THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: The X-Files and the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner belong to Chris Carter, FOX Network, and Ten Thirteen Productions. The Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996 - Jennifer Lyon and Suzanne Bickerstafe. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Note: This story is a sequel to our previous stories, "The Magician" and "The Runaway", and constitutes Book Three of a trilogy. This story begins where the second book leaves off - with Mulder and Scully in the Realm. The first two stories of the trilogy are available from this web page, and also from the X-Files archive sites on the web. We would strongly recommend you read the first two books before this one. Finally, we owe a huge debt of gratitude to our patient editor, Debbie Hewett, for all of her hard work; and also to Nicole Perry for her conscientious beta reading and helpful suggestions. Now...sit back, relax, and enjoy.... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prologue Long fingers closed around the murky edges of the floating ball of black iron. The sphere gave off rays of liquid darkness which ate up the few strands of light that dared to peek into the edges of the room. The Black Mage, face shadowed by a heavy cowl of ebony silk, gave a hauntingly beautiful smile. Red lips drew back over clear white enamel, as the power of the sphere grew and concentrated, soon enveloping the entire room in a sea of darkness. Only the one figure stood, tall and strong, concealed by the heavy robe. Embroidered swirls of red livid against the night echoed the sheen of red within the once clear blue eyes. The garnet lips closed tightly, a gentle hiss emanating from within, whistling through to fill the air with an incessant hum. In response, the globe spun harder...faster...strobing the room in multiple shades of black, layer upon layer, until the voice rose to a peak, then swung low and cut off - sharp, imperative, demanding. And clear, within the center of the globe, a faint glow of light grew and sharpened, clarifying the energy into a focused mental image of a stocky, haggard man. The remnants of once fine robes were now dusty and stained, ripped and poorly mended. The once pudgy face was now almost thin, making the narrow eyes seem even smaller, lost within a roll of skin, hanging loose without the thick padding of fat that had once supported it. Closing reddened eyes, the Mage concentrated once again, chanting words in a language long unused, known only by a rare few. The voice spoke in words of power, words that lived, words that were mired in blood. - - - - - The man in the cell blinked as a sense of unease slowly crept over him. Lifting his head from his chest, he peered around him anxiously, then wriggled as though a thousand insects were crawling over his skin. "Who's there?" he whined. There was no answer, except for the rustle of rats, scraping across the dungeon floor. - - - - - The Black Mage entered the final refrain of the spell with terse control. Again the chant rose high, beckoning, seeking... and at last, commanding. In the images forged from the spinning globe, the shape of the man jumped up to its feet, then threw its head back and screamed. The sound was whisked away into the wind, as his body shimmered in a coat of darkness, then was gone... only to reappear encased in a flood of oily darkness... falling to the floor of the Mage's sanctum to lay gasping, convulsing, like a beached whale upon the sand. With a sharp gesture of the left hand, the Black Mage set the spinning globe back down onto its stand and turned to look disdainfully down at the man sprawled across the frigid stone. Once the beady eyes turned upward, dilating in the shock of horrified recognition, a rich velvety voice filled the room... "Welcome, Prince Drellor. Welcome...." End Prologue THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter One The edges of the dark blue Mage's cloak swirled around his lean calves as he leapt up the castle stairway. Fox Mulder took two steps at a time in quick hops, his face intent despite the gentle upward curl of his lips. That delicate smile played at the edges of his eyes, softening his sharp-boned features, bringing a sparkle to his hazel eyes. His mind, always focused, was now busily dissecting the words of the spell chant he had been struggling with for the past few days. He almost had it working, but there was one small element missing, the one ingredient necessary to keep the spell from spinning out of control. No one could call this particular piece of magic important or even interesting, but his motivation was less the desire for the result of the spell itself as it was to prove to himself that he could make it work. Copying other Mages' spells was easy, for he had power to spare and memory that functioned like an iron trap. However, as he was presently discovering, the process of creating a new spell was a far more difficult task. But it was one he was bound and determined to conquer, and he was so close.... A blast of cold air struck him, and he staggered to a stop, his right hand blindly grabbing for the wide wooden banister to keep from falling. His head lifted up, then jerked around, his eyes scanning the air around him. His eyes focused, then glazed over, and he stood as still as a statue. His aura blazed into the dim light, throwing a bright blue gleam over the stone walls, then faded. His eyes closed, he leaned back against the wall, pressing himself against the solid support. The backs of his hands pressed up against his chest, fingers outstretched, almost as though warding off an unseen enemy. And he shivered. - - - - - By the time Mulder found his way to the dungeon buried deep in the earth beneath Fairwood Castle, pandemonium had broken loose. There were few prisoners kept here for any length of time, as Realm-style justice tended to be swift and practical. At present there were less than half a dozen, and they were all engaged in making a loud ruckus, clanking chains, screaming and howling, banging against the stone walls. Green-clothed guards were rushing to and fro, giving the appearance of determined action, yet seeming to accomplish very little at all. In the midst of the furor, the big, gray-haired Captain of the Royal Guard stood like a rock, forcing the sea of activity to web and weave around him. "Jourdain?" Mulder asked, easily pushing his way through to stand at his friend's side. "What's going on? I felt..." He broke off, unable to describe the feeling that had stopped him in his tracks. It was as though some kind of slug or worm had crawled across the surface of his brain, leaving behind a trail of evil-smelling sludge that he had finally tracked to this spot. Jourdain turned and acknowledged Mulder's presence, then inclined his head towards the cell in front of him. "Drellor's missing. Disappeared from behind a locked door. One minute he was there, the next he was gone." "Gone?!" Mulder echoed sharply, moving closer to the heavy iron door separating them from the small enclosure. A shock ran through his fingers as they brushed the thick, cold metal, and he jerked backwards. "Are you all right?" Jourdain asked anxiously, his craggy face grim in the shadows. Mulder nodded. "Magic was involved here, but it's a kind I've never felt before. It feels ... wrong." His mouth tightened into a thin line and he found himself shivering again, even with the wool cloak wrapped tightly around his body. "Better get Reinald down here quickly..." "I'm here." A shock of white hair glowed above the Royal Mage's gaunt blue-clad frame. Perhaps less vigorous than he had been in his youth, he still radiated a fierce presence, part magical strength and part simply force of personality. Nodding at his two companions, he stepped forward and pushed the door open. Like Mulder, his fingers recoiled briefly from the contact, and he wiped them against his cloak as though he had touched some kind of filth. Reinald walked briskly into the small cell, then waved at Mulder to follow him. The younger man stepped across the threshold, his shoulders held back, his face holding a pinched look. The psychic sense of this place reminded him vividly of the New Jersey sewer he'd once been unfortunate enough to explore, making him feel as though he were steeped in filth. Behind them, Jourdain's frown deepened. It did not take much guesswork to realize why the two Mages were acting the way they did. Even to those with little magical sense, there could be no question as to the cause of the prisoner's escape - black magic. - - - - - Jourdain was the last to enter the Council chamber. Easing his bulk into the awaiting chair, he nodded at the young King, then glanced over at the two Mages sitting side-by-side along the wall. Reinald held himself upright and at attention, Mulder was slumped across his chair, long legs sprawled out at apparently awkward angles. But Jourdain knew from long experience that the long- limbed body could move with deceptive speed while the sleepy- looking eyes could burn with frightening intensity once they were aroused. Mulder returned Jourdain's glance, a slight shift of his position the only indication of recognition, then he let his eyes wander around the room. Light filtered in from small windows set high in the massive stone walls. Bright tapestries draped the cool walls with warmth, bringing alive majestic scenes of the Realm's history. The center of the room was dominated by a large, oval- shaped table, one point held by the slender, alert form of the young, fair-haired king, the other by the white-gowned form of the Realm's high priestess. Mulder still had not quite gotten the Realm's religions straightened out - there were gods for practically everything, and each species had its rites and practices. Yet, much like the Judeo- Christian God of Mulder's upbringing - above all the minor deities was the one God - Goddess actually. The New Realm's chief deity had a distinctly female sense to it, and was seen as a creative source, a Mother to all life. As best as Mulder could make out, it had some similarities to much older human beliefs than the patriarchal Judeo- Christian tradition, more reminiscent of modern-day Wicca - yet with a unique flavor all its own. Mulder's eyes paused on the serene, matronly figure of the priestess, then reluctantly moved on to the representatives of the six Noble Houses, each of whom was dressed in the bright colors of his House. They were seated along one length of a long table, their positions relative to each other a sign of who was presently allied with, or feuding with whom. For now, the white-haired elder of Norwood sat aloof on the end, while Dordinal and Maalfees bent their heads together, whispering urgently. His generous lips pursed thoughtfully, Mulder considered Marvick of House Dordinal. The man was thick and stout, with a wide belly and tree-stump legs, but the plainness of his exterior disguised a clever mind and a fiery temperament. Like all of his House, Marvick was known to fly into violent rages when his will was thwarted, and that happened far too often. In fact, Mulder was convinced that the householder's histrionics were staged and delivered for maximal benefit to his House. Past the pasty figure of Horvay of Maalfees, Mandor of House Ranfaus was sitting quietly, his calm gray eyes making a circuit of the room. They focused in on Mulder, held the Mage's bright hazel gaze for a moment, then with a barely perceptible nod, moved on. Much to his surprise, Mulder had found himself growing to like the Ranfaus householder more and more over the past few moon-cycles. He was invariable conservative, reluctant to risk action unless no other alternative presented itself, but he was a staunch solid rock supporting the throne. And right now, Andalor could use all the support he could get. Mulder sighed under his breath as his eyes moved on to the final pair of householders, Ian of Forst and Linder of the Highlands. Both were engaged in a hostile staring contest with the gargoyle and troll representatives, respectively. The elven representative, Karvan, whom Mulder remembered as a blazing fury in the battle against the Dark Creatures, was now a calm mature presence, even though he seemed not to have aged physically. Instead the maturation was within, expressing itself in the elf's bearing and manner, in the elegant measured speech and the brilliant green eyes. Presently, though, even Karvan's composure was showing cracks, the fiery elven temper leaking through in rare, but extreme flashes of vituperative emotion. Mulder frowned, his worry deepening. Until recently, he had been deeply impressed with the peaceful coexistence between the four sentient species in this world, his own world suffering in the comparison. But as he rather cynically recognized, human beings were human beings, and they tend to have an inbred distrust of differences. But then, the tide of unrest and bad feelings that were erupting throughout the Realm were not solely a human invention. More than one incident had occurred between the other three species as well. Something was wrong, and this morning's events only confirmed Mulder's suspicions that a deliberate agency was behind the growing tensions. But the incidents were widespread and isolated from each other, the feelings of uneasiness too vague to pinpoint a single cause. It was no more than a well-developed sense of intuition that made Mulder suspicious, and so he held it to himself. Almost to himself... He instinctively felt for Scully's presence through the taut line of their life-bond, reveling in the sensation of her mind close to his, focused and intent. Closing his eyes, he could see through hers, and rather than the ornately decorated Council chamber, he saw brown earth and sunlight glinting off a silver blade. His hands jerked in sympathy as she brought the heavy weapon up and around, the shock of the contact with her student's weapon reverberating up through her arms and shoulders, and his as well. Then he shared her quick rush of pleasure and pride, then a returning cold focus, as she bent her mind and body to the task at hand. Had she noticed he was there in her mind? Maybe, it hardly mattered. They were linked so deeply that sometimes it seemed as though they shared every breath, every heartbeat. Two halves of a whole, and neither one complete without the other. A sudden need to be with her physically, to wrap his arms around her body and taste her, flooded him. Only Reinald's restraining hand on his arm stopped him from running from the room. Taking a deep breath, he subsided, giving the older Mage a nod that said "I'm okay," even as he fought for his equilibrium. Luckily, everyone else was focused on Jourdain as he began his report, causing Mulder to breathe a sigh of relief. He tended to be irreverent of protocol, but the last thing Andalor needed right now was Mulder rushing blindly out of the room in mid-session like some love-sick calf. Leaning back into the padded chair, Mulder drew one long leg against the other, then pivoted his head to the left as he recorded Jourdain's brusque, but informative speech. The facts were few, yet more than enough to send a cold blast of air into the brightly lit room. Drellor had been seen in his cell by a guard only moments before he had disappeared. The guard had only gotten a few feet down the corridor after delivering the morning meal, when there was a sudden loud noise from the former prince's room followed by a scream of utter terror from its inhabitant. The guard had turned and ran back, only to find the small, locked enclosure empty and the echo of a horrified cry lingering in the air. The traitorous prince was gone, vanished seemingly into thin air, leaving behind no more than a spilled tray of food and a magical sense that "something wicked this way came." That was the best Mulder could do to identify the ambiance within that room. Even now, the memory of that pervasive psychic stench made him wish for a way to scrub out the inside of his mind and soul. There was a moment of silence when Jourdain was done, then an abrupt explosion of conversation, several people yelling at once. "Silence!" Andalor insisted. The two nearest him shut their mouths, but Dordinal, Maalfees, and Forst had only just gotten started, and they raged on as though the young king had not spoken. So Andalor spoke the single word once more, but this time it rang through the room like the chime of a bell - echoing off the walls. "Silence!" Heads turned. Jourdain and Reinald's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise, appreciation, and a touch of nostalgia. Mulder's lips curved up in a wry smile, the non-human representatives nodded among themselves. Among the human representatives, everyone but Dordinal stuttered to a stop, leaving Marvick's thick voice to ring out in mid-sentence. "Drellor..." "Drellor was a traitor to the Realm." Andalor cut him off neatly, finally forcing Marvick to swallow hard and shut his mouth as he turned to face the king's deep violet gaze. "Whether he engineered his escape or was taken against his will, this can only mean danger to the Realm." "All evidence suggests that he was abducted." Jourdain offered, his craggy features solemn. "A man who is escaping prison doesn't scream loudly for help." Andalor nodded. "Then we must assume he was taken by someone who wishes to use his knowledge of the Realm against us." "Perhaps it was someone who felt that a Prince of the Realm deserved better treatment than a common criminal." Marvick was almost petulant in expressing a view he had been consistent on for the past seven years. Drellor had been a childhood friend, and Marvick refused to accept his old comrade's guilt, regardless of the evidence. Andalor's face was cold and certain as he stared at the older man. "I do hope that the House of Dordinal was not involved in this..." He deliberately let his voice trail off, and it had the desired effect. "NO!" Marvick was quick to deny this carefully phrased accusation. His florid countenance flushed as he sought to negotiate between his duty to Council and House, and his loyalty to a friend. "The House of Dordinal had nothing to do with this." Defending himself by going on the attack, he quickly threw the blame elsewhere. "It is obvious that the person responsible was a Mage of great power. How else could he be taken out of the dungeon without being seen? Unless, of course, the guard is part of a conspiracy." His deepset eyes moved coolly from Reinald and Mulder to Jourdain as he spoke, waiting for someone to rise to the bait. However, his targets refused to respond. Instead Andalor simply nodded, then let his eyes travel from one House representative to another. Maalfees looked uncomfortable, but obviously innocent; all knew that the House of Maalfees preferred negotiation and bargaining - they would talk long before they would act. Ranfaus remained as serene as ever, and he returned Andalor's gaze with easy assurance. Forst and the Highlands both looked aggrieved, but innocently so. The boy king caught Mulder's eyes, and got a silent assurance that his assumption was correct. The only House that might have acted in such a precipitous manner was Dordinal, but they would have been crowing about it by now if they were responsible. None of the others had reason or resources to do so. Andalor's eyes scanned the non-human representatives, but only cursorily - for they had even less rationale for freeing Prince Drellor than their human counterparts. And yet... There had been so much trouble lately between the species. Andalor was fighting hard to keep things under control, but the situation was slowly, but surely, deteriorating. Nonetheless, throwing accusations against the Council representatives would only make things worse, especially since Andalor trusted these three far more than he trusted the householders. Karvan was a friend, and the troll Forssk had long been a source of wise counsel to the young man trying to assume a very heavy responsibility. And the gentle, aged gargoyle, Kleevor? No, Andalor just couldn't believe it. So what was left? An outside agency that sought to use Drellor's knowledge of the Realm for its own purposes. A small shiver went up the teenage ruler's spine as he contemplated that possibility. He did not want to face another war. Not now, not when the Realm was just beginning to flourish after the long season-cycles of recovery from the Dark War. Beside him, Jourdain caught the quick flash of fear and uncertainty on Andalor's face, and he broke in to give the boy time to recover his composure. "It is obvious that this was an outside agency, and one utilizing a powerful magician." He looked over at Reinald, who nodded gravely, then answered. "Yes. And there is no question that black magic was used." Reinald shivered at the memory, then continued, "We have done as much as we can to rid the Realm of those practicing the dark rites - but there are outlying areas that we have not been able to reach." He frowned gravely, "However, what concerns me the most is the amount of power used. This was no insane village witch or dabbler, this was a fully trained Mage. I know of only three Blue Mages with similar power: myself, Mulder and one other." Reinald's voice rang out in the deep silence, reverberating off the stone walls. His audience was tense and still, some faces drawn tight, others fighting to maintain a stony calm. But the air was full of electricity - black magicians were the stuff of childhood horror stories and nightmares. Few existed, and those that did were usually weak. To most Realm citizens, they were the occupants of isolated hovels, twisted in body and mind. A threat only to the unwary, most villagers considered them as much a subject of pity as of fear. Reinald carefully weighed each word before he delivered it. "We have to assume that whoever took Drellor plans to use him against us. I have never felt such depth of evil since the Dark Creatures came, and in some ways this is worse. This is the choice of an intelligent mind, someone who has walked down the path to darkness with deliberate knowledge and malicious intent." Jourdain's usually ruddy face was blanched beneath its deep-scoured tan. "Do you have any idea who the Black Mage is?" Reinald could only shake his head. Beside him Mulder stirred in his chair. It was a slight motion, but enough to draw every pair of eyes in the room to his face. Drawing in a deep breath, Mulder sat up straight in his chair. "I don't know the Realm well enough to make any guesses as to who this could be, but I think there is one more possibility we ought to consider. The sense I got from that cell..." His mouth pursed tight as though tasting something sour. "It felt different. I know little of this world outside Fairwood, but I can't help feeling that this magic may be from beyond the Realm. We know that the Dark Creatures came through from another place. What if this new threat also comes from beyond the Realm?" Silence fell in heavy shrouds across the council chamber. No one spoke for several tense moments, each caught up in the horrors of his own imagination, then Andalor cleared his throat to speak. However, before he could form the first word the heavy wooden doors burst open. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" The guard who came running into the room slid to a halt, his breath coming in short gasps. "What is it?" Andalor demanded imperiously, drawing himself up to his full height in his seat. The intruder flushed red, then paled as he delivered the unpleasant news in a violent rush of words. "There is trouble in the North. The neighboring elf and human communities in Fawnleaf and Cresscreek have been arguing a lot lately," Andalor nodded impatiently, and the man hurried to continue. "Well, they've come to blows. People have already been hurt and both sides are mobilizing for battle." Karvan was on his feet in a split second, rage coalescing on his fine, delicate features, followed almost instantly by Ian of Forst. The two glared at each other with open hostility, Cresscreek was close to Forst's ancestral seat, while Fawnleaf was home to the elven ambassador's family. Andalor leapt to his feet, putting his hands up between them, palms outwards. "Sit down," he commanded quietly. Karvan ignored him, hissing under his breath. "Sit down," Andalor demanded again. Ranfaus put his hand on Forst's arm, firmly guiding him down into his seat. It was Mulder who reached out for Karvan, touching him very lightly, almost tentatively, on the shoulder. The quick brush of the Mage's fingers was nonetheless enough to catch the aura-sensitive elf's attention, the bright unconscious flash of blue capturing his eyes. Once Karvan had turned his head to meet Mulder's eyes, he was unable to break away from the mix of sympathy and determination in that focused hazel gaze. Karvan remained stubborn for a tense moment, then gave in gracefully, easing himself back into his chair. Andalor nodded in gratitude at Mulder, then pushing his chair back, came to stand up against the edge of the table, placing both hands flat against the polished surface. The words were difficult for him to summon, and he found himself wishing yet again that he had been born anything but a king's son; that this burden could fall on anyone else's shoulders but his own. However, Andalor had already had his experience in rebellion and had learned some difficult lessons. Now, he could only make the best decision he could, and pray it would be the right one. "Enough." His voice was surprisingly cool, expressing no evidence of the turmoil within. "This fighting amongst ourselves has got to stop. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior by anyone, whether by humans against elves or elves against humans. The culprits will be brought to justice for their actions, and I intend to send a strong message that will be heard throughout the Realm. Jourdain, take your best men and leave at once for Fawnleaf. You have my full authority to handle the situation as you see fit. Mage Mulder, I would request that you accompany Jourdain. I would send Reinald, but I need him here to continue investigating my uncle's abduction." Mulder nodded his agreement, willing to help however he could. The Realm had become like a second home to him, and he felt as though he owed these people for their gracious hospitality in taking two strangers into their home and hearts. Andalor gave him a fleeting smile, then his face settled into stone. "Karvan, I would also like to send an elven representative. Preferably someone whom the villagers will listen to, and someone who will be willing to promote peace." Karvan's face was equally grave, but his temper had quieted. He, too, feared the results of open warfare between the species. Nodding, he proffered his suggestion quietly, naming a widely known elven priestess, though he added the concern that she was a several-day journey away in a village called Yellowfork. "I know the village Mage in Yellowfork. He is young, but I think he can be instructed to assist in constructing a Gate. We should be able to get her here immediately," Reinald offered. "Good." Andalor gave his approval for the choice. He issued a few more short instructions to Jourdain, then sat down almost wearily. Jourdain stood up, glancing at the two Mages, then he bowed to the young king and hurried from the room. Mulder was quick to follow, Reinald paused to drop a supporting hand on Andalor's red-clad shoulder before exiting as well. - - - - - Even at a distance, Mulder's "magic-sense" tingled as he felt Reinald manipulate the massive energies of the Gate. He tightened down on his shield, forcing the loud whine of the Mage- wind to settle down to a tolerable murmur at the edge of his mind. Wrapping his cloak around him in a nearly unconscious gesture, he turned to listen to his friend as the big captain issued a series of short staccato orders to a young green-clad officer. When Jourdain was done, his subordinate scurrying off to finalize preparations for their journey, he met Mulder's gaze with deep concern. "I don't like leaving Fairwood now. Drellor's abduction is only going to make things worse for Andalor." Mulder nodded in sympathy. "I know. But he has Reinald here, and something has to be done about the situation up north. If this really does break out into open warfare, it could end up sending the entire Realm into civil war." Jourdain's eyes flashed blue fire, but his face was saddened, the large bones shadowed and heavy even in the bright spring sunlight. "Yes, I know. By the gods, why do these things always seem to happen all at once?" "Murphy's law." Mulder commented wryly. "Murphy?" Jourdain questioned. Mulder chuckled. "A...philosopher of sorts from my world. The idea basically is that whatever can go wrong, will go wrong." Jourdain nodded gravely, considering. "A wise man, this Murphy." He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. "But let us hope he is not always right. The sooner we can settle the dispute in Fawnleaf and return to Fairwood, the better I will feel. I am afraid that Drellor's abduction can only bode evil for the king." Mulder had to agree. "This is a lot for Andalor to deal with. He's doing extremely well, better than I would have expected, but the pressure has to be getting to him. Many of the nobles treat him like a child to be indulged, yet ignored." Jourdain frowned, then abruptly smiled. "Perhaps it is not so bad that they underestimate him. Andalor has his father's steel. Everyday he becomes more and more like him." His face took on a surprising gentleness. "In the meeting this morn, I could almost have sworn it was indeed King Barnas standing there. Still...if this situation does develop into civil war, he could have some very difficult decisions to make. Ordering men into battle, knowing some will die - it is the hardest task a ruler must perform." "Well, we'll just have to do everything we can to see it doesn't come to that." Mulder spoke with determination, but also with a fatalistic tinge to his voice. Even so, Jourdain took the implied commitment to heart, and his entire posture straightened. Holding his head high, he glanced towards the stables where men and horses were assembling. "I'd better see to the final arrangements for the trip. How soon do you think you'll be ready to leave? I'd like to get some distance covered today." "I just need to pack a bag, then say goodbye to Scully. Shouldn't take me long." "Good, I'll meet you on the practice field as soon as Urielle has arrived and the troop is ready." "Okay," Mulder nodded acceptance, then turned and walked back into the castle. Jourdain watched him go for a moment, the dusty ends of the Mage's blue cloak flapping around his lean calves. When the tall, slender man had disappeared into the interior of the castle, Jourdain spun on booted heels and strode briskly towards the stables. End of Chapter One THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two Small clouds of dust rose from the packed earth of the practice fields, covering the combatants with a fine sheen of brown earth. Sweat mixed with the coat of dirt, sending thin rusty rivulets trickling across forearms and necks, soaking into the muted green clothes. Scully walked between the pairs, gesturing instructions, speaking in soft, yet commanding tones. "Hold your arm higher, Louda...No, Greska, you're leaving your right side unguarded, hold your sword this way....Good, Shannon, but watch your wrist - the weight should be held from the shoulder and back rather than by the wrist itself, or it will tire on you...." Aldara glanced at her friend briefly as they passed in opposing circuits of the field, then turned her attention to a particularly troublesome student. Yurka, suffering from a troll version of adolescent rebellion, was half-heartedly hacking at the much taller elf in front of her. Aldara nudged at the elf to step aside, and drew her own sword. Yurka's scowl deepened in response, but she finally picked up her speed. Soon the two were fighting in earnest, Aldara weaving her sword like the master she was, her slight limp hardly showing. Scully gave a final word of encouragement to the pair nearest her, then turned her attention back to the sword-master and her increasingly belligerent student. Yurka, finding herself consistently missing her strikes against the agile half-elf, pulled back and then charged blindly, throwing all of her considerable strength into the strike...and less than a single breath later, found herself lying flat on her belly in the dirt, the point of Aldara's sword pressed against the back of her thick neck. Aldara held her there for a moment, then stepped back. All eyes were on her as she calmly resheathed her silver-bladed weapon. "Never let emotion blind you in a fight. The first to lose their calm - to stop thinking - will be the first to fall." Yurka groaned, pulling herself back to her feet, glaring at a couple of the other students when they giggled behind the hands pressed to their mouths. That only stimulated louder chuckles, which caught Scully's attention. "That's enough for now," she told them. Gaining a quick glance of approval from Aldara, she called out loudly. "Take a break - we'll reassemble in half a candlemark." The students scattered almost instantly, wandering away in small groups towards the castle and the market stalls. A few remained on the field, gathering up small bags from the edges of the work area and squatting down to munch on bread and cheese. Aldara grimaced at Scully. "Sometimes I wonder if I could ever have been that bad?" Scully chuckled, absently pressing some loose auburn curls back into her thick braid as she responded with open humor. "I don't know about you, but I'm sure I was." Aldara shook her head. "No, you were rough and inexperienced, but you had talent. Some of them..." "They'll get there," Scully reassured her friend. "Shannon is doing well, as is Louda and Florgin." Aldara considered, then a smile brightened the sharp lines of her face. "True. And they are young." Rubbing at her back, she gave Scully a rueful look. "Which I no longer am." Scully studied the half-elf for a moment, taking in the small, slender frame that still moved with grace and agility, despite the war wound that threw her stride slightly akilter. Aldara's mane of ebony curls was confined by leather thongs into a tight ponytail that was coiled around the top of her head like a crown. The brilliant green eyes were large and wide, and glittered in the sunshine like jewels. "You're hardly ready for retirement, Dara," Scully told her, flashing even white teeth in a smile. Aldara grinned in return. "Retirement? Ha! That's for rich, lazy nobles who never truly worked a day in their useless lives." They both chuckled, then turned in response to a warm male voice. "A private joke, or can anyone share?" //Mulder.\\ Scully didn't bother saying his name aloud, she responded to his presence with a gentle opening of her mind. Warmth stirred along every nerve in her body as she welcomed him, and felt his own acknowledgment of her flood back along that indefinable link that was their life-bond. Their communion silent, utterly private, it would hardly have appeared to an observer that they noticed each other at all. "Private," Aldara told him, mirth sparkling in her emerald eyes as she looked up at the blue-robed man towering over her. "Ahhh..." Mulder replied, mentally winking at Scully. "Gossiping?" He shook his head in mock disgust. Aldara kicked out at his ankle, but he deftly got out of the way. They shared a smile, then Mulder's demeanor turned serious. Scully caught the mood change even before it settled onto his face, and her fingers brushed his sleeve even as her mind caressed the edges of his. //What is it?\\ Mulder opened his memories to her, the sense of evil that had sent him racing to the basement, Drellor's abduction, the Council meeting, and finally, the mission to Fawnleaf. "Ohh," Scully drew in a deep breath, gratefully entwining her fingers with his as he closed his hand upon hers. Looking up into his face, she asked, "You're leaving soon?" He nodded. Reaching out to cup her cheek, he whispered. "I don't like leaving you." "I know, but Andalor is right. This is important." "You could come with us." Mulder spoke almost plaintively, but Scully simply shook her head. "I can do far more good here. With both you and Jourdain gone, Andalor is going to need all the help he can get." Aldara was watching them both with open concern. She could only discern that something serious was happening, but not the specifics. Finally, her impatience won through, and she demanded to know what was going on. Mulder and Scully were both startled, having forgotten that she was there in their total preoccupation with each other. His fingers still clinging to Scully's small hand, Mulder gave Aldara a quick synopsis of the morning's events. Her face darkened as he spoke, a mixture of fear and anger swelling behind her eyes. "I'm sorry, Aldara," he finished, waving his free hand helplessly. "I know your family is in Fawnleaf. But I don't know anything more about the situation." "I understand," the half-elf replied. Her voice was quiet. "I've never been close to my relatives, in fact I haven't been home for many, many years. But they are still my family." Scully's face was soft with understanding. "Jourdain and Mulder will make sure no one else gets hurt. I'm glad Andalor is responding so decisively." Aldara agreed. "I just don't understand what is happening. Tempers seem to be so short lately. Elves are always a bit intemperate, but we haven't had interspecies tensions like this in nearly a hundred season-cycles. And there's no reason for it now. Things have been good since the Dark was defeated seven season- cycles ago." Mulder rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. "I'm afraid that there IS a reason for it," he said cryptically. "What do you mean?" Scully asked. "I'm not sure, love, but I think there's something behind all of this - that it's being created to serve someone's interest." Mulder shrugged his shoulders, though his mouth tightened. Scully could feel the tension in his mind and body, and she reached instinctively out to him with reassurance. His eyes were warm as they settled on her upturned face. "But how?" Aldara questioned. "And who?" "I don't know," Mulder replied. He shivered slightly. "But whoever took Drellor this morning was very powerful. Reinald didn't know the spell used - it was complicated and difficult, requiring a great deal of power, training and control. What disturbs me the most is that the power felt...evil." He frowned, reaching for the words. "It was foul, made me feel dirty even at a distance." Aldara reacted with horror, while Scully was simply concerned. To the woman from a world without magic, it was still the stuff of fantasy. But to the half-elf, magic was a natural, and frightening, part of her world. Growing up talentless in a family full of magicians had sensitized her to the use and misuse of the power. It had been difficult enough for her to learn to live with, and come to care for, Blue Mages like Reinald and Mulder who utilized their abilities only for good, and refused to cause harm to others. The concept of a powerful Black Mage was terrifying to her, and though she tried to hide her fear, her skin bleached pale below its sun- hardened tan. Mulder immediately regretted his words, and did his best to reassure her. "This is all supposition, Aldara. A guess. It may well be that it's simply my imagination at work." He smiled ruefully, "It usually functions in overdrive." Scully smiled at that, though she had learned over the years together that, as wildly imaginative as he could be, Mulder's intuition was uncannily accurate. She had little doubt that he would be proved right in the long run, and the possibility scared her. When Mulder started getting *feelings* of this sort, bad things tended to happen. Further conversation was halted by a sudden shout of Mulder's name. A tall, slender young woman whose thick black hair was coiled into a pair of tight braids ran towards them, a delighted smile on her angular face. "Mulder! I mean, Taabsut Mulder," Shannon still stumbled over the Realm's reliance on titles and protocol, but her respect and affection for her guardian was heartfelt - and fully returned. "Hi Shannon," Mulder responded, turning to welcome her, grinning boyishly. "Have you come to watch me practice? Are you going to practice with us? I learned this neat new move - I can show it to you, if you like." Mulder chuckled. "Another time. I'm afraid I'll have to take a raincheck." "Oh," her face fell briefly, then recovered quickly. "Okay. But you can stay for a while?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Actually, I'm here to say goodbye." "Goodbye?" "Jourdain and I have a job to do for the king. There's some interspecies fighting going on in a village north of here. We're riding up to adjudicate the case." "Oh," Shannon looked upset, then she brightened. "Can I come?" she asked with adolescent fervor. Mulder couldn't help sharing a smile with Scully. The sullen, angry teenager who had come with them to the Realm had slowly been replaced by this happy, glowing young woman over the past few moon-cycles. As she became accustomed to the life here, she had begun to develop both confidence and enthusiasm, and had even begun to accept her aura-designated place in this society. As her skills as a fighter increased, so did her trust in herself and the people around her. "Another time," he told her fondly, but firmly. "This could be a difficult situation. And we need to get it solved as quickly as possible." The corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards, warming the strong planes of his face. "So I can hurry back here and learn those moves from you." She looked disappointed, but accepted his decision philosophically, not really having expected to be included. "I'll stay out of the way," she offered as a last attempt to change his mind. Scully intervened. "You have a great deal of work to do here, Shannon. Particularly with your sword-handling. " Shannon grimaced, then shrugged. "Yeah - okay." She looked up at Mulder, mentally delighting in the fact that she was near to his height. A few inches taller than Scully, she was still growing in sudden spurts. "I'll miss you," she told him gravely. "I'll miss you too," he replied. He reached out to her, and she responded by hugging him tightly. Then she stepped back and calmly pointed her forefinger at him. "Be careful," she admonished. "Yes, ma'am," he bowed his head to her. She grinned and spun around on her booted heels to race towards her friends who were already assembling in the center of the field. Mulder glanced over at Aldara. "Keep an eye on her." Aldara smiled. "We'll keep her too busy to even *think* about getting into trouble. But I agree with her. Be careful, Mulder." "I will, and I'll have Jourdain to look after me. And speaking of your husband..." Mulder looked over Aldara's head at the big form approaching them with characteristic steadiness. Aldara turned to follow his gaze, and her entire face lit up. Excusing herself with a quick smile, she stepped away to meet him a few feet away. Scully watched the large man enfold his diminutive wife in his arms, leaning backwards instinctively as Mulder wrapped his arms around her. She wriggled around in his arms until she was facing him, and immediately burrowed her face into his chest. The wool of his cloak was rough but warm against her cheek and nose, and she gratefully drew in the smell of him. Herbal soap was mixed with leather, colored by a slight, unfamiliar musty odor, and the clean masculine scent that was all his own. His arms tightened around her, and she closed her eyes with pleasure. Instinctively, she tilted her hips to press herself up against him, molding the slender curves of her body to the lean strength of his. As she moved, she felt his response, both physical and emotional wash over her, his body hardening against her belly, his mind overflowing with a mix of love and desire, wistful regret threaded with excitement. //Dana.\\ His mind caressed hers while his mouth nibbled at the crown of her fiery head, then traced down the line of her temple to her cheek. She lifted her face, not bothering to open her eyes, letting him read her desires without speaking them aloud. A gasp was caught in her throat as he gave her all that she could have wished for, at long last claiming her lips with the insistent pressure of his. She clutched at his shoulders and he supported her, devouring her lips, her mouth, teasing at her tongue with his. She drew him in and held him there, almost as though she were trying to literally meld their flesh together. And he sought that contact as eagerly as she did, the knowledge of their separation adding a flavor of desperation to their lovemaking. Scully had never been one to put their relationship in the public eye, and neither was Mulder, both choosing to guard their privacy. But now, knowing that they were facing time apart, the need to be together - to join their bodies as they joined their minds - was intoxicating, demanding, pushing aside all recognition of their surroundings. He could have lowered her into the dirt of the practice field and torn aside their clothing, and she would have welcomed him. Wrapped her legs around his back and dug her fingers into him, screaming out her pleasure into the open air. And mind-to-mind, indeed, they made love - the joining more spiritual than physical, a shared sensation, wrapped in layer upon layer of imagination; memory and dreams spun into a web of psychic reality. Scully moaned aloud as he tasted her throat, licked at the hollow beneath her chin, drew long, elegant fingers down the length of her spine. Her own hands tested the familiar planes of his back and shoulders, then slipped upwards to tangle into the silken darkness of his hair. As he matched her with a low groan of his own, the sunlight caught on the sapphire stone set in the heavy gold ring on his right hand, sending out an unnoticed blaze of blue fire. Her own ring gleamed in brown and green before it was obscured by his hair, the warmth of the metal less still than the warmth of her sun-bronzed skin. And the color less than the bright coppery glow of her auburn hair. His hands threaded through the thick coils, threatening to dislodge the tight braid from the top of her head. Even through the whirlwind of their passion, she felt the heavy braid shift and loosen causing her to laugh as she reached up to grab at his wrist. "Stop that!" she told him sternly, though her blue eyes were dancing as they met his. He grinned unabashedly, his mind finding and focusing on a memory - an image of her sitting up in bed, hair curling loose around her bare shoulders, picking up reflections of the firelight. //I like it down.\\ She almost blushed at the image, though the emotions that accompanied it - pleasure, delight, appreciation, sexual desire, and above all, love - made her heart beat even faster in her chest. The blood rushing in her veins, she gave him a slow, loving smile, generous red lips curving over white teeth, dimples forming in her cheeks. //It's not practical when I'm working.\\ The slight chiding tone was underwritten with amusement and satisfaction. He responded by framing her face with his hands. His thumbs rubbed gently at her temples, then ran down across her cheekbones to her mouth. Her hands clinging to his upper arms, she remained still as he ran the edge of his right thumb over her bottom lip. Slowly, he bent his head down towards hers and licked at that lip. She sighed, her mouth opening in invitation, but he restrained himself to the single caress. He repeated the pair of gestures with her upper lip, her nose, her chin, then aimed for her earlobe. "Eeeewwww," she giggled, pulling away as he thrust his tongue deep into her ear. Mulder chuckled as she mock-frowned at him, then joined him in his laughter. He silenced her with a gentle kiss, then pulled back again to stare down into her upturned eyes. //I love you.\\ //I love you,\\ she responded, sending the thought on a wave of emotion. Instantly, they were again kissing, touching, clinging to each other, lost in an intense wave of passion. Unaware of the world around them, and the man staring at them, one hand outstretched, his mouth half-open in aborted speech. The small woman by the big man's side was less restrained. Moving swiftly, she reached out to grab their arms and tugged hard. Even so, it took a moment for the entwined pair to respond. Breaking apart abruptly, they both turned towards the unwelcome interruption, and blushed, a wave of color creeping over both faces in unison. Aldara let go of their arms, and placed her hands on her small hips in a gesture of mock-impatience. Behind her, Jourdain was staring at them apologetically, though with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Sorry to interrupt you," Aldara said, "but we do have a class to teach." "Class?" Scully turned to see the entire group of students watching them, many of them barely managing to stifle giggles behind their hands. "Uh oh," she whispered, cursing her tell-tale coloring even as her skin managed to blush more furiously. Mulder chuckled into her ear. "Looks like we've got an audience." She frowned up at him, but couldn't keep up the annoyance for more than a second. Especially not now. Scully glanced over at Jourdain, then back at her lover. "You have to go." It was more of a statement than a question, and one that Mulder confirmed quickly. "Yes." He leaned down to steal one last, quick kiss. "Take care of yourself, love," he whispered, reluctantly stepping back. She reached out to grab his arms and hold him just a moment longer. "You too. Mulder, please...be careful and come home soon." Worry flickered onto her face, and he instantly tried to reassure her. With a gentle smile, he cupped her cheek. "I will. I'll be home so soon you won't even realize I'm gone." She essayed a tentative smile, closed her hand over his and drew it to her mouth. Placing a kiss on his palm, she finally released him and stepped back. Turning to Jourdain, she wished him well. "Have a safe trip, and take of him for me." The big captain nodded seriously. "I will." He looked over at Mulder. "We'd better get going, I would like to get to Wishalla before nightfall." Mulder nodded. He reached out to touch Aldara's shoulder in a silent goodbye, then he fell into step beside Jourdain. The two men strode across the field towards the stable, pausing on the edge of the enclosure to briefly glance back at the women they loved, then hunching their shoulders, they disappeared from sight. - - - - - Scully herded the students back into their places, feeling as though every eye was burning into her back. Once Mulder was gone, the passion fled with him, leaving an empty sensation in the pit of her belly. He had been absent for less than a handful of breaths, and already she ached for him. That sense of need was only aggravated by the embarrassment flooding her, as she realized that all of her students had witnessed her impassioned, and unfortunately very public, goodbye to her bondmate. If only they could have had some time alone... but what was done was done. Scully squared her shoulders, then reached for her sword. After all, everyone already knew about her relationship with Mulder. Auras were easily read by most Realm denizens, and though Scully had only recently begun to see them herself, she realized that the lifebond was clearly visible to anyone with an eye to see. Still, the implicit nature of the relationship embodied in that psychic aural bond was a bit different from acting it out in front of twelve teenagers, all of whom were supposed to be looking to her for advice and training. Like a wedding ring, anyone seeing the lifebond would know they were sexually involved - but there was a level of privacy between that implicit knowledge and seeing it acted out in public. She sighed under her breath as she led them in some basic exercises, hoping she hadn't done too much damage to her position as instructor, totally unknowing that the primary emotion most of the students had felt was simple envy. Lifebonded to a Mage - and not just any Mage, but one who was young, handsome, and extremely talented - Scully had no way of knowing that this was the subject of many a young woman's fantasy in the Realm. Since it was *never* done, it held the flavor of the forbidden, which only made the dreams sweeter and more tantalizing. To see it realized in front of them elicited a flood of emotions, envy mixed with awe, jealousy with respect, and a strong dash of curiosity to flavor the mix. Add in her own unique talents, warrior and healer talents in one person, and she would never have to worry about losing their attention or their admiration. But Scully, lost in her own thoughts, was hardly aware of the looks she was receiving, or how those emotions were fueling the fires within them. Focusing on the demands of the sword training, she pushed them, and herself, harder and harder - demanding all they could give. For a while, all went well. Even the difficult-to-please Aldara was nearly smiling with satisfaction. They spent a candlemark rehearsing the basic moves, moving in unison, thirteen blades slicing the bright spring air in steady, convoluted patterns. Then they paired up again, in two rotating semi-circles, each student clashing briefly with the one facing her, then spinning sideways at a shouted command. Around like two interlocked wheels they went, until finally, something broke. Florgin moved to take Shannon's place with Yurka, only to find the two combatants still squared off, breaking out of formation to circle each other warily. Yurka was still suffering from the earlier humiliation at Aldara's hands, and it hadn't been difficult to transfer the rage to the tall, foreign girl. Shannon held an enviable position as Mulder's niece, and her close friendship with King Andalor was fodder for castle gossip. To the angry, humiliated troll princess, she became a living symbol of all the forces arrayed against her in her own mind. She hated looking up to the taller humans, and though she never would admit it, she was deeply homesick for her forest kingdom. The knot of pain and bitterness welled up inside, then abruptly exploded, when she found herself unable to keep up with Shannon's agile quickness. Her green skin deepening in color, she let out a cry of rage and charged blindly, only to find herself stumbling past her taller opponent, Shannon's sword tapping lightly at her back. "Wolf dung!" she cursed, recovering her balance and hefting her sword. This time, her fury was cold and concentrated. She deliberately led Shannon into believing the next strike would come as the last had done, but this time the small, powerfully muscled troll was prepared for the human girl's side-step and she spun on her heels and thrust back-handed at her opponent. The tip of her blade slid under Shannon's guard and struck against her abdomen, slicing into her green tunic and drawing a few drops of blood. Shannon cried out, bringing her own sword around hard, the impact of it against Yurka's iron blade reverberating up her arm and through her slender frame. The troll felt the collision too, but it only spurred her on. Slicing through the air with massive strokes of her heavily-muscled forearm, she struck out at Shannon, forcing her to yield ground. Blood oozing from the sharp gash in her belly, Shannon's temper frayed and then gave way. Her eyes blazed as she finally stood her ground, but it was just a moment too late. Yurka's momentum carried her onward, a violent thrust and shove sending Shannon tumbling to the ground. Growling, Yurka knelt down onto Shannon's chest, drawing the silver-edged blade down against the girl's exposed neck. As though at a distance, she could hear Aldara and Scully's voices screaming for her to stop, but that seemed only another reason to take her revenge. Shannon felt, more than saw, the sharp edge of the sword fall towards her throat. Blood rushed though her veins, her head pounding, her senses screaming. She felt like she was on fire, as though an electric current was rising from the ground itself and coursing though her entire body. Something seemed to give way inside her mind, and then there was a bright flash of blue light, blinding in its intensity. An instant before her sword would have pierced Shannon's skin, Yurka was thrown upward by that burning blue light, her body twisting in mid-air, her mouth caught in a silent scream. Below her, Shannon gasped for breath as energy drained from her body in one abrupt rush, then left her lying limp and nearly senseless in the dirt. Simultaneously, the blue envelope holding the troll suspended in mid-air shimmered and then disappeared, leaving its hapless prisoner to tumble to the unforgiving ground. When Scully and Aldara converged on them, both troll and human were laying sprawled on the ground, limbs outstretched at uncomfortable angles, only the rise and fall and their chests indicating life still stirred within. "GET UP!!" Scully yelled. Mulder had been gone for barely a couple of candlemarks, but she could feel his absence scratching at the edge of her awareness. Without him she felt incomplete, empty, and that internal ache was only exacerbated by the mix of emotion stirred by their very public leave-taking. She felt sexually frustrated and deeply embarrassed at the same time, and abruptly, her tumultuous emotions exploded in a flash of anger. Reaching down, she grabbed both semi-conscious students by their tunics and shook them hard. Ignoring the wide-eyed stares of Aldara and the other students, Scully lashed out with a vehement tirade towards both Shannon and Yurka, even though both were in no condition to listen, much less appreciate the lecture they were being subjected to. Finally, Scully's flood of words faded off to silence, and she dropped them both to the ground with a groan of frustration. Stalking away, Scully let Aldara and the others tend to Shannon and Yurka's physical wounds, while she stood by herself, shaking, trying to regain her control. What in the Realm was wrong with her? End of Chapter Two THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Three The necessarily slow pace on the narrow path gave Mulder ample time to dwell on the purpose of their mission, as well as on his own ills. Shifting impatiently in his saddle, he gathered his Mage-cloak more closely around him, for once grateful for its bulk. He let his horse follow the others along the pitted and tortuous trail through the cold, dank forest as, hunched miserably, he rode lost in thought. They were finally nearing Fawnleaf, the village where Aldara had been born and raised. An ancient feud concerning boundary lines and water rights between elven Fawnleaf and its neighboring human village, Cresscreek, had been resurrected from the depths of time. All the old stories of inequalities and past transgressions had been dredged up. For almost a full moon-cycle, fights had broken out between the inhabitants of the two villages in market towns, taverns - indeed, anywhere that the feuding villagers met. The situation simmered, each incident getting a little more violent, each occurrence growing in the telling, until finally serious bloodshed broke out. A human mob had marched on an elven farm near a boundary line in question, burning it to the ground, slaughtering livestock and seriously injuring the farmer as he tried to escape with his family. On the heels of the mob's attack, ugly rumors of a plan for revenge by the elves of Fawnleaf had made their way to Fairwoods. Andalor had no choice but to react swiftly, before more blood was spilled. Mulder arched his back and rolled his head on his neck, trying to ease the tension there. He had jumped at the chance to accompany Jourdain, relishing the opportunity to contribute to the peace-keeping efforts. He also wanted to get to know Urielle better. While two squads of troops accompanied them on this mission, they were not to be used unless all other means of controlling violent outbreaks failed. Andalor in laying his plan was relying heavily on the presence of Urielle, an elven priestess, to convince the beings of Fawnleaf that revenge was against the most-cherished tenets of their faith and would serve no purpose. If that failed, Mulder knew that he would be the next one up to bat, with a showy display of magic that was designed to make the feuding villagers think twice about furthering their dispute. Mulder pulled his cloak higher on his neck. Of course, it seemed like a much better idea yesterday. A night alone on wet, cold ground huddled under soggy blankets had literally dampened his enthusiasm, and he was missing his bondmate terribly. Now he was tense, jumpy and longed only to get back to Scully and their big high warm bed. He shivered at a sensation like an electric current running just beneath his skin, at once stimulating and irritating, like pins and needles. He rubbed his hands together, trying to rid himself of the strange sensation that had been building for hours, then he looked around distastefully. The drizzle had let up at last, but the canopy of overhanging branches still dripped with cold moisture and shielded the sun, casting the forest in a pervasive gloom. Even the ring Andalor had given him, gold with the clearest Mage-blue stone, seemed to have lost its sparkle and hung on his finger, heavy, cold and dull. Urielle rode just ahead, protected between himself and Jourdain. Even Mulder, not very accomplished at the art, could see her aura; a soft golden glow with a wide border of blue. She was endowed with more than the usual elven share of magical ability, and might have developed that talent further. But from childhood, she had known that her destiny was to live as an example to her people and practice the ancient rites of her faith. She was even tinier than normal for an elf, with long flaxen hair which covered her pointed ears. Crowning her hair was a wreathlet of lashella vines, a plant used in her worship ceremonies. She was clothed in the simple, stark white finecloth shift and cloak which marked her as a priestess. Riding on the back of one of the massive Realm horses, she radiated an overwhelming sense of serenity which in itself brought some comfort. It was reputed that when she spoke, her deep sense of peace was communicated to her listeners. It was just this sense of calm that the peace mission hoped would spread among the warring villagers. Usually Urielle dwelled with her sister priestesses of the age-old Beyfahla faith in a remote part of the Fairwoods Forest, held sacred by the devout. But she had been conducting the Spring planting rites in Yellowfork, a village far to the south, when Andalor realized that her presence might very well secure the success of the mission. Reinald had reassured the terrified but fascinated Yellowfork Mage in the steps to constructing a Gate. Fortunately, the young man was an able student and together, they safely transported Urielle to Fairwoods Castle in time to join the peace mission. Everyone's highest hopes were that she would prevent further bloodshed, not only in the feuding villages to the north, but everywhere in the Realm that such hatred was festering. The way I'm feeling, thought Mulder grimly, I hope that Urielle CAN do it all. He was wound up like a watchspring, and the rigors of diplomacy were the last thing on his mind at the moment. He tried to communicate with Scully again, and again he failed. Something was interfering with their communication - it shouldn't be so difficult from such a short distance away. Maybe it had something to do with the strange sensations he was feeling. He consciously tensed all his muscles and, taking a few deep breaths, tried to relax them. But it was an exercise in futility; he remained as wound up as he was before. Sourly, he prodded his horse in the flanks to hurry it along. The path finally began to widen into a clearing. A few hundred meters further on, the muddy track became a road paved with cobblestones leading into a small village. As they passed, elves looked up sullenly from their work and stared. Still grasping their tools, they followed the horses to the meeting place of the elders in the village square. A grim assemblage of older men came out of the thatched cottage to meet them as Jourdain, Mulder and Urielle dismounted. "Away with you! We have no need of a lecture from a human king telling us how to behave." Mulder's expression darkened