THE RUNAWAY
The Magician - Book Two
An X-Files Fantasy by
Jennifer Lyon <Jenni10647@aol.com> 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 <THANK YOU> 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

	<CLANG CRASSSHH CLANG>  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.
	<RAP RAP RAP RAP>  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.
	<Knock knock knock> 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..."	
	<KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK>
	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.  
	<CHUG CHUG ROAR> 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...
	<ROAR> 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.  
	<BING> 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.
	<BANG BANG> 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.  
	<BANG> 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.  
	<BANGGGBBBAANNGGG> Then suddenly <CLICK> 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.
	<BLAM!> 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 <CRACK> 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!"
	<SLAM> 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!"
	<BANG BANG BANG> 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!!!!"
	<CLANK, SCRAAAPE, CLANK> 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.
	<CREAK> 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...
	<FLASH> 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...
	<FLASH> 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.
	<FLASH...FLASH...FLASH> 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.
	<SLAM> 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.  <BANG...BANG>
	"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.
	<BANG BANG BANG> 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.
	<BOOM> 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!
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