, no," he admitted. "But do you know what you must do? Only the Royal Priestess would know-" "Out of the way, Ballorca," Mulder said in a tone that invited no argument. "I'm sure he'll figure it out." Hastily the minister grabbed his volume of Ritual, turned to the correct page and shoved it into Mulder's hands. "The passage at the end of the page. He must chant the prayer immediately after you sever the child's lifeline to its mother." A low moan was heard through the door. Mulder nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, we'll see to it. Now get out of our way." Reluctantly, Ballorca stood aside to allow them to enter the bedchamber. Flickering torchlight illuminated Shannon as she lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed and her hand squeezing Andalor's. She was pale and perspiring, her breathing rapid. Mulder tore his eyes from the girl and searched Scully's face. //It's going well, love. Kyla was concerned that she was in pain. Apparently the females here, for whatever reason, don't have pain when they're giving birth. So she thought there was something seriously wrong. I've explained to her that this is normal for women from our world. I think Kyla's a bit perplexed by it all. Normally a Healer tries to alleviate pain, but she's pretty sure she shouldn't if it's normally part of the process.\\ //But Scully, she looks like shit! She's pale and she's exhausted!\\ She stroked his cheek. //That's why they call it labor, Mulder. It's hard work. But believe me, she's fine.\\ //Just the kid's luck to have inherited this part of her physiology from her mother rather than from Hannu,\\ he mindspoke, still concerned. //She's handling it well, Mulder. For a first baby, the labor looks like it's going to be a relatively short one. But she's in transition now, and this is going to be the hardest time for her. She's going to need you and Andalor to be strong and supportive. And to not take offence if she calls you a few choice filthy names.\\ She smiled up at her bondmate. //What's Walter doing here?\\ //Filling in for a missing priestess. And holding me together. After all this is over, I have a few things to catch you up on.\\ He watched as a moaning Shannon braced herself for another contraction, collapsing panting back onto the pillows a minute later as it gradually released her from its grip. //Scully -!\\ //It's all right, Mulder. This is normal. Now, don't you have something you need to be doing?\\ Numbly, he nodded. As he prepared to utter the first of his chants, he noticed Skinner finally tearing his eyes from Kyla and approaching Shannon's bed. Tenderly he placed a hand on her forehead and leaned over to whisper into her ear. Visibly, the girl relaxed, the frown of fatigue and pain clearing from her face. Her small hand reached for his much larger one and he folded it gently in his grasp. The King flashed his gratitude from the other side of the bed, acknowledged by the Warrior Priest's calm nod. Mulder spread his arms and began the Old Realm chant in a light baritone. The chant, like so many of the ceremonial chants, went on for some time. He was peripherally aware of the actions of the Healers and Shannon's movements, as waves of contractions crashed, taking over her body, ebbing and flowing like nature's tide. But he also noticed the air of calm that had pervaded the room. Andalor's pinched features had relaxed, leaving him more controlled as he gripped his wife's hand and wiped the sweat from her face. Scully and Kyla monitored Shannon's progress, their movements spare, efficient, unhurried. In a corner of the room, Lita sat serenely, waiting for her part in the ritual once the child was born. Even Shannon seemed more in control. Where earlier the contractions had made her powerless and anxious, now she seemed to be surfing over the crests of pain, to grab a few precious seconds of rest before meeting the next wave. And next to her, Walter - cupping her hand serenely, whispering the occasional word of praise or encouragement... and somehow creating the air of calm that permeated the room and its occupants. He dropped his arms tiredly as his chant closed, feeling the serenity wrap around him like a security blanket. He felt a tugging on his sleeve, and looked down into the face of his bondmate. //You were miles away. Everything all right?\\ //Can you feel it, Scully?\\ he asked, a gentle smile on his face. She nodded. //It's like all the pain and fear has been replaced, the tension notched down.... Is that you?\\ He shook his head wonderingly. //It's Walter.\\ //Walter! But how-\\ //Priests and priestesses are empathic, Scully. *He's* doing it. I don't know how, I doubt if even he could explain how at this point. But the power has been growing in him since he got here. Incredible, isn't it?"\\ he mindspoke warmly. For some reason, he felt absurdly proud of his boss. //Well, it's certainly having positive effects on Shannon. The state of relaxation he's induced will speed things up considerably. Can you move to the head of the bed? Kyla and I want to check her.\\ He nodded and moved to stand next to Skinner. He leaned over and kissed Shannon's forehead as she breathed deeply at the end of another contraction. Drowsily, she smiled up at him. "Hi. How am I doing, Taabsut?" "You're doing great," he answered, his throat tight. "And you're making me so proud." He flashed a look of reassurance over at Andalor, then moved his focus to Skinner. Warm, placid brown eyes gazed back. "And she's not the only one who's making me proud." A slight twitch of his lips was the sole sign Walter had heard, then he turned back to concentrate on the girl. Scully glanced up over the mound of bedclothes on Shannon's knees. "I don't know what other chants you have, Mulder, but you'd better get cracking. We've got a baby coming, and fast." End of Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Lita brought a tray over to the bedside. On it were a stack of folded cloths, an ornamental knife and a couple of lengths of silk embroidery floss. She stood near the Healers, patiently holding it. Mulder once more opened his arms and chanted in Old Realm, as in the background he heard Kyla's and Scully's instructions. He let his eidetic memory continue on autopilot, chanting the unfamiliar Old Realm rite, as he watched Skinner and Andalor support Shannon's back as she sat up and pushed with all her might. She sank back against them, panting until the next wave hit, then once more leaned into the contraction. His chant ended just as Scully called out, "Here we go! Two more like that, Shannon, and you'll have your baby." The girl smiled for a moment, then a look of intense concentration crossed her face and Skinner and Andalor pushed her upright once more. There was a flurry of activity from the Healers at the end of the bed, and Lita spread a thick white cloth over Shannon's abdomen and chest. As the girl relaxed against the men, Mulder wiped her perspiring face with surprisingly steady hands. Seconds later, she was sitting up again, her face contorted with effort. There was a squawl from the end of the bed, and another burst of activity from the fully-involved Healers. A few seconds later, Kyla was laying a kicking, writhing, red-faced little form on the thick cloth on Shannon's chest. "Say hello to your son," she said, smiling, to the King and Queen. Mulder blinked back tears of relief and gratitude. He began the most important portion of the ceremony, chanting in a voice thick with emotion. Dimly, he was aware of Shannon and Andalor, cooing over their child, counting fingers and toes like new parents anywhere. He was aware of Skinner sinking into a chair, exhausted. And of Lita's wide-eyed stare at the child. Almost automatically, with rock-steady hands he picked up the knife from the tray, still chanting as Scully and Kyla tied off the umbilical cord in two places and held it steady. With a quick motion of the razor-sharp knife between the ties, the cord was severed and Mulder's melodious chant wound to a close. He was exhausted, he suddenly realized, and would have headed for the nearest chair, but he remembered that Walter had to be substitute priestess. He picked up Ballorca's Book of Ritual from the small table on which he had set it. Intending to spoon- feed it to Walter, he was bringing it over to the Warrior Priest when he suddenly stopped, his mouth gaping in astonishment. Walter stood, arms raised and eyes closed, chanting in a rich bass in Old Realm - *perfect* Old Realm. Mulder's eyes fell to the page in Ballorca's book, reading along as Skinner chanted, never missing a word, a single syllable of the age-old prayer. A prayer he had never seen before - in a language he didn't speak. "Jesus!" he whispered hoarsely. His bondmate's surprise didn't even come close to his own. //Did he practice that? He must be a quick study, he's doing great,\\ she mindspoke appraisingly. //Scully, I don't know if you're going to believe this.... He's never seen that prayer before, never heard it. We didn't even know he was going to have to do it until ten seconds before we walked through the door. And he hasn't missed a beat - he's been letter- perfect!\\ He sensed her astonishment as the prayer closed and the others in the room began going about their duties again. Andalor fussed over Shannon, while Kyla delivered and examined the placenta, and then gently bathed the Queen. Walter sat sprawled in an armchair, his eyes closed, his hands trembling slightly. Lita had taken the child to give him his first bath. The squawls of the aggrieved infant made it clear he was not enjoying the experience. Moments later, a cleaner and happier baby, swaddled in soft, warm blankets, was placed in his mother's arms. //Do you see what I see?\\ Mulder asked his Companion. Apparently there was no be no end to the surprises today. Eyes fixed on the child, she nodded mutely. Kyla assisted Shannon to maneuver the baby to her breast, where it began nursing vigorously. The new mother's look of delight was replaced moments later by startled concern. Chuckling, Kyla slipped a thick cloth under the Queen's nightdress. "Just press your nipple," she whispered. "The leaking will stop." Shannon glanced gratefully up at the Healer. "Thanks. I'm kind of new at this," she said shyly. "You did fantastically, Your Majesty. And you have a beautiful, healthy son." Lita cleared her throat and everyone in the room focused their attention on her. Her part of the ceremony had begun. It was less formal, with no set speech. "Normally at this time, I would perform an aura reading," she announced. "While newborns rarely have an aura, and aura reading is not generally done for ones so young for that reason, an exception is made for newly-arrived Royals, in accordance with our traditions." Her eyes swept the assembly. "There is no need for me to go through the motions of setting up the black and white fields necessary for a reading. The aura-sensitive among you already know. Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully, and I believe Warrior Priest Skinner have already seen it." She glanced at Skinner and received a quick nod in confirmation. "An aura of this magnitude, this clarity and quality is almost unheard of in a child this young. King Andalor, Queen Shannon... I can say without a shadow of a doubt... your son possesses the potential for incredible Mage talent." The proud parents gasped. Although both were aura-sensitive to a degree, in their excitement they simply hadn't noticed. "The return of the Mage Kings," Andalor murmured, awed. He gazed down at his wife, who was drowsily stroking their son's soft dark hair. "Thank you, Lita, thank you Healers, Mage Mulder, Warrior Priest Skinner. You have all done a service today to the Realm, and a personal service to Shannon and myself. It won't be forgotten, my friends. But now... if you don't mind...." Kyla smiled. "...you'd like to be alone for a while with your wife and son. Very understandable, Your Majesty. Healer Scully and I will be in the reception room. We will need to check Her Majesty and the Prince frequently for the next several candlemarks." "Thank you, Healer Kyla. We'd like just a few moments alone. Mage Mulder, if you will please tell Ballorca our news so that he may send out the runners...." "Of course, Andalor." Mulder saw that once again, the young king's concentration was wholly focused on his wife and child. They all withdrew to the reception room, where an anxious Ballorca and Hannu were pacing. Smiling, Mulder strode up to Hannu and offered his hand. "Congratulations, Granddad. You have a grandson." The Mage exhaled and a smile lit his normally dark features. "Shannon?" "Shannon is radiant. She did a wonderful job. And apparently your grandson is a chip off the old block." In answer to Hannu's questioning look, he replied with a twinkle in his eye, "Mage talent. The kid's loaded with it." Hannu chuckled. "A mixed blessing, at best. Wait until Reinald hears we have another student." Ballorca danced impatiently at Mulder's elbow. "A boy - a Royal Heir! The child - is he strong? And the Ritual - it was observed? Everything? The prayer?" "The child is strong - fat and sassy. And everything was done, Ballorca. Everything went surprisingly well - perfect, in fact." The words were meant for the Minister of Protocol, but no less for Walter, fixed in Mulder's gaze. "Thank you, Mage Mulder. Oh, thank you. Forgive me if I was rude before, but I -" "It's all right, Minister Ballorca. I understand. But if you would please excuse us, we're quite tired." "Quite so, Mage. Well, I have runners to send out, and a Naming Day Ceremony to plan. Our subjects must know of this glorious news!" Mulder nodded, smiling. Lita had departed for the kitchens some minutes before. No doubt, runners would be superfluous. Lita would have already seen to it that the news spread quickly enough. They said their farewells to Hannu and made their way slowly back to their passageway. Outside, the sun was just rising over frosted fields. Now that the excitement of the night was over, both men felt the drag of exhaustion relentlessly pulling at them. As they arrived at Mulder's room, they met Tilfo coming from the opposite direction, bearing a large tray. "Lita asked me to bring you breakfast. She said you'd been up most of the night and would need a good meal... with nighttime tea. She assumed you would want to retire after you dine." Mulder looked questioningly at Walter. "I could eat," admitted the Warrior Priest, and Mulder opened the door for the troll servant. They settled comfortably by the fire and let Tilfo bring them trays. They ate in silence. When they were finished and sipping their tea, finally Walter spoke. "What's happening to me, Mulder?" he asked bleakly. "I don't know Old Realm, I don't know shit from shinola about the rituals and religion of this place. How the hell did I know what to say, what to do? I'm losing myself, Mulder. I'm not me anymore." Mulder thought for a moment before responding, knowing he owed the man the truth rather than meaningless platitudes. "Scully felt the same way, and to a lesser extent, so did I. I can't tell you how to deal with it, Walter, I wouldn't presume to. But I can tell you how Scully and I did. I accepted it more easily, but Scully had real problems, as you can imagine. Here she is, her whole career, her whole life based on scientific principles and laws, and all of a sudden she's thrust into a place where magic and psychic healing are the norm. Not only that, but where, in total defiance of all that's logical, psychic healing is effective *and* her aura shows she's expected to practice it. I was worried about her, Walter - very worried. It really looked for a while like she was going to crack up." "Then how did she come to terms with it?" Skinner added dryly, "Presumptuous or not, I'll take any tips you can give me at this point. I don't think I'm that far from cracking myself." He shrugged. "Part of it may have been that we had very little choice. We weren't sure for a long time that we *could* get back to our world. We were faced with trying to make the best of it, so it was only logical to accept it." He chuckled suddenly. "The logic appealed to Scully, as you can imagine. Another part of it was that she saw how well psychic healing worked, proved it to herself. That was clear evidence, something that she could grab onto, to anchor her. We also had come here at a time of great peril for the Realm, literally a war for its survival. Healers were needed badly. The carnage was... indescribable...." He pulled himself back from his memories of those dark days to gaze at his friend. "Scully's natural instinct is to want to make the hurt go away, by whatever means at her disposal. God knows she had enough opportunity during that war." Mulder paused for a moment, then slowly continued. "I can't tell you what to do, Walter. All I can say is that you *are* the same person you were in our world. Your gifts won't change what makes you *you*. They're just an added bonus. Something that was always there, beneath the surface. Think about it - over the past two years, have you noticed any huge changes in Scully or myself?" "Actually, yes," he replied. "You've been happier. Maybe less frustrated. Even more of a team, a stronger partnership. And of course there's that communication thing that you do." Mulder nodded. "We'll get to that later - I haven't forgotten my promise. But, any essential differences? Acting completely out of character for the people you know as Mulder and Scully?" "Tough to tell, in your case," Walter replied dryly. He sighed. "No, not really. You both do exactly what I'd expect. Not what I'd want, necessarily, but what I'd expect. You're still you. All right, point taken." He hesitated. "Do you - do you use magic in our world?" Mulder made an equivocal gesture. "But it's harder. Much harder. Some things work, others don't. Same thing with Scully's psychic healing. Some things she can heal, others she can't. But it takes much more effort, much more energy and concentration than it does here. Try to think of your gifts as latent talents, Walter. Lying dormant until activated by coming here. They existed in our world - you just didn't know how to recognize them." "Oh, come on, Mulder," he replied, shaking his head, a small incredulous smile on his lips. "Did I ever strike you as priestly in our world?" His eyes twinkled. "To be honest, no. You always seemed more like Scully's descriptions of Sister Mary Agnes, her old nemesis from parochial school." Skinner chuckled, but quickly sobered. "So you don't see any big change in me, then?" "I wouldn't say that, I do see changes.... I see growth, and fulfillment, and even peace, from time to time. All pluses. But essentially? No - you're you. In spite of our differences at times, Walter, I have always respected you - your experience, your sense of honor and integrity. None of that has changed." He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands folded loosely between his knees. "Walter - can you honestly say you wouldn't welcome the sense of calm and serenity that you created for all of us tonight? That the ability to create such a mood wouldn't be a wonderful gift?" "No... no, I can't say that." He fell silent, lost in his own thoughts. Out in the courtyard below, they heard cheering as word of the Heir's birth spread. Skinner shook himself out of his funk. "All right, what about you and Scully, your communication? She didn't seem to want to talk about it." "Well, it's an intensely personal thing... but I don't mind sharing it with you, Walter. Uh... that was difficult, probably moreso for me than for her." Mulder sat back and stretched his feet closer to the fire. "We're lifebonded - fated, if you like, to be together. Seemingly unknown in our world, and rare enough in this one. It scared the shit out of me, to tell you the truth. But it explained so much, Walter. You know how I was after Scully had been abducted?" Skinner nodded, his eyes downcast. "I was watching you come apart before my eyes. I thought you'd eat a bullet, Mulder, I really did. It was horrible." "Very perceptive of you. Yeah. I came close - very close. And it wasn't just Spooky Mulder being spooky. It was more than that. When two people are lifebonded, they...." He sighed. "Singly, each is less than a full person. Only by being with the other are they a whole. I was looking at not only the loss of Scully, but at the loss of the better part of myself as well. I didn't know that at the time, it was well before we first came here. But when we got here and all this was finally explained to me, everything fell into place. And God... I almost lost it. Faced with what the loss of Scully would mean to me. Confirmation of what I had always felt. You see, the downside of being lifebonded is that, so close is the bond, the death of one usually means the death of the other. Not just emotionally, but physically as well." "Christ...." Skinner felt the words as a physical blow. The thought that some day, he might have to bear the loss of not one but both of his agents - now, his friends. He glanced up, and saw Mulder's grim features. Quickly he shook off his feelings of loss, afraid that he might have unintentionally been passing them on as he had his serenity earlier. "So how did you resolve it?" Mulder smiled tightly. "Just made up my mind that the benefits outweighed the potential dangers. We found we were telepathic - that was one of the things that tipped us off to the existence of the lifebond. It was only after we acknowledged it that we were taught how to consciously drop a shield in order *not* to have the other in our minds." "That means you can tell where Scully is, what she's doing? Right now?" Mulder closed his eyes for a second. "She's on her way to Kyla's, to bring some herbs back for a potion for Shannon. She's feeling happy, but very tired. She's thinking of- " He smiled crookedly and broke off. "Well, I guess you really don't need to know what she's thinking." "Incredible," Walter said, fascinated. "And you can do this in our world?" "Yeah. Much better than I can do magic or Scully can do healing." "So that's when, uh...." "So that's when our physical relationship started, yes." Mulder met his superior's eyes squarely. "And that won't change, Walter, now that you know. It's non-negotiable. We've been discreet, and - " He waved his hand dismissively. "I know that, Mulder. And I appreciate your discretion. I can't say I didn't suspect something was going on. A partnership like yours - that closeness - is pretty rare. But that's your's and Scully's business. Lifebond or not, I wouldn't intrude. It's none of my business." But it seemed to remind him of something that was very much his business. He paused, evidently having difficulty finding the right words for what he wanted to say. "Um... in our world... priests... priests are celibate, Mulder...." He let the unspoken question hang in the air. Mulder noted his friend's discomfiture. "And you want to know about Realm Priests? I'm not sure. I guess I always assumed that they were celibate, but I don't know for certain." He noted Walter's downcast expression and bit back the question he was about to ask. Instead, he commented, "Then again, very few Realm rules seem to apply to those of us who come from our world. There seem to be certain differences for us, maybe because we haven't been brought up in this culture and received the usual training. Or maybe it's a factor of our physical differences, I don't know. Take Mages, for example. Not only has a Mage never been in a lifebond, but they never have sexual relationships, and rarely form even close platonic ones." He shrugged. "I'm living proof that that isn't always true. Besides, you're both a Warrior *and* a Priest, which is unique. And warriors sure as hell aren't celibate. So I wouldn't automatically assume you're off the Realm's 'Most Eligible Bachelors List' yet." Skinner smiled, but avoided Mulder's eyes. "Just a hypothetical question, Mulder. That's all." Then he yawned enormously. "God, I'm exhausted. I think I'll hit the sack." He rose and started for the door, followed by his friend. "Walter...." Mulder's tone was hesitant, his clear hazel eyes soft with emotion. "Thank you for tonight. I know it's hard for you - being here, coming to terms with everything, accepting all the differences... accepting your gifts. But if it's any comfort to you, if it makes it any easier to accept them - tonight would have been a lot tougher on all of us, especially Shannon, if it hadn't been for you. You were our anchor in there. I would have come apart at the seams, Shannon would have been terrified and her labor would have been longer and more painful if you hadn't been there.... If you hadn't used your talents to the benefit of all of us. For that, I'll be forever in your debt." A look of intense curiosity crossed his face. "I've been meaning to ask you - how the hell did you know that Old Realm prayer you chanted? I was all ready to read it to you and have you parrot it back. That way we would have had the bases covered and Ballorca wouldn't pitch a fit. I was stunned when you stood up and started chanting. Do you realize you nailed it? You got everything one hundred percent right, including the pronunciation of some of the tougher Old Realm vowel combinations. How the hell did you pull it off?" Skinner shook his head tiredly. "I wish that I could take credit, Mulder, I really do. But the truth of the matter is, I didn't make a conscious effort to do it. It just... happened. That's what bothers me...." Mulder watched as the door to Skinner's room clicked shut. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ In a room dimly lit by a spent fire and a single flickering candle, three men sat at a table, their heads together, their voices hushed. They were dressed in the colors of one of the Noble Houses. Their heads shot up as the door opened and the newcomer joined them. "The Realm has an Heir," he announced grimly, taking a seat. "A healthy boy." "So the boy King and his outworlder whore have managed to reproduce, at long last.... You're sure - that the child is healthy, not defective?" "Robustly so, Milord. My sources are impeccable." "Impeccable, perhaps. But unfortunately, not effective enough to be sure that the Queen consumed our little potion in her food," the noble sneered. "The potion that would have guaranteed that the child, even if she had been able to carry it to term, would have been deformed, an imbecile unable to ascend the throne." "The potion worked twice, Milord. But the incorruptible Dorbo has been preparing all their food and drink personally since she lost the second child. The King is not stupid. He has not been fussing over her like a nursemaid for no reason. He has had his suspicions." There was a tense silence. "And do you feel he knows the source of the tragic misfortune he and his whore-wife have suffered in the past?" "No. Not specifically. He suspects the Houses, of course, all except his precious Ranfaus. But he has no proof, and does not know where to point the finger." The tall, austere noble nodded. "Very well, then. A healthy Heir has been born.... And we know what we must do now...." End of Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve I slept - or tried to - a good part of the remainder of that day. As I tossed and turned, trying to get my new-found talents out of my head, I heard Scully come back from the Royal couple's suite. I hoped that meant that Kyla, too, was getting some rest. I had to see her for a treatment at some point. I was hoping I'd get the chance - and the balls - to ask her if I was mistaking her interest in me as a patient for something more personal. Thoughts in that line were no more restful, but eventually pure exhaustion weighted my eyelids and I slept. It was dusk when I awoke. Hastily, I pulled on my boots, shirt and cloak and found my way to Kyla's cottage. She responded immediately to my knock. "Come!" I ducked under the low lintel to find her sitting by the hearth. She turned towards the doorway and smiled when she saw me. "Walter! I was hoping you'd be along." On the way over, I had been debating with myself whether to bring up what I thought might be our mutual attraction. Well, to be honest, I was bailing out and trying to justify it. But the warmth and genuine pleasure in her welcome gave me renewed courage. "Hello, Kyla. Were you able to get some rest?" All right, kind of a lame beginning, but it beat talking about the weather. Hell, it had been nearly twenty years since I had had to practice my social skills on anyone but the brass at the Bureau, and those were a completely different set of skills. "Yes, thank you, I was able to sleep for a few candlemarks." She busied herself making the obligatory tea while she talked. "Actually, I've just returned from seeing Her Majesty. Everything is still going perfectly." "I'm glad to hear that." She handed me a thick earthenware mug. "Please sit down," she said, laughing. "You'll injure your neck, stooping under the beams like that." When I had taken a seat, she continued, "What brings you here, Walter - business or pleasure?" "Both, I hope." With any luck, she would think the flush rising from my neck to my cheeks was from the warmth of the fire, crackling comfortably in the hearth. "Ah, yes. We had a treatment to do - your last, I'm afr- ... I'm thinking." Quickly, she turned back to the fireplace to brew her herbs. I guess she thought it would cover her slip, but I was finding there was some advantage to my growing empathy. While I couldn't read her mind, I could certainly feel her emotions, and they were as tumultuous as a teenager's at her first high school dance. I drank the herbal brew without my usual grumbling. "May I enter your body as a Healer, Walter," she requested, and I nodded. I had none of the misgivings I had had on my first visit. I relaxed completely. Let her see what was in my mind - that way I wouldn't mess it up by trying to put it into words. Her hands were soft upon my head and chest. There was the fragrance of fresh flowers, and Spring breezes, and then I was floating.... When I finally became aware of my surroundings again, she was once more gazing dreamily into the fire. I think she knew I was 'back', but neither of us said anything for some time. Then, we both opened our mouths to speak at the same time. I chuckled. "Ladies first." She smiled nervously, then taking refuge in her profession, composed herself. "You are completely healed. You will not require any further healing treatments." She hesitated, and avoiding my eyes, went on awkwardly, "But I... I hope you do not feel you must require healing treatments to come and see me." I paused, then gambled. "I think you know I what feel, Kyla." She blushed. She was a beautiful creature, sitting there in the firelight. Her hair was in a single thick braid, the light from the hearth turning it into a red-gold meteor blazing down her back. Her midnight-blue eyes sparkled in a flawlessly creamy complexion. I was so enchanted, I was startled when she spoke. "I could not help but.... I mean, I did not intrude, or pry. But your feelings were quite... open." My heart thudded in my chest. "I intended them to be. And your reaction?" I asked, letting the question hang in the air. Her lips twitched mischievously. "I think you know my reaction, Walter." I reached for her hand and took it in mine. God, it was so small and delicate that once more I was filled with misgivings. "Those are my feelings, Kyla. I can't deny or ignore them any longer. But that doesn't mean there aren't problems." She tensed, but only a little. "What problems?" I got up to pace. After getting a splinter in my scalp from the low beams overhead, I thought better of it and sat down again. "To start with there's this priest business. I don't know what that means here, but in my world it means that I have no right to what I feel for you - much less the right to act on it." She considered the question seriously. "It's not the custom, that is certain. But you are not from here, and you are also a Warrior. Perhaps...?" I shrugged. "That's what Mulder said. But that's only one of the problems. There's also the age difference." "Age difference?" she repeated in a completely different tone, as if she really didn't have a clue what I was talking about. I grasped her hand again. "Kyla, you know that I am very attracted to you. But I'm old enough to be your father." I was dumbfounded when she burst out laughing. "What? What's funny?" "I take it you haven't had much of an opportunity to speak with Professor Neumann." "No," I admitted. "But what does that have to do with it?" "I don't understand all of it myself. But he says time is different here. The span of our lives is different." Intrigued, I asked, "In what way?" "Well, for example - how old would you say Reinald is?" I shrugged. "I don't know. Sixty, sixty-five maybe." She laughed again. "Reinald didn't even arrive in Fairwoods until he was well past sixty. We don't keep much track of such things here, Walter, because they really have no meaning. But I would guess