and clouds began once again to obscure the setting sun. Head throbbing, he was more than happy to take a step back and let his companions take charge of the situation. Let them deal with the ungrateful, bloodthirsty little buggers, he thought. But Jourdain was already glowering and historically had little patience for diplomacy at the best of times. Urielle returned Mulder's gaze and appeared to be looking to him to speak and preserve the fragile calm. Bowing to the inevitability of the situation, he cleared his throat. Summoning all his control to override his mood, in a soft respectful tone the Mage said, "There will be no lecture, honored elder. We bring our condolences for your recent afflictions and Urielle, priestess of Beyfahla, who will help you to heal. The king wishes you only peace. He offers his assistance in bringing this sad conflict to a close." The elders seemed taken aback by Mulder's almost humble manner, but quickly returned to their aggressive stance. The chief elder's lips thinned into a scornful smile. "Word of your journey has already reached the ears of the human garbage of Cresscreek. We have it on good authority that they are on their way here now, to enlist you humans in their cause. We have dwelled on this earth for many years and are not easily fooled. If the king is offering his assistance, it will not be to the favor of elven Fawnleaf, of that there can be no doubt." Solemnly Mulder shook his head. "My message to you stands, honored elder. The king has not taken sides. He only wishes for the bloodshed to end." "Well, we'll soon see. But they will not find us unprepared," the elder replied coldly. "You've come on a fool's errand, Mage. Why don't you go back to where you came from and mind your own business?" In a sudden rush of anger, Mulder took a step toward the elder, towering over him. The elves closest to the Mage retreated quickly, less because of the look in his eye than the appearance of his aura, which was flaring in white-blue all around him. A startled Jourdain looked over at the Mage. Although blind to his aura, he could see that Mulder was furious, an emotion he had rarely observed in the young man. He braced himself to be ready for anything. The elves on the outskirts of the group now crowded in, determined to be in a position to retaliate against the king's men should any attack be launched against their elders. Forcing himself to regain control of his frayed nerves, Mulder stepped back slowly, de-escalating the threat against the elders. A few moments of deep controlled breathing, and his aura glowed clear blue and the sky once again began to clear. The elves all breathed an involuntary sigh of relief, for however angry they were, no one had any desire to be on the receiving end of the Mage's temper. Breathing his own sigh of relief, Jourdain looked around at the growing number of elves who encircled them, all holding scythes, pitchforks, hammers or some other tool which could all too easily become a lethal weapon. "Bashar, come here." The squad leader urged his horse over to his captain. "Take your squad and ride out on the road to Cresscreek. Escort their party here. And mind - keep an eye out for trouble. This mission could turn into a disaster if there is an ambush on the way here." Bashar nodded curtly, gathered his troops and galloped off. There was an uncomfortable silence as the group from Fairwoods Castle met the glowering stares of their elven hosts. Mulder felt uneasy, like something was missing, and then remembered that they had been in the village some minutes now and none of the customary - indeed required - etiquette had been observed. His anger swirled again, causing fire to spark in his eyes while his aura again flamed outward in brilliant azure waves of pure energy. The elders instantly backed off a quick step, then exchanged fearful glances. At a nod from the chief elder, they scurried to distribute tea, first to Mulder and Urielle, and finally to Jourdain and his remaining soldiers. Then they seated themselves on the stone benches in the square, leaving their guests standing. This was another deliberate slight, another serious breach of Realm etiquette, and all eyes were turned to the Fairwoods party to catch their reaction. The tension was mud-thick, and a low grumble was starting amongst the remaining squad of soldiers and soon echoed in the mob of elven villagers. With a glance, Jourdain quelled any sound from his troops. Grim-faced, Mulder caught the captain's eye, both men ready for action if the situation required it, indeed, almost hoping for an excuse to knock some sense into the elders.... Looking down, the Mage observed Urielle, who was concentrating fiercely. Eyes focused on the distance, it appeared that she was both blind and deaf to anything around her. Within seconds, the air felt less highly charged and those around her seemed to relax a bit. Even Mulder felt a lightening of his mood, and almost groaned in relief as the knotted muscles in the back of his neck relaxed a little. One elder, and then others, invited the Fairwoods party to sit. Somewhat chastened, they began to speak with their guests in small groups. Urielle let out a long shaky breath and staggered slightly. Mulder grabbed her arm to support her frail frame and led her over to sit on a stone bench. "Nice work," he said softly, seating himself next to her. "Have you always been an empath?" She turned to him, questioning. "An empath?" "Yes. An empath is someone who can discern the feelings of others and affect them in some manner," he explained. As his own tensions lessened and the irritating sensation beneath his skin became more bearable, his burning curiosity took hold. Urielle gazed at him serenely. "Yes, since I was quite young. All priestesses have the ability to some degree. I've had to practice it, to learn to perfect it, of course, and as you can see it takes a lot out of me. But when the conditions are right, I can adjust attitudes to be a bit more...cooperative." "And what are the right conditions?" "I must intervene early." She sighed. "If there is too much violence, too much hatred and evil and negativity, if there are too many people experiencing those sensations, it's just too difficult to fight against. I try to adjust the mood first, then speak. That's what I hope to do here. Please the Goddess, it will work." She surveyed the elders and the crowd. "There is a lot of hate here, I can feel it. But there's something else as well, as if this is being superimposed or forced...." She shook her head and looked at him with an apologetic smile. "I can't explain it." Mulder opened his mouth for another question but was interrupted by hoofbeats. Moments later, several large wagons rumbled to a stop, escorted by Bashar's squad. Scores of humans, armed with tools and knives, poured out of the wagons and filled the north side of the square. Three older humans strode threateningly up to the Fawnleaf elders. Jourdain motioned to his troops who drew their weapons as he and Mulder leapt between the adversaries. The startled humans took a step back. "All right. All of you! Anything that you're holding - put it down now. Elves - place your weapons over by the well. Humans, throw them in the back of your wagons. NOW!" Jourdain's growl left no room for argument. With resentful glances, the crowd did as he ordered. "See that you continue to behave yourselves. Is that clear?" There was a rumble of petulant assent. "Now, you will give your full attention to Urielle, priestess of Beyfahla." Mulder lifted the tiny elf onto the base of the battle memorial raised to commemorate those who fell in the war with the Dark Creatures. He watched the sullen crowd and his expression darkened. Turning to Urielle, he noted her anxious, puzzled expression. "What's wrong?" he asked in a low voice. "I think.... There's...." She stopped and began again. "I'm not sure I can do this," she whispered, her eyes focused on the distance. "The hatred - it's so strong, so unnaturally strong, it's like a wall of black stone. I'm not sure I can get through to them." "You have to try, Urielle," he urged desperately. "I know." She took a deep breath and concentrated all her thoughts toward calming the hundred or more angry beings before her. She was silent for several minutes, trembling with the effort she was exerting. Finally she opened her eyes and in a low, rich voice, began to speak. "Good beings of Fawnleaf, good beings of Cresscreek. Listen to me, then listen to your hearts. This hatred, these transgressions against your neighbor - these are not the actions of the hard-working, Goddess-loving people of these villages. Look deep into your souls. Not so long ago, you were as brothers, fighting against the Dark Creatures and the terror and hardships that they brought with them to our land. Look upon this memorial and think of the many who bravely sacrificed their lives so that you could live in peace. What has happened, my children, that now you fight your brothers as savagely as you once fought those beasts? Can any of you say that your brother poses so great a threat that you must take up arms against him?" "No, my children, listen to the teachings of the Goddess who walks amongst us still: take not arms up against your brother, for surely you are taking them up against yourself. Make your heart peaceful and show to everyone only your joy. Revenge is an unholy act, condemned by the Goddess. In her wisdom, she knows that revenge brings only more blood and hate. Follow the teachings of the Goddess. Do not sever yourself from her wisdom and love." The crowd had lost their angry, resentful expressions and were now listening to Urielle's low melodious voice, rapt in her message. Mulder noted with alarm her pallor, the beads of sweat standing out on her brow. In spite of her seeming serenity, the tranquillity of her message, she was pouring out enormous amounts of energy. He hoped she would be able to keep it up - whatever she was doing, it was working. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling shriek cut across Urielle's words. Harnessed to one of the Cresscreek wagons, a pair of giant Realm steeds reared up, eyes wild with terror, hooves flailing the air and nostrils flaring. A second later, they were tearing toward the crowd, the wagon veering madly behind them, flinging discarded weapons across the square. The screaming crowd scattered in all directions, trying to get out of the way of the charging animals and their lethal cargo, crashing into each other and trampling the fallen underfoot in their panic. Jostled by terrified beings running for their lives, Urielle lost her balance and fell from her perch on the monument, rolling helplessly into the square. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the stampeding horses scant meters away and bearing down on her. In a flash, Mulder scooped the nearly weightless body of the priestess into his arms. Stumbling from the momentum of his action, he made it to the other side of the square holding her to his chest. Then, sweat blinding his vision, he tripped. Still protecting the tiny priestess, he rolled as he fell heavily onto his right shoulder. As the wagon tore by, he managed to get her under him and protected by his body from the debris flying in its path. Almost unnoticed in the panic, two of the Fawnleaf elders went down under the wheels of the wagon, their shrieks of terror and agony drowned out by the mob. - - - - - Scully bent stiffly to pick up a misplaced swordguard where it lay in the dirt of the practice grounds. Automatically, she wiped the grime from the guard with her tunic before handing it to Aldara for safekeeping. The students had been dismissed early today from the practice grounds. Although Aldara and Scully had seen to it that Yurka and Shannon were widely separated throughout the morning and afternoon exercises, it was clear that the concentration of all of the students was more on yesterday's fracas than on today's drills. And the auburn-haired warrior had to admit that her concentration was not all that it should have been either. She missed Mulder, missed him terribly. She had gotten little sleep the previous night, almost physically aching for her bondmate. She finally gave up trying, and had spent the rest of the night restlessly pacing the battlements. Between Mulder's absence and the trouble yesterday.... Shannon and Yurka had come close to killing each other. What had possessed Shannon to retaliate like that? For that matter, what had possessed her opponent to launch so savage an attack in the midst of a practice session? There was a general undercurrent of unrest that Scully had noticed for several weeks with some discomfiture. Perhaps both Shannon and the troll had been influenced by it. Of course, it still didn't explain the girl's inadvertent use of magic.... While she thought, Scully absently massaged her shoulder and stretched out her back muscles, grimacing as she did so from the soreness in her body. "Are you all right?" Aldara looked at her friend with a worried expression. "You look - I don't know - strange." "Of course I'm all right," she snapped. Scully shook her head, then immediately regretted the action as the pain behind her eyes increased exponentially. "Aldara, I'm sorry. I don't know. It started yesterday, a little while after Mulder left. I'm just in a lousy mood, I guess. Worrying about Mulder, worrying about the situation between the species. And now trying to figure out what the hell's going on with Shannon. I feel like I could jump out of my skin. Maybe I'm coming down with something," she said doubtfully. Or I have the Realm's worse case of PMS, she thought to herself. She willed herself to relax. "Never mind. Forget it." "Why don't you have dinner with us tonight?" suggested Aldara, sympathetically. "We're both alone, with Mulder and Jourdain being away. And Lita said she was going to make kalarna tonight - a traditional elf dish from a recipe that's been in her family for generations. You know, as much as Lita loves me, I still haven't persuaded her to divulge that recipe. Come to think of it, I guess that may be just as well, all things considered." In spite of her previous bad temper, Scully suppressed a laugh as her friend's face clouded with bemusement. Aldara's cooking was legendary for some truly spectacular failures. After each failed attempt, after the flames had been doused or the mess cleaned off the walls, Aldara had always protested that she had done exactly as the recipe had directed. Her forays into the art of cuisine had dwindled lately, to the relief of her husband. "Either eat it with me or eat it alone - Lita always makes double and sends the rest for you and Mulder anyway. In any case, it will do you good to get a hot meal inside you." Scully smiled gratefully. "I can't promise how much I'll eat, but I certainly could use the company. If I stay by myself, I'll just dwell on how lonely and miserable I am, which is what I did all last night. I hate it when Mulder goes away...." Her voice trailed off and she seemed far away for a few minutes. "Scully?" "Hm? Oh, sorry Aldara." She shivered. "Come to think of it, a nice hot meal sounds pretty good right now." "Great," Aldara smiled. "There is a small price to pay, however. Do you mind if I ask your advice about Daanna?" "I can't claim to be an authority on childrearing, but I'll do my best," replied Scully. "More problems?" The two women strolled companionably the short distance from the practice grounds to the small cottage that Aldara shared with Jourdain and their daughter, Daanna. Mulder and Scully had recently helped them to build another extension to the cottage. Daanna now had her own room, complete with fireplace, at the opposite end of the cottage from the older extension which housed her parents' bedroom. The large main room, which had once been the entire dwelling, now functioned only as kitchen and living area. Aldara had furnished it simply but comfortably. Her flair had been in decorating with wonderful hand-loomed tapestries. During her recuperation from her war injuries, she had found much to her astonishment that she had a real gift for the art of weaving. Now her creations graced her home and the homes of her closest friends, who were delighted to have them. In Mulder and Scully's quarters alone hung three of Aldara's original tapestries, the scenes depicting some of their most cherished memories together. Entering the warm cottage, Scully sniffed the air appreciatively. Lita looked up from a pot she was stirring on the hearth to smile her welcome. On the hearthrug, Daanna played with some blocks, her small face frowning in concentration as she built her tower. Weary, aching, Scully sat at the table and gratefully accepted the mug of tea that Lita placed in front of her. "Dinner is ready for you, my chicks. Daanna and I have already eaten, so we'll go prepare Scully's quarters for the night while you have a nice chat. Will you come and help me, Daanna?" "Yes! Yes, please!" The little girl leapt off the rug and ran to the door, eyes sparkling. "Bye Momma, bye Scully." With a wink at the two friends, Lita and the child went out the door. "You should say Warrior Healer Scully, Daanna." The door closed on the remainder of her words. "Was that prearranged, or is Lita a mindreader?" Scully asked Aldara with a smile. "In this particular case I spoke with her earlier, but I wouldn't rule anything out where Lita is concerned," she replied. She seemed undecided about how to proceed, so she rose and began serving the kalarna, which turned out to be a whole roasted fish with some kind of savory stuffing. She added some vegetables from the pot and handed Scully a steaming plate. She blew gently on the food to cool it before taking a bite. "Mmm! Really unusual flavor, unlike anything I've ever had before. It's good." Scully had met Daanna when she and Mulder had returned to the Realm. While it was obvious that Aldara loved her daughter, it was equally obvious that it was not the usual mother-daughter relationship. Aldara had been having a difficult time, not so much with Daanna's behavior as with her reactions to Daanna's talents. The child possessed many powerful gifts, apparent magical abilities that made her mother very uncomfortable. Scully often served as a sounding board for Aldara as the woman struggled to forge a bond with her own little girl. If her friend was having a hard time introducing the subject of the most recent problems, Scully thought she would make it easier for her. "So - what's up with Daanna?" Aldara made a gesture of complete bewilderment. "For the most part, nothing. She hasn't had any of her foretelling dreams now in a while, and she is a very sweet, very obedient child. Most mothers would consider themselves lucky to have a child like Daanna. And I do - I truly do consider myself lucky. But there are times that she's just so strange - she looks at me like I'm not even there, like she doesn't know me. Her mind can be totally elsewhere, and I haven't got a clue what she's thinking about. Sometimes she talks to herself, like she's - I don't know - but I can't follow what she's saying, it's like her own language or something. She's been having nightmares, too. Bad ones. Sometimes it takes a candlemark or more for her to really wake up and be aware of her surroundings again." "Well, nightmares are something I do know about," offered Scully, thinking of Mulder and their first night in the Realm when they shared his nightmare. "Does she tell you what they're about?" She shook her head. "No. I don't know if she can't say what they're about, or if she just won't say." "You think she's deliberately not telling you?" Scully asked doubtfully. "I don't know. I really don't know. But she spends too much time alone, seeking out opportunities to withdraw, and puts herself into a kind of trance or something, and I feel so cut off from her. At night when she wakes up with the nightmares, she's screaming 'No, No!' and struggles wildly until she finally comes around. Then we ask her what the bad dream was, and she gets very quiet. Scully, it's strange - sometimes she acts like she's as old as the hills. She behaves more like - like Corvay - than a child of less than five summers! She gets very self-possessed and says that everything is all right now. That she will take care of everything and that we can go back to sleep." Aldara threw her hands up in the air. "I just don't know what to make of it." "Have you tried a healer? If you're afraid of some sort of...disquiet...of her mind, a healer might be able to help," suggested Scully hesitantly. "I know as a healer in my world, there are maladies which might explain Daanna's behavior." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and pushed her plate away, almost untouched. Absently, she twisted the ring that Andalor had given her around her finger. Its stone, normally a rich green and golden brown cat's eye, looked almost black. "Maybe. I think I've just been hoping that there really isn't a problem. But Daanna seems more distracted every day." Aldara's voice trailed off. "Also, I think I would want Corvay himself to see her, and I haven't really wanted to ask him - he seems so frail lately." Head pounding, Scully thought about the diminutive old elf. He was doing less and less healing lately. She knew what few others in the Realm did, that Corvay was seeing Kyla daily, not to teach but to receive healing treatments. She was worried about her mentor. He looked like he was losing weight from his already spare frame. "How old is Corvay, anyway?" Aldara shrugged. "I don't know - I don't think anybody does. He's just always been here. Even Reinald doesn't remember him as being anything but old. I don't know - maybe a couple hundred season-cycles?" "Two hundred...." Scully was amazed. As a healer, she could recognize the aging process, even retard it to a degree. But when she thought about it, she realized that she didn't have the faintest idea of the normal lifespans of any of the Realm beings. "Actually, you look like you need Corvay or Kyla yourself, Scully. Your hands are shaking and you keep rubbing your shoulder." "Yeah, it hurts like hell for some reason. I must have strained it when we broke up Shannon's little fight with Yurka yesterday. Why my hands are shaking I have no idea. I've tried to look into myself as a healer since I started feeling lousy. I don't know if it's because I'm not doing it right, or my concentration is poor, or I'm missing something because I'm not sure what I'm looking for, or what. I can't really detect anything wrong. I just know that I feel strange. If I didn't know better...." She was silent for some moments. "If you didn't know better, what?" Aldara prompted, looking anxiously at her friend. "Well, I know in my world when Mulder and I were separated by distance, after a while we would both start to feel ill. But those were huge distances, and the symptoms were milder, and appeared only after we were apart for several days." She rubbed the skin on her arms, trying to dispel the odd sensations there. "I started feeling tense and irritable when Mulder had been gone only a couple of candlemarks. And he's not gone far - it's only a bit over a day's ride. No distance at all, really, compared to our world. Our communication's been affected, too. It's not really even communication, it's more like vague sensations. I know I'm not concentrating well right now, so that might explain part of it. But from the images I was able to receive before it became nearly impossible, my guess is that something is up with Mulder, too. Aldara, I wonder - could these strange sensations actually have to do with our lifebond? Reinald said once that it might." "You know you should get it checked out. Let me go and bring back Kyla." "No! By the Goddess, Aldara, leave it alone!" Again, Scully controlled her temper only with effort. More softly, her voice shaking slightly, she said, "No, Aldara, I'll go there - tomorrow. I'd feel silly sending for her, this isn't an emergency. If my shoulder still feels bad in the morning, and if I'm still feeling out of sorts, I'll go see Kyla. Thank you for dinner, Aldara. See you tomorrow." She began walking to the door. "Scully, are you sure...Scully!" Aldara cried out. She sprang from her seat to catch her friend before she slumped to the floor. - - - - - Moments later, the only sounds that could be heard were the fading hoofbeats and clatter of the wagon. Dazed, the crowd began to get shakily to their feet and assess their injuries. Sensing a wriggling motion under him, Mulder began to roll, to free the priestess from what she undoubtedly found an uncomfortable position, both physically and personally. Agony seized his right shoulder and he bit his lip to keep from groaning. He completed the roll with difficulty and the priestess pulled herself to her feet. Clasping his arm, he lay on the cobblestones, his face white with pain under the streaks of dirt and sweat. Shit! A sprain for sure, possibly a separation, he thought with startling clarity. Been there, done that - and now I've gone and done it again. Scully's going to kill me, he told himself ruefully. Damn it! Suddenly, a scream was torn from the throat of an elderly female elf. "Evalto! Goddess save him! Evalto!" She was joined by another. "Aieee! And Klasti! Help! Someone find a healer! Quickly!" Two crumpled bodies lay motionless on the cobblestones, and from all over the square the cries of the outraged began to be heard. From out of the buzz of the crowd, one voice was raised. "Human filth!" The voice was thunderous, coming from so small a figure as the old elf. His face was dark with hatred and contempt as he jumped up on the monument to be seen. "Was it not enough that you burned down Anosi's farm? That you attacked him? Now you take advantage of our hospitality to shed more elf blood? No more!" The clenched fists and furious call to arms began to be taken up by others. "Death to the humans! Cleanse our village of the human scum!" "Kill them - kill them all!" "Remember what they did to Anosi - don't let them get away with it!" Then humans began to take up their own battlecries, as ringleaders emerged to whip the Cresscreek villagers into a frenzy of hate. "Kill the treacherous elves!" "Squash the pointy-eared little bastards!" Were these creatures never to accept the idiocy of their so- called cause? Clutching his shoulder, Mulder rolled to his feet as Urielle leapt past him to a stone bench. With all the strength she had left, she shouted, "NO! No, please, by the Goddess, don't do this! It was an accident!" But her desperate words were lost in the wave of violence, as humans and elves now scattered not for safety, but to grab the weapons that had been strewn all over the square by the rampaging horses. Mulder watched as she tried repeatedly to summon her powers to dispel some of the hatred. But the bloodlust was too strong. Her face draining of all color, she sank limply to the cobblestones of the square. Mulder ran over to her prostrate form and, grabbing her awkwardly around the waist with his left arm, moved her into the elders' cottage where she would be out of the fray. His ears registered Jourdain's vain calls for order. When he emerged from the structure, Jourdain was with his troops. They had maneuvered themselves between the advancing mobs and were now struggling fiercely to keep elf and human from each others' throats and not be killed in the process. He had had enough. The long, miserable ride. The separation from Scully. The vain efforts of the little priestess. All for nothing. All for these stupid, bloodthirsty creatures. "STOP!" The ground shook with the power of Mulder's voice and his aura flared with a blue-white heat. But despite the inhuman volume of his command, the lines of villagers continued to advance on each other, cutting into Jourdain's troops to reach their bloodsworn enemies. Scythes and hammers danced in the air, about to perform a grotesque ballet of death. Emotions of the populace at a fever pitch and control close to shattered, Urielle would not be able to help further. Suddenly, Mulder felt something snap. The tension and irritability yielded to a bone-deep anger at the hate, the waste, the bigotry, the stupidity of the creatures before him, ready to spill each others' blood. Centering himself, he gathered his powers together. Lights sparkled before his eyes and his ears were filled with a terrible roaring sound. Reaching deep within himself, he found a tiny diamond-bright speck of light. He could feel his thoughts coalesce into a single laser-potent beam and was lost in it, becoming both creator and created. In the cottage, Urielle stirred, hearing the shouts of the mob outside. She got to her feet and took some deep breaths to stop the room from spinning, then cautiously stepped outside the structure. In the deepening gloom thirty meters away she was horrified to see the mobs approaching each other, brandishing weapons and blind with bloodlust. Then, closer and to her right, she caught sight of Mulder, and was astounded. Like most others in the Realm, she knew of Mage Mulder by reputation as one of those chiefly responsible for saving their land from the Dark Creatures. She had heard that he was a powerful magician, and she had seen other Mages at work. But she never expected what was taking place just a short distance away. He stood stock still, a maelstrom of Mage-blue whirling about him. His eyes were half open, with only the whites showing. His face darkened by a scowl of concentration, his lips and cheeks twitched as though he were carrying on a conversation with someone only he could see. Slowly he raised his arms - his right stiffly, awkwardly - and his graceful hands began to fashion small, intricate movements. Between them suddenly appeared a tiny but brilliant point of light. The illumination cast diabolical shadows, transforming Mulder's usually mild features into something terrifying and unrecognizable. Surely, thought the priestess, surely anything that bright must burn like fire. The light became brighter still as it grew in size, finally forcing Urielle to look away or be blinded. Still Mulder's hands kept moving, as if shaping the terrible light like molten metal in an unearthly crucible. The sky darkened further and the blackness was split by forks of lightning as thunder rumbled, shaking the very earth. And when the thunder had ended, the earth continued to rumble, then to pitch, throwing the feuding elves and humans from their feet. With a horrendous cracking sound and then a roar, a split opened up between the cobblestones of the square and widened into a crevasse two meters wide, separating the two factions. Jourdain's men leapt back, as each successive rumble of thunder was answered by another deeper, more ominous rumble of the earth, and the fissure grew in length and breadth, cutting the courtyard in two. Even the warring villagers now stopped their frenzied efforts to join in battle to look open-mouthed in awe at what was happening around them. The storm intensified as a fierce wind whipped into little maelstroms, tearing at their clothes, ripping their weapons from their fists. Blue sparks popped like the sound of machine gun fire around Mulder's body. Suddenly, the brilliance between his hands grew a thousandfold against the black sky. With an abrupt motion, he threw his arms high above his head, heaving the light from his hands to hover twenty meters in the air over the combatants, where it burst into an enormous fireball. Not one of Mulder "recreational" balls of blue light, this was an inferno, huge, hot and lethal, suspended by his powers over the battling village. The crowd instinctively shrank back from the heat of it, gasping as they cringed in like terror. Still the storm went on, now continuous lightning and rolling thunder, the wind deafening the assemblage, the fireball casting a hideous illumination over the cowering beings and the crevasse down the center of the square. Finally, when it seemed that the sound could get no more terrible, Mulder made a quick motion, extending his arms in front of him. There was a final deafening crash, followed by dead silence except for the crackle of the flames suspended above the crowd. Tentatively, Urielle approached Mulder. His eyes still appeared to be rolled back in his head. His arms, though shaking from the effort, were held out stiffly, his long fingers curved like talons. He was deathly pale, so much so that the priestess anxiously reached out a hand to touch his face. Reflexively, she yanked it back, examining her fingers for burns, so hot was his flesh. He gave no outward indication that he was aware of her presence. Gazing wonderingly from him to the ball of flame over their heads, she sensed a sort of mental nudge. Twice more she felt the sensation, each nudge firmer, more urgent than the last, before finally she understood. "You wish me to speak to them!" she whispered, awed. Automatically she looked to him for some sort of confirmation, and noted with alarm that he seemed to be straining harder to maintain his spell. Quickly she climbed once more up to the base of the monument, this time unassisted except by her desire to do his bidding before he was unable to hold the spell any longer. "People of Fawnleaf and Cresscreek! See how you are held in thrall, for you have broken your bond of faith with your Goddess and with your brothers. No Mage of our world can work such wonders, but with the help of the Goddess. She works through Mage Mulder now to bring you this message. Your hate is an affront to her, and your violence brings her great sorrow. Know you from this time onward - your war is anathema to her and she is losing her loving patience. If you turn from her love and protection, you risk unimaginable terrors - horrors that make today appear as a gentle summer rain. Accept her love, and love each other, lest you abandon yourselves to those horrors from which you will not escape!" She cast a quick glance at Mulder. Tears mingled with rivulets of sweat running down his cheeks, and he was trembling violently now. "Good people - the Goddess will be watching you. Go now in peace. Act as She would act and prosper in Her love!" Silently, she added her own prayers. She was startled by a hand on her arm and her eyes flew open. Jourdain assisted Urielle down from the monument. "Get back into the cottage, priestess. With the Goddess's help, they'll heed your words, but just in case - " With a silent orange flash, the fireball disappeared. Seconds later, edges of the fissure in the center of the square began to move closer together until with a final grating noise, the rift was sealed. Slowly, the humans and elves in the square began to regain the use of their limbs and voices. Jourdain watched carefully, finally satisfied that the weapons were staying on the ground. Some of the former adversaries were shamefacedly hugging or grasping each other's forearms in a universal gesture of peace. Others were silently gathering their families and going back to their homes. Finally, a healer was attending the gravely injured of both species. Grieving family members surrounded the bloody, twisted bodies of Evalto and Klasti, but no cries for vengeance were uttered. With a slight gesture he signaled to his men to help where they could and stay alert for trouble. Then he turned his attention to Mulder. The Mage stood, shoulders shaking, panting and gasping for air. As if in slow motion, his knees began to crumple, and Jourdain rushed to his friend's side in time to lower him gently to the ground. The heat emitted from Mulder's body frightened him, and he called to the healer, who quickly made his way over to where the Mage lay. "No, not yet," gasped Mulder hoarsely, holding the healer at bay. "Is everything all right, has the fighting stopped?" "Yes, Mage. It appears you are in the business of saving us from ourselves as well as from our enemies." Jourdain took a corner of his tunic and gently wiped the sweat and grime from Mulder's face. "You are burning up, my friend. Are you ill?" Weakly, Mulder shook his head. He was prevented from having to speak by Urielle. "No, Captain, I think it results from his magic - there was no sign of it before. But he hurt his shoulder when he saved me from being run down in the square. And Goddess knows what casting that spell has done to him." While the healer finally began to probe, she held a beastskin of water to Mulder's lips and he drank from it gratefully. Finally, choking a little, he relaxed his head back into Jourdain's arms. He began to feel comfortably drowsy, and after a time the pain in his shoulder abated somewhat. The middle-aged elf finished his ministrations and began to speak. "Captain, I am Shasto, healer of Fawnleaf. The Mage has sprained his shoulder. There is a lot of bruising and swelling, and I have begun the healing process there. But his fever and other ills - I am unfamiliar with their cause and am at a loss to explain them. I have tried to make him more comfortable, but to effect any real cure I would have to find the cause of his malady. And as to discovering the cause...." He shook his head helplessly. "I've never seen anything like it. If it has something to do with his powers, I fear there is little else I can do for him." Jourdain bowed gratefully. "Thank you, Healer. We appreciate all that you have done." He felt Mulder tugging at his arm. He looked down and saw his friend's hazel eyes looking at him with something like pleading. Jourdain bent low to hear the words Mulder could barely utter. "Sc-Scully," he whispered. "Take me home to Scully." He stayed conscious just long enough to see the old warrior nod. End of Chapter Three THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Four The vulture circled lazily at treetop level above the swamp. While it was not feeling the desperate gnawing of hunger in its belly, neither would it pass up the opportunity to feed if one presented itself. Dipping its wings slightly, it soared on a current of air that took it to the darkest, dankest part of the swamp, attracted by the scent of death that always seemed to emanate from there. It spotted a small animal, several days lifeless, lying under some plants and swooped down to investigate further. Landing on the boggy ground, it eyed its reeking meal suspiciously. Instinctively it felt uneasy and peered around, hearing the slither of serpents nearby. A shriek of bone-deep terror shattered the preternatural quiet. The vulture's huge black wings launched it skyward, the carrion clutched firmly in its talons, as it departed to find a less eerie place to dine. A few hundred meters away in the sunless swamp a heavy overgrowth of trees, vines, and rotting plant life effectively concealed a palace of sorts. It was from there that the scream had come. Covered as it was by the overabundant swamp vegetation, the structure beneath would never be observed by a passerby. Not that there would be a passerby. Indeed, this part of Witch Tears Swamp was not burdened with travelers - not for long, anyway. Most tended to believe the tales of horror associated with the area and avoided it as they would their own death. The source of the tales, an impressive castle of blackest stone, lay submerged beneath the plant life like a waterbeast awaiting its prey. There was no road, no path. The few inhabitants of the castle dwelled, worked and died there. It was rare that visitors came, and none left. The most recent guest had been led weeping to his room after his interview. There were no cells. Iron bars were superfluous. The Black Mage always knew where everyone was and what everyone was doing in the castle. Drellor realized without being told that any attempt to escape would be answered with a hideous nightmare not of his making. Still shaking from the experience of the meeting, he was anxious to avoid a closer, more protracted, infinitely more painful encounter. Drellor considered what he had seen of the castle so far. He had been too terrified, too much in shock to notice much of anything, other than the Mage's majestic and evil presence. Torches had hissed and spluttered in sconces along the weeping walls of the noisome corridors he had been escorted through, and two now dimly illuminated his quarters. His chamber was spacious and furnished grandly, even luxuriously. It was dark, the windows so overgrown with vegetation that not a single candle's worth of light could enter. Were it not for the walls covered in mold, mildew and other slime, the accommodations would be fit for a king. The walls, the humidity and the pervasive stench of the castle notwithstanding, the room still represented a distinct improvement over his cell in the dungeons of Fairwoods Keep. Much more in keeping with a person of his station in life. Even the minions here had treated him with respect. Drellor pulled himself up to his full, unimpressive height. Now these were people who recognized his rank and were ready to give him the treatment he deserved as his birthright. Had his brother not been king? Were it not for an accident of birth - and a poor choice of associates - would he not have ruled Fairwoods Domain? For perhaps the thousandth time he bitterly thought of the boy king and his advisor, Reinald. Someday, he thought grimly. Someday. Tearing himself from his musings, he explored his room. His wardrobe had been thoughtfully stocked with elegant clothing suitable for a person of his rank, and a servant came in with water and towels with which to wash. Yes, for now this place would do quite nicely, if he played his cards right. He sat on the bed with its fine, somewhat damp covers and tried to force his mind to come up with some sort of a plan. He certainly didn't trust the Evil One who had brought him here. Drellor was well aware that at the moment he was a pawn, to be used and discarded. What he needed to do was find a way to make himself indispensable, to insure his life. He was sure of one thing, and one thing only. He would prolong his life any way he could until an opportunity presented itself. An opportunity for profit - or revenge. - - - High above Drellor's quarters, a tower room looked out at the treetops. It was a room almost devoid of light, even the hearth throwing little warmth or illumination on the scene. The odor of old blood was overpowering, and the bubbling cauldrons set near the fire did nothing but add to the nauseating stench. On a table sat small bowls and animal skin bags, filled with the makings for potions and poisons. The walls, dimly seen through the gloom, were covered with murals: sick, twisted pictures depicting the most vile and hideous of acts. There was an atmosphere of terror and of palpable evil which seemed to suck out the very oxygen and leave the room unfit for any sort of lifeform. Yet there was One who flourished here. That person, the room's sole occupant, was concerned less with the amenities of the chamber than with the hematite sphere she gazed into. Not a crystal ball, the sphere did not project scenes like an Oracle Cloud. Rather, it helped to magnify and channel energies into a sixth sense, vestigial in all but the most powerful Mages. Using this sense with the sphere, images would appear to the mind, rather than to the eye. The Evil One sat leaning forward in the high-backed wooden chair, feet propped up on a footstool. The ornate carvings which covered both pieces of furniture took their theme from the murals on the walls and were profane in the extreme. The sphere rested lightly in the palms of her hands, the long fingers with their blood-red nails curved over the cold orb. Peering into it, she sensed with anticipation two different groups of people in a village square, their hatred carrying an aroma so delicious she could almost taste it. She looked on, eagerly awaiting the blood spill that must certainly follow. A low voice intruded and her brows furrowed in annoyance. She looked on in increasing anger as the words went on. "Bitch!" she spat out contemptuously. Why could those damned priestesses never mind their own business? Slamming the orb down in its stand on a nearby table, she paced the room, the black cape lined with Mage-blue billowing out behind her, then swirling around her ankles as she turned. Her red lips were curled into a sneer as she contemplated this wrinkle in her plans, for she was determined that it should be no more than that. Suddenly, she stopped, picked up the sphere again and seated herself. A few moments concentration had her back in the village square. She looked around for a likely mark. Forget the priestess. While the irony appealed greatly to her, the little elf was too engrossed in her own words and entrenched in her beliefs to succumb quickly enough. She eyed the captain dismissively. Too controlled and not enough imagination for her to work with - military men never worked well for this kind of spell. Her gaze moved onward. Now this - this could be interesting. She considered the tall man in the Mage-cape. Who was this? Certainly no one known to her. She was acquainted with all the Mages born of the Realm, or had thought so. Eyes narrowing, she looked closer, assessing this new Mage and trying to come to an idea of his strength. She sensed a powerful pure blue aura that stung her eyes, and didn't know which disturbed her more - its power or its purity. Definitely a force to contend with - or perhaps contend FOR, she thought with a slight upturning of her lips. But not now, not now. She filed away his aura for future reference, imprinting it on her mind. Turning from the Mage, she looked quickly over the crowd, then impatiently gave up looking for a human or elf to carry her message. Their hatred had faded, had become weaker, dilute. Without the emotion to work with, it would take her too long for what she had planned. Instead she seized on a team of horses, willing them to sense a pack of soul-eaters. Carefully, deliberately, she imparted the image to the steeds - ferocious hungry soul-eaters stalking them, now surrounding them on three sides. Saliva dripping from their enormous fangs - fangs that would soon sink through their skin, tear at their flesh, drip with their blood. Getting closer and closer now, their fetid breath filling the air they inhaled. And about to cut off their only avenue of escape.... A low cackle of delighted laughter started deep in her throat and broke from her lips as she sensed the terrified horses and the wagon careening through the square spreading death, destruction and best of all, as she now observed, hatred. Hatred that would go on creating more death and destruction. "You're out of your depth, priestess," she hissed. "Go back to your forest." Her moment was only slightly spoiled by the fact that the priestess was not crushed by the runaway wagon. The hate and the fear - they were like meat and wine to her. And soon there would be plenty of blood on which to feast. This was what she craved - the chance to gorge on these emotions and the blood that was produced by them. Again, her face lit up in anticipation of the blood that would now surely splash on the memorial to the fallen and flow between the cobblestones of the square. She smiled, her lips drawn back ferally from white teeth. Ah, life could be so satisfying, sometimes. Suddenly she hissed, inhaling sharply as she felt a stabbing pain deep in her chest. Her hands slipped, juggling the sphere. With an effort, she regained control. Panting lightly, she tried to quell the pain but couldn't. What was happening to her? She should be feasting on the bloodshed, but instead this agony was tearing her apart! An oily sweat broke out on her brow. Only once before had she felt such pain, but that was when.... No, that was impossible, that pain was only associated with.... Angrily she shook her head. No, it couldn't be happening. He would fail. He MUST fail. The physical pain and the pain of disappointment would be too much to bear. He was too youthful. He could not possibly have the power, the character, the strength, and the knowledge to do this. Tensely she watched as the young man cast his spell with a sureness, a skill present in only the most powerful Mages. Barely breathing, she sensed it all. The thunder and lightning. The creation of the huge fireball. The cleaving of the very earth in two! How did he manage that? Surely, that was one of the Lost Powers, unknown in living memory! She sensed the terror and paralysis of the mobs, the priestess's exhortation. And as she watched, her eyes grew wide. Finally, with the young Mage's collapse, the pain in her chest was gone. But deprived of her bloodfeast, the pain of her dashed plans was sharper than her physical discomfort had been. All faded to smoke as, spent, she slumped back in her chair, letting the sphere roll from her hands unheeded to rest in her lap. A force to contend with. Indeed. - - - - - "OPEN THE GATES!!!" Jourdain cried at the top of his lungs, racing ahead of his men towards the castle gates. His horse was sweating, beads of moisture dripping across its skin. Jourdain's own lungs stung with the effort to draw air, his entire body aching from the long day's ride. While he kept himself in shape, it had been years since he had been subjected to such demands on his physical strength. But with Mage Mulder an unconscious burden in the litter borne aloft between four of the soldiers, his own weariness was of little concern. Guards scurried along the castle wall, the edges of their shouts pricking at Jourdain's wind-burned ears as he drew in closer to the still-barred gate. Unwilling to slow down, he urged his horse forward, the gasp of relief stinging his throat as he saw the massive doors begin to slide open. Praying for one last surge of energy from his exhausted steed, he aimed for that opening and found it, racing into the courtyard at breakneck speed. His horse reared up as he yanked hard on the reins, pulling up to a stop. Two young soldiers were there to grab the bridle and hold the excited animal still while Jourdain slid roughly to the ground. He barely stifled the groan which rose in his throat as his muscles complained vigorously. "I'm getting too old for this!" he muttered to himself, before turning to issue a rapid-fire series of commands. Already, his troop was clearing the gate, carrying the still form of the wounded Mage between them like a trophy. "Easy!" Jourdain ordered, fiercely, as they began to set the litter down on the ground. But Mulder was unresponsive, unmoving, even when an irritable horse shied too far to one side, almost tumbling him off one side of the make-shift litter. When they finally got him settled, Jourdain knelt down beside his senseless friend and reached out with callused hands to lift up the dark head and cradle it gently. "Where is that twice-cursed healer!" Jourdain bit the words out through clenched teeth, violent emotional threatening to break through his normally implacable exterior. "Right here, Captain," Kyla told him patiently, coming to a crouch on the other side of Mulder's body. Her flaxen hair was uncharacteristically loose, flowing around her large-boned body in golden waves. She tossed it out of her face with unconcealed annoyance, then stretched out her hands to touch Mulder's forehead. Watching her enter the Healing Trance, Jourdain belatedly realized that she must have been called from her bed to help Mulder, and he felt a brief stab of remorse for having insulted her, however accidental it may have been. He didn't waste time with an apology now, as such things could wait until the emergency was over, but the honorable man stored away the debt to be paid later. Kyla crooned for a moment longer, then broke off abruptly. Jourdain stared at her in surprise, and she met his gaze with eyes that were dilated with shock and uncertainty. "What is it?" he demanded, panic striking hard within his breast. She merely shook her head. "I don't know." She frowned, her jaw tight with frustration. She spread her hands wide, and echoed her own words. "I don't know!" "Bring him inside!" That instruction came in a high- pitched voice that faltered on the last syllable, yet never lost its imperative. Both soldier and healer turned in surprise to see the tiny, aged figure of the Court Healer, Corvay, standing before them. He pointed a once delicate, but now gnarled and twisted hand at them. "There is no time to waste! You must bring him to his bondmate at once!" Jourdain took barely another second to make his decision. Sweeping down to scoop Mulder's unconscious body into his massive arms, he then struggled to reach his feet. Before he could make it half-way, Kyla moved to assist him, slipping her arms beneath his to help hold Mulder aloft. Together, they raised him upwards and carried him across the yard and into the castle. Aldara was waiting for them at the door to Scully and Mulder's room. Her thin, sharply-boned face was drawn and anguished, the usually bright color in her cheeks drained to a pale rose. Her vivid emerald eyes seemed even larger than normal, filling her entire face, and her expression was one of barely restrained panic. "Quickly!" she urged, holding the door wide while her husband and Kyla carried Mulder across the threshold and into the warm, brightly lit room. Shifting sideways, they brought Mulder to the huge bed and gently deposited him onto one side. Jourdain took a moment to straighten Mulder's long limbs, only afterwards noticing the small figure tucked beneath the heavy sheets on the other side of the bed. "Dear Goddess," he moaned, turning to meet his wife's sorrowful eyes. "What happened?" Aldara shook her head, sending her mane of ebony curls tumbling across her shoulders with the motion. "I wish I knew. One moment we were talking, the next, she just fell to the ground. She has not woken since, and that was last evening." Jourdain swallowed, trying to wet his suddenly parched throat. He had been relying on Scully to heal her bondmate. But if she was ill as well.... "The only guess I can make," Kyla said, looking abruptly smaller than her size as she stood helplessly at the bedside, "is that when one of them was harmed, the other was also affected." Jourdain nodded, running a broad hand through his graying hair. "I've seen Mage Mulder do some amazing things over the years, but this... It was awe-inspiring, frightening. So much power flowing through him at once, it still makes me shudder to think of it. He seemed to be able to control it, but it must have weakened him too much." Kyla sighed, again brushing long strands of hair from her eyes. "He must have...somehow...taken strength from her. Or perhaps, she simply shared his reaction. Such things have happened between lifebonded couples before, but never to this extent. But then, never have we seen a lifebonded Mage before either. The combination is unknown. I have no knowledge or experience to draw upon." "There's got to be something you can do!" Jourdain protested. "Or what about Corvay? He seemed certain that Mulder should be brought in here." "They must be together," Corvay answered for himself, appearing like a wraith in the doorway. His skin was like faded parchment, his burning eyes the only sign of life in his aged body. "Their bond is their greatest strength, and it alone can bring them healing. The separation has weakened them, stretched their life- force too thin across the distance." A low moan from the bed behind them stole away the ancient healer's audience, as all eyes flew to the man and woman asleep on the bed. Together, they watched with astonished eyes, as Mulder turned over, reaching out a trembling hand to touch Scully's shoulder. The contact seemed electric, even to the observers, creating a bright blue flare of light from the Mage's previously dull sapphire ring. Scully moaned in response, shifting, wriggling, until she was able to nestle herself against her partner's chest. Never once did she open her eyes. Mulder, too, appeared to move as one possessed, unaware, yet certain - drawing closer in around Scully. It was as though some invisible force drew them together, pushed at their unconscious limbs, bringing them closer until they were folded up in each other's arms. - - - - - Scully tensed as she awoke, half-expecting the throbbing behind her eyes to start once again. Tentatively, she stretched and her hand encountered the warm smooth silk of skin not her own, and her eyes opened. She snuggled closer into that welcoming warmth, then she bolted up to a seated position. Mulder lay beside her, deeply asleep. She studied him as he breathed evenly, a slight frown furrowing his brow. His eyes darted in REM sleep but his generous lips remained relaxed and slightly parted. Scully instinctively leaned over to kiss his forehead, the physical proximity bringing her in closer contact with his mind and, inadvertently, with the dream he was having. Blushing slightly, she left his mind and added an item to the list of things she wanted to experience - soon. Just when she thought they had done it all - but then, Mulder was full of surprises. But right now, there were deeper questions to be answered. The last thing she remembered was talking with Aldara after Mulder had left. She frowned, biting at her lower lip, even as she curled up against his side. She remembered the conversation clearly, as well as a sense of irritable unease, which seemed now to have fled her completely. Instead, she felt a remarkable sense of peace and serenity, so strong that it held back the immediate panic created by her knowledge that something had happened to her which she did not remember. There was a sense of motion behind her, and she turned over, only to find herself staring into Aldara's grinning face. "Hi," Scully offered, returning a small smile of her own. She sobered quickly, as did her friend, who was perched on the top of the ladder used by the smaller Realm residents to climb into the favored high beds. Scully gestured that she was ready to get up, and Aldara got down quickly, relocating to the chairs set in front of the fireplace, even now sparkling with a roaring fire. Scully lingered, however, for a long moment, unwilling to go even a few feet away from her sleeping lover. She brushed the long dark bangs off of his temples, then drew a tender finger across his full lips. Finally, she forced herself up and away, clambering carefully down to join Aldara in front of the fire. "What happened?" Scully asked, running her hands through the bright red tangle of her hair. Aldara eyed the flame- colored tresses with long-familiar envy, then spoke carefully. "What do you remember?" Scully sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Not much past our dinner last night." Aldara shook her head, sending ripples through her own dark curls. "I'm afraid that was not last night but the night before that. You've slept for almost two days." "What?" Scully was shocked, her blue eyes widening. Aldara grimly nodded. "You just fell over without warning. I was terrified, especially when Kyla could not find a reason. If that weren't bad enough, Reinald reported a few hours later that Jourdain was rushing Mulder back here from Fawnleaf as quickly as they could ride. They had settled the situation there as best as can be for the present, but the fighting had been serious enough to force Mulder to expend too much power in order to gain control - and that after he had already been wounded trying to protect the priestess, Urielle." "Wounded?" Scully got to her feet and raced back to the bed. Her initial exam found Mulder sound - and healthily - asleep, the only 'wrongness' in his body's aura centered on his shoulder. It had been helped along already, she noticed, but the healing was still incomplete. With a little effort, she gathered her thoughts and mental focus, entering his body to check on the progress his shoulder was making. She urged the white cells to increase in speed and number and found a few tiny capillaries to cauterize before the extensive bruising worsened. She sensed his sleep becoming lighter and as she exited his body found him smiling drowsily at her. He bent his head slightly to bring their lips in contact, and she felt her body respond to him as it always did. A tickle of electricity stung her mouth where it contacted his, then worked its way down her spine to pool in her groin. Sighing into his throat, she eased herself down into his open and welcoming arms, pressing her body against the solid length of his. Twining the fingers of her right hand into the thick dark silk of his hair, she kissed him long and deep, feeling the muscles of his body tense and flow beneath her. A musical laugh behind them broke the moment, and Scully buried her face into Mulder's neck, her cheeks burning. Damn, she'd done it again. An intensely private person, she hated displaying her emotions publicly, and yet here she was, for the second time in barely more days, crawling all over her lover in full view of other people. Mulder for his part, simply returned Aldara's chuckle, winking at her over Scully's fiery head. He squeezed Scully once, then released, biting down a groan as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. Scully responded instantly, restraining him firmly, while she adjusted the pillows, then guiding him upwards slowly into a position that would not further stress his mending shoulder. He closed his other hand over the sore joint, and gave her a heart- wrenching wounded look. All set to give him a pre-memorized lecture on getting himself hurt - AGAIN - Scully found herself unable to avoid laughing at him. Tousling his bangs, she grinned at him. "It's not THAT bad, Mulder. By tomorrow you shouldn't feel it at all." He pouted at her, thrusting out that full lower lip, then his mouth and his entire expression sombered. Aldara had perched herself on the edge of the 4-foot-high bed, her short legs dangling off the edge, while Scully had seated herself beside him, cross- legged. He gazed from one to the other, then sighed and shoved the dark strands of hair out of his eyes, and asked the inevitable question. "All right, what happened?" Aldara filled him in much as she had Scully with the spare news she had. "Jourdain and Reinald can tell you the rest, they both want to see you as soon as you feel up to it," she finished. Mulder nodded grimly. "Tell them I'll meet them in Reinald's work room ... umm...this afternoon?" Aldara smiled. "Make that tonight. I'll tell Reinald to expect you for dinner. In the meantime, I'm sure you two have a lot to TALK about." Accompanied by the lilting chime of her laughter and a well-aimed pillow-toss from Scully, Aldara scrambled down the ladder and out of the room. After the door had shut behind the small half-elf, Scully uncrossed her legs, and turned to sit facing Mulder, leaning against his knees. He reached out to take her hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for a brief kiss. She stroked his jaw with a light fingertip, then let her hand fall against his chest. "Mulder, I'm worried." He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him quickly. //Let me finish.\\ He answered with a wave of emotion, love and support tinged with his own anxiety. She tilted her head to the side, then returned to verbal speech. The mind-speech between them had become a familiar, even comfortable form of communication, yet they still inevitably turned to audible conversation when they had something serious to discuss. Somehow putting the thoughts into words functioned to clarify and focus their thoughts, often leading them to possible solutions "For months now, whenever I've been apart from you I've felt uneasy, even getting physically ill if we're too far apart for too long. But it's never gone past a slight case of the flu until now. It's getting worse, Mulder. When you left for Fawnleaf, I started feeling itchy in less than a couple of candlemarks. You weren't even that far away, but I felt ready to start climbing the walls. And it wasn't the weakness that I felt in our world. This was more like, well, like a raging case of PMS." His eyes twinkled, but before he could say a word, she stung his mind. //Don't even THINK it, Mulder!\\ Mulder sent her a wave of aggrieved innocence, and then the warmth of his amusement. //Who me?\\ Then his mind-touch settled into rueful understanding. "Me too, actually. By the time we settled for the night, I was snapping at everyone. The slightest inconvenience seemed like a major burden, and I simply couldn't sit still. I'm sure I drove everyone crazy! I mean, you know me, Scully, I'm a raging insomniac at the best of times." Abruptly, he flashed a brilliant toothy grin at her, "Well, with certain exceptions. But this was awful. I tossed and turned all night long; didn't get any sleep at all. So by the time we got to Fawnleaf I was irritable and angry at everyone. I almost singed those arrogant elves, just for a minor rudeness. And when fighting broke out...I simply exploded." A frown darkened his usually pleasant features, the strong bone structure hardening into a forbidding sculpture. "This power of mine...." He spread out his hands between them, letting his power swell into a vivid blue flame which roiled and sparked across his long, elegant fingers. "Maybe I've never taken it quite seriously enough. Last time we were here, there was so much to learn so quickly, and then I just had to do what needed to be done. There was never time to think about it. And when we returned to our world, even though I could still feel some small sparks of the ability, it was so faint and hard to focus, that it didn't quite seem real. But now, Scully, I'm beginning to be a little frightened by it. I could have hurt someone, or worse, just because I was annoyed about not having you at my side." //Oh Mulder, you wouldn't have!\\ Her love and understanding washed over him, even as her sapphire eyes darkened. "Mulder, you'd never hurt anyone unless it was absolutely necessary." "God, I hope not," Mulder replied. "But I'm not so certain that I know how to judge my own strength. Reinald and Tarnor have had years of practice maintaining control. Mages are trained here almost from the moment they are born to keep from lashing out in anger or by accident. I've only had a fraction of that training, yet I seem to have more power running through me than I can begin to comprehend. I'm scared by it, Scully. I'm afraid I'm going to lose control." "Mulder...." She took hold of his hands, a small part of her mind marveling at the blue flame as it coursed upwards from his fingers over hers, bathing her arms in a gentle heat. "You have to believe in yourself. You're stronger than you think you are, and you're not alone. I'm always with you, and you've got Reinald and Tarnor to help you learn how to handle it. Have you talked to Reinald about this?" Mulder banished the blue flame with a quick unspoken command, then he shook his head with some embarrassment. "No, not really. We spend a lot of time working on my shielding and focus, and he often talks of how important it is to stay in control, but I didn't want to worry him. He's got so much else to deal with right now." "I don't think he'd mind sparing you the time," Scully told him. "He cares about you a lot and if anyone can understand your concerns, it would be Reinald. Actually, I think we should both talk to him. I'm more concerned about the problems we're having with being separated than about your blasting some obnoxious Dordinal guard because he looked at you the wrong way." Mulder smiled ruefully, appreciatively at her. "Maybe...though it's probably a good thing a few of the Bureau idiots didn't fall into the Realm with us. I could think of a couple that I wouldn't mind turning into toads just for the sheer pleasure of it!" Scully laughed, delighted to see his irrepressible sense of humor reassert itself. She shook her head at him, sending bright ripples through her hair as she moved. "Even so, Mulder, we've got a serious problem if we can't be apart for a few hours, much less overnight, without losing our ability to function rationally." "You're right," he said, sighing. "We can bring it up tonight. Maybe we ought to send Corvay an invite, and the Professor as well. He's been making a pretty good study of magic lately, maybe he'll have a new angle on things." "I'll take any idea that works. Not that I mind needing to stay close to you...." Scully's smile could have warmed the room on its own, making the fire sparking behind its screen pale in comparison. Mulder felt his groin tense in response. //I can't say I mind that much myself,\\ he mind-spoke to her, the words colored by the heat of his passion. All conversation fled them for a few long moments, as he leaned forward to kiss her, letting his lips linger against the sweetness of hers, reveling in the soft perfume of her skin pressed so close to his own. When they finally came up for air, he stroked her hair, turning to stare up at the small window leaking bright sunshine into the room. "What time is it, anyway?" Both knew he was speaking in approximate terms. The Realm had no way to measure time precisely, and indeed, saw no need to do so. "Probably close to noon I'd guess, from what Aldara said," Scully responded. She looked at him with concern. "How do you feel? Are you hungry?" "Fine. And more thirsty than hungry, I think. My shoulder's still sore. But I'm just very happy to be here." He circled his arms around her and held her as close as his aching limbs would permit. "Think you feel strong enough to hear what your halla has been up to?" Scully asked with a mischievous grin. Mulder groaned. "Shannon? What now?" Scully smiled to herself. Mulder liked to pretend that being Shannon's taabsut brought one trial after another. She knew this to be a good-natured fiction - the two were extremely close and had a warm, trusting relationship. She told him about Shannon's fight with Yurka, how it had gotten out of hand, and how the teen had used magic when she felt herself cornered. "Magic? Are you sure?" "Oh, yeah, it was magic all right. And I swear it was completely inadvertent, Mulder. She seemed as surprised as anyone. And if so...." "If so, we have a problem," he finished for her. "She needs to be trained - before she hurts herself or someone else." Scully nodded. "She's also been seeing a lot of Andalor lately." "You're afraid she might use magic on him?" he asked incredulously. "Well, maybe less that kind of magic," she sighed, "and more the usual kind that occurs between boys and girls of that age." "Or maybe even our age?" Mulder murmured. He cupped her breast and kneaded it lightly as his lips grazed her neck. She arched her back slightly to increase the contact between her flesh and his and a soft gasp escaped her lips. //I love you.\\ Neither could tell whose thought it was, where it had originated, but it didn't matter because they shared it. His fingertips moved across her nipple, barely brushing it until she was wild from want. He shut out her thoughts, her need, before finally taking the aching tip into his mouth. Scully moaned gently as first his tongue laved and then his teeth softly nipped at the sensitive bud. //Oh, God Mulder, that's good. That's so good.\\ //You did miss me, didn't you?\\ He smiled impishly, his fingers replacing his lips, which now claimed hers. Her mouth opened to him eagerly, her tongue craving the taste of him, her skin craving the feel of him. She slid a hand under the coverlet to stroke his chest and mirror what his fingers were doing to her nipples. //On the other hand, if this is the greeting I'm going to get after I've gone away, maybe I should do so more often. A little irritability is a small price to pay.\\ he thought playfully. In an instant, Scully had rolled on top of him in response and sat astride his hips. //You're not going anywhere for a while.\\ Mulder loved this, enjoying their passion, especially the occasions when Scully took the lead, directing their lovemaking. Their bond ensured their mutual pleasure, and he exulted in watching his beautiful bondmate lose herself in their loving, her eyes grow smoky dark with arousal and passion for only him. //And what is your pleasure, milady?\\ thought Mulder, his eyes reflecting laughter and love. Before she remembered to shield, her mind drifted back to the dream he had been enjoying just before he woke up. Suddenly aware that she was not alone in her mind, her ivory skin reddened as his eyebrows crawled up his forehead. "I - I really didn't mean to intrude...but I caught a little bit of your dream and I was...it looked...well, I've never done anything like that before and...it kinda looked...interesting...." She trailed off and looked down at him, almost afraid of his reaction. //Why, Scully, I had no idea...are you sure?\\ His face was lit with love and amusement and surprise. He doubted that she would ever stop surprising him. And he was certain that she would always inspire the physical need for her that was overwhelming him right now. Almost shyly, she nodded, more than aware of his body's reaction to her suggestion. "Is it okay?" "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah, it's more than okay." He pulled her down to meet his mouth. "Let the games begin." End of Chapter Four THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Five Once food had been set in front of him, Mulder quickly realized that he was far more ravenous than he had thought. Waiting politely for everyone to be served felt like sheer torture, and he had to struggle to keep from literally shoving the savory stew into his mouth. The rich, fluffy bread helped ease the first pangs of hunger, but he still managed to tackle three full helpings of the beef and vegetable laden main dish. //Hungry?\\ Scully sent to him on the wings of her amusement. He made a face at her, without slowing down. //Yes.\\ He responded unrepentedly. //Magic use does that....though,\\ he thought with a mental chuckle while eyeing her appreciatively across the table. //Certain other exertions could also be responsible.\\ She merely grinned at him, before taking another full bite of the still-warm bread. Actually, she thought ruefully, looking down at the bare remains of her second bowl of stew, he had a point. Of course, it could have been his hunger leaching to her, but still...given the way she was eating, it was good a thing she got so much exercise on a regular basis. Setting down her spoon firmly, she picked up her goblet of wine and turned to listen to the conversation raging between Reinald, the Professor and Corvay as to the physical nature of magic. The Professor's technical terms, grounded in earth-style physics tended to be somewhat incomprehensible to the two Realm elders, but Scully was quickly able to seize the concepts and was soon absorbed in the conversation. It suited her logical, precise mind to see this originally unfathomable force broken down into terms she could understand and accept. Perhaps Mulder had been right when he had told her, so long ago, that maybe magic was simply another natural force, like electricity and gravity, that could be studied, understood and quantified in a rational manner. In any case, she was glad to be in this company, drawing strength and comfort from it. She was especially happy to see her old mentor. Corvay looked pale and shrunken, yet his eyes gleamed brightly with the force of his personality. Mulder followed along silently, still munching on another chunk of bread, with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. His hunger sated, he was suffused with a sense of well-being. He had his Scully at his side, the firelight dancing on her bright auburn hair, his friends, and his health. Add in a full stomach and the afterglow of a serious bout of lovemaking, and nearly everything was right with his world. Leaning back in his chair, his attention wandered, his eyes drifting over towards his other four dinner companions. Jourdain was looking distinctly bored, though containing his frustration with natural politeness and stolid calm. Every so often, his blue eyes would wander from the rapidly gesticulating Professor or Royal Mage to his wife's tiny, curvaceous form, and his entire expression would lighten. Mulder smiled to himself at one such glance, then let his own gaze move over to the two teenagers deep in their own private conversation. Andalor grinned at one of Shannon's remarks, then leaned forward to respond, his violet eyes brilliant with humor. Shannon groaned loudly at his words, tossing her napkin at him, though not without a peal of laughter. Mulder regarded them thoughtfully, his own instinctive reaction to their obviously growing attachment one of approval and understanding. However, he was also well aware of the complications caused by Andalor's position as King of Fairwood Demesne. Royalty, especially young kings, rarely got a chance to marry for love. Instead the choice often had to be made out of duty and necessity - cementing an alliance or forestalling a rebellion. He wanted nothing more than happiness for both Shannon and Andalor, but he was afraid they might end up hurt. Unaware of Mulder's concerns, his ward and the young king quickly tired of the increasingly fervent discussion of magical theory that held the rest of the table in its thrall. Of course, when Andalor got to his feet in preparation for leaving, everyone else did so as well. The boy smiled at his family and friends, waving at them to retake their seats. When everyone had, he apologized, and excused himself and Shannon, saying they were planning to take a walk and then retire for the evening. Mulder could see Reinald about to utter a protest about Andalor wandering off alone with Shannon, and broke in quickly. "Shannon, could you come see me after your walk? I'd like to talk to you." She frowned at him through a curtain of straight black hair, but he stared firmly at her. "Sure, Taabsut Mulder," she responded, shrugging her well-muscled shoulders, then turned to follow Andalor from the room. Jourdain sighed. "I'm afraid, Mulder, that you may indeed have to have a serious talk with her. If Andalor was anyone other than who he is, I would bless that relationship. And even with things as they are, I find it hard to disapprove. Shannon would make a strong queen." "It cannot be," Reinald sighed, running a distracted hand through his flowing white locks. "As dear as young Shannon is, Andalor must be able to make a marriage for political gain. And such unions are not necessarily devoid of affection or even love. Andalor's parents came to care deeply for one another, and it was their marriage that brought us much needed assistance from her nation during the Dark War." "Surely, they'd have helped anyway," Scully remarked. "If we hadn't stopped the Dark Forces here, the rest of this world would surely have been overrun as well." "True, but such practical good sense does not always apply to politics," Jourdain responded. Mulder chuckled and nodded. Leaning back in his chair, his expression turned thoughtful. "I'll talk to Shannon about it tonight," he said grudgingly, his stomach sinking at the idea. He had been thrown into the job of parenting without any preparation or warning, and a teenage girl, growing rapidly into womanhood, was not the easiest of challenges at any time. Especially, when she had both an intelligence and a stubborn streak that fairly matched his own. Scully sent him a wave of understanding and support. //I can talk to her, too, if need be,\\ she offered. Mulder sent back a wave of gratitude, then turned to Reinald. "Meanwhile, there are a few other things we need to talk about." Reinald nodded gravely. "Perhaps we should retire to the sitting room and have some tea." Conversation was minimal as they got up from the table and moved into Reinald's comfortable private room, drawing chairs up in front of the fireplace. Mulder and Scully settled down on a large divan, while Jourdain offered the Professor and Corvay two large chairs. After he had warmed and served the inevitable tea, Reinald took the remaining chair, forming a half-circle in front of the fireplace, while Aldara curled up on the floor near Scully's feet and Jourdain seated himself between her and the roaring fire. Once everyone was settled and sipping at their tea, Reinald began, "Mulder, perhaps you could tell us more of what happened in Fawnleaf." Mulder grimaced, but nodded. Resting his tea cup against his leg, he spoke softly. "I'm sure Jourdain told you about our arrival. Things were tense, but Urielle was able to calm everyone down, at least for a while." A sudden thought occurred and he glanced over at Jourdain. "Where is she, by the way?" "She decided to remain in Fawnleaf, to preside over the funerals of the two elders who were killed. And to help keep things under control. She thinks that with time and some effort, she can heal the wounds. Though right now, I think the only thing holding back a resurgence of violence is the fear of you returning." Mulder winced. Scully unobtrusively closed her hand over his arm, her mind-touch awash with love and understanding. Her mind-voice, though, was tinged by a familiar frustration. //Stop blaming yourself for everything. They only got what they deserved. And if a little fear keeps them from killing each other, then so be it.\\ The fierceness of her psychic tone won a brief, closed smile from him, then he sighed and turned back to his tale. "We got both villages together and Urielle was trying to introduce some common sense, when suddenly all hell broke loose." The Realm's religions didn't really have a concept of 'hell' in the way Earth Christianity did, so Mulder didn't bother attempting to translate it, instead using the English word which his friends had come to recognize, if not understand, as meaning a great deal of trouble. "Two elders were trampled and killed by runaway horses, and then the next thing I knew everyone was fighting everyone else. Urielle did the best she could, but it was out of control." He ran a hand through his hair, then leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling for a moment, before looking straight at Reinald. He spread his hands wide. "I guess I got mad. It was all so senseless, and I'd been feeling sick and irritable all day. I can't explain exactly what I did; I didn't plan anything, I just did it. I was just so ANGRY. I remember throwing a lot of Mage-energy around, and then trying desperately to communicate with Urielle that I needed her help. She finally managed to convince them to cease hostilities, and then I managed somehow to release the magic without blasting anyone. The next thing I remember is waking up here." Reinald sighed dramatically. "Yes, it is about as I had thought it had been." He smiled ruefully. "You gave off quite a blast, Mulder. I fear that every Mage on this continent came down with at least a terrible headache. Two of the ones closest to you simply collapsed in their tracks." Mulder jerked forward in his seat. "Are they all right?" he exclaimed. "Yes, yes, they are fine. They'll both need a few days rest and healing, but they are basically unharmed." Mulder's visible stance relaxed noticeably, but Scully could still feel the tension radiating from him. She continued to feed him as much love and reassurance as she could, but she knew he was quickly sinking into one of his depressions. As much as she loved, respected, and adored her bondmate, his ability to shoulder the entire weight of the world sometimes drove her crazy with frustration. Well, not this time, she thought firmly. "Stop it, Mulder!" She deliberately spoke aloud, and five pairs of surprised eyes flew to her determined face. The only person who didn't turn to stare at her was the one she had addressed. He seemed to have found something fascinating about his hands, and was gazing at them as though they might contain the secrets of the universe. //STOP IT!\\ She repeated herself in a loud mental yell, and he nearly jumped out of his seat. His eyes were a deep, almost pure black as they finally met her bright gaze. "What?" he responded, as though he had completely forgotten she was even there. "Stop trying to blame yourself for everything and stop trying to shut me out." "I'm not..." He protested both verbally and psychically, only to receive her best glare in return. He winced, then closed his hand over hers. //I'd never shut you out, Scully.\\ //Liar,\\ she responded, though not without affection. Opening her mind, she flooded him with her emotions: worry, anxiety, love, affection, understanding, frustration, anger....all feeding off each other. //I hate it when you do that. And don't you dare ask me what!\\ She raised a hand between them, underscoring the silent communication with a physical gesture. //You damn well know what. You start burying yourself in your own guilt and unnecessary sense of responsibility, and you ignore me completely.\\ //Scully....\\ //Enough, Mulder!\\ Her anger suddenly abated as she felt his pain wash over her. It wasn't that she didn't feel or understand the reasons for his behavior or the very real nature of his anguish; she did. But she also knew that the only way to knock him out of it was to give him the mental equivalent of a quick kick in the ass. Tough love, she thought, and could only be glad she was already past the tough and ready to give him the love. Her mental sending softened, as did her expression. She cupped his cheek in her palm and leaned towards him. //Mulder, I understand. But you are not doing yourself any good by feeling guilty over this. You did what you had to do, what was expected of you. And if it got a little out of control because you lost your temper, that's okay too. You didn't hurt anyone. So stop trashing yourself for being human. We all get angry sometimes, and you had good reason for it.\\ "But when most people get angry, they don't start thunderstorms or explosions. I could have killed someone." "You didn't," Scully reminded him. "You wouldn't. Mulder, you took great care to make sure no one got hurt." "Maybe, but what if I wanted to hurt someone? I could do terrible damage." "That's very true." Reinald broke in. Both Mulder and Scully looked startled, having forgotten that anyone else was in the room. Reinald leaned forward in his chair and waited until the two were ready to listen. "Mulder, it is good, very good, that you are finally seeing the potential for disaster inherent in your Mage ability." Scully opened her mouth to interrupt, and Reinald shook his head at her. "Wait a moment, my dear, let me finish." He looked sympathetically at Mulder. "I've been waiting for this conversation, though I wish it had come at a less complicated moment." He sighed, smoothing back his white hair. "Unfortunately, I suppose, there are no uncomplicated times anymore. Anyway, Mulder..." He paused, searching for the right words. "What you are going through right now is something that EVERY Mage goes through at some point in their training, well at least any Blue Mage would. The very fact that you can question yourself, and the potential for great damage that exists in your power, is one of the most important factors in qualifying a Mage-trainee to wear the Blue. In fact, it was one of the things holding Grejor back - he saw only his own ambition rather than the consequences of his magic use. And the result was tragic for us all. "Most Mages learn that lesson very young. I've seen cases where it happened in childhood. The more power at someone's disposal, the sooner they must come to that point - the sooner they realize that losing their temper could become a question of life and death. YOU, Mulder, by any right should have dealt with this many many moons ago. But unfortunately, you came to your power as an adult, and circumstances forced me to speed your training in a terribly reckless manner. And this particular lesson is not one that can be forced, or even the time of it chosen for you. You had to come to it when you were ready." Reinald took a deep sip of his tea, then continued. "Alas, I cannot give you a clear answer to your concerns. You must find your own way of coping with the responsibility that your power gives you. You must come to terms with it, and decide for yourself how, when, and under what circumstances you will use the talent - and you must find your own way to control it. For each Mage, those decisions are a little different. So mine will not necessarily work for you." Silence reigned for a moment, then Mulder broke in, his eyes intent on his teacher's face. "What if I don't WANT that responsibility?" Reinald shook his head. "I'm afraid that's not an option. You were born with the power, and it will always be a part of you. You WILL use it, sooner or later, you cannot help that. The question you must answer is HOW you will use it." He gave Mulder a genuine smile. "My boy, I know you are frightened. It can be an awesome responsibility, especially for one as tremendously gifted as you are. But I have no doubts whatsoever of your ability to do the right thing. I have faith in you, now you must find faith in yourself." "There's no way to shut off the power?" Scully asked. Reinald shook his head. "Not that I know of, at least not without inflicting permanent harm to the Mage." Corvay nodded. "I have seen one or two cases where a serious head injury robbed a Mage of his power, but those poor souls were also afflicted with other damage as well. One never walked again, and the other had serious problems with forming proper language." Mulder groaned aloud. "Forget that," he said wryly. Aldara had been taking this all in with wide-eyed attention. Stirring in her seat, she looked up at Mulder. "When I first saw you really use your power, that day in the practice fields when Wide River was attacked, I was terrified." She swallowed hard, finding the admission hard to make. "I almost ran away and left you there. But afterwards I realized that I had never been in any danger, that you would rather have died than hurt me. Mulder, you know how much I fear the power you wield, but since that day, I've never again feared YOU. You taught me that the power is like a sharp sword. In the wrong hands it can be deadly and terrible, in the right hands, it can do great good. I may not like the power, but I trust you." There were general nods of agreement from everyone in the room. Scully leaned up to kiss Mulder on the cheek. //You're not alone in this, you know. I love you. I'll always be here to help.\\ Mulder turned to kiss her back, then he lifted his chin to rest it on the crown of her head. "I guess I don't have a lot of choice in the matter." "No," Reinald chuckled softly. "But you'll do fine." Still snuggled into Mulder's embrace, Scully thanked Reinald with her eyes, then quietly changed the subject. "There's something else I've been concerned about, and I was hoping you or Corvay might be able to help." "What is bothering you, my dear?" Corvay asked, his dark eyes bright in his aged face. "Mulder's not the only one having trouble with his temper. While he was gone, I found myself getting angry at almost everyone and everything. I felt irritable and tense, and frankly, a little feverish. The longer he was away, the worse it got. We've had minor problems being separated before, in our world, but in those cases we were much further apart and for much longer. This started within a couple of hours of Mulder's leaving." "Describe for me exactly what you felt." Corvay instructed. Scully frowned. "At first I just felt tense. Then I started feeling...well, 'itchy' - like something was crawling up and down my spine. I got really irritable, the slightest problem or inconvenience would make me furious, and I had a hard time speaking kindly to anyone. I couldn't sleep at all. I sat up all night, tossing and turning. Also, I started feeling feverish towards the end. Then, I guess, I finally collapsed." She looked to Aldara for confirmation and received a tight nod in response. Corvay looked thoughtful for a moment, then gazed up at Mulder. "And you, Mulder, did you feel the same?" Mulder nodded. "Yes. Exactly the same. I didn't sleep at all, and I got angry at the slightest provocation. This has something to do with our lifebond, doesn't it?" Corvay sighed, tapping his fingers together. "I believe so, yes. But I cannot tell you more than that. You are the first and only lifebonded Mage I have ever seen. It just never happens. Of course, the life-bonds themselves are rather rare. But even so..." He frowned. "I have heard stories....legends from when I was a child that spoke of such possibilities, but I always assumed they were fictions. Most young women, even today, harbor fantasies of being loved by a good and powerful Mage - it's a romantic fairy tale." Then he grinned up at Scully. "Or so it had been before now." "What did those legends say?" Mulder asked intently, his boundless curiosity engaged. Corvay shrugged. "I can barely remember any of them. Most were standard romantic stories, about a beautiful maiden who falls in love with a good Mage, but is stolen away by an evil one, only to be rescued by her lover." Scully chuckled. "I think such stories are a constant in any culture. In ours it is more often a handsome prince who rescues the woman." Aldara laughed. "Oh, we've got those too." The two women shared a glance of feminine amusement. Mulder ignored the exchange, focusing his green-tinged gaze on Reinald. "Do you have any ideas?" Sadly, Reinald had to shake his head. "No, I'm afraid not. I have heard even less than Corvay. Until you two arrived, I would have sworn it simply wasn't possible for a Mage to form a life-bond." The group was quiet for a few minutes. Slowly, Reinald added, "However, there is one who might help, who might have the information you are seeking." "Who?" Mulder questioned urgently. Reinald leaned forward, speaking with obvious caution. "Be aware that this is only a possibility. Much of what you want to know - what you need to know - is lost in the mists of time and confounded by legend. Your lifebond is unknown except in our legends and prophecies. The man to whom I refer has likewise become a part of our legends. It is nearly impossible to separate myth from truth. I know how much you want to find out about this bond, and just don't want to hold out false hope to you." He looked around at his friends gathered around him, who were rapt in his words. "Any chance is better than none, Mage," said Scully quietly. "It wouldn't be the first time Mulder and I had been on an almost hopeless quest. Tell us more about this man." "His name is Hannu. He is - or was - a Mage of great power and knowledge. Not only a practitioner but one who also studied the powers of magicians, he collected spells from across the Realm. It is reputed that he spent much of his energies in seeking to rediscover the Lost Powers." "Wait a minute," interjected Mulder, his face alive with curiosity. "What are these Lost Powers?" Reinald sighed and good-naturedly began to explain. He had known how the young Mage would react to the subject. "They are powers that are spoken of in our legends, that were the basis of the legendary spells. Unfortunately, no one knows for sure whether they were ever anything BUT legends. Certainly no Mage has possessed these powers for thousands of season cycles. Or it was thought so until yesterday." Mulder slid a glance in Scully's direction. "Yesterday?" he asked weakly. "What else did I do?" Reinald laughed out loud. "My boy, you have set the Mage world on its ears! As if the shock waves from your power-use weren't enough, you also managed to do something that no one else has ever been able to do. Don't you remember making the earth itself split open? The power to make the very earth tremble and open is something that is spoken of only in legend - one of the Lost Powers." "But I didn't mean to," explained Mulder sheepishly. "I lost my temper and it just happened." "I know." The old Mage smiled kindly at his protege. "But it is all the more reason that I believe it is imperative for you to seek out Hannu. If he still exists." "I knew there was a catch, " Scully murmured. Louder, she said, "Where is he supposed to live?" "Hannu retreated from the world a long time ago. The reason is a mixture of conjecture, myth and truth. Who knows how much of each? In any case, something occurred, some shattering incident in his life, and he withdrew. The rumor was that he travelled far from here to become a simple village Mage." Reinald paused. "As I said, it all happened long ago. Anything could have happened in the meantime, especially in view of the devastation wrought by the Dark Creatures." "Did you know him yourself?" Mulder was becoming fascinated with this mystery man who might be able to answer so many questions. Reinald sighed. "No. No, Hannu was alive hundreds of season-cycles before I was even born." Puzzled, Scully began, "Then how could he-" "Still be alive?" Reinald finished for her. "That is even more difficult to believe and shrouded in mystery. At one time he was said to have played a major role in the politics of the Realm. He was a 'young lion', I believe the expression is. Charismatic, powerful, ambitious, but with a purity of aura that almost rivals your own, Mulder. In fact, he was the Royal Mage of his day. Something happened - our legends tell it as a cataclysmic duel between good and evil - and he suddenly disappeared from our land. The whole story became the basis of one of our most-loved legends, the subject of poetry and art and minstrels' songs. Then, relatively recently, it was rumored that he was back. The exact manner of his coming and going has never been explained. But the rumors have been persistent that he came back, to dwell in a remote village. What a waste he retreated from our world," Reinald almost whispered to himself. He sat for several minutes, lost in thought. "Do you have any idea where he may be?" Scully probed gently. "Hm? Oh, well, an idea, but not much more than that. Somewhere beyond the Greenswan Forest, in the area of the Gilfralia Mountains, a remote area far to the south and east of here. That's only the popular rumor of where he may be, of course, which may or may not be true. A very arduous and possibly dangerous journey to take on such a slim lead. I hate sending you on a wild goose chase at the risk of your lives. But if anyone in our world has the answers you seek, it will be Hannu." - - - - - Mulder settled gratefully in the big chair by the fire. Stretching out his long legs towards the source of warmth, he toasted his toes then drew them back. Scully handed him a cup of tea, then gasped as he put his free hand around her waist and pulled her down into his lap. //HEY!\\ She scolded lightly, trying to keep her cup of tea from spilling onto them both. He chuckled, burying his nose into the sweet-smelling wave of her hair. He drew her scent deeply into his lungs, then released his breath, hot against the skin of her neck. Having regained control of the hot teacup, Scully wriggled in his lap, then snuggled into his chest. She could feel the effect her movements had on him, physically and emotionally, a sly smile curving her lips. His grip on her tightened, his mind rich with amusement and appreciation, but she could feel the somberness underlying his affection. Lifting her head to meet his luminous gaze, she asked the question on both her minds. "Do you think we're making the right decision?" Mulder pursed his mouth thoughtfully. "I know the timing isn't too good. The trip could take up most of our remaining time in the Realm." //We'd better remember to check with the Professor again on that,\\ he added. Her affirmative reply didn't even form a single word, instead it was a tingle of psychic understanding, one that would not even have needed the fully-formed lifebond for them to share. Or perhaps, their ability to communicate nonverbally that had developed over the years of their partnership was indistinguishable from the lifebond itself, part and parcel of the same soul-link that bound them as two halves of a whole. He acknowledged her agreement without words, turning his attention back to the bigger question. "I know we're taking a big chance, going in search of someone who may not still be alive, and might not be able to help us, even if he were willing to try. But we need the answers, and it looks like no one else besides this Hannu can help. Besides, it will give us a chance to see more of the Realm before we leave." His entire face lit up like a child offered a much-desired toy. "I've always wanted to get out and around more, now that we don't have a war to worry about." Scully couldn't help laughing at the hopeful, delighted expression in his bright hazel eyes. She stroked his cheek tenderly, then rewarded him with the sunshine of her smile. "Me too. Though I am a bit concerned about our growing inability to be physically separated." "Well, at least we'll be together on the trip, that should help until we can find Hannu and figure out a solution. But what about Shannon? Do you think we ought to bring her with us? I know her friendship with Andalor is attracting notice; Reinald is certainly concerned. But it might be safer for her to stay here while we're gone. If something were to happen to her on the road..." His voice trailed off, but Scully had no trouble filling in the blanks. He'd blame himself. "Yes, of course, we should bring her with us," she replied firmly. "Mulder, Shannon is a big girl. In the Realm, young women her age are getting married and having babies, practicing their crafts, managing homes. Besides, just imagine how much trouble she might get into without you around to look after her!" That drew a chuckle from Mulder, even as his eyes widened with mock horror. He smiled, leaning down to touch his forehead to hers. //I guess you're right. We are the closest thing to family she has now.\\ //She'd never forgive us if we left her behind,\\ Scully reminded him. //Besides, the trip will be good for her. She needs to stretch her wings, and we'll both be there to catch her if she falls.\\ //I suppose,\\ Mulder replied, still hesitant, his fear for Shannon's safety warring with his desire to keep her close by. Scully stroked the side of his face tenderly. "I know it's hard to stand by and let her make her own mistakes, but that's all part of growing up. She'll do fine. She's a good fighter and a lot tougher than she looks." Mulder grinned. "Oh, I have no doubts about that!" They both laughed lightly, then Mulder nodded solemnly. "You're right, Scully. And besides, for all we know this trip could be a real vacation. Though...with all the problems the Realm is having now..." Mulder frowned darkly. "It worries me, Scully. I can't put my finger on it, but I think there's more to this than meets the eye. I still think it's being orchestrated somehow. I just can't figure out why, how, or by whom." Scully struggled with the familiar temptation to tease him about his predilection for leaping to conclusions, but she, too, had a strange sense of unease about the recent outbursts on interspecies conflict occurring in the past couple months. And she knew from long experience, that however outrageous Mulder's intuitive leaps might be, they had a forbidding tendency to be proven true. "Do you think it could be the same Black Mage that vaporized or kidnapped or did Goddess know what to Drellor?" she asked. Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. It's certainly possible. I hope Tarnor gets back before we leave, I'd like to check with him on it. He's got the most experience dealing with the dark practitioners." Scully felt a tug of fear, and shivered involuntarily. He immediately hugged her into the heat of his body, his mind a burning presence on the edges of hers. //Are you all right?\\ "Yes, I'm fine. Just a slight chill," she replied. Setting down his cup of tea and then hers, he turned her around until she was facing him, his breath warm against her cheek. "Hmmm, can't have you catching a cold, now can we?" She wrapped her arms up around his neck and whispered into his mouth. "Think you can warm me up?" "AHEM!" A loud cough disturbed them both. They separated reluctantly, turning to find Shannon staring at them from the doorway, her amber eyes glowing with amusement. "You wanted to talk to me, Mulder?" The tall slender girl spoke negligently, leaning against the open door. Dressed in warrior green, her waist-length black hair was coiled into a thick knot at the nape of her neck. A few loose tendrils framed a thin, oval face, the high cheekbones and strong jaw underlining an apparent physical relationship to Mulder. In reality, they were not blood kin, but for the purposes of establishing Shannon's position in the highly stratified Realm society, Mulder had taken the girl under his wing. The technical Realm terms for the relationship were 'taabsut' and 'halla', which loosely translated in English terms as 'uncle' and 'niece' - however, the practical applications in the Realm were much more exacting. Mulder was totally responsible for her until she was legally married, and it was a duty he took even more seriously than he would admit, even to himself. Perhaps only Scully, who knew him better than he knew himself, had any inkling of just how dear the young girl had become to him. Scully smiled in welcome at Shannon, offering her a chair by the fire and a cup of tea. Shannon accepted both gratefully, sinking her lanky frame into the cushions with a soft sigh. She had begun to shoot upward in height, which combined with an adolescent self- consciousness, making her sometimes appear gawkish and awkward. But the warrior training was already ameliorating that, creating glimpses of the beautiful and graceful woman she would soon become. For now, though, she was a sixteen year-old girl, well aware she was facing a lecture from the one remaining parent figure in her life. And as beloved as he was, she was not looking forward to it. As Scully moved to leave them, Shannon reached out to restrain her. "You don't have to go, Dana," Shannon said. "I don't want to push you out of your room so late at night." Scully saw straight through the maneuver, though she merely smiled at the girl. "That's all right. I know you and Mulder have a lot to talk about, and I promised Kyla I'd check in with her tonight." Scully walked over to muss affectionately with Mulder's dark hair. "I'll be back in a little while." He grimaced at her, but nodded and then smiled softly. //Come back soon.\\ His mind added a few vivid images of his plans for her when she returned, and she was unable to hide the blush that reddened her cheeks. Turning quickly, she left the room, though not without returning a thought or two of her own. Once Scully had left, Shannon decided to go on the attack first, figuring that the best defense was a strong offense. "Look, Mulder, I'm sorry about what I did to Yurka. Well," she bit at her lip, then angled her head at him. "Well, actually I'm not really sorry about her. But I am sorry to create so much trouble. I didn't plan on doing it. She attacked, and then something just exploded inside me." She frowned more ominously, then stared at him with wide honey-tinted eyes. "I don't know what happened!" Her bottom lip trembled, as panic began to rise. Seeing Mulder use his well- controlled talent was one thing, but having a force she still didn't understand flow out of herself was simply frightening. Mulder leaned forward to reassure her gently. "It's all right, Shannon. Actually, it's my fault. Lita told us that you had some nascent Mage talent and I'd been meaning to test you on it. But things kept getting in the way..." He mirrored her frown. "Even so, it's surprising that you were able to release so much power. No one thought you had that much power available." He focused his eyes on her, his pupils dilating as he concentrated on seeing past the surface and deeper, to open his mind to her aura. Shannon watched him studying her with barely concealed concern, and a small sparkle of excitement. Could she really get to be like Mulder....she both desired and dreaded the possibility. Meanwhile, Mulder blinked rapidly, then abruptly jerked in his seat. Leaning back he met her eyes with some surprise. "What is it?" she demanded. "Your aura has shifted," he replied. "I don't know how or why such a thing could happen. But I'm not an expert on auras." He thought for a moment, his brilliant mind turning over, analyzing and discarding a dozen possibilities faster than most people could consider one or two. Finally, he spoke cautiously, rubbing at his chin. "My power seemed to be there immediately upon entering the Realm. But I'm an adult, and I seem to have more than my share of the stuff. Yours is still relatively faint in comparison, though certainly stronger now than a few days ago. And you're also a teenager....hmm...I'll have to check with Scully and Lita on this, but maybe it has something to do with that. You have undergone quite a growth spurt lately, maybe this is part of the same thing." "You mean I'll get more power as I get older?" Shannon asked intently. Mulder shrugged. "Don't know. I've always assumed the talent was an all-or-nothing kind of thing. But maybe going through the vortex and the natural physiological changes you go through at this age have altered things. Regardless, it looks like I can't keep putting off giving you some Mage training." Shannon groaned. "More lessons? I thought I'd be getting away from school when I came here, and instead it's even worse! I'm getting taught something or another for like 12 hours a day!" Mulder grinned at her. "Don't fuss. You've got it easy compared to what they put Scully and me through the first time we came here. Besides, we'll take this slowly. It shouldn't add too much to your daily schedule. And you might even like it." Shannon smiled back at him. "Maybe. Actually, it would be kind of neat to be able to turn people into toads." Mulder laughed. "Don't hold your breath. I'm not sure I can do that." Shannon shrugged, unrepentant. "Good, I'll talk to Reinald about this tomorrow. In the meantime, there are a couple of other things we need to talk about." Mulder said. Shannon forestalled him again. "Please don't tell me you're going to get on my case about Andy." Mulder stared at her in surprise. She smiled wryly at him. "I'm not stupid, you know. Andy and I are both aware that Reinald and some others around here are getting worried about our friendship. But it's not necessary. Andy and I both know that 'cause he's stuck being king that he can't be romantic with anyone unless its been set up for him. He's not too happy about it, but he knows he's going to have to marry some princess or other for the sake of an alliance or trade routes or something stupid like that." "Shannon..." She waved her hand at him. "It's okay, REALLY! Besides, Andy and I don't feel that way about each other. We're just good friends. He doesn't really have too many people his own age he can talk to. And most of the ones here treat him funny because he's the king. They either get all polite, afraid of getting into trouble, or they fawn all over him. Now THAT's disgusting, even Andy realizes that. He's actually pretty smart; well, most of the time anyway. But still, we can talk to each other just as us. After all we've been through together, I find it hard to see him as a king, and I think he likes that." Mulder felt a sharp sense of relief racing through his veins. He had underestimated both of these young people, but he was grateful to find that he had. "I'm glad for you both," he said approvingly. "I think it's wonderful that Andy has someone his own age to talk to who can really listen to him. And, personally," he confided warmly, "I would have no problem if you became more than friends someday. But Andalor is king, and that means he has a lot of responsibility to these people. Unfortunately, that means that his personal choices are more limited than yours or mine. I'm not sure that's a good thing, but for now, that's the way it is." Shannon nodded calmly. "Yeah. I know. It does stink, though. Andy is terrified they're going to make him marry one of the Dordinal girls." She shivered with unconcealed revulsion. Mulder visualized the two arrogant and rather unpleasant teenage girls in questions and found himself mirroring his halla's reaction. He certainly wouldn't want to get stuck with either of them himself. His mind couldn't help seeing the lovely face of his Scully, her eyes bright with intelligence and humor, and he again thanked any and all Gods that might be, for blessing him with her. "Hopefully," he said cautiously, "they'll find him someone better. I can't imagine Reinald doing that to Andalor unless it was an absolute emergency." "Yeah, I hope so too," Shannon replied with a bright smile. Mulder smiled in return, then brought up the final subject he needed to discuss with her. "Shannon, there's one more thing I need to talk to you about." Unable to figure out what else she could be in trouble for, Shannon drew upright in her chair. Surely she'd know if she had done something else wrong? Mulder reached out to reassure her. "No, you haven't done anything else wrong," he told her, grinning at her surprised reaction. "And no, I didn't read your mind. I can't, at least not yet. But it wasn't hard to figure out. Anyway, relax. I think you might like this idea." "What idea?" she asked, relaxing back into her thickly cushioned chair. "How would you feel about taking a trip with Scully and me?" Shannon bolted forward in her seat, fixing him with an excited stare. "A trip? Where are we going? When do we leave?" "Whoa," Mulder chuckled. "Take it easy. We haven't worked out all the details yet. Basically, Scully and I need to find an old Mage by the name of Hannu. We have some questions about our lifebond that Reinald can't answer, but thinks Hannu can. To the best of anyone's knowledge he lives far to the south in a forest. It will be a long trip, maybe weeks on the road. And don't forget that there aren't highways and cars around here, much less airplanes. We'll probably be on horseback for days on end, and may have to camp along the way. So it may not be as much fun as you think. Scully and I are definitely going, however, and we'd like for you to go with us." "Oh YES!!! COOL!!!!" Shannon leapt out of her chair and threw her arms around Mulder's shoulders. She squeezed him in a tight hug, and he returned it with affection. Then he disentangled himself from her. "There will be some rules for you to follow. I mean this, Shannon. You will do as either Scully or myself instructs without argument, and you will NEVER wander off alone without getting permission first. Do you understand?" "Yes, Taabsut Mulder," she replied. He gazed sternly at her, and she nodded at him. "Yes, I understand. I'll be good, I promise." "All right," he sighed, figuring it was the best he was going to get. "Go get some sleep now. We'll have a lot of planning to do tomorrow." She jumped up, still grinning ear-to-ear, and hugged him quickly again. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she ran for the door. When she left, he was still smiling despite himself, and that simple amusement stayed with him as he quietly prepared for bed and settled down to wait for Scully to return. End of Chapter Five THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Six She was beautiful. Hauntingly erotic, every line and curve of her hourglass figure melded and flowed in perfect symmetry. She moved with the lithe grace of a wildcat, muscles tensing beneath perfect ivory skin. Eyes like limpid black pools of oil were framed by tight arches of ebony eyebrows and underlined by high, dramatic cheekbones. The mouth was a thick slash of red, lips pouting and full, covering rows of pearly white teeth. She was lovely. And Drellor thought she was most terrifying thing he'd ever seen in all his life. Her hands, delicate and long-fingered, possessed inordinate strength. Grasping him by the collar of his tunic, she lifted him effortlessly, holding him suspended in mid-air, his feet flailing for the missing floor. Turning swiftly, she carried him through the doorway and down the seemingly endless dark corridor. A sharp turn took them up a winding staircase of hewn marble, steps formed of huge blocks of stone, their edges glittering in the dim light. Then they were through a second doorway and into a room familiar from his nightmares. The center dominated by a sphere glowing blacker than black, the walls were lined with books and velvet drapes. What little light there was sputtered from flickering candles, the tiny flames appearing almost ashamed of their presence in this place. With a quick flick of her wrist, Drellor was unceremoniously dumped into the center of an elaborately woven rug, the edges rimmed by curling runes and odd-shaped symbols. He scrambled to his feet, looking around him nervously. She ignored him, striding over to the hematite sphere and fondling the surface with sure strokes of her elegant hands. "Whhhat is happening?" Drellor blurted out, attempting to recover some of his dignity. He was answered only with a low, soft chuckle, the sound simultaneously sending a shiver of fear and a jolt of desire through his body. He responded by trying to take a step off the rug. Without even turning around to look at him, she cast her arm in his direction. Black flames danced from her right forefinger, striking hard at the embroidered runes, then blazing up to keep him confined. Terror grabbing him hard, he ran one way, then another, but the circle was complete and he was caught like a rat in a trap. Finally, he settled down in the center, drawing his knees up to his chest. And he waited. - - - - - The Evil One, the Queen of the Dark Realm, Lady of the Swamp - she was the last survivor of the ancient House that had once ruled this land. Mage-kings and queens, ruling by right of power and strength, they had seemed invincible. Long, long ago, she had born a princess, eldest daughter of the king, garbed in wealth and gifted with power. Trained from the taking of her first breath to be the next queen, she was the first of her family to fail to sit upon that throne. And she felt that failure to the very core of her being. Below her concentration on the intricate spell, a piece of her mind could not stop the review of the distant past. Memory was the one thing she could not control, could not banish from her thoughts. Memory of rebellion and battles so long over that even the bones of the dead had turned to dust within the shallow earth. But she could not forget, would not forget. She had seen her family die, leaving her bitterly alone. All because the Blue Mages had tried to stamp out the Black Arts at which her family and kind were so terrifyingly proficient. Her father had been consumed by the hunger for vengeance on the death of his wife. She had sickened and eventually died from a mysterious ailment, which he blamed on the Blue Mages. Laboring with a tirelessness that only madness brings, he had been killed horribly, blown apart by the force of the spell he was attempting to concoct to wreak his vengeance. Then her home - this lovely black castle - was imbued with a white spell, making dwelling within its walls impossible for the young princess and her younger sister. Driven into the swamp, they had lived by their wits and talents, alone, pursued. Never as strong or gifted as her older sister, Lashmilla dwelled entirely in the past, reaching out for the comfort of her dead parents. She had simply faded away before her older sister's eyes. Death by exile and sorrow, the worst kind of death, thought the Dark Queen. Without honor, without vengeance, without the race and flow of blood. She alone had escaped with her life, barely managing to eke out an existence in the dank confines of the swamp. Her power, that of an adolescent, was barely enough to shield her, to call her dinner to her, not enough to strike out. Not then. But she had learned by necessity, and soon found more uses for the blood of the animals than simply to feed her thirst. Blood, she discovered, fed the power. It both aided her concentration and augmented the magical force. From the denizens of the swamp, she soon graduated to those few humans and elves unwary enough to venture into her mist-covered domain. But once the blood-lust was satisfied, she began slowly to take more from her victims. To put off the moment of death until she had drained their minds of knowledge and information. And then once she felt she knew enough, she drew her power around her like a cloak and took her first steps out of the swamp. The world was fascinating to her, and though the time had seemed to flow slowly to her within her hiding place, the Kingdoms of the Realm had moved through nearly a century. The memory of her family had degenerated to horror stories told around campfires in the falling dusk. That lack of knowledge gave her safety, and she soon found herself a place with the magicians of the day, professing herself to be a child of the outlands, an orphan lost in the world. She managed to shield in her aura the telltale signs of the Black Arts but the power there was unmistakable. Her power was an enticement of its own, and delighted by such a promising student, they had not questioned her story. And so, she had waited and learned, absorbing information from them like a cloth takes up water, until she felt she had sucked them dry and was ready to make her move. The young heir to the head of the Maalfees House of the day was the perfect target, and she led him easily into her trap. It was easy, almost too easy - but she exulted in her success, drawing nearer and nearer to the throne that she felt was her true destiny. Nothing could have stood in her way, if it hadn't been for.... Enough! she told herself, her hands shaking for the briefest of moments before her control slammed shut. She wouldn't think of him - of that Blue Mage, who even now was rumored to be huddled in his forest domain. If she had suffered from his interference in her plans, then so too had he. Their magics had clashed in an explosion so violent it had almost shattered time itself, casting them both beyond their world. Several centuries had been lost before she could find her way back through the vortex to this world, and nearly another before he, too, had returned. She chuckled lightly, for she had indeed learned much from her foray along the lines of eternity, and it had been obvious that HE had been shaken as well. No longer the proud Royal Mage, he had scuttled into his forest like a frightened rabbit. Still, she frowned bitterly, his power and his presence was enough to keep her confined to this sunken castle within the swamp. She could keep her youth through blood spell easily, but she had no intention of being cast adrift on the winds of time yet again. The time was coming, soon enough, when her power would rise and his would fade and fall. No, she was not afraid of him anymore, it was another young Mage who was her primary concern. And now it was time to learn more of her potential adversary. Stepping back from the boiling globe, she waved an arm through the air to banish the encaging spell around her cringing tool. Lifting him up easily, she began the rhythmic spell chant, his fear feeding the power. - - - - - Scully leaned down to drop a quick kiss on Corvay's forehead. The little old elf stirred in his sleep, but did not waken. She stood gazing at the healer, the man to whom she owed so much. First he had taught her how to accept the gifts she had been given, no easy task for one so rooted in the explainable as she was. He then taught her to hone those gifts, helping her to save her bondmate's life, and possibly her own. And he had offered her reassurance and comfort when she had none to offer herself. As she watched the shallow rise and fall of the frail chest, she knew that she might never see him again. The fact that he was incredibly old and probably ready for the Next World was of no solace whatsoever. Scully added her prayer to the Goddess, to hold her mentor as dear as she did herself. Then, eyes blinded by tears, she gathered up the ointments she had come to fetch for the journey ahead and slipped quietly from the room. Kyla looked up from her bench as the smaller red-haired healer reentered the workshop. Her eyes asked the question for her, and Scully responded with a simple shake of her of head. The other healer sighed, and nodded. "He is getting old, I'm afraid." Kyla absently stirred the herbal concoction in front of her with the wooden spoon. "Healer's gift aside, that is one thing that catches up with you sooner or later." "I know," Scully replied sadly. "I just hope..." Her voice trailed off, unable to find the proper words. Kyla met her eyes with grave sympathy. "He'll leave this world peacefully and without pain, I'll make sure of that." Scully smiled, though her eyes were moist. "Thank you," she replied simply. Hefting the sack of supplies, she took a reluctant step toward the door. "I guess I'd better get going. There's a lot to do before we leave." "Oh! Wait," Kyla jumped up from her seat, towering over the smaller woman. She walked past Scully and reached for a small jar up high on a shelf. "Take this with you. It is an ointment that is supposed to fight fevers, especially those caused by wounds gone bad. I don't honestly know what is in it - Corvay gets a small amount occasionally from one of his mysterious suppliers. All I know is that it has helped when nothing else has." Scully took the jar from her and opened it to find a small amount of a greenish paste. She sniffed at it, but couldn't distinguish anything specific. "Are you sure you want me to take it - if it's all you have?" Kyla smiled down at her. "Chances are you'll need it far more than we will. Things can happen on the road. Best to be prepared." She hesitated a moment, then said formally, "Warrior-Healer Scully, you are distressed. May I enter your mind as a healer?" Scully nodded her assent, felt the cool light pressure of Kyla's fingers on her face, and immediately sensed a flood of solace and peace. Moments later, Kyla removed her hands and stepped back. "Thank you." Scully's return smile lit up her entire face, taking away the lines of worry that had creased the edges of her eyes and mouth upon finding her old teacher so weak. "Good luck," Kyla told her, retaking her seat at the bench. Scully waved at her, added the jar to her bag of supplies and quietly let herself out. - - - - - Perched on the edge of Reinald's desk, Mulder watched his friend and teacher bustle around the room. Light filtered down from the high windows to dance upon the expanse of stone floors and illuminate the piles of books and papers strewn across every possible resting place. Mulder carefully nudged one such jumble aside to gain a better seat, then leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "We'll be fine," he said patiently yet again, and was ignored for his trouble. Mulder sighed and closed his eyes, his mind instinctively reaching out for Scully. He caught the edge of her thoughts, an image of the stone courtyard warmed by the glow of sunset and the weight on her shoulders. //Found what you needed?\\ he asked. He could almost *see* the smile that grew on her face in response to his mental touch. //Yes, and one extra gift...\\ Then her mind stilled, and he could feel her concern like a brush of cold air. //What's the matter?\\ he asked, waiting for her to tell him, willing to grant her privacy by not simply taking the answer from her mind. He could sense the equivalent of a mental sigh, then her mind-voice rang clear. //It's Corvay. He's so frail, and has taken to sleeping most of the day. I don't think he has very much longer to live.\\ //I'm sorry.\\ He responded, accompanying the thought with a wave of sympathy and reassurance, and his own memories of the feisty, gallant healer. She acknowledged him with a quick, electric tap against his consciousness, one of those strange little nuances of psychic conversation they had developed over the length of their lifebond. Then she changed the subject. //How are things going with Reinald?\\ Mulder let her feel his mixture of amusement and exasperation, then his thoughts coalesced into simple words. //He thinks he has some maps of the Greyveil region somewhere, and a couple of old history books that might tell us more about the mysterious Hannu. I have a feeling, however, that we'll actually get there long before Reinald finds anything.\\ Scully's mind-laugh was like the chime of a church-bell, clear and sweet. //You never know, love. And those maps would come in handy...