Reinald's age is three times that." "A hundred and eighty...." I breathed. "But.... Then how old are y- " Thankfully, the rudeness of my question brought me out of my state of shock and I bit off the remainder. "Let us say only that the age difference is not as much of a problem as you might have thought," she replied coyly. "As for the other - the Royal Priestess will be back by early tomorrow for the Naming Day Ceremony. You could consult with her to have your questions answered. But... well, you might think me very forward...." "Go on, Kyla - please." She took a deep breath and continued. "You will know what is right in your heart, Walter. If... such a thing... were not to be permitted you, I do not believe the Goddess would allow you to feel what you do." I stroked her hand as I thought about that. I didn't know the religion in the Realm from a hole in the ground. While I hoped with all my heart what she said was true, I couldn't discount that our feelings might be overriding our judgment. Her left hand grasped mine, and her right stroked the side of my face. "Listen to your heart, and speak to the Royal Priestess. And if your feelings are unchanged, perhaps, after the Naming Day ceremony tomorrow...." I stood to leave, still holding her hand. Bending low, I brought it to my lips and kissed it. "If I listen to my heart, Kyla, my feelings won't change," I said, softly but firmly. She smiled and a wave of love hit me like a Mack truck. "Tomorrow, then." When I could speak again, I repeated "Tomorrow," and got out of there before I lost control of myself. This time, I completed seven circuits of the castle grounds before I was fit to go inside. I noticed the steady streams of every sort of being coming through the portcullis. Everyone within a day's travel would be here by tomorrow for the Naming Day ceremony. Already, the inns were full and the stables nearly so. Finally, the chilly wind and hunger drove me inside. As I passed through the archway to my floor, I saw Mulder standing in front of my door. "Oh, there you are! Would you like to join us for supper? Lita has everything laid out in our room." "Yeah - thanks." He surveyed me inquisitively. "Been to Kyla's?" "Yes." My 'Let's drop this subject vibes' were out in full force. Evidently they were communicated to Mulder, because he merely smiled and stepped back to allow me to precede him into his room. I think he also let Scully know via their link that it was not a topic for discussion - she watched me with a mix of frustrated curiosity and sympathy. "Come and sit, Walter. Looks like some sort of gamebirds for dinner." They smelled delicious. I suddenly realized just how hungry I was. I helped myself to the poultry, unfamiliar vegetables and bread. It was a pleasant meal, making small talk as we ate and rather conspicuously avoiding the subject of Kyla, priestly talents and other indigestible topics. When we had finished, we moved over and sat in the armchairs by the fire. "This is when I really miss coffee," Mulder commented, "but I have compensated somewhat." He handed around pewter goblets. An aromatic, dark red liquid shimmered inside, tasting like a fine aged port. "Reinald would probably have a fit if he knew - Mages aren't supposed to drink - but it's been a hell of a day and I feel like celebrating." We toasted the young Heir's birth. Then I said, "Speaking of Reinald, did you know he's something in the neighborhood of a hundred eighty years old?" "I didn't, but I'm not surprised," Scully replied. "Corvay was reputedly several hundred season-cycles old when he died." "Jesus, just when I think I'm getting used to things here..." "And you don't even want to guess at how old Hannu is, in that case. Well, we'll tell you a bedtime story to take your mind off it, how's that?" Mulder's expressive eyes glowed with amusement and warmth. "Ah! So I'm finally going to learn about the secret life of Mulder and Scully, am I?" "Part of it, anyway." He and Scully took turns recounting the story of their first experience in the Realm. Through their words and the emotions behind them which I was able to feel, they held me entranced. I got so caught up, I could almost see Mulder creating the great funeral pyre for the Wide River victims of the Dark Creatures; I imagined myself in the Great Hall during Reinald's trial; I felt like I was with Scully and Aldara, riding hell-bent for leather across the Uriin Plains. Mulder was right. I would have been overwhelmed - or just plain incredulous - hearing this before I had gotten to know the Realm a little. I was beginning to understand much better their close attachment to this place, their fierce sense of protection. And the fact that they were every bit as much a part of this world as they were my own. A knock at the door broke the spell. Scully went to answer it and admitted a bustling Ballorca. Mulder didn't quite manage to stifle a groan at their guest's entry. "Ah, Mage Mulder! I am glad I caught you in." The Minister of Protocol stood expectantly, his beady dark eyes shifting from Mulder to Scully and back again. Resignedly, she began making tea. Mug in hand, he ensconced himself in Scully's armchair. "As you know, tomorrow is the Naming Day Ceremony, and as Royal Taabsut, you will of course be expected to take part in the ritual. Now, I have here your part, all copied out...." He withdrew a thick roll of parchment from his tunic. "If you'll excuse me, Minister Ballorca. Since your business is with Mage Mulder, I'll just be on my way," I said, rising. Mulder gave me a look like I was abandoning him to the Inquisition. Chuckling, I said, "Thank you for dinner. I'll see you two in the morning." "The ceremony starts at midday," Ballorca called out to me. "As the priest who officiated at the Royal Birth, you will take your place in the seats immediately in front of the dais with Mage Hannu, the Healers and Lita. Please be prompt!" I nodded and made my escape. So I was to be in the front row with the Healers.... There would be some compensation, then, I thought cheerfully. ~ ~ ~ The next morning I awoke to Lita bustling around in my sun- striped chamber. I slid out of bed clad just in my shorts. Lita handed me a mug of tea, and then draped my robe over my shoulders, though she had to stand on a chair to do it. A quick squint at the position of the sun told me I had slept far later than I had intended. "Just two candlemarks until the ceremony, Warrior Priest. Just enough time for breakfast and bath. I'm going to let you get dressed on your own today, if that's all right. As aura reader for the little Prince, I will be sitting up front, and I have to get dressed myself. My, Ballorca did fuss when he realized a new Priest robe would be needed for the ceremony - they've never had a big one like you do the honors before. But the Royal Seamstresses came through again! Quickest needles in the Realm," she declared proudly. She chattered on about the coming ceremony. I didn't bother to try to get a word in edgewise. - I doubt she would have noticed, anyway. I ate while she went on about the Prince, who would be wearing what and sitting with whom and all the rest of the gossip gathered from the four corners of the castle. After my bath, she left me on my own. I was grateful for the sudden silence after the avalanche of words. I pulled on tight black leather breeches, reminding myself I'd have to keep a firm rein on my thoughts as I did so. A loose white linen shirt came next, so fine and delicate it felt like silk gliding over my skin. Then I tugged on high black leather boots, polished to a mirror-like shine. Then the cloak. The Royal Seamstresses deserved a raise. Of softest wool, the cloak was light but warm, with a wide border of heavy green satin and intricately-worked embroidery in a garden of colors. I fastened the ornate silver clasp at my throat. After jotting down a brief note to Mulder in case he came looking for me, I went off to find the Royal Priestess. I suppose I should have remembered to ask Lita where I might have been able to find her. After a lot of fruitless running around the castle, I gave up and walked over to the Great Hall where everyone was lining up for the procession - that is, everyone who wasn't already inside. I asked around, and eventually the Royal Priestess was pointed out to me, standing in a crowd of humans and other beings. "Warrior Priest Skinner, I'm glad I'm getting the chance to meet you at last." She radiated serenity. It was a good thing - my errand was nerve-wracking enough, but I had been thrown a curve. For some reason, I had been expecting the Royal Priestess to be an elf or something. The smallish, elderly human before me made me even more uncomfortable about what I needed to ask her. It was like discussing my sex life with a nun.... "Is it possible to speak to you for a moment? Someplace private?" "Of course." She indicated a small cottage across the cobblestones from the Hall. It was a tavern, deserted now for the ceremony. We slid onto benches polished by use. Now that I was here, I didn't know how to begin. Fortunately, I didn't have to. "I sense your disquiet, Warrior Priest. I have heard your strange story from none other than the King himself, and know you must have many questions. How can I help you?" "Royal Priestess... you're right when you say I have many questions. I was... unprepared... for the discovery of this particular gift. I know nothing about your faith, and I have no wish to dishonor it through any ignorance on my part." "But you are wondering about our traditions," she completed smoothly, and smiled. "I wish I could tell you. Oh, our traditions are simple, there is no problem there. But your combination of gifts is unique amongst us. And not just your particular combination, but any. Rarely, a being in the Realm may be gifted doubly, like Warrior Healer Scully. But priests and priestesses have always been simply that - servants of the Goddess. As much as I would like to ease your mind, Walter, I am afraid I cannot. I have little idea how your being a warrior impacts your priesthood, or how your being a priest will affect your conduct as a warrior. The only advice I can give you is that the Goddess will reveal what you seek. Listen with your heart and not your ears, and her message will be clear." What was clear was that I wasn't going to get the concrete answer I sought. Disappointed, I accompanied the Royal Priestess back across the courtyard and we looked for our places in the crowd. My agents were among the last to arrive, Mulder hurriedly tucking in his shirt and Scully buckling the golden belt carrying her dagger. Mulder and the Priestess were hustled off to an anteroom just inside the hall by a frantic Ballorca as the trumpets began to blare. "We, uh...overslept." Scully's explanation was shouted over the fanfare, as she searched for her place in line. Uh-huh. I worked my way through the queue so I was standing between Scully and Kyla. They looked beautiful. Kyla wore a beige linen sheath below a chocolate-colored cloak, decorated with delicately embroidered leaves and flowers. Her hair was bound in a golden knot at the nape of her neck. It was simple and stunning. Scully, too, was lovely in a leaf-green sheath that perfectly set off her hair and skin, and the cloak of her unique double status. Seeing her like this, it was hard to picture her as ever belonging in a suit and heels. Kyla reached out to give my hand a reassuring squeeze. Then the line began to move into the Great Hall. We processed through a short, wide narthex area which had several doors off to the side, evidently anterooms of some kind. Then we moved through immense double doors and into the heart of the Great Hall. From what Mulder had told me, the original hall had been destroyed the last time they were here, but the replacement was certainly impressive. The building took on the appearance of an enormous, banner-bedecked amphitheater with a small raised dais in the center. Chairs, for the moment empty, were set in concentric circles around the dais on the floor level for a radius of perhaps a hundred feet. Then tier upon tier of benches rose to the buttressed ceiling. It was a marvel, and I guessed that both magic and Professor Neumann must have been involved in its construction. Here and there, I could have sworn I saw the influence of Saarinen and Pei. My eyes drifted to the crowd in the stands. The benches teemed with every imaginable kind and color of being. I saw creatures even Steven Spielburg hadn't thought of. As we processed along the wide central aisle, I became increasingly self-conscious, as those of us at the head of the line seemed to be drawing a lot of pointing and whispering from the throng. While I hoped much of it was directed at Scully, one of the Heroes of the Realm, I had a feeling that the unique talents signified by my cloak might also have been an attention-grabber. I followed Kyla to a single short arc of chairs right in front of the dais. I sat, nodding to Jourdain, Aldara, Daanna, Reinald, Lita and Mage Hannu, who joined us in the VIP seats. "This is incredible." I whispered to Scully, on my left. She grinned. "Take your time checking everything out, Walter. You've never been to a Realm ritual, but they go on for hours and hours. Believe me, you'll have plenty of time to see everything." I think it took the better part of an hour just to get everyone inside. The procession of dazzlingly-attired nobles and representatives from all parts of the Realm and beyond seemed neverending, broken only by occasional shoving matches between nobles jockeying for a better seat. At last the final being took his seat and the processional music stopped. After a few moments, a new fanfare was started and everyone got to their feet. Cheers rang out as the young King, his lovely Queen on his arm, walked down the center aisle. The affection for the pair was palpable from their subjects in the stands, and it was returned by the Royal Couple, who waved and smiled and even stopped to exchange greetings with some, much to Ballorca's displeasure. But the love and approval were not unanimous, especially among the nobles seated on the floor level. I felt the animosity very clearly, and from the Royal Priestess's occasional frown, she did as well. The final member of the quartet was a very uncomfortable-looking Mulder. The enormous double doors leading to the narthex were closed behind them. The quartet eventually reached and climbed the steps up to the dais and took their places in front of huge, elaborately carved chairs. They remained standing as the Priestess stepped forward and began to chant. I guess she was speaking Old Realm. In spite of my miraculous linguistic ability at the Heir's birth, I didn't understand a word of it now. Scully wasn't kidding, either. It seemed to go on forever, and I was as restless as a three year old in church by the time she wound to a close. The Royal Couple sat, and at last we were able to do the same. What followed was a kind of antiphon, as the four on the dais chanted and the nobles and priests chanted back. "When the hell does everyone learn all this stuff?" I muttered to Kyla. She smiled. "The nobles have little else to occupy their time, other than to learn the rituals and hatch plots." My hand reached for hers under the protection of our cloaks. Suddenly, I didn't give a damn if the ceremony went on all night, as long as I could be beside her. Then it was Mulder's turn. There was a murmur of approval from the beings in the stands as he stood and began his chant. Scully leaned towards me. "We couldn't make it here for the wedding and it didn't go down well. Rituals and traditions are tremendously important here - the Realm derives its stability from them. Ballorca may be a pain in the ass, but his function is a critical one. I think everyone's just relieved that the Royal Taabsut showed up this time. It's a good omen." I was to remember that particular little bit of irony later. "Good thing he has an eidetic memory," I whispered back. She nodded, her eyes on her bondmate. "The tough part is that he has to read it in order to remember it. He was up half the night trying to decipher Ballorca's scrawl. Even then, he had to guess at a few words. He's hoping no one will notice." If anyone did, it wasn't apparent. Half an hour or so later, Mulder sat down, his relief obvious. I gave him a subtle 'thumbs up' and his lips twitched in a brief smile. Shannon came next. She had a short - by Realm standards, anyway - chant, which she sang in a beautiful strong contralto. But she looked as relieved as Mulder had when it was over. I noticed him unobtrusively squeeze her hand as she relaxed back in her chair, and the look of gratitude she returned. Andalor stood, gesturing to the assembly to stay seated. He launched into his chant without hesitation. After another hour at least, Kyla whispered to me. "I recognize this part - it's in most of the rituals. He's reciting his lineage which gives him his right to the throne." Evidently, his forebears went back to the Flood - or whatever the equivalent was here. The ceremony had now been going on for hours. I would never again complain about the meetings I had to attend at the Bureau. They were a piece of cake, compared to this. The last rays of wintry sunlight were gone from the windows and it was almost dark by the time Andalor's now-hoarse voice came to a close. The Royal Priestess stepped to his side. Kyla smiled in anticipation. "This is the part where the new Heir is officially introduced to the Realm," she whispered excitedly. "He will be brought in by the Royal Nursemaid - just a ceremonial position for this ritual. Lady Livirnea, Their Majesties' best friend, was named to the position yesterday." I nodded. Mulder had pointed her out when we peeked in on the Professor's workroom late the day before. She was a lovely, delicate thing, with huge, clear gray eyes and pale blond hair. According to Mulder, her frail appearance was deceptive; the teenager was brilliant intellectually and her mild manner hid a strong streak of individualism rare in the Realm. "So when does the baby get his name? I thought that's what this was all about." Kyla shifted in her seat. "Not until the very end, I'm afraid. They save the best for last. It seems everyone in the Realm has at least a few silvers wagered on what his name will be, so expect a noisy reaction from the crowd when it's announced." The Priestess finally came to a stop. With that, the huge double doors to the narthex were thrown open and the trumpeters raised their instruments to their lips and began to blow another fanfare. It lasted for some minutes, but nothing else was happening and eventually they trailed off in apparent confusion. I didn't think anything of it until I noticed expressions of concern from the four on the dais. Something was definitely wrong. At the end of our row, Ballorca was looking like he was going to blow a gasket. Springing to his feet, he gestured to the trumpeters to begin the fanfare again, and waddled up the central aisle to investigate the delay himself. I don't know what any of us expected, but it sure as hell wasn't what followed. Ballorca had disappeared into one of the anterooms in the entryway of the Great Hall. Seconds later, he stumbled out, his hands and cloak stained with crimson, his face a horrified white mask. The trumpeters lowered their horns in open-mouthed astonishment. Then Ballorca began to scream. End of Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen "The Prince has been abducted!" Ballorca wailed. The Great Hall was pure pandemonium. As the throngs screamed and yelled, Hannu leapt to the dais to comfort his stricken daughter. Lita stayed with Daanna, and the rest of us from the VIP seats and the dais tore down the central aisle to the anteroom. The four members of the Honor Guard lay in pools of blood, their throats cut. There was no sign either of the Prince nor Lady Livirnea. A profusion of gory footprints stained the floor, the only clues as to who might have committed this horror. Almost automatically, we fell into our roles. Jourdain questioned those who had been seated at the back of the Hall, vainly seeking someone who had heard something, anything. Aldara took charge of clearing the Hall and preventing panic, as squads of Jourdain's best troops combed the village for the missing Heir. Mulder, Scully and I swung into action as we might have back in our world. While we scrutinized the footprints, Scully examined the bodies. From their approximate temperature and how much the blood had clotted, she determined that they had been dead at least two candlemarks - plenty of time for the kidnappers to have gotten out of the village. Mulder and I found five or six distinct sets of bootprints, not that that told us much. Most men wore boots here, and common sense told us it would have taken at least four men to overpower the guards. We reported our findings to Jourdain. "I'll send out brigades in all directions," he said grimly. He stopped, as a shell-shocked Shannon was led past, supported by Hannu and Andalor. "We'll find your son," he promised her. "We will find him, Your Majesty." Kyla touched my arm, then went with the Royal Party to give what comfort she could to the grieving mother. Mulder made a little sound in his throat - half sob, half growl. This was hitting him hard, too. "We *will* find him, Mulder," I assured him. Without making too big a deal of it, I placed my hand on his shoulder, hoping that once again, I could impart some calm. My own emotions in an uproar, I don't know whether I did or not. He was able to keep going, anyway. "Aldara and I are going to finish up here," Jourdain announced. "We will meet in Reinald's quarters as soon as possible to plan our next move." "Am I going to be a part of this?" I asked Scully, watching his retreating figure. "I'm not su- " I felt a tug on my cloak. It was Daanna. Lita was trying her best to get the child away from the blood and the bodies, but she had made a beeline for me. "You *must* come, Warrior Priest Skinner. You must be the one to help!" ~ ~ ~ All right, this was weird. I mean, the whole situation was weird, but this was the weirdest thing yet. What possible reason could the kid have for deciding *I* would be the one to help? I was just barely keeping my head above water as it was in this strange place, with its magic, its auras, my growing empathic ability - "What do you mean, poppet?" Jourdain's tone was soft yet serious as he held his daughter in his lap. We were all seated once again around Reinald's hearth. Tarnor had joined us. From what I could gather, the place seemed to beckon the tightly-knit group in times of trouble, to derive what comfort they could from being together around its warmth. "Did you have a dream?" Meaningfully, the big warrior caught the eyes of the others. "Well... not a dream, 'xactly." The little girl seemed to consider the question thoughtfully. "*They* told me." "They told you what, Daanna?" asked her mother. "Who are 'they'?" "They said a man would come, that he would help. And they are... they are... I don't know their names.... The Shiny People... all yellow and white, with big voices. They talk to me sometimes... sometimes when I'm awake and sometimes when I'm asleep. And they said a man would come and help." Reinald surveyed the child somberly. "Did you know the Prince would be taken, Daanna?" Eyes wide, she shook her head, her black curls dancing around her face. "But they said that if something bad happened, a stranger would help - a special stranger." She seemed so positive, but Christ, she couldn't have been more than eight years old. I leaned forward, closer to the child, trying to minimize the height difference as much as possible. She was tiny and I'm a big guy, and I didn't want to scare her. Then again, she was so self-possessed I don't think she would have been scared of much.... "But Daanna, Fairwoods is filled with strangers right now. A lot of beings came to see the Naming Day Ceremony. What makes you so sure they were speaking about me?" "Because you're special," she patiently replied. "No one is like you." "That is certainly true," Tarnor observed. "Both Warrior and Priest - an impossible combination." "But- " I began weakly, protesting. They couldn't be taking this kid seriously. I looked to Mulder for assistance. He just shrugged. "Don't fight it, Walter. Daanna has her own talents, and if she says that you're going to help, you can bet the farm that your presence is going to be instrumental in some way." Mulder turned to the girl's mother and said thoughtfully, "It's looking like you were right, Aldara - that there is a reason why Walter was drawn here." Grimly she nodded. She was about to speak when the door to the chamber opened and Andalor, Hannu and an older gentleman with a pronounced limp came in. Tiredly, the King waved us back into our seats as they found empty ones around the fire. "How is Shannon, Andalor?" Mulder inquired anxiously. "Kyla is with her." He dropped into a vacant armchair as if his legs couldn't have carried him another step. "She alternates between tears and vowing to impale the kidnappers on her sword. Kyla was trying to get her to sleep." "Andalor, I'm so sorry," Scully said. "Whatever we can do...." "I know." He looked up, blinking away tears that had welled in his eyes. "I know, and that is more comfort than you would believe. If anyone can get my son back unharmed, it will be the beings in this room." "And Lord Mandor - we'll get your daughter back as well," Mulder promised the old gentleman. So this was Lord Mandor. I had heard his name once or twice in passing. He laughed bitterly. "So, Mage Mulder, you obviously do not ascribe to the rumors that have been making their filthy rounds." "What rumors?" Scully asked. "It appears that the other Houses have not lost time in turning this outrage to their advantage," he replied heavily. "It's being said that Livirnea herself plotted this hideous act." "Livirnea? But why?" Scully gazed at him, open-mouthed in amazement. "Why would she do such a thing?" "Well, that depends on which rumor you hear. One has it that Livirnea never recovered from her broken betrothal to the King - that it drove her insane and she has been plotting her revenge since it happened. The other accuses me of influencing her to take the child as a way of advancing Ranfaus House." "Goddess!" spat Tarnor, disgustedly. "Surely no one with the sense of a bug would put any credence in either of the two. They're absurd!" "Mandor, I am sorry." Reinald sighed. "Unfortunately, Tarnor, there are more than a few who would believe it. The King breaking his betrothal was unprecedented and bound to invite comment and speculation. Remember, we were all privy to details the general public was not." Nor was I, but I expected Mulder to fill me in later. "...most beings have an idealized view of the Crown," the Royal Mage was saying. "It was simply beyond their comprehension that the King would not want to make what was clearly an excellent marriage to the lovely daughter of a major House, and even more impossible that Livirnea would not want to marry the King." Andalor nodded. "And as for Lord Mandor plotting against the Crown, well... it's nothing that Maalfees, Dordinal and several of the smaller Houses haven't thought of doing themselves. But nothing will make me believe that Ranfaus has turned against me." He reached out to place a reassuring pat on the older man's shoulder. "Thank you, Andalor. I'm honored by your faith in me and my House." "But someone wants to see the erosion of that support," commented Reinald grimly. "Probably several someones. And one may have knowledge of the beings that stole the Prince." "Whoever has done this will pay dearly." Andalor's words were quiet but glacier-cold, somehow much more reflective of his state of mind than if they had been heated by temper. The room was silent for several moments, the tension and worry almost palpable. I had had but brief acquaintance with these beings, yet even I had to work to maintain focus, to keep my anger under control. How much worse was it for the young parents and those who loved them? Mulder was just barely holding himself together. Not only did he care deeply for Shannon, but I was certain that the infant's abduction brought back memories of the helplessness, grief and frustration he felt when his sister was taken. And then Scully.... He got up and started pacing. "It's just so infuriating, just sitting here, doing nothing...." he said tensely. "Surely there must be something we can - " "Regrettably, there isn't," Andalor responded. "If there was, believe me, I'd be doing it." Reinald nodded. "The King is right, Mulder. We've sent runners out, troops are combing Fairwoods and the surrounding villages, searching every structure. Until we know what direction to look in.... " He shrugged tiredly and everyone was submerged in gloomy silence. I could see that he was as attached to the King as Mulder was to the Queen. Andalor's and Shannon's hell was theirs as well. "Look, there'll be a search party eventually, right? When we know what direction they went?" I asked. God, the sound of my voice in that tomb-like chamber startled even me. "Maybe if we make plans now, decide who will be in the search party, we'll be ready when the time comes." "Good idea, Walter," Scully said warmly. From the glances she had been throwing Mulder's way, I knew they had been communicating. Hell, probably her messages to him were the only things keeping him from taking off alone in typical Mulder fashion and getting into God knew what trouble. "I will go on the search," Andalor declared firmly. The Royal Mage sighed. "I could have predicted this," he murmured. Louder, he said, "I knew you would want to, Andalor. And it's just as certain that you must not." "It's my son!" the young man nearly shouted. "What kind of a father would I be if I didn't...? Besides, I want to be there when he is found, I want to know that he is safe. And," he continued darkly, leaving no doubt as to his intentions, "I want to be there when we find the sons of bitches that took him." "And that's just one of the reasons why you must *not* go," Reinald said firmly. In a gentler tone, he explained, "Look, Andalor, I know that you are sick to death of hearing this, but it makes it none the less true. You are the King. If anyone must let Realm justice play itself out, it must be you. Not to mention that there is an emergency session of the Council of Representatives tomorrow. You must remain here to preside, and show the Realm that you and the kingdom are strong and secure. And- !" he raised his voice to forestall Andalor's ready objections, "...and you must be here for Shannon. She needs you." The final argument at last made some impression, and the King collapsed back in his chair dejectedly. "All right - but only for Shannon, Reinald. Only for Shannon." The Mage nodded. "Good, Andalor, I'm glad you are being sensible. I do feel, however, that it is your right to choose the members of the search party." "Thank you for that, anyway." The King's glance ranged along the semicircle around the hearth, from one face to the next. "Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully - I hate to presume upon you once again, after all you have done for the Realm, and for me personally. But would you...?" Quietly Mulder replied, "We wouldn't have it any other way, Andalor." He nodded, a sad smile on his lips. "You've brought about miracles in the past. I am relying on you to do so again." Miracles? Plural? That must have been some of what had been left on the cutting room floor from the conversations I'd heard. I made a mental note to pin Mulder and Scully down about the rest of their exploits. "But apparently we'll need help," Scully observed. "Daanna says that Walter must go with us." "Warrior Priest Skinner?" he asked with some surprise, a frown coursing over his features. He turned to me. "I am most reluctant to permit this, Walter. You were brought here by accident, and you know little of us. Certainly not enough for me to ask this of you. This mission may well be dangerous." "You don't have to ask, King Andalor. I'm volunteering." I looked over at Mulder, who shot me an approving nod and I turned back to the King. His strange violet eyes met mine and I was instantly flooded with his sorrow and fear, overwhelming me as if they were my own. I was glad I didn't have to say more; I didn't think I could force the words out around the lump in my throat. "You do the Realm a great service, Warrior Priest. Thank you," he said humbly. He turned his attention back to the others. "And who will accompany them?" "Aldara and I will. With your permission, of course, Andalor." "You have it, and with it my thanks, Captain Jourdain." "And me!" declared Tarnor, his fearsome gargoyle face set determinedly. The King nodded his appreciation. "While I would want to go, Andalor, and still will if it be your wish, I feel you might be able to use my help here," said Hannu quietly. "And I would like to be with my daughter. I have missed so much of her life, not being there when she needed me...." "I