\\ As though carefully timed to prove her right, the psychic conversation was interrupted by a loud shout. "Ah ha!!!!" Reinald pounced on a small old iron-clad chest, tucked away in a corner and covered with dusty old tomes. "I knew it was here somewhere." He pulled the chest free and carried it to the table in the center of the chamber. Mulder closed his thoughts to Scully warmly, then ambled over to join him. Reinald opened the chest, not with a key but by chanting a few lines in the old tongue. Its lid creaking, the chest opened to reveal some cloth and several scrolls of a parchment-like material, their edges brown and desiccated. The old Mage reached in and selected one, carefully unrolling it. "Oh my goodness, so this is where that went to." He let it furl up and placed it on the table, then pulled out the cloth. "If this is what I think it is...yes! Here you go," and he handed the cloth to his friend. Mulder unfolded the cloth carefully. It was fine and obviously very old. It was a tapestry, one of the marvels of Realm weaving that seemed almost holographic in its artwork. It depicted a scene of a man and a woman, both apparently Mages from the sparks flying from their fingertips, who seemed to be involved in some magical duel. "What is this, Reinald?" "A depiction of that legend I was telling you about yesterday, the duel between a Blue Mage and a Black Mage. The Blue Mage is purported to be Hannu." Mulder looked closely at the artwork. Hannu appeared to be a tall, ebony haired man with odd, amber colored eyes. He was certainly a striking figure, as was the woman he did battle with. "Take that with you. Perhaps it will help you in some way." He reached again into the chest and chose another scroll. "Yes, yes this is it, my boy. Some required reading for you." "What is it?" Mulder asked, trying to read over Reinald's shoulder. Except for a very short Old Realm preamble, the entire scroll was written using symbols he did not recognize. "This is a very valuable document, one that has been surrounded in mystery. Legend tells us that it has something to do with the Lost Powers. Now, that is not to say that everything in here is true - all records this old seem to be a mixture of fact and legend, with most of them being nothing but a collection of old myths. But this does have some element of truth to it, at least from what our scholars have been able to divine." "What are those symbols? I haven't seen those before," murmured Mulder. He was intrigued by what little he had been able to read of the scroll. "No, even our Mage-scholars have not been able to translate them. Their meaning is as lost as the powers they are supposed to describe. Even the Old Realm section is so strange and archaic that scholars have wrangled for centuries about its meaning. That word is purported to mean 'spell'," he said, pointing with an inclination of his whiskered chin. "But for the most part, they remain a mystery. If the legends are true, this scroll could contribute more to our art than anything has in our history. You are welcomed to put your mind to it. I have more confidence in your mind than in anyone else's. At worst, it will be a diversion for you." "Reinald, if this scroll is so important and valuable, maybe I shouldn't take it with me. Conditions on this journey will be rough at best. I would hate it if anything happened to something with so much historical significance." "Not to worry, my boy." Reinald closed his eyes and passed his hand over the parchment several times, muttering in the old tongue. A soft golden glow seemed to emanate from the surface of the scroll. As Reinald handed him the document, Mulder felt a warm tingling in his fingertips. "That spell should take care of any danger of damage by water or fire, or wild beast attacks." He quickly repeated the spell over the tapestry. Mulder smiled. "I don't suppose you could do the same for the three of us?" Reinald looked troubled. "Would that I could, Mulder. You have no idea how much I wish I had something for that. No, this one works only on inanimate objects. Any of my protection spells for beings are very short-lived and would not last you more than a day's travel. I am not particularly worried about what you might encounter within that distance. My fears for you increase with the distance you travel. If it were not so vital for your questions to be answered, I would urge against this trip. Is there no way I can convince you to take along a small troop of guards?" Mulder shook his head vehemently. "I've been over this with Jourdain. For one thing, we'll make better time if there's just the three of us. We'll also be less noticeable. And, Reinald, can you honestly say that the guards could do more to protect us than Scully and I can do by ourselves?" The old Mage shook his head sadly. "No. But there is such an odd feeling abroad in the Realm right now, and it makes me very uneasy." "You mean the interspecies problems?" "That, and the Noble Houses fomenting unrest for their own purposes. And a young, untried king upon the throne - one whom I happen to love very much. Above all, the sensation that none of this is natural." "Well, the Noble Houses are always up to something. And with a new king on the throne, it seems like an obvious time for them to try something." Mulder added the scroll to his pack. "Yes, I know. But...you know how you felt when you entered the dungeons the other day after Drellor disappeared? That disgusting stench, the feeling that insects were crawling all over you, the...the almost palpable evil there? I'm feeling that more and more. Everywhere. Much more subtly, of course, but it's always there, in the background." Mulder looked grim. "I know. I've felt it too. At first I thought it was just a hangover from whatever was ailing Scully and myself, that I was oversensitive or something. But I agree. It's the Black Arts." He reseated himself on the corner of the Mage's desk. "I thought Tarnor had already banished most of the Black Mages. Is there one you know of that has this kind of power - the power to hold distant beings in thrall? I mean, Reinald - that's a terrifying thought." The old Mage nodded, his white beard and long flowing white hair bobbing up and down as he did so. "It is a terrifying thought, Mage Mulder," he agreed. "A terrifying thought, indeed. Tarnor continues at his task, and fewer Black Mages remain in the Realm. And no, I know of no one with this kind of power. That's the most frightening part. Once there might have been. Again, our cursed history being more prone to poetry and legend than fact, it sheds little light. There was a legend about a whole dynasty of kings and queens who were incredibly potent practitioners of the Black Arts. Supposedly they were eradicated long, long ago." He sighed. "But if one still exists somewhere...." A rap on the door interrupted them. It opened a crack, and a leathery gray head poked through the opening. "Am I coming at a bad time?" Mulder smiled warmly. "No, of course not, Tarnor. Come on in." He went to the hearth and poured tea, and rose to hold a mug out to the gargoyle. "When did you get back?" They removed the clutter from the chairs and seated themselves at the hearth. "Just now. I ran into Jourdain in the courtyard and he told me you have spent the day preparing for a great journey." "Yes, we have. We're going off in search of the mysterious Hannu. Can I get some tea for you, Reinald?" "Thank you, my boy. After our conversation, I feel in need of a restorative." The young Mage poured tea for himself and Reinald, as the older man brought Tarnor up to date with Drellor's disappearance, the events in Fawnleaf and the probability of the involvement of the Black Arts. Since Tarnor had just returned from his continuing mission to seek and drive out any practitioners of black magic, he was well versed in the subject. The gargoyle's normally comic face was somber when Reinald had finished. He stared into his mug as he swirled the contents absently. "I, too have felt it...that something was wrong somehow. Of the Black Mages I have been in contact with, a few are truly evil. Most are merely foolish or overambitious or sick. But none has had the power to do what you're describing. And even they have mentioned a disquiet in the air, and oddly enough, they have been at pains to distance themselves from it. You know, Mulder, I understand that you and Scully need answers to your uncertainties about your lifebond, and the complications that it's presenting. But this journey may be even more critical for another reason." He looked up to see that he had captured the scrutiny of his companions. "Hannu - if he exists - is reputed to know more about the Lost Powers than anyone else. It may well be that we are going to need those very powers to defeat whoever is using the Black Arts to cause the Realm's problems. And I don't think I'm being unduly pessimistic when I say that those problems are probably going to get worse." Mulder sighed. "No, unfortunately, it only makes sense. Whoever it is that's been causing these problems has been successful so far. The Fawnleaf situation has been quelled for now, but for how long? And in how many other villages is the same hatred, the same bigotry building to a fever pitch even as we speak? Urielle said that there was something unnatural about the emotions she was encountering in Fawnleaf. Could a Black Mage be wielding enough power to superimpose that kind of hatred on beings? On hundreds of beings, and from an unknown distance? That's a frightening amount of power to be throwing around with impunity, for someone's own evil ends." "Have you discovered what happened to Drellor, Reinald?" asked Tarnor. Reinald rose and began to pace restlessly around the room. "No. I'm no closer now than when we first discovered his disappearance. He may have been in league with a Black Mage - he has used their arts before. Perhaps he was able to contact one somehow, and was spirited out of his cell. Or perhaps he was turned into a fly, or a maggot. Now that would be in character, anyway." He threw himself back into his chair in frustration. "I don't know. And I can't even begin to guess how I can find out." "Perhaps he was even kidnapped," Mulder suggested. Tarnor looked doubtful. "But why?" "Maybe his knowledge and his hatred of the king would be helpful to someone. Especially if that knowledge could be exploited and turned against the Realm in some way. He did swear revenge." "Possibly. But while I draw breath, I vow that no one will harm a hair on that boy's head," Reinald stated firmly. Then he nodded. "Tarnor's right, Mulder. Your journey is taking on more importance by the moment. And I think you have to be aware of something. A Black Mage powerful enough to do what we suspect may also have enough power to discern your mission, and try to stop you. As if the usual perils of such a journey weren't enough to worry about, there may be supernatural intervention to prevent you from accomplishing your mission." "In that case, all of Jourdain's regiment wouldn't be enough to protect us, so it's just as well to save them the trip." Mulder's sense of the ironic took over and he chuckled ruefully. "What is it, Reinald? You people dwell peacefully in the Realm for thousands of season- cycles, then Scully and I show up and all hell breaks loose. We leave, things go back to normal. We arrive again, things go to hell in a handbasket again. Is it us? Do we somehow bring bad luck to you people?" Tarnor laughed. Reinald just smiled fondly at his protege and shook his head. "The Dark Creatures made their appearance before you did, Mulder. It was just fortunate for our world that you and Scully showed up when you did. And I daresay the same may be true now. You may not accept the significance of your use of one of the Lost Powers in Fawnleaf, but believe me when I tell you that it is a sign of great hope for me right now. No, rather than bringing us bad luck, I think that perhaps the Goddess may be watching out for us by having you appear when we need you most. It's just a pity that your visits here seem to be filled with danger to your own lives." Mulder returned the old Mage's fond smile. "Well, perhaps. But there are so many compensations." The three men finished their tea in companionable silence. Then, Tarnor said, "Oh, that's right! I almost forgot why I came. I brought you these." He handed Mulder a sheaf of parchments tied up with a leather thong. "What's this?" Mulder untied the strip of leather and unfolded the papers. They were maps, illustrated beautifully enough to have qualified as works of art, not unlike the illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages. "These are the ones that you will need for your journey. As you can see, not only are the main travel routes marked, but also some of the paths through forested areas, the best places to ford rivers, and the dangers that exist in each area." He followed Mulder as the young Mage got up to spread the maps on the table. Standing close to him, he pointed out some of the features to Mulder. He traced the route with a bony gray finger. "See, you will follow the way of the Fairwoods River down to Magecloak Lake. There are any number of villages with inns where you can pass the night, but Coldshores is the biggest. Then across the Uriin Plains." Mention of that place caused the three men to shudder involuntarily. Never could they forget the fighting that took place against the Dark Creatures there, the lives lost, the horrors of that time. "Then you might want to cut across to Jinderling. While you're there, you can get an idea of any tensions that exist there. It is a mixed town, with a history of some interspecies squabbling, especially amongst the trolls and the gargoyles. The humans there have pretty much kept out of it." Mulder nodded, and filed the information away in his capacious memory. "All right, try to spend the night there. The fewer nights you have to spend actually on the road, the better." "Amen to that," Mulder grinned. He still ached from the cold wet night he spent on the road to Fawnleaf. Tarnor smiled back and pulled the next map to the fore. "Right. Then on to Fairwoods Glens, which is almost exclusively elves. That is the seat of Prince Mavor." "Excellent," said Mulder. "I was hoping to be able to talk to him anyway, and now in view of the interspecies problems, I think it's a must. I really respect him, and he may have some good counsel." "He is also extremely magically adept, as you will remember," interjected Reinald, "as well as a leading authority on Realm history. He may even be able to give you some information regarding your quest." The younger Mage nodded his understanding. "All right," continued Tarnor. "Now, you'll notice that the most direct route to the Gilfralia Mountains is here," he said, pointing. "Unfortunately, it only looks easy. The Greenswan River runs cold and deep there and the current is fierce. In addition, the river is bordered by high stone cliffs of glass-like smoothness. There is absolutely no way to ford there. So it means one of two things. Either cutting through the northern part of the Greenswan Forest" - Mulder pivoted at Reinald's inadvertent exclamation - "or give the forest a wide berth, and journey over here to Dreegan, down the pass to Goodearth Caverns, and cut over the south coast to the Greenswan Delta." "That seems very far out of the way," said Mulder doubtfully, studying the maps. "I know it seems that way, my boy, but please, heed my warning," begged Reinald. "Do not go through the Greenswan Forest to the north. The northern Greenswan is the way to sure death. Terrible beasts dwell there, beasts which make the soul eaters look like house pets. And the forest is impossibly thick. No path exists. There is not enough room to lead a horse through there, even if you could coax the animal to enter, which you probably couldn't. It is said that there are pits there which swallow a man whole and his horse as well, and poisonous insects and serpents whose bite is deadly to all beings. In the Realm, it is well known that there are two places where no sane being would pass for any reward - the northern Greenswan Forest, and Witch Tears Swamp." "Okay, but what about the southwestern edge of the forest?" asked Mulder, tracing his finger over his suggested route. "What if we cut over from Dreegan through the forest that way?" Tarnor shook his large head. "Too risky, for one thing. No one knows exactly the range of the beasts of the northern Greenswan. You might think you're safe, and run into a slasher wandering far from its den for food. I would hate to see you or the ladies become that food. For another, there is no path from Dreegan to the forest. Travellers have been staying clear of the Greenswan for thousands of season cycles. You would be climbing over rocks and hacking your way through underbrush the whole way. While it looks more direct, in actuality it would take you much longer than if you went to Goodearth Caverns and then along the coast to the Delta. Besides," the gargoyle said, his teeth bared in a ferocious grin. "if you skip Goodearth Caverns, how will my family be able to entertain you? You wouldn't want to disappoint them, would you?" "No, we can't have that," Mulder said smiling. "Well, you're the local boy - I suppose you know what you're doing when it comes to traveling down there. We'll do as you suggest. Besides, I know Scully can handle herself, but I wouldn't want to expose Shannon to anything she's not ready for." "Thank you, my boy. I am going to be anxious enough without knowing you are headed for certain death by attempting to pass through the Greenswan Forest." If Mulder had any doubts about the seriousness of Reinald's words, they were erased by the old man's look of obvious relief. "All right, Tarnor, then what?" "Then through the Delta, up to the fordable part of the Greenswan River, and over into the Gilfralia Mountains. Then the fun will begin, because no one knows exactly where Hannu might be. Somewhere between Treetops and Peaksview is my best guess. Quite a journey." "Yeah. Makes me tired just planning it," said the young Mage. Reinald looked concerned. "Are you sure you have recovered enough? Perhaps if you had another few nights to rest...." Smiling, Mulder shook his head. "No, Reinald, it's now or never. Scully and I have to get a handle on this bond thing before there are bigger problems than we've already experienced. As long as we stay together on this trip - and that is a priority, believe me - we'll be fine. Besides, with what's happening in the Realm, we can't afford to wait. Things are getting worse every day. We have to go now. A Gate would be more convenient, but I guess we have to do this the old-fashioned way." Another knock at the door sounded, and the Professor peeked in. "Am I disturbing you? I heard Mulder's voice. I have those calculations that he wanted...." "Please! Come on in." Mulder leapt up to pour yet another mug of tea and clear away another seat. He exchanged the mug for the paper the Professor extended to him, and studied it for several moments while the Professor sat and made himself comfortable. "Uh, Scully was the physics major, Professor. I'm sure all this scrawl means something to you, but not to me, I'm afraid. Would you care to translate this?" Tarnor's ears flicked in interest. "What calculations are you doing, Professor? Not another vortex, I hope." He shivered, and his companions chuckled. "No, not yet anyway. Mulder asked me to try to calculate how much more time he and Scully could remain in the Realm without being missed in his world." The group sobered. Reinald rubbed his brow and said softly, "You are so much a part of us and our world that I forget that you have another world and another life. Thoughts of your leaving are so painful, I probably wish to forget." "I know, Reinald. Scully and I feel the same. We discussed it seriously before we went back the first time. We were tempted to stay, very tempted. But I have my own quest in my world, to find my sister again. If it were not for Samantha and for Scully's family, believe me, we'd be more than happy to stay here for the rest of our lives. In so many ways, the Realm and its beings mean more to us than our own world. But we must go back. It's just nice that time cooperates, and makes it possible for us to stay so long here and be gone from our world only a fraction of that time. Quite literally, we can have the best of both worlds." Mulder turned his gaze from the kindly old Mage and looked at the Professor. "So what's the bad news, Professor Neumann? When do I have to go back to driving Skinner crazy?" The gaunt old man smiled. "Precise calculations are, as you know, difficult because of the eddies in the flow of relative time - now speeding up, then slowing down. As you can see by my figures" - Mulder looked at him blankly - "well, no, perhaps you can't, but let me assure you that I believe I'm fairly close in this estimate. You should have another month and a half to two months left in the Realm without Skinner sending out the troops to look for his AWOL agents." 'AWOL' did not translate in New Realm, so Mulder did his best to explain it to Tarnor and Reinald. "So, Tarnor, since you are the experienced traveller amongst us - how long do you think this trip will take?" The gargoyle shrugged his bony shoulders. "It depends on how much trouble you run into en route. I would say there was no way you could do it in less than twelve sunrises, at best. At worst, maybe double that. And that's just to get to what we hope is the right area. It's anyone's guess how long it will take you to find Hannu, if he even exists." Mulder frowned. "Counting the return trip, that's cutting it pretty close." Reinald rose and scooped some crystals out of a leather bag on his desk, then poured them into Mulder's cupped palms. "This should help. Miniature Oracle Clouds. We can use them to keep in touch. And when you have completed your quest, with you at a distance and me here, with some luck we should be able to construct a Gate to get you home. I will put all my energies to it. That will save you the time and dangers of the return trip. I just wish I knew of a knowledgeable enough Mage near where you're going so I could Gate you out there, but I don't. Not one that I trust. But this will halve your danger, anyway. The distance will be great, far greater than anything I've yet attempted, but we may be able to pull it off." "I would be honored to help on this end, Mage Reinald," said Tarnor excitedly. "And if we're successful and find Hannu, the two of us should be able to take care of the other end," agreed Mulder. "Sounds like a plan. We'll leave at first light." - - - - - Andalor nodded curtly, returning the salute of the guard in the West Tower. Up here on the battlements, some of his anger cooled in the fresh breeze. Maybe I should have stayed in Mulder's world, he thought. Here, he was surrounded by ridiculous nobles with overinflated egos, problems from one end of the Realm to the other, and duty - always duty. When did he get to do what HE wanted? And if Reinald thought that he would accept one of the loathsome Dordinal girls as his bride, well, he'd look for the nearest available vortex. His pace slowed a bit and he finally paused to look out over the North Wall at the twin moons suspended over the thick forest below. He had to admit that his first foray into Mulder's world had been far from ideal - beset with more problems and dangers than the Realm. Surely it would not be that way again. And if it came to a choice between facing all the dangers that Mulder's world could throw at him, and waking up every morning for the rest of his life beside the revolting Hordensa or Burthilda - well, the decision would be easy. He began walking again at a more leisurely pace and came to the turn where the north and east battlements met. Suddenly, his heart caught in his throat. Fifty paces ahead, Shannon stood looking out at the night sky, her long black hair loose, her simple pale blue shift billowing in the breeze. Now why couldn't the Dordinal girls look more like Shannon, and less like one of the Dark Creatures? He approached quietly, half-reluctant to disturb her thoughts. "You should have a cloak - it's cold up here." Shannon turned to him with a soft smile and gratefully accepted the king's cloak, which he draped over her shoulders. "Thanks. I forgot how much colder it would be up here." In answer to the question in his eyes, she said "I just couldn't sleep. I know I should, we'll be leaving in just a few hours. But I'm so excited! Just think of the things I'll see!" Andalor smiled at her, having to look slightly down at her. They were both growing at a rapid rate and there was an unacknowledged contest between them to see who was the taller at any particular time. He finally had outpaced her, and enjoyed his inch advantage. "Hoping to run into some dragons to slay?" "Are there dragons here? Really?" When the king could hold back his mirth no longer and spluttered with laughter, she knew she had been duped once again. "When am I going to learn not to believe you? Andy, there are times that, king or not, you piss me off!" He laughed, his previous bad mood evaporating in the easy friendship he had with this exciting girl from Mulder's world. "But, Shannon, you're such an easy mark! Besides, I have to get even. You didn't treat me very well when we were in your world." "I treated you as well as you deserved," she shot back. Then she drew the cloak more securely around her shoulders. "What are you doing up here, anyway?" "I often come up here - you know, surveying my vast kingdom," he said dryly. Her look told him that clearly, she did not believe him. "Okay, I was upset at Reinald, and I came up here to walk around until my mood improved. I've been coming up here quite a lot lately." "Is he on your case again?" "Yeah. Well, I don't blame him. What is your saying? "It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it?" It's just that..." he slapped his palms on the top of the wall in frustration "...I HATE being told what to do all the time, and my duty to the Realm always being thrown in my face. I know what my duty is, I've been told what it is since I can remember. There's so many problems right now, serious ones. But I'd hate to think my reward for doing my duty, and working hard to try to solve those problems, would be to be stuck for life with one of the Dordinal girls." Shannon burst out laughing. "The Ostrich and the Warthog? Goddess, Reinald isn't serious, is he?" Andalor smiled grudgingly. "Well, to his credit, I don't think he is serious, not about them, anyway. I think he was presenting the worst case, so I will be more amenable to whoever else they come up with for me to marry. Reinald was just making sure I knew that it was my duty to marry for the good of the Realm. Which means a wife who will bring political strength and bear many sons. Since one can never be sure of the latter, it means that the former is a critical factor." He sighed. "I know it's the custom of the Realm for royals and nobles to have their marriages arranged and blessed by the Council of Representatives. Even some of the commoners believe in arranged marriages. But I had so hoped that at least I would be allowed to choose my own wife," he closed, wistfully. "You mean, you might have to marry someone you haven't even met?" Shannon was clearly horrified. Andalor smiled bitterly. "Yes, that's the way of the Realm. And while you're busy feeling badly for me, mark this. As your taabsut, and having the position that he does in the life of the Realm, Mulder would be expected to arrange your marriage." "No! He'd never do that!" she cried, aghast. "Shannon, he might not have any choice. If it were entirely up to Reinald, I'm sure he would rather I marry for love. But it's not his choice. The traditions here are too strong. But all that hardly matters if you're not going to stay here." "I haven't decided what I'm doing yet. If I want to stay, I'll stay." "But aren't Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully going to leave?" "Yeah, they say they have to get back, soon after we return from our trip. I think they're kind of leaving it up to me whether I go with them or stay here." She turned away from him to look out over the night sky once again, her eyes filling with tears. "It's different for them - they're going back TO something. I have nothing to go back to. I don't know what I'm going to do." "You know that you have made friends here, all of whom would be very sorry to see you go." "Does that include you?" she asked him, her tone at once joking and earnest. His voice was serious, his appearance more adult than she had ever envisioned it. "Especially me, Shannon." Slightly awkwardly, he wrapped her in his arms. "You'll be careful on this trip, won't you? Let Mulder and Scully slay a few of the dragons?" "I'll be careful, Andalor. You know me - indestructible." Her voice was muffled, her breath close to his neck. "I only wish that were true. And I know you far too well to imagine that you won't be in the middle of things if trouble breaks out." She gave him a sneaky but good-natured punch on the shoulder and stepped back from the circle of his arms. "You callin' me a troublemaker?" "I? Far be it for me to cast aspersions on your lily-white feminine character, but may I remind you who almost whipped that gang in your world single-handedly? Of course, that was only after you got us in trouble with them to start with...." As he had known it would, her mood instantly changed from that of troubled teenager to playful child and he took to his heels, as giggling, she chased him along the battlements. - - - - - The cottage sat hunched at the wall of the courtyard, black against the marginally lighter night sky. No fading of moons and stars, no promise of dawn was yet imminent. The silence was total, the peace complete. Which made the stillness-shattering scream from the cottage even more frightening. - - - - - The sky was just beginning to brighten with the first rays of weak sunlight when the group assembled outside the main courtyard. For the fifth time, Scully adjusted her saddle and checked that the pack animals had been properly loaded with everything they had collected to bring. Mulder was conferring with Reinald and Tarnor, receiving last-minute instructions, warnings and well-wishes. Andalor and Shannon had withdrawn a little, away from the group, their heads together in earnest conversation. She waited nervously, anxious to be on their way. At a window in a cottage across the garden, she spotted Kyla, helping Corvay to stand to offer his own farewell to the group. She waved and blew him a kiss, and was rewarded with the old healer's smile. Then they disappeared from the window, doubtless to return Corvay to his warm bed. Again there was a tug on her heart as she thought of how much she loved and respected her old teacher. Sighing, she took the reins in her hands. "Mulder, Shannon. It's time." Accepting a leg up from a nearby guard, she mounted her huge Realm steed. Mulder shook hands with the other Mages, then patted a clearly worried Reinald gently on the shoulder. He walked over to his horse, easily swinging up into the saddle. In seconds she felt him in her mind, having picked up on her nerves and taking a moment to send a message of love and reassurance. She acknowledged it gratefully and turned to check Shannon's progress. Shannon pecked Andalor on the cheek and in a moment was on her horse too. They urged their mounts toward the portcullis. "Scully! Mulder! Wait!" Scully's head snapped around even as she drew in her reins, to see Aldara and Jourdain running towards them, Daanna cradled in her father's arms. She slid off her horse and ran to meet them. "What is it? Is Daanna ill?" Aldara was chalk-pale, her ebony curls tangled. "She had another foretelling dream, Dana. She awoke screaming, and it was a full two candlemarks before we could get any sense out of her. But you have to hear what she says before you go." "Did you have a scary dream, Daanna? Will you tell me about it?" Scully asked the solemn child. Mulder dismounted to appear at her side. Daanna nodded to Scully, but turned and spoke to Mulder. "She'll try to stop you. Stay together and don't let her stop you. You have to pass the test, you must pass it. Or you won't find him." "Who'll try to stop us, honey?" Mulder's voice was soft, calm, assuring. "SHE will. The lady with the black clothes. She's bad, and she'll try to hurt you. But you have to pass a test to find the Blue Man, and if you don't, everything will get all scary and bad things will happen to everyone." The child was shaking, close to tears, and she reached out to Mulder. As he took her in his arms, he glanced over her head at the assembled adults. Daanna's words and their meaning had not been lost on any of them. He stroked her hair and said "All right, sweetie. Now you've told us, and we'll do just as you say. Don't worry, we'll be fine because you've been such a big help, and we'll make sure the scary things don't happen, okay?" The child gazed at him with eyes that seemed hundreds of season-cycles old. "You HAVE to be okay, Mage Mulder. All THREE of you have to be okay for the good things to happen," she said firmly. He nodded slowly, treating her with deadly seriousness. "I promise, Daanna." She gave him a watery smile before reaching out to her mother. Mulder handed the child over to Aldara and swung himself up into the saddle again. Jourdain lifted Scully onto her horse. With hearts and minds too full for words, the Mage, his bondmate and his halla rode out through the portcullis and the safety of Fairwoods Keep. End of Chapter Six THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Seven They rode in companionable silence. Dressed in her warrior green, Scully was a constant, earthy presence by his side. Mulder didn't need to reach out physically or even psychically to feel her, she was with him, of him, by him, always entwined with his own sense of self. Shannon followed a bare horse's length behind them, sitting tall and straight on her horse, her bright amber eyes wide with excitement. Mulder turned his head to smile at her, enjoying the girl's simple pleasure in exploring new places, seeing in her an echo of himself. Shannon grinned at her blue-cloaked guardian, then let her eyes wander again to the heavy walls of foliage lining the hardened earth of the road. The Realm had not discovered the joys of tar- based pavement; instead constant use aided by careful application of magic served to create common pathways between settlements. This one was broad enough to allow two wagons to pass side-by-side, though in hot midday sun, it was presently empty except for the three travelers and their packhorse. The four animals' hooves beat a steady rhythm on the brown earth as they followed the road through a dense forest, the trees stretching high above them to form a green arch above their heads. The center of that arch was open sky, the burning solar orb centered in a cloudless blue sea. Here and there a sound would filter out of the dense growth, color flashing at the edges of their vision, creatures darting from tree-limb to tree-limb, or leaping across the road to vanish into the heavy underbrush on the other side. The air itself was filled with exotic scents, some faintly familiar, reminiscent of lilac and rose, others tempting in their strangeness. Mulder was struck again by the sense of skewed recognition, for there he could see what he would have sworn was an oak, yet at a second glance he saw purplish, gourd-shaped fruit hanging in small clusters surrounded by the classic-shaped oak leaves. He shook his head, smiling to himself, then turned his attention back to his companions. "Anyone for a round of 'A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall'?" "NO!" Both women shouted in unison, then broke out into warm-hearted laughter when Mulder's mobile features settled into a boyish pout. But the day wore on long, and even a quick stop in the village of Waterush for food and other necessities didn't lessen the boredom of spending long hours astride a horse. A short game of "identify the creature" helped for a while, as did a few of Mulder's not-too-exaggerated X-File stories. Shannon was fascinated by their work, but while the Realm had made a serious dent in her disbelief, she still carried a skeptical streak that made Scully proud. Each time the girl challenged Mulder's conclusions, Scully would amusedly arch her eyebrow at her partner. He would gravely shake his head, then spin out yet another tale. Finally, by the time Shannon thought that if she had to spend another instant on the horse, her legs would be permanently bent outwards, they arrived in the small fishing village of Coldshores. The lake shimmered in the falling dusk, the setting sun blazing orange-red flame in the western sky. The pungent smell of fresh fish dominated the air. Hurrying to process the day's catch from the lake, the villagers gave little notice to the three weary travelers. "There," Scully pointed out the sign of the inn with open relief. Shaped like a fish on a pole, the loose wooden flap wavered in the breeze, the New Realm symbol for hospitality forming its eye. "Clever," Mulder commented wryly as they dismounted from their horses, all emitting soft-throated groans of pain as sore muscles set to complaining vigorously. It took a moment for the innkeeper to realize he had guests, but once he did, they were whisked inside, their horses turned over to a pair of grubby youths. Hoisting their saddle packs over their shoulders, Mulder, Scully, and Shannon followed the energetic, human innkeeper inside. Like most Realm institutions of this sort, it was dark and crowded, tables and chairs scattered apparently at random in the large room, a thick bar-style counter lining one wall. A couple of windows threw some light on the scene, the rest of the dull glare provided by thin Mage-lights spaced erratically along the walls and the broad fireplace. "Geera, Geera, hurry woman!" the innkeeper shouted. "We have guests." The stumpy man turned, his narrow eyes taking a closer look at the newcomers, and his mouth widened into a big "o." //I think the dollar signs just went off,\\ Mulder mind-spoke to Scully. She agreed silently, then dropped her pack onto a nearby stool and came to stand at Mulder's side, leaving her hands free. A quick glance at Shannon urged the girl to do the same, so that when a portly, gray-haired woman, who had to be Geera, came bustling out of the kitchen accompanied by the stomach-wrenching stench of frying fish, the three travelers were spaced shoulder-to-shoulder. Coming up beside her fidgety husband, Geera took in their appearance. Her eyes quickly dismissed the two female soldiers for the tall, handsome Mage-cloaked man in the middle, and she abruptly swept into an exaggerated bow. Shannon had to strangle a giggle as it appeared for a moment that the woman had bent over so far that she would topple to the floor at Mulder's feet, but somehow she righted herself, breaking into effusive welcome. "Welcome to our humble establishment, oh mighty Mage," she gushed. Turning to her husband, she issued a rapid-fire set of instructions, then yelled a few more into the backroom. "See that their horses are well-cared for, Hyrtan. You know how lazy those two sons of yours can be. Go on now! And tell Golla on your way out to start preparing hot water for our guests. I'm sure his Mageness will want to take a bath." Now Mulder and Scully were both having a hard time holding back their own laughter, but they knew a hard bargaining session was upcoming, and they needed to retain dignity for at least long enough not to get swindled. In response to more shouting from the excited Geera, a pair of younger copies of her came running out from the kitchen, sweat pouring down their round faces. "There you are, girls. See to the rooms upstairs at once. You are lucky today, honorable Mage, for our best room is vacant. And there is even another empty room connected to it for your guards to use." //Mulder....\\ Scully briskly forestalled any humorous comment from her bondmate, though she could see the bright twinkle of amusement in his hazel eyes. She stared firmly at Geera as the two maidens scurried up the small staircase, throwing back glances and giggles in Mulder's direction. "How much for the night, with supper and breakfast included?" Scully asked. Geera paused for a second, her brown eyes focusing on Mulder's finely woven blue cape and the jeweled hilts of the swords all three carried. A quick note of the brilliant sapphire framed in gold on Mulder's right ring-finger, and she drew herself upright. //Here it comes...\\ Mulder told Scully. "Eight silvers and six irons." Geera gazed firmly up at Scully, who made a show of shaking her head. "Four silvers and three irons," Scully said slowly, her eyes making a casual circuit of the dusty room. Geera stepped back, as though horrified at the offer. "How can you insult us so? This is the finest inn in this part of the Realm. Why my special fish stew is worth that much alone." She gazed appealingly up at Mulder. "Surely, you understand our worth, oh powerful one." Mulder almost choked, trying to hold back the laughter. Letting Scully feel the strength of his amusement, he forced his face into a stern expression, glowering down impassively at the expansive innkeeper. Beside him, Scully folded her arms together, waiting with impatience. Geera looked from one to the other, then sighed dramatically. "Ahhh, for such special guests, we can perhaps make an arrangement. Say, seven silvers and five irons." Scully rapidly shot back, "Five silvers and three irons. Baths included." "Ahh, how can you expect us to support ourselves at such rates? Why, I have three daughters who must be married. Nay, we cannot take less than six silvers..." "And three irons," Scully broke in. Geera tossed her hands up in the air, as though appealing to the Gods for assistance, but Scully forestalled any more bargaining, by proffering the coins. Geera took one look, reached out a grimy hand and swept them up into her voluminous apron pocket. Once the payment had exchanged hands, she was all business, her pockmarked face grinning with pleasure. Scully could have argued her further down, with ease, which left the innkeeper feeling as though she had won a battle. Moments later, the three weary travelers found themselves settled into a suite of rooms. Spare of furnishings and decoration, the rooms were surprisingly clean. The floor and walls were made of paneled wood, holding the fresh sheen of recent cleansing. The furniture was simple and made of mismatched tones of wood. A large bed, the mattress draped with gray-toned, carefully mended linen, dominated the larger space, while the smaller one held two spare cots. An upright wardrobe, a square table and hard-backed chair took up the rest of the bigger chamber, one tiny glass-paned window set high in the wall above the headboard of the bed. With darkness falling outside, the only light was provided by a series of candles set in iron-cast holders in the corners of each room. Mulder quickly accented the light, tossing up a glowing blue ball of Mage- light to float a few inches below the ceiling. The sight of that luminous globe startled one of the serving girls as she carried in a handful of towels and a pitcher of water. Gasping, she nearly spilled the water, bobbing her head gratefully when Shannon retrieved the droplet-stained porcelain pitcher from her hands. Backing out the door, she then turned and fled down the stairs, leaving Mulder chuckling as he sprawled out on the bed. //Show-off!\\ Scully scolded him lightly, as she unpacked the few belongings she had carried upstairs with them. Shannon wandered into the second room, dumped her pack, then came back and plopped herself beside Mulder on the huge mattress. "I suppose I have to sleep in the other room," she complained, rubbing at the sore muscles of her thighs. "Yes, you've got it all to yourself," Scully told her firmly, though with a gentle smile. Shannon groaned, but didn't argue. Instead, she sat up and watched the petite woman move efficiently around the room. "I don't suppose you've got anything for cramped muscles, do you?" Scully smiled openly this time. "Yes, but it'll be more effective after your bath. Actually, soaking in the tub is the best cure anyway." Shannon couldn't help agreeing, still massaging the painful muscles as she watched the rest of their belongings being ported in by the same pair of boys who had taken charge of their horses. They were quickly followed by yet a third teenage girl, a slender, female version of her brothers, who shyly announced the bath was ready, even as her wide brown eyes soaked up every element of the newcomers' appearance. "I'm first!" Shannon announced, practically grabbing the girl by the arm and pushing her out into the hallway. Mulder and Scully exchanged smiles as they heard the echo of girlish conversation flowing away down the hall. - - - - - All three felt remarkably better after a bath and change of clothing, and they relocated down to the public bar in search of the promised dinner. This time they found the main room bustling with activity. Most of the tables were taken up by a large party of green- skinned trolls garbed in bright colors, an eye-catching, stomach- churning mix of reds, greens, blues and yellows. A few humans were scattered amongst the trolls, clustered together at the corner of the bar or seated in twos or threes at small tables. The trolls filled the room with a strident chatter, punctuated by the gulps and burps that signified their level of satisfaction with the fare. Trolls considered good food one of the greatest joys of life, and the more pleased they were, the more noise they made when they ate. By the level of the din this particular evening, it appeared that Geera's claims for her stew might not be so exaggerated. As they passed a food-preoccupied cluster of trolls, Scully's eyes widened. //They've got even worse clothes sense than you,\\ she teased Mulder. //Haha,\\ he retorted. //Very funny.\\ He eyed a particularly offensive combination of yellow, purple and orange worn by a massive male troll and winced. //My ties were never that bad!\\ Scully followed his eyes, then let her gaze roll away. //Perhaps not quite THAT bad,\\ she admitted, as they settled into their seats at an empty table set off in a corner. "Cut it out!" Shannon told them with affected irritation. "What?" Scully looked at her with confusion. "The silent talking," Shannon said. Mulder leaned forward across the table, fixing her with his keen hazel gaze. "You can hear us?" he asked. "No." Shannon shook her head, her recently washed hair spilling down her back in an ebony waterfall. "But I recognize the looks on your faces when you private-talk. It's like you're focused inside yourselves rather than on what's around you." "Is it that obvious?" Scully sighed. "Not really," Shannon grinned. "I doubt anyone who didn't know you both well would notice." "Well, that's a relief," Scully replied, ruefully returning the smile. "And I'm sorry, we'll try to do it less while you're with us." "Actually, it's okay," Shannon said. "I was just teasing. But it does get annoying sometimes to feel like I'm only getting half of the conversation." "We'll do our best to make sure you get it all," Mulder told her seriously, though his eyes twinkled with green highlights. "Well," he shot a quick look at Scully, "at least MOST of it!" Scully didn't bother with a psychic comment, she silently toed him under the table. Mulder shifted abruptly in his chair, giving her a wounded look, and both women chuckled at him. Further comment was forestalled by the arrival of one of the harried waitresses with three foaming glasses of the Realm's version of beer. Shannon lifted hers gingerly, eyeing it with distaste while Mulder threw back a large gulp of his. Scully grinned over the top of her at Shannon. "I don't like it much either, but at least the alcohol kills off anything that could make you sick in the local water. I have herbs I can use to make the water safer, but we're better off drinking this stuff tonight and saving those for tomorrow on the trip." "Come on, Scully. This stuff is pretty good. Maybe not quite as good as the old English ales I drank in Oxford, but it'll do in a pinch." Mulder chugged down about half his glass and sat back with a satisfied look on his face. Shannon threw him a disgusted look and sipped lightly at the foam of hers, lips pursed in a moue of distaste. Scully took a moderate swallow of her own, then lifted an amused eyebrow at her partner. "Better take it easy on that stuff, Mulder. Don't forget what happened last time you drank it while we were traveling." Mulder grimaced at her. "That wasn't my fault. He hit me while I was spell casting, and besides, I've got a lot more experience now." Shannon had been following this conversation closely, and while another young servant bustled up to deposit a huge lump of brown bread and a steaming pot of savory-smelling stew on the table between them, she demanded an explanation. While Scully ladled stew into their bowls, Mulder launched into the story of his first abortive attempt at using magic to stop a brawl. By the time he had finished, Shannon was laughing so hard tears streamed from her eyes. "Did he ever come down?" Mulder nodded, swallowing a spoonful of the stew. Tearing off a hunk of the bread, he answered with good humor. "Yeah, it wore off slowly, luckily for him. When we came down in the morning, he was lying flat on the floor passed out. He still glowed a bit, but I'd assume that went away in a day or two." Scully laughed between bites of bread. "Not that his companions waited to find out. They got out of there at first sign of dawn, all looking quite ill." "Serves them right," Mulder commented firmly. His expression darkened as he thought of the young elven maiden who had been assaulted by the group of mercenaries. He had a fierce protective streak when it came to young women, not that Scully didn't share his hatred for anyone who hurt an innocent. "Amen," she said, sending him a silent wave of love through their bond. His entire body relaxed, the dark storm in his eyes giving way to verdant good humor. Shannon simply nodded, busily wolfing down the surprisingly well-made stew. It had taken her a while to learn to like the more simple Realm-style diet, and she still ached sometimes for a Big Mac. However, there was nothing like an abundance of exercise and sunshine to stimulate the appetite. Mulder and Scully watched her with affection, then followed her sensible example. When they were finished eating, they walked out of the stifling, crowded inn and wandered down towards the lakeside. The streets wound jaggedly between the closely-set dwellings, most constructed of wood with straw-lined roofs. The pungent sap from a Realm-common tree served as the plaster to keep moisture from dripping through the roofs and between the side-planks, its odor mixing with the ever-present smell of raw fish. The lake itself was a dark sea beneath the moonlit sky, the reflection of the bright orbs shimmering on faint waves of that sheer surface. More than a dozen boats of various sizes and shapes floated along the water's edge, moored to small docks and rocks with long flaxen ropes. A small path wound along the docks, and the three stepped along it carefully, enjoying the coolness of the night breeze after the sultry heat of the day. To light their way, Mulder resorted to one of his first- learned spells. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed a small blue globe of light up into the air to hover just above their heads. Scully gave him a tender smile, leaning comfortably against the sinewy strength of his arm. He closed his fingers over hers, clasping them between his own and his forearm, pressing a soft kiss onto the top of her coppery head. Beside them, Shannon watched the luminous globe float and roll above their heads, then turned to Mulder. "Do you think I could learn how to do that?" Mulder gazed fondly down at the girl, whose amber eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity. "I think it's quite likely. If we get time on the next leg of the trip, I'll start teaching you the basics. It'll take a while before you're able to cast and control a spell, though." Shannon frowned with disappointment, then shrugged her shoulders lightly, the clouds fleeing her expression as quickly as they had come. Reaching up on tip-toe, she batted at the little blue ball, laughing as it bounced around the edges of her outstretched fingertips, bathing them in a pleasant warmth. Then she was off, running ahead of Mulder and Scully, darting in and out across the docks, happily absorbing her surroundings. "Don't go too far," Mulder warned, getting a short wave of acknowledgment in response. He sighed, then leaned his chin down on Scully's head. //She'll be all right,\\ Scully reassured him. //She's a lot smarter and tougher than she looks. After all she's been through...\\ //Yeah,\\ Mulder replied thoughtfully. //I know. She's lost a lot of that edge, though, in the past few months.\\ //You've done a wonderful job with her, you know...\\ Scully told him with affectionate sincerity. His mind reacted with surprise, then a rush of both pleasure and uncertainty. //I don't know. I'm hardly the best role model for her.\\ //You're a better role model than you think. You're a lot alike, Mulder, you and Shannon. You both had to grow up quickly. And you both question everything, wonder about how the world works, look past the surface to what lies beneath. She admires you very much.\\ Mulder was vocally and mentally silent for a moment, his quicksilver mind circling on itself. Finally, he opened to his bondmate, letting her feel his mix of emotion, a sincere affection for his young ward coming to the forefront. //She is special...she reminds me so much of...\\ The name didn't need to be spoken between them, a single image hovered simultaneously, instantly, in their minds - the solemn face of a raven-haired little girl with bright hazel eyes. //Yes,\\ Scully agreed, then added with typical understanding of the man at her side, //Caring for Shannon doesn't diminish your love for her, Mulder. We'll find her, someday. Maybe we'll even get to bring her here.\\ //God, I hope so, Scully.\\ Mulder's reply was soft and heartfelt, ringing between them with a lifetime's worth of devotion. //I'll make it so.\\ - - - - - Jhorgab found himself surrounded. The young troll stepped back, then spun around to face yet another human youth whose face was contorted with mocking rage. He had never seen such an expression before, it was as though the laughter was twisted on itself, skewed into something so devoid of humor that it became colder than ice. A shiver shook his portly frame, and he turned again, his long-fingered hands raised upwards in instinctive self- defense. Something struck hard in the middle of his back, and he stumbled almost to his knees, then jerked up and around, only to get hit again from another side. The boys' taunts surrounded him, and each dash in one direction was aborted as another stepped into his path, pushing him back again into the center of the square. "Let me go!" he yelled, only to receive another blow, this time striking the sensitive spot behind his large, knobby ear. "AAAANNNNGHHH!" he screamed, finally collapsing to the hard, packed earth of the village road. Curling inward on himself, he shuddered as several leather-booted feet kicked out at him in a relentless assault. "STOP!!!!" That fierce demand went unheard, until the source came running out of the shadows of the side-street brandishing a long silver-handled sword. Her long raven-black hair flowing behind her in silken waves, Shannon aimed the point of her weapon with deadly accuracy at the backside of the nearest boy. He screeched loudly as she punctured his skin, then withdrew, dancing away before he could turn to see who had attacked. She side-stepped in a quick, agile dance, holding the sword-hilt in both hands, the blade held up before her. Her caramel- colored eyes blazed like twin fires, shadowed by two heavy wings of her hair. She snarled at the nearest boy, her long-limbed body held poised for the attack. He took one look into her angry, determined face, dropped his eyes to the shimmer of the sword, turned on his heels and ran. The others jeered at him as he disappeared, the tallest of the remaining youths pumping up their courage with a flood of insults. "Cowards! Frightened by a mere girl." Staring with open lechery at Shannon, he walked brazenly towards her. "Hey little girl. Why doncha put down the little sword and come play with mine." Cupping his crotch, he boasted with a laugh, "After all, it's bigger!" His friends joined in his laughter, coming to face Shannon in a small cluster, moving slowly towards her. She didn't back off an inch, remained coldly balanced, rocking slightly from toe to heel. They got closer, and she tilted her head to the side, an apparently gentle smile curving her lips. "You really wanna play?" she teased. The lead youth laughed louder at her words, his own smile broadening, though his gray eyes never wavered, never lightened. Shannon drew the sword off to her side, and he instantly began to pounce...only to find the point of that silvery blade pressed tightly against his throat. Shannon flicked her wrist and he gasped, a small trickle of blood forming beneath his chin. The other boys paused, uncertain, waiting for some sign or signal of how to react. Shannon gave it to them, her eyes, body, and sword unmoving, she whispered with total confidence. "Try to touch me again and I'll carve you into little pieces, starting with that 'sword' you're so proud of. Got it?" The tall youth swallowed hard, then froze as the motion made the sword-point burrow deeper into his skin. But Shannon easily read the answer in his eyes, and before he could react further, she had spun away. His hand fled upwards to press into the tiny wound, then he turned and pushed his stunned companions away. They hardly needed encouragement, and in less than a few breaths, they were long gone. Shannon watched warily for a few moments, then she sheathed her sword and hurried over to the troll huddled on the ground. Just as she was reaching out to him, voices followed footsteps, crying her name. "Shannon!" "Here!" she yelled. Mulder burst into the small crossroads, his long blue cloak flapping around his ankles. His aura blazed around him, disturbed by his anxiety, casting a luminous blue glare over the entire scene, punctuated by the bobbing azure ball that hovered a few inches above his head. He came to a quick stop beside her, then turned to put out a hand towards Scully who came running up behind him. Scully clasped her hand over Mulder's forearm, then settled gracefully to her knees next to Shannon, never losing her momentum. Her fingers traced along the back of Mulder's hand before reaching out to reassure the terrified young troll. "It's all right," she soothed, following up her words with the soft mental chime of a healing chant, one designed to offer comfort and psychic ease. It took effect quickly, the bright youngster recognizing that these three people meant him no harm. The dark- haired fury had, after all, saved his life. Leaning into the support his savior offered, he studied her two companions with wide-spaced yellow eyes. The blue-cloaked man was standing above the flame- haired woman, watching with intense concentration, his eyes flickering from shadow to shadow, watching for any further sign of trouble. Dark tendrils of hair fell against his flat human brow, his thin human mouth pursed tight. While the troll could barely see the aura that must blaze around him, that long deep azure cloak spoke for it, declaring the unseen power borne within. The woman at his feet was dressed in warrior green, but he could already sense her healing talent. That combination startled him, and he fastened his eyes on her face, a bushy green eyebrow rising upwards beneath the heavy thrusting bone of his forehead. The expression was so comical that Shannon giggled, then caught herself, clamping her hand over her mouth and pretending to cough, as Scully shot her a restraining look. Jhorgab's attention, however, was fixated on the copper- haired woman and her male companion. Surely, it couldn't be, and yet - it had to be! He didn't understand, for the pair of legend had left the Realm season-cycles ago, following the end of the Great War, disappearing as mysteriously and suddenly as they had arrived. But who else could they be? For here was the fiery-haired woman with the double aura and the man of such power that even a troll's insensitive eyes could see the blaze of his aura lighting the darkness like a soft blue flame. The young troll's mouth opened in a wide "O," baring double rows of thick, broad teeth, his eyebrows sinking helplessly beneath the prominent brow-ridge. The expression of mixed shock and wonderment was read as panic by Scully and she reached out to reassure him. "It's all right. We mean you no harm. I'm a healer. With your permission, I can see to your wounds." Jhorgab simply stared at her speechless. He clamped his mouth shut when he belatedly realized it was gaping open, then worked his tongue over his teeth in a desperate attempt to form sensible words. "I....I...you...." He gazed from one concerned face to another, ending up eye to eye with an obviously amused Shannon. She winked broadly at him, and the dam finally broke. "Thank you kindly, Warrior-Healer, but I am not seriously harmed. I am shamed to say that I was more frightened than hurt, thanks indeed to this fine lady-warrior." He nodded gravely at Shannon, though he never stopped babbling for a second. "It was quite foolish of me to wander out on my own. Krolgar is always scolding me for doing such things, it is just that I get so curious about all I see. This is my first trip out of my home and I have seen so many wondrous things. Though none as wondrous as you, Travelers. I apologize for not greeting you properly at once, but I had not known that you had returned to the Realm. We have been on the road for so long that news is sometimes slow catching up with us. Krolgar was supposed to bring a Mage with us, but they are few among our people, compared to yours, and ours could not be spared from the responsibilities at home. So we have had to do without, which is a terrible shame, I must say..." All three humans were staring at him with stunned expressions on their faces, and he choked himself off in mid- sentence, giving them a sheepish look. //I'd forgotten how talkative trolls are,\\ Mulder told Scully, his features relaxing into a smile as the young troll managed to turn even greener with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," Jhorgab said. "Even Krolgar says I talk too much. But personally I think he talks far more than me..." "That's okay," Shannon broke in. She grinned at him. "I'd guess you're feeling better?" Jhorgab shyly nodded his head, then tried to sit up. Scully gently restrained him for a moment, closing her eyes in concentration as she took a more thorough check of his injuries. A few bruises, some of which might be sore the next day, but she was able to speed the healing process along. It took only a few minutes and a spare expenditure of psychic energy, and she was satisfied. His own body's natural processes would do the rest quite well on it's own, for he was young and healthy. Letting go, she got to her feet beside Mulder. He reached out to support her, and when she leaned happily against him, it was less from exhaustion than from the simple pleasure of being close to him. Shannon helped the young troll to his feet, then stood looking down at him from her superior height. "I'm Shannon," she said. "Ahhh, my apologies dear lady," Jhorgab said expansively. He bowed towards, groaning softly as he did so, but managing to come upright again without too much trouble. "My name is Jhorgab H'arlgrath K'hogrok, of the northern Yyrthwup - which you call The Black Forest. I am here on a trading mission with my Uncle Krolgar H'ourketh K'algrath." "Nice to meet you...ummm. Jhorgab H'alg ummm...Korgrak," Mulder spoke up before the young troll got rolling again, stumbling quickly over the heavy-consonants. "My name is Fox Mulder, and this is Dana Scully." Jhorgab gave them each a sweeping bow, as best his thick barrel-like frame could manage. Giving them a toothy smile, he responded with excitement. "Ahh, yes. Mage Mulder. I have heard much about you. The tales are told every year on the anniversary of the great victory. I was only a wren-troll at the time, barely old enough to comprehend, but many of my relatives fought in The Battle. I have heard their stories many many times. I can recite them all by memory," he boasted hopefully. "Perhaps, another time," Scully said politely, "but now I think it would be wise to return to the inn. It is your uncle's caravan that is staying in the Shoreside Inn?" "Why yes," Jhorgab bobbed his head at her. "And you are staying there as well?" At their nods, he managed to widen his already large grin. "Ahh, such is good fortune for us. I must introduce you to my Uncle before we leave for the South tomorrow." As the troll began to speak, Shannon gave him a nudge, and all four began to walk back down towards the docks. Mulder fell in step behind the other three, Scully and Shannon walking on either side of the gesticulating young troll. "South?" Shannon yelled out, as it seemed the only way to get Jhorgab's attention. The troll responded easily, as though she had done no more than talk softly in his broad, flat ear. "Why yes, we are going to through Jinderling to Fairwood Glens to trade with the elves in the Spring Market Fair, and then on to Yellowfork and Dreegan." He gazed at Shannon with barely concealed delight. "Could it be, My Lady, that you, too, are traveling along our path?" At Shannon's look of horror, Scully couldn't help laughing, a light musical chuckle that was echoed in her mind by Mulder's silent amusement. "Yes, it does appear we are headed in the same direction, at least as far as Dreegan." //I know trolls can be annoying, but it might not be a bad idea to try to hook up with the caravan. It will make us a lot less conspicuous,\\ Mulder suggested to Scully while she spoke aloud. Scully agreed, and continued without breaking stride, "... since we are going the same way for quite a while, do you think your uncle might be willing to let us travel with you?" Jhorgab bounced with excitement. "I do not know...for sure...but I think it is quite possible. Yes, yes, indeed. I will speak to him this very night, if he is not too drunk, that is. He does so like that human ale, so he drinks far too much of it whenever we stop for a night. But I will speak to him most urgently, for I think it would be a sign of great good fortune were the three of you to travel with us. Ah yes, it would be most auspicious to have you with us. And I do not see how Krolgar can object, since he has complained most bitterly about the absence of our own Mage who could not travel with us because a terrible storm had caused much damage that must need be repaired. So Krolgar has been most annoyed with the lack of a Mage to stand guard and to clear the road before us. He should be quite pleased to have you accompany us, Mage Mulder, for you are so much more powerful than any troll Mage I have ever seen." Jhorgab finally stopped long enough to gasp for breath, then he hurried on, bobbing his head at both women. "And he can hardly complain of the addition of two such warriors." He gave Shannon an awestruck look, "Why you, My Lady, are a sword- fighter of such talent as I have never seen in my short life. And you, Healer Scully, while we have our own healer, another is never amiss. For one never can tell what might happen on such a long journey. Ah yes, I will speak to Krolgar at once." By the time Jhorgab had finished his speech, they had arrived back at the inn. When they stepped inside, they were struck by a loud din of off-key troll voices raised in song, accompanied by the clatter of glasses against wooden table tops. The one or two remaining humans were scurrying out the door, even as Mulder and Scully entered, following Shannon and Jhorgab. The young troll paused just inside the door, looked around, then shouted piercingly over the horrendous noise into Shannon's ear. "Well, perhaps the morning would be a better time." End of Chapter Seven THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eight The morning dawned bright and early. The hot sun mercilessly burned away the fog rising from the lake, stirring the townspeople into vigorous activity. The fisherman had left in the pre-dawn, but there was much to do on the homefront. The previous day's catch had to processed, dried and salted, or stored away in magically-chilled boxes for shipment to other settlements. It had been a late night for the three travelers, as the trolls had drunk and sung raucously, late into the night. Mulder awoke to the jangling sound of voices in the hall, feeling as though he had closed his eyes only moments before. Groaning, he rolled over, snuggling closer to Scully's warm, soft body, burying his face in the perfume-scented tumble of her auburn hair. Half-asleep, she muttered his name, turning to wrap her arms around his waist. Her mouth caught the edge of his jaw, then settled on the long arch of his neck. The promise of that treat woke her even more than a jarring crash in the hallway outside their door, and she began to lick and nibble at the taut skin. Mulder moaned beneath her, the sound half a protest at being woken from his sleep and half an encouragement. She ignored his response, too busy devouring the sinewy expanse of muscle and tendon that shifted beneath his satiny skin where his shoulder met his neck. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his legs slide across hers, bringing into the cradle of his thighs so that her belly rested closely against his groin. The burgeoning hardness she felt there made her own groin tingle with anticipation, and she began to run her fingertips up the length of his spine. //Good morning,\\ he whispered into her mind, the simple concept flowing on a wave of love and appreciation. //Mmmmm,\\ was all she sent back, sighing aloud as he returned her caresses, sliding one hand between their bodies to tease the rosy crest of her breast. A sudden sharp banging on the door was a too-short prelude to its flying open to admit a bouncing Jhorgab, his yellow eyes flashing with exhilaration. "Mage Mulder, Healer Scully, Lady Shannon!!" he shouted, bouncing up and down in the open doorway, only to stop short when he took in the appearance of the Mage and the healer. Wrapping the sheets around her, Scully turned to face him, still clasped in her lover's arms. Her sapphire eyes glared at him with surprise and obvious irritation through a tangle of burnished red hair. The young troll's eyes fled in embarrassment from her face, only to focus with bemusement on the exceedingly long expanse of Mulder's legs, stretched out bare on the mattress. He'd known humans had unusually spindly limbs, but these seemed remarkably thin and far too lengthy even for a human. How could the Mage possibly balance on them? Yet the Mage had appeared to move with extreme grace the night before. Magic! Jhorgab seized on the answer with great self- satisfaction. It had to be magic which allowed Mulder to balance on such improperly-sized legs. The little troll grinned. "What is it?" Scully demanded, seizing his attention away from his thoughts. Jhorgab's yellow eyes flew back to her face, and he bobbed his head apologetically at her. "Ummm, so sorry to disturb you Healer. Mage. But I was able to talk to Krolgar this morning and he is willing to speak with you. The dawn is past, and there is much trading to be done. So you must hurry and come now." //That was surprisingly short,\\ Mulder commented dryly to Scully. She threw him a sharp glance, then nodded formally at Jhorgab, somehow managing to keep her dignity intact. "Thank you, Jhorgab. Please tell your uncle that we will join him shortly." "Yes, Lady Healer. I will go tell him at once. He will await you in the dining room...." "That's good, Jhorgab. We'll see you soon." Mulder spoke definitively, cutting the troll's speech short. One glance at the Mage's set face and he decided a quick retreat was the better part of valor. Nearly leaping backwards, Jhorgab yanked the door shut behind him and scurried on down the hall. Mulder leaned back against the pillows with a sigh of frustration, rubbing at his eyes. //So much for our morning in bed.\\ His lower lip thrust outwards as he favored her with a look of disappointment. Scully chuckled at him, reaching down to stroke the dark locks of hair resting across his brow. //Guess we'll just have to make up for it later.\\ She gave him a dimpled smile which made her eyes glitter like sapphires, then dropped the sheet and stretched out languorously, yawning, extending both hands up towards the ceiling. His eyes snapped to her, focusing hard, then he slowly sat up to face her, reaching out to entwine his fingers with hers. //Do that again and you can forget later...\\ he growled into her mind, his thoughts awash with the liquid heat of his desire and appreciation. Her mouth curving in a slower, closed smile, she leaned in to him so that their mouths were almost touching, tightening her fingers around his. The hardened tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest, stirring the passion pouring between their minds and bodies. //Oh...yeah...\\ she murmured back, tasting the air from his lungs on her tongue, her eyes pinning his, and she began to rub against him. //Mmmhhhhuhhh\\ He gave up trying to form words, especially since they had never been that necessary between them. His photographic memory had a catalogue of images that he was more than ready to share, anxious to reproduce, augmented by the vividness of his imagination. Their lips touched, the rings on their fingers flashed blue and green fire, and then... "HEY, who was at the door..." Shannon stepped through the connecting door, rubbing at her eyes, then lowered her hands and stared. Her mouth fell open, and her hand flew up to cover it, attempting hopelessly to mask her giggles, while Mulder and Scully fell into a tangle amidst the sheets. Scully buried her face in Mulder's chest, her skin burning with embarrassment while Mulder swore vehemently into her mind. //DAMN IT!!! Can't we get ANY privacy around here?\\ - - - - - A quick half-candlemark later, the three humans went downstairs to find the Inn's main room turned into trading center. The trolls' wares were spread out on nearly every free surface, glittering jewelry and painted wooden tools sharing space with bundles of fine fabrics. Only the bar was free of merchandise, its scarred surface burdened instead with nourishment for the troll traders and their clients. Snagging a piece of fruit as she passed by, Shannon followed Mulder's tall figure as he pushed his way through the busy crowd, searching for Jhorgab's portly figure. "MAGE MULDER!!!" A piercing shout rose above the clatter, drawing Mulder's keen gaze towards the far corner. Jhorgab must have been standing on a chair or a table, as his thick-skulled head and broad torso appeared above the heads of his companions, his large hands waving frantically in mid-air. When he realized he had their attention, he grinned, urging them towards him with rapid gestures. Placing his hand on the small of Scully's back, Mulder guided her before him, Shannon slipping through the crowds easily in their wake. As they broke through to Jhorgab, the young troll hopped down and hurried over to take Mulder's arm. "This way, this way," he chattered at them. Krolgar rose when his nephew approached him with the three strangers, a slender, blue-cloaked human male towering over the small troll. Two human women followed, one with hair the color of the setting sun and warm-toned skin, the other dark-haired, olive- skinned. Krolgar bowed politely to the tall man, studying him intensely as he returned the greeting with easy grace. Despite the blue cloak, there did not appear to be anything so remarkable about this man. While Krolgar had fought in the great battle, he himself had never had the opportunity to meet the Great Mage or his life- bondmate. But he had seen the effects of Mage Mulder's power, as had everyone else in the Last Battle, and he found it hard to square that extraordinary display with the ordinary-looking man facing him. Jhorgab was excitedly urging the youthful-appearing Mage and his female companions into chairs, and Krolgar continued to study him. Despite a gangly appearance, with elongated arms and legs, Mulder moved with agility and grace, settling into his seat with a spare economy of motion. Krolgar knew human standards of beauty well enough to know that this face with its high flat forehead and arching cheekbones, the bones standing in strong relief beneath the fair skin, would be considered attractive, if not beautiful. But it was the eyes, which met Krolgar's intent yellow regard with calm assurance, that won some opening measure of respect. Piercing emerald glints within a sea of brown spoke of both intelligence and humor, qualities the troll merchant was pleased to find. "Thank you for seeing us this morning," Mulder said gravely. "I know this is a busy time." "Ahhh, I'm always glad to be of service," Krolgar replied with equal politeness. "Please join us in some tea and refreshments." He gestured to Jhorgab who rushed to serve the steaming beverage, placing the white-glazed mugs before Mulder first, then Scully and Shannon, before his Uncle and finally himself. Only when all five had taken sips of the potent brew did conversation resume. "Jhorgab tells us that you are going south to Fairwood Glens to trade with the elves," Mulder said, grasping his cup with one hand, while he rested the other negligently on the table top. "We are also headed there ourselves, to speak with Prince Mavor about certain personal business. Since we are both traveling to the same place, at the same time, we thought it might be worthwhile to travel together. We would be glad of the company, and I think we could, perhaps, be of some service to you." Krolgar gazed at him solemnly. "Perhaps so," he said grudgingly. Actually, if this man was indeed a proper Mage, whether he was the powerful one he claimed to be or not, they were in great need of his services. The trip ahead was long, and fraught with dangers, and the experienced merchant had been deeply uneasy about proceeding without a magician's help. Even so, he was suspicious of the man's claim to be whom he said he was. Certainly, he wore the Blue with confidence, and the woman at his side had some resemblance to the fabled Warrior-Healer, but it wasn't enough to convince Krolgar that they were who they said they were. Jhorgab drew in a deep breath, sensing his uncle's reluctance. Krolgar was by nature highly conservative and suspicious, and the youngster had had a difficult time getting his Uncle to accept that these humans might be who Jhorgab was convinced they were. "Uncle..." he began, but Krolgar shut him off with a sharp glance. "I can certainly use an extra pair of guards," he said doubtfully, looking from Scully to Shannon as though uncertain that two small human females could be of much use, then he focused his bright yellow eyes back on Mulder's face. "And a Mage would be useful on the journey." He tapped his five-inch fingers together, considering. "We would, of course, be expected to feed and shelter you in return for your assistance." Mulder agreed. "Yes, though we do have our own horses and bedding, as well as some basic supplies, including our own weapons." "Good," Krolgar replied. He paused, then his eyes narrowed, his tufty green eyebrows colliding above his flat nose. "I would like some assurance as to your ability before making any agreement, however." Jhorgab gasped and Shannon sat up straight in her chair, her entire body stiffening. But Mulder simply leaned back in his chair and inclined his head at the cautious merchant. "Of course," he said, casually lifting his cup to take another sip of his tea. "How would like to proceed?" "Can't you just read his aura?" Shannon asked, her voice edged with irritation at the slight to her beloved guardian. Jhorgab leaped in to answer her, shaking his large head vigorously. "No, no, dear Lady. I am afraid that we trolls have only limited sensitivity to auras unlike the elves and some humans and gargoyles. It is a shame, indeed, but we see only the faintest echo..." "Yes, well," Krolgar interrupted his nephew with an air of fond irritation. "I am sure the village Reader will be willing to confirm your aura for us." He glanced sharply at Mulder, who again nodded with calm assurance. "Good, then as soon as we have that assurance, we can talk further about the details of our arrangement. We plan to leave at dawn on the morrow, if that is satisfactory for you?" "Very," Mulder agreed. "Good," Krolgar said again, getting ponderously to his feet. He was massive, even for a troll, his barrel-shaped torso wider than the trunk of an oak tree. "I will send the innkeeper for the village Reader, in the meantime, you are welcome to stay and eat." Bowing to them with solemn politeness, he lumbered across the room to accost the harried innkeeper behind the bar counter, the crowd splitting before him. "I apologize deeply for my Uncle's doubts, Mage Mulder," Jhorgab said frantically as soon as Krolgar was out of earshot. He gestured widely. "He does not know the tales as well as I do, and though he fought in the Great Battle, he never was honored to see you or Healer Scully at the time. He does not mean any deliberate offense..." "It's all right, Jhorgab," Scully spoke up for the first time, having let Mulder do the talking, since most of the burden of the arrangement with the troll merchant would fall upon his shoulders. Her smile was genuine as she looked to the anxious young troll. "He has every right to assure himself that we can deliver what we promise. And the village Reader will have no trouble seeing Mulder's aura. We had not realized that trolls had difficulty in reading them." Jhorgab bobbed his head sadly. "Ahhh, yes. It is so. Elves have always been by far the best at seeing such things. I believe that the ability varies widely among both the gargoyles and humans such as yourself..." he paused to let them nod agreement with him, then continued. "But among my people, the talent is quite rare. I have some slight touch of it, which is why I can see just the faintest tinge of your aura, Mage Mulder." He spread his hands wide, shaking his head. "Such is as it must be. Once the Reader has confirmed you, Mage, then my Uncle will be satisfied. He is simply cautious by nature." "Not a bad thing to be," Scully replied warmly. "Do you think he will want to read Shannon and myself as well?" Jhorgab shook his head. "No, I do not think there is need. It is a Mage we need most desperately, and which must be verified." "Then if you don't mind, I'm going to go out to the stables and check on our horses. Mine seemed to be limping slightly when we came in yesterday and I want to make sure it wasn't serious." //Turning veterinarian?\\ Mulder teased fondly. //Certainly, unless you like the idea of riding double the rest of the way.\\ //I wouldn't mind,\\ he replied with an arched eyebrow. She grinned and gave him the mental equivalent of kick in the shin. He winced and she laughed. "Behave yourself, Mulder," she said aloud, getting up from her seat. "Don't worry," Shannon answered, winking at her. "I'll keep an eye on him for you." Mulder tossed a cloth napkin at her, though he couldn't help chuckling as he did so. Scully tousled his hair affectionately, then turned and slipped away easily, her petite figure disappearing quickly from view. When she was out of his sight, Mulder felt his stomach turn over, his entire body tensing. "Is something wrong?" Jhorgab asked as he saw the Mage's verdant eyes turn black. Mulder glanced up sharply, then forced himself to relax. "No," he answered, frowning, "No, it's nothing." He managed a slight smile, which appeased the troll, but did not satisfy Shannon. She gazed intently at him, and he gave her a barely perceptible shake of his head. "I'm fine," he reassured her. She cocked her head at him, not fully believing him, but already he was turning to watch Krolgar pushing his way back towards their table. - - - - - Five pairs of eyes watched as the lovely, auburn haired woman knelt beside the large dun-colored horse, her small, yet capable hands massaging the animal's right foreleg. Her blue eyes were shuttered in concentration, her body swaying slightly to an internal rhythm as she worked. She did not respond as they moved closer, shifting among the shadows of the old barn, signaling each other with smirks and winks, carefully hiding their mocking laughter behind dirty hands. Their self-appointed ringleader eyed his intended prey with gluttonous eyes, for he had been deprived of the previous evening's fun by a dark-haired fury, the thought of which only fed the fire of the rage boiling in his gut. Neither he nor any of his comrades thought twice of what they were about to do. Like many of the Realm's youth, their immature minds were easily turned to hatred and self-satisfaction by the malaise that had spread like a cancer throughout the land in the past few weeks. The only thought that ran in circles through their heads was the desire of the moment, to take what they saw in front of them with no regard for law or consequences. And so they converged upon their unknowing victim, her clever mind so focused on the task at hand, that she saw nothing, heard nothing, until they were already upon her. - - - - - Shannon was chatting happily with Jhorgab when Krolgar returned, trailed by a plump, tiny matron, dressed in a elaborately- embroidered yellow tunic and red leggings. The sharp points of elven ears poked up amidst a mane of platinum curls, and her bright green eyes were clear and steady. Jhorgab and Shannon's conversation broke off quickly as they approached, both staring up with open curiosity at the newcomer. Krolgar offered her a seat with great politeness, then pointed to Mulder with a beringed, elongated forefinger. "This is the one, Reader Murtha." She nodded and gazed openly at the blue-cloaked man who was relaxing in his chair, his face coolly inexpressive. Without sitting up straight, Mulder inclined his head towards her in acknowledgment, then abruptly, like the sun breaking through the clouds, he smiled. "What would you like me to do, Reader?" he asked, his warm voice rich with barely restrained good humor. Murtha smiled in return, pleased to find herself reading someone who did not seem discomfited by the process. Most people, no matter how confident of who they were, could not help being nervous when being Read by an expert. But she could already sense that this man was not disturbed by the process at all. Glancing around her, she found a blank wall that while not completely white, was at least a dull, unremarkable shade of gray. Turning back to Mulder, she asked him politely to go stand against it. The corners of his mouth uplifted with amusement, he did as she requested. She followed him over, standing dwarfed in front of him, the top of her head barely reaching his belly button. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to still her mind and focus her senses, then instructed him to relax his shields. Mulder nodded, leaning his back against the wall and letting his own eyes shut as he made a quick, well-practiced mental shift. It took no more than a second for him to release the tight barriers he had learned to hold around the power that ran through his veins like electricity through a powerline, and he could feel it surge outwards, swirling against his controls like a wild creature, desperate for its freedom. Murtha 'felt' that release, and the sense of power almost overwhelmed her even before she opened her eyes. The moment she did so, she cried out, throwing up an arm to shade her eyes. The Blue glow that surrounded this man was so strong it dazzled her eyes, burned its way into her mind, leaving a thousand sparks to flutter across the insides of her clamped eyelids. Gasping, she stumbled to her knees, sobbing out, "Shield, shield, you must shield!" But before Mulder could reign in the force that raged around him, coating his figure with a glorious blue flame, a wrenching scream shattered into every inch of his mind and soul. //MULDER!\\ //SCULLY!\\ he cried, both verbally and psychically, his entire body shaking with panic. He felt every measure of her experience, the sudden break in concentration, a sharp stab of pain and surprise, followed by a jolt of fear and anger. Then there was silence, an emptiness where the vivid presence of her mind should be, the other half of his soul turning cold with her abrupt absence. "SCULLY!" he yelled again, and then he was running, physically throwing people out of the way as he blindly flew towards his last sense of his bondmate's presence. "Mulder!" Shannon called after him, even as she broke into a run, forcing her way into the space left by his passing, leaping over people and objects that had fallen to the ground in his wake. The trolls were slower to follow, Krolgar stopping to give the shaken elf a hand up before dragging her after the rampaging Mage. - - - - - Mulder broke out into the yard, swung to his left, and ran towards the stables, his mind awash with horror. Whatever had happened to Scully had been too quick for him to catch more than a glimpse of it, and the empty silence at the end of their life-bond terrified him more than anything else could ever have done. She was still alive, that much he knew, and he held to that precious understanding like a drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood. Without her life itself would lose all meaning, and the pain of that loss would be more than he could tolerate and remain sane. Even the possibility of it made his stomach tie up in knots, the cramp in his belly almost doubling him over in agony as he ran towards the last image he had received from her mind before it had been torn away in a sudden flash of pain. His breath burned his lungs, his skin leached blue sparks, the air around him glittering as though filled with a thousand tiny blue fireflies. "Scully, Scully, Scully...." he moaned her name over and over, as he dashed across the few small yards between the Inn and its stable. At last, he broke through the wide, wooden doors which led to the musty smelling stables, the air thick with the scent of animal sweat and manure. His eyes darkened to pure ebony, the storm in them echoed in the air, the daylight fleeing before a roiling mass of clouds that burst upon the sky above, showering the yard behind him with buckets of ice-cold rain. He stood framed in the doorway, poised on the balls of his feet, his form and features framed with azure brilliance, forcing all who followed to hide their eyes. Lightning flashed, striking the ground a spare inch behind his feet with a deafening roll of thunder, and then he moved again, bolting swiftly into the shelter of the barn. The crash of thunder forced the five youths to pause in their assault upon their unconscious victim, all turning to face the avenger who leaped upon them with hardly a second's notice. Mulder's cry was torn from his lips, a sound barely human, the intensity of his rage boiling the very blood in his veins. His hands closed on the nearest boy with hands made powerful by emotion and magic, tossing the hapless thug several feet in the air, before reaching for the next. The remaining three scattered away from him, but were halted in their tracks by a single command, their legs frozen in a swirl of blue fire that wound first around their ankles, then coursed up across their entire bodies, imprisoning them in a cage of threaded flame. Another sharp word sliced the air, accentuated by a violent clap of thunder from the raging storm outside, and all five were lifted up into the air and gathered together into a tight bundle of terrified humanity. Cowering in abject terror they shielded their eyes from the fury that faced them, Mulder's tall, slender form framed by a shimmering column of white and blue light. As he reached his hands towards the roof of the barn, his velvet voice flowed outward in a hypnotic, driving rhythm. Behind him, Shannon, the trolls, and the elven Reader stopped short in the doorway, eyes shielded behind upraised arms, clothes and hair soaked through from the torrential rain. "Mulder!" Shannon tried to call out, but he was beyond hearing, beyond anything but wreaking vengeance for the pain inflicted on his beloved one. And so he chanted, the clatter of rain, the crash of thunder, the rush of the air itself providing harmony to the demands of his call. He weaved the very elements themselves into his spell, wrapping himself in power so intense that the earth itself shook beneath his feet. His voice rose, louder, rasping against the edge of his physical limits, until with one last hoarse exclamation, he gestured with hands coated in strands of pure energy, lightning bolts lancing from his fingertips to strike the trapped five boys in rapid succession. Their voices clamored in shrieks of terror and agony, as the light surrounding them intensified to the point that none of the onlookers could do more than cover their eyes and turn away. The sounds erupted into high-pitched screams, then with one last clap of thunder, were silenced. Huddled in the doorway, shaking with cold, Shannon, Murtha, Krolgar and Jhorgab waited for a seeming eternity before daring to lift their heads. Shannon was the first to open her dazed eyes, bolting to her feet when she realized that the storm had abated as quickly as it had arose, leaving clear daylight to filter down upon the sea of mud that moments before been a neatly tended courtyard. Turning to stare into the barn, she saw Mulder bent on his knees beside a still form on the hay-covered floor, and with a sob, she raced to his side. "Scully?" she gasped as she fell to her knees beside the now-spent Mage. "She's alive," Mulder breathed the words through a raw throat and parched lips, his powerful hands now tender as they stroked the red strands of hair away from his bondmate's face. He lifted her up across his lap, cradling her head against his chest. "She's alive..." he whispered again, tears streaking unnoticed down his cheeks. His eyes fell on the rips in her clothing and the bruises forming along her jaw and temple, and his expression darkened yet again. The sky darkened in response, and Shannon reached instantly, anxiously to soothe him down. "We'd better get her inside and call a healer," she told him breathlessly, praying he had calmed down enough to listen. She didn't know what exactly had just happened, but she knew she did not want it repeated. But Mulder, as grief-stricken as he was, heard the calm sense in her words, and nodded without turning to look at her. Taking Scully up into his arms, he got to his feet and turned towards the door. Bearing his precious burden, he walked unheeding past the trolls, across the yard, and into the Inn. Not a soul dared stand in his way, all scurrying out of his path. Shannon followed quickly, leaving Murtha and the two trolls to stare into the barn with shocked eyes. The horses were all grouped into the far corner, neighing with terror, sweat dripping from their hides, as they jockeyed for position as far away from the center of the barn as possible. The three onlookers felt their own sweat mingle with the water drenching their clothes as their dilated eyes focused belatedly on the only other living inhabitants of the barn. In the space held only seconds before by five young men were five large waterhogs, squealing in panic as they circled each other, their round pink snouts nosing helplessly at the crumpled remnants of clothing laying tattered beneath their hooves. - - - - - The town meeting room was crammed from wall to wall with people, humans squeezed next to elves, mixed with a strong contingent of the visiting trolls. Most sat uncomfortably on the hard wooden stools, while others remained standing, pressed up against the walls and crammed into the tight corners. The air was hot and heavy with more than the press of bodies, tempers were raised, voices shouting one over another until they were indistinguishable from the general clamor. Here and there a word would rise above the others, one following senselessly behind another in a raging tumult. Scully leaned against Mulder's shoulder, feeling his own exhaustion as heavily as she felt her own. The troll healer had done a fine job of easing her bruises and curing her headache, though she knew she'd have a painful lump on the side of her head for at least a couple days. Still, it was nothing she couldn't handle. The worst hadn't been her own injuries, it had been Mulder's awakened horror at nearly losing her. They had come closer than this to losing each other before, but each time it happened, the agony of the possible loss seemed to increase. As the bond between them strengthened, the possibility of separation, injury or death became a more potent threat. Try as he might, Mulder had been unable to hide from her the terror of those moments when he had felt her cry for help, then had found her laying senseless on the barn floor. She still didn't have full comprehension for what he had done then, perhaps because it was hardly clear in his own mind, but she knew it had been terrible for him. And the consequences were clear. The parents of the five boys who had assaulted her were up in arms over the bespelling of their precious sons into waterhogs, which had soon precipitated the present chaotic situation. Scully sighed, wishing desperately that she and Mulder could be curled up in their bed, any bed, asleep in each other's arms, rather than seated on those hard, backless stools listening to people scream insults at one another. Mulder shifted on his stool, his arms tightening around her shoulder. She nestled her head against his chest, reaching up to twine her fingers with his. He nuzzled the top of her head, his gratitude for her presence, warm and alive against him, bathed her mind in a soft glow, and she responded with an unconditional flow of love and reassurance. //I'm all right,\\ she told him yet again, not begrudging him the need to hear it. If it had been the other way around...no...she shied away from that thought, unable to bear even the possibility of it. //I love you,\\ he told her, perhaps for the dozenth time since she had woken in their bed that afternoon. //I love you, too,\\ she replied, squeezing, then releasing his fingers. The village council was desperately trying to regain control of the meaning, and she turned her attention to the gray-haired elder as he pounded on the table. "SILENCE!!!" The elder's gravely voice demanded respect, and finally won it. With a few last grumbling comments thrown out from scattered corners of the room, a heavy quiet descended on the room. When the last voice had stilled, leaving only the sounds of a hundred lungs drawing air, the elder stood up straight and spoke slowly and clearly. "All who wish to speak may do so, but singly and without disturbance. The next person to shout out of turn will be removed from this assembly, is that clear?" There were a few grumbles amidst a muttering swell of approval, but the elder's steel gaze was unrelenting as he swept the room. When he was satisfied he was understood by all present, he nodded and waved his hand at an unkempt woman standing by the edge of the dais. "All right Ubeena, you may speak now." "About time," she muttered, before turning to shout out at the group. "This is an outrage. My boy has been bespelled against his will by a power-mad Mage. My Gort was an innocent youth, barely in his teens, he would never hurt anyone. I DEMAND that he be returned to himself and that the one responsible for this outrage be punished!" Nodding in satisfaction at her own words, she plopped back down onto her stool, amidst a groundswell of murmurs. The Elder stood again, his firm stance silencing the noise before it broke out into shouts again, then he waved at a man standing in the center of the room. "Ubeena may be able to fool herself about her son's character, but anyone with any sense knows full well that these 'boys' have been nothing but trouble to all decent citizens. Barely a week before this, they assaulted my little girl while she was taking medicine to her aunt. If her cousin had not been nearby, who knows what they might have done to her? They have terrorized all of the younger children, and caused trouble with many visitors to this village. Now they have attacked a healer during her trance, a very serious crime. They could have killed her, or worse, left her mind trapped within the animal she was attempting to heal. It is time we stopped making allowances for them. The Mage was well within his rights to protect the life of his life-bondmate. No man would have done differently. Personally, I find the chosen punishment both fair and sensible. Since the boys act like animals, let them live like animals." "Liar!" Ubeena was on her feet, screaming at the top of her very capable lungs. "You are jealous because my Gort is a strong young man, and you can only father weaklings." "That's enough!" the elder shouted, but another of the parents was on his feet shouting out his rage. "How dare you insult my Fehrek that way! He was a good boy! Make the evil Mage pay for what has been done to him." "Fehrek was a spoiled brat, who needed a good thrashing instead of being doted on by a fool like you, Fergan," someone jeered from the back of the room. "SILENCE!!!" The elder shouted again, but this time no one listened to him. The argument exploded, fists being raised in anger, until a clear, bell-like voice rang out above it all. "That is enough! Stop this at once." The crowd parted, shouts dying off in mid-air to allow the tiny figure of Murtha to walk through to the dais. Two men hurried forward to help her up to the center of the platform, then stood back as she straightened her tunic, then turned to face the waiting crowd. "This kind of behavior is unacceptable. We are acting like fools, ruled by whims rather than good sense. There is not a person in this room, even you, Ubeena, who does not know, truly, that these boys were great trouble for the village." Murtha silenced Ubeena with a fiery emerald glance, forcing the woman to sit back down on her stool, glowering helplessly as the little elf continued to speak. "This is not the first time they have deliberately caused injury to others, and they should have been held accountable long before this. We should never have allowed it to reach the point that they felt they could attack a healer with impunity. And we should be gratefully that Healer Scully was no more hurt than she was. Nonetheless, this is a serious crime, and should be dealt with severely. It is a shame that Mage Mulder had to act as he did, but I can find no fault with his choice of punishment. In fact, these boys and their families should be grateful that he chose to let them live at all, for it would have been well within his rights to take their lives in payment for the injuries done to his life-bondmate. Few men, and even fewer Mages would have shown such mercy. If I were you, Ubeena, I would get down on your knees and thank the Goddess for helping the Mage show such restraint." The elf turned towards Mulder and Scully, listening intently to her, Scully still nestled into Mulder's arms. "I apologize Mage Mulder and Healer Scully for this shameful occurrence. I assure you it will not happen again." Her emerald eyes traveled firmly across the room, stopping to blaze at each parent, silencing their protests without a word being spoken. With quiet dignity, she hopped down from the platform and walked back to her seat. There was silence for a moment, then Ubeena finally whined, "But what about my boy?" "Let him stay as he is for a while. Goddess knows it's an improvement in his appearance, at least," another voice ridiculed from the center of the crowd. Laughter broke out widely, breaking the tension in the room. The elder pounded for quiet again, though he, too, could not help smiling at the quip. When most of the mirth had quieted off, Mulder relaxed his hold on Scully and stood up, signaling the elder that he wanted to speak. The elder nodded at him. "Thank you," Mulder told him politely, pausing to choose his words with care. "It would be senseless to blame the entire village for the actions of five boys, but if you knew they were a danger, then you should have acted sooner to restrain them from causing harm. For that I do hold you all responsible. Healer Scully could have been killed or seriously injured if I had not been able to get to her in time, and I will not apologize for my actions towards these young men. They are old enough to know what they did was wrong. The spell I put on them should wear off within in a moon- cycle. However, if I ever hear that they have hurt another innocent person again, I promise you, I will return, and this time the spell will be permanent. I leave it to you to decide how to handle them once the spell has run its course." Bowing to the elder, Mulder sat back down on his stool. Scully took his hand in hers, sending him a wave of support and approval thought their bond. There were nods of approval throughout the room, spotted here and there with frowns, mostly from relatives of the five youths. The elder bent his gray head to whisper with the other members of the council, then he stood up tall on the dais. "It is the decision of this council that the punishment meted out by Mage Mulder for the assault upon Healer Scully is acceptable and just. Gort, Fehrek, Lorgan, Kiplin, and Bavin will remain in their transformed state until the spell wears off naturally. Hopefully, by that time they will have learned their lesson. In the meantime, on behalf of the entire village, we offer Healer Scully our apologies and sincere well wishes." "Thank you," Scully said softly, just glad that the entire event seemed to coming to a close. Her head was beginning to ache again, and all she wanted was the warmth of her bed. As if in answer to her unspoken wishes, the elder pounded once more on the table and declared the meeting closed. Mulder gathered her up wrapping his arm around her, and guided her through the rows of stools, pressed in on every side by the mass of beings all attempting to leave at once. Just as they stepped out gratefully into the fresh night air, a cold whisper sounded in her ear, and then was gone. "You'll pay for this..." - - - - - By the time Mulder, Scully and Shannon had returned from the town meeting, Krolgar had most of the caravan packed and ready to go. Mulder's display that morning had been more than convincing, it had, indeed, been truly frightening. But the troll merchant had a solid head on his massive shoulders, and it did not take much thinking to recognize just how much use a Mage of such power could be. If, Goddess forbid, they ran into bandits or other dangers, Mulder's wild talent could be the difference between life and death. So even though Krolgar's skin blanched a pale chartreuse at the thought of suffering through another Mage storm such as the one he had just witnessed, he was not willing to give up the additional safety Mulder's presence would obviously provide. Therefore, when Mulder and the two women returned to the Inn, they found the troll merchant waiting for them, wringing his hands in distress, yet overflowing with well-wishes. "I am so glad that you are unhurt, Healer Scully, and also that these foolish human villagers have come to their senses. To allow younglings to behave in such a frightful manner, well, it is most shocking. Most shocking." "Thank you Krolgar," Scully said wearily. "Please tell Gyruth that I very much appreciate his efforts to ease my wounds today. He is a fine healer and I am quite grateful." Krolgar smiled expansively. "Ahh, I will tell him so, and he will be most delighted with praise from such a fine healer as yourself. But then, you can also tell him yourself. For we will be traveling together, will we not?" Mulder gave him a surprised look. Although he had not given it much thought, Mulder had simply assumed that after his display of magical histrionics that morning, no sane person would want him around for long. Excepting Scully and Shannon of course. "Are you sure you want us with you?" he asked. Krolgar bobbed his head. "Of course. There can be no doubt of your ability, Mage Mulder." The troll's eyebrows climbed up under his brow ridge as though accentuating the understatement. "I see no reason for us not to proceed as planned. In fact, I had hoped that, with your acceptance, we will leave here within the hour." "Tonight? But why not wait until after we have a good night's sleep?" Mulder eyed Scully with great concern, taking in the paleness of her complexion and the heavy shadows beneath her unusually dull eyes. More than anything else, he wanted to get her into bed and hold her while she slept. "Mulder," Scully spoke softly, unable to disguise her weariness. "I'm afraid Krolgar may be right. I think we should leave tonight." "You're exhausted, Scully. You need rest," Mulder insisted. "Mulder's right," Shannon seconded, looking at the older woman with heartfelt concern. "You really need to get some sleep." "She can sleep in one of our wagons," Krolgar offered. He waved expansively. "You can all three do so, if you wish. We can easily bring along your horses and supplies, so that you can ride again once you have gotten some sleep. There is plenty of room, if you do not mind resting upon bundles of cloth." "Thank you, Krolgar," Scully told him. Seeing Mulder was about to protest, she reached up to touch his lips gently. //Mulder, I think it would be a good idea to leave here quickly. While most of the villagers accept that you did the right thing this afternoon, there are a few who are angry. Perhaps this is another symptom of the general unease in the Realm, such as you saw in Fawnleaf, I don't know. But I think we would be safer if we left here tonight.\\ //Are you sure?\\ Mulder questioned. "Yes, I'm sure," Scully said aloud, trying to include Shannon in the conversation. She turned to smile at the young girl. "I think it would be safer if we left here as soon as possible. I can sleep as well in one of the wagons as I could in any bed tonight. Right now I'm so tired, I think I could sleep upright in the saddle." "That will not be necessary, healer," Krolgar said approvingly. He already liked this flame-haired woman. Despite the attack on her, she had not once complained. Obviously, she was as stout of heart as any troll, and though far too thin, she was of the right stature for him to meet her eyes without having to look up. If she proved to half as capable a healer as her bondmate was a Mage, then she would be a true gift to the caravan. "Come, I will show you where to store your belongings, and where you can sleep..." With typical efficiency, he urged the three tired humans through the inn and out into the yard, now filled with bustling activity. In less time than they could have imagined, they were packed and on their way. - - - - - The slow pitch and sway of the wagon proved surprisingly soothing. Curled up against his side, Scully was asleep within minutes of leaving the village of Coldshores, and even Mulder the insomniac was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. Shannon was stretched out on his other side, her breathing settling down into peaceful slumber, and for the first time that day, Mulder felt a small sense of contentment. He still had a lot to think about, however, especially the deep sense of unease he felt about his explosion that morning. He didn't feel sorry for the results - those thugs deserved the punishment he had meted out - but he couldn't escape a small element of panic regarding his own loss of control. What if he had simply blasted them out of existence, or worse yet, what if had managed to destroy the entire town? When he was gripped in that kind of rage, he could be blind to his surroundings, and nothing stole away his control more than the possibility of losing Scully. She was his life, his soulmate, his partner, his love, without her he was less than whole. Without her he could not survive. Sighing, he tightened his arms around her, sending a simple prayer of thanksgiving to any and all Gods who might be listening, that she was still alive and by his side where she belonged. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do, what he could do, about controlling this raging beast that was his Mage talent, but somehow, as long as Scully was with him, it seemed less of an obstacle. Kissing the crown of her fiery head, he closed his eyes and let the steady motion of the wagon rock him to sleep. End of Chapter Eight THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Nine When Mulder awoke, strands of golden light were filtering in through the canopy, playing across his face and hands. Yawning and stretching, he rubbed at his eyes, then sat up carefully. The wagon swayed beneath him, then jerked against a rough spot, forcing him to grab on to a nearby bundle of linen for support. Beside him, Scully stirred in her sleep, then turned over towards him, nestling her head against his side. Instinctively, he reached down to gently stroke the gilded tangle of her hair, strands of sunlight weaving with the flame- colored locks. His hand reluctant to leave her, his sense of curiosity nonetheless pulled him away. Kneeling on a large pile of embroidered rugs, he undid the woven latch and opened the flap, blinking away tears as his eyes strove to adjust to the bright morning sun. "Good morning, Mage Mulder," a far too cheery voice rang out. Mulder peeked his head all the way out, hanging onto a side-strut holding up the pale leather covering. It had been bespelled to keep the worst of the Realm's summer storms out, and his magic-sensitive hands could sense the tingle of the spell within the material itself. "Good morning," a more sedate voice echoed, though Shannon's face was wreathed with a smile. Dressed in her now- customary green tunic and black leggings, the girl sat poised and confident on horse-back, towering over the little troll riding at her side. Mulder returned her grin wryly, his usually keen eyes still fogged with sleep. "Good morning Shannon, Jhorgab." He looked upward to check the position of the sun in the sky, and nearly groaned aloud when he saw how close to mid-position it was. Jhorgab followed the Mage's emerald eyes, chuckling with amusement. "You and Healer Scully missed most of the morning, I am afraid, as well as a quite fine breakfast. But we thought it would be best to let you rest fully. Besides, we will be stopping for the midday meal within a candlemark." He lifted his broad, flat nose up into the air, sniffing appreciatively. "Already H'Gorpat is beginning to prepare the meal. He is one of the finest cooks in all of the Realm, as you shall soon find out." Shannon laughed, then rubbed gingerly at her belly. "I'll have to admit Jhorg is right about that. I'm still stuffed from breakfast." Jhorgab looked appreciatively at her. "Indeed, dear lady. If you continue to eat as you did this morning you will soon look much more healthy. You are far too thin indeed. But with a few weeks of proper eating, you will fill out nicely. I believe you might even become attractive...even despite your legs which are far too elongated for true beauty." Mulder couldn't stifle his laughter at the look of dismay that dawned on Shannon's face, even as she turned to glare at the round little troll. He gazed innocently back at her, forcing Mulder into open laughter. They both turned to glare at him, and he tried, unsuccessfully to stifle his laugher. Between chuckles, he observed to Jhorgab, "I think human and troll standards of attractiveness are rather different." Jhorgab's expression lightened and he chuckled in return. "Ah yes, that is a wise observation, Mage Mulder. I have found it to be quite so. Once, I remember an occasion in which a human trader was visiting with my uncle. He had a daughter whose beauty he was much proud of, but I have yet to see a more ugly person in my life. Why she was thinner than a stick, except for her chest and hips, which were quite ungainly. I could never figure out how she managed to balance, for unlike you, Mage Mulder, she did not have the aid of magic to keep her upright on such horrendously long legs...." Mulder's mouth dropped open, even as he shot Shannon a glare. The girl was trying so hard not to laugh that tears welled up in the corners of her caramel-colored eyes. "Yeah, well..." Mulder tried to cut Jhorgab's spiel off, waving his hand. "To each his own," he muttered, moving on quickly to change the topic. "Where are we now?" "About one fourth the way between Coldshores and Fairwood Glens," Jhorgab replied. We are nearing the southernmost edge of Fairwood Forest, and should be in sight of the Uriin plains by mid-afternoon. If all goes well, we will arrive in Jinderling by nightfall." Mulder had forgotten that they had to pass by the Uriin plains, and his expression darkened. Even the name itself was enough to stir his perfect memory. Images of horrors he could only wish to forget swirled before his inner eye, and he silently cursed the "gift" of his eidetic memory. Some things should be allowed to fade with time, but he would never be given such surcease. "Are you all right?" Shannon asked him anxiously. Forcing the memories down, Mulder consciously tried to lighten his expression. Damping down his shield, he forced away the clouds that had begun to simmer in the formerly clear blue sky. Shaking his head slightly, he tried to smile reassuringly at her. "Yes. I just have some bad memories of the plains. It is where the Battle was fought the last time I was in the Realm." He couldn't quite hide his shudder. Jhorgab clapped his hand over his mouth, his skin tone darkening to a deeper emerald as he remembered. "Ah, I am sorry. I should have known better than to mention that place to you. Please accept my apologies, Mage Mulder. I was quite thoughtless and...." "It's all right," Mulder interrupted, smiling more genuinely. He ran a distracted hand through his thick dark hair, dislodging a wave of it down over his forehead. "We have to pass by there to get to Fairwood Glens, and there is no reason for you not to mention it. Besides, there is no sense in blaming the place for what occurred there." Shannon nodded, though her eyes were somber. "Still, it must be hard for you and Scully to go there again." Mulder gazed warmly at her, appreciating her understanding. "Yes, it is." "Mulder?" Scully's voice rang out from within the wagon, filled with worry and concern. He turned and ducked his head back inside to find her gazing at him with wide, sleepy eyes. It was obvious she had sensed his upset, and he reached out both physically and mentally to reassure her. //I'm all right. Just a couple of bad memories.\\ The sharing of the substance of his previous conversation was nearly instantaneous, and her heart-shaped face sombered with memories of her own. //It seems like it happened just yesterday,\\ she responded, stretching her hands out to draw him close to her. He enclosed her in his embrace, and she snuggled into his chest. He lightly kissed the crown of her head, feeling all of the tension in his body leach away in the comfort of her closeness. //I know, but here it was seven years ago. And it is all over, the...*they* are long gone from this world. We won the battle, love.\\ //I know,\\ she agreed, lifting up huge sapphire eyes to gaze lovingly at his face. //I just wish the cost hadn't been so high.\\ - - - - - Lunch was even better than promised, and far more abundant. Trolls loved nothing more than good food, and even under the relative hardship required by long travel, they saw to that primary concern. H'Gorpat set out seeming mounds of fresh bread and hot steaming tea, along with copious quantities of a thick stew. Even after refreshing themselves and changing clothes, by the time the short midday stop was over, both Mulder and Scully were feeling unusually lethargic. //I just slept for over twelve hours and I feel ready to take another nap,\\ Scully confided ruefully to her bondmate as she pushed herself up onto her horse. His laughter echoed in her mind. //I know. I doubt I'll be able to eat another bite for at least two days.\\ She laughed aloud. //Don't make promises you can't keep,\\ she chided warmly. //That metabolism of yours will burn it off in a few hours. Now mine on the other hand...\\ She scowled at her belly, which felt, if not appeared, bloated with all she had just consumed. Sitting easily in his saddle, Mulder studied her petite, but well-muscled form with an approving eye. //I don't think you have anything to worry about,\\ he complimented, not bothering to hide his pleasure at the sight of her. She turned her head to smile at him, dimples forming in her cheeks as the warmth in her eyes blazed between them. She did not even bother forming words in her reply, the two of them slipping into one of those precious moments of total communion in which the entire world narrowed down to the two of them alone and intertwined. Mulder's horse bolted to the side, and he gasped, his link with Scully breaking focus as he fought to keep his seat. Finally soothing the upset beast, he glanced behind him to find Shannon glaring at him with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "You promised, remember!" she accused lightly. Mulder glanced at Scully expecting her to share his annoyance, but she merely smiled. Turning to Shannon she apologized with good humor. "You're right. I'm sorry." Urging her horse forward, she called back over her shoulder. "I'm going to go talk with Gyruth. While Corvay did cover some troll medicine with me, there was never time for me to learn more than the basics. If we run into trouble on this trip, I'd like a better sense of what I'm doing." Mulder's entire body tensed as she drew further ahead of him, and it was all he could do to keep from stirring his horse after her. He swallowed hard, just barely holding himself back. //Don't go too far,\\ he told Scully through their link, despite the promise not to mind-speak so often in Shannon's presence. Understanding filtered back to him from Scully's bright mind, and he suddenly *saw* the lifebond stretched between them, a long filigree of blue and green and white light, woven strands that gleamed like a gilded umbilical cord. He blinked and it was gone, at least to visible sight, though he could still feel it between them like an outstretched rubber band. Shannon came up beside him, a sudden look of concern darkening her fine features. He shook his head, then turned to bestow a gentle smile on his young halla. "Perhaps you would like to start those magic lessons now?" Her entire face glowed with a sudden burst of excitement. "Oh yes, please, Taabsut Mulder. I'd like that very much. What should I do?" "Hmmm." He looked around thoughtfully as they automatically eased their horses between two wagons, letting the horses almost guide themselves within the caravan. The forest was giving way to rolling countryside as they got closer to the plains. The mountains were visible in the distance, their sheer cliffs and jagged snow-capped peaks looming against the clear sky. "I don't know how this will work while riding, perhaps we should see if we can use a wagon." Mulder spurred his horse forward, and Shannon followed close behind, her impatience making her eyes sparkle and her heart beat faster. To her mind it took forever, but at long last, with Krolgar's indulgent permission, she and Mulder settled into the same wagon they had slept in the night before. "Take it easy," Mulder told her, though he couldn't help being amused by her excitement. That had been his greatest problem with these very same lessons, and it had taken quite a while before his exuberance had stopped getting in the way of his control. She would obviously have to learn the same lesson. "Okay," she grinned at him, folding her hands in her lap and attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to appear calm and proper. Mulder shook his head, allowing himself a small smile before his face settled into total calm. "Lesson number one...how to ground..." "How to what?" He sighed. "This is rather hard to explain, but it is absolutely necessary." He thought for a moment. "Think of it in terms of electricity. Magic seems to follow some of the same principles. You know what happens if you touch an electrical outlet without being grounded?" She nodded. "Yes, you get shocked." "Exactly. So, in order to use magical energy without getting the shock of your life, you have to ground yourself. Only unlike electrical grounding, magical grounding is a mental exercise. But if it helps, you can think of it as reaching down into the earth. Try that now. Close your eyes and concentrate. Think of reaching first within yourself, then down towards the earth. Imagine yourself connected to the earth itself." Shannon frowned, closing her eyes, and trying to do what he was describing. She thought and thought, but nothing seemed to be changing. She didn't feel any different that she had before. Finally, she opened her eyes in frustration. "I don't feel *anything*!" Mulder sighed. "I know. I guess I could feel it quicker because I had so much more power to work with. OK, let's try something else. Maybe you need to feel the power itself first before you can ground it." He paused, then spoke thoughtfully. "Try this instead. Close your eyes and relax." She looked doubtfully at him, but did as he instructed. "Good, now imagine yourself sitting in a darkened room. There is nothing around you but blackness. Can you imagine that?" "Yes." "All right, now lift up your hand and imagine all of your energy pouring down your arm and into the palm of your hand. Imagine that you can see it and feel it. A blue light that tingles as it moves. Feel it, see it, guide it down into the palm of your hand. Can you see it there?" "No," Shannon shook her head, eyes still screwed shut. Her outstretched hand trembled, then abruptly, her entire arm shook. Her expression lightened, a look of sheer amazement replacing the frown. Her fingers uncurled, and her hand began to glow with a pale bluish sheen. "Wait, I can....I can feel it!" she exclaimed. "It feels kind of like I've got goosebumps, or a bad case of static. It tingles!!" "Yes, good," Mulder replied, leaning forward. "Now..." Before he could finish, her hand blazed up in sudden glory, tendrils of azure fire pouring out of her fingers and sparking into the air. Shannon cried out, her eyes opening to stare in shock as her arm appeared to burst into open flame. She shrieked, moving to flail her arm against the linens they were seated upon in an attempt to extinguish the fire. Her mind thought that it ought to be burning her, so she felt the pain, though in fact her skin remained whole and unbroken. However, her panic was stirring the power to rage beyond control and a flash of thunder came as a warning from the previously cloudless sky. Mulder grabbed for her arm, restraining her, letting her power race up his arm and swirl into his own aura which blazed up to bathe them both in a soft blue glow. "Easy...easy..." he murmured, concentrating hard as he drew his shield tightly around them both. Shannon gasped as the flames swamping her arm flickered, then settled into a quiescent gleam. Closing her other hand over her forearm next to Mulder's grip on her wrist, she marveled at the undamaged skin. "I was so sure I was burning," she whispered. "I felt it..." "Because you *thought* it should hurt. And it could have, if I hadn't shielded us both. Which is why you must learn to ground, center and shield before attempting to do anything more with the power." He gazed firmly into her eyes. "Do you understand?" She swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes, yes, I understand." Mulder studied her for a moment, then leaned back, satisfied. Releasing her hand, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Good. Now that you can sense the power, let's try grounding again..." - - - - - By the time they left the wagon, Shannon felt as though she had just been through one of Aldara's intensive training sessions, only the muscles that ached weren't physical ones, they were mental. She had a headache the size of a basketball, and she was convinced that someone was beating on her skull with a large hammer. Mulder gazed sympathetically at her, as he helped her get down from the wagon. Holding her horse steady, he guided her up into the saddle, unobtrusively using his magic to assist her. When she was fully seated, gripping desperately to the saddle for balance, he leapt up onto his horse and edged up to her side. "Go find Scully and get something for that headache," he said kindly. She looked at him with faint surprise, too exhausted to speak. He smiled ruefully at her. "You should have seen me after my first sessions with Reinald. I practically couldn't stand up. Now go on, before I have to carry you." "Thanks," she managed to get out, before letting the horse carry her ahead. Scully was only two wagons up, and after one quick glance at the girl swaying in her saddle, the healer swept her up and into yet another wagon. A cup of tea and a dose of herbal medication later, and Shannon felt the pain easing. Taking one more sip, she put down the earthen mug and smiled her thanks. "A rough lesson?" Scully said, watching her with understanding eyes. "Yeah. Somehow I thought that learning something non- physical would be easier, but it was actually harder. At least when I'm training with weapons, I can grasp onto things. This is like trying to hold water in my hands, it keeps slipping between my fingers." "I know what you mean," Scully replied. "Healing can be like that too. Especially the psychic aspects. Corvay would tell me to *feel* for something and half the time, I couldn't figure out what for the life of me. But you get there, it will just take time and practice." "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," Shannon groaned. Scully laughed. "No more for today, though. Why don't you lie down and get some rest? We should get to Jinderling in a few candlemarks." She patted Shannon on the shoulder, then made her way to the back of the wagon. Shannon took one more sip of the tea, then set the mug down carefully to the side, wedging it between bundles. "Thanks," she called out after Scully, before leaning her head down and closing her eyes. By the time Scully had turned to say "You're welcome," she was fast asleep. - - - - - Scully easily found her way to her bondmate's side. She could have done so in utter darkness, so strongly did his presence call out to her. The lifebond pulled her towards him with a pressure that eased upon her as she came closer to him. The sense of relief she felt when she finally rode up next to him, expertly guiding her horse alongside his so that their knees were almost touching was nearly palpable. The very blood in her veins sang with his nearness, and her fingers ached to reach out and touch the heat of his skin. He turned to look at her, and smiled. The breeze teased the dark strands of his hair, the afternoon sunlight burnishing the soft ebony with reddish highlights. His eyes sparkled like diamonds, emerald highlights glittering in a sea of brown. The play of light across his features emphasized the strength of the jaw and the high arch of the cheekbone, creating deep shadows below the sharp curve of bone. He was beautiful to her, and she did not need to speak aloud to offer him that admiration. Mulder, in turn, was unable to restrain himself from reaching out physically to her as she rode up to join him in the front of the caravan. His fingertips brushed her arm, then flowed downward to close upon her small hand. Her fingers twined with his, and she gave him a smile that warmed him as no sunshine or hearthfire could ever hope to match. Their eyes spoke volumes, without a word being formed. "How is she?" he asked. "Tired, but she'll recover quickly. You gave her quite a workout." He smiled and shook his head. "She gave *me* quite a workout. I don't know how it happened, but she does appear to have developed a good streak of Mage-talent." They rode in silence for a moment, watching the sun begin to set against the long distance of the plains, the seemingly empty land holding the appearance of a golden sea, yellow grain wavering in the breeze, dotted here and there by the faint shape of a dwelling or crossed by the dark stripe of a road. The mountains were closer now, rising high above their heads, the peaks reaching almost to the sun itself as the brilliant orb began its slow trip downward. "There could be a number of reasons," Scully said softly, picking up the conversation as though it had never stopped. "Perhaps she is drawing from you somehow, or maybe the talent was always there, but has only developed now. I suppose it could be an aftereffect of coming through the vortex, or maybe of the onset of puberty. She's certainly been undergoing a growth spurt." That last was said wistfully, as Scully looked down at her own short legs, dangling at the sides of the large horse she was riding. Unlike Mulder, who was able to easily wrap his legs down around the animal to help guide it with the pressure of his feet, she always felt like she was perched on an elephant, ready to slide off at a moment's notice. Actually, she was a fine horsewoman, and she knew it, but nonetheless.... Mulder squeezed her fingers, letting her know with his touch and the warmth of his gaze that he liked her just the size she was. She gave him a return squeeze, then turned to look outward across the plains. "It looks so peaceful now," she commented. "As though nothing had ever happened." Mulder was silent for a moment, then he replied somberly. "Mostly, perhaps, but there are areas where you can still see signs of the damage done. And we are far from the center of the battle. Jhorgab says that there is still a huge burnt spot in which nothing will grow. The land remains barren and empty for nearly a mile in diameter. That's much closer to the mountains than we'll go today." Scully shivered. While her memories were less distinct than his, that day had burnt itself into her brain, and there were moments she would never, could never forget, for as long as she lived. And his own, perfectly detailed, eidetically stored memories were nearly as accessible to her as her own, the sharing of their minds so complete at times that she could not always tell where he left off and she began. Her hand convulsed in his, and he angled his head sharply to look at her. //Are you all right?\\ //Yes.\\ She took a deep breath, then smiled to reassure them both. "Just bad memories..." He nodded. "I know." It was his turn to shiver as he stared out towards the distant mountains. His always expressive eyes darkened to the black of pure coal. "Some things are not meant to be forgotten, even if it would be easier to forget." They rode onwards in silence, clinging tightly to each other's hand. - - - - - The arrival in Jinderling was quiet and uneventful. The trolls hurried to secure the wagons and tend the animals with a surprising lack of conversation. Even the ever-chattering Jhorgab seemed too tired to put much effort into speech, contenting himself with a few short spurts that died quickly when he realized his audience was simply too exhausted to care. Mulder and Scully saw that their horses were rubbed down, watered and fed, then they helped a sleepy Shannon from the wagon and hustled her off to bed at the local inn. Once she was settled down, they retired gratefully to their own room. Mulder dropped like a stone onto the bed, leaving his still- booted feet dangling off the edge. "You can have the bath, Scully. I'm just too tired to care. I'll take one in the morning." The weary woman sat down beside him, groaning as she drew her boots from her feet. "I think I may do the same. I never thought I'd miss flying in an airplane, but it sure beats this." "Yeah," Mulder muttered, unwilling to move even to remove his boots and cloak. "I still feel like I'm moving. And I think my legs are going to have a permanent bend in them from spending so much time on horseback." Scully managed a smile, then turned and lightly slapped his belly. "Come on, get ready for bed. I refuse to sleep with you with your boots on." "Ahh Scully!" he whined, then resignedly, he sat up and unclasped his cloak. She got up from the bed and crossed the room to open a couple of their bags. Withdrawing the long tunic she preferred to use as a night dress, she laid it over her shoulder, then took out a pair of his boxer shorts. Turning back towards him, she watched the sinewy muscles in his arms ripple and move as he lifted his shirt up and off, then bent down to remove his boots. When he was finished, dressed only in his pants, he looked up to find her watching him, a secretive smile on her face. He arched an eyebrow in a silent question, and she tossed his shorts at him with a soft chuckle. "Not tonight, Mulder. I can't believe even you would have the energy." He retrieved his shorts from where they had landed on the bed, and sighed loudly, the sound drifting off into a huge yawn. "Unfortunately, I don't," he admitted sadly. Yet that did not stop him from glancing up at her with a bright twinkle in his eyes. "But after a good night's sleep...." - - - - - She awoke to the dawn. The first rays of morning sunlight filtered in through the pale glass of the window high above their bed, throwing a soft yellow gleam across the cream-colored sheets. Mulder stirred at her side, his body shifting in slumber. She turned to press herself against the heat of his body, resting the point of her chin on his breast. Placing her right hand on the muscled expanse of his abdomen, she let her fingers trace the elegant lines of sinew and bone, sweeping across the warm satin of his skin in tender strokes. He stirred again beneath her touch, moaning softly. Her mouth curving up into a mischievous smile, she trailed her fingertips, tapping lightly, ever so lightly across his body, slipping down under the sheets to follow the lean length of his body. Twisting and wriggling until she was draped half across his body, she lowered her mouth to his chest and began to lick and suckle at the sensitive skin. He moaned louder, his head tossing to the side and back again, as he struggled between the demands of slumber and the slow, sensual awakening of his body. Willing to wait, she took her time, caressing him with gentle, insistent hands, tasting him as though he was the finest of delicacies. Finally, he came to awareness, his drowsy hazel eyes darkening to amber as they came open. //Morning,\\ she murmured to him, her mouth far too occupied for use in anything as uninteresting as speech. //Mmmm,\\ his reply came, more a purr of satisfaction than a thought, his senses spurring him into full awareness. She laughed joyfully into his mind, her mouth now engaged with the taut skin below his navel, her hands tempting the skin of his thighs, sliding around to cup his buttocks. //Scully...\\ he formed her name, a mix of warning, pleasure, amusement, and anticipation coloring the mental image. His hips arched upwards towards her as though in emphasis, and she let loose a wave of pure satisfaction. He chuckled, reaching down to tangle his fingers in the glorious spill of her hair across his belly and hips. Running his fingers through the bright tangle, he cupped the back of her head, ever so briefly pressing her against him before moving downward to take hold of her arms. In one, graceful, rapid motion, he pulled her up across his body, lifting his left leg up to propel himself up and over her, dropping her onto her back and coming down upon her. //Gotcha,\\ he teased, not wasting a breath before claiming her mouth. Even as she returned the hunger of his mouth with the open temptation of her own, her mind was laughing with his, exchanging emotions, sensation, intertwining his desires with her own, building her own anticipation upon his. The fire stoked in their bodies, but was fed by their minds, both tangling, stroking, and finally combining, the ecstasy of their final coming together echoed between their minds, the pleasure of their bodies multiplied again and again between their souls. And at last, they fell together, bodies sated, minds exultant, hearts beating in perfect synchronicity, to rest together on sweat- coated sheets. - - - - - The morning rush left little time for contemplation. The trolls managed to take in another massive meal even as they rushed to repack and resupply the caravan. Shannon stuck close to Jhorgab, the two wandering in and out of the chaos seemingly at random, yet somehow always appearing to have some purpose in mind. The little troll talked incessantly, while his human companion remained characteristically quiet. Mulder kept the corner of his eye on the unlikely pair, his mind alight with amusement. //Quite an unusual pair,\\ he commented wryly. Scully smiled wisely. "Perhaps, but I'm glad she's found a friend." Mulder chuckled, then swallowed down the rest of his tea. "Me too," he replied with obvious fondness. He put down his cup and reluctantly got to his feet. "Guess we'd better finish packing ourselves." Scully sighed, and stood up beside him. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm spending my whole life on a horse." Mulder nodded, about to concur, when a sudden outbreak of commotion caught his attention. Loud voices emanated from the other side of the tavern, the disagreement quickly erupting into violence. "Non-human trash!" One angry shout rose above the rest, followed by a low grumble, intelligible, yet fraught with menace. The rest of the room fell silent as the conflict raged, but it was the calm before the storm. The temperature in the room somehow managed to rise above its already steamy level, and the tension fired almost to the breaking point. Mulder swore under his breath as he shouldered his way through the room, sliding past carefully watching eyes towards the center of the conflict. The human merchant was red-faced and vituperative, his pale skin flushed with rage, his body rigid as he shook a fist in the face of the troll across the table. Krolgar stood to his full, albeit unimpressive height; his heavy-browed, flat-featured face thickened with growing rage. His skin gleamed a deep forest green, his yellow eyes boring at the gesticulating man. The troll lifted a massive fist, aiming it with deliberate purpose towards the furious human's face, pausing it threateningly a few inches from the man's chin. The human let out a string of curses, and the troll's muscles clenched, released, then tensed for motion...only to hit an invisible barrier. Krolgar howled with frustration, slamming his fist seemingly into thin air, barely an inch from his adversary. The man had reeled backwards to avoid the blow, but when it never came, he stood back up and sneered at the angry, impotent troll. "That's enough!" a commanding voice rang out. Both ignored it, the troll still struggling against the unseen barrier, the human mocking him with biting words. Words that silenced in mid- syllable. The man grabbed for his throat, his eyes bulging below a thatch of blond hair, his skin flushing even more brightly as he found himself unable to utter a word. "Ggggggg," he moaned, turning around to seek help - only to find himself staring straight into a pair of blazing hazel eyes. "I said, ENOUGH!" Mulder demanded again. His hand sliced the air, and the two would-be combatants both froze in place. They stood like a pair of statues, one still clutching his throat, the other still holding a fist outstretched before him. The entire room stilled, and Mulder waited a long, tense moment, before again chopping the air in a decisive gesture. The two merchants both gasped aloud with relief as they felt control of their bodies returning. Both opened their mouths to speak, but shut them in the wake of a single glance from those focused hazel eyes. "That's better. Now sit down..." Krolgar began again to protest, but was quickly stared down. Mulder continued as though he had not been interrupted. "Sit down and tell me what is going on." Both scrambled for their seats, waiting as Mulder quickly borrowed another stool and sat down between them. Folding his hands on the table in front of him, the blue-robed Mage nodded towards the upset troll, mentally bracing himself for the onslaught of grievances and imagined wrongs. Krolgar and the human merchant obliged willingly, and it took nearly a half-hour before Mulder was able to track down the source of the problem. - - - - - "Dye shades!" Mulder and Scully had taken a position close to the front of the caravan, riding comfortably side-by-side. The plains stretched out to their right, the land to their left rising slightly into rich farmland, the soft swell of the ground forming a gentle precursor to still distant Gifrallia mountains that were a soft hint against the horizon to the East. More farmland stretched out before them, the earth tilled and fertile, row-upon-row of thick brown grain and green leafy plants stretching as far as the eye could see. But Mulder's attention was focused elsewhere, his voice rising with incredulity as he recounted, again, the substance of the disagreement between the two merchants. "They were about to hit each other because Nurbin decided that the dye lot wasn't quite the right color. 'The purple wasn't quite *red* enough,' he says. 'It didn't match the previous lot.'" Mulder shook his head. "It looked plenty *red* to me. *I* couldn't see the slightest difference." Scully couldn't help smiling as she reminded him. "You're colorblind, remember." Mulder frowned at her, though his eyes couldn't hide the sparkle that the sight of her always stimulated in those bright orbs. "I'm not *that* colorblind. And I have more trouble with green than red. I'm pretty good with shades of red." Scully let the image of one or two of his worst ties flash before both their minds, afloat on the current of her amusement. "Sure you are, Mulder." He pouted at her, then his expression sombered. "Even so...it was stupid, Scully. There was no need for it to escalate into violence. There was something more going on there...I just can't put my finger on it." He frowned, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, his eyes focused off into the distance. "You think this is connected with the other troubles...Fawnleaf and Coldshores?" Scully asked. Mulder didn't respond immediately, but his partner was patient. Long experience with the unusual way his mind worked had taught her to wait. He hadn't missed her words, he was just processing information. When he was done sorting, rearranging, patterning, he answered as though no time had passed between her words and his. "I think it's very likely." He turned to look seriously at her. "It's as though something is making little problems into big problems, aggravating tensions. Petty disagreements degenerate into violence. I don't like the feel of this." He stared back out at the open land. "I don't like it at all." - - - - - The remainder of the day passed quietly. Too quietly, perhaps. Even so, Scully's mind was serene as she settled down beside Mulder. He was lying on his back, staring up at the starlit sky, his hands folded on his chest. His mind, too, was peaceful, the fires banked. She tenderly brushed back a stray lock of hair from his brow, stroked his cheek, then rested fully down beside him. The earth was still warm from the sun, the heat emanating up through the thick woven blanket. The grass formed an additional layer of padding between them and the solid earth below. The night air was crisp, but not uncomfortable, and the slight fingers of a breeze felt good against her cheek. Curling up against the solid warmth of him, she let the weariness of her body drain from her. Closing her eyes, she could envision, like a flood of molasses, seeping down into the rich brown earth, leaving her lighter for its passing. Mulder turned to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling his face into her hair. His breath warmed the curve of her neck, and she sighed aloud with the simple pleasure of his nearness. So good, it felt so good.... A sharp cry split the night asunder, followed instantly by the clash of metal upon metal. Voices raised a raucous alarm, sounding off in broken harmony, to wake and warn. "Bandits!! To arms, to arms!!!" The trolls grabbed for swords and daggers, stumbling from wagon backs, abandoning bedrolls and blankets, as they moved to the defense. Horses snickered in panic, hooves shook the ground, the inevitable cries of the wounded erupted. Mulder and Scully were on their feet together in one swift motion. She darted for her sword, retrieving it from the scabbard laying close, as always, to hand, and lifted it before her. Even as she paused in a ready stance, eyes darting through the darkness to seek the nearest threat, a bright gleam bounced off her raised silver blade. Light blazed from Mulder's upraised hands, cloaking his disheveled figure in pale azure glory, turning the night to day. Both attackers and defenders were forced to pause, blinking back tears as eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness. But the stalemate was temporary, those whose sight recovered sooner leaping to assault those who adjusted more slowly. And moments later, the battle raged in full tilt, swords flashing, daggers slicing, cries of triumph and agony sounding hard. A black-clad man, face contorted by scars both old and new, dove for Mulder's back, a jagged-edged curved blade whistling as it swung through the air with uncanny aim...only to clang dully as it struck against the flat of a silver blade. The bandit snarled as he found himself faced with fury made manifest, fire itself flaming around a pale-skinned face. Scully ignored the grotesque knife as it fell, averted, to her feet, her only focus on the enemy who had threatened her bondmate. Her blue eyes blazed as she turned to face him, her hands held strong around the sword hilt. He grinned mockingly at her, circling to his left, his own sword held one-handed, almost negligently, at an angle. He beckoned to her, but she held her ground, waiting patiently. She did not have long to wait. With a fierce cry he shifted into abrupt motion, flowing at her, sword and arm and body moving as one. She was ready, and their weapons clashed with a terrible din, reverberating against each other again and again, creating the dissonant music of warfare. He was good, but so was she. And nearly evenly matched in skill and training, it became a question of his strength against her speed. He came at her relentlessly, forcing her to dodge and twist, dancing across the ground on agile feet. He pushed her back, then was forced back himself, giving ground inch by sweaty inch, and then he held and gained yet again. Her hair fell limp and plastered against her skin, and her lungs began to scratch for air. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and the entire world focused down into one single need - to bring her all-too-heavy blade around to meet his, over and over again, until the graceful weapon became a dead weight pulling at her wrists and shoulders, dragging at the limits of her strength. Yet even as she stumbled, nearly tumbling to the ground, one final blast of energy, born of determination and purified rage, boiled through her veins. The blow of his blade against hers reverberated up her arms, and she slid sideways, as though staggering to her defeat. But even as he grinned in anticipation of triumph, bringing his sword up and around to slash it down towards her yet again, she was pivoting to his other side. Letting the flow of motion carry her with it, using the force of his own blow against him, she spun around and swept the point of her sword towards his unprotected side. The silver blade split flesh with barely a whisper, and his scream of triumph became a gurgle of pain. With all of her weight behind it, the strike was true - and he staggered, pierced like a fish on a hook. Bracing herself, she yanked the sword free, turning barely in time to avoid the remnant of his own attack. His blade missed her by scarcely an inch, then fell downwards to bury its tip in the earth. She danced backwards, leaving him to waver to his knees, then crumble downwards into a gory puddle of his own blood. Gasping for breath, she turned, only to cry out in pain as a glowing thunderball of light exploded overhead. Throwing up an arm to shield her eyes, she dropped to her knees. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed, the air sparked with static. Energy washed over the campsite in azure waves, circling outwards from one center, flowing in luminescent eddies around each cowering human, troll, and elf. Battle cries gave way to sobs of fear, and then to silence, until the only sound remaining was the raging thunder and the wind itself. Light blazed, thunder pealed, then just as suddenly as it had begun, the storm ended. - - - - - The trolls easily rounded up the last of the bandits, dispatching them with merciful quickness. Scully's first reaction had been to interfere, but the law in the Realm was clear. Taking the prisoners on the to next village would only have delayed the inevitable, for the one and only sentence available for such crimes was death. Yet, while she had delivered such herself only a few moments before, there was something so much colder about killing men frozen by Mulder's spell than the killing she had done in the heat of battle. She had been acting to save her own life and that of her loved ones from an armed and violent aggressor - and she felt no guilt. But the executions were different to her mind, even though she knew without asking that any of the trolls would think she was crazy for making such a distinction. Perhaps she was. More likely she was just tired. What little energy she had left was already spoken for, as the troll healer struggled to deal with the sudden overflow of casualties. Bending her will to the task at hand, she found some peace, at least, in the act of healing. After what seemed like an eternity of moving from one wound to another, using bandages and herbal teas, her own inner strength and force of being, she had finally reached the last of the patients. They had been luckier than she would have expected given the suddenness of the assault, only two trolls had died and only four were seriously wounded. Mulder, Shannon, and Scully herself had escaped completely unharmed, Shannon proving herself to be a fierce and capable fighter. Give her some more practice, and she'd be superb. Scully wasn't quite sure that was necessarily a good thing, but at least it meant that they wouldn't have to worry about the girl being able to protect herself. Putting aside personal concerns for the moment, Scully returned her focus to her final patient. The gash was painful, but not life-threatening, and she was able to close it off with a minimum of effort. Waving at a volunteer to feed the moaning troll a tea that would ease his agony, she staggered to her feet. //Hey, take it easy, there.\\ Mulder's arms closed around her from behind and she sagged into his embrace gratefully. Letting the back of her head rest against his chest, she drew on the support he offered, feeling the energy swell from him to her, easing the ache behind her temples and strengthening her exhausted legs. He held her tenderly for a while, just giving her time to recover, then he leaned around her and swept her up into his arms. She angled her head up to protest instinctively, but he silently shushed her. And secure in the solid circle of his arms, it was easy to let him take control. She was worn to the bone. Murmuring unintelligibly, she snuggled into his chest as he carried her across the camp. Even before he reached his destination, she was sound asleep, and she barely made a sound when he lowered her onto a pile of rugs which had spilled from a wagon. The wares could be picked up and repaired on the morrow, for now - it was time to rest and recover. There was still a long journey ahead. End of Chapter Nine THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Ten She yanked the bellpull and waited impatiently until a minion appeared. "Bring our guest up to my workroom." He bowed low and scuttled down the staircase to do her bidding. She swept up the same staircase, gliding over the polished black marble steps in a tight spiral with practiced ease. At the top landing, she went to her left, to her workroom, and took her chair. She had left the miserable little man alone for days now. Whether he had been waiting in a lather of anxiety or had grown cocky by her lack of attention was immaterial to her - the result would be the same. A sound filtered into her consciousness, and annoyed, she glanced at the tall narrow window, choked with vines. A small crimson and gray bird twittered its song, vainly seeking others of its kind. A thought was enough to kill. The song stopped, the bird plummeting to the vegetation far below. A new sound was heard, or sounds. Feet scraping on the stairway, labored breathing. Seconds later, Drellor appeared. "Your Majesty, thank you for seeing me. I had hoped we would be able to ta-" She skewered him with her gaze. "Quiet, little man. Understand something - I will ask the questions and you will answer. You will answer me truthfully and completely. Are we clear so far?" "Y-yes, Your Majesty," he panted. "Not yet." "N-not yet? I-I'm sorry, I don't understand," quavered Drellor. "My domain for now is merely this swamp. But not for much longer. I want to be more than a queen in name only." Her stare had the intensity of a stiletto blade. "I want what my ancestors had. I want MORE than my ancestors had." A crafty look stole into the little man's eyes. "Ah, I begin to see. I believe I can help you attain what you're looking for." She laughed scornfully. "You? YOU? How can you do anything I can't?" Excellent. The fool took the bait almost faster than she could play it out. "Uh - uh, well, anyone can see that you have no equal in power, my lady. No, obviously, I cannot best you there. But it is what I know, my lady, that could be of infinite use to you. I know many things and could help you to get what you're looking for." "And why should you do that, little man?" she purred. "Because it suits my plans to do so. A-and of course because of the respect I have for you, my lady." Drellor stood sweating in the center of the room. "Perhaps - perhaps if I could sit down and catch my breath...." Imperiously, she gestured to the footstool next to her chair. "Thank you, my lady, most kind." He hesitated just long enough to slow his breathing, then began to think about the plan he had worked on, almost since that horrible day before the full Council of Representatives so many season-cycles ago. The Council that was meant to seal Reinald's doom, and instead sealed his own. "I have been unfairly imprisoned by my nephew and his guardian for longer than I care to remember. I hate them to the depths of my soul. Indeed, I have sworn that if it takes until my dying breath, vengeance will be mine." A small smile played at her lips. "Be careful what you wish for, because you may get it." "I beg your pardon, my lady, I didn't quite catch...?" The smile broadened, revealing white, even teeth. "No matter - a proverb I heard in one of the strange lands I traveled once long ago. And who is the object of your vengeance?" Drellor's brows drew together in a scowl. "The Royal Mage, Reinald. And King Andalor. But especially the Mage, and the other one - the Stranger." His voice trailed off to a mutter as he again became consumed by his memories. "Almost...I had him where I wanted him...I was so close, so CLOSE!" She left him to his thoughts for a few moments. "So, you want the head of King Andalor of Fairwoods Demesne. Yes, that would be an appropriate place for me to start. And I confess no love in my heart for Reinald. For him or his kind. But what can you do to further my plans and yours? You were stuck in a dungeon until I freed you. This does not bespeak of much power, Drellor." "No. No, but that was only because of the other one. I never would have ended up in that dungeon, I would have sat upon the throne if it hadn't been for that other one." He shook with righteous indignation. She sighed. "I am becoming impatient. If you are wasting my time, be assured that you will pay dearly for every second you have cost me. If you have something to say, then say it. Now - tell me of this other one, the Stranger." "Y-Yes, my lady. He is a Mage of incredible power. He came into our Realm one day like he had dropped from the sky, him and his woman. I was told he was a visiting Mage from a land far away, come to trade spells." His woman? A Mage with a woman? Surely not, the miserable little worm must be even stupider than he looked. Such things had been long forgotten. "And how was this Mage so powerful?" she asked thoughtfully. "He has the cunning of...of...of I don't know what. But he is very, very cunning. With Reinald he was able to loose the spell which enchanted the prince - a secret spell no one knew but the caster! And they broke it! At that time I was incarcerated, so my sources of information were limited. But later I would hear the guards talk of the exploits of Mage Mulder, and how he helped to defeat the Dark Creatures and drive them from our land." Her brows rose with that. Witch Tears Swamp, far from the area where they had emerged, had borne few incursions of the Dark Creatures, but she too had her sources. So - impressive. "Describe for me this Mage Mulder," she commanded. "Young - for a Mage. OH! Oh, no offense, my lady." He trembled and spluttered until she waved a dismissive hand. "Thank you, most merciful lady. Well, he is tall, and well-favored. And strong. I, myself, am blind to auras, but I have been told by those who can see them that his is of the purest, brightest Mage blue that anyone has yet seen." His eyes narrowed as he tried to assess her expression - he had her interest, that was certain. Now - to play for time. "What else of Mage Mulder - what kinds of spells can he do?" Drellor closed his eyes and moaned slightly. "My lady, much as I would love to carry on this conversation, I feel a terrible headache coming on. Would it be possible...?" "Yes, of course, Prince Drellor. Why don't you retire, and we can converse again tomorrow?" "Thank you, my lady, you are most kind." He bowed low and backed out of the room, then hurried down the stairs, almost chortling in his excitement and glee. Yes! I have them now! She even called me prince! She waited until he was at the bottom of the turret before she began to smile, then a low throaty laugh shook through her. Fool! Who did he think he was? Well, no matter. Let him think whatever he wanted, as long as he continued to supply her with information of this new Mage. And what he didn't give freely, she would take anyway. But it was easier this way, for now. She stretched out a hand to take the hematite sphere between her palms. She focused on a color - the purest and brightest Mage blue, was it? - her memory seeking what she had sensed in Fawnleaf. Holding the sphere, a scene came to her. Wagons, and trolls, and cookfires. The Mage waiting his turn in line for food. How sweet. How perfectly bucolic. A picnic. If she hadn't been in such a good mood, she might have simply set fire to the whole forest with a spell that was only moderately complicated. For now, she was just content to spread merely misery. Still grasping the ball, she drew her brows together in concentration, muttering the Old Realm words so familiar on her tongue. Then, sensing the thunder, sensing the clouds she commanded to gather, sensing the rain starting to fall in cold gray sheets, she sat back and returned the sphere to its stand. "Enjoy your journey," she smiled. - - - - - As the distant spires of a fairy tale castle showed black against the darkening sky, the weary travelers breathed a sigh of relief. Scully flashed a tired but encouraging smile back to Shannon. They were all bedraggled, wet and miserable, hardly the way they thought they would be arriving in Fairwoods Glens. The morning had been bright and cool, a perfect spring day, and they rode through the beautiful country of rolling green hills and turquoise lakes easily. They had stopped by one such lake for lunch. Meal breaks with the troll caravan were always highly anticipated - if anyone appreciated the value of good eating, it was the trolls. A small party rushed off to the lake with nets as soon as the wagons rolled to a stop, closely followed by Shannon and Jhorgab. They returned a short time later, eagerly carrying a netful of wriggling salmon-like fish to the cookfires. Mulder and Scully saw to the horses, watering them and leading them to a small field nearby to graze. Hand in hand, they walked around the perimeter of the placid lake, glorying in being off horseback and able to touch. They rejoined the caravan when the delicious aroma of fire-grilled food reminded them of how hungry they were. Grabbing wooden platters, they stood at the end of the serving line, having learned not to get between a hungry troll and his food. When they reached the head of the queue, a smiling Shannon served them with massive portions of spit- roasted fish and vegetables and bread. Then they collected tankards of ale from a wooden cask lashed to one of the wagons, and retired beneath the trees to consume their idyllic picnic lunch. After they had eaten, they lay back, full and content, in each other's arms. "I'm going to gain weight, traveling with these guys," murmured Scully. "If so, it seems to be going on in all the right places," observed her bondmate, knowing the reaction it would bring. Retribution was swift - a gentle jab in the tummy, followed by Scully's "Don't be a pig, Mulder." He laughed and held her closer. "Funny, the only time I feel really good anymore is when we're like this - close, holding each other." "Mmm, me too. Wish there were time for a nap." Mulder looked through the leafy canopy at the gathering clouds. "I think we're going to have to push on fairly soon. The weather looks like it's changing." They reluctantly got to their feet and rejoined the caravan. The fast-approaching clouds had been noticed by Krolgar as well, and the trolls were extinguishing the cookfires and hitching the horses once more to the wagons. "Oh, there you are," he said. "We have to move - rain coming. If we want to make Fairwoods Glens by nightfall, we have to leave now." Mulder nodded and went to retrieve the horses from the field near the side of the road. As he disappeared from view, Scully felt a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over her, and staggered slightly. Shannon, coming up behind her, put out a strong arm to steady the smaller woman. "You okay, Dana? You look really pale." "Yeah, just give me a second." She leaned, sweating lightly, on Shannon's arm. The wave passed just as Mulder arrived, riding one horse and leading the other three. He didn't look any better than she did. He slid off his mount. //You okay?\\ //Yeah, I am now. Maybe we should go together next time?\\ //I think that might be a good idea.\\ He boosted the two women to their saddles, then swung himself up into his own. As he did, thunder rumbled. The caravan began to move on up the road, its pace brisk. Two long, wet candlemarks later they had stopped, one of the wagons mired in heavy mud brought on by the cold, driving rains they had endured almost since they set out. They stood grouped around the stuck wagon while a team of trolls tried vainly to rock the wheel free from the mucky pothole. Raising her voice to be heard over the torrential downpour, Scully observed, "This isn't getting anywhere. Is there anything you can do?" "Yeah, I think so. Ask the trolls to step away from the wagon." As his blue aura surged around him, the trolls scattered back. They didn't need anyone to tell them not to get between a Mage and his magic. Closing his eyes, Mulder concentrated for a few moments, then raised his arms, palms up. The wagon rose, the wheel clearing the pothole. Then he swung his hands laterally, and the startled team of horses trudged ahead several paces. Another move of his hands, and the wagon settled once again on terra firma. He opened his eyes and breathed deeply. He took a moment to collect himself. Then, "This is going to keep happening, with the rain this heavy," he told Krolgar. "I think I can clear the way, but it's going to take a lot of concentration. We're going to have to lead. Keep the wagons moving, and don't let any of them get more than seventy-five paces behind me." "Fine," said Krolgar grimly. "Anything you can do to speed our pace. At this rate, we won't get into Fairwoods Glens until sometime tomorrow. We can't afford to lose that much trading time." Mulder nodded absently, already concentrating on his upcoming spell. Then he, Scully and Shannon remounted and went to the head of the caravan. His blue aura surged again, and his horse shied uneasily. Ahead, the mucky bog that the road had become shimmered slightly, then hardened, the torrent bouncing off the surface. Mulder urged his horse ahead. "All right, let's MOVE!" yelled Scully, turning back to the wagons. Behind her, she could see that the road kept its enchanted hardness under the wheels of the caravan. Ten paces beyond the end of the last wagon, the road shimmered and once again became a mire. They moved tightly grouped together, following the glowing Mage and his bondmate. As they got nearer to Fairwoods Glens, they began to pass through more villages, elves peeking through their windows in awe as they felt the magic, and saw the aura of a powerful Mage at work. Finally, four candlemarks later the road widened, and as they neared the castle gates, became paved with cobblestones. The rain had slackened to a cold, miserable drizzle falling from the night sky. Mulder, exhaling slowly, released his spell and the blue glow faded. Scully urged her horse forward to move next to her bondmate. She reached out and touched his arm. "Are you all right?" He drew in a tremulous breath and sighed. "Yeah. Sort of. All that concentrating gave me a bitch of a headache. Which I can sense you're sharing - sorry about that." "Comes with the territory, Mulder. There are compensations." She flashed a warm smile at him. //As soon as we get settled for the night, we'll have to work on some of those compensations.\\ He leered creditably at her, and she laughed. A high but delicately-fashioned portcullis opened at their approach, and a small deputation of elves marched through to greet them, carrying torches. A fairly young and self-assured elf, clothed in the prince's colors of scarlet and gold, stepped forward from the others and bowed from the waist with a sweep of his arms. "Welcome, esteemed Mage, esteemed Warrior Healer and Mage Halla. You do our castle great honor by your visit. I am Furflot, aide to Prince Mavor. He has asked me to beg your indulgence. Affairs of state have exhausted him and he has retired for the night, otherwise he would be here to greet you himself. If you will, please follow me, your quarters are ready for you." He relaxed his formal manner slightly and smiled. "You look like your journey has been difficult. Hot baths, hot food and warm beds are waiting." The three almost groaned with anticipation. "Thank you, Furflot. They'll be much appreciated," Mulder responded, returning the little elf's smile. He signaled to Krolgar and the wagons rumbled and clattered behind the group of elves into the main courtyard of the castle. "Have a good night, Mage Mulder," the caravan leader called. "And thank you for your help. We'll see you in the marketplace tomorrow." Then the wagons broke away from Mulder and the elves to clatter through an arch at the far end of the courtyard. The three followed Furflot to another archway, where more elves emerged to take charge of their horses. They slid out of their saddles gratefully, and for the first time, took close note of their surroundings. "I think we're in Disney World," whispered Shannon, looking around in awe. Mulder smiled. The prince's castle did give that impression. Where Fairwoods Keep was heavy and massive, a fortress with thick walls and guard towers, the prince's seat in Fairwoods Glens did indeed look like Cinderella's castle, all delicate spires and filigree. It was a jewel of a palace, more a work of art than architecture. "Please follow me." The elf preceded them through an elaborately carved door into a huge hall. Glorious chandeliers ablaze with candles hung suspended from a high beamed ceiling, the beams themselves arranged in an intricate decorative design. Large windows were cut high in the walls, draped with diaphanous material in gem-like colors. Gorgeous holographic tapestries hung in profusion. "This place is beautiful," breathed Scully. "I'm proud you find it so. Just through here." The young elf indicated one of the many passages that led off the hall. They walked silently down wooden floors polished to a mirror-like sheen, finally stopping at a large door of oak with silver inlay. "Mage Mulder, this is the guest chamber where you and the Warrior Healer will be staying. Your halla will be directly across the corridor. Your baths have been drawn, and your servants will be in directly to see if you require any assistance in bathing. When you are ready, they will bring you food and drink." "Thank you, Furflot. You've thought of everything, and I'm sure we'll be very comfortable. When will it be convenient to speak to His Highness?" "Not until early afternoon, I'm afraid. He has many pressing matters to deal with. I can change his schedule to suit you, however, if you need to speak to him sooner," the aide said anxiously. "No, no," Mulder replied. "That will be fine. Thank you again, and good night." "Good night, esteemed Mage. Now, esteemed lady, this is your chamber...." They watched until Furflot had departed and Shannon entered her chamber, returning her tired wave. Then they opened their own door and went in. "Oh, Mulder, this is gorgeous!" "I'll never be able to get you into another Motel 8 again, after this." The chamber was only slightly smaller than their huge quarters back at Fairwoods Keep, and was perfectly square. Halfway up the wall opposite to where they stood, tall stained glass windows cast reflected puddles of spectacular color all over the room. To their left, a fire blazed merrily in the hearth, and large thick cushions were scattered around the perimeter of the hearthrug. Two big copper tubs, full of water and steaming, sat on the far side of the fireplace, separated by a small drain in the floor. To Mulder and Scully's right, a huge high bed was hung with lacy bedcurtains of snowy white. To one side of the bed was a large oaken armoire, much like their own back at Fairwoods Keep. To the other, there was a door, presumably to their lavatory. Splendid tapestries decorated all the walls. At intervals were torch holders of silver, so delicately crafted it seemed impossible that they could bear their fiery burdens. In the very center of the room sat a large, very low table around which were the thick cushions that evidently took the place of chairs in this culture. They walked slowly around the room, exploring everything. Scully disappeared for a few minutes, then emerged from the lavatory. "They seem to have a better idea of plumbing here," she announced. "I figured that from the drain in the floor for the baths. Makes a lot more sense than bailing those tubs out and carrying the water away. Hey, did you check out the armoire?" Scully shook her head and swung open the doors. Garments of every color and for every occasion hung in the cupboard. "These are even our sizes, Mulder. They really pull out all the stops when it comes to hospitality, don't they?" Mulder was holding up a sheer black nightshift he had collected from the bed, peeking at her through it. "Yeah, but it's a little disconcerting that they seem to know my tastes for you in nightwear." Scully had just settled into his arms when a knock sounded on the door. With a sigh, Mulder went to answer the summons. He declined assistance for bathing, but asked the servant to bring food in half a candlemark's time. Returning to Scully's side, he bent to kiss her gently on the mouth, then unfastened her belt, relieving her of her sword. He went on to slip her sodden tunic over her head. "It's more fun to do it ourselves, don't you think?" he asked with a knowing smile. Eyes smoldering, he stripped her of her wet, mud-splashed clothing, then swung her up into his arms and carried her across the room, depositing her in one of the tubs. He knelt at its side. Slowly and tenderly he smoothed every part of her with fragrant soap as she reclined, a soft smile gracing her lips. His touch set her on fire, and she wanted more, as he well knew. A mischievous smile played at the corners of his lips as he rinsed the soap from her body. When he had finished he scooped her up once more and wrapped her in a huge sheet. "You showed admirable and if I may say so, uncharacteristic restraint," Scully observed, smiling. "Your turn, now." She shrugged out of the sheet, and removed his clothes as he had hers. He stepped into his tub, and she knelt behind him, massaging his tight neck and shoulder muscles. Reaching in as a healer, she eradicated the pounding headache and the soreness from being on horseback all day. "Oh, yeah, that's good," he sighed. "So's that," he smiled moments later, as she began to caress his skin with soap. Now it was her turn to smile mischievously as she deliberately tried to do everything she could to break his self-restraint. Well, if we're going to play games.... she thought impishly. Just as she felt she was making some headway in undermining his reserve, another knock at the door was followed by the entrance of several servants, all carrying dishes and pots and baskets. Scully grabbed her discarded sheet with a yelp. With an effort, she returned the smiles and nods of the servants as they laid the table and made tea. If the servants found a naked Mage together with a naked woman remarkable, there was certainly no sign of it. A buxom, matronly elf who appeared to be in charge of the others spoke. "Just let everything be, Warrior-Healer. We'll be in to collect it sometime during the night. I am Arthra, your chief servant while you're here. If you need anything, just tug the bellpull over by your bed. You enjoy yourselves, now." With that, she followed the others out of the room. Mulder burst out into the laughter he had been trying so hard to hold back. "'You enjoy yourselves, now'," he whooped, breathless. "Scully, if you could have only seen yourself! You really DID blush right down to your toes!" She grinned good-naturedly and tossed him a bathsheet. "Bathtime's over, lover. I just remembered how hungry I am." After they had changed into their night clothes and eaten, they stretched out on the cushions by the fire. Clean and full, and most of all, together, they felt better than they had in several days. Mulder reclined, his head on Scully's lap as she played gently with his hair and drowsily gazed into the fire. "This is the life, Scully." "Mmm." An impish smiled lit up his face. "Hey, woman! Peel me a grape!" Scully giggled. //Screw you, Mulder!\\ In a heartbeat, he had flipped her over and was on her. Fire flared in his eyes and his face loomed close, finally covering her mouth with his own as his tongue dipped inside to duel with hers. Pulling back for a moment, he let her catch her breath, and smiled down at her. //Great idea, Scully. Crudely put, but a great idea!\\ - - - - - Andalor rolled his eyes and slumped down further in his seat, massaging his aching temples. Down the length of the table, nobles were roaring at each other, at times leaning across the wooden expanse to thrust a fist in someone's face, some grabbing a collar to pull an opponent closer. It had been like this since they had all assembled, a candlemark ago. Finally, he had had enough, and leapt up from the throne. "There will be SILENCE!" It took several seconds, but eventually he had the glowering attention of all the nobles. "In case it has escaped your notice, the purpose of this meeting is to seek your counsel on what can be done to stop the wave of hatred and violence that is tearing our Realm apart. I do not intend for you to re-enact those shameful and terrible occurrences. You will conduct yourselves as nobles of this Realm, or you will be banished from this room. Have I made myself clear?" There were sullen murmurs from around the table. From Reinald and Mandor of House Ranfaus, approving glances were cast the king's way. "Good. Now, what suggestions have you for trying to put an end to the interspecies violence?" At the far end of the table, Marvick of Dordinal muttered something to one of the young nobles of his house, and hearty laughter ensued. "You have something to offer, Marvick?" asked the king, mildly. "I merely said, Your Majesty, that the problem could be neatly contained by simply slaughtering all the shrunken, deformed little creatures and leaving the Realm for those fit to dwell here." He sat back and looked pleased with himself, as House Dordinal convulsed with laughter. Representatives from the other Houses looked on, with expressions that varied from amused smiles to contempt. Andalor's face turned white with anger, maintaining control only with great effort. Reinald, careful to keep the anxiety from his expression, studied the king from across the table. He had handled himself well thus far, but this was the first blatant insult to his authority. It was critical that he deal with the situation immediately and correctly. "Lord Marvick, will you stand, please?" the king requested, in a deceptively quiet tone. Still enjoying the attention, Marvick stood, gloating at the nobles of the other Houses. "Thank you, Lord Marvick. Now - collect that worthless rabble you call your House, and get out of here." Marvick couldn't have looked more shocked if Reinald had turned him into a lizard. "Wh-what do you mean, 'get out'? I am here by my birthright!" he spluttered. "You can't do that!" "I can, and I will. I want you out of here, now. And I will refresh your obviously faulty memory of the Realm's laws regarding treason, while I'm at it. 'To disobey the direct and personal order of the king at any time shall be called treason, and the king may exact what penalty he will.' My strongest advice would be not to forget these words. You are growing dangerously close to an appointment with the headsman's ax. Now GET OUT!" Marvick stood open-mouthed, his several chins trembling, unable to comprehend the king's words. How dare anyone, even the king, speak to the head of Dordinal in that fashion? But looking into Andalor's set, angry face, he opted not to protest further. He signaled curtly to the other representatives of his House, and they swept angrily from the table, stomping their way from the Great Hall and slamming the massive oaken doors behind them. "Now," said the king pleasantly. "Does anyone want to join Dordinal outside?" A chorus of "No, Sire's" rang out around the table. "Good. Then perhaps we shall make some progress after all." The king re- seated himself. "Lord Mandor, can you give us your counsel?" The meeting droned on for several more candlemarks. Whether it was because of Dordinal's absence or their own plans to further the cause of their houses, the representatives placed much of the blame for the interspecies violence locally on gangs of Dordinal youths. These packs of wild, unprincipled young men had made trouble for every non-human they had come across, usually stopping short of outright murder, but setting fires, stealing and assaulting the females in troll, gargoyle and elf villages. In some of those villages, there had then been retaliatory attacks against humans. Reinald had no doubt that Dordinal was taking advantage of the unnatural tension throughout the Realm to carry out its own vendetta against the other species. But the timing of the violence and the tensions that fostered it could be explained only by the Black Arts. He dismissed the concept that Marvick was working in league with a black magician. He didn't have the courage to deal with anyone powerful enough to squash him and his entire House like a bug. "Sire, perhaps the people need a distraction from all these tragic occurrences," suggested Horvay of Maalfees silkily. "Something joyful. Perhaps if the king announced his betrothal to a noble lady, say like my lovely Woldora-" Instantly, there were shouts of protest in the air, each noble house reciting a list of its unmarried daughters like a litany of saints. The king stood and the shouts silenced. "I am well aware that my betrothal would bring joy to the Realm. But I want it understood that I will not be rushed in this matter." "But Sire, consider the advantages of marrying my sweet Vansolta..." "No - my Derfissa...." "Nay, Sire, surely my fair Gurtolle would bring the most pleasure to the Realm...." Andalor smothered a laugh. Surely, the noble's fair Gurtolle had already pleasured most of the Realm, and was diligently working her way through the remainder. More than fair, she was positively generous. "As I have said - I am giving it my consideration, but will not be rushed." "But Sire," whined a noble from a minor house, "This decision must be made soon!" His six daughters were driving him insane with their incessant squabbling about which of them the king would find the most desirable. "Trust that I will do what's best for the Realm," declared Andalor firmly. "But if I am hounded further, I shall marry a troll princess, and make her family predominant over all of you!" There was a horrified gasp from the assembled nobles - all but Mandor, whose chuckle soon graduated to a belly laugh. Andalor smiled at the noble, then announced, "Enough. We have been here too long and we grow tired. My thanks to you - you are dismissed." The nobles shuffled out with the others of their respective Houses, speaking of the events of the council session and the best way to draw the king's attention to the daughters of their house. Andalor and Reinald sat at the table until they had left, then got wearily to their feet and began the long walk back to their quarters. "I was proud of you, my boy, as your father would have been proud. You handled that situation with the vile Marvick in a perfectly regal way." Andalor nodded. "It's nice to know that your lessons in kingship weren't for naught. I wanted to kick him in his overfed ass. Goddess, but the Dordinal House is a burden! Why didn't you feed them to the Dark Creatures when you had the chance?" Reinald chuckled. "They are a lot to handle, but they fought as bravely and died as bravely as any of the others in the War with the Dark Creatures." "I'm sorry. I guess I kinda lost it at the end of the meeting." The king looked sheepish. "You mean that remark about the troll princess? No mind. Perhaps they will even give you the time you are looking for." Andalor snorted, and broke into the slang learned in Mulder's world that now peppered his vocabulary. "No way. I'm already avalanched with gifts from young hopefuls. Daily Dorbo comes to my quarters, weighted down with baked goods, tapestries, and splendid garments, supposedly from the talented hands of the daughters of the Houses. I have half a mind to charge them with cruelty to their servants, for I'm sure that that's who's producing these marvels." The two crossed the courtyard and entered their wing of the castle through a stone archway. "Well, Andalor, they have a point. I want you to have as much choice in the matter as possible. But the longer you put off the decision, the more pressure you will have. Events may occur that will limit your choice." They walked in silence through the quiet stone halls, then neared the door to Andalor's chambers. Reinald hesitated a moment. "You know, Lady Livirnea of Ranfaus is nearing marriageable age," he suggested mildly. "Livirnea? She's just a child," Andalor said dismissively "She will be entering her fourteenth summer shortly. A little young, yes, but the betrothal period could last a couple of season cycles, until she is old enough. She's quite pretty and quite intelligent, I'm told. And a marriage to the House of Ranfaus would cement them as allies - very strong allies. Maalfees will fall in right behind, leaving only Dordinal as a potential enemy. And House Dordinal is treacherous enough to plot against you even if you married within their house, so a marriage there would gain nothing." "Thank the Goddess for that," the young king muttered. "Look, Reinald, do we have to talk about this now? I'm tired." The old Mage looked fondly at the young man who bore so much. "No, Andalor, we don't have to do it now. Soon, but not now. Good night, my boy." "Good night, Reinald." Andalor pushed open the door to his chambers. Dorbo had just finished laying the table for night tea. A loaf of sweet brown bread and a pot of the boy's favorite jam stood on the small table near the hearth. As he entered, Dorbo picked up the pot of night tea and poured a steaming mug for him. Andalor threw himself into a chair by the fire and sipped his tea as Dorbo bustled about, setting out his nightclothes, extinguishing the torches and turning down his bed. The hot soporific seemed to course through his bloodstream, finally bringing relaxation to his tense muscles. He stared into the fire, his thoughts random. "Will there be anything else, King Andalor?" "Hm? Oh, no thank you, Dorbo." He craned his neck to look back at the servant waiting by the door. "Have a good night." "Thank you, Your Majesty. Sleep well." The elf bowed deeply and left. Smiling, Andalor turned back to the fire as the door clicked shut behind his servant. Dorbo had been his servant since he outgrew the need for a nursemaid. In spite of their familiarity, after the coronation the little elf insisted on observing all the formalities of Andalor's position, even though the boy himself was uncomfortable with it. He felt himself getting sleepy, and let his mind wander. Livirnea of Ranfaus. Well, he had to admit to himself it was not the worst idea he had heard on the subject. He had met the girl once, several season-cycles before, and truly could not say that it would be a bad match. But he resented the fact that, regardless of how palatable the match might be, it would not be of his own making. Could he ever really be happy with a wife not of his choosing? His father and mother had been happy - well, at least he had always assumed so - and their marriage had been arranged by the Council. Maybe.... Impatiently, he sighed. No, it simply would not work. He would end up hating the innocent Livirnea, and all because she, like himself, had been an unfortunate pawn in a political game. It wasn't fair to either of them. Not for the first time that night, he thought of Shannon. Where was she now, and what was she doing? He knew that Mulder was probably conserving the Oracle crystals, not using them unless it was a necessity. Still, it would be nice to hear from her. To hear that she was well, and safe. And that she had been thinking about him.... He caught himself with a little jerk, just before he drifted off. Wearily, he rose from the chair, washed and changed into his night shorts. Then, drawing aside the curtains, he climbed up onto the tall bed and slid between the cool, fresh smelling covers. Snuggling down, he smiled to himself. I must be more tired than I thought, he mused. Why would I be thinking about Shannon? End of Chapter Ten THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eleven Across the dark courtyard, hearthglow spilled from the windows of the little cottage. Jourdain and Aldara had been up for a candlemark, since Daanna's latest dream. The little girl had been comforted and soothed, and just had returned to an apparently dreamless sleep. Her parents, on the other hand, had given up all thoughts of sleep for the moment. Jourdain stirred the fire into life and set a kettle on the hod, then eased himself into one of the deeply cushioned chairs by the hearth. "I swear she slept better when she was a baby." His eyes were darkly circled, and he wondered to himself if they would ever be able to get a full night's rest again. Aldara turned haunted eyes to him. "Jourdain, what's happening to our child? Is she enchanted? I don't understand any of this! Another foretelling dream - the third this week alone. And always the same - 'stay together, watch out for the bad lady, pass all the tests', each time with more urgency than the last." Her voice broke. "Jourdain, I want my little girl back!" He took her hands and pulled her from her chair into his lap, cradling her as he had done their child shortly before. "I don't know what it all means, Aldara. The ways of magic are just as foreign and difficult for me to comprehend as they are for you. But of one thing I am sure - this has meaning. These dreams are telling us something, warning us. And we are meant to listen and profit by them. In the morning, I will speak to Reinald of this latest dream." "But who is doing it, who is making her have them?" she cried desperately. He shook his head. His deep voice was calm. "I don't know. Maybe no one. You know what Lita says. The orange and blue of her aura is unique, and it is stronger, more visible than usual. Perhaps she was born to be a seer, a prophetess. I'm a simple man, Aldara. I don't question. These things just are." "She is being robbed of her childhood, and I hate it." He smiled down at his wife. "You don't know that. Except for the dreams, she seems happy enough. And she is very intelligent for her age. All we can do is be there for her when she needs us, as any parent would be. This will pass." "I hope so, Jourdain. By the Goddess, I hope so." - - - - - The sun high in the sky was streaming through the windows, throwing rainbows across the chamber walls by the time they awoke. At some point during the night they had moved from the hearthrug to the high Realm bed. Now they lay in each other's arms and sleepily watched the servant lay the table for breakfast through a blizzard of white lace. //Can you grab me something to wear, something a little more...more?