agree, Hannu. I was going to request that you stay behind. Between Mulder and Tarnor, there should be no lack of whatever Mage gifts might be necessary." "I too would prefer to go, but...." Lord Mandor gestured helplessly at his withered leg. "I fear I would only hold up the mission. And in view of the circumstances, I feel my presence is required here, to answer the inevitable accusations in the Council tomorrow." "Again, I understand and agree, Lord Mandor. You have always stood by the Crown in times of need; now the Crown will stand by you, and by your daughter." "My thanks, Your Majesty." The dignified noble was haggard with worry. I felt his torrent of emotions as well, but to a lesser extent than I had with the young King. But the force of the anguish and outrage in the room grew by the moment, threatening to overwhelm me. I struggled to control it, to find my peaceful center. Evidently that struggle must have shown in my face. "You are dealing with many new things, Warrior Priest," Reinald said, his expression thoughtful. "And if Daanna is right - and I have never known her to be wrong, however mysterious her talents - then your gifts may well make all the difference." I frowned. "That's what I'm afraid of, Royal Mage. I... I'm just learning about them myself. To have everything counting on them - the safety of the Royal Heir and Lord Mandor's daughter.... I shook my head. "I just hope I know what to do and how to do it when the time comes." "I've been thinking of that," he nodded. "That's why I have decided to ask Urielle to join the search party." "Urielle?" I asked, puzzled. "Urielle is a priestess," Mulder explained. "I've worked with her once before - remember I told you about that priestess who tried to control the mob ? She's an empath of great strength. If anyone can teach you what you need to know in the time you have to learn it, it will be Urielle." "She is a very learned and holy being," Tarnor added. "And next in line to become Royal Priestess because of it." "Yes!" Daanna piped in suddenly. She had been resting on her father's lap with a faraway look in her eyes. But now she was alert and animated. "Yes, Urielle will go." "That settles it then," Reinald said. "I'll get word for her to be ready at our call." "You can if you want," the little girl conceded complacently. "But she already knows." I wished the Realm had cameras, Reinald's expression was that noteworthy. In spite of the terrible reason we were all there, I thought Mulder was going to swallow his lips to keep from laughing out loud. The Royal Mage's eyebrows finally descended from up near his hairline. "Very well, then, Daanna - " HIs next words were lost as there was a knock on the door, and Kyla came in. My heart started to beat a little faster. She looked tired as she joined us at the hearth. "She's asleep," she said, before Andalor and Mulder could put voice to their questions. "Dorbo is with her, but she should sleep for several candlemarks. Before she drifted off, she asked me to see you, Your Majesty, to perform a healing treatment for you, to help you deal with your son's abduction." "I don't want to 'deal with it'." Andalor's tone was coldly furious, and the Healer took an inadvertant step back from him. "I don't want to deal with it and I don't want to feel better. I want to stay feeling just as I am until our son is back in his mother's arms where he belongs." "It was Her Majesty's wish - " "Then Her Majesty will not be told." His eyes scanned the group, his face set. Young though he might be, there was no doubt as to his authority. Uncharacteristically it appeared, the King was pulling rank. "As you wish, Your Majesty," Kyla said simply. "I - I didn't mean to snap," he stammered, once more the unsure young man. "But I need to hold on to my anger. I need it right now. It's the only thing keeping me going.... Can you understand that?" "I may not agree with it, Sire, but yes, I can understand it." Reinald cleared his throat. "I think it's time we all tried to get some sleep - what sleep we can, anyway. Tomorrow is going to be a very difficult day for all of us. Especially for those in the search party, your next opportunity for rest may be long in coming." "Goddess willing," said Tarnor, rising. "At least that will mean that we have some direction to go in." "Amen to that," murmured Mulder. With that, everyone began to drift back to their chambers. Mulder slowed his steps, I guess waiting for me. When he saw that I was walking with Kyla, however, he looped his arm around Scully's shoulders and they struck off down the hall. The man could be uncannily intuitive at times. "You look tired," I said to her as we strolled the chilly passageway. She laughed shortly. "Scully told me a quotation from your world - 'Physician, heal thyself'. Is that what you're implying?" She looked up at me, a teasing smile on her lips. I grinned back. "I don't know - *can* you?" "For minor ailments, yes. For major injuries and illness, usually not. And for disquiet of the mind and soul, definitely not, unfortunately." Gone was her smile. Now her anxiety and fears were hitting me like a tidal wave. "Who are you most worried about? The parents or the child?" "I'm worried about all of them." She sighed. "This child means everything to Andalor and Shannon, especially after the loss of the others. But I'm most concerned about the infant. I can only pray that whoever took him did so to demand a ransom," she said, voicing the Number One fear we all had but hadn't mentioned. God knows Mulder and Scully and myself had seen enough kidnappings by sick sons of bitches that hadn't been for financial gain, but rather for- ...no, I didn't even want to think about that. Kyla went on, "He's a strong, healthy baby, but they are so fragile when so young. I hope whoever took him is taking care of him." "I'm hoping that it's a promising sign that they took Livirnea along, possibly to care for the child. In any case, we're going out to find him tomorrow. I'll be going with the search party, Kyla. Daanna of all people says it's important that I go, that somehow I'll help to get the baby back." She nodded as if Daanna's pronouncements were standard fare. "Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully are going as well?" "And Tarnor and Jourdain and Aldara. And someone named Urielle." "It may be dangerous." Her voice was uninflected, almost flat, but I could feel her anxiety notch up a level or two. Perverse as it was, I couldn't help but take heart from it that she really did care about me. "My job in my world carries a certain amount of danger, Kyla. I'm not a stranger to it." Changing the subject, I said, "I... I can feel your disquiet. Can you go to Scully for a healing treatment?" "I could... but I think she's going to have her hands full with Mage Mulder." I had to admit that she had a point. I took her hand, hoping in some small way to put her mind at rest. We walked in silence down the staircase and out the archway into the windswept courtyard. "Kyla, about tonight...." She waved dismissively, then clasped her cloak tighter around her. "I know, Walter. With this terrible act.... The time is not right. We both have duties we must attend to first." We cut across the courtyard to stroll at the base of the wall, which blocked the worst of the wind. I was depressed, and not just as a result of being on the receiving end of everyone's emotions. I sighed. "Maybe... maybe it's not meant to happen." Then I laughed humorlessly. "I don't know, I've never been a Warrior Priest before. I didn't get the rulebook...." She laid a restraining hand on my arm and we stopped for a moment. The warmth never left her dark blue eyes. "I don't believe that, Walter. I believe it *will* happen. When you have finished the task the Goddess has set for you... when you find the child. Then it will happen. I believe that, and you must as well." We began walking again along the path through the herb garden that led to her cottage. I had no idea what the Goddess might have in store, but there was no doubt Kyla believed what she was saying, and I took comfort in that. A lot of comfort. We came to the door of her cottage, both of us feeling a bit awkward. "Walter, be careful...." Suddenly, she embraced my face with both hands and leaned toward me. Her kiss, wistful and sweet, was still warm on my lips as she disappeared behind her door. ~ ~ ~ I wandered down the passageway, in no real hurry to get to my chamber. Outside, I had walked around the castle several times in an effort to put my thoughts to rest - not to mention baser urges. In the end, the cold had driven me in. My hand was on the wrought iron door latch to my chamber when Mulder's door opened and he slipped out into the hallway. He seemed calmer - evidently Healer Scully had been at work. I nodded to him and together we entered my room and went to sit by the fire. His eyes showed that concern again - like I was his fragile little brother and he was looking out for me. Maybe I should have resented it, felt patronized... I don't know. Instead, the concern I saw there, felt radiating from his essence, moved me beyond words. "Walter, are you okay with this?" I shook off the emotion with some difficulty. "Okay with taking orders from an eight year old who's just obeying the voices she hears in her head? Is that the part you mean?" I asked gruffly. I realized my words carried some sting, and I sighed. "Yes, oddly enough, I *am* okay with it. Christ knows why. Other than the feeling, of course, that I'm going to horribly disappoint a lot of people. Mulder, I don't have a clue what the hell I'm supposed to do.... How my being with the search party is going to be of any earthly help." His eyes, always so expressive, shone with an awed gravity. "Maybe that's it, Walter. Maybe it won't be 'earthly help' at all." He rose from his chair to leave. "We'll be getting up before first light. We can't wait any longer, we're losing too much time. Hopefully by then we'll have heard some news so we have an idea of where to go. Pack tonight - bedroll, warm clothes, and an extra pair of boots. Your weapons too, of course. We don't know how long we'll be out there. Lita will awaken you when breakfast is ready in our room. Try and get some sleep." Ironic advice, coming from Mr. Insomnia. He had reached the door when I called out softly, "You do the same, Mulder." He shrugged helplessly and went out the door. I stared into the fire and rejoined my whirling thoughts. ~ ~ ~ I was into my second helping of elven porridge the next morning when Lita came in. The news from all quarters was, bluntly, no news at all. It was like the kid had vanished into thin air and, given the use of magic in the Realm, I advanced my theory to Mulder. Actually, it was the first thing he and Reinald had thought of. But all the Mages - Tarnor and Hannu included - had agreed there was no telltale stench of black magic in the air. While that was a comfort in a way, it was also a source of frustration, since we were no closer to a direction now than we had been the previous night. Worse, having no word of the child's whereabouts heightened the chilling fear that we all left unvoiced - that the child had already had been killed. Neither Mulder nor Scully looked like they had slept a wink all night, and I hadn't done much better. We were sitting listlessly at the refectory table, shoving down a meal that we knew our bodies needed but had no appetite for. But Lita was animated enough for all of us. "Mage Mulder, you need to hear this." One glance at the excited elf was enough to capture his full attention. "What is it, Lita?" "Well, as you can imagine, there are hundreds of rumors flying around - some of them complete stable-droppings, as usual," she sniffed. "But I was just told something down in the kitchens that... well, it just struck me that there might be something to this one." "Sit down, Lita," Scully suggested. "Have some tea and tell us about it." "Aye, I won't say no." She took a deep swallow of the brew and continued. "I heard this from one of the vendors, a rascal named Sharmi. Now Sharmi gets around a lot, delivers vegetables to the Noble Houses as well as to the castle." She snorted. "If what I have heard is true, he delivers more than vegetables. He keeps odd hours and has a bit of a reputation. Rumor has it that he has a brisk trade going in untaxed home-brewed spirits.... Anyway, he said that all of the Noble Houses have held meetings all night - secret meetings. About the Prince's abduction. Plotting, he called it." Mulder frowned. "That's hardly news, Lita. I'm not surprised that the Houses are plotting how these events could best benefit them. Sometimes I think that's all they do. Did any one of the Houses seem more suspect than the others?" She shook her head. "If there was, he didn't mention it. Of course he has his business to protect, though I think if something had stood out - something treasonous - he would have told me. But what Sharmi did say was interesting enough. He was talking very late last night to an innkeeper in a little village west of here, and the innkeeper happened to mention a strange little group that had travelled through just a candlemark before. There were three men on horseback, and three other figures in a wagon, travelling fast and light. They stopped just long enough to water the horses and grab some food, and then they were off again. Now you know, Mage, no one travels through the night without pressing reason. Between the bandits and the night beasts.... That's what got the innkeeper's attention. And Mage... the innkeeper said one of them was holding something in her lap - something like a small bundle." She looked pointedly at Mulder over the rim of her earthenware mug. I felt the tension increase in the others - that, and more importantly, for the first time, hope.... "What was the name of the village, Lita?" "Elvenwood. It's on the main western road, about four or five candlemarks' ride from here." Mulder looked at Scully, probably conferring silently out of habit. I cleared my throat noisily, just to remind them I was still around. Scully smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Walter. Mulder and I were just discussing this latest turn of events. It's not much of a lead, but it's the best we have." "If it's any help to you, Warrior Healer - Maalfees' ancestral lands lie far to the west, out past the Great Robe Desert," Lita added. "It's said that their manor house is like a fortress." "This might be it," Mulder said. "Lita, do me a favor and run to Reinald's quarters. Tell him what you told us. If he thinks it's worth checking out, go tell Tarnor and Jourdain and Aldara we'll meet in the stables as soon as everyone can get there." She stood and gathered her cloak more closely around her. "Right away, Mage. I'll stop by the stables on my way and let them know to start saddling the horses and getting the pack animals ready. Tilfo will be in to bring your things down." "Thanks, Lita." His words of appreciation were probably lost as the door clicked behind her scurrying figure. I glanced over at Mulder. There it was, what I had been waiting to see... the excitement of the hunt, the recognition, whether by intelligence or intuition, that this was a lead worth following. It appeared my adventures had only just begun. End of Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen We had just finished tying the last of the bedrolls and sacks of supplies to the pack animals when Urielle came into the stable. I was beginning to get used to the diminutive stature of the other beings that shared this strange place with humans, but even for an elf, she was tiny and frail-looking. I glanced nervously at Mulder and murmured, "Look at the size of her! If we're going to be travelling hard and rough, do you think she's up to it?" His eyes swept over towards the elven priestess who was chatting with Scully. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Elves are much stronger than they look, and are natural-born horsemen. To tell you the truth, I'm more worried about you. Walter, I didn't think to ask you this before, but have you ever ridden a horse in your life?" I chuckled. "You think I've never travelled in anything more taxing than my Lincoln Town Car, I suppose." "Well, *have* you ever ridden? These Realm horses are big bastards, and they can be a handful, especially in cold weather when they're feeling their oats." As if to underscore Mulder's point, my steed reared up, evidently anxious to be on its way. Mulder's wary eyes bore into mine. "Don't worry, I'll manage," I replied drily. Anxiously, he assured me, "We'll keep it relatively slow at first, until you get used to it," then turned to confer with Jourdain and Scully. I'll always remember his look of wide-eyed astonishment when, waving aside the offers of assistance from the stableboy, I swung easily up into the saddle, controlling the stomping, snorting beast with only subtle pressure of my hands on the reins and my heels in its flanks. When he had recovered from his shock, he mimed a tip of an imaginary cap to me and with a bemused expression, found his own mount. Minutes later, we had all saddled up. Saying goodbye to Andalor, Reinald and Hannu and with their heartfelt wishes in our ears, we struck out westward at a ground-eating canter. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We had ridden for perhaps two candlemarks when, at the head of the column, Mulder reined in his horse to the side of the road and waited until I rode by. He cut in next to me as Urielle - an accomplished horsewoman as Mulder had promised - pulled back to ride next to Tarnor for a while. "Here you've been accusing us of having all the secrets," he began, speaking loudly to be hear over the clatter of hoofbeats. "It looks like you have a few of your own." "Who, me?" I grinned, and continued, "My life's an open book, Mulder." He smiled in return, but predominent in his expression was curiosity. "Apparently not. For example, where'd you learn to handle a horse? Unless of course you want to confess that your father was an elf." " 'Fraid not," I laughed. "But it's been a while, and I suspect I'm going to feel all this in the morning." It was funny - in spite of the seriousness of our mission, I suddenly realized that I was happier and more relaxed than I had been in years. In fact, I don't think I could have named a time in my adult life when I had felt this good.... I shook myself from my reverie, feeling like I had tried my companion's patience long enough. "I, uh... I spent eighteen months on a youth ranch, Mulder," I replied. "In Washington state, not far from where I grew up. There were a lot of family problems at the time, and I acted out in the only way I could.... I boosted a car." I thought he was going to fall off his horse. "*You*? *You* stole a car?" "Cut me some slack, Mulder. I wasn't born in the Bureau, you know. I was not quite sixteen at the time. My parents were in the middle of a divorce. Six months before, my older brother Bobby had been killed in Vietnam. The war at that point was just a police action; no one expected their kid to come home in a box. My mother and father were having problems anyway, but when Bobby was killed - well, it just blew them out of the water. He was always their favorite, the fair-haired boy. My mother had been against him enlisting, my dad was all for it...." I shrugged. "The usual.... She blamed him for Bobby's death, he blamed her for blaming him, everyone hating everyone else. Between the fights and the tension at home.... My sister and two younger brothers weren't hit as hard as I was, for whatever reason.... Shit, to tell the truth, I guess I was feeling pretty guilty. I had always been jealous as hell of Bobby. I was angry at the world - at my parents, at Bobby, everybody. So I got in with the wrong bunch of kids, cut school, generally raised hell and acted like a horse's ass. Then one day, I hotwired a car and set the Seattle record for how fast I got caught." "And that's when you figured that you had no future in crime - committing them, anyway," Mulder teased. "Actually, since it was a first offence, I'm surprised you didn't get off with just a slap on the hand." "Well, I almost did. But my aunt intervened." I glanced over and, catching his expression of confusion, chuckled. "No, she did me a favor, Mulder. My aunt was the only one in the family who realized that if I had just gotten a lecture and returned to my home, the same damn thing would have happened again - or worse. My only chance was getting out of there. Not that I appreciated it at the time. Shit, I was furious with her, didn't speak to her for years. I think it was when I was in college that I finally had the sense - and the balls - to thank her. Anyway, she convinced the judge to send me to a youth ranch. She knew a little structure and discipline and hard work might smarten me up." "Obviously, it worked," he observed mildly. Remembering back, I laughed. "The first three months were pure hell. Parris Island wasn't as bad as that place, to a rebellious kid. Finally I got with the program, stopped fighting it. I was lucky - there were people there who saw potential in me, and encouraged me. I excelled at the school they had there, even became a kind of mentor to new kids coming in. Since it was a working ranch, I also learned everything there was to know about horses - which included riding." I smiled, nostalgia for the place flooding me unexpectedly. Funny, I hadn't thought about the ranch in years. "In a way, I hated to leave. But I got my high school diploma and went back home. I don't think I was home a month when I realized I just didn't fit in there anymore - if I ever had. I didn't have the money for college - or the inclination to go at that point. I was at loose ends, so a couple weeks later, over my mother's vehement objections, I enlisted in the Marines. You pretty much know what happened there...." "Up to a point," Mulder agreed. "What happened when you got out?" "Well, I was wounded near the end of my tour, and that pretty much ended it in any case. After I got out of the VA hospital - and that took a while - I went to San Diego State on the VA Bill... majored in Criminal Justice. I got lucky again and had the opportunity to go on immediately, so I got my MBA. At the time there weren't a lot of guys lining up to join the Bureau - either they had all gotten their asses shot off in 'Nam, or had tuned out and turned on, so to speak, and didn't want anything to do with the government. So I got in with relatively little trouble. The rest you know." "From what I heard, you were a hell of an agent and set records for how quickly you were promoted. Records that still stand." I shrugged. "I caught some lucky breaks - in the right place at the right time, that sort of thing." Mulder smiled knowingly. "I also heard that you distinguished yourself in the field twice for valor. Crawled on your belly for thirty yards to drag your wounded partner out of the line of fire. Is that what you refer to as being in the right place at the right time?" That was pretty far back, and I hadn't thought it was common knowledge. Then again, knowing Mulder and his habit of delving for the truth, maybe it wasn't necessarily commonly known. For some reason, I was less comfortable with this heroic, larger- than-life image he was painting of me than that of the surly, authoritarian, anal-retentive boss. "Partners cover each other's asses, you know that," I replied dismissively. "What I did was no more than what any agent would have done." "Uh-huh." He sounded unconvinced. "Look Mulder, if you want to make me a hero, I suggest you wait until we've recovered the Heir to the Throne. If we can pull that one off, we'll deserve hero status. Then again... you and Scully apparently already have that here...." I let my words hang and he had the grace to blush. Unfortunately, our arrival in a little town cut short the conversation I hoped would shed more light on their past exploits in the Realm. We slowed as we hit the cobbles of the single street into the town. It was a pleasant enough place, a mixed species village, if the variety and the sizes of the dwellings was anything to go by. Curious beings lined the road, pouring out of shops and cottages as we rode by. I looked for the inn and found it without difficulty, a whitewashed, half-timbered structure with a thatched roof. I was surprised when we rode by it, and turned questioningly to Mulder. "Realm custom demands we call first on the village elder for tea and to state our business," he explained. I was amazed. The Mulder I knew in our world was not big on observance of custom or tradition - or even common courtesy a lot of the time. Not when he was on the scent of a case. "Can we afford the time?" "No," he replied grimly. "But unfortunately, we can't afford not to. A major breach of Realm etiquette like that would just alienate the town and we'd have a hell of a time getting any cooperation. Don't worry, we'll keep it short." The difference in the man was incredible. If I could just get him to be half as politically sensitive in our world as he was here.... We dismounted. Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor opted to stay outside with the horses - and no doubt to glean what information they could from the bystanders - while Mulder, Scully, Urielle and I followed the elven elder into his cottage. We sat - or crouched, in Mulder's and my case - around the hearth while he poured and distributed the tea. "I am Horliss, village elder of Elvenwood. I welcome you in its name. I see you bear the King's standard. Is it the Prince's disappearance that brings you here?" "Yes, honored elder." Urielle, as the lone elf in our party, served as spokesper- ...spokesbeing. "We received information that a group of travellers stopped here last night. Three mounted men and three others in a wagon. We were told they stopped but briefly at the inn, and then resumed their journey. Night travellers are uncommon," she said noncommitally. "And foolhardy. Aye, it raised comment," he agreed. "One moment." He stepped just outside the door and murmured a few words to one of the curious villagers clustered nearby. "Sesha the innkeeper will be here in a moment," he said, reseating himself. "He is an observant one, and may well be able to give you what you seek. From what I heard, the travellers came through very late indeed, well after most of our beings had retired for the night. We are but a simple trading and farming community," Horliss explained apologetically, "with nothing much to stay up for after the sun has set." We made polite small talk for several minutes, though I could see from the way Mulder kept clenching his jaw that he was impatient to get the information and be on his way. I couldn't help but sympathize. Finally, a middle-aged human wearing a somewhat grungy apron entered the elder's cottage. "You summoned me, Horliss?" "Ah, Sesha! Come in and have tea. Our guests wanted to ask you about the travellers who came through last night." Scully took over - a wise move since Sesha's eyes hadn't left her since his entrance. "Horliss told us you were very observant, Sesha. We need your help. We are here on the King's business, searching for the Prince. Can you tell us everything you remember about the travellers?" How Scully managed to be both authoritative and coquettish at the same time amazed me. She certainly seemed to make an impression on the innkeeper. Sesha's chest puffed out with pride. "Yes, I have a shrewd eye. A successful businessman must, you know. And I knew they were up to no good the moment I laid eyes on them. Just three of them came in - humans, speaking New Realm with a high class accent. Very proper, they spoke." "That's good, Sesha, that's just the sort of detail we're looking for. Anything else?" "Hmm.... Well, their clothes surprised me, seemed wrong." "Seemed wrong in what way?" "Well, from their manner of speaking, I would have thought they'd be in silks, and the finest, softest wools. But their clothing was like workman's clothing - rough, plain. Aye, I noted it at the time. It didn't fit with their classy speech, nor with their hands." "Their hands?" Scully prodded. He nodded vigorously. "Aye, they had soft hands, well kept. Like they had never done an honest day's work in their lives. I thought at the time that perhaps they were disguising themselves, dressing down to fool would-be bandits on the road." "Did you hear anything they said?" asked Urielle. He looked at the elf and scowled. "Nay. Every time I came near - to take their order or bring more wine - they stopped talking. Except to complain, that is. Goddess! They arrived just as I was closing. They were lucky I let them in at all. But did I get any thanks? No - they said the wine was swill, the food overcooked. I run a good inn, I do," he declared, aggrieved. "They had no call to insult me!" "I'm sure your inn is wonderful," Scully soothed. "I wish we had time to visit it ourselves, but...." She shrugged regretfully. "I understand there were others in their party." He nodded, mollified for the moment. "They stayed outside. The men had me prepare a basket - flasks of wine and water, some meat and cheese, a couple of loaves. I caught a glimpse of them, though, as they were pulling out of town. Two figures on the wagon seat - a man and a woman. Or possibly a man and some variety of being. Smaller than the man, though. And in the back, a woman - a girl really. Very pale in the moonlight. She had on a hooded cloak, but she was turned toward me, so that's how I saw it was a human girl. And she was holding something." "Did you see or hear anything that would give you an idea what it was?" "No. Except that she seemed very careful with it, like she was afraid it would break or something.... Oh!" He broke off suddenly, his brow furrowing in thought. "What is it, Sesha? The smallest detail could be important." "Well, it was something I had forgotten until just now. There was something else I put in the basket, something they asked for specifically. Something they were lucky I was able to put my hands to at that time of night, not that I got any thanks for it." "Which was..?" "A flask of fieldbeast milk." Scully smiled warmly and clasped the innkeeper's rough, slightly grubby hand. "Thank you, Sesha. You've been enormously helpful." She and Urielle rose and Mulder and I followed suit, my muscles protesting strongly after a morning spent first in the saddle and then crouching in the tiny cottage. "Are you certain that you will not be my guests for midday meal at my inn?" Sesha invited. Before anyone else could answer, Mulder cut in. "I'm very sorry, Sesha. Perhaps on our way back. We must leave now to follow those travellers. Perhaps they have a good explanation for their actions, perhaps not, but we must find them in order to ascertain that. They already have many candlemarks' lead. You have the King's thanks for your assistance." Pleased, the innkeeper nodded and followed us out to the brilliant sunshine where the others awaited us. "Did you get anything?" I asked Jourdain. He nodded. "A little something. An old lady who swears she heard the cry of a newborn babe late last night. And there are no newly-born infants in the village." "Do you think she's reliable, or just telling you what you want to hear?" "Difficult to say." The old warrior shrugged. "From what the others tell me about her, she is both reliable and has extremely good hearing. I take it you had some luck as well." I nodded and brought him up to date with what the innkeeper had said, while Scully did the same with Tarnor and Aldara. Mulder had already mounted and was making it clear he was more than ready to leave the village. The rest of us quickly followed suit, and we were out of the village a few minutes later. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I must have been in my own little world, because I was startled when Urielle spoke. I looked to my left and down. God, she looked so impossibly tiny to be able to control the huge Realm horse. But I could see that Mulder had been correct once again - she was a consummate equestrienne. "I asked, how are you finding the Realm, Warrior Priest Skinner?" she repeated in a surprisingly low, musical voice. "I apologize that until now I have not had much opportunity to speak with you." I smiled. "Things have been happening pretty fast, haven't they? I don't think I've had a lot of time to dwell on how I'm finding things in the Realm. All in all, I guess I'm getting used to it." "And your new-found powers?" She watched me shrewdly. "That's... taking a bit longer. I'm just not the type that.... I just never...." I shook my head and gave up trying to explain. She appeared to take my discomfort in stride. "Normally we have our whole childhood to become accustomed to the idea, then another ten or so season-cycles living amongst the priests and priestesses, learning to control and direct our talents. I am not sure how I myself would react to have them so suddenly foisted upon me. I think I would probably be afraid, and perhaps resentful." She slid a glance at me under her lashes. "Those are certainly part of it, both of them," I admitted quietly. "There's a lot of self-doubt about whether I can control these powers I supposedly have, put them to any use. Whether I can learn what I have to, for the mission we're on. But it's not even that simple. Throw in a sense of disbelief that any of this is happening at all. And yet at the same time..." I took a deep breath, then sighed. "At the same time, a feeling that after a lifetime of confusion and uncertainty and denial and pain, the pieces have finally come together. A feeling of completion, of one-ness, for the first time in my life. If that makes any sense." I looked over at the elven priestess. "I don't know - maybe it's just me." I was somewhat taken aback at my openness with this little stranger I had just met. But somehow there was something about her that made me feel as comfortable as if I had been with Mulder or Scully. She smiled and shook her head. "I don't think so, Walter. I think all this is perhaps more startling because of your origins. But I'm not particularly surprised to hear you feel that way. Many of us feel a sense of 'arrival' or fulfillment when we begin to harness our powers and use them as the Goddess intends. And it appears you're learning quite quickly. Mulder told me what happened at the Heir's birth." I grunted. "Oh. That." Yes, Walter - that. That little stand-out performance that you've thought about every hour or so since it happened. "I'm sorry, I can't explain that.... I was hoping perhaps you could." She laughed then, a gorgeous sound like windchimes. "I have no explanations for you, Walter. What do you think it was?" Oh, great. Now she was sounding like one of the Bureau shrinks. "Well, I guess under different circumstances I would have to say it could be classifed as a miracle." "Why under different circumstances?" I sighed, exasperated "Look, I don't know the first thing about your religion or the Goddess or anything else. So it's not like my deep and abiding faith had anything to do with it, because I don't have any faith. And miracles are reserved for the faithful." She shrugged. "Or perhaps as a little demonstration to plant the seed of faith in a non-believer." That shut me up. We covered several more miles of winding dirt road while I mulled over what she had said. I felt the turmoil in my mind start to settle, like more puzzle pieces dropping into place. Some of it was her - Urielle. I felt her influence in helping me to calm down, sliding things into perspective and clarifying my thoughts. But most of it was me, the serenity making its appearance once again and locking into place like nothing could ever displace it again. And a feeling of rightness. I looked across at Urielle - she had noticed it too. "Looks like I have some catching up to do. When do I start?" "Now's a good time," she smiled. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We stopped briefly at a tree-shaded spot near a sparkling stream just long enough to water the horses and force down some food. At this point, we all believed that those we were pursuing were indeed the kidnappers and that they had the Prince in their possession. I'm not sure there was sufficent evidence to back up our beliefs, but it was too depressing to contemplate anything else. When we resumed the pursuit, we began to notice signs of recent travel on the road - mounds of partially dried horse dung, and bits of cloth and parchment whose appearance was too regular to be entirely accidental. Evidently Livirnea was doing her best to give us some sort of a trail to follow. I wondered for a moment how things were going back at Fairwoods for the young King and Queen, and for Lord Mandor.... By the time the sun was low on the horizon, the road was becoming steeper and narrower, permitting no more than two horses to travel side by side. I had been riding on autopilot, my knees automatically gripping the great beast's sides, my mind occupied by what had transpired with Urielle. "Walter? Are you all right?" I turned to see Scully riding by my side. I had no idea how long she had been there. "Yeah, sure. What makes you think I'm not all right?" She smiled sympathetically. "Your expression, for one thing. And I had to ask you three times before you heard me. Have a rough lesson with Urielle?" "Not rough, exactly.... Just a lot of things to think about." "Been there, done that," she nodded. "I remember when I was learning Realm healing from Corvay. There were days that I had to drag myself back from his cottage and could hardly make it up the staircase to our room. I think the mental exhaustion from trying to learn to control my mind was ten times worse than the physical exhaustion of learning to be a warrior." "Corvay? You've mentioned him before. Who was he?" Sorrow touched her lovely face. "He was amazing... the Royal Healer when we first arrived in the Realm. He was murdered, the last time we were here. He was terribly old and frail, but still... what a presence he had! Warm, empathetic, practical - often iracible.... And a wonderful Healer. I miss him so much. I wish you could have met him, Walter," she concluded wistfully. "So he the elven Healer before Kyla?" She nodded. "She was his last apprentice. He had gradually turned over more and more of the healing duties to her. She was almost ready to leave apprenticeship anyway, when it happened. It nearly killed her, as well." Kyla - nearly murdered! The thought made my gut cramp in alarm. That's it, Walter, don't betray your cool exterior. I looked over the landscape in the dusk. Tilled fields and lightly wooded areas had given way to dense forest punctuated by sheer ebony rock walls, as the road climbed and wound around the foothills of the Blackforest Mountains. "I wouldn't have thought that murder was a big problem around here." "Normally it's not. But things were hardly normal then. The Realm had an enemy...." I smiled. "Am I finally going to get to hear another one of the stories Mulder's been promising me?" "We really haven't been holding out on you, Walter. We just thought hearing everything at once would be too - " "Overwhelming - yeah, I know. Come on, Scully - tell me a story so I can get all this priest stuff out of my head for a while. Besides, I think I've gotten beyond the point of being shocked." She shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you. All right.... The Realm had an enemy, a queen from ages past with enormous powers of black magic and an equally enormous hatred for the Realm...." It was long past dark by the time her story drew to a close. "...so that's how the Dark Queen was defeated, and how Hannu discovered Shannon was his daughter, and helped Andalor and Livirnea break their betrothal agreement so that he and Shannon could become betrothed." She looked over at me. I was silent - stunned silent. Finally, I said, "Well, I stand corrected, Scully. I guess I am still capable of being shocked - " There was a shout from up ahead. Jourdain and Aldara, leading the party, had dismounted and were making their way back toward the rest of us at the end of the caravan. "We need to make a decision," Jourdain began. "The road ahead gets worse, from what Tarnor tells me. Narrower, steeper, hugging the edges of cliffs as we cross the mountains. No one but a lunatic would attempt it in the dark. We should make camp for the night and start again at first light." Aldara glared at her husband. "Since we haven't come across the kidnappers, I think it's safe to assume that they have completed the crossing. They are probably camped on the other side for the night. If we keep going, we could gain back a lot of their lead. Jourdain is unwilling to risk it, I'm willing to try. So, as you can see, we're in need of a decision." Mulder frowned. "I hate to lose that much time. If we travel through the night, we might even catch up to them by morning and recover the Prince. Maybe Tarnor and I can whip up a little something that will allow us to carry on." Now *that* was the Mulder I was familiar with - the 'come hell or high water or common sense' Mulder. I glanced over at Scully, the misgiving clearly written on her face - and being communicated to her bondmate, if his expression meant anything. It looked like a pretty even split - Mulder, the fierce-visaged Tarnor and Aldara all eager to continue the pursuit, and Scully, Urielle, and Jourdain reluctant at best. Which left - oh, shit. I felt six heads turn toward me, and I stared back at them. "Look, I can't make this sort of decision. I'm not in charge of this mission and I have no idea how bad the travelling conditions are going to be." I might as well have saved my breath, as six pairs of eyes continued to look at me. I sighed. "All right. Can you Mages do something to make the going safer?" "Well, we can certainly create some light to travel by," said Tarnor. "I don't think we have the wherewithall to create a protection spell for a group this big and this mobile, but the light should help considerably." "Think that will be enough?" I asked Jourdain. He shrugged. "Let's see." Tarnor and Mulder conferred for a few seconds, then stepped back. Still facing each other, they raised their arms and began to chant. As the twin globes of blue fire rose over the heads of the two Mages, shadows cast eerily sharp images in black and white. Electric- blue sparks danced from their fingertips to crackle in the charged air surrounding them. I felt the hair all over my body stand up, as if I were some kind of a conduit for static electricity. Somewhere nearby I could hear thunder rolling. Lightning split the black sky, starkly illuminating us. Suddenly I saw a startled Tarnor drop his arms, and begin waving them in Mulder's face to bring him out of his Mage-trance. "Stop, stop!" The lightning was getting fiercer by the second, and the thunder was now continuous. Still Mulder chanted on, his eyes staring sightlessly into the distance. Frantically now, the little gargoyle finally leapt up, grabbed one of the outspread arms and shook the tall human as hard as he could. There was a resounding crack of Mage energy, just about the same time a bolt of lightning struck not twenty feet from where we were standing. With a sharp cry, Tarnor hurtled through the air to land some ten feet away. Scully rushed over to him, while I saw to Mulder, who had stumbled to the ground. He sat gasping for a few seconds, then shook his head as if to clear it. "What the hell happened?" "You got me. I'm not from around these-here parts," I replied drily. "Can you stand?" I helped him to his feet, then the two of us went over to where Tarnor was just standing with Scully's help. "Well?" I asked the reeling little gargoyle. He shook his head. "Goddess, what a headache! There's nothing that Mulder and I can do, Walter. It's this area, these cliffs around us. Certain metals have powers of their own to affect magic - I believe the Professor calls them 'magnetic'. These cliffs must be full of those metal ores. Mulder's and my attempt at casting a spell caused a Mage storm, due to the effects of those magnetic powers." I noticed that the wind had dropped and only a few faint rumbles of thunder remained from the storm. "So that wasn't the weather?" "Mage power and even emotions can dictate the weather, Walter," replied Mulder. "Damn! Then we can't do anything at all?" he asked an equally chastened Tarnor. Mournfully, the gargoyle shook his big leathery gray head. "Well, it looks like we're making camp for the night then," observed Scully. "I'll take first watch." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ He heard the clomping of booted feet coming down the cellar staircase, but continued his perusal of the labels in his wine collection. "You heard, Milord??" the newcomer asked in a whisper. The noble glanced up from the dusty bottle he held. "Just the rumors." "Consider them confirmed." The young man clothed in the colors of the House threw himself into a chair. "A search party left just before dawn this morning." The elder noble's brows drew trogether in a frown. "Who was in the search party?" "As we feared - the strange Mage and his bondmate. Jourdain and his half-breed bitch of a wife. Mage Tarnor, Priestess Urielle. And the new Stranger, the big one who goes about in the white cloak edged in green." A look of surprise registered on the noble's gaunt patrician features. "An odd addition to the search party, certainly. Why would he go with them?" The young man shrugged. "I have heard it said that he is a friend of our Heroes of the Realm," he replied sarcastically. "Perhaps that was reason enough." "No." The noble paced between the tall racks of fine wines and was silent for several minutes. "No, I don't think so. And our own travellers - how are they faring?" "They have a good lead. They will reach the estate well before the others catch up with them. There's no need to worry, Milord - nothing can go wrong." "If you believe that, then you are a fool!" the noble spat out in a fierce whisper. "Anything can go wrong - and already has! Of all the directions the search party could have gone in, they managed to choose the right one. That speaks of either ill-fortune, or someone has put two and two together." He sat himself at the small wooden table and leaned across to the younger man. "Our plans - our lives - depend on our travellers reaching the manor safely. Once the child is safely in our hands there, we can raise him as Maalfees. Then we will 'find' him when the time is right - when Andalor has met an untimely end, or when he has proven his inability to give the Realm an heir. The other Houses will be crushed, the rightful heir will take the throne - and Maalfees will be at his side. The child's Mage power is just an unexpected bonus - another weapon in our arsenal to rule the Realm as it should be ruled. We have all agreed on this plan. But it is a plan born of desperation. If we are exposed, we will be executed as traitors. I have no wish to meet such an end." He paused, thinking. "I want you to find out everything you can about the big stranger. That cloak disturbs me. An impossible combination - the white and the green, the priest and the warrior. And where have we seen an impossible combination before?" The young man thought for a moment. "You mean the Mage's bondmate? The Warrior Healer?" The noble grunted in agreement. "And certainly that pair has accomplished the impossible before. What if.... No, I don't like it, I don't like it one bit." He paused for a few moments' reflection, then said softly but decisively, "Find out all you can about him. Be discreet, but I want to know everything you uncover, no matter how preposterous, no matter how trivial. His presence makes me uneasy. And in the meantime, find Nardoc and send him to my study. It appears we will have to make the search party's journey a bit more... challenging...." End of Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen I shot upright as an excited squeal cut through my dreams. My hand went to the sword by my side and I looked around blearily for the source of the alarm. Aldara was giggling like a kid and holding out her hand. Smiling, I laid down my sword and got out of the bedroll and to my feet. I bit back a groan as my muscles screamed in protest at the night on the cold ground after a long day in the saddle. "Walter, look!" I strolled over to where she had been keeping watch by the fire. The others, similarly awakened, were beginning to stir. "A new experience for you?" She turned shining emerald eyes on me, her cheeks flushed pink by the cold. In the tangle of her black curls, tiny snowflakes sparkled for brief seconds before melting. "Isn't it fantastic, Walter? No, I've never been in the snow before. I've heard about it - there was once a snowfall in Fairwoods - but it was before my time. Hold on now... listen...." Apart from the movements of the others, standing and stretching to get the cold ache from their bones, I didn't hear anything. I looked at her quizzically. "It doesn't make any noise!" she said in an awed whisper. I grinned at her child-like delight. "You know, you're right. I guess I never thought about it." "Is there snow where you live, Walter?" I chuckled and drew the hood of my cloak over my head. For people like Aldara, blessed with abundantly thick tresses, snow was fine. Those of us who were follically challenged tended to turn a jaundiced eye to such wonders of nature. "Yes, there's snow where I live. Too damn much of it sometimes." "How could you ever have too much? It's so beautiful!" I scanned the gunmetal-gray skies overhead. "If this keeps up for another few candlemarks - and I think it will - you'll have your answer." "Forgive her, Walter." Jourdain strode up and pressed mugs of tea into our hands. "She knows not what she says. Snow is a rare thing here, except in the mountains. But I remember once trailing a band of highwaymen in the middle of a great storm of snow. It loses its fascination quickly." "That it does, Jourdain." I sipped at the scalding liquid, grateful for its heat and lift. "Perhaps you can tell me of more of your adventures while I help you cook breakfast." "Aye, I'd like that. We're going to need a good hot meal before the day's ride. Well now, I could tell you of the time- " Aldara laughed. "You're in for it now, Walter," she said, and waved us off. Like a little kid, she began trying to catch snowflakes on the end of her tongue. We exchanged war stories as we worked. At first the sameness of our experiences as soldiers struck me as odd. After all, we came from different universes, different climates, different levels of technology, different political forces. But I realized that in spite of all the differences, there were similarities, constants: personal honor, belief in the righteousness of a cause, courage under fire. And those constants were more meaningful than all the differences. Something to think about. The others had rolled up the bedding and broken camp while Jourdain and I had been reminiscing over skewers of meat and pots of elven porridge. Then they joined us by the fire, drawn by its warmth and the smell of cooking. As we ate, the snow continued, beginning to coat the surrounding trees and rock of the Blackforest Mountains. Much as we would all have liked to stay by the fire, the weather alone promised a challenging journey. Once the meal was finished and the fire out, we didn't hang around. I did some quick stretching exercises and felt better for it. I was almost looking forward to the day's ride. There was a chance, though not a good one, that the people we pursued would be more self-indulgent than we were. We might be able to close the gap between us. ~ ~ ~ Several candlemarks later, I realized how futile my fireside hopes had been. Under the best of conditions, the track through the mountain pass would have been treacherous. The snow, now inches deep, only made it moreso. We slipped and slid, narrowly averting disaster time and again. My own mount took a tumble, vaulting me over its head and down a steep embankment. Desperately, I clutched at the sparse vegetation and managed to pull myself up with Mulder's and Jourdain's help. Back on my feet on the narrow track, my heart thudded in my chest as I looked down and saw how close I had come to skydiving without the benefit of a parachute. As much as we wanted to press on with speed, the terrain and the weather were solidly against us. I began to wonder whose side the Goddess was on. Another candlemark and we were at last through the pass and on the other side of the mountain range. Gradually, we left the green and white of the Blackforest Mountains behind. The snow had changed to rain - a cold, penetrating downpour with brief respites that came in the form of a cold, penetrating drizzle. The landscape too had altered. We passed quickly through the few foothills of the mountains and into an area barren of anything but stone. In the distance, bizarre rock formations towered, their gray blending so well it was hard to tell where the pinnacles stopped and the sky began. It was as bleak a place as I had ever seen. "Where the hell are we?" I asked Tarnor, riding to my right. He seemed pleased I had broken my moody silence. "Ah! This is the Great Robe Desert," he announced. "It gets its name from an old legend we have. It is said that an ancient king valued his wealth above all things. While his people starved, he continued to display that wealth at every opportunity. Well, he arrived at a ceremony one day in a new jewel-encrusted robe, all the colors of the rainbow sparkling from the magnificent garment. Unfortunatedly, his timing was as poor as his sense of values. The ceremony was in recognition of one of the most solemn holy days, a day that called for fasting and sacrifice. This, of course, was in the days before worship of the Goddess was widespread," he added, as if that explained a lot to me. "Anyway, the sumptuousness of his apparel, especially the great jeweled robe, angered the Goddess greatly. Legend has it that She appeared at the ceremony in a thundercloud. In retribution for his greed and pride, She turned the king into a cart beast, condemned to live out the rest of his days pulling heavy wagons. Then She tore apart the robe, and flung the jewels and scraps of cloth to the east wind, which scattered them here. In gratitude for their delivery from the selfish king, the people began to abandon the old gods and worship the Goddess. It is also the reason why even today, you see little wealth displayed at the castle. It's considered an insult to the Goddess and her people," he concluded chattily. He gave me one of his pointy-toothed grins. "At least, that's how the legend goes. But this area is celebrated for being rich in minerals, so you never know - there might be something to it." I nodded absently and hitched my sodden cloak around my neck. "So this is the Great Robe Desert, huh? Where I come from, deserts are dry," I said somewhat sourly. His grin never faltered. "Oh, it is the same here. There are only a couple of weeks in the whole season-cycle when it rains here. We just happen to be here at the right time." The little gray guy's good humor must have been contagious. "Or the wrong one," I said with a grudging smile. "Depending on your viewpoint, of course." He nodded and shrugged. "Admittedly, it is more beautiful in the sunlight. Or so I am told. The rocks are of every hue and tone. It is easier to see then how the legend was born. Perhaps it will clear later." I wondered briefly if all gargoyles had so optimistic an outlook. I struck me then how much I had adjusted to this place in the brief time I had been in the Realm. Here I was, chatting with a gargoyle and thinking nothing of it. At least partly it was due to Tarnor's personality. He was probably one of the most likeable and charismatic people - beings - I had ever known. So much for appearances, I thought. Too bad my own world was so hung up on them. We drew closer to and eventually rode among the rock formations. The trail was still wide enough for two to ride comfortably abreast, but the rocks towered above us and leaned over the path, close enough in places for the summits to nearly touch. It made me claustrophobic, edgy, like I was confined, buried alive. I tried to find my serene core, but it was eluding me. The sooner we could put this godforsaken place behind us, the better I'd like it. Up at the head of the column, Aldara was riding point. Evidently, she too was nervous. She continually scanned the landscape, sometimes standing in her stirrups to try to get a better view. Scully, riding in tandem with Mulder, and Jourdain, partnered with Urielle, also appeared tense. Their right hands rested uneasily on the hilts of their swords. I transferred the reins to my left hand and and grasped the comforting cold metal of my own weapon. Looking back, I'm sure it was that edginess that saved us. Aldara had just ridden under a huge overhanging platform of rock when one dark form appeared on it, and then another and another. I may have yelled out a warning, I don't remember. At that point, things started happening pretty fast. One by one, the dark figures started dropping on my friends. Aldara dispatched the first brigand only to have two others take his place. Scully had been pulled from her horse by the man who dropped on her. A frantic Mulder was prevented from reaching her by his own problems, in the form of two black-clad bandits. Scully and her attacker circled each other warily, knives drawn. I saw him lunge - then lost track of the action. Tarnor and I had been riding at the back of the column, and now three men jumped us from behind. Tarnor may have been a Mage by talent and training, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to use a blade. What he lacked in physical stature he more than made up for in courage and ferocity. Only Urielle was not embroiled in hand to hand combat. Sensibly, she spurred her horse through the fray, running down one of Aldara's foes in the process. I was relieved to see her out of it. I had been afraid one of the bastards would take her hostage to force the rest of us to lay down our weapons. All this I caught out of the corner of my eye as I fought with two of our attackers. I was glad for the training, however brief, I had received with Jourdain; otherwise I might have been sliced to ribbons. I dispatched one of them early on - my blade ricocheted off his and caught him in the neck. He went down in a spurt of crimson. His partner in crime was luckier - or perhaps more skilled. I slashed and parried with my sword, barely able to keep up with his lightning-quick moves. A big bastard, he swung his sword in a mighty arc. If I hadn't partially blocked it, I would have been cut in half. As it was, I felt his blade slide off mine and bite into my ribs on my left side. Blind with pain and rage, I went after him with a roar. As he lunged to meet me, I went into a forward roll, leaping to my feet and wheeling around to face him. My unorthodox style undoubtedly startled him. He was a little slow getting his sword into position - fatally so, as it turned out. Tarnor had just finished off his opponent. His fearsome grin in place, he yelled above the fracas. "Looks like the others could use some assistance!" Indeed, Mulder and Jourdain were struggling with two attackers each. Maybe because the bandits thought they would be easy marks, Aldara and Scully each had three men surrounding them. "You help the men, I'll help the women," I shouted, and we darted into the fray. By the time I got into any position to help, Aldara was down to one opponent and Scully had two. I honestly don't know what I expected. I had seen both of them in practice, knew they were skilled warriors; naturally, I had long acquaintance with Scully's tenacity and temper. But I was completely awed by their performance. They were a blur of motion, their blades never still, fending off with ease guys half again their size. I stepped in to distract one of Scully's attackers and soon had my hands full. I saw Aldara disembowel her remaining opponent with a tremendous sweep of her sword. She glanced quickly at Scully and me and, feeling we had matters well in hand, joined Tarnor in dealing with Mulder and Jourdain's bandits. My opponent, evidently in a temper at finding us not as unprepared as he had been led to believe, charged at me. Too close to him to use my sword effectively, I pulled my dagger from its sheath on my belt. It found its way into his midsection. With a groan, he dropped to the ground and crawled off behind a rock. I spun around to see Scully dispatching her foe with a triumphant shout. We turned to Mulder's group. Aldara and Jourdain were just finishing off their opponents. None of the black-clad figures remained standing. Panting, I stood there, taking in the scene. Bodies littered the ground, the stone painted a garish scarlet. As if to purify the earth, the skies opened up once more and torrents of rain began to wash away the insult of spilled blood. Dizzily, I wiped my sword on the cloak of one of the fallen attackers before returning it to its scabbard. Following the rapidly disappearing blood trail, I looked for the brigand that had crawled off, but heard only the sound of the rain and retreating hoofbeats. I found my knife, let the rain wash it, and stuck it in my belt. I wasn't worried about the one that got away. From where my dagger had struck and the amount he was bleeding, he would never see his intended destination. I noticed, but didn't really comprehend at the time, that there seemed to be a lot more fresh blood on the ground as I made my way back through the rocks than there had been to start with. I rejoined my friends, stumbling as my feet caught on stones I was suddenly just too tired to clear. Mulder and Scully were bending over the prostrate form of Tarnor, who was looking much grayer than usual. I sank to my knees beside the little guy. He was unconscious and didn't look good at all. Suddenly chilled, I looked up at Scully. "What's wrong?" "Stab wound," she said tersely. She held the gargoyle's hand. "Bad?" "Bad enough. We're going to have to stay here for a while so I can put him in a healing trance." She nodded at Mulder, who cradled the little gargoyle as gently as a child and carefully picked him up. "Let's move him under that overhanging shelf of rock. It will be drier there." Exhausted, I stumbled to my feet and followed them. Jourdain and Aldara had just finished dragging the bodies out from under the shelf to make room for us. What the hell, the rain wasn't going to bother them at this point. Scully dropped to her knees, intent on treating Tarnor. I don't know how much she knew about gargoyle physiology, but I prayed it would be enough. I stood there, swaying, watching her go into a healing trance as the rocks slowly spun around me. "Walter! You're bleeding!" Aldara was at my side, looking worried. Stupidly, I glanced down and touched my hand to the side of my chest. It came away dripping red. "I... uh...." Then the world went black as I pitched foward. ~ ~ ~ When I came to, it was dark. A fire was burning nearby. I looked around at the rock that seemed to be everywhere and puzzled for a while where the hell anyone could have gotten firewood in this godforsaken place. Then I spotted the blue flame of Mage fire. Handy, having these guys around, I thought muzzily. These guys... Tarnor.... There was something about Tarnor, something disturbing. Then I remembered. I sat up quickly and let out a yelp, clutching my side. A nanosecond later, Scully was crouching over me. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" she demanded. "Stay still, Walter, or you'll bleed again." She moved my hand and frowned. "Too late. First you don't bother to tell me you've been slashed, then you go and undo all my work...." She busied herself finding some bandages in her saddlebags. "Wh-what...?" I looked down. I was naked to the waist except for a band of white encircling my chest. A red spot was spreading rapidly across the white. "I have to stop this bleeding. You've lost too much blood as it is, and my healing will only speed up red cell production just so much." She slid some bandages under the binding and pushed on them - hard. It took all my self-control not to yell out. "Sorry.... We were attacked. Do you remember?" I let out the breath I had been holding, sighing as the memories came back with a rush. "Yeah... I do now. How's Tarnor?" "He is doing great. Gargoyles have remarkable recuperative abilities. And he knows enough not to move suddenly and open up his wound again," she added pointedly. "Sorry. I kinda lost track for a minute. How long have we been here?" "A few candlemarks. We'll stay here for the night. Tomorrow... well, we'll see." Mulder came up to join us, holding a cup. "How are you feeling?" I eyed him sourly. "Suffering more from Scully's tonguelashing than anything else." He smiled briefly, then sobered. "You had us worried. You were bleeding pretty badly. Think you can drink this if I help you to sit up?" "Depends on what it is. If it's more of the crap that Kyla made me drink, I doubt it," I grumbled in reply. Scully harrumphed and stalked off to the fire. Chuckling, Mulder admitted, "Well, yeah, it's probably the same stuff. Smells awful, anyway. But it's like this - either drink it up, or Scully will give you another tonguelashing." "That's an offer I can't refuse." Mulder moved behind me and gently raised the upper part of my body. Somehow I got the noxious stuff down. "I'll bring you some soup to take away the taste," he said sympathetically. "And don't mind Scully. You scared the shit out of her, Walter. Generally, she gets pissed off instead of going to pieces. Just her way of coping." He moved to go but I grabbed his arm. "No... wait. First, tell me what's been going on." "Well, let's see. After you performed your little swan dive, Aldara, Jourdain and I administered first aid - got you into shock position, put pressure on your wound, and so on. Scully came out of her trance with Tarnor to find you bleeding like a stuck pig and white as a sheet. Seriously, you did have us worried, Walter. Quite a slash you have there - right to the bone." He didn't have to tell me - my side throbbed. "I guess this means I flunked my Warrior midterm. I can hardly wait to see the mess I make out of the Priest exam." He smiled. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Walter. You did pretty well, considering you were a transfer student and missed most of the classes. You took out your share of them." "Who the hell were they, Mulder? Thieves?" Aldara approached with a thick earthenware bowl and squatted next to me. She had overheard my question. "That's what we were supposed to think. Here, try to eat some of this." She tried to feed me, but glaring, I took the spoon from her hand. Somehow, I managed to get more soup in me than on me. "Mm, that's good. All right, so if they werent thieves, who the hell were they?" She sat down, her legs curled up underneath her. "I have a suspicious mind. Something just felt wrong about it. In spite of their ragged clothes, I noticed that they had all used high-quality weapons, the products of one of the Realm's most respected swordmakers. Bands of thieves are rarely outfitted so well - they usually have only what they've managed to steal. So I took a closer look at the bodies." I swallowed some more soup. It really was excellent. "And...?" "And every one of them had a tattoo on his right shoulder. The crest of Maalfees House." I glanced at Mulder before looking back at her with respect. "I have a job for you at the Bureau if you're ever interested." She laughed gaily, her black curls dancing. Smiling, I shook my head. "What?" she demanded. "Nothing. I'm just having trouble reconciling the image of you now, or this morning when you were discovering snow, with the woman I saw in action this afternoon. You and Scully both - you were formidable." She bowed mockingly. "Thank you, kind sir. Or are you just trying to persuade me to take that job?" "I wasn't kidding, if that's what you think," I protested. "We could use someone with your instincts and abilities." She laughed again and got to her feet. "Well Walter, I thank you for the compliment. I think it only fair to warn you, however, that I have the same impatience with rules and regulations as... well, as Mulder here." I groaned playfully. Still laughing, she walked back to the fire to sit next to Jourdain. The soup was delicious, but I tired disturbingly quickly. Mulder matter-of-factly took the spoon from my hand and fed me the rest. What I had refused to let Aldara do for me, I surrendered more easily to him. I just felt less uncomfortable with Mulder and Scully seeing me in this kind of condition than anyone else. Call it macho pigheadedness, or anything else. I appreciated not only that he did it - I was hungry - but the way he did it. Not fussing, not making a big deal, just keeping up a steady stream of conversation while he got the rest of the soup into me. "Thanks," I murmured. "And Mulder - I'm sorry." "Sorry? For what? Getting hurt?" "The delay. This is losing us time, and I know how much you want to find the child." He shrugged. "We would have had to stop for Tarnor in any case. And I don't think we would have been able to catch up with them before they went into hiding - they just had too much of a lead. At least now we can be absolutely sure we're going in the right direction. I don't think Maalfees would have treated us to a visit from their version of the Welcome Committee if they didn't have an excellent reason to stop us from getting to their manor house." "That's true.... But still...." He nodded and lay me back down, making sure I was as comfortable as possible. "Urielle came back just about the time you took your nosedive. She was pretty upset. Scully's going to do another healing treatment soon, but I'm sure Urielle would like a word before that with you, if you feel up to it." Well, the truth was I didn't feel up to it, and I think Mulder knew that. But I said, "By all means. And Mulder... thanks again." Tiredly, he smiled and went off to get Urielle. The Mage fire was warmer than a wood fire, with the added benefit of being smokeless. But in spite of the fact that the temperature was fairly cozy, I pulled the blanket up to my neck. Realm etiquette being what it was, I was pretty sure that conversing with a Priestess while half naked was probably an infraction of some kind or other. Urielle came up a few moments later and sat by me. Trembling, she took my hand. "I thought you were going to die, Walter. I don't think I've ever prayed as hard. Thank you for seeing me. I know you're not feeling much like chatting right now." She put up a hand to halt my automatic protest. "Remember, I'm an empath. It's sweet of you to deny it, but I know how poorly you're feeling." I relaxed and smiled. "Well, your prayers and Scully's healing seem to have done the trick. Looks like I'm going to live." "Thank the Goddess. You are instrumental to our success, Walter. If anything were to happen to you...." I felt her distress, even without seeing her eyes fill with tears. I concentrated as much as I could on bringing her serenity and comfort. I don't know how successful I was, but she began speaking again. "Well, you are going to heal, that's the important thing. And we will find the Prince." There was something else bothering her. "What is it?" I asked softly. She smiled sheepishly. "I... I was just hoping you didn't think any the less of me.... You know, because I rode off and left you all." I chuckled. "On the contrary. It was the smartest thing you could have done - for all of our sakes." She sighed. "I just find that sort of thing so upsetting. So hurtful to the Goddess, when her children fight." "We had to defend ourselves," I pointed out. "Oh, true. The Goddess bears none of you any ill will. Our mission is a just one, and has the Goddess's blessing." "All evidence to the contrary." It slipped out before I could stop myself. To my surprise, she laughed. "The Goddess doesn't control everything, you know, Walter. If that were so, there would be no point to any being's existence. She steps in where she must and when she can. Have faith - the Goddess will help us when we can't help ourselves." I nodded tiredly. "I am trying, really. There's just so much to learn...." "Don't worry. You will know what to do when the time comes." "That's what everyone keeps saying. I wish I were as sure." She grasped my hand in both of hers, and the troubling thoughts vanished from my mind, to be replaced with a sense of calm. "Excuse me, Priestess. Warrior Priest Skinner needs another healing treament." "Of course, Healer Scully. I will see you in the morning, Walter." Urielle moved off beyond the fire to her bedroll. Scully kneeled next to me and sighed. "Sorry I was a little rough on you earlier, Walter. I came out of my trance with Tarnor, expecting to be able to relax a bit, and there you were, on the ground looking like death warmed over.... You should have told me you were wounded! We were all covered with so much blood it was impossible to tell...." "I don't think I was really aware of it myself, Scully," I explained. "The adrenalin was still pumping, and it didn't hurt. Not then, anyway." "But now...?" "Hurts like a son of a bitch." "I'll take care of that for you." "How's Tarnor?" "Sleeping. I just finished with him." She was probably exhausted, having to deal with two patients singlehandedly, after the day she had put in. I told her so. "Yeah, I'm tired. As soon as I'm finished with you, I'm going to turn in. Mulder's covering my watch so I can sleep until morning." "Will we be able to ride tomorrow? Mulder's been great, he hasn't said anything, but I know he wants to get moving." "I know," she sighed. "All he can think of is getting Shannon's baby back. But I think it shook him when he saw how badly hurt you and Tarnor were. He cares an awful lot about you, Walter." There didn't seem to be an adequate reply to that, not one I could make with any degree of comfort, anyway. She must have read my mind. "Men!" she said, smiling and shaking her head. "As to tomorrow, I don't know,Walter. We'll all have to be one hundred percent by the time we reach Maalfees Manor. As hard as it may be, we might be well advised to give ourselves another day to heal and rest. Goddess knows what we'll be getting ourselves into." I nodded, unhappily aware of the wisdom of her words. "All right now, healing time. May I enter your body as a Healer, Walter?" she asked formally. I nodded again, and felt the warmth of her hands on my chest. Once again I had the peculiar sensation fo not being alone in my own body and mind. The throbbing in my chest gradually eased, and I slept.... End of Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen As it turned out, we spent the extra day under the shelf of stone on the Great Robe Desert. The rain had been non-stop, blowing in great gray sheets across the landscape. Tarnor was recovered enough from his abdominal wound to be up and about, but was obviously weak. I got up a couple of times, just to answer the call of nature with Mulder or Jourdain by my side for support. Each time, I returned to my bedroll in a sweat and trembling from the exertion of merely walking. While we were probably fit enough to ride, we were most definitely not in any shape to try to storm the reputedly formidable Maalfees Manor. Scully wasn't worried. "Another few healing treatments through the day and one tonight and you'll be fit, Walter. Just try to keep it in perspective. In our world, you'd still be on IV's and receiving blood transfusions." She was right. Already most of the gaping slash across my ribs had been replaced with new pink skin. I guess I just felt guilty, watching Mulder prowl around restlessly. Scully noticed my eyes following her bondmate. "Don't worry. Urielle's going to talk to him and settle him down a bit. And don't feel so damn guilty. What with the battle yesterday and the healing treatments for you and Tarnor, I'm not fighting-fit either. We need to spend this time here. Mulder knows that, intellectually. It's just his emotional side that's having a problem." I cleared my throat. "I... uh... I don't know if I've ever said this in so many words. But you're good for him, Dana. I'm glad that you two have what you have together." Her cheeks flushed an attractive pink. "Thank you, Walter," she said softly. "Now get some rest." She seemed as nonplussed by my uncharacteristically personal remark as I was. But she dropped a quick kiss on my forehead when she left. ~ ~ ~ The next day dawned cold but finally clear, and we set out early. Although Tarnor and I were a bit rocky to start, the bracing air and the activity seemed to help. By midmorning, I was feeling more like my old self. Tarnor had been right about the desert - the colors were gorgeous, constantly changing with the movement of the sun. I found myself enjoying the ride. By midday, we had passed out of the desert and began climbing to a high green plateau. "We should be close," Jourdain grunted. "Just over that rise would be my guess." Led by Mulder, who was just about jumping out of his skin at that point, we rode into a little stand of trees and dismounted. Leaving the horses, we walked part of the way up the hill, then dropped to our bellies to crawl to the crest of the rise. Below us the valley was a smooth green plain, offering no cover whatsoever. And straight across from us almost a half a mile away on the cliffs opposite rose the imposing bulk of Maalfees Manor. "Christ, Mulder - Lita wasn't kidding when she said that place was a fortress!" I whispered. "Look at that place!" Surely no medieval castle built by the most paranoid or trouble-prone of nobles could have had more perfect defenses - not even Mad King Ludwig's place in the middle of that lake in Bavaria or wherever the hell it was. The cliffs on which we were perched dropped nearly straight down some two hundred feet to the valley floor. The rock had been polished to an almost glass-like finish by some prehistoric river, now long-since dried up, and then by centuries of exposure to the wind and rain. Handholds and footholds were pretty nearly nonexistent, from what I could see. At the base of the cliffs, a meadow descended gently to the bottom of the valley to rise again toward the cliff face opposite our position. Set high up into that cliff face, Maalfees Manor rose, its smooth facade unbroken by a single window for a height of maybe fifty feet. My eyes panned up to view what looked like four or five stories of habitable chambers with tall, narrow windows. Above that were the battlements, with lookout towers at all four corners and two in the center. The flags on each tower were the purple and green of Maalfees House. Beside me, I could feel Mulder's tension and frustration build. "Maybe the Prince isn't there," I suggested. There was a scurrying nearby and seconds later Tarnor squeezed in between Mulder and myself. "No, he's there. Can you feel it, Mulder?" "I feel something, some sensation of Mage power nearby," he admitted. "But it feels... different." Tarnor nodded. "What you're sensing is untrained Mage energy. You don't recognize it because you've probably never been exposed to it before. But it's there. And that means the Prince is there." I looked over at the agent. His negative vibes were beginning to give me a headache. "Well, look at it this way, Mulder. At least we know he's still alive." I didn't know about Mulder, but I was relieved. It had been bothering me - all the wilderness we had passed through getting here, the forests and desert, and the cries and snarls of the carnivores that lived and hunted there. Lots of landscape in which to lose the corpses of an infant and a small, slim teenaged girl. "A lot of good that will do if we can't get to him," he growled in return. I could see Scully looking up, surveying the black clouds rapidly forming overhead. "Let's go back down and see if we can come up with a plan," she suggested. She stared at her bondmate and I could tell they were communicating again. She was probably trying to calm him down. The waves of anger and frustration emanating from him were incredibly strong. I glanced over at Urielle and saw she was sharing the migraine-like banging that his emotions were causing. We pulled back from the cliff edge on our stomachs and began trudging down the slope to the copse where the horses were tethered. Something was bothering them - I could tell from their frightened whinnies. I caught Tarnor's expression of fear as he turned to look back at Mulder and Scully. "Mage Mulder - shield!" shouted the little gargoyle. The banging in my head was almost unbearable now, as Tarnor's warning served only to make Mulder more furious. I remembered what had been said about emotions causing a Mage storm. It looked like we were in for the mother of all Mage storms any second. "Fuck my shield! Fuck my so-called power!" he spat out. "They're doing God knows what with Shannon's child, and we're stuck over here, powerless to stop the sons of bitches!" A wind began to tear around us as the sky blackened. Scully grabbed his arms, but he shook her off. "Mulder, do it! Shield yourself now!" she shouted against the wind's roar. "Everyone - get to cover!" Urielle yelled. Aldara and Jourdain had already made it to the copse, and Tarnor and the priestess were close behind. I grabbed a kicking, protesting Scully and took off down the hill toward the stand of trees. The first crash of thunder shook the ground so hard that it brought me to my knees. As lightning split the sky, the earth continued to tremble, more violently as the seconds ticked away. "Mulder!" Scully screamed. He had stopped about halfway down the hill, his eyes rolled back in his head, his arms outstretched. Mage energy lanced the air around him. I made a move to go back for him, to do something, anything, to make him snap out of it before he ended up hurting himself or someone else. I felt a restraining hand gripping my tunic. "He'll be all right," Urielle shouted. "But we have to get away from him - quickly!" I lurched to my feet, one arm firmly around Scully's waist. I picked up Urielle with the other arm and staggered down the slope, Scully's fists beating a tattoo on my ribcage the whole way. We had almost reached the copse when we were thrown to the ground, as the once-solid earth beneath our feet undulated in ocean-like waves. A heartbeat later, there was a deafening thunderclap and then a roar that made the thunder seem mild in comparison. I guess we were all stunned senseless for a few seconds. When I picked myself up off the ground, the blackness had fled, the wind had died and the earth was once again solid and unmoving. "Mulder!" Scully scrambled to her feet and flew past me up the hill. I followed on her heels. We had nearly reached him when I looked up the hill above where he lay weakly moving. Jesus. Oh, sweet Jesus. I made a mental note never again to piss off my troublesome agent. The crest of the hill on which we had been standing seconds before.... It was just... gone. Scully had gotten Mulder into a semi-seated position. Jourdain appeared and helped prop him up. The stricken Mage was mumbling, but not making a lot of sense. Not that that was a surprise, coming from Mulder. Especially in view of what he had just apparently done. "Look!" Aldara called, softly but urgently from what was now the hilltop. Jourdain got Mulder to his feet. With Scully on his other side, they maneuvered him up the slope. We dropped to our bellies near the top and crawled the rest of the way. Seven pairs of eyes widened in shock as they surveyed the scene below. The once sheer, polished cliffs were now raw and scored, the downward angle still tricky, but nowhere near the almost perpendicular drop it had been. Huge boulders peppered the smooth green of the meadow, hundreds of them. Some had even hurtled all the way across the valley to thud to a stop against the cliffs opposite. "Thank the Goddess," murmured Urielle, to my right. "Now perhaps we have a chance." Jourdain grunted. "Better, yes. Much better. But we could still be spotted coming down the cliff and running from rock to rock." Tiredly, Mulder nodded in agreement. "Look, let's get Mulder back to our camp so he can rest," Scully urged. "We can talk about a plan down there." There were murmurs of assent. We withdrew from the newly- formed summit. Between his bondmate and the Guard Captain, Mulder could barely put one foot in front of the other. Tarnor spoke a few words and his aura glowed. Slowly, Mulder's feet rose off the ground and Scully pushed him into a reclining position. Sandwiched between them, his body was guided down the slope by Scully and Jourdain, and into the copse. The rest of us followed, too dumbstruck to speak. She unfurled her bedroll and with a gesture from the gargoyle Mage, her bondmate's body settled gently upon it. Quickly, Scully began to put her healing skills to work once more, as Aldara and Jourdain removed supplies from the saddlebags and began food preparations. Soon Mulder had been placed in a light healing trance and Scully rejoined us. Aldara passed metal plates of what I was beginning to think of as Realm MRE's - bread, cheese and strips of dried salted meat. Flasks of lukewarm tea left over from the morning completed our repast. I gathered my cloak around my shoulders. A hot meal would have been welcome in the chill, but I knew that we didn't dare risk the smoke from a fire. If the guards at Maalfees Manor were worth their salt, the little earthquake and subsequent landslide were enough to capture their attention. I just hoped they weren't inclined to send anyone over to check it out, up close and personal. Jourdain and Aldara were speaking softly to each other, Tarnor was napping and Scully had gone back to her bondmate to check his condition. Urielle wiped her empty plate and returned it to the saddlebags, then came over and sat by me. "He's done it before, you know," she commented mildly. It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about. "He has? This... this earthquake thing? Is that how you knew he wouldn't be harmed?" She nodded. "It was when the Dark Queen was creating inter- species hatred. Of course, we didn't know it was her at the time. Mage Mulder and I had been sent with a squad of soldiers to stop trouble between humans and elves in a little village north of Fairwoods. No one would listen, and bloodshed was imminent. Well, with the powers of the Dark Queen...." She paused, a thoughtful expression on her elven features. "I was powerless to stop it. Mage Mulder was not. He created a giant fireball which hung over the village square, then caused the earth to cleave in two, separating the villagers and bringing them to their senses. Then as now, I am not sure it was a conscious thing on his part. His emotions are... very powerful." I smiled. "Tell me about it. How's your head?" She grinned back, looking most unpriestess-like. "Better since Scully put him in a trance - from which he is now awakening, if I am any judge." My headache, which had abated, once again throbbed gently but insistently. I wondered absently how many of the headaches Mulder had brought me in our own world had been caused by our latent powers, rather than his inability to stick by the book. One by one the rest of our party joined Urielle and me, the last to arrive Scully, with a pale and shaky Mulder. He sat between Scully and myself, giving me a somewhat shamefaced half-smile as he settled into place. "We need a plan," Jourdain opened simply. "Can the Mages help out here?" I asked. "Maybe turn us all into birds or something?" Mulder shook his head and Tarnor smiled a little over the naivete of my question. "Would that it were so easy, Walter," he replied. "Magic isn't the answer to everything. It can help, but it is rarely the entire solution to a problem. It is a tool, like any of the other powers. With a few exceptions - like manipulation of the weather and so on - it only works if there is a tried and true spell, especially when dealing with the numbers of people in Maalfees Manor, people who have committed treason and are therefore highly motivated to resist us. I know of no spell that will either transport us across the valley to the manor, nor render all of them senseless to our incursion. Mulder's powers are, Goddess knows, much greater than mine. But still, if there is no spell...." He flapped his knobby limbs expressively and trailed off. "If we can't go across the valley, maybe we can go around," Aldara suggested. "It will take longer, but perhaps the manor is more accessible from the other side of the cliffs." "No, it's equally as bad on the other side." Six heads turned in my direction before I realized that I had been the one to utter the comment. Scully gazed at me, puzzled. "How do you know that, Walter?" "I... I don't know. I mean, I can't know, obviously." I shook my head. I guess everything was starting to catch up with me - my wound, Mulder's little demolition demonstration.... "Look, just ignore me. I don't know why I said that." But why did it feel so right to me? Urielle was looking at me strangely, but I didn't dwell on it. I was feeling pretty strange, myself. Jourdain spoke up. "Actually, Walter is correct. I had a few moments before we set out from Fairwoods, and I talked to some troll traders who were there for the Naming Day Ceremony. They had travelled extensively in this area. There is a river on the other side of Maalfees Manor. Those cliffs on which it is built rise directly out of the river, which is under constant surveillance. But even if there were no watchtowers and sentries, it would not matter. The cliffs in this area are called "The Glass Walls" because of their polished vertical surfaces. We could not climb them, even if we approached by the river." There was a short silence. "Disguise, perhaps?" Tarnor suggested. "They must need supplies in such a large manor which shelters so many people. Maybe if we disguised ourselves as traders...." "Maybe," Scully replied doubtfully. "But if I were planning to abduct the Heir to the Throne, I think I'd stockpile all the supplies I needed beforehand. That way, I could both withstand a siege and also limit the number of strangers I would have to give access to the manor. But that raises an interesting question - how the hell does anyone get in there? There are no roads, no paths, no portcullis - nothing to indicate an entrance." "I don't think we'll know that until we get closer. The entrance may be hidden. May it please the Goddess that we are able to get close enough to find out," Jourdain concluded with a sigh. He got to his feet. "Well, whatever happens, we won't need the horses. I'm going to take off their saddles and set them free." I watched him leave our circle. "Wait a minute - won't need the horses?" I asked the others, confused. "Why not?" "If we find the Prince, we'll want to get him back to Fairwoods as quickly as possible, so we'll Gate back," Mulder explained somberly. "If we don't find him...." He didn't have to complete the sentence. If we didn't find him, we would have died trying. We wouldn't be going back. Mulder sighed, and tried to muster up some enthusiasm for the seemingly impossible task at hand. "The cliff will now be easier to descend, and the boulders will help to provide some cover, but we could still be spotted, as Jourdain said. How did that cliff look to you, Aldara? Think we could manage it in a couple of candlemarks, after nightfall?" Wrapped up in my own thoughts, I didn't pay much attention to Aldara's response. Even now, descending that cliff face was going to be a tricky proposition. Yes, it was less steep and had more hand and footholds. But there was also a hell of a lot of loose rock. One misstep, and the unwary or unlucky would find themselves rolling ass over elbows to the bottom. Not something I was thrilled about trying in the daylight, let alone after dark. If only we had some form of cover.... I was aware of the gloomy silence which had descended on us all. Suddenly, Aldara pointed excitedly to the east. "Hey, Mulder! Are you doing that?" We all turned to look. From a hundred yards away, a fogbank slowly approached. It was like a small cloud, some thirty yards wide, suspended a few feet above the ground. Mulder seemed as surprised as the rest of us. "No, I'm not doing that. I don't think so anyway. Tarnor?" The gargoyle's teeth were bared in a fierce grin. "No, surely you are not, Mulder, and neither am I," he chortled. "But there's the cover we need. Jourdain! Jourdain, come here!" When Jourdain came running back, we huddled quickly. "Stay toward the back of the fogbank and follow it down the slope," the Guard Captain advised. "But don't fall behind or you'll lose your cover. When you get to the bottom, keep up with it. Use the boulders for further cover. I'll go first, then Scully. Aldara, you bring up the rear with Walter. Everyone else toward the middle. Move as fast as you can - that fogbank could disappear at any time." I hated to look a gift horse in the mouth, but getting across the valley was only one of the seemingly insurmountable problems facing us. "What about the rest of the plan?" I protested. "What are we going to do once we get across?" "Unfortunately we don't have time to discuss it," Aldara commented. "If we lose that fog, we'll lose our best chance of getting across the valley unnoticed." Once again, Urielle had been looking at me strangely since the fogbank appeared. "You worry too much, Walter," she smiled. "We'll know when we get there. Trust in the Goddess, and trust your instincts." "I think that's the Realm equivalent of 'drop back ten and punt'," joked Mulder in a stage whisper. "Or maybe, 'hang loose'." "Some plan," I grunted. Well, Mulder's mood seemed to have improved, anyway. At least my head wasn't throbbing anymore. The fog enshrouded us, damp but unexpectedly warm and comforting. I took a moment to find my center of serenity, then climbed up the hill after the others. One by one we dropped over the cliff edge, scrambling in the loose rock. The fog bank cooperated and stayed with us. It was undoubtedly just my imagination, but it appeared to slow down while we negotiated the more difficult terrain, and speed up as we hit the easier parts. Still, our descent was blind. Although I could see my feet, I couldn't make out the shapes of my companions. Occasionally there would be a soft cry of alarm and the sound of a small avalanche of pebbles. But it was impossible to know if we had all made it to the bottom more or less intact. I worked my way across the meadow, zigzagging from boulder to boulder. Dimly, I could hear Aldara behind me, and someone, possibly Tarnor, ahead. It probably took the better part of a candlemark from when we started, but finally, exhausted and dripping with sweat, I put my hands out and touched a wall of smooth, cold rock. Moments later, the fogbank cleared as if it had never been. I gazed up in alarm, but high above us the manor house overhung the cliff face, ironically sheltering us from the sharp eyes of the Maalfees sentries in the towers. I looked to my right, and seeing Jourdain's summoning gesture, joined our little group of would-be rescuers. I guessed it was time to punt.... He kept his voice low. "Look for an entrance. They have to be able to get in somehow. It may be concealed or disguised in some way. Spread out and try to find it - but don't go around the cliff to the rear. We might not be lucky enough to be shielded by the manor on that side. We'll meet back here if we can't find it, and try to figure out another plan." Plan. Yeah, right, sure. We were making this up as we went along and we all knew it. But we spread out as Jourdain had ordered, feeling along the face of the cliff. I took the extreme south end, unaccountably feeling more confident with each step I took. Suddenly, my hand was touching nothing but air. I stepped back, amazed. From across the valley, it had appeared to be a solid, unbroken wall of stone. Now that I was right on top of it, I realized that the wall stopped and began again six feet further on, and in between, a recess. A recess that blended so well with the surrounding rock that it presented a kind of optical illusion. Intensely, I scanned the ground and picked up the faint prints of horses and booted men. There had been largely-successful efforts to eradicate the tracks, but a few remained. I poked my head into the six foot deep recess. To my right was an upward slope, something between a ramp and a wide, shallow stairway. Here, no one had bothered to brush away the semi-dried horse dung or bootprints. And even more tellingly, the smaller prints of women. Excitedly I ran back to Jourdain, gathering the others as I passed. "Okay, I found it," I said softly when everyone had huddled. "There are no guards in sight, but that doesn't mean they're not around." We were about to set off when Urielle placed a restraining hand on Jourdain's arm. "I believe we need to do this with as little bloodshed as possible," she said. "What!" He stared at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. "Let me remind you, Priestess, that these people have committed treason. They are not simply going to turn over the Prince to us because we ask them nicely." "I am aware of that," she admitted gravely. "But I feel the presence of the Goddess demanding that of us - to draw blood only to defend ourselves." In spite of the fact that logic would dictate that it was insane to further lengthen our odds, I couldn't help but agree with her. It didn't make sense from a tactical viewpoint, but I was amazed to find I felt as strongly as she did. "She's right, Jourdain." He looked at me in shock and was about to protest, but Urielle stopped him. "Do you really think we would have made it this far without the Goddess's help?" "Do as the Priestess says, Jourdain," Aldara said quietly, her eyes entreating her husband. Frankly, I was a little surprised. Of the two, she was the better warrior and had always seemed the more aggressive. But perhaps she also had stronger faith. "Well, we're going to need another weapon, then," he grumbled. "One that doesn't draw blood. Mages, can you help?" Mulder looked at Tarnor. Although the agent's powers were undoubtedly stronger - if that earthquake was anything to go by - I guessed that the little gray guy was more familiar with the myriad spells of his calling than Mulder, who wasn't a permanent resident of the Realm. "I know of one which will help," responded Tarnor slowly. "It will make the objects of the spell sleep deeply for a short time. If we're quiet, it may work." Mulder frowned. "I don't know that spell." Tarnor grinned ferociously. "I came upon it myself not long ago. I can handle it. Save yourself for later. You're still weakened from creating your earthquake. And we must both keep some energy in reserve in order to Gate back. If we are too drained to properly secure our end of the Gate...." He trailed off. I remembered from what Mulder had told me that not securing a Gate was A Bad Thing. A Very Bad Thing. "Anyway, if we run into no more than five or six guards, there should be no problem handling this spell alone." Jourdain sighed. "Very well. Let's go. Mage Tarnor, position yourself where you must." At Tarnor's nod, we set off. Silently, I showed the others the recess and indicated the tracks on the ground. We slowly ascended the stair-stepped ramp. We got to the top noiselessly and without incident. A wide, thick wooden door liberally inlaid with iron strips was in front of us. Fortunately, the manor maintenance man knew his stuff - the door opened without any telltale creaks to a short dark hallway which led to a dimly-lit main corridor. From down that corridor and to the left came the sounds of two men talking and laughing. "That's the third time in a row you've beaten me! You have the luck of a damned elf, Rentil." "Luck? 