\\ Her thoughts came to him as if he had formed them himself. She caught his bubble of amusement and the quick flash of regret as he lovingly traced his palm from her throat to her breast, the nipple clearly visible through the diaphanous black nightshift. A quick kiss and he rolled out of bed to search through the armoire to find her something to put on. The servant, an elderly male elf, wished him good day and carried on with his chores. Mulder tossed a silky wrap in to Scully, then turned toward the entrance to their room. "Hello?" Shannon's head poked through the door to their chamber. "Well, it's about time you two got up. Oh, great! Breakfast! I'm starved." Dressed in a flowing green underdress and gold bodice, she entered the room and plopped herself down on the cushions around the table. Only Realm etiquette kept her from helping herself to the many strange but tempting dishes until Mulder and Sculy finally seated themselves. "Sleep well?" Scully asked. "Great - and yourselves?" Shannon returned with a mischievous grin. "Never mind, spare me the details I'm too young to know about." Mulder and Scully both colored. "Just pass that yellow stuff," Mulder suggested, hoping the subject would change. "Sure." Shannon frowned and closed her eyes. Slowly, the bowl levitated, dipped alarmingly, and began moving in Mulder's general direction, picking up a dangerous amount of speed as it did so. A messy accident was averted only by his quick use of magic to halt the bowl and right it before it overturned in his lap. "Sorry," grinned the girl. "I wanted to surprise you." "You nearly surpassed your wildest expectations," Mulder retorted dryly. "Sorry," he called over to the servant, who was shaken by the unexpected display of magic. The elf scurried out of the room. "I think we have a little more work to do, Shannon, before you're not a danger to your tablemates." "I'm beginning to feel left out, " complained Scully, only half-kidding. "Try it - you'll never know if you can until you try. Go ahead," he urged "Take a shot at it. The principles and energies are very similar to what you use in healing." She looked at him questioningly, to see how serious he was. Then she felt his presence in her mind, giving support, helping guide her to focus her thoughts and ground the power. She concentrated on the bowl of yellow mush-like food that sat in front of Mulder, focusing her energies on it, on making it rise. Unnoticed, the rings they wore glowed brightly, the stones becoming almost luminescent. Slowly, the bowl rose a finger's breadth above the table, then flew up into the air where it hovered for some seconds before settling back down with a soft thud. She sat back, amazed and surprisingly drained. "Hey, not bad for a first try," commented her bondmate approvingly. "I must be rubbing off on you." //Mulder, you didn't-\\ //Well, I may have helped just a little.\\ His eyes were warm, his smile proud. Their gazes locked. "Hey guys - you said you'd cut that out!" Scully laughed. "Sorry, Shannon. You're right. Let's eat." Now a plethora of new taste experiences awaited them. Cuisine at Fairwoods Keep had been mostly those dishes favored by humans, except when Lita made one of her special elven treats. They had always assumed that the food there was pretty representative of that of other cultures in the Realm. They had all been too hungry and too exhausted to take much note of what they were eating the night before. Now they realized how sheltered their experience at the castle had been. Mulder helped himself to the yellow stuff with some misgiving, but found it delicious - an elven equivalent to porridge, but with an interesting honey-cinnamon flavor. The fruit juice which tasted like peppermint surprised them, but went well with the flatbread and sweet cakes that lay piled on their wooden platter. Cheeses in a rainbow of colors and differing flavors and textures sat nearby. Strange fruits were presented in a myriad of ways - whole, stewed, sliced, soaked in wine and spices. When they had tried all the offerings with varying degrees of satisfaction, Shannon pushed herself back from the table. "I'm going to the marketplace - are you two coming?" "We'll see you there as soon as we're dressed. And try to stay out of trouble," Mulder called with mock severity after her retreating form. He caught her laugh as the door closed. A candlemark later, they strolled through the marketplace side by side. Scully had chosen a flowing lightweight wool gown in white, which she had dubbed her "Princess Leia outfit" as soon as she saw it. Despite the bright sunlight, the air was crisp and cool, and she was glad for the long forest green wool tunic she had donned over the dress. A silver belt held her weapons. Mulder was clothed in brown leather breeches and a loose white shirt belted with leather, over which he wore his Mage cloak. The marketplace was a mass of beings, colors, aromas and sounds. Elves from remote villages spoke in a patois of New Realm and the old elven tongue, and the harsh gutturals of the ancient troll language could be heard. Traders cried their wares, minstrels played their odd stringed and wind instruments, and children shrieked with excitement. Here and there fights broke out among different beings, a sign of the tensions sweeping over the Realm, but Mavor's soldiers quickly broke them up. Food of every kind and description - some even defying identification - was offered at busy kiosks; everywhere beings seemed to be munching enjoyably on something. Pennants flew over the booths, bearing the age-old crests of the clan of the sellers. They checked in at the troll caravan, the wagons arranged in an arc, the sides let down to create platforms on which to display their goods. After their hard journey, Mulder and Scully were gratified to see that business was brisk. Krolgar waved happily to them before returning to bargain with two customers. "I'm not sure I'd buy a used car from him," commented Scully, "but he might make a first class negotiator for the State Department." Mulder smiled his agreement. They made several circuits of the marketplace. Scully, no poor negotiator herself, bought several small items - a lovely miniature tapestry and a couple of inexpensive but beautifully crafted pieces of jewelry for her mother. Mulder bought a short double- edged dagger in a tooled leather sheath. "It's for Skinner - he can use it as a letter opener." His bondmate looked at it doubtfully. It was very alien- looking, with Old Realm symbols on the sheath and the blade of a metal that was unknown in their world. "How are you going to explain it?" "I'm not. He may not even notice. And if he does, he won't ask, because he'll be afraid I'll tell him it's from Reticula. It'll drive him crazy," Mulder said with a grin. "Besides, it'll give me something comforting to look at on his desk when I go in to get my ass chewed." Scully laughed as he slipped the dagger into his belt. Furflot found them in the milling sea of beings, not as difficult a task as it sounded. Mulder was the tallest person in the crowd by at least half a meter, and his Mage cloak and aura would have located him even if his height hadn't. "Mage Mulder, Prince Mavor will be ready for you shortly. Will you join him?" "By all means, Furflot. I'm afraid we kind of lost track of time." The three left the hubbub of the marketplace for the cool serenity of the palace. After a series of turns and staircases, they were shown into Prince Mavor's private quarters. The elf sat at a worktable, writing. He was clad in the scarlet bordered with gold that was almost indistinguishable from Furflot's uniform. They bowed low in respect for both the being and his position. Smiling, Mavor rose and advanced toward them, extending his hand in greeting in a very un-Realm-like way. "Good to see you again, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully. It's been too long. I'm glad you could visit before you must return to your world." The bondmates looked at each other. As a staunch ally of Andalor, Mavor was privy to more knowledge of the happenings in Fairwoods Demesne than most. But they had always assumed that he knew only that they were from a distant land with different customs. Reinald had kept their origins secret from everyone but those involved in their arrival. Exactly how much did he know? Seeing their startled faces, he continued, "Yes, I know the whole story now - the Vortex, your world, Andalor's little trip there. Reinald and the Professor were most informative when I was at the castle for the coronation. Besides, I might have guessed that you weren't from our world. Certain versions of the Prophecy hinted strongly that our saviors from the Dark Creatures would come from well beyond our world." "We meant you no slight, Your Highness. It just seemed...less confusing, less alarming, if our origins remained unknown," Scully explained. "No offense taken. Will you join me for tea?" He indicated a low dining table and they settled themselves on the cushions. Pouring the tea, Mavor said, "Now, I understand you are on something of a quest." Mulder nodded and quickly summarized their mission - to find Hannu, for personal reasons as well as for the good of the Realm. "Hannu," the Prince replied thoughtfully. "Interesting. Well, in questions of the lifebond, you must certainly hope you find him. No one has as much knowledge about the lifebond as Hannu was reputed to have. It had been pretty well discounted as yet another myth - until you came, that is. I can't say if the physical problems you are experiencing are due to the uniqueness of the bond itself, or its affect on someone of your origins. Possibly Hannu can. I'll never forget the first time I saw you two together...." He paused several moments in reminiscence, then continued with energy. "Now, as to the cause of the ills befalling the Realm, I have no doubt of what it is - the Black Arts. Daily, the stench of black magic increases as the troubles worsen. A more difficult question would be who is causing it." "Do you have any ideas? I had thought that the Black Arts had been for the most part eradicated in the Realm," Mulder said. "In the Realm it has, but the Realm is but one part of our world. There are three main areas. The Realm covers but the central third. To the west, there is largely unsettled territory. Great deserts, barren plateaus, wild mountain ranges. Some of our unique beings - those you may have seen at the coronation, for example - come from some of those areas. They live in loose clans and call no man king. Then to the east, beyond the Mossy River to the north and the Greenswan River to the south, there is another area beyond the reach of the Realm. The whole eastern area of our world carries with it many strange tales - perhaps legends, perhaps the truth. But again, little is known for certain of the area and its peoples. So to answer your question, Mage Mulder, the Black Arts may flourish in these areas and the Realm would be none the wiser. If I had to make a guess about the source of the Realm's current ills, I would say certainly to the east, and possibly Witch Tears Swamp." "Mulder has told me the little he knows of the Swamp, that no sane being would travel through there - that and the Greenswan Forest. We're fairly close to there, aren't we?" asked Scully. "You have been advised well. Yes, we are too close for comfort sometimes, certainly too close to relax our vigilance. Every so often a creature strays from there, wreaking death and destruction on our people until we hunt it down. But at least Greenswan has never been associated with the Black Arts. Witch Tears Swamp, on the other hand...." "Tell us about it," urged Mulder, helping himself to more tea. "Witch Tears Swamp is in the extreme northeast part of our world. It is said that long ago it was ruled by a dynasty of Mage- kings who were practitioners of the Black Arts. They became a danger to our world, threatening to take over the Realm and everywhere else, for that matter. A consortium of Blue Mages - the most powerful practitioners of pure magic in the Realm - worked together to strip them of their power. Eventually, the dynasty ended - the Black Mage-king either driven out or killed. But...." The prince frowned. "But if the Black Mage-king is indeed gone, why do beings still avoid the Swamp? Is it merely superstition?" questioned Scully. The prince sighed. "Another of our legends, a little known one, tells of a daughter of the Black Mage-king, supposedly the only one of his family to survive. It is said she somehow managed to learn enough to not only control her power, but to actually increase it. There was supposed to have been a climactic battle between this Black Mage-queen and a Blue Mage - some say Hannu himself - after which both vanished without a trace." "Nothing vanishes without a trace," replied Scully, with a certain touch of irony. "And if this was Hannu who took part in the battle and he vanished, then we're wasting our time looking for him." The prince shook his head. "Not necessarily. It is said that Hannu reappeared after a very long period of time, then immediately retreated from the world." "And if Hannu could reappear," Mulder continued thoughtfully, "presumably the Black Mage-queen could too." "Precisely." The three finished their tea in ruminative silence. A queen out for revenge, with almost unlimited power and proficient in the Black Arts, could certainly explain the uncharacteristic hatred and violence rife in the Realm. "So how do we find Hannu?" the young Mage asked finally. "Unfortunately, it means turning to another of our legends." Mavor rose and crossed the high-beamed room to a tall bookcase and plucked a volume from a shelf. He returned to the table and handed the book to Scully. She leafed through the pages blankly, then passed it on to Mulder who was proficient in the Old Realm language of the book. He read silently for several minutes, then closed the volume and gave it back to Mavor. "Apparently his whereabouts are secret, and he is kind of - there isn't a direct translation for the word, but 'protected' is close enough - from the world by both magic and a few select beings," Mulder explained. "The story goes that the beings will let a chosen few pass to see Hannu, but not until they solve some sort of problem he presents." He looked meaningfully at Scully. "Daanna's dream!" she exclaimed. "'You have to pass the test'." He nodded, then turned toward Prince Mavor. "How reliable are these legends?" "No one knows. But they're the only information we have." Mulder rose, offering a hand to Scully. "Thank you, Your Highness. You've been a great help." He walked them to the door of his chamber. "I hope you plan to attend the party tonight. We have a celebration every spring which coincides with the Spring Market Fair. All are invited. We had given some thought to canceling in view of the interspecies difficulties, but instead decided to present an example of how the species could get along. I know there have been some problems in the marketplace, but they have not been serious, and I would not want to disappoint my people who look forward to this event with great anticipation." "We'd be honored to attend," said Scully. "Thank you." He nodded, smiling. "Your servants will give you ample time to prepare. I plan to rest now for tonight - elven parties are long, energetic affairs. I suggest you do the same." They left the prince and strolled the corridors of the palace arm in arm. "What now, love? Back to the marketplace to see what damage my halla is doing, or take Mavor's advice and rest up so we can party hearty?" "I don't know, what do you feel like doing, Mulder? Because it's a cinch that after yesterday, we have to stick within sight of each other or suffer the consequences." "I've got a pretty low tolerance for shopping. And if Shannon is turning the marketplace upside down, I don't want to know about it. I'm feeling lazy - how about a nap?" Scully smiled and squeezed his arm. "One of your better suggestions." - - - - - At dawn two mornings later, Scully smiled over at the still sleeping form of her bondmate as she packed their belongings. The extra day they had spent at Fairwoods Glens had been worth it - the trolls got more time to trade, and they had more time to recover from their journey thus far and the incredible party two nights previous. Elves knew how to party. Indeed, they gave the trolls a run for their money when it came to excessive partying. There was more food than Scully had ever seen before in one place, and somehow, all of it had been consumed by the time the party broke up at dawn the following morning. She and Shannon had quickly learned the old elf folk dances, and never lacked for partners. Mulder had joined in on some, but for the most part was content to see her whirling throughout the room in her sea-green gown, her auburn hair loose, her cheeks pink with exertion and excitement. Only two fist fights occurred to mar the occasion, but the miscreants were separated and led out to cool off overnight in the dungeon, and the party continued as if the incidents hadn't happened. She had also learned to her chagrin that elven Spring Punch might taste like an innocuous fruity concoction, but it tended to give human overimbibers a nightmare of a hangover. She and Shannon had crept around their chambers the day after the party, unable to do anything more strenuous than read, and found that turning the pages was too deafening for their pounding heads to withstand. Mulder, who had been warned off the punch by a concerned Furflot, was not afflicted except for the echo of Scully's discomfort he received through their bond. Since Scully was not up to going out and their bond seemed to have a problem with their being separated, Mulder invited Mavor to join him in their chamber. The two spent the day bent over the scroll Reinald had given him, trying to decipher the ancient language with no success whatsoever. A timid knock sounded on the door, and Shannon stuck her head in. "Jhorgab's here. Time to go." Scully nodded. "We're just about ready. And how are you this morning?" Shannon smiled wanly. "I'm hoping the fresh air will help. Dana, if I EVER do that again, for God's sake, STOP me!" "One of life's little lessons we all have to learn. If I had known what a punch that punch packed, I would have stopped both of us. Is anything else wrong, Shannon? You don't seem yourself this morning." Shannon sat down on a cushion by the hearth. "I don't know, Dana. I haven't been sleeping very well. I don't know what the heck it is. I lie down and get relaxed and then I just start thinking and my mind keeps going around and around." Scully tucked the last memento in her saddlebag and went to sit next to the troubled girl. "Anything I can help with? Are you thinking about anything in particular?" "Yeah...a couple of things, actually. Like what I'm going to do when you and Mulder go back to our world." "I know that's going to be a big decision for you. Any idea of what you're going to do yet? I mean, I wish we all could stay here in a way, but it's just not possible." "Oh, I know that, Dana. And I think I've just about made up my mind to stay here when you leave." Scully nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. She and Mulder had also discussed innumerable times what would be best for Shannon's future. She knew he had offered to support her, to send her to any school she wanted, and have her live with them on school holidays. Mulder was taking his responsibilities as the girl's guardian extremely seriously. But more importantly, he had grown to love her like the little sister he had lost so long ago, whom Shannon more than remotely resembled. Scully knew that while staying in the Realm might be the best choice Shannon could make for herself, it would be another loss for her bondmate to endure. "You said a couple of things had been bothering you." "Yeah, well, you'll probably like this one even less," Shannon replied. "I've been thinking a lot - maybe too much - about Andy." "Just what do you mean by 'thinking'?" "You know, that I like him...a lot. And I miss him more than I thought I would. An awful lot more than I thought I would. Wondering what he's doing, is he safe, that kind of thing." "And wondering if he's thinking those same things about you." She smiled shyly. "Well...yeah." "Hey, kiddo - how's it going?" Mulder had emerged from the bed, hair tousled with sleep. "Feeling better today?" "Oh, yeah, I'm really up for a nice long horseback ride to Dreegan," Shannon replied dryly. "Good," said Scully, rising. "Because that's exactly what we'll be doing. About half a candlemark, Mulder." She shouldered the two saddlebags, grabbed another sack of supplies, and left to organize their departure. "I couldn't help but overhear..." "I was afraid of that," Shannon said glumly, as Mulder sat near her. He nodded, and his eyes, deadly serious, locked with hers. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Shannon. There's no future in it. That's not your fault, it's not his. It's just the way things are here. I wish it could be otherwise for both you and Andalor." "But I can't help how I feel." Tears welled up in the girl's honey-colored eyes. "I know, dear. Whatever Dana and I can do, we will, you know that. But this culture has been around a lot longer than any of us, and it will be around long after we're gone. We're not going to change it...we have no right to." As she began to weep in earnest, he slid over and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry." He held her and stroked her hair until she calmed, then she sniffed and pulled away. "Never mind. He probably doesn't feel the same way about me, anyway." "He'd be crazy not to." Mulder's look spoke volumes, and the girl blushed prettily. "Okay, kiddo. Scram while I get washed and dressed. Go help Scully saddle the horses - and DON'T try to take a shortcut and use your magic. We'll have a stampede on our hands!" Shannon giggled and went to join Scully in the courtyard. Within the candlemark, they had rejoined the troll caravan and were on the road to Dreegan. End of Chapter Eleven THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twelve The road from Fairwood Glens to Dreegan skirted the edge of the Greenswan forest. They cut across rolling hills getting closer and closer to the mountain peaks that rose above them in the distance. Most of the surrounding population was elven, with a few stray humans thrown in. Trolls rarely came this far south, which made the caravan something of a spectacle. More than once the farmers and their families stopped in mid-planting, leaving hoes and workbeasts aside, to watch wide-eyed as the wagons rolled past. The trolls took the attention with easy good-humor, waving their curved, long- fingered hands in greeting as they passed by. For her part, Scully was content to ride peacefully. Despite the brief respite that Fairwood Glens had provided, this journey had been fraught with trouble. It had only been by lucky chance that she, Mulder and Shannon had not been injured during the bandit attack a few days ago, and the weight of healing so many others had drawn deeply upon her reserves of strength and herbal supplies. Of course, the heavy partying with the elves hadn't done her much good either, she thought ruefully. Sensing her somber mood, Mulder reached out to her with silent reassurance. //Are you all right?\\ //Yes...\\ She turned to look up into his deep hazel eyes, and forced out a smile. But the expression turned genuine within an instant of seeing his face. //Yes, love, I'm fine. Just a little worried. Wondering what's going to leap out at us next.\\ //I know,\\ Mulder replied, //but it's hard to be on edge all the time. Sooner or later, you have to let your guard down, or you'll go crazy.\\ There was a wealth of meaning in his words, and she reached out to him physically this time. They were, as they had been for several days now, staying close to each other's side. Separation, even for short periods of time, left them both feeling physically sick and emotionally raw. After a separation that morning had caused Mulder to snap unpleasantly at Shannon, they had agreed, without needing to verbalize it, that they would avoid being parted for any length of time. His fingers closed over hers, and she felt the tension ease from her body. Just feeling his skin next to hers was a balm to her senses. Yet, it also left a tingly desire for more, deeper contact. She had always been a carefully controlled person, guarding her privacy, and she didn't understand why she could so easily welcome public interaction with her lover, even to the point that if he had wished to, she'd have made love to him in full view of the entire caravan. //Now *that* has possibilities,\\ he teased lightly, catching the flash of images directly from her mind. She gave him a look of disapproval, then sighed, squeezing his fingers between her own. //I hope this Hannu can help us. As much as I love your company, this is getting ridiculous.\\ //Yeah,\\ he agreed thoughtfully. //The information Mavor gave us seems to contain more questions than answers. But it does sound as though Hannu is the one person who might have some idea of what is happening to us. I love being with you, but we can't live or function if we can't get more than a few paces apart without freaking out.\\ //Freaking out?\\ she repeated with a feather-light chuckle. He grinned unabashedly at her, his mind aglow with affection and understanding. //Got a better description for it?\\ His eyes were sparkling like emeralds in the sunlight as he prepared for her response. //Not really, but...\\ She was interrupted before she could finish the thought. "Mage Mulder," Shannon called out insistently, her long black braid flying out behind her as she deftly raced her horse up besides them. Jhorgab followed close behind his new compatriot, his green-skinned face bright with anticipation. "Mage Mulder," she said breathlessly. "Is it time for my lesson yet? I said Jhorg could watch, if that's OK." "I will be no trouble or disturbance at all," the troll said expansively. "I will watch silently, and stay well out of the way. But I am quite fascinated by magic. It is very rare among trolls, so we do not get much opportunity to study it in action..." "Be quiet, Jhorg," Shannon told him, with a quick, impatient glance over her shoulder. Even as he sputtered a suitably long-winded apology, she was turning back to Mulder. "Please, Taabsut Mulder. I want to try that levitation thingy again." Mulder and Scully shared a quick glance of amusement, then Mulder looked gravely at young pupil. "All right, Shannon. But before we try the more complicated spell, I think it would be a good idea to do some more work on your shielding. It's still less stable than I'd like." "Oh, do we have to?" Shannon came just short of whining. She hated these exercises, they always gave her a massive headache without any sensation of accomplishing anything. But Mulder simply stared firmly at her. "Oh all right," she muttered. "Good," he smiled at her. "Now don't forget..." "To ground and center. I know." Closing her eyes, she repeated the now familiar steps. The electric tingle she now recognized as magical energy was recalcitrant, but she was able to seize hold of it and push. Down towards the ground she urged it, feeling the earth as a firm anchor beneath her, then she reached inside and tried to calm herself. That was always the hardest part, trying to keep her excitement and anticipation from disrupting her control. But more than once she'd learned the hard way that she was in for a literal shock if she didn't. Control was a Mage's watchword, and she had learned to appreciate the need. So she fought for and gained peace at the center of herself, then slowly opened her eyes and nodded towards Mulder to signify that she was ready. "Good," he told her. "Now, slowly, lift your shield." She had come to see this, almost visually, as a shimmering blue curtain of light between her and the rest of the world. If she squinched her eyes just right, she could almost see it coat her skin in an azure glow. Mulder's was much clearer, she didn't doubt that if he wished it, anyone, even the most magic-blinded troll could see it clearly. Hers was a pale, faint mist, swirling around the edges of her vision. "That's it," Mulder told her approvingly. "Better." Shannon smiled, the expression just short of being a grimace. It was hard to maintain this for long, but it was easier than it had been the day before. She held onto the shield tight, preparing for Mulder's push. His energy swelled, and she could feel it sing, calling out to her own. Even before he began to probe at her shield, she could feel the aftershock of his power. It was demanding, fiery, ready to rage at the slightest slip of his control. But he wielded it like a fine instrument, sending only the slightest jolt to brush against her shield. Her entire body shook in the saddle, startling her horse, and the animal almost bolted. Her concentration slipped as she grabbed for the reins, and her own aura flared out of control. "Shannon!" Mulder called out, dampening down on the power with a quickly recited chant. "I'm sorry," she said when she finally had the horse soothed down. "It's all right," he replied. "We shouldn't be doing this under these conditions anyway. Perhaps we should wait until we camp for the night." "No, I'll be okay," Shannon argued, but it was easy to tell his mind was already settled. She glanced over to Scully, but the older woman gave her a quick shake of her head. "Mulder's right, Shannon. It won't be long now." "What happened?" Jhorgab finally interrupted, bouncing in his saddle with barely repressed frustration. "I didn't see anything! Did you use magic, Shannon?" "Well, sort of," Shannon replied with a sigh. "But it didn't quite work right." "What was it supposed to do?" Jhorgab demanded with irrepressible curiosity. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances of amusement as Shannon attempted to explain, her words constantly interrupted by new questions from her friend. The two adults nudged their horses ahead, sharing a smile as Shannon's voice rang out in frustration. "You could let me finish a sentence once in a while, you know?" - - - - - They camped in a small clearing beside a rocky stream. The water was clear and fresh, and the trolls were quick to harvest the silver-scaled fish that swam swiftly through the shallow rapids. Soon the campfires were lit, and the evening meal under way within a closed circle of wagons. Due to the previous attack, the guard was doubled, and the sentries stood at sharper alert. Every sound that trickled in from the surrounding countryside was suspect, but nothing came out of the night. Within the center of the camp, Mulder and Scully chatted quietly with Krolgar while Jhorgab and Shannon joined four other trolls for an exuberant game of cards. From a distance it reminded Mulder some of poker, though the rules appeared to be much more intricate. Though that could be less the rules and more Jhorgab's inability to say in one sentence what he could in four. Mulder chuckled under his breath, then turned his attention back to Scully as she bent her ear to Krolgar. Mulder registered the conversation, mostly focused on Krolgar's travels in the northern part of the Realm, with one part of his brain, while the rest focused on trying to solve the riddle of Reinald's ancient scrolls. The script was still indecipherable for the most part, though he had made some progress with the archaic Old Realm preamble. But even so, he was certain that he was missing an important key. A sudden gust of wind sent a chill down Mulder's back. Tensing, he turned just in time to see the campfire roar with the breeze, sending a shower of sparks into the air. His stomach hit his pelvis hard, as his skin prickled with goosebumps. He was already on his feet when the wind shifted direction, sweeping through the fire and throwing long fingers of flame in his direction. "Scully!" he shouted out, panic racing along every nerve in his body. At his warning, Scully and Krolgar leapt to their feet, barely getting out of the way of the fire as it began to rage out of control. Sparks flew in every direction, batted around by swirling gusts of suddenly heated air, landing on grass and clothing and skin, bursting into open flames. Mulder raised his hands, the power surging within him, only to be confronted by a blossoming flower of fire. The heat singed his throat, burning at his eyes, and he froze with fear. "Noooo," he moaned, shrinking away, yet unable to move his feet. Scully grabbed his arm in an attempt to draw him back to safer ground, but he was rooted to the spot. "Mulder!" she shouted, and then again. //MULDER!!!\\ He didn't respond. His eyes dilated, tears dripping unheeded in a physiological attempt to protect the sensitive organs from the searing air. He was shell-shocked with horror, unable to respond, even as the fire blazed in his direction like a living thing. //MULDER!!!\\ Scully tried again. "Damn it, Mulder, snap out of it!" She grabbed him and shoved as hard as she could. He stumbled, then crumbled to the ground. The shock of impact brought him out of his panic, and his eyes focused on her face. Her hair glowed around her face, reflecting the firelight. Her eyes, like crystalline sky, fixed on his and drew him into her. //Mulder, listen to me. I know you're afraid, but you *can* handle this. You've done so before. I'm with you. Take my hand, Mulder, take my hand.\\ His eyes, as open as those of a startled deer, slid down to her outstretched hand, and trembling, he reached for it. Their fingers brushed, then clung, her touch invigorating him. He got to his feet quickly, then ducked aside to avoid another shower of glittering sparks. "Come on!" he cried, drawing her after him as he ran away from the inferno that threatened to engulf the entire camp. Only when he was certain that Scully was safe, did he turn back towards the fire. His jaw worked hard, while his features tightened into chiseled marble. Without releasing Scully's hand, he lifted his free hand and pointed it towards the unruly blaze. "STOP!" he commanded. The fire sputtered, almost seeming to swerve away from him. He stretched his spine fully, reaching his hand towards the sky. "STOP!" he demanded again, and this time he was answered by the thunderclap. A great darkness obscured the moons and stars, centering above their camp, and then with a bright flare of lightening, followed by a near-deafening thunderclap, the skies opened and buckets of rain flowed downward onto the raging fire. The elements clashed to the symphony of the storm until the fire gave way and died. The rain fell in a closed circle upon the freshly charred ground turning ashes to mud. The water pooled in a tiny area, as though held in place by an invisible barrier, until with one last roar of thunder, the rain ceased and the flood ran loose from the center of the camp. - - - - - She felt the impact of the rainstorm, the power surging back towards her, sending electric tingles up her arms. She gasped and released her hold on the inky sphere, yanking shut her connection with the events playing themselves out in a distant part of the Realm. So close! She'd almost had him. It had not been easy to discern his fear of fire, so deeply buried was the phobia, but when she'd found it, she had crowed with delight. So little energy required to send the campfire blazing out of control, and his reaction had been immensely satisfying. Such an incredible rush of fear and horror. And then, suddenly, it had disappeared. Something had blocked her out, shutting off the feed of black energy from his mind to hers. The shutdown had happened so quickly, his power had surged so strongly, that she couldn't even determine what the cause of the interference had been. One moment she had been drinking in his strength, the next she had been left reeling, her mind nearly shattered by the wave of pure clean energy. When she had recovered enough to voice an audible response, she screamed viciously. Her red-nailed hand swept out, tossing objects at random, forcing goblets and books to scatter across the stone floor. She pulled herself back up to the boiling blackened crystal and reached for it with still-shaking hands. This shouldn't have happened, and she needed to know how he had been able to break her hold upon him. This would obviously require more time and preparation than she had anticipated. Perhaps a more subtle approach would be required until she knew more. Her eyes sparkled, joylessly, as she began to consider possibilities. This might not be as rewarding as open bloodshed, but there was a certain pleasure in watching her inferiors scurry in response to events they did not understand - - - - - They were lucky the damage wasn't more severe. There hadn't been much rain recently in this part of the Realm and if Mulder had not called down the storm, the fire could have destroyed far more than the caravan itself. The damage was still severe enough to require a long night of hard work from the trolls and their human companions. Scully and Gyruth were relieved to find that none of the burns were severe enough to be life-threatening, but they were soon exhausted by the need to soothe the pain and fear of those who had been scorched by the runaway flame. Mulder, for his part, was still shaken by his experience. He'd thought he'd managed to overcome the worst of his phobia during that long-ago case in Boston. Obviously he hadn't. He watched the trolls scurrying around to check the amount of damage to their wares and belongings, castigating himself quite thoroughly for not responding as quickly or as effectively as he should have. What's the use of having immense power, if you can't manage to use it properly when needed? Shannon came up beside him, but didn't bother to speak. It hadn't been difficult to sense the torment he was suffering, Mulder had a way of holding himself when he was in pain that spoke volumes. He looked distant, his eyes focused inward, not with the joyful sparkle that lit them when he was conversing with Scully, but instead with a somber darkness that seemed impenetrable. She waited with him for a while, hoping he would snap out of it. Scully was nearby, as she had to be, but was lost in a healer's trance, unable to offer her bondmate the comfort he needed. Or the kick in the butt. So it was left to her to do it, Shannon decided. Goodness knows she owed her guardian a lot. Just when she thought she'd lost everything, he'd taken her into his heart and given her a home. So there was no way she was going to let him stand there and beat himself up because he'd panicked briefly in a difficult situation. "Mulder?" she called out, tugging at his arm. He didn't respond, still staring off into space. "Mulder!" she grabbed him and yanked hard. He trembled, then finally turned to look at her. His expression was smooth, the anguish showing only in his too open eyes and the lines etched around him mouth. "It's not your fault," she insisted. "I should have..." "You were frightened. So what? We all get that way sometimes, and besides, you stopped the fire. "It almost stopped me." "You're afraid of it." He chuckled harshly. "I'm terrified of it." "But you beat it!" she insisted. "Did I?" He shook his head. "Yes! Mulder, listen to me. We're all scared of something, most of us are scared of everything. Don't beat yourself up about it. Aldara says that understanding and accepting your fear is a necessary part of life." Mulder shook his head, having trouble imagining the vibrant little warrior being frightened of anything. Except.... He turned and looked at Shannon. She smiled and touched his arm reassuringly. "It's okay to be afraid. Just don't let it get the better of you. And don't you dare beat yourself up." She glanced pointedly towards Scully bent over one of the burnt trolls. Mulder followed his ward's amber gaze, unable to stop the corners of his mouth tilting upward at the sight. "Scully'd be furious with me." "Yes, and I for one don't want to be around if she is," Shannon replied ruefully. Mulder couldn't help it, he starting chucking. Shannon grinned at him. "Feeling better?" Shaking himself like a wet dog, he rolled his shoulders back, releasing some of the heavy weight of tension. "I guess so. Thanks," he said sincerely. Shannon smiled. "I figure I owe you one. Besides, I've got an ulterior motive. A couple of the wagons are a bit mired in mud because of the storm and Krolgar wants everyone to help dig them out. You made it rain - you get to deal with the mud!" Winking at him, she walked away. Mulder groaned aloud, swept the damp hair out of his eyes, and with one last glance at Scully, turned and followed. - - - - - They were cursed. There could be no question about it. The morning after the fire had dawned bright and pleasant, and they had set off again with relieved spirits. The light mood had not lasted long. By midday, they'd already had to deal with one broken wheel, one overturned wagon, lame animals, a seemingly endless expanse of potholes in the road, and a spotty drizzle that sent chills down their spines. Above them, the sun continued to shine as though it was mocking them, and Krolgar took to shaking his fist at it in frustrated anger. "It won't help," Mulder observed wryly as he rode up beside the heavy-set troll merchant. "Maybe, but it makes *me* feel better. H'Portil'see curse this road. It's been one problem after another. I'm almost afraid to see what is around the next bend." Krolgar sighed expansively. "I know," Mulder had to agree. Glancing behind him to check on Scully, deep in conversation with Shannon and Jhorgab, he rubbed at his chin. "It does have me worried. I don't like having quite so many accidents happen so close together. I suppose it could just be a run of bad luck, but I've never been a believer in coincidences." Krolgar gave him a sharp look. "Do you think...?" Mulder shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I can't discern any significant trace of magic, but it wouldn't take anything too complicated to cause these kinds of troubles. And I haven't done a thorough search either. I've just been keeping my senses open for anything out of the ordinary." He gazed around him steadily. "So far, nothing..." Krolgar frowned, his thick-browed face settling into a menacing scowl. "It might, perhaps, be wise for you to do that search. If we are carrying some kind of curse, it will not do to let it sit upon us. Already we have come close to disaster twice. We cannot take any more chances." Mulder nodded. "I'll do it when we stop for lunch," he glanced up at the sky, "which should be soon. It'll be easier to focus if we aren't moving." "Good," Krolgar agreed. "Thank you, Mage Mulder." - - - - - Scully watched anxiously as Mulder walked from wagon to wagon, lighting up each in a pale azure glow, then moving on to the next, his face darkened in concentration. She could feel the drain on his strength, and she wished she had more to give him. But she too was worn out from the needs of this journey, and could only watch and wait for him to finish. When he was done, he returned to her side, slowly shaking his head. "What is it?" she asked. "There's nothing, and yet...." He sat down wearily, and she reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back against her and she cradled him gently. "I think there's something there, but it's not a specific spell. Most curses of this kind would have a focus, an object or a person onto which the disruptive magic has been grafted. I didn't find anything of the sort. But over everything I did find a slight 'whiff' of magic, very unpleasant magic. The problem is that the 'smell' of this is very familiar - it's been the same for the past couple of weeks. A sense that 'something wicked this way came.'" "You think this could be cause of all the recent trouble, like in Fawnleaf and Coldshores?" He bit at his lower lip, then angled his head around to meet her eyes. "I think that's a safe assumption, but it doesn't really tell us much. Or give us a solution for dealing with it. I've put a protective spell on the caravan as best I can, but without something in particular to guard against, the spell becomes so general that it looses it's oomph." "Oomph?" She question with a teasing smile. He made a face at her, then suddenly relaxed. "Yeah, its 'oomph.' But it will have to do." "You've done the best you can, and we're doing all right. Krolgar says we should make Dreegan by nightfall without too much trouble, even at our present rate." Mulder reached around to pull her into his lap. She settled there happily, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I hope so. I miss even the relative privacy of an inn." He managed a sly grin. She laughed, leaning forward to press her forehead to his. "Me too." - - - - - The first couple of candlemarks past the lunch break went smoothly enough that Mulder began to relax. Perhaps that protective spell had done it's job after all... << ROAR>> "What the hell was that?" Mulder desperately tried to rein in his startled horse. Shouts rang out throughout the caravan, mixed with a symphony of unearthly howls. Scully and Shannon had their swords out before Mulder even turned to look at them. He reached for his own, drawing it out of its scabbard just barely in time to bring it to bear between him and the animal as it launched itself in his direction. He caught only the bright orange gleam of its eyes, and a glimpse of long ivory fangs, before the impact of close to two hundred pounds of muscle and bone slammed into the flat of his blade. His horse whinnied in terror, leaping sideways, while Mulder twisted in his saddle, desperately trying to bring the sword around. The giant cat snarled as it hit the ground, deprived for the moment of its prey. Mulder couldn't take his eyes off it, even to search for Scully. He could feel her presence in the back of his mind, focused, clear, icy, as she threw herself into the battle with characteristic determination. His muscles burning, he knew that quick touch of her would have to be enough, for as the huge animal hunched its powerful shoulders in preparation for another assault, he had his hands full enough. He nearly lost the horse in the next attack, but he managed to score first blood. Even so, he tumbled to the ground, his terror stricken steed bolting down the road, blood dripping from claw marks in its side and belly. Mulder rolled a complete somersault, barely managing to keep from skewering himself on his own sword, but finally managed to come upright still intact. The cape swirled around his legs, and he considered trying to rid himself of the annoying garment. But the hungry cat didn't give him the chance. Snarling, it paced towards him, rising up on its mighty hindquarters to bat its massive front leg at him, the claws distended. Swiftly, he darted aside, swinging the sword around to stab it in the side. It howled in rage, turning its enormous head in his direction. Its eyes blazed at him, drawing back an inch in preparation for another attack. Mulder drew in a deep gulp of air, desperately oxygenating his muscles for the fight ahead. With a low growl it sprung at him, straight at the silver of his sword as he sliced it through the air. It struck hard on one of the distended fangs, striking enamel with a loud clank that reverberated up his arms and shoulders. He pulled back, the cat pressed in, and he found himself pressed back against one of the wagons. It tossed its head side-to-side before attacking again, giving him just enough time to lift the sword. It leapt towards him, he slid sideways, bringing the sword down towards its eyes. In the same instant, the point of his blade cut deeply into the animal's right eye and its claws raked across his left arm. Both screamed out in pain, Mulder falling backwards onto the ground, the cat rearing up, howling its agony at the sky. Gore dripped from its face as it hovered over him, the stench of its breath catching at his lungs. For one terrible moment, he thought he was dead, his eyes drawn helplessly to those foot-long fangs as they aimed for his chest. In that instant, his mind called out for Scully, sending a waterfall of emotion down their link, and as though in answer, a surge of energy flowed back through him, blue sparks shimmering on the bloody silver of his blade. With a desperate effort, he brought the sword up between them and struck out just before the cat could tear into his chest. He struck it hard just below the jaw, and the swirling Mage-power focused up through his arms, through the sword, and into the giant animal. It shook, convulsing, screaming, as though it had been struck by a massive bolt of lightning. Finally, it collapsed half on top of him, its huge head lolling across his chest. Mulder tensed, but it did not move, except for the slightest tremble. His sword was still embedded in its chest, and it took all of his remaining physical strength to yank it free. Sliding the weapon off to the side, he wriggled himself free of the massive body of the animal, staggering as he tried to get back to his feet, his eyes darting anxiously around to assess the situation. "Mulder!" Shannon cried out his name, and he turned and ran in her direction. She and Jhorgab were fending off another of the huge beasts, the tiny troll darting in and out, barely missing being swallowed practically whole by the snarling mouth. Shannon fought fiercely, wielding her sword as though it was an extension of her flesh. But they were still hard-pressed against the hungry, enraged beast, and Mulder didn't even bother recovering his abandoned sword. Drawing in a deep breath, he began a careful chant, drawing on the tattered remnants of his strength to cast the spell. Blue fire aced from his fingertips, striking the cat, and freezing it in place. Shannon stabbed it once more, then jerked backwards as the spell reached out for her. Jhorgab grabbed her and pulled her away, leaving her sword suspended in the air, the point barely touching the coat of the bespelled animal. "Are you all right?" Mulder managed to ask, though his skin had bleached pale. She nodded weakly, as Jhorgab helped her over to him. Even as he reached out to wrap his arms around the shaky girl, his mind was ranging outwards, seeking for his bondmate. He *knew* she was not badly injured or dead, because he'd have sensed that instantly. But he could tell she was outside the comfortable range of their lifebond - his stomach was already revolting at her absence, his head was beginning to ache. Emotion pooled within him, the frustration of her absence scratching at his nerves. Of course, some of the ill feeling was caused by the too-close-call he'd just been through, but he was far too familiar with the "distance-sickness" not to recognize the symptoms. //SCULLY!!\ he cried out along the length of their bond, and his entire body trembled with relief when she responded with a flood of emotion, mostly a mirror to his own relief, colored by sadness and grief. //Mulder,\\ she replied. // Krolgar and his two sons are all right, but Gyruth is badly injured. I'm going to have to stay with him.\\ Her mind voice was filled with sorrow and regret, colored by her own irritable response to their separation. He could feel her temper straining against her self-control, and he responded with silent understanding. //Where are you? I'll come to you.\\ Her relief and gratitude washed over him, followed by a curling edge of fear. //Is it over?\\ //I think so,\\ he replied, stretching out his mind, even as he used his eyes to survey the situation. There were a couple more dead cats, and three of four trolls laying mangled on the ground. He felt sorrow and rage swell within him, forcing the sky above to darken ominously. Closing his eyes, he brought himself back under control, then reached out silently, reassuringly, to Scully, even as he began to walk quickly towards her, barely restraining the desire to run heedlessly. //Yes, it's over...\\ For now, he added silently, keeping the thought to himself. - - - - - They limped into Dreegan that night, the weary travelers guiding exhausted horses, the wagons burdened as much with the wounded as with the wares for sale. The worst was the knowledge that they were now carrying three dead bodies as well. Gyruth had not survived despite Scully's best efforts, and two of the troll guards had gone down as well. They had dealt with death before, even with senseless deaths, but still, the suddenness of the attacks and the horror of the result had shaken all of the travelers to the core. When they reached the closest inn, Krolgar had hardly argued with the innkeeper, settling for a price that was almost certainly too high, yet unimportant to the weary trolls and their human companions. The chores of settling wares, wagons, and horses down for the night were done quickly, efficiently and silently. Little effort for conversation was spared over the welcome hot meal, and no one lingered in the busy dining room, all filtering up to their rooms as soon as their hunger was satisfied. The next morning was spent dealing with the wounded and the dead, arranging for the bodies to be placed in stasis until they could be returned to their families, and repairing damage to the wooden vehicles. Mulder did all that he could to help, finding his strength tasked less by the magic expenditures as by Scully's absence. She felt bound to offer whatever help and assistance she could to the village healer, suddenly overrun by the number of wounded trolls. They had not wanted to separate, and had felt the effects quickly. By noon, both were irritable, trembling with undirected edginess and nausea, heads aching, hands shaky. Gesturing to the human healer that she was leaving, unwilling to attempt even to speak for fear she would offend someone unnecessarily, Scully escaped into the bright sunshine and went in search of her bondmate. As disturbed as she, Mulder met her in the courtyard of the inn, simply opening up his arms for her to bury herself within. God, he felt *so good*, she thought breathlessly, her entire body coming alert as he enclosed her in his embrace. He smelled of horses, sweat and dirt, and yet, it was the most wonderful smell in the world. She could feel his heart beating beneath her cheek, and she nuzzled in closer, treasuring the sensation of his woolen cloak abrading the skin of her face. All of the tension, the helpless anger and frustration, the weakness fled, leaving her bathed in a soothing warmth, both physical and mental. //I missed you,\\ he whispered into her mind. //I love you,\\ she returned, shifting slightly against his body so that she could close her arms around his shoulders. //We can't do this anymore,\\ she continued, tilting her head up so that she could look into his eyes. Those keen hazel orbs were filled with a sweet passion, reflecting her image back at her. //Not until we find Hannu and he can tell us what's happening.\\ //I know,\\ he answered wryly, leaning down to brush her forehead with his lips, the tender contact sending electric shivers across her scalp. //I nearly broke a few things this morning instead of fixing them. And I may not have done these people's opinion of Mages much good. I came within inches of singeing a couple of stableboys.\\ //Not good, Mulder.\\ She thought, even as she gazed at his mouth with hungry appreciation. //Yeah, I should apologize....\\ //Later,\\ she replied, digging her fingers into his hair to draw him to her for a long-awaited kiss. "Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully!" An insistent voice interrupted. They clung for a breath longer, praying the intruder would go away, but he did not. Instead, a small hand grabbed hold of Mulder's arm and tugged. "Mage Mulder, I am so terribly sorry to interrupt you at this moment, but my uncle wishes to see you right away. I would not have disturbed you, but he is quite insistent that you come now. He is in a terrible mood, I am afraid, and I am sorry to subject you to him. But do not worry, while he yells a lot - in fact he yells *quite* a lot - he would never really hurt anyone. He just likes to be loud..." "Jhorgab!!!" Mulder reluctantly released his hold on Scully, unobtrusively sliding his hand down to close upon hers. She squeezed his fingers, turning to lean the back of her head against his chest. Jhorgab blinked, then bobbed his head at them. "Ahhh, then, you are ready now to come, yes?" "Yes Jhorgab," Scully replied with amusement. "Lead on..." - - - Krolgar was indeed yelling when Jhorgab found him in the inn's busy main room. Mulder and Scully took the chairs Jhorgab offered, sitting down to wait while the elder troll finished castigating one of his assistants. While they were waiting, Shannon wandered over, her face flushed with exertion. Mulder got up and dragged over a chair for her, which she accepted gratefully. All three sat quietly, happy to have a few moments to relax. Finally Krolgar was finished, and he turned to glower at Jhorgab who was standing beside him, an anxious look on his flat, bushy-browed face. "What is it, youngling?" "You wanted to see Mage Mulder," Jhorgab announced. Krolgar growled, but nodded, settling his massive body down in a chair that creaked beneath his weight. "Ahhh, so I did." He grabbed a big tanker of ale and took a large gulp, then slammed it back down on the table, the contents sloshing dangerously. Ignoring the film of foam around his mouth, the troll merchant nodded seriously at the two humans. "Thank you for coming, Mage, Warrior. I am afraid that I must tell you that we will be staying on here for at least a week. We are short on supplies, and as you probably know, Mage Mulder, we will require some extensive repairs. Several of my people are seriously wounded, and I may need to hire replacements and additional guards. So we will need to do the rest of our trading here, and then we will be turning back. The times have become suddenly dangerous for merchants such as myself. Never in my life have I had such a difficult journey." He shook his head. "I do not know what the Realm is coming to!" "I'm sorry," Mulder offered exchanging a glance with Scully. "I'm sure King Andalor's doing everything he can to solve the problems. In the meantime, I hope we have managed to be of some help to you." "Oh you have. Indeed," Krolgar hurried to reassure him. "We could not have made it this far without your able assistance. But I am afraid that we will not be going any further south. I know you are headed towards Goodearth Caverns, but we will not be able to take you there ourselves." He frowned massively. "A shame, the gargoyles are quite profitable trading partners." Mulder and Scully exchanged glances, then Mulder nodded solemnly. "I understand completely, Krolgar. And while we'll miss your company greatly, we cannot afford to wait here much longer. We were hoping to head out at first light tomorrow." "We will miss you as well, Mage, lady warriors, you have been fine companions to us on our long journey. I hope the rest of your way will be far more peaceful than ours has been." "I hope you have an easier journey home, Krolgar," Scully responded with formal politeness. "Thank you dear lady," he replied, gazing at her fondly. For a human female, she was surprisingly both attractive and sensible. Of the three humans, he would definitely miss her the most. He smiled broadly at her. "And again, my gratitude for all you have done to help heal my people. It is much appreciated." "I wish there had been more I could do," she said sadly, thinking of the bright, good-humored troll healer who had died painfully in her arms. If only she had had access to better medical facilities. "You did all that could be done," Krolgar told her. "Do not sorrow over what you cannot change. Gyruth's soul is now a part of the universe, at one with the gods." Scully simply nodded, holding tight to Mulder's hand under the table. He was a comforting presence, unwavering love and support flowing down through the lifebond. She gave him a smile, then turned her attention back to Krolgar who had moved on to more practical manners. "You will need to resupply yourselves here, and you might want to seek out some guidance as to the best route to take. Since you will be a small party on horseback, you might be able to shorten the journey by using less-traveled roads." "That sounds like a good idea. Any assistance you can give us in choosing a route will be appreciated," Mulder replied. "I can help you!" Jhorgab cried out, his eyebrows twitching with enthusiasm. "Why, I've studied the roads and ways of the Realm in great detail. It was always my favorite subject. I can show you the best way to Goodearth caverns from here, and I can help you trade for the right supplies. I know I am young, but I could be of much assistance to you in your journey, Mage Mulder..." He was so excited that he was unable to continue speaking, bouncing up and down on his short stubby legs. "Jhorgab..." Krolgar began to admonish him, but Shannon jumped in to support her friend. "I think that's a wonderful idea!" She turned to Mulder and Scully. "Oh please, let Jhorg come with us! He'd be lots of help, and he does know the paths very well. He's told me lots of stuff about the southern parts of the Realm already. I'm sure he wouldn't be any trouble, and it would help us to have a guide." Scully sighed and turned to the still bobbing young troll. "I thought this was your first journey away from home." Never at a loss for words long, Jhorgab responded excitedly, "Yes, that is very true. But I have memorized all of the maps, and I have listened many times to stories from those of my family who have traveled far and wide. My brother has told me often of his first visit to Goodearth, and I can remember every word of it. I can tell you..." "Ahh, I'm sure you could," Mulder interrupted quickly. He glanced at Krolgar. "What do you think of this Krolgar? We may run into more danger along the way, and I would understand if you didn't want to risk your nephew's safety." Krolgar frowned mightily, his eyebrows forming one long bush across his brow. He looked narrowly at Jhorgab. "I realize, youngling, that you have long wished to travel, but Mage Mulder's concerns are worthy of consideration. The dangers we have met so far are not the only ones that these travelers may yet face. And you will not have my wisdom and experience to guide you." "I know, uncle," Jhorgab replied solemnly, though with a twinkle in his yellow eyes. "But I am sure that Mage Mulder and these two fine warriors can shield me from any danger. And I am not a nestling anymore. I am as grown as you were when you went of your first great journey. I will not embarrass our clan, uncle." He drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height, "I promise you I will do the name of our family proud." Krolgar looked steadily at him for a moment, then turned back to Mulder. "I do not have an objection if you wish Jhorgab to accompany you." Shannon threw Mulder a pleading look, and he couldn't help smiling. He turned to gaze sternly at Jhorgab. "I can't see any reason to object, but... Jhorgab, you must realize that we will be traveling as quickly as possibly, and conditions may not be as comfortable as you are used to with the caravan." "I understand..." Jhorgab replied, secretly exchanging triumphant glances with Shannon. None of the adults missed the exchange, but all kept silent. Scully sent her amusement privately to Mulder, along with her concerns. //Do you really think this is a good idea? We have a tendency to attract trouble, and while I'm sure that Shannon can handle herself, Jhorgab is awfully young and inexperienced.\\ //I think he might surprise you,\\ Mulder replied, adding in the images of the troll youngling assisting Shannon in fighting the giant panther. //And he does know his geography and his history well. Since we're strangers here, it certainly couldn't hurt to have a native along.\\ //That's true,\\ Scully admitted. She smiled, even as her mind-voice softened. //He will be good company...if we can ever get him to shut up!