'Tis not luck but skill, my friend! Though precious little skill is needed to beat the likes of you!" "My honor demands a rematch." Rentil chortled. "You can't afford a rematch, Erdo. Perhaps Blanks is not your game." "A rematch!" "Oh, very well. Consider yourself warned. Lay out the tiles again." Jourdain nodded to Tarnor, who closed his eyes and extended his arms upward. His lips moved but not a sound was uttered. After what must have been several minutes, the conversation of the two guards grew more desultory. Finally, we heard them snoring. "How long will they sleep?" Aldara whispered to the tired gargoyle Mage. "Long enough, if we don't tarry. Quiet now! They are not unconscious, but just sleeping. A loud enough noise will awaken them." "Fine. But which way do we go?" queried Scully. End of Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen We had edged out into the corridor. I thought that Fairwoods Castle was confusing, but this place was a damned maze. There were scores of doors and archways leading from the corridor in all directions. I must have been lightheaded from fatigue or our exertions in getting this far. All I know is that I felt... weird. As if I were removed from the action, viewing it from another place. Suddenly, I was certain of the direction to head in, as forcefully as if someone were shoving me from behind. I felt a totally inappropriate sense of calm suffuse me. "That way." Scully's astonishment and doubt were written all over her. "Walter! How can you possibly know?" "I suggest we let Warrior Priest Skinner guide us." Urielle's tone was soft, almost reverent. She didn't take her eyes off me. I felt a rush of love for the tiny priestess, as if she were a sweet, favored child. But... it didn't feel right. Much as I liked her, it didn't feel as if the sentiment were coming from me. I would have been more disturbed by the sensation, but once again I was enveloped in a comforting serentity.... "Can you not see it?" she whispered, awed. "Look - look at his aura!" They all turned towards me, their eyes widening. I glanced down. My hands, my arms were emitting a golden glow which appeared to grow brighter by the second. I stared at them, bewildered. Urielle's features were beatific in the glow. "Oh, Merciful Goddess! Oh, Great Merciful Goddess! Can't you see?" she smiled to the others. "The Goddess is working through Warrior Priest Skinner. She'll lead us to the Prince through Walter!" Acutely uncomfortable with the way they were all staring at me, I started down the hallway, creeping past where the two guards lay sleeping over their game. From my quick glance, it appeared to be a cross between dominoes and mah jong. The others followed, Scully and Aldara taking the time to poke their heads into the storerooms that lined this part of the hallway. I continued past the first two archways and stopped at the third. A stone staircase coiled up to the next level. "Up here. Tarnor, stay behind me. If we hear voices, you can be ready to do your thing again." Silently we went up the twisting stairway. I swear we all stopped breathing as our ears strained for the sounds of occupants. There were a few faint noises - the scrape of a boot on the flagstones of the floor, a low cough - but there was none of the helpful conversation we had heard below. There might have been one, or a hundred, of our opponents within hearing range. I nodded to Tarnor to do his stuff. The caution in his eyes was as eloquent as his lips would have been, had he been free to speak. He was making no promises that his spell would be enough to ensure us safe passage. I nodded again, and he began his spell. This time we set out one at a time, to the right and down the poorly-illuminated hallway. I went first. Fortunately, the archway I felt was the correct one was close by. I glanced up and down the corridor, then signalled to Tarnor. One by one our party silently scurried the twenty or so feet from one archway to the other. At one point I held up a warning hand when I heard a cough, then after several minutes of tense silence, signalled the go-ahead. Finally we were all together and began our ascent. About halfway up, we paused. This staircase was much longer than the other had been, which probably meant we were leaving the windowless storage areas for the more habitable levels of the manor. Unfortunately that meant that our strategy for avoiding detection was no longer going to work. We had been incredibly lucky so far. On the next level we were bound to run into more of the manor's occupants, more than Tarnor's spell could cope with. The little guy was looking pretty tired, in any case. "Are we getting close, Mulder?" I whispered almost soundlessly. He nodded and replied in the same low tones. "Closer - but I can't get an exact fix on the source of the Mage energy. It's- it's almost like a strobing or pulsating effect. Makes it hard to pin down." He turned to Tarnor, who nodded his confirmation. I sighed. "We play it by ear, folks. Just watch out for each other and watch your backs." Tarnor and Urielle dropped to the rear. It was much more likely we would be needing the talents of the warriors from now until we had recovered the Prince. We began to climb again. At the top of the stairs we heard voices and booted feet - lots of them. "Ranfaus bitch!" "Oh, so not even the King was good enough for you!" "Perhaps you can spurn that weak excuse of a King, but not the nobles of Maalfees House!" "You get to be the evening's entertainment. How do you like that, Lady High and Mighty?" There were nasty laughs from several men. Beside me, Aldara's hand went to the hilt of her dagger and there was murder in her eyes, while Scully's reflected outrage and pain. She looked pleadingly at me and Mulder. I nodded. Our mission to rescue the Prince might be critical, but there was no way we were about to let an innocent girl be raped by a bunch of Maalfees goons. I peeked out. The gang approached from our left about sixty feet away and coming closer all the time. There were six of them, probably sent to 'escort' her to her quarters. It didn't look like she was going to make it there - not intact, anyway. She was positioned between the last of the two guards, the one on her right the Guard Captain, if I read his insignia correctly. Her head was held high, though tears glinted in her eyes. An ugly livid mark on her left cheek and her torn gown gave evidence that she had already been handled roughly by her captors. Apparently she gave as good as she got - one of the guards dripped blood from where she had raked his cheek with her nails, and another limped noticeably. The guards grasped her arms so tightly they would undoubtedly leave bruises. Behind me, Mulder and Tarnor exchanged a few soft words which were lost in the clatter and thump of weapons and bootsteps. They quickly fell into 'spell mode'. Whatever they were cooking up, I hoped to hell it worked fast. The guards were within thirty feet now. "Hey! Hey, Brandnor! What's that? It looks like smoke!" The group stopped, only a few paces from where we crouched in the archway at the head of the staircase. "What now? All right... Freck, take Kellor and Pranek and check it out." "But-" "The bitch isn't going anywhere. You'll still get your turn at her. Now do as I ordered!" The three resentful guards thumped unenthusiastically past us up the hallway. In seconds, the corridor was filled with smoke. "Freck! What in the name of the Dark Creatures are you doing down there?" the leader, Brandnor, called. There was a muffled reply, too indistinct to be understood. "Horse droppings! That idiot is useless. Maybe he won't get his turn at you after all, Ranfaus bitch." He tightened his grip on Livirnea and pulled her along, past our position. It was time to make our move. Scully and Aldara had already slipped past me into the smoke-clouded hallway. As stealthy and lethal as poison, they each chose one of the remaining guards, and quickly and expertly applied chokeholds on their unwary targets. I did the same with the Captain of the Guards. Jourdain dove past us and, putting a cautionary hand over Livirnea's mouth, he grabbed her and carried her to our hiding place. Unable to see who was restraining her, she fought like a wildcat. Leaving the guards unconscious on the stone floor, we dashed back into the archway recess. "Lady Livirnea!" Jourdain whispered urgently as he tried to control the struggling girl. "Stop! It's us!" Her eyes widened in amazement and relief, and her flailing limbs relaxed. Cautiously, Jourdain put her down. "Oh sweet Goddess! It *is* you!" "Are you all right?" asked Scully gravely. "Yes - just barely." She reasserted her normally dignified, controlled demeanor. "But the Prince -" "Where is he?" Mulder asked anxiously. "Is he in any danger?" "No, he's all right. They're taking good care of him. They would - they have plans for him. This way - I'll show you!" "Wait! First, are there any guards in there with him now?" demanded Aldara. "Right now, none. There's just that dragon-woman who came with us from Fairwoods. She's the wife of one of the older nobles - Granoc, I think. They feel secure here. Most of the guards were there to watch me. They didn't trust me." She faltered and her eyes swam with tears. "I think... I think they were afraid I would kill the child rather than let him stay with them and figure in their plans. Goddess help me, I thought of it... but I just couldn't do it." Scully gave her a reassuring hug. "It's all right. We're here now, and we're going to get both the Prince and you out of here. All right, now show us how to get to him." Having something positive to do seemed to help the girl control her emotions again. She nodded. "I'll take you the safest way. It's less direct, but we stand a much better chance of avoiding more people that way." "Good girl," Mulder smiled approvingly. "That's just what we want. All right, let's go before the rest of the goons come back when they figure out that you *can* have smoke without a fire." ~ ~ ~ We crouched in an alcove less than a dozen paces from the chamber in which the Prince was being held. I couldn't even begin to remember the convoluted, circuitous route by which we had arrived. Now that Livirnea was on the scene, the Goddess was evidently needed elsewhere, because my enhanced sense of direction had left me. Speed was of the essence now. It was only a matter of time before any of the guards we had left unconscious in our path began to wake up and sound an alarm. On our tense trip up here, we had run into a few of Maalfees' finest. Jourdain, Aldara and Scully had efficiently applied chokeholds or banged their heads with the hilts of their knives, and dragged their unconscious prey out of sight to clear the way for the rest of us. I still wondered about my role in all of this. Yes, the Goddess had worked through me to help us find Livirnea. Maybe I even had something to do with the appearance of that fortuitous fogbank, I don't know. But was that all? Was that the reason Daanna had insisted that I go with the search party? Or was my contribution yet to come? Once again I reached into myself, seeking, and finding, that serene core I was coming to depend on more and more. "All right," Jourdain was saying. "Livirnea, you go in first. Your presence won't be entirely out of the ordinary. Leave the door ajar so we can hear what's going on in there. Get to the dragon-woman and see that she doesn't call out. Then the rest of us will come in. Think you can do that?" "My pleasure." The normally quiet, serious girl allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. "Good. Aldara, you take over for Livirnea once we get in there. See to it that the dragon-woman behaves herself - by whatever means you deem necessary. Scully - you get to the Prince. Check him out, make sure he's all right. I'll watch the door with Walter while Tarnor and Mulder get started on that Gate. Mages, make it as quick as you can - we won't have much time. When the Gate is ready, Livirnea, you go through first with the Prince, then Urielle, then everyone else. It's going to be important to go through fast. Everyone understand?" Livirnea took a deep breath, smoothed her tattered gown, and walked calmly to the door of the chamber and went in. "What are you doing back here?" asked a hoarse voice from the room. "I would have thought you would have your hands full, raising the morale of our troops." There was a nasty cackle, broken off abruptly. "What-!" "Let's go," Jourdain said, and in seconds we were all in the huge chamber. I looked for a lock, or deadbolt, or anything to secure the door before remembering that that wasn't the norm here in the Realm. Livirnea was struggling to hold the noblewoman, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Aldara went right for the noblewoman with her knife drawn and nodded to Livirnea to back away. "One word, one sound, and I'll use it. Understood?" The Maalfees noblewoman nodded, glaring malevolently. The infant's aura drew Scully like a beacon in a fog. Cradling him in her arms, she quickly did a cursory check of his temperature and breathing. "He seems fine," she observed with obvious relief. Mulder grabbed for the crystal he wore on a chain around his neck and peered into it intently. In seconds, I could hear Hannu's voice acknowledging him. "We're ready and we need to make it quick, Hannu. Is Reinald with you?" "I just sent a runner for him, Mulder. We've been taking turns since dawn, waiting here in the courtyard for your signal. Don't worry, I'll start and he can join in when he gets here. Do you have my grandson?" "Both the Prince and Livirnea are with us and are fine. But- " The hallway outside reverberated with the sounds of weapons jangling and booted soldiers running. "But I think we've worn out our welcome. Tarnor and I will start things from our end now. Be ready!" He dropped the crystal as he and Tarnor lost no time getting into their trance. Ringlets of blue-white Mage energy coursed down their arms, their legs, their torsos, bright enough to hurt the eyes. I began looking for something to do, some way to help. "Jourdain - give me a hand." Together we pushed a tall heavy armoire against the door. Hopefully, it would buy us enough time to Gate out of there. Then again, it might not... Jourdain didn't look happy about our situation. There was a thump at the door. "Lady Vilga! Lady Vilga, are you in there? Are you all right? We have intruders!" Aldara pointed the knife meaningfully at the woman's throat. She swallowed convulsively, then shouted out, "Go away, Brandnor - you'll wake the child!" There was a moment of hesitation. We dared to hope that the dragon-woman's assurance was enough to send the soldiers away, but it was short-lived. "Open the door, Lady Vilga. I want to see for myself!" Just then, the Prince let out a lusty squawl at being disturbed from his nap. For a split second, Aldara's attention was diverted, but it was enough. The noblewoman twisted from her grasp and began to yell. "They're here! They- " Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aldara throw an impressive hook, and the woman went down like a sandbag. Much as I would have liked to remark on her prowess, at that moment Jourdain and I were throwing our weight against the armoire in an attempt to keep out the squad of soldiers trying their best to get in. A quick glance at Mulder showed that the Mages were fully involved in Gate building now, a terrifying column of blue fire climbing to the high ceiling, and twisting like a serpent. At some point Scully must have handed the baby over to Livirnea. I found her at my side, adding her slight weight to our all-too-temporary blockade. "How much more time, Scully?" I panted. "How much more time do they need?" She took a quick look. "We're a couple of minutes away. Somehow we have to buy them that time!" Well, our impromptu blockade wasn't going to do it. I turned and caught Jourdain's eyes. He knew it too. Already, the armoire had been pushed back a good six inches. Another few seconds and the door would be open enough for the goons from the hall to start pouring in. "Stay here," Jourdain grunted. "Keep your weight against it. If we can prevent the door opening all the way, they'll have to come in one by one. We might be able to hold them. Scully, Aldara - with me." I nodded, not wanting to waste my breath talking. I repositioned myself at the center of the armoire and dug in. "I'm ready." I said, and braced myself. Jourdain, Scully and Aldara leapt to the entryway, swords drawn, to meet the first of the Maalfees goons. Then all hell broke loose. In seconds, the trio were battling twice their number. All promises to the Goddess were off now - they were fighting for their lives. Already three Maalfees soldiers lay on the floor, the stones running slick and scarlet with their blood, their bodies ironically helping to limit the numbers of their comrades from entering. I was heaving so hard the sweat ran off me in rivers and my veins stood out like ropes. Frantically I glanced over my shoulder. The roaring column of blue-white Mage energy was now bent towards the floor, the Mages trembling with their efforts to control it. Livirnea stood nearby, poised to dash through the moment it was secured. The area encompassed by the near-arch was swirling, coalescing into something that was not quite discernible yet, but becoming clearer by the second. "Aaagh- !" My head whipped back in time to see Jourdain's sword dispatch one of the Maalfees soldiers - but not before one of his buddies had sunk his knife hilt-deep in the big man's lower chest. "Jourdain!" "It's secured!" Livirnea shouted, and, Heir to the Throne in her arms, hurried though the pulsating blue portal. Our job was done. Now all we had to do was get the hell out of there alive. I drew my sword. "Scully - you and Aldara take Jourdain through." "But- " "That's an order! I'll hold them off and stay with Mulder." As the women sagged beneath the burden of the big man's weight and pulled back from the door, I dived in. My unconventional swordsmanship caught the well-trained Maalfees troops unawares, and I probably got in a few strikes I shouldn't have. But they were driving me back steadily; it was all I could do to prevent them from flanking me. The pileup of bodies partially blocking the door was the only thing saving me from being completely outmanned and cut down in my tracks. "Mulder!" "Tarnor, go! I'll hold the Gate until Walter gets through. Walter, come on!" Mulder urged. As the gargoyle scurried through the archway, I could vaguely pick out the forms of those of our party who had made it to safety on the other side of the Gate. I got in a lucky slice at my current opponent and he dropped to the floor. For once, there was no one to immediately take his place, though several goons were trying to clear the bodies from the door. Once they did that.... Spinning, I rushed to the Gate. "We're out of time! Go on, Mulder!" Mulder looked terrible, completely worn out by the fight to control the Gate under impossible conditions. He gave me a shove toward the portal. "No... have to go last.... Have to keep it... secured... until we go through. Go, Wal- aaagh!" Brandnor had at last burst through the door over the bodies of his comrades. At Mulder's cry, I jerked around in time to see the son of a bitch's hand on the hilt of the knife protruding from the Mage's shoulder blade. Blind with rage, I slashed out with my sword, neatly decapitating him. But the damage was done. As Mulder fought desperately to remain conscious, the Gate seemed to take on a life of its own. Tendrils of energy broke away from the arch, coiling and thrashing like high tension lines in a hurricane. I hoisted Mulder over my shoulder in a fireman's carry. Beyond the Gate, I could see Reinald and Hannu fighting to control the runaway energy from their side. But their images were getting less and less distinct. I didn't know until later that only a deluded and suicidal moron would have tried to go through an unstable Gate. As they say, ignorance is bliss, I guess. My eyes on the thrashing ropes of energy, I timed my leap. Clutching Mulder, I took a deep breath and dived through. An unholy roar filled my ears and I landed hard on the cobblestones of Fairwoods courtyard. Fortunately, Mulder was on top of me, and not underneath. I yelled... something. Reinald looked appalled, but Hannu appeared grasp whatever the hell I said. In an instant, just as searing heat and debris blasted through what was left of the Gate, it disappeared. Reinald and Hannu sagged to the cobblestones. It was just a guess, but it occurred to me that back at Maalfees Manor, things had just gone from bad to worse. End of Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Some of what happened next I was unaware of while it was going on, and various beings filled me in later. At the time, I was too busy laying stunned and senseless on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Apparently Lishla, there to observe Gating under Reinald's tutelage, took charge. As soon as Aldara and Scully stumbled through the Gate dragging Jourdain between them, the elven apprentice had sent a runner for Kyla. Fortunately, the Healer was already on her way, wanting to check the Prince when he arrived. She soon had her hands full. Scully had knelt at Jourdain's side to enter his body as a Healer, to stop the heavy bleeding from his chest wound. Kyla joined her just about the time Mulder and I made our precipitous arrival. What with Hannu and Reinald on the ground, dropped by exhaustion and the aftereffects of the uncontrolled Gate, and Jourdain's serious wound, Mulder and I lay stunned and almost unnoticed. Finally Urielle raised the alarm when she saw the dagger protruding from Mulder's back. Judging by their facial expressions, the Healers seemed to exchange some sort of communication, then Scully ran over to us. Two guards lifted Mulder off me and gently set him prone on the cobblestones. Scully was... Scully. Shutting away her emotions, she set to work on Mulder with spare, economic movements. Almost unmarked in all the activity, King Andalor and Queen Shannon arrived. Livirnea proudly handed the wailing heir back to his mother, who was close to hysterical with relief. The King spent a few moments welcoming his son home, and then looked around at all the unconscious and semiconscious men on the ground. Hurriedly, he sent for litter bearers. At that point, Tarnor was having a tough time even staying on his feet; casting a levitation spell for all who needed it was out of the question. I dragged myself over to Mulder's side. His bleeding now controlled, Scully had removed the knife. He twitched and mumbled for a few moments before his breathing became the slow and even respirations of sleep. His bondmate sighed, then opened her eyes and became aware of my presence. "I think it's okay, Walter. Fortunately, the knife caught him in the scapula. The bone's chipped and hurts like hell, and there's some muscle trauma, but it stopped the knife from passing through to any vital organs. At the moment, I'm more concerned with the effects of the Gate." I nodded. Getting to my feet, I put a hand out and helped her to stand. She was covered in blood. "Jourdain?" She bit her lip. Hesitantly she admitted, "I don't know, Walter. He's in shock from blood loss. His spleen was ruptured, and I think the very bottom of his left lung was punctured. He's... I just don't know." We watched as Kyla directed the first pair of litter bearers, gently lifting the injured Captain of the Guards and carrying him off to her cottage, a blood-soaked and tearful Aldara at their side. We weren't the only ones watching the drama. Andalor, his arm around Shannon, approached us. "Scully, how is Mulder?" he asked gravely. "His injury will heal. But he's exhausted, and the unstable Gate.... I'm not sure. Damage due to the use of Mage powers is largely beyond the scope of Healers." He nodded. "This isn't the right time or place - but Shannon and I want you to know how grateful we are." "I couldn't forgive myself if- " Shannon's tears of joy had turned to tears of regret and fear as she gazed at the men lying on the cobblestones. "Mulder... my father... Reinald... and poor Jourdain.... Oh, Scully, I'm so sorry!" she cried brokenly. She gave the Queen a reassuring hug. "It will be all right, Shannon. Go on back to your chamber. I'm sure your son's hungry." That was putting it mildly. The kid had been protesting non- stop and was frantically rooting at the front of Shannon's gown, looking for his next meal. "Don't worry, Your Majesty," I said. "We'll keep you and King Andalor informed." They nodded gravely, and set off back to the castle. Scully turned her attention to the litter bearers, who had finally arrived in force and were looking for instructions. "Take the Mages to their chambers," she directed. "I'll be right there." I noticed she had gotten pale and was visibly trembling as she watched the bearers move away with their precious cargoes. Livirnea and Urielle followed, helping the exhausted little gray guy stay on his feet. "Scully? Sc- " I think she would have passed out if I hadn't grabbed her. "Dana? Are you all right?" She buried her head against my chest and my arms automatically encircled her. She never made a sound, but from the dampness I was feeling through my shirt, I knew she was crying. I just held her and stroked her hair, murmuring incomprehensible nothings. But I felt it - and evidently she did too. That serenity, that calm, that comfort.... She sniffled, then giggled a little before finally pulling out of my arms. "You should bottle that stuff, Walter. Beats the hell out of Prozac." A little self-conscious, I smiled down at her. "You gonna be okay?" Scully nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine now. It's just reaction to... everything. It always happens. But I'm okay now. Thank you, Walter. Thank you for saving Mulder." Sighing, I frowned. "I'm just sorry I didn't do a better job of it." She shook her head impatiently. "You didn't stab him; they did. And you risked taking him through that damned Gate. Do you have any idea what would have happened if you hadn't done that?" she asked. We began walking to the castle. "Yeah - we would have been surrounded and hacked to death by the Maalfees goons." She laughed shortly and without humor. "They wouldn't have had the chance. Mulder lost control of the Gate when they stabbed him. That Gate was built by four Mages, three of them arguably the most powerful in all the Realm. Walter, a second after you carried Mulder out of there through the Gate, Maalfees Manor and the cliffs it sat on were undoubtedly vaporized by the uncontrolled Mage energy." My steps faltered for a moment and then resumed their regular cadence. "I guess that explains the debris and the heat that blasted us from the arch." She nodded. "Furthermore, if you hadn't gotten through to Hannu, telling him and Reinald to shut down the Gate on their end, Fairwoods could have suffered the same fate." This time I stopped dead. "*I* did that? I don't recall saying anything like that." She halted and turned, looking at me strangely. "You came through the Gate, bellowing at them to close it. You don't remember that?" Concerned now, she held my chin, checking my pupils. Gently, I brushed her hands away. "I'm fine, Scully. I just don't remember saying that." "Maybe *you* didn't. Maybe you had help," she said, searching my face. "The Goddess?" She nodded. "And maybe that's why Daanna insisted that I go with the search party?" Thoughtfully, she nodded again. "The fogbank... your directional sense in the Manor... closing the Gate. It makes sense." We once more began walking in the direction of the castle. "I've been wondering about that myself." I shook my head. "Shit, Scully. All this is so foreign to me, so unreal. But it's happening. It's really happening, right?" We entered the castle through an archway and climbed the winding staircase up to our level. "Yes, it's actually happening, Walter," she agreed gravely. We strolled in silence through the hallways to our respective doors. "Why don't you clean up and get some rest? I'll be busy with Mulder for a while. Then I suppose I'd better check on the other Mages and see how they're doing, even if I can't help all that much. Kyla will have her hands full with Jourdain." "Sure you're going to be all right now?" She smiled, back to the controlled, capable Scully I was so familiar with. "I'll be fine. Thanks again, Walter." I nodded and waited until she went into the chamber she shared with Mulder. Suddenly exhausted, I pushed open the door to my own room. I got as far as the bed when the urge to sleep overwhelmed me. Climbing fully clothed onto the high bed, I kicked off my boots and was asleep before they hit the floor. ~ ~ ~ "Well, would you look at the state of yourself!" I opened one eye to find Lita standing in my doorway with her hands on her hips. She moved aside to let Tilfo enter with hot water for my bath. "Aye, after all your good works, you must have been exhausted. Well, your breakfast is here, and your bath almost ready." Stiffly, I slid out of bed, still dressed in my filthy and bloodstained clothes from the day before. I stretched to try to get the soreness out of my body. "What's going on, Lita? Any word about how Jourdain's doing? And Mulder? What about the other Mages?" "Sit yourself down, Warrior Priest, and I'll bring you up to date. As the Goddess knows, I'm not a gossip, but I do get to hear a thing or two in my travels...." That was an understatement. While she served breakfast and fussed over me, she talked nonstop. "Mages Reinald and Hannu are doing well this morning. Still tired, but well enough to take little Daanna for her lessons as usual. Mage Tarnor is the best of the lot. He was on his way to see the King when I last saw him." "What about Mulder?" I asked, my mouth full of bread and cheese. "I was getting to him," she said with exaggerated patience. "More porridge? Bread? Oh, all right.... Mage Mulder is better. Not himself quite yet, but better. He's staying in bed at Warrior Healer Scully's command, but not happy about it. Still having pain between his treatments, but he's had worse before, so I expect he'll be right as rain in no time. Scully - she's exhausted, the poor thing. She was up most of the night, worrying over her bondmate, then checking on the other Mages, making sure all was well. Then, just as she was about to finally get some sleep, Aldara came for her at the run." "Jourdain?" I asked in alarm. "Is Jourdain all right?" I both liked and respected the Captain of the Guards, admired his values and the quiet dignity with which he conducted himself. Given enough time, I thought we could become good friends. But from the shape he was in the day before, I began to doubt we would have that time. "Drink your tea and have a little patience," Lita shot back smartly. "I was coming to that. Now, where was I? Oh, yes... Captain Jourdain was very ill indeed. I don't think I've ever seen Healer Kyla look so worried or work so hard. He had lost so much blood, y'see, and even a wonderful Healer like Kyla has limits. Aldara, poor mite, never left his side, and all the while her big green eyes showing so much fear.... Anyway, Healer Kyla had gotten him stable and all seemed to be going well for a while. Then suddenly, there was some sort of a setback, and she was losing him. So she sent Aldara running for Warrior Healer Scully. Three full candlemarks they worked on him, and brought him back. He was well on the way to taking the Journey, I tell you. 'Twas a miracle they were able to save him." "How is he now?" "Even here, such wounds are not cured in a day, Warrior Priest," she admonished me. "It will take time. But he is out of danger, Healer Kyla is sure of that now. Later today, he will be moved back to his own cottage, another good sign. He's strong and battle-hardened. If he has survived Aldara's cooking all this time, he'll survive this," she finished firmly. "She's that bad a cook, huh?" Lita rolled her eyes dramatically. "The stories I could tell you!" I smiled, then sobered. "How's Daanna taking all of this?" Sighing, she replied, "She's a puzzle, that little one. I've known that child since the day she was born, and I still can't figure her out. But neither can her parents, nor Reinald or Hannu, so I'm in good company. Do you know what she told Reinald?" I shook my head in response, but Lita, busy building a roaring fire in the hearth, didn't notice. Not that it mattered. It would take the powers of five Mages to stop Lita from talking when she was in full speight. She collected so much information, much of it obviously first-hand, that I began to wonder if she ever slept. "Well, Reinald broke the news to her about her father, fearing the worst. But she was calm as a summer sky. Just said, 'Oh, I know. I just didn't want to scare them. But Daddy will be all right. They said so'." "So she knew?" I exclaimed incredulously. "She knew all along? Those... those voices in her head told her that her father would be wounded, but would survive? And she just accepted it?" Christ. And I thought Mulder was spooky. Lita sighed again. "Evidently." "But why didn't- " "Why didn't she say something to them, warn them?" The elven servant shrugged. "Perhaps it was fated. Unavoidable." "And she reasoned that by telling them, they might have done something differently, consciously or unconciously. Something that might have altered the outcome of our mission." "That's what Reinald and Hannu seem to think, anyway. Now, if you've finished eating, your bath is ready. And if you don't mind my saying so," she observed, wrinkling her pert nose, "you are more than overdue for it." ~ ~ ~ I felt a hundred percent better after a bath and changing into clean clothes. The door to Mulder and Scully's room was closed. I didn't hear any movement inside so I assumed they were asleep. At loose ends, I decided to see if Jourdain was up to a visit. Of course, Kyla would be there too.... The day was spectacular - sparkling clear and cool, with little wind. In spite of the previous days in the saddle, I promised myself a ride out into the countryside later. I noticed that Fairwoods was still relatively crowded. Apparently those who had come for the Naming Day Ceremony had hung around, waiting to see what would happen. The thought of sitting through another interminable ritual was enough to make me cringe. I also noticed some of the King's troops standing guard around an impressively large dwelling. Although the standards outside were bare, I surmised that this was Maalfees' clan headquarters here in Fairwoods. I had wondered about the punishment that the plotters would receive. The crowd at Maalfees Manor, of course, had been vaporized by the Gate and were beyond worldly punishment, but the remainder of the Noble House here would have to be dealt with. Certainly they had known about the plot, if not actively participated in it. Murder, treason, kidnapping... surely capital offences. Although not squeamish by nature, I had no desire to end my time in this remarkable place by witnessing a mass execution, no matter how richly the prisoners deserved it. I walked up the path to Kyla's cottage, knocked, and entered. In the cot I had occupied on my arrival in Fairwoods lay Jourdain, uncharacteristically pale and vulnerable. Kyla had evidently been dozing in the chair by the hearth. She looked exhausted, her plain gown still spattered with Jourdain's blood, and tendrils of hair escaping her normally neat braid. When she saw me, she started to rise. "No - don't get up," I whispered. I went quietly to the hearth and bent down to kiss her fire-warmed cheek. "How's he doing?" "Better." She smiled wanly. "It was a long and difficult night, and he will need treatments for at least ten days yet. But he will heal." "And how are you doing?" She waved dismissively. "Mage Hannu will be here later to levitate Jourdain back to his cottage. After that, I will have a chance to clean up and get some rest. Don't worry, Walter," she smiled. "Who, me? I wasn't worried." "Yes, you were. You know, as an empath, you transmit your feelings very easily." I smiled ruefully. "Looks like I can't get away with anything." "That is correct. And don't you forget it," she replied teasingly. Then she sobered. "Scully told me you had been injured." "Just a cut - nothing serious." "Let me see." Reluctantly, I pulled my shirt up so she could see the side of my chest. "Healer Scully does good work," she commented appraisingly. "Still, it must give you some pain... it is not fully healed, and there are places where the wound edges have pulled apart and you have bled again." I snorted. "With what's been going on the last couple of days, I'm not surprised. All things considered, I got out of it lightly." "Let me- " "No. No, Kyla. You've done enough healing for today. You're exhausted." "Does it show?" I smiled. "I'm an empath, remember?" "When I have rested, I shall expect to see you for a treatment," she said with mock severity. "When you have rested, I'll be here with bells on." She looked puzzled. "With bells on? Why would you wear bells, Walter?" I laughed softly. "It's just an expression from my world. I guess it doesn't translate very well." She sank back down in her chair. There was a short silence, then she said quietly, "I did not get much of a chance to talk to you after the Prince was taken. Did you have the opportunity to speak to the Royal Priestess? Or to Urielle?" I sighed. "To both, for all the good it did me. Basically, they repeated what you and Mulder said. Since my combination of talents is unprecedented, no one seems to know what the rules are. The Royal Priestess said the Goddess would let me know what to do - to 'listen with my heart'." Serenely, she nodded, but her eyes shone with happiness. God, how I wanted to take her in my arms. I practically had to clamp my hands to my sides not to act on the impulse. I shook my head. "But I don't know, Kyla. I'm not sure what I'm hearing. Is it the Goddess, giving us her blessing? Or am I hearing only what I want to hear? And there's another thing.... I'm only a visitor here. Soon, I'll be going back to my world. Is it fair to you - is it fair to either of us - to act on what we feel?" She shrugged. "I can't answer that for you, Walter. I know you will return to your world, and I accept that." She looked at me straight in the eyes. "And I know that I will be content with whatever time we have, whatever time you are willing to give me." "You deserve better," I said quietly. "That is for me to decide." There was stirring from the cot. I went over and crouched down. The big Captain was awake, his face etched in pain. I took his hand. "How are you doing, Jourdain?" "I have... been better, my friend. Wh- what happened.. after we Gated out?" Briefly I told him everything that had gone on, although I left out the part about Daanna, and glossed lightly over Mulder's injury. "The Prince?" "He's fine. Back with his parents, as if nothing had happened." He nodded. "The King... what will happen... about Maalfees?" "I don't know, Jourdain. I haven't seen him since shortly after we returned. Their manor here in Fairwoods is under guard, but that's all I know." He nodded, and a gasp of pain escaped from his lips. "Jourdain...." I felt his pain and fear, and concentrated as much comfort as I could to the place where our hands joined. Moments later, he sighed softly, and the lines of pain on his face became less pronounced. "You truly... have the gift, Walter," he said, his eyes closing. "It's time for a treatment, Captain Jourdain," said Kyla softly. "Mage Hannu will be here soon to take you back to your cottage." "Aldara- ?" "Aldara's fine. She's just getting some sleep. She'll be awake to greet you on your return." "Relax now, Jourdain," I said. "Let Kyla make you feel better. You'll be well enough to teach me more about swordfighting in no time." He nodded. As I moved away from the cot, Kyla took my place. "Will I see you later, Walter?" she asked. She didn't elaborate, but we both knew what she meant. "I hope so.... I have some 'listening' to do." She smiled gravely and nodded, then turned to Jourdain to begin the healing treatment. I let myself out quietly. End of Chapter Eighteen *****R/NC-17***** Those under eighteen or who object to fairly graphic consentual sex, please bail out now. Suffice to say, Skinner and Kyla consummate their relationship, okay? Now go on to Chapter Twenty. All others - full steam ahead... and I do mean steam. Chapter Nineteen Mulder was awake when I got back. Evidently I had just missed a visit by his favorite Protocol Minister. I smiled. "I'm surprise you didn't have a relapse on the spot." "Tea, Walter?" "Please, Scully." "I almost did," Mulder replied dryly. "I think the only thing that prevented it was his mood." "Which was?" "Pissed is putting it mildly." He took the mug Scully offered with a smile of thanks. "Apparently King Andalor spoke to him about the Naming Day Ceremony. Ballorca, of course, wanted to take the whole thing again from the top. Thank God the King pulled rank. Everyone's been through enough in the past few days without having to sit through all that again. And I'm not sure how much I would be able to participate - I'm under strict healer's orders to take it easy. Anyway, Andalor saw no reason to repeat those parts of the ceremony that had already taken place." I snorted. "Since when did you ever follow doctor's orders?" "When it suits my purposes to do so." He grinned back, unrepentant. "And the idea of chanting for hours made me seriously think a relapse might be in order. So I lay here looking as pathetic as possible while Ballorca vented his spleen, ranting and raving about the break in tradition being impossible, unthinkable, yadda, yadda, yadda. But the King had spoken - fortunately - so he had no choice but to obey. No doubt he thinks the Realm is going to Hell in a handbasket. But tomorrow there will be an abbreviated ceremony... well, as abbreviated as these things ever get here." I sipped my tea. "I owe you one, Mulder. I'm not sure I could have sat through all that again." "I don't think Andalor was looking forward to it any more than we were," commented Scully, perched on the bed next to Mulder. "I think at least subconsciously he blames the long, drawn out ceremony for giving the Maalfees conspirators the time to pull off the Prince's abduction." I grunted. "He has a point. Speaking of which - what is Andalor going to do about Maalfees? Have you talked to him?" Mulder nodded. "He stopped in to see how I was doing. Poor kid looked tired. Bad enough the extremely vocal demands of the young Prince kept him up, but he's also losing sleep deciding what to do about Maalfees. I'll say this, he's bending over backwards to be fair. He's spent candlemarks conferring with Lord Mandor, Reinald and Prince Mavor, trying to reach a decision. Something that will punish Maalfees and serve as a deterrent to future plotters, but not send the Houses into open revolt in convenient sympathy for their noble brothers." "How does the legal system work? Will there be a trial? I got a little insight from what Scully told me about Reinald's trial, but that hardly makes me an expert." Scully fielded that one. "I'm not sure anyone is an expert, in this case. It was an unprecedented act, at least in scope. Evidently the Council of Representatives will meet, but since Lord Granoc of Maalfees has already confessed - with a distinct lack of remorse, I might add - an actual trial won't be necessary. It's just what retribution to exact that's in question." She sighed. "Since their son is back and unharmed, both the King and Shannon have gotten a lot less bloodthirsty." "I'm glad to hear that, anyway. So - how are you feeling, Mulder?" He shrugged. "I'll live. I think I have more of a hangover from the damned Gate than anything else. The shoulder hurts, but Scully's taking care of that. It's getting better with every treatment." He paused, then went on, "By the way, thanks for hauling my ass out of there. I was trying to tell you that we had to make a hasty exit, but I was" - his lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile - "at an uncharacteristic loss for words at the time. Seriously, Walter - thank you." Gratitude has always embarrassed me for some reason. I passed it off lightly. "My pleasure, Mulder. You have no idea how many times I've wanted to sling you over my shoulder and drag you out of some of mess you've managed to get yourself into." "Well, glad to see I've fulfilled one of your fantasies," he replied dryly. He shot a dirty look at Scully, who was still giggling at my comment. I imagine she'd often felt the same way. He clearly wanted to change the subject. "Any idea how Jourdain's doing?" "Yeah - just saw him as a matter of fact. He looks... well, rough. He's in a lot of pain, looks weak. But Kyla said he should be okay - it will just take some time." I drained my mug and stood to leave. "Off so soon, Walter?" Scully questioned. "Uh... yeah. It's a nice day out. I thought I'd take a ride outside the walls." Her eyebrow arched in surprise. "I would have thought you'd have had enough riding for a while." "I guess I discovered that I really missed it. I've got some thinking to do, anyway. I always seem to do a better job of it when I'm outside, surrounded by nature." I'm sure they knew exactly what I'd be thinking about. Scully slid off the bed to plant a kiss on my cheek, then Mulder extended his hand. I grasped it briefly, feeling his emotions - his sympathy, his friendship, his unselfish desire for me to find the same sort of happiness he had found with Scully. Overwhelmed by their depth of feeling and acutely uncomfortable, I beat a hasty retreat out of there. ~ ~ ~ I let my horse lead the way, along trails that were no doubt familiar to it. It had gotten a little warmer but the air still remained as invigorating as a crisp autumn day in the Pacific Northwest. Except for ducking under the occasional low-hanging branch, I had nothing to do but enjoy the out-of-doors and think. I kept coming up with the same decision - that I would forever regret it if I let this opportunity for closeness pass by. That what I felt for Kyla could be love, no matter how bizarre the circumstances I found myself in. Indeed, the beings of this strange reality had proven themselves to be every bit as capable of love and hate, courage and cowardice, integrity and duplicity as those in my own world. I had even come to the point of developing a real sense of attachment for the Realm and its beings - especially one. Not that I didn't have some reservations about my decision - primarily, the fact that I'd be leaving soon. I had no idea of what the relative timeframes were in my world and this one, but surely the day would be arriving all too soon when I would have to leave this incredible place. After all, it wasn't like I'd be able to call Kyla from my celphone, or drop by for the weekend. Then again.... I made a mental note to ask Mulder about the extreme possibilities.... The air had grown warmer and more humid, and the vegetation more lush - almost tropical, with giant ferns and small palm-like trees. Over exotic birdcalls there was the sound of cascading water, increasing in volume as we ambled down the path. The thick canopy of dappled green overhead was broken by a small open area off to my right. I urged my mount onto a narrower path that led in that direction. The idyllic scene took my breath away - a pool formed by hot springs, reflecting the sunlight off the blue-green of the water though a mist of iridescent vapor. Tall trees and rocks ringed the pool, which was about fifty feet in diameter. Directly across from my vantage point was a small waterfall, less than two dozen feet in height and roughly half that in width. I slid down off the huge Realm horse and tied the reins loosely to a bush. It immediately began grazing on the abundant grass nearby. Cautiously, I dipped my fingers into the pool, to my delight finding it hot, but not scalding. It didn't take ten seconds for me to strip naked and dive in. When I surfaced, the sharp tang of the air contrasted satisfyingly with the warmth of the water. I dove again, feeling the caress of mineral bubbles sweep the length of my body. The pool was unexpectedly deep and clear, and I played in its blue-green depths for some time. Then I pulled myself out to sit on a sun-warmed rock, steam rising from my heated body in the cool air. A thought occurred to me, and I clambered over the boulders towards the waterfall. The spray confirmed my suspicions that the torrent would be significantly cooler than the water in the pool. I intended to have a sauna, Realm- style. When I had showered in the brisk cascade until chilled, I would dive back into the hot water of the pool, and repeat the sequence until I felt thoroughly cleansed and relaxed in mind and body. Then I would ride over to see Kyla. I crawled over the rocks ringing the pool to the left, which skirted the back of the waterfall to a rocky shelf. Entering the chilly flow, I gasped at the power of the cold cascade. Inadvertantly, I backed up a little to get out of the force of the torrent, and yelped in surprise when my back collided with cool flesh. I wheeled around to see who shared my idyllic spot. At the same time, a curtain of long wet blonde hair swung toward me. It was Kyla, and once again my breath left me. If I had had years in which to concoct a fantasy, it couldn't have even come close to this reality. She was... beautiful. Her hair hung loosely to her waist, waving slightly. Her midnight blue eyes first widened in surprise, and then warmed in welcome as she recognized me. Her smile alone lit up the shaded rocky platform on which we stood. The spray from the waterfall pelted her high, full breasts, her nipples deep pink and already pebbled. I made no effort to hide the inevitable response of my own body. She laughed throatily. "Well, Walter, it appears you have your answer. Indeed, the Goddess seems to be throwing us together." My hand trembled slightly as I reached out to caress her face. "It certainly looks like it." She almost purred with my touch and stepped closer to me, her hands brushing against my chest. "You have a duty to serve your Goddess, you know," she said with mock gravity. I smiled. "My spiritual Goddess - or my earthly one?" "Both, I hope." Slowly, she put her arms around my neck and pressed her mouth to mine, opening eagerly when my tongue sought entry. I moaned low in my throat as her hips undulated against my throbbing erection. Seemingly of their own volition, my hands roamed her body, skimming the silk of her back, lifting the weight of her breasts, my thumbs teasing her nipples, then returning to squeeze the globes of her bottom, forcing her hips more firmly against my own. I wrenched my mouth from hers. "Goddess, I love you, Kyla. But are you sure?" Two deceptively strong hands clutched at my ass as she peppered my chest with small, open-mouthed kisses. "I was never... so sure... of anything... in my life...." With a growl, I sank to the stone platform just out of the torrent, pulling her down on top of me. Enveloped in her thick curtain of hair, we explored every crevice of each other's mouths, then moved to unexplored territory. She sucked my earlobe, nipping playfully as her fingers wove through the hair on my chest and toyed with my nipples. While I would have revelled in her touch forever, I decided it was time I took charge of the situation. Rolling over quickly, I pinned her to the ground under me, kissing and biting at her throat, her shoulders as she moaned encouragement. In happy surprise, she cried out as I took one hardened nipple in my mouth, sucking strongly as my fingers taunted the other. "Oh Goddess, Walter! It's so good, it feels so good!" Ever obedient to my goddess, I switched to the other side, treating it to the same attention the other had enjoyed. Her strong hands traveled up and down my back, from my shoulders to my ass, kneading, scratching, caressing. I worked my way down, my tongue exploring the pool of her navel, licking and kissing her hipbones before moving to the sandy- colored thatch between her thighs. "Wh-what...? Oh Walter.... Oh Goddess, yes!" she cried out, her hips rising in reflexive rhythm to meet my tongue. As gently as I could, I slid one finger, then two into her narrow passage, stroking in and out in time to the laving of my tongue on her sensitive nub. "Oh, Goddess... don't stop.... No, stop.... No, don't.... Walter, I want you, I want you *now*!" "Patience, my goddess," I crooned, and went back to my exquisite torture. "Walter, please.... Oh, Goddess, it's too much!" she panted. She was very wet and very ready, and I don't think I could have held out much longer. But I was taking care. Her emotions, coming to me in powerful waves, were mostly love and trust and need. But a touch of fear made me believe this was probably Kyla's first time, and I was determined to make it perfect for her. I kissed her deeply, letting her taste her rich honey on my tongue. "Please, Walter... now," she begged, caressing my face, my chest. "Easy, beloved. I don't want to go too fast, I don't want to hurt you." "I *need* you!" I smiled. "I need you, too," I replied in a low voice, rough with emotion and the strain of control. "But I want to do this right." She grasped my head, looking me directly in the eyes. "I love you, Walter." "I love you, too, Kyla," I whispered, and edged myself into her wet opening. She gasped in surprise at the unaccustomed sensation. Trembling with the effort not to suddenly sink myself into her, I advanced slowly as her body stretched to accommodate me. Somehow I managed to stop when I felt resistence. "It's all right, Walter. Now! Please!" I took a nipple into my mouth and sucked hard as I pushed through the resistence. Her inadvertant gasp halted me, and shaking, I waited until she panted, "Yes... more... now!" Then I pulled back and, with a groan, finally sank completely into her welcoming heat. Her long legs came up and around my back. "Yes, more... it's so good!" Spurred by her encouragement, I began driving harder and faster. Her emotions fed into mine and mine into hers, telling us everything we needed to know as I pounded away. When I had just about reached the limits of my control, I felt the rippling of her muscles and knew she was close. Again, there was a touch of fear to her emotions, as the unfamiliar power of her physical response began to overwhelm her. I drove in hard and fast. "It's all right, Kyla... just let go.... Don't be afraid of it... I've got you..," I gasped, sending her as much love and comfort as I was capable of. Her moans became staccato screams as her orgasm tore through her. One more thrust, and with a yell I emptied myself deep into her body. We lay for some minutes, spent and wrapped in each others' arms, until I felt myself slip from her body. Rolling to the side, I enveloped her in my arms and stroked her hair as she slowly came back to herself. Finally, she sighed happily and kissed me. "Are you all right?" I inquired anxiously. "I didn't hurt you?" "More than all right," she purred sleepily. "Walter, I had no idea.... Is it always like this?" I chuckled, then kissed her forehead and gathered her close. "It's never been this good for me before, Kyla. Never. Possibly the empathy thing has something to do with it. I felt your love and trust, and it made it so much... more. More satisfying. More powerful. I love you, you know that." She nodded, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "What? Are you all right? God, I did hurt you, didn't I?" "No! No, Walter, no. You didn't, you made me feel... incredible... loved... cherished. All through our lovemaking, I could feel your concern for me." I relaxed a bit. "Did it bother you?" "On the contrary... it made me love you all the more... that you would be so concerned to give me as much pleasure as possible, as little discomfort. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed. I really didn't know it would be so... so *much*." We held each other until we shook from the chill of the waterfall and the aftermath of amazing sex. Reluctantly, I got to my feet and held my hand out to her, helping her up. "Let's warm up," I suggested. Still holding hands, we circumvented the waterfall and leapt into the heart of the pool. There, we dived and played like young otters, surfacing to laugh and kiss and touch in the iridescent vapor. Finally, we pulled ourselves up to a large, flat boulder, letting the sun bake our bodies on one side while the heat from the rock soaked into us from the other. My arm was around her. Absently, she trailed her hand up and down along my body. I could hear her smile in her words. "The Goddess seems to have gifted you, Walter," she said playfully, letting her hand drift down to stroke my once-more burgeoning erection. I had been trying to ignore it. "Look, Kyla, you're going to be sore as it is - " I began. She laughed and slipped once more into the pool, tugging on my hand. "Come play, beloved...." I needed little encouragement. Smiling, I slid into the heat of the water and swam after her. She was everywhere - diving, swimming like a fish, teasing me with touches and caresses, then darting just out of reach. I found a shelf of rock on one side of the pool, where I was able to stand chest-deep and look into the depths. Confused and a bit alarmed, I lost track of her and didn't see her until she had made her move. She burst out of the water, her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. Without hesitation, she sank down onto my cock with a happy sigh. "Oh, Walter, you feel so good!" she whispered. She let her natural buoyancy carry her up and down, up and down, enveloping me, stroking me with her tight heat. I buried my face where her shoulder met her neck, kissing and nipping there. "God, Kyla - I can never get enough of you," I groaned. My hands went to her hips, guiding her rhythm, as my lips continued to work on her face, her neck, her breasts. When I was close, I moved a hand around to the front, urging it between us. I stroked her nub, feeling her leap in response, unimaginably turned on both by her reaction and by feeling myself thrusting into her. "Just a little more...." she panted. I clenched my teeth against the overpowering urge to come, rubbed her more roughly, thrust more deeply, more savagely. Kyla didn't seem to mind a bit, just rode me all the harder. Waves splashed on the surrounding rocks from the intensity of our efforts. Finally, when I couldn't have held out for one more second, I felt her muscles grip me hard. Mindless in her orgasm, she stifled her scream by sinking her teeth into my shoulder, and I was lost. Three more strokes and I was coming so hard I thought I'd pass out. I stood there, trembling, holding Kyla close until she began to rouse herself on my shoulder. I covered her face with kisses. "I love you, Kyla... but I think you're gonna kill me," I said with a groan. Her head still on my shoulder, she giggled happily. "Surely there are worse ways to go." "Every other way I can think of...." I felt myself slip out of her and she unwrapped her legs to stand on the rocky shelf. "The sun's going down - take me home, Walter." We swam to the side of the pool and got out, taking a few minutes to dry in the suddenly chill air before pulling on our clothes. She had walked to the pool, so I mounted my horse, then reached out a hand to pull her up into the saddle in front of me. Fortunately, the horse behaved himself and followed the path back to Fairwoods without too much guidance on my part. I was much too busy.... Maybe it was our activities on the way back. Maybe it was the effect of the horse's rhythmic stride on two bodies pressed together. Maybe it was the way time worked in the Realm, that I could recover from amazing sex and be ready for more with speed I hadn't approached since I was sixteen. Whatever it was, Kyla and I had no more closed the door to her cottage when we were relieving one another of our clothes and once more loving each other with all the passion and strength we possessed. Later, from the hearthrug, I watched the firelight dance on Kyla's silky skin as she lay sleeping in my arms. I smoothed her hair back, my hands unable to stop themselves from touching her. Now that we had admitted our love in the most intimate way possible - now what was I going to do? End of Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty I ended up staying the night. I had planned on leaving, had tried a couple of times. But one look at her face, her lush body, and I was simply not capable of walking the few steps out her door. Christ, no woman had ever had this kind of effect on me before. The knowledge that I would soon be leaving for my world - separating us, perhaps permanently, by more than mere miles - didn't help. Kyla might be able to handle it, but I already had my doubts that I would be equal to the task. Scully had covered Kyla's healing treatments for the night - something they had evidently set up in advance. Women think of everything. It also meant I would be spared the game of Twenty Questions, since it wiould be more than apparent to my agents where I had been all night and what I had been up to. No pun intended. I rolled out of Kyla's narrow bed and pulled on my clothes. Then I knelt down and kissed her awake. "Mmmm. Leaving so soon, Walter?" she asked sleepily. "It's after dawn, beloved. And if I don't leave now, we'll never be ready in time for the Naming Day Ceremony." "And I have a treatment to do for Jourdain first." She sighed and rolled over, her hair fanning out across her pillow, her lips still swollen from a thousand kisses. She reached out and stroked my head, smiling. "I love you, Walter." "I love you. But if you keep doing that, I'll never be able to walk out of here." She laughed and kissed me, then gave me a playful shove. "I'll see you at the Ceremony, then." We kissed again and I forced myself out of her cottage. I went first to Mulder and Scully's room. I needed information and they were my best source. From the sounds issuing through their door, however, they would find a visitor a most unwelcomed interruption. Well, that I could understand. I was about to move away when I noticed the carvings on their door. Now that I had been brought up to speed on their adventures in the Realm, I made the connection. A particularly throaty and blissful moan emanated from behind the door. Feeling the responding tug in my own body, I quickly moved off down the hall before things got out of hand. I pondered, as I walked, about who else might have the information I sought. After asking directions of several servants, I finally climbed the winding staircase up the southwest turret to Professor Neumann's quarters. I knocked tentatively, not wishing to awaken him, but was relieved when he called out for me to enter. "Warrior Priest Skinner! This is an honor. Please, join us for breakfast." With him at the refectory table sat Reinald. If I wanted information, I had come to the right place. "Thank you, Professor. And please, call me Walter. I have no wish to intrude, but I needed some information." "No intrusion at all. And you must call me Gunther. That's right, sit down and serve yourself. Will you pour the tea, Reinald? Now, what can we help you with?" Now that I was here, I was worried about how Reinald might react to the news of my relationship with Kyla. I was an outworlder, here by accident. And in spite of whatever services I had performed for the Realm, I didn't know how my love affair with a Realm native would go over. I was determined to keep Kyla out of it, if at all possible. I didn't mind taking the heat, but I would be damned if she would be stigmatized by our relationship. "I... I've come to understand much more of this world and its beings. I know my time left here must be short. What I've come to find out is.... What I mean is, I'd like to be able to maintain some kind of contact after I go back to my world. I've come to you to find how that might be possible." "Hmm. And is there any particular reason for this, Warrior Priest Skinner?" Reinbald asked. His face was bland, but his blue eyes sparkled. I cleared my throat and avoided his eyes, which seemed to see far too much. "Well.. yes, of course. I've become quite friendly with Jourdain, and several others. I'd like to be able to keep in touch with them, see how Jourdain is doing after his injury, that sort - " "And of course, there's your relationship with Kyla," he interjected equably. I confess, for a moment I reverted to my 'real world' mindset, and wondered if it had all been a set-up. When I arrived in the Realm, Reinald had been adamant that I keep the knowledge of the existence of the Realm a secret. What better way to ensure my silence than to involve me romantically with one of the beings here - to give me a cogent reason to want to protect this place. But nothing in Kyla's emotions had indicated anything of the sort, and although I could tell that the Royal Mage was pleased by the turn of events, I wasn't picking up anything that would lead me to believe it was because a carefully-hatched plot had suceeded. "Why, Walter - you appear quite astounded!" observed Gunther. "Let's just say I wish the Bureau had such accurate and prompt informants," I replied dryly. "Let me guess - Lita?" Reinald chuckled. "Don't blame the lass, Walter. She noticed that your room hadn't been slept in, and saw Scully at Jourdain's cottage late last night. She merely put two and two together. She doesn't mean to be indiscreet. I think in your case she's just genuinely happy for you and Kyla." "Then you approve?" He shrugged. "It's not for me to approve or disapprove. Kyla's a grown woman and can make her own decisions where her heart is concerned. But why would I disapprove? You have more than demonstrated your honor and your friendship to the Realm." "If it makes any difference, I had already decided to keep my knowledge of the existence of the Realm in confidence, Reinald. Even before Kyla. Being here... going through the changes I have...." I shook my head. "I can't risk the wrong people getting ahold of the knowledge of this place. I know now the Realm carries no threat to my world. I just wish I could say the reverse were true." "I was confident that you would come to that decision, Walter. All it took was time, and getting to know us better. I know you, just as Mulder and Scully, would willingly sacrifice yourselves rather than jeopardize the Realm." "In a heartbeat," I agreed solemnly. "So!" said Gunther. "You want to know about how to maintain contact with your friends here?" I nodded. "I'm not sure of the timeframes, but I'm assuming I don't have much time before I go back to my world." "Quite so. I've done some calculations. I won't bore you with the physics, but the backwash of time is almost over. Let's see, you left on Friday, the fourteenth of August. Mulder and Scully are due back on Monday, the seventeenth, from what I understand. Are you also due back the same day?" "No, actually I was taking Monday off." "Ah. Well, as you may or may not know, we now theorize that intent has almost as much to do with where and when you arrive back as the magic and equipment used to generate the vortex. But I see a couple of windows of opportunity...." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The Ceremony might have been abbreviated, but that didn't mean it wasn't too long for my taste. Evidently Ballorca had been able to negotiate with the King, or the Royal Priestess had thrown in her two cents' worth, because there was still a hell of a lot of chanting going on. Mulder was spared, but the King and the Priestess had more than a candlemark of prayers and recitations and whatever. The scene was much the same as it had been a few short days before - the filled stands, the overjoyed populace, fantastic beings from all corners of the Realm and beyond, nobles and their ladies resplendent in their gorgeous finery and jewels. The one difference - the empty seats of Maalfees House. Kyla sat by my side, looking radiant. I had never considered before that being close to me might make that much difference to anyone. Even Sharon - even when we were newlyweds, I never got the impression that I was all that important to her. But with Kyla - she just glowed, outshining even Shannon, the proud mother.... Which got me thinking about something Kyla and I would have to discuss, in view of the previous night's - and day's - activities.... Andalor's chant was drawing to a close. The poor kid looked exhausted. Then the Priestess stood. I recalled this part of the ceremony - it had come right before all hell had broken loose. The throng seemed to hold its collective breath as the Priestess called in New Realm for the child to be brought forth. On the dais, Shannon tensed, and I saw Mulder's hand creep over to rest upon hers. There was a blast of trumpets, and then, flanked by eight armed men in royal colors, a proud, dignified Livirnea carried a miraculously sleeping Heir to the Throne up the broad center aisle. This was the first time the child had appeared in public, and although I'm sure rumors had circulated on the efficient Realm grapevine, there was a sharp intake of breath from the aura-sensitive beings in the crowd. "Then it's true! Look at his aura!" "The Prince - he has magic powers!" "The return of the Mage Kings! Blessed be the Goddess!" The members of the Noble Houses took the news pretty much as Mulder had predicted they would - some quite happily, some resolutely, and others stone-faced and grim. But thankfully I was picking up none of the kind of vibes I had felt at the previous ceremony. At least for the moment no plots were being hatched. Their reaction hadn't escaped Scully. "Just give them time," she whispered to me, almost as if she could read my mind as well as her bondmate's. "They'll be up to their old tricks again sooner or later - at least until the Prince is old enough to use his powers to protect himself." Livirnea climbed the dais, placed the infant in his father's arms, curtsied deeply and then went to stand behind the Royal Family. Carefully, to avoid jostling the sleeping child, the King raised his arms upwards, and the tumult in the Great Hall grew, as the baby was presented to his subjects. Finally, Andalor lowered his arms and passed the baby to Shannon. The Priestess began to chant softly, sprinkling the child with herbs and wrapping him in some sort of greenery. I turned to Kyla. "Lashella vines," she whispered. "They're a symbol of the Goddess's protection." I nodded and was about to reply when the King started to speak. The tension in the Hall went up a couple of notches and the silence, except for the King's words, was absolute. With a lot more enthusiasm than he had shown while chanting, he began, "My beloved subjects and honored guests, we present to you our son. Queen Shannon and I have had many moon-cycles in which to come to a decision about his name. I know it has been a matter of some interest to many of you." There was a rumble of laughter from the stands. Evidently, the bets were still on. Andalor smiled and continued. "You know our customs call for the name never to be spoken until this ceremony, and we have abided by this tradition. You know also that it is customary for the name chosen to be one from the long and glorious history of the Realm. The Queen and I have conformed to this tradition as well - at least, in part." His violet eyes twinkled as he played his audienced. Bewildered murmuring could be heard, not only from the public stands but also from the nobles and other dignitaries in the circles of seats surrounding the dais. Ballorca looked like he was bracing himself for the worst. He might have gotten wind of Mulder's suggestion to Andalor - Prince Elvis. The King held up his hand for silence. "While it was important to us to honor the traditions of our land, we also felt that honor must be paid to one who has made such a difference to the life of the Realm. We wish" - the King looked down towards those of us in the VIP row - "that it were possible to so honor all of those who have given their hearts and shed their blood for the Realm.... Royal Mage Reinald, my beloved Regent, friend and protector...." Reinald gaze up at the boy King, pride on his face and tears in his eyes. "...Captain Jourdain, who even now lies recuperating from grave injuries sustained in recovering my son.... Warrior Priest Skinner - " I jumped - "who, though he came to us as a stranger, was instrumental in my son's recovery, and who will leave us as a treasured friend...." I really hadn't been expecting that. Thank God - and the Goddess - that the kid wouldn't be saddled with a name like Walter. But I felt myself blush in pleasure at the King's kudo, and Kyla gripped my hand proudly. I felt Scully tense beside me and followed her gaze up to her bondmate on the dais. Mulder had been quiet throughout the ceremony. He was pale, still overcoming the blood loss from his wound, and he had been obviously favoring his left shoulder. But now he was beginning to look most uncomfortable, though not, I thought, from any physical pain. "And so we name our son - after one whose life and reign was cut tragically short, and after another who has brought the Realm back from the brink of extinction not once but twice. Aptly, we name him after one who was a King, and after another who is a Mage. Beloved subjects of the Realm, I present to you our son - Prince Barnas Fox!" There was a roar from the crowd, and everyone was on their feet, cheering and stomping. True, some of the nobles were not terribly enthusiastic, and Ballorca was choking, but for the most part, the name seemed to go over well with the crowd. To my left, Scully whooped along with the crowd, her face glowing with pleasure for the honor paid to Mulder, and not a small amount of amusement at his reaction. Mulder looked completely disconcerted. Since he felt even more strongly about his name than I did mine, I'm sure he felt sorry for the little tyke, and probably wanted to take both Andalor and Shannon over his knee for cursing an innocent infant with it. A series of emotions played across his expressive face in the space of a heartbeat, but finally, looking pleased and touched, he approached Andalor, who enveloped him in a most unkingly hug. Livirnea took the baby from Shannon, who then leapt into Mulder's arms, the two of them simultaneously laughing and crying. I turned to look down at Scully, who was cheering as tears ran down her cheeks unnoticed. I squeezed her shoulder, then turned my attention to Kyla. Hell, everyone else was kissing and hugging, why shouldn't we? Eventually, the tumult quieted. Andalor nodded at Shannon, who took the Prince and marched out with Livirnea and the armed guards. "Beloved subjects and honored guests, I invite you to go into the courtyard, where there is food and drink and music and dancing for all. I would ask the indulgence of members of the Council of Representatives to stay in the Hall for a few moments, so we may conduct some urgent business of the Realm before joining the celebration." If the crowd thought anything unorthodox about the King's announcement, it was lost in the anticipation fo the party to come. In a remarkably short time, the stands emptied. I looked to Scully to try to find out what we were supposed to do, but she merely shrugged. Evidently, Mulder didn't know either. On the dais, Andalor went up to Mulder and whispered something to him. Mulder nodded, his expression somber, then he descended and sat down next to Scully. "Andalor wants us to stay. He's going to announce his decision about Maalfees. He doesn't think there'll be trouble, but just in case...." I passed the information on the Kyla and she let the rest of the VIP row know what was going on, although I think Reinald already had some idea. Looking around, I saw more of Andalor's guard posted around the Great Hall, just in case the decision didn't go down well with the Noble Houses. Once again, tension reigned. The big double doors at the back of the Hall thudded to a close as Andalor took his place on the huge throne in the center of the dais. Looking grim, he began in a low yet carrying voice, "Honored Council Members, I must announce to you that early this morning, Granoc of Maalfees took his own life in his cell." The news was met by shocked gasps from all around us. Mulder frowned and caught the eyes of Reinald, Tarnor and Hannu. From their looks of concentration, they were cooking up some sort of spell, maybe a protection spell for the King in case of attack. Scully's hand had drifted automatically to her sword. A low rumble of protest emanated from the section where the heads of the Houses sat, Dordinal's voices loudest of all. Andalor's commanding voice rang out over the indignant grumbles of the protesters. "Before you weep for Granoc, you might remember that he was a self-confessed traitor. In my opinion, he merely saved the Realm the unpleasant task of having to execute him." "Hear, hear!" cried out Prince Mavor. The shout was taken up by all the Representatives of the non-human species, and by some of the Houses. Mulder turned stiffly to look over his shoulder, then turned back with a smirk. "Looks like some of the Houses have decided it's in their interest to curry the King's favor," he observed. "For now, at least." Andalor continued. "That there was a plot against the Realm is clear. Granoc confessed as much. Maalfees' plan was to raise my son as one of them, to 'discover' his whereabouts and return him to the throne on my death. I am not so naive as to believe that that unhappy event would have been long in coming, once my son had been sufficiently influenced by his captors to promote Maalfees' interests." A few grim chuckles were heard from around the Hall. He raised his hand for silence. "The task before us now is to decide what punishment Maalfees has earned. Granoc did his best in his confession to make it appear that he singlehandedly conceived and executed this plot But we know from the statement of Lady Livirnea, who was held captive with my son in Maalfees' stronghold, and from our own common sense, that this was not the case. Granoc sat before us in this very Hall as my guards were being murdered, and my son abducted. Clearly, many others were involved in this conspiracy against the Realm... and against every one of you, for Maalfees sought to become the pre-eminent House through this plot. Surely you can imagine the fortunes of your own Houses should this plot have succeeded." There were grumbles of agreement. He paused. "The rupture of the Gate which brought my son home was both unintended and devastating. It was only Maalfees' attack on Mage Mulder which caused it to happen. We believe that Maalfees' stronghold to the west of the Great Robe Desert was completely destroyed by the Gate's rupture. I immediately sent out a party whose mission it was to confirm that supposition. Should there be any survivors, the party has been instructed to render what aid is appropriate." "And how can we be sure they won't simply be slaughtered?" called out a voice scornfully from the Dordinal ranks. With distaste, the King looked down from the dais. "The likelihood of survivors is remote. But should there be any, you have my word that they will be given what assistance they need. That is far more mercy than was shown my guards who were slaughtered in this very Hall, or Lady Livirnea, or Mage Mulder or Captain Jourdain," he said coldly. He stared down at the Dordinal seats until the grumbling ceased. "Since Granoc confessed, there will be no trial. I have Lady Livirnea's statement and those of the search party, who found and returned my son. The complicity of every adult member of Maalfees House is beyond question. I would be perfectly within the law of the Realm to demand that every last one of them be executed." I looked uncertainly at my agents, whose faces mirrored my concern, and then back to Kyla. She gazed back calmly and with a slight upward turn of her lips, almost imperceptibly shook her head. Taking heart in her serenity, I rewound my fingers in hers and once again surveyed the King. Over the undercurrent of heated debate, the King declared, "BUT-!" There was silence. In a softer voice he went on. "But I decided that I would not do that. Not" - he hastened to add - "because is it not completely deserved." He sighed and leaned back into the support of the throne. "My decision not to have any remaining participants executed rests on one thing and one thing alone - that is, that I have no wish for my son's birth to forever be associated with a bloodbath." He waited for the import of his announcement to sink in. "In consultation with my most trusted advisors - Royal Mage Reinald, Lord Mandor of Ranfaus, and Prince Mavor of the Elves - I have arrived at the following course of action. The punishment of Maalfees House, for the crimes of high treason, murder, kidnapping, the attempted rape of Lady Livirnea, and conspiracy against the Realm is as follows...." He stood, and his voice carried an air of authority completely unexpected in one so young. "One - Maalfees House, from this time and forevermore, is hereby declared dissolved, and all rights and privileges of Maalfees House are hereby rescinded. "Two - All lands and properties belonging to Maalfees House will revert to the Realm, to be put to such use as decided by the Council of Representatives, and "Three - all members of Maalfees House are hereby exiled to the Shalean Plateau, where land has been set aside for their use. They are forbidden to come within a three-day ride of Fairwoods without the express permission of the King for a period of twenty-five season- cycles." I looked around towards where the heads of the Houses were sitting to gauge their reaction. For some, their disappointment was written all over their faces. I guess they thought there was a chance Maalfees' property might have been broken up and distributed among the Houses. Mentally, I applauded Andalor for not taking that route. From what I had seen and heard, none of them other than Ranfaus was worth the powder to blow them to hell, and I was glad they weren't going to profit by this. Others, notably those wearing the colors of Dordinal, were seething. Andalor's decision was both generous and merciful, and they knew it. They would find no support for an insurrection based on Maalfees's punishment. Bravo, Andalor, I thought to myself. "I now ask for the Council of Representatives to ratify my decision. What say you? Those who approve of the Crown's decision in this matter, please say 'Aye'." There was a thunderous roar of assent from the Council. "Those who are in disagreement?" There was an undercurrent of disgruntled murmuring, but it seemed no one had the balls to come right out and admit it. Thinking of a few gutless and sleazy Congressmen, I thought maybe this place wasn't so unlike my world, after all. "Then in that case, Honored Council Members, we have concluded our business. I invite you all to join the celebration." ~ ~ ~ Scully floated in my arms, making me appear to be a much better dancer than I was. Across the ballroom, Mulder danced with Kyla, listening to whatever she was saying with rapt attention. The celebration in the courtyard had moved into the Castle itself when sundown brought chilly temperatures. Shopkeepers and nobles danced side by side, to music at once strange and familiar. Elven punch flowed, though after one mugful and a friendly warning from Scully of its dire aftereffects, I had switched to ale. There was more food than I had ever seen at one time, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. "Mulder and I will be leaving the Realm tomorrow evening, Walter." I nodded. "I gathered as much. I spoke to Gunther this morning." "Really? About going home?" Her brows were arched in surprise. "I thought you and Kyla were hitting it off really well." "We are. That was the point. I wanted to find out how we could stay in touch. I don't know - maybe even come back here for visits." She smiled up at me. "I'm so glad for you both. Did he tell you about the Oracle crystals?" I nodded. "About that, and about coming back, and about my return to our world. Reinald was there too. He said I'd leave with the means to contact the Realm. Though he did mention that it's easier to initiate the contact from this side." "Easier, but painful," Scully laughed, and explained about the heat generation problems of the crystals. "So - will you be going back with us?" "Uh... actually, no. Gunther said there was another 'window of opportunity' for me to arrive back in our world Tuesday morning. It would give me another month here, in Realm time. I'm going to take that opportunity, Scully. I have to." There was a ring of desperation in my voice. "I don't blame you." The music stopped, and we clapped politely. The gaiety of the surroundings just seemed to enhance my melancholy. "How do you and Mulder do it, Dana? How do you handle leaving the Realm behind and going back to all that crap? Cancerman, and all the rest?" She looked at my face, which must have been as bleak as the emotions I was unconsciously transmitting. Mulder and Kyla had started toward us, but the musicians struck up another sprightly tune and they began dancing again. Scully took my hand and led me into a quiet hallway. "That communication thing you've got going comes in handy," I observed wryly. She smiled. "Well, you seemed like you needed to talk." I sighed. "I wonder if my emotions will stay this transparent in our world." "Possibly not," she replied evenly. "Or you'll learn to control them. A few lessons with Urielle should do the trick. So - you asked how we handle leaving here...." She shrugged. "The first time was the worst. We weren't even sure we'd get back to our own world, let alone be able to return here. Since then, it's been easier. We can get messages from here, and we know we can return pretty much whenever we want." She looked up at me sympathetically. "Of course, Mulder and I are together, whether we're in this world or ours. If we had to separate.... Well, I don't envy you,Walter." "I... I've never been in this position before - having to leave someone I love. Kyla says she can deal with it, and from what I feel of her emotions, she can. I wish that I could say the same. I don't know. It's probably stupid, but I keep feeling that if I leave here, everyone - this whole place - will simply disappear like some wonderful, fantastic dream that I'll never have again." "I understand, Walter, I really do. Mulder and I felt that way when we got back to our world after the first visit. It seemed like it had all been a dream. But we've been back twice since then and it does get easier to leave, knowing the Realm will still be here when we return. Besides, depending on the gelflow of time, your four weeks of annual vacation could add up to years in the Realm." "That's the up side. But the down side - will Kyla have forgetten all about me by the time I get back? If even a few weeks goes by before I return, it'll be years here - years of separation." "Not necesarily," she replied reasonably. "According to the Professor, that's not a constant. In fact, it's possible for the reverse to be true. It's just that we've been here only when Realm time was moving faster than time in our world. Gunther says that occasionally time can even be parallel between the two worlds - no difference at all." I grunted noncommitally. "I think what you have to ask yourself, Walter, is 'Is it worth it?' Is Kyla worth it? It is going to be hard for you both, to be separated. Are the times you have together worth the pain of separation?" We strolled for some time in silence, while I thought over what she said. There was only one answer. "Yes. What we have together is worth anything, it's worth any price I have to pay." She put a hand on my arm and we stopped walking. Then she put her arms around me and squeezed. I felt her confidence, her friendship, her faith that everything would work out. "Don't forget, Walter - the Goddess seems to have some influence in our world, as well... otherwise none of us would have ever gotten here in the first place. Mulder and I are strongly tied to the Realm - and now you are too. I have to believe that our being here has the Goddess's blessing. And that being the case, we'll be back, again and again, and our relationships with these beings will thrive - regardless of the gelflow of time." As she spoke, the truth, the rightness of her words struck me, and I found my serene core again. Wordlessly, I returned her hug. "You're feeling better - good!" she declared, smiling. "Now, let's go rescue Kyla from Mulder's dancing." End of Chapter Twenty Epilogue Beneath the twin moons thirty four Realm days later, Kyla and I walked hand in hand to the meadow beyond the Castle walls. Gunther and Reinald had set up the apparatus to create the vortex, and the moment I dreaded had arrived. The time had flown by. While Kyla performed her healing and visited her patients, I spent time with Jourdain and Aldara; first, playing cards or exchanging war stories while the big soldier recuperated, and later learning some of the finer points of swordsmanship from him as he gained strength. A portion of every day I spent with Urielle or the Royal Priestess, practicing control of my priestly gifts and learning more about the religion of the Goddess. Occasionally, I was invited to meals with Gunther, Reinald, Tarnor, or Andalor and Shannon. But when Kyla had finished with her duties for the day, we closeted ourselves away as much as possible. More often than not, our nights were spent in my quarters in the Castle, the huge high Realm bed much more comfortable and suited to our activities than Kyla's narrow cot. I grasped her hand as we crossed the frosted meadow. "Kyla, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. I mean, we're not married - not yet, anyway - and I.... What I mean is...." My eyes stayed trained on her hand, the one that bore the delicate gold and sapphire ring I'd placed there the night before. She turned to me, her eyes as dark as the sky. "What is it, beloved? Surely you know I will wait for your return?" "I was sort of counting on that," I replied wryly. I cleared my throat and started again. "No - what I meant was.... We haven't taken any precautions, and, in light of what we've been doing, it's possible that.... I mean, what happens if you find yourself - " She looked puzzled for a few seconds, then her expression lightened. "If I find I am carrying your child?" She laughed. "I am a Healer, Walter. I have some control over that sort of thing, you know." "Oh...." I wondered if I looked as confused and conflicted as I felt. "Then you mean you can prevent yourself from becoming pregnant?" "If that is my wish," she replied enigmatically. "Walter!" Gunther called out. "It's time, I'm afraid." "If that is your wish...." I repeated to myself.... Aloud, I asked, "So what is your wish, Kyla?" Reinald appeared at our sides and thrust a small velvet pouch into my hand. "Oracle crystals," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Enough to ensure that Lishla will grow tired of running back and forth to Kyla's cottage to fetch her. Mulder has more if you need them." I tied the little bag snugly to my belt. "Thank you, Reinald. I'll miss being here." He grasped my forearm in the manner of the Realm. "Thank you, Walter. Know that you always have a home here amongst us. I trust you will be back soon, with Mulder and Scully as well, I hope." "I'm planning on it, Reinald." "You have only a few moments to get into position, Walter!" announced the Professor. The Royal Mage joined Gunther. I turned to Kyla and took her in my arms. Tears glistened in her eyes, but her face was as serene as ever. "Go with my love and the protection of the Goddess, my heart. I will contact you soon, I promise. I love you so!" I wiped an errant tear from her cheek and kissed her softly. "Be safe, beloved. I'll be back as soon as I can arrange it. You are my life now." "I know," she whispered. "As you are mine." "Time, Walter!" Reluctantly, I backed away from her and took my place where Gunther had indicated. My eyes never left her, wanting to memorize the way she stood there, so straight and tall and lovely. Noxious odors were coming from Reinald's cauldrons, and I heard him chanting in the background. Dried leaves began to swirl at my feet, and my cloak whipped around me. Then it came to me that Kyla hadn't answered my question. I began to call out, when suddenly I felt myself falling, falling.... ... and landed in a heap on the floor of Mulder's basement office. "Wal-... Sir! Are you all right?" Scully sprang from her desk and helped me to my feet. "Here - you'd better sit down," said Mulder helpfully. He shoved a chair behind me and gratefully I dropped into it. "You look like vortex travel doesn't agree with you any more than it does me." I exhaled forcefully and shut my eyes to stop the room from twirling around my throbbing head. My stomach churned with nausea. "Take some deep breaths," Scully ordered. "The worst of it should be over in a couple of minutes. The headache will last a bit longer." I nodded, and gulped in lungfuls of air. Soon the room stopped spinning, but I still felt rotten. I looked around the office dazedly, everything appearing strange and surrealistic - even moreso than normal amid Mulder's collection of eclectic weirdness. I noticed a suit and shirt on a hanger, and a bag which I hoped contained shoes, socks and underwear. Mulder must have brought them from my apartment, thank God. If I were seen traipsing around the Hoover Building in leather pants, knee-high swashbuckler boots and a cloak, I would have been shoved in front of one of the Bureau shrinks in a New York minute. "So - enjoy your extra time in the Realm?" Mulder asked, grinning impudently. I sighed and balefully eyed him. Yes, controlling Mulder was going to be impossible, as I had feared. Just to be contrary, I didn't rise to the bait he was practically throwing at me. "Very much. Everyone sends their regards." Suddenly I was struck by the sheer implausibility of sitting in the J. Edgar Hoover Building and chatting about beings a whole universe away. A universe away from Kyla.... "How's Jourdain?" I sighed again as I wrenched my mind back from visions of Kyla. "Recovered and back to his duties." "And the Prince? My little namesake?" he probed. "Doing fine. Lita's been taking care of him at night, so that Andalor and Shannon can get some sleep. I don't think Lita ever sleeps. Maybe she doesn't need to." "Maybe she's an X-File," Mulder joked. "Yeah... maybe...." I gripped the arms of the chair so tightly my knuckles were white. "Mulder, shut up a minute. Walter, look at me! Follow my finger...." "I... I'm okay, Scully. Just sort of disoriented." "No kidding," her bondmate drawled. "Do you realize you've been speaking in New Realm since you got back?" Okay, that rocked me. "Shit, was I?" He chuckled. "Well, that last bit wasn't, but everything else was. When did you learn that?" "Aldara and Daanna were teaching me. I think the language spell might aid the learning process...." Cautiously, I shook my head. "What?" asked Mulder. "What's wrong?" "Doesn't it strike you as weird, sitting here at the Bureau and talking about magic spells?" He shrugged. "No, not particularly." "I obviously asked the wrong person," I responded drily. There was a few seconds' silence, then Scully asked gently, "And how's Kyla?" "Wonderful. Beautiful. Serene...." My throat narrowed, choked by the emotions I had been trying so hard to control ever since the day had begun, a world ago. "Goddess, I miss her already...." "Easy with the Goddess stuff," advised Mulder. "You'll be getting accused of witchcraft by some of the folks around here who aren't exactly our fans." Scully looked at me with sympathy. "I'm sure you'll be hearing from her soon, Wa-..., sir." I nodded, cautiously stood. The dizziness and nausea were gone. I grabbed my clothes and disappeared behind the projector screen to change. I almost hated to remove each Realm garment, feeling the distance from that magical place grow as I shed the leather breeches, the linen shirt, the cloak.... I folded them carefully and put them in the plastic bag my 'real world' belongings had been in. "I'll be taking a week's vacation just as soon as I can arrange it," I called out as I dressed. "Don't you two have a little comp time coming to you?" Mulder's ironic monotone floated over the screen. "You'll have to ask our boss." "I imagine it can be arranged. Besides, Mulder, taking vacations together may have its benefits. At least I'll be able to keep my eye on you and rest easy, knowing you're not getting into trouble while I'm away." I finished tying my tie, put the bag of Oracle crystals in my pocket and stepped out from behind the screen. Sitting down in a chair, I pulled on my socks and shoes. "By the way, thanks for bringing my clothes, Mulder." "No problem. Though I would have given a lot to see you walk into the cafeteria the way you were dressed." "I'll bet you would." "So you're already planning on going back. The place grows on you, doesn't it, Wal-... sir?" said Scully. "Yeah, you could say that. Besides, something kind of came up at the last minute. Something important - something I have to go back and find out." I left it at that. Maybe I was sending out my 'don't go there' vibes again... in any case, they didn't press me on it. "So they're expecting you?" In a way that had almost become second nature after the last several weeks in the Realm, I reached inside myself - and found it... my center of serenity. I guess I wasn't controlling, because I saw Mulder and Scully exchange a smile as a blast of the pure joy I was feeling hit them. I still had it - the gift that the Realm had helped me to find within myself. Closing my eyes and concentrating the way Urielle had taught me, I felt my emotions coming under control, notching down a bit, but still there. I missed Kyla, but I knew I'd be seeing her soon. And just knowing she was there, loving me.... I felt like I could take on the world - any world. "So they're expecting you to come back?" Mulder repeated. I grinned. "Evidently. When I left, Lita's cousin was carving my exploits into the door of my room.... And now, Agent Mulder - bring me up to speed with what's been going on in *this* world. There must be some work to do." End of The Magician IV - The Warrior Priest