\\ Mulder's laughter echoed in her mind, even as she realized that true to his character, Jhorgab was already expositing at length. "All right, Jhorgab," she interrupted, her voice rich with amusement. "You can come with us. We'll have to see about additional supplies. You do have a horse of your own?" "Oh, yes! Greega is mine!" Jhorgab answered brightly, grinning broadly. "We have trained together since almost before I was old enough to walk." "Which explains why you walk so funny," Shannon teased. Jhorgab scowled at her. "Look who's talking, tree-leg!" "Tree-stump!" she retorted. "Weed-leg!" Jhorgab countered. Mulder groaned. End of Chapter Twelve THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Thirteen It was several candlemarks into their journey when Scully finally permitted herself the luxury of relaxing a little. Considering the disasters that had plagued their trip thus far, it wasn't surprising that she was nervous. Since they had set out from Dreegan, however, things had been going smoothly. She and Mulder rode side by side, enjoying the changing countryside and the warmer temperatures, while Shannon and Jhorgab kept up a steady chatter behind them. After a quick break for rest and food, they remounted and followed the trail as it began to climb over increasingly hilly terrain. The southernmost slopes of the Uriin Mountain range loomed ahead of them, the peaks still capped with snow. If all continued to go well, they would be in Goodearth Caverns by nightfall. - - - - - The Dark Queen replaced the sphere in its stand and turned her attention to the paunchy little man who strutted into her workroom. "Sit down, you revolting toad," she snarled. Stricken, Drellor squatted in the nearest seat. "But, my lady!" he protested. "What's wrong? I thought our partnership was getting along swimmingly!" "You have given me nothing useful, worm. Nothing useful at all. Why should I continue a 'partnership' with a partner who brings nothing to the table? The Mage and his entourage continue their journey." Her eyes sparked their usual fire, but her aura, if he could have seen it, today glowed dully. "Why not just call down a lightning bolt or something?" "You stupid, self-important little insect!" She clamped her lips shut before she could say more. She had no wish for him to know that her powers were not limitless. Sowing the seeds of hatred and bloodlust all across the Realm had temporarily sapped her energy. Although she had derived some comfort and refreshment from the resulting carnage, it would take several candlemarks before she was sufficiently rejuvenated to resume making Mage Mulder's journey a nightmare. Did this idiot think it was easy, turning thousands of placid, sheep-like beings into raving lunatics? But the less he knew of her limitations for now, the better. Later, it would not matter. "I have my reasons, rodent. Now, when are you going to tell me something useful? I'm growing impatient with your stalling." She smiled cruelly. "Believe this - you do not want to make me angry." "N-no, my lady. It is not my intention to make you angry. C-certainly not," Drellor stammered. "If you could perhaps tell me the kind of information you're looking for...?" She relaxed back in her chair, becoming almost languid. "The spells this Mage casts - tell me about them." Drellor's knowledge was painfully scant on the subject. He had avoided contact with Reinald whenever possible, and Mulder had usually been with the Royal Mage. But he knew he could put off his captor no longer. Therefore he fell back on the one skill he felt he had - lying. "Oh, my lady! Great powers he has! Not as great as yours, but great nonetheless." "Details, little man. I want details." "Yes. Well. He could turn swords into snakes with a blink of an eye. And he masters the elements - positively masters them. And I know he can construct Gates. He did so with Reinald many times. And...and he can enchant crowds of beings with just the sound of his voice, to do his will. And turn things into other things." She rolled her eyes and impatiently sighed, her lips set in a thin line. "Hold, my lady," he said desperately. "Let me tell you of the time Mage Mulder turned the prince from a stone statue to his living self...." "Too late, you have told me of that already. So, he can construct Gates. I'm not surprised." She leaned forward, so close to him now that he could see the flecks of blood-red in the black of her irises. Involuntarily, he recoiled. "What do you know of Mage Mulder and the Lost Powers?" Drellor looked puzzled. "Lost Powers, my lady? Lost Powers, did you say? I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage." "And you would be wise not to forget that. Never mind, you may go." Drellor scurried out of the room and started down the marble steps. A thought crossed her mind, closely followed by a yelp and the sound of a soft, fleshy body bouncing down cold, hard stairs and slamming into stone walls. She listened to his cries until he finally landed at the bottom of the long, winding staircase. She chuckled, her humor restored for the moment. The little swine was outliving his usefulness. But yet - his blood! His blood would serve her purposes in the end. The rodent had spoken the truth, though, when he said he knew nothing of Mulder's connection with the Lost Powers, of that she was sure. Yet just as certainly, she had seen the young Mage use one of them. It was a puzzle. If he had unlocked the secrets to these powers, why had he not used them on his journey when she had presented him with...impediments? Was it possible that he was unaware of these powers? Or that he could not direct them at will? She smiled. If so, her task would be easier than she could have hoped. - - - - - The last shafts of sunlight beamed between the mountain peaks as the horses carefully picked their way up the winding, rocky trail. They rode single file now, the width of the path permitting nothing more. //Scully, we're not alone.\\ She sat up straighter in the saddle and peered around. //I don't see anything.\\ //Off to your left, behind the rock that looks like Skinner's head.\\ Nonchalantly, she stared ahead, but her peripheral vision picked up the slight movement of what looked like two pairs of pointed ears, almost indistinguishable from the gray of the rock. //Trouble?\\ Mulder, riding ahead of her, shook his head. //I don't think so. I think they're kids.\\ A sudden burst of giggling sounded, and two tiny gargoyles tumbled into view. "Hello," Mulder called out in New Realm. "Can you tell me if we're near Goodearth Caverns?" The two children looked at each other, poking and prodding one another to speak. Finally, the smaller of the two piped up. "I can. Are you Mage Mulder?" //Your reputation precedes you, Mulder.\\ His bondmate smiled sunnily at him. He shot her a look, and turned once again to the youngsters. He nodded. "Do you know Tarnor? We're here to visit his family." "Um-hm. Tarnor's my taabsut. I'll show you how to get to town if I can ride on your horse." He grinned up at Mulder, displaying his spiky teeth. "Me too! I want a ride too!" His companion finally broke his long silence. "I think that can be arranged." Mulder reached down and helped the little one to scramble up onto the horse, and settled him between himself and the saddlehorn. "What's your name?" "Feki. Really Fekor, but my nickname is Feki. And that's my cousin Lorka." He indicated his companion, who was being pulled up to join Scully on her mount. "That way's faster." He pointed a dark gray finger at an offshoot of the main path. "Think we can get through there?" Mulder asked doubtfully. "Yeah, easy." Mulder kept up a running conversation with the youngster as they picked their way through the rocks, although he was having a hard time with the child's unusual accent. It turned out that Tarnor was his uncle, his father's oldest brother. Although the child hadn't even been born when Tarnor left Goodearth Caverns, the gargoyle Mage had made an indelible impression on Feki during his infrequent visits home. Apparently, in the gargoyle culture, extended families lived together in clusters of caves, so families were uncommonly close. Feki badly missed his uncle, and devoured all the news that Mulder had of him eagerly. They had ridden several minutes more when the path opened up and they came to a small plateau surrounded snugly by mountains. At last, the town of Goodearth Caverns lay before them. Where most of the structures they had seen in this world were made of either wood or baked mud bricks, these buildings were of rough stones, mortared together with a kind of cement. Cobblestones paved the center of town, and paths radiated like spokes of a wheel from the center toward the mountain slopes. By each was a colorful painted sign, presumably indicating the families who dwelled along the path. As they rode through town, doors flew open and gargoyles rushed to greet them with such enthusiasm and in such numbers that Scully, fearing an impending riot, instinctively felt for the reassuring presence of the sword at her side. "We found them!" cried Feki. The travelers slid off their horses to greet the gargoyle who pushed her way through the crowd. She wore a heavy necklace of large, bizarrely shaped metal beads, but rather than decorative, it seemed to connote some official meaning. "I am Mikora, elder of Goodearth Caverns. Please join me for tea." The four travelers followed Mikora into one of the squat stone buildings as their two little guides raced up a nearby path to alert the family that their visitors had finally arrived. "I would offer you food," the elder continued, "but I know that Afla has spent the entire day cooking and she would have my head if I spoiled your appetites. Please have a seat." Mulder sank gratefully onto the stone bench the elder indicated. His neck was beginning to hurt from having to bend it at an awkward angle to avoid hitting his head on the low beams. He had never felt so tall in his life. Only Scully and Jhorgab could stand at their full height in the small dwelling. He accepted a stoneware mug of remarkable craftsmanship and sipped down some scalding tea. Scully began to speak for the group. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mikora. This is the first time we've had much contact with your culture. I hope you will forgive us if we inadvertently do or say something you might find offensive. I assure you, it would be from ignorance and no desire to insult." The elder waved dismissively. "Our etiquette is not so inflexible in this part of the Realm. And I'm not surprised you haven't become intimately acquainted with our ways. We tend to keep to ourselves and mix less than the other beings. Only the very ambitious, very gifted, or very undesirable tend to break away from their clans and seek their fortunes in more diverse settings. We have nothing against other creatures, we just get our comfort from the familiar. I think you'll find our culture unique, but in no way forbidding." "Tarnor is certainly doing well at Fairwoods Castle," offered Mulder. "He's become the assistant to the Royal Mage. He saved our lives at least once, as well as that of the Royal Mage and indirectly, King Andalor. He's an extraordinary being." The elder grinned, showing her pointed teeth, and her ears twitched agreeably. "Tarnor is very special to us here. He was the first in our village to be gifted with the powers of a Mage. We gargoyles have our talents, but magic is very rarely one of them. If you're finished with your tea, I would like to take you on a short tour of our village, then walk you up to Afla's cave." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. They were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to settle for the night. But the little elder was obviously bursting with pride, and they didn't have the heart to offend her. "We'd love to," said Scully with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Afla showed them through the little town. Here, the economy seemed more advanced, less agrarian-based than the rest of the Realm. The largest building belonged to the mining company. The surrounding mountains were a rich source of metals and gemstones, and most gargoyles made their living in mining or processing these resources. There was also a cottage industry in pottery, the tableware from the region prized throughout the Realm. "Females head up most of the industry in town, and of course the town government. We gargoyles tend to be rather matriarchal, probably because our males have to spend so much time in the mines and are rarely around," she explained. Finally, she led them up a path marked by a sign that bore a picture of a red and yellow wheelbarrow. "This is Tarnor's family sign. It is one of the oldest in our village." And one of the most respected, unless Mulder missed his guess. Out of the deepening dusk, a matronly gargoyle approached them, her face wreathed in a fearsome smile. "Ah, Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully! I'd have known you anywhere, from what my Tarnor has told me!" She bustled over to Shannon and took her hand. "And this must be your halla - how lovely. How tall you are, my dear! Come right this way, I know you must be hungry and tired." They waved farewell to Mikora. Tarnor's mother kept up a steady stream of chatter that rivaled even Jhorgab as they followed her up the steep trail. "That's right, just through here, and around this bend - see, just follow the signs." - - - - - Jourdain wiped the sweat and spattered blood from his brow. How long could this carnage go on? He and his men had arrived in time to stop the worst of it, but as they now labored to identify the dead and tend to the wounded, he knew it had not been enough. Fifteen bodies lay stretched out in Waterrush's village square - six elves, four humans, and five trolls. Stories varied about what had really started the bloodletting, all the beings pointing the finger at another. But one thing was clear - what had started as a minor trading dispute had ended up as a deadly free-for-all. He gestured to Bashar, who left his grisly chore and came to his side. "Find the elders - those that still live - and bring them to me." He helped to shroud the dead while his lieutenant followed his orders. Three humans, all bleeding from superficial gashes, were led before him. Three of their fellow elders lay among the dead. Jourdain motioned them toward the elders' meeting hut, where they sat slumped at a round wooden table. "All right. Now what happened?" The tallest replied with a sneer, "Ask the elves, they started it." Impatiently, Jourdain demanded, "Started what? What, by the Dark Creatures, could have happened to cause such bloodshed? Have you all taken leave of your senses?" In a whiny voice, the fat man dripping blood from a cut lip said, "The elves were cheating, trying to pass off old vegetables as fresh." Jourdain could only stare at them. "You are telling me that fifteen beings lie slaughtered out there in your village square because the vegetables the elves were selling weren't fresh?" he asked in a deadly cold, deadly quiet voice. "Well, it's just so typical of them, isn't it?" fussed the third elder. "And then the trolls became angry over something - I know not what - and before we knew it, a battle had broken out." "A battle you were quick to become involved in, no doubt. Any excuse for a fight, eh?" Jourdain paused in an attempt to control his fury. Then he growled, "King Andalor has granted me unlimited power to put down this senseless fighting any way I see fit. I'm sick to death of seeing my men hurt to keep stupid rabble like yourselves from killing each other. Maybe the only way to put a stop to it is to have all the adult male beings of this cursed place put to the sword." Bashar whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at his captain. The three turned pale. "But it was the elves-" "But it was the trolls-" "I don't particularly care," declared Jourdain, arms flung wide. "You want to see blood spilled, fine. Let it be yours. Bashar! Round up all the adult male beings and bring them to the square." "Y-yes, sir." The startled lieutenant fled out of the hut. "B-but you can't!" stammered the fat elder. "Oh, really? Just watch me," the grizzled soldier said with a fierce grin. "At least, until your turn comes." "L-let's try to be sensible here," the tall elder said. "There's no need for this." "You missed your chance to be sensible." Jourdain drew his sword and gestured with the tip. "Out - join your murderous neighbors." The three stumbled out of the hut to stand shaking with the other males of the village, some hundred in all. Wives and children looked on in horrified silence or open sobs. He raised his sword in the air. "As you have pronounced the sentence of death on your fellow beings, so I pronounce the same sentence on you - " "WAIT! What will this prove, what will it accomplish?" argued the tall elder. "It will prevent my men and myself from ever having to come back to this place. From having to risk our lives because you beings cannot get along. From having to put up with your hatred and your stupidity. And maybe as an example to other villages like yours. Not one, but four good reasons to carry out the sentence of death on you beings." "Please, have mercy!" called out the fat elder. Jourdain smiled grimly. "Mercy like you showed the poor devils lying over there?" The third elder, trembling and close to tears, begged. "Please, we don't know what came over us. We have never behaved like this before, and if given our lives, never will again. On our oath to the Goddess." There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd. The captain looked thoughtful for several moments while the village held its collective breath. "No. I cannot repeal the sentence of death I have given you." When the outburst of cries of protest and pleas for forgiveness crested then finally fell silent, he continued. "I will, however, stay the carrying out of that sentence. You will all consider yourselves under a death sentence. That sentence will be carried out swiftly and without mercy should I hear of a single incident in this village in which one being raises his hand in anger against another being." There were now shouts, praising Jourdain, praising the Goddess, for their deliverance. "I meant what I said," Jourdain continued grimly. "A single incident will be enough to condemn you all. A squad of my troops will stay in Waterrush to keep me posted. You are advised to treat them cordially." The elders bowed low, thanking the captain for the lives of the villagers, and then dispersed to join their families and make the arrangements for the dead. "Ah, Jourdain, you indeed had me worried," Bashar confided. "I must learn not to play at cards with you, for you dissemble too well. You looked like you meant every word of it, that you really did mean to have them all executed immediately." Jourdain looked at his lieutenant, oddly shaken, like a man emerging from some hideous nightmare. "Until a few moments ago, I did." - - - - - They were all panting by the time they arrived at the cave mouth. Torches burned brightly outside, illuminating the painting of the wheelbarrow above the entrance. Wonderful aromas emerged from the opening, amidst the cacophony of many voices. The path into the cave descended sharply, the roof low enough in places to force Mulder to bend almost double in order to get through. Along the wall, recesses had been scooped out which held a phosphorescent substance that bathed the tunnel in an eerie orange glow, providing just barely enough light to see. "Now that opening there is where Trablok, Tarnor's cousin's family lives. And that one to the right is another cousin. His father's brothers are there, there, and that opening furthest to the left. And my sister's husband's family...." Between the close atmosphere in the cave and the complex relationships of Tarnor's family, Scully felt like her head was spinning. It was with relief that she heard Afla's voice finally say, "And here we are!" They entered a large room hewn from solid rock, filled with over fifty gargoyles. On every surface, on every stone ledge and bench, gargoyles were clustered together, giggling and whispering, and clearly fascinated with the new arrivals. "I hope you don't mind - some of the family wanted to join you for dinner," Afla explained, anxiously. Shannon's eyes were huge. "This is all family? Is there anyone in town you aren't related to?" the bewildered girl blurted out. Mulder cast a warning glance her way and shook his head imperceptibly. Obviously the concept of family was held sacred by the gargoyle culture. The meaning of the look was not lost on the girl. "I-I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. But I've never seen such a big family before." "Oh, that's all right, dearie. Yes, we do have big families. And this isn't all of it - we had to turn away everyone who wasn't at least a first cousin. How many brothers and sisters do you have?" "None. It was just me and my mom." It was Afla's turn to look startled, and rapidly she translated Shannon's words for the younger gargoyles who did not seem to understand her words. There was an intake of breath and a low hum of discussion throughout the room, heads shaking in pity. Gargoyles were having the same difficulty with Shannon's idea of family as she was having with theirs. "Well, no mind, dear. Before we eat, let me show you around and find you someplace to put your things." She led them through a tunnel off the main room to a veritable labyrinth of passageways and chambers, all lit by the same phosphorescent matter they had seen in the entrance tunnel. At the dull thud and Mulder's sudden cry of pain, she said, "Oops, watch your head there, Mage. Our ceilings are a bit on the low side. Ah, perhaps the light is not enough for you! There's not much we can do about that, I'm afraid. You see, hundreds of generations of living and working in caves has given us incredibly keen eyesight in the dark, but we are somewhat sensitive to bright light. Just stay close and I'll try to remember to tell you when to duck." She showed them chambers that were set up almost like dormitories, with straw pallets that evidently took the place of beds, laid out ten or more to a room. The walls were adorned with murals and what appeared to be graffiti. Mulder asked her what the symbols were. "Oh, that's the old gargoyle tongue, which is what most of us speak around here. The older ones know New Realm, because we teach it in the schools, but we use Garsintil most of the time." Mulder went close to the wall, touching the symbols, spending some time examining them. A little nagging sensation flickered in his mind. //What is it? Head bothering you from where you banged it?\\ He felt her mind in his, concerned. "No. My head's all right. It's these symbols, they look a little familiar, although I don't know why they should be. Never mind." If Afla thought his answering a question that had not be asked was unusual, she gave no sign. "If you are interested in our writing, perhaps you would like to see our library, adjacent to our school. Just down here." She led the way through a maze of connecting tunnels to a large room, lined floor to ceiling with shelves carved out of the rock walls. Concentric circles of stone benches filled the center of the room. "This is our school," she announced proudly. "This is the first time we've heard of organized education in the Realm," commented Mulder. "I'd assumed that all youngsters were taught what they needed to know by their parents." "Well, among the trolls, elves, and most human communities, you'd be correct. But gargoyles prize learning above all things," explained Afla. "We are pre-eminent among seers, scholars and philosophers in the Realm. In any case, you are not far off, because the parents do the teaching. Each of us has become a specialist of sorts, studying an area of particular interest until we are expert in the field, and then communicating that knowledge to the young - and often the older ones, as well. Schools are for everyone, not just the children. Some of us specialize in language - I handle linguistics, being fluent in both New and Old Realm - some in numbers, some in literature or other arts, and others in lifelearning." At her guests' questioning expressions, she said, "What they need to know to live - matters of work, of play, of homemaking and health." "Sounds like your educational system makes a lot more sense than ours," said Scully dryly. "Undoubtedly works a lot better, too." Afla smiled proudly, then pointed to an opening. "The library is just through there." Mulder wandered into the adjoining room, which was filled with books and scrolls in every Realm language, most beautifully illustrated. The room was spotlessly clean, and straw cushions were everywhere, inviting the reader to browse through the volumes in comfort. Scully noted what appeared to be a small shrine in one corner of the large chamber. A tiny statue was set on a rock ledge, surrounded by fresh flowers and small fruits. "I'm sorry, but may I ask - what is the significance of the statue?" Scully inquired. "Ah, yes. That is one of the old gods, Hortha. A sort of patron, if you will, of learning and scholarship. Also our family's patron." "Is it permitted...?" "Certainly. Just try not to touch the image." Scully examined the shrine more closely, then turned to her hostess. "Then you don't worship the Goddess?" "Some do. Most don't adhere to any particular theology. And others still hold true to the old gods, like we do. Now, let's find your rooms so you can relax before dinner." She led them back through the maze, the travelers completely lost by this time. They were shown to two small chambers decorated with murals and Garsintil symbols. It was clear that some of the family had been moved out to make room for the guests. In each room, several straw pallets had been moved together to create the larger beds the human travelers would require. "I hope we haven't put you out too much, Afla," said Scully doubtfully. "No, the younger ones were glad of an excuse to stay overnight with their cousins. Besides, it's an honor to have you. Now let me show you the washroom." She showed them to a small aperture, which shone with a steamy blue light. Mulder got down on his hands and knees and crawled through. "Hey Scully, get in here! Look at this!" She and Shannon both followed him. Once in, they stood and looked around in wonderment. The walls of the small, keyhole- shaped chamber were of crystal and gave off a dim azure glow. In the center of the chamber, a deep pool of water steamed, creating a sauna-like atmosphere. To the right of the opening, oaken buckets and stoneware bowls sat filled with more water, and soft towels were stacked on a wooden bench. Afla and finally Jhorgab scuttled through the opening, the little troll's lip curling in dismay at the heat, humidity, and possibly at the purpose of the room. Trolls did not take kindly to bathing. "Oh, wow!" exclaimed Shannon. "I'll be damned. Natural hot springs?" the Mage questioned. Afla nodded. "Our source of hot water, and heat in the winter. Use the water in the bowls - don't try to immerse yourselves or you'll be scalded. Refill the bowls and set them aside when you're finished. We'll have dinner as soon as you're ready." "And the...er, umm?" hesitated Jhorgab. She giggled. "Sorry - the necessarium is just around the corner, first opening on the left." With that, she bustled off to see about organizing dinner for sixty. First Shannon, then Jhorgab took their turns in the washroom and necessarium, then Mulder and Scully followed suit. They changed into dressier clothes, fearing that to do otherwise would be an insult to their hostess. Then they headed off in the general direction they thought was correct, and within an amazingly short time became completely lost. "It HAS to be this way, Scully," said Mulder, pointing at one of their several choices of tunnels. "Why does it HAVE to be that way? I think it's down there," she countered. "Um, Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully - I think, perhaps, if I'm not mistaken -" "Pipe down, Jhorgab. But Scully, we came from there." "Um, I really think that -" "Can it, Jhorgab! Mulder, you can't seriously believe that at this point I have any credence whatsoever in your sense of direction, which has historically been horrible." "HEY!" The little troll's loud voice echoing off the cave walls stopped their argument cold. "THAT'S the right direction," he said, pointing down an entirely different tunnel. "Believe me, where food is concerned, I'm rarely wrong." They looked at each other. Then Mulder shrugged. "Lead the way, Jhorgab." The troll bustled down the tunnel as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Sure enough, they emerged into a large chamber where rough wooden tables and benches had been set up and laid with beautiful stoneware bowls, pitchers and platters. "Sorry we're late. We got lost," Mulder explained. A swell of laughter started up, becoming an avalanche once Afla had translated his words for the Garsintil speakers through her own giggles. "They don't mean to be rude," smiled Afla. "It's just that they think you're very strange. You see, gargoyles don't get lost, not underground, anyway. Apparently we have a built-in compass which other beings lack." "Trolls don't do too badly either," Jhorgab asserted. "At least in finding dinner." They all laughed and some of the younger family members started passing around the serving bowls and plates. The main course seemed to be a kind of casserole. The travelers waited until everyone had been served, unsure of the customs. Afla spoke some words in Garsintil, and then gestured for everyone to start. "SHIT!" Alarmed, Scully stopped her spoon halfway to her mouth and swung her head to see Mulder, purple faced and gulping from his water mug. "I've heard of five alarm chili, but this has to rate at least fifty!" he exclaimed in a strangled voice. Again, the assemblage began to laugh, pointing at the tears running down his cheeks. "It's delicious, but it needs a warning label." Something was lost in the translation, but Afla laughed merrily. "I suppose I should have warned you - we like our food spicy. It gets easier the more you eat." Mulder cast a doubtful look her way, but tried another spoonful. It did go down easier. After the first few painful bites, they got used to the fiery spice of the food, and began to converse with their tablemates while they ate. Mulder spoke with Afla in Old Realm, the woman glad to have a chance to use the ancient tongue. When they had eaten their fill, the long trip began to catch up with them, Jhorgab nearly falling asleep into his empty bowl. One of the little ones showed them back to their rooms and they were asleep as soon as they hit their straw pallets. - - - - - Andalor slumped back in his chair. The Realm was falling apart. There had been reports of serious fighting in sixteen villages, some between different beings, some revivals of old feuds between clans of the same species of being. Squads had been sent out to try to stop the bloodshed. Not for the first time, the king wondered how Mulder and his party were progressing. Something had to happen soon, or the Realm would topple into anarchy with loss of life worse than they had experienced in the War with the Dark Creatures. As horrible as that had been, at least their enemies had faces. The worst part of this - whatever was causing neighbor to slay neighbor - was an unknown, its motives as shrouded in mystery as its face. He turned his attention once again to the two Heads of House. Fighting had broken out between Maalfees and Dordinal, and three lay dead - one from each house and one of Andalor's guards who had tried to intervene. All the two nobles had been able to do was blame each other, dredging up old disagreements and real or imagined wrongs. Both sat before him, purple with anger. Reinald and Mandor of Ranfaus completed the group. "Lord Horvay, it matters not what happened two hundred and thirty season-cycles ago. That time has passed. I want to know what started this brawl in which one of my most promising guards was killed," Andalor demanded. "Ask the Dordinal slime who jumped my nephew as he was minding his own business -" "Lies! That scum of a nephew of yours was goading - yes, goading - my men into a fight," declared Marvick, outraged. "Enough! Guards, take these two out and hold them while I seek the counsel of my advisors." The guards led the two nobles out, quivering with rage and trading insults. "And keep them quiet! If they say a word, escort them to the dungeon where, with any luck, I will forget their whereabouts and they may rot." The mouths of both nobles snapped shut as they now transferred their anger to the king. They left with the guards, quietly fuming. "What say you, Lord Mandor? I trust your judgment." Reinald looked on as Mandor gave the king his opinion of what started the violence, and the atmosphere in and between the noble houses. Even his own house, normally the most well-behaved, had seen an increase in tensions and violence. "Reinald?" "Your Majesty, while stupidity and arrogance are nothing new to either Maalfees or Dordinal, we also know that the underlying tensions are being played upon by another unknown party. Although the situation cries out for justice, for the murdered guard if for no one else, that justice must be tempered in light of that circumstance." "I agree, Your Majesty," Mandor said. "The violence and bloodthirst becomes more widespread every day. Even if you had the brawlers executed, I doubt it would serve any purpose other than to focus their bloodlust against you. And if you fall, then truly there is no hope for the Realm." Andalor got up from the table and began to pace. "But I can't ignore this - I would be perceived as weak. And what sort of an example would ignoring it send?" He stopped, tapping his lip with a forefinger. "What if - what if we disarm the houses? That way they could do less damage." "And wouldn't be able to defend themselves if they suffered an attack by someone from the general public with a knife. We can't disarm everyone," countered Mandor. "Yes, there's that. All right - what do you think of confinement to chambers for all involved - and anyone caught defying the order would be imprisoned indefinitely. I have to do something," he explained. Mandor and Reinald were silent as they pondered the king's suggestion. "It could work - as a temporary measure only," said Mandor decisively. "Although I confess, I cannot think what the next step should be." "Very well, it is so ordered. And Lord Mandor - you do realize that if any members of your house succumb to the same bloodlust, a like fate awaits them." "I had assumed that to be so, Your Majesty. Now, if I have your leave, I'll see to telling Marvick and Horvay." "By all means. Our thanks go with you, Lord Mandor." He bowed deeply and left. Reinald sat at the table troubled. "What is it, Reinald? Do you feel I have erred?" asked Andalor, coming to sit beside the old Mage. "Eh? No. No, Andalor, you handled it well. No, it is another decision you must make which troubles me." The king sighed. "My betrothal." Reinald nodded. "It can't be put off any longer. Perhaps if news of your betrothal spreads, it will serve as a diversion to break this cycle of bloodshed." Andalor laughed bitterly. "So my choice of wife is to be a well-timed diversion." "A diversion that may well save the lives of some of your people." "I know. I know, Reinald. But the choice for a lifetime - to be made like this? I feel like a condemned man. I have as little say in my future as any poor wretch in the dungeon." "I wish it could be otherwise. I know you're becoming very fond of Shannon." "You have NO idea how fond I am of Shannon, Reinald!" he said angrily. "No idea at all. And it doesn't matter anyway, does it?" The king turned his now furious gaze on his old guardian. "I'm sorry." Seeing the dejection in the sag of the man's shoulders, Andalor knew he deeply regretted the position they were in. He sighed. "All right, I assume you have a list of eligible candidates. Who are they?" Reinald sat forward. "Althea of Dalvies. It is a minor house, to be sure, but the choice would have the benefit of not siding with one of the major houses and alienating the others. Of course, she's a bit older than you...." "Seventeen season-cycles older, to be precise. Twice my age. And it is said that she is as interesting as fog. No, I can't do it. Who's next?" "Cornella of Krensward. Another minor house. It is said that she's pretty," he added hopefully. "Reinald, gimme a break!" The Mage winced as he always did when Andalor lapsed into the slang learned in Mulder's world. "Cornella might be pretty but she's as dumb as a tree-stump. And completely self-centered. I can't live with someone who can talk only about what she's wearing or the latest gossip. Absolutely not. Who's left?" "Lady Livirnea of Ranfaus. Coincidentally, she's here at Fairwoods Keep, visiting her father." Andalor snorted. "Some coincidence. Am I to be allowed to see her, to speak to her? In private?" "Of course. I was hoping you would. As far as the privacy goes, you know that cannot be. But I think I have a solution you will find palatable." "Very well. If you would, please ask the Lady Livirnea to join me in the West Receiving Chamber in one candlemark." "Andalor - thank you." He looked as if he was about to say more, but thought better of it and left to find Mandor. The king sat alone, thinking, for most of that candlemark. - - - - - Matron Darfa opened the door and held it aside for the young girl. Andalor turned from his perusal of the bookcase to look at them both, and quickly stifled a chuckle. Yes, an appropriate chaperone had been chosen. The plump troll was known for her strictness to the rules of protocol. Fortunately for the young couple, she was also deaf as a post. They would be able to speak freely. He had purposely set the meeting so that it would not afford enough time for special primping or coaching. He was sure enough of that had been done already. Hopefully, it would also not allow enough time for gossip to spread, although he felt that might be overly optimistic. Livirnea was small, about Aldara's size, but there was a great sense of presence about her. Her thick ash blonde hair was done in a simple braid which hung down her back. She had porcelain skin, delicate features, and interesting light gray eyes which promised intelligence. Andalor had some aura-reading capability, and hers was the color of her eyes - the scholar-scientist's pale gray. Her dress was simple, a plain white sheath belted in silver, with just a touch of silver embroidery on the bodice. She curtsied deeply. "Your Majesty." Although not quite thirteen season-cycles in age, her voice had a pleasant, unexpectedly adult timbre to it. Andalor smiled. "Do you know why you have been summoned here?" "Yes, Your Majesty." Her gaze, like her answer, was direct. "Then I think, under the circumstances, you can call me Andalor, don't you? Please, come sit by me." She walked across the room gracefully, but remained standing until the king had taken his seat. Darfa's sharp eyes never left the couple. "We met once, long ago. Do you remember?" "Yes, Your...Andalor. I believe it was at a Spring Planting ceremony, six season-cycles ago." "Much has happened in that space of time. What have you been doing since then?" Her face lit up and her voice became enthusiastic for the first time. "Studying. Mostly the elements, and how they can be changed. Machines, and how they can be improved. And many foolish things as well, like sewing and weaving and singing. Oh!" She blushed prettily. "Perhaps I should not have been so bold." "No, I want you to be honest. I want to get to know the person you are." "My mother says my bluntness will be my undoing." "I find it refreshing. And admirable." She smiled and relaxed a little. "No one takes me seriously. My father tries, but he feels I'll outgrow this. But I have always found the elements fascinating. To mix two substances together to create a third, entirely different substance - it's so exciting!" "I know someone you should meet," he replied, thinking of the Professor. "Perhaps he would even agree to further your studies. He is from a distant land of many wonders, and is what they call a scientist. But his interests are like yours - the elements and machines and new creations." "I would be most interested to meet him. Do you really think there is any chance he might agree to teach me? My tutor has little new he can instruct. I think my parents were hoping that my studies would end when his knowledge was exhausted." "I can just about guarantee it." They were silent for a while, then Andalor said, "So you know what all this is about." "Yes. They want us to become betrothed." Solemnly he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "And what do you think about that?" "It is an incredible honor, King Andalor." He smiled wryly. "Very nice. Now what do you really think about it?" "If I may speak plainly?" He nodded his permission. "I know every girl in the Realm would be envious to be in my position. I know what an honor it is, and I'm truly grateful and appreciative." She faltered. "But...?" "But I really don't know. It's not that I don't want to marry you. I just don't particularly want to think about marrying anyone right now. I don't want my whole life planned out for me by my parents. I want to study as much as I can, and see where that leads me." He looked at her seriously. "You know we may have little choice in this matter. Even more than you, I am a prisoner of the Realm. Always making choices for its good, doing my duty...." He sighed. She nodded. "I know. My father speaks well of you, and my parents are very excited about all this. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to hurt you. But it's my life!" "I feel precisely the same way." He paused, then slowly continued. "You know, a lot can happen between now and the time we would be married. It would be at least two season-cycles, maybe three. Once the announcement is made and the betrothal ceremony over, we would both be left alone most of that time - just waiting. No more pushing and prodding and nagging." Her gray eyes smiled. "You mean, let them announce the betrothal, and then carry on as before? I could continue my studies? Yes, I'd like that." "I really don't think they'll let us fail to become betrothed. They'll work on us until we give in. This might be the best thing we can do to get a little peace. And maybe something will happen to let us both do what we want to do in the end." She nodded. "It's a good plan, Andalor." He leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes. "You need to know that we might have to go through with it - actually be married, I mean. But Livirnea, I promise you, no matter what the personal cost to myself, I would try to make you happy, and see that you continue with your studies for so long as you may want. I wouldn't..." Andalor reddened slightly, "I wouldn't...force myself ...on you, or anything." From the back of the room, Darfa peered at them suspiciously. "I understand. Thank you, Andalor, you have been more generous than I could have hoped. This isn't fair and it isn't perfect, for either of us. But if nothing else, I'm sure that today I have gained a friend for life, a good friend who understands me. I hope you know you have the same in me." Her eyes were warm. He clasped her hand and bent to kiss it gently. "We'd better go tell everyone the good news." - - - - - She found him easily through their bond, feeling stronger as she did so. Crawling through the small opening, she entered the crystal washroom. He sat naked near the boiling pool, perspiration streaming down his body. //Hi.\\ The quick smile that never failed to light up his face. //Good morning. I woke up achy, so I decided to take a steambath to see if it would help. I think it has.\\ //I hope it was worth the 'separation sickness'.\\ //It was to start with, but it was becoming a little uncomfortable. But now you're here, so... Oh! Sorry, I didn't think - did I wake you up with a nasty case of whatever the hell this is?\\ She walked around the pool to sit next to him. //Yeah, but it's gone now. Why were you sore?\\ He turned a comically tragic face to her. //I think I miss our bed. I'm getting almost accustomed to all the riding, but that straw mattress last night didn't work very well at all - I kept rolling off onto the floor.\\ She chuckled, and moved behind him, her hands going to his neck and shoulders. //Why didn't you just wake me? I could have taken care of this.\\ //Didn't have the heart - you looked so peaceful. Mmm, that's good.\\ She reached in as a healer, deadening the irritated nerves, unknotting the remaining muscle kinks, then resumed massaging his neck and back muscles. "Hey, if you two are finished playing around in there, Afla has breakfast ready," Shannon's disembodied voice called through the opening. "Be there in a minute!" //Well, time to go chow down on some jalapeno oatmeal or something.\\ Scully laughed. "It could be worse, Mulder. At least they're cooking for us. You remember Tarnor's preference for raw meat." His nose wrinkled in distaste. "You have a point. Go see if the coast is clear to our room. I'm not exactly dressed for the public here." She rose quickly - too quickly considering the heat in the room, and lost her balance as a wave of dizziness washed over her. With a sharp cry, she fell toward the boiling, spring-fed pool. Suddenly, she was floating, suspended over the pool in a cloud of blue light. Mulder reached out to take her hand, and tugged her back over the rocky floor of the crystal chamber. The cloud gradually vanished as she felt her feet making contact with the ground. "Careful - you wouldn't want to scald that beautiful complexion." His eyes belied the joking tone of his words, showing his fear. "No, I wouldn't want to do that." Her lips brushed his and, hand-in-hand, they walked to the opening to get ready for breakfast. After a relatively bland meal of spiced fruit, bread with pepper jam, and cheese, Afla took them back out of the cave and down to the village. Dawn was just breaking and the mountains were shrouded in mist. Mikora had their horses and fresh supplies waiting. Hugs and thanks were exchanged, and the travelers set out once again on their quest. End of Chapter Thirteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Fourteen As they descended from the mountains the air got progressively more sultry, enough to be uncomfortable. Mulder had stripped off his heavy Mage-cloak candlemarks before. Scully, Shannon and Jhorgab were also down to their loose white shirts. Finally they caught a zephyr carrying the scent of ocean. "Mulder, can we picnic on the beach? Please?" called out Shannon from behind. "Picnic" did not translate in New Realm, and Jhorgab leaned across to poke at her. "This 'picnic' - does this mean food, by any chance? Because I'm going to fall out of my saddle if we don't stop to eat something soon. Is there food in the offing, Mage Mulder?" he called. "I'm seriously famished, I really am." Mulder surveyed the sun high in the sky. "I guess it is about that time. All right, a picnic on the beach it is. Assuming there is a beach, that is." Moments later the ocean was in sight, a beautiful deep blue punctuated by areas of emerald. Shannon and Jhorgab raced ahead and were off their mounts and cavorting by the shore by the time Mulder and Scully rode up. That the beach was more shale than sand did not seem to make a difference. It verged on a grassy area, where the adults unsaddled the horses and tethered them to graze at leisure. The younger members of the party were detailed to find driftwood for a fire while Mulder and Scully rooted through their supplies to find the makings for lunch. "The Realm could really use some fast food places," Shannon commented when she returned, arms full of driftwood. "This is going to take forever, and if I have to listen to Jhorgab whine about being hungry for one more minute...." "Maybe I can do something about that," smiled the Mage. A little concentration, a few words, and the fire was roaring. "You're going to be in big demand at barbecues," Shannon said goodnaturedly. "But I'd still like a Big Mac and an order of -" "Big Mac? Who is Big Mac?" demanded Jhorgab. "Not who - what." By the time she was through explaining, the little troll was salivating all over his chin. "How soon will there be FOOD? Shannon, that was very unkind to tell me about Big Mac. I'm dying of hunger!" She laughed. "Well, you asked." "In the future," he said archly, "tell me AFTER I've eaten." "Coming right up, Jhorgab." Scully handed him a plate heaped with sizzling meat strips, a large wedge of cheese, some black bread, and fruit. "That should help." Realm etiquette notwithstanding, the hungry troll squatted where he stood and tucked into his lunch. She served Shannon, then carried her plate and Mulder's to where he was standing, in an area partially shaded by large rocks. They made themselves comfortable and ate. Then they laid back in each other's arms, propped up by a large boulder, sleepily drinking in the lulling swell of the ocean, listening to the waves crash and hiss upon the shore. Eventually Shannon and her constant companion found them. "Hey Mulder, we've finished - and washed our plates. Can we go beachcombing?" "Beachcomb? Is this more food?" Jhorgab inquired eagerly. "In your case," Mulder said dryly, "probably. Yeah, okay, but stay within sight, don't be gone long, and no swimming for an hour - you've just eaten." Shannon grimaced. "That's just an old wives' tale. But okay, the water's freezing anyway. Bye!" She began to race up the beach on her long coltish legs, the little troll hard-pressed not to lose sight of her as he hurried after. "Mulder, I'm going to fall asleep if I stay here," Scully murmured comfortably. "There's something wrong with that?" "Yeah, I have to move, work out some of the stiffness from riding." //Besides, I don't trust myself with you. There's something about the sea air and the way you look right now, in that very attractive open shirt....\\ //There's something wrong with that?\\ he repeated, eyes twinkling. "They won't be gone that long, unfortunately. Besides, I think Shannon's already convinced we're sex maniacs. Come on, Mulder, a walk will be good for you. Let's go look for shells." She stood and held out a hand, hauling him to his feet. "Okay," he grumbled. "I liked your first idea better, though." They followed the others' path, but slowly, inspecting the shoreline for the familiar and the unfamiliar. "Hey!" A voice called from the distance. "Come and see what we found!" They trotted up the beach toward where Shannon and Jhorgab stood, next to a huge dark shape. As they got closer, the shape coalesced into the carcass of some gigantic sea creature. Mulder strode around the animal's body, some forty paces. It had roughly the shape of a walrus or manatee, but was covered in iridescent scales that shone like precious gems. The head was huge, with a great gaping maw. Its lips were peeled back in death to reveal triple rows of needle-like teeth as long as a man's handspan. The dorsal fin, easily five meters long, stood up like spikes, with barbs at the end of each. "Don't touch it," warned Scully. "At worst it might be poisonous, at best, horribly unsanitary." Indeed, the stench of rot was almost overwhelming. "Do you know what it is, Jhorgab?" "Well, now that you ask, I cannot be certain, but it does bear an interesting resemblance to a creature I once heard described. I was in...let me see, was it Port Abrea, perhaps?...well, I forget now exactly where I was, but there were some fellow traders there and they were telling a story about some people they had recently done some business with, sailors they were. The sailors said - now, I think I have this right - the sailors said that they had found that something was entangled in their nets one night, but of course, since it was dark, they decided to wait until the morning to investigate, and -" "Jhorgab, what's it called?" "I was getting to that, Warrior-Healer Scully. Humans are so impatient." "And so are trolls, when it comes to food. Get on with it." "It's called a sea devil. An appropriate name, if I do say so myself. I saw only a tooth that the traders bought from one of the sailors, but it looked quite similar to those." He shuddered a bit. "It has been said that sea devils hunt in packs, and can overturn boats and consume whole crews. And you're right - the tips of the dorsal spines are deadly poisonous." "Now aren't you glad I told you not to go swimming?" Mulder kidded Shannon. "You would have made a tasty morsel." She wrinkled her nose at him, and started walking back down the beach to where their horses stood tethered. Jhorgab rushed to catch up. "Shannon, you must explain to me this fascination you seem to have with the whole idea of swimming. If the Goddess meant for us to immerse ourselves in water, she would have made us sea creatures and given us fins. I really do not see why..." Mercifully, his voice faded as the pair trudged across the rocky beach. The Mage and healer followed, arm in arm. "Now, see, Mulder, you had a nice walk and even got to see a sea monster. What more can you ask for?" "I could tell you, but we don't have the time to act on it, anyway." - - - - - They rode all afternoon, the climate increasingly tropical as they neared the Greenswan Delta. The ground became boggy in places, slowing the pace of the journey as they were forced to circumnavigate the swampy areas. The vegetation had changed from the grass of the plains to strange mosses and plants they had never encountered before. At one point, Scully jumped down off her horse to collect some fruit that looked and tasted a lot like cranberries, and several handfuls of a watercress-like green. "I saw this in one of Corvay's formularies - it tastes good and also has medicinal properties. Who knows - it might come in handy." When they came to the first estuary, Jhorgab guided them north along its banks. Later, the sun low in the sky, Mulder spotted the cleft rock and two tall evergreens that Tarnor told him marked the fording pace. The little band dismounted and looked at the Greenswan River in dismay. "Something's wrong. This can't be the right place," exclaimed Mulder. "Oh, no, Mage. I assure you, the maps were quite clear. This is surely the right place," replied Jhorgab. "But I am at a loss to explain the condition of the river. Many of my family and clan have made this crossing, and never have I heard it described as anything more than a gentle stream." The Greenswan had overflowed its banks and now swept by them, turbulent and muddy. He looked nervously at the magician. If he suspected that he had led him astray, guided him to the wrong place - well, everyone had heard tales of what happened when the wrath of a Mage was incurred. "I swear, Mage Mulder, never has this part of the river been known to behave like this." "That's okay, Jhorgab. Is there a place we can cross, further up?" "I'm afraid not. I know of only as far as the southernmost part of the Greenswan Forest, but there's no crossing place between here and there, of that I am most certain." Mulder nodded grimly. "It appears that we have a decision to make then. Thanks, Jhorgab." The little troll nodded and rejoined Shannon by the horses. //What do you think?\\ Her presence was cool, confident in his mind. //You heard him - this is the only place we can cross. I don't like it. The current's much faster than it should be down here. According to Tarnor, it should be little more than a quiet stream at this point.\\ //Do you think our mysterious friend is at work again?\\ //I wouldn't be a bit surprised. I can smell the stink of it - black magic - in the air. I think the only thing I can do is try to levitate each of us across in turn.\\ //Well, it beats trying to ride. Okay, send me first.\\ //Like hell you'll go first!\\ "Mulder, for once, THINK!" Looking around guiltily to Shannon and Jhorgab, she saw that her sudden outburst had startled them. Scully turned back to her bondmate. //So it's not a perfect solution, Mulder! Who do YOU suggest we send across first? Jhorgab? Shannon? We don't know what's on the other side. They wouldn't stand a chance if a wild animal came out of those woods and attacked them. And what if something happens to the spell? I know Jhorgab can't swim, and I don't know how strong a swimmer Shannon is.\\ Seeing the mulish expression on his face, feeling him shield his thoughts from her, but knowing what he was thinking anyway, she continued. //And you can just forget it! You can't go first. You need to stand by ready to bail me out if I get into trouble. If you go and something happens, I wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. Besides which, I don't think an animal leaping on you from behind would do much for your powers of concentration.\\ His eyes flashed and his hands were balled into fists. //What do you think separating is going to do to you? You know we can barely get a few feet apart without getting dizzy and nauseated. What's that going to do to you, alone on the opposite bank?\\ Her angry expression softened as she felt his fear for her radiating through the bond. //I'll be careful. Once I get across, you three follow. With a little luck, we'll only be separated for a few minutes.\\ She reached up and twined her arms around his neck. //I have to go first, Mulder. You know I do. Don't make it harder for both of us.\\ His lips claimed hers in a fierce kiss, then he reluctantly pulled away and nodded, a small, worried half-smile twisting his face. //I know. But I don't have to like it.\\ She squeezed his hand, and stood by the edge of the river. "Shannon and Jhorgab, get back and out of the way. Okay, Scully. But please - be careful." He stood on the bank and carefully grounded. Nothing would go wrong, he told himself. Nothing COULD go wrong. He closed his eyes and visualized the words to the simple spell, his lips moving as he read them in his mind. His aura flared, and Scully felt herself slowly rising, floating out over the turbulent river. Suddenly, the words before his eyes blurred, to be replaced by surrealistic, nightmarish flashes - images of putrescence and bloody death and tragic loss. His concentration wavered for only a split second, but it was enough. Scully plummeted into the boiling, seething river. "SCULLY!" Mulder mounted and tore off down the riverbank, desperately trying to keep the bobbing head in sight. Somehow he managed to get a little ahead of the helpless figure. He reined his horse in and was off the animal in the same movement. Taking a split second to concentrate and ground, he stretched out his arms. Blue light surged around him and sparks danced from his fingertips. Scully's body flew out of the water and floated toward him. Gently, he caught her and lowered her to the riverbank. She was coughing, retching up river water. "Dana, are you all right?" He bent down, holding her head, brushing back the dripping hair from her face. //God, Dana, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.\\ He held her and crooned the mantra over and over, rocking her in his arms. She felt his horror and guilt wash over her, unbearable, overwhelming. //It's okay. I'm all right.\\ She sent wave after wave of reassurance, until she finally felt him becoming calmer. He scanned her face anxiously. "I-I don't know what happened. I had you, there was no problem, when suddenly my head was filled with the most disgusting, loathsome images. I was startled, and I lost my focus for just an instant, and -" "Mulder, it's okay. It doesn't matter. It wasn't your fault." He was silent for several moments and then his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Actually, as uncharacteristic as it may be, I agree with you." He quickly sobered. "Those images didn't come from me - they were imposed upon me by someone else. It was horrible, Scully, like someone was raping my mind." "Black magic?" He nodded. "Someone's not happy with our plans to cross the river." He bent and lifted her in his arms, setting her on his horse, and walked them back to where Jhorgab and Shannon anxiously waited. Then he helped his bondmate down, catching her when her legs proved too shaky for support. //All right?\\ His look was concerned, but at her nod he reluctantly let her go. She was shaking with cold and shock, but as they were both aware, it could have been so much worse. "What are we going to do now?" asked Shannon. Scully squared her shoulders and spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. "I'll give it another try. Mulder knows what to expect now, and -" "We will NOT give it another try." Mulder's voice cut across Scully's. "That's not the natural smell of the river, Scully. The dark forces are still at work here, and the stink of them is everywhere." They sat dejectedly on the muddy ground. "But why, Mulder? Do you think someone is trying to prevent us from reaching Hannu?" He nodded. "Right now it's the best evidence we have that he exists - the fact that it is very important to someone that we never find him." "And to find him, we have to get across the river." "I know - and it's starting to get dark." He scanned the river, but saw no letup in the flow of the current. If anything, more of the bank had been eroded and the river's level had risen slightly. They thought furiously. Suddenly Scully's face lit up. "Mulder - the miniature Oracle crystals! Do you think you could contact Reinald, and somehow between the two of you, cook up something that will get us across in one piece?" His quick smile warmed her. "It's worth a shot. Shan- Oh, thanks." The girl set the small pouch of crystals in his hand. Mulder drew one of the crystals from the pouch. The others withdrew slightly to allow him to concentrate. Clouds swirled before his eyes, gradually forming the face of the old Mage. "Reinald - we're in a bit of a jam here." "I had assumed as much. Where are you?" "We're trying to cross the Greenswan River. We almost lost Scully on the first attempt. I think our mysterious Black Mage is at work here, and it's not the first time on this trip." The Royal Mage frowned. "I don't like the sound of that at all. All right, how wide is the river there?" "About, oh, fifty paces or so. And it's deep, some of the bank has been washed away. Do you have anything in your bag of tricks we could use? I tried levitating Scully across, and I was hit by a wave of the most horrible, vile..." "That's all right, my boy. I can well imagine. No, you'd better not try that again." He paused for a moment, thinking. "Theoretically, we could apply the same principles we use in constructing Gates to build a kind of bridge. It would certainly be the fastest way to get you all across." "Theoretically?" "Well, I don't know that it's ever been done before. But at least I would be here if you needed me." "Not a great time for an experiment, Reinald," Mulder said dryly, surveying the rampaging river. "But I don't see any other way. Tell me what to do." The two began to converse in Old Realm, seeking the right words, the right gestures, the right strength of power to construct the bridge. Finally they switched back to New Realm. "You'll be doing most of it yourself, Mulder. There's no choice. You're the one who's there, who has the better idea of what's necessary. I'll stand by and maintain the connection in case you need help." "Thanks, Reinald. Hold on." He turned to the others and quickly explained what he was going to do. "You're going to need to move fast and keep the animals under control. Scully, stay next to me. I can't afford to get dizzy or lose my concentration." "Is this as dangerous as building a Gate?" she asked, the concern growing in her eyes. "I don't think so. But it's going to be a little tricky, if only because it's never been done before." He smiled crookedly at her, trying vainly to coax a smile in return. He sobered and caressed her cheek, sending a quick flash of reassurance her way. "Okay, ready?" He looked around, noting that Shannon and Jhorgab had tied their tunics over the horses' faces to blind them to the sparks that would soon be flying. Nodding his approval, he snaked an arm around Scully's shoulder, gathering her as close to himself as possible. Then he readied himself. He frowned in concentration as his aura flared. Coils of blue-white light coursed down his arms to emerge as sparks, leaping and dancing from his fingertips. Thunder rolled in the heavens. Suddenly, a wide shaft of crackling light shot into the air in front of him, spectacular and brilliant against the night sky. Carefully, he bent it to his will, arching it gently over the river and sinking the end deep into the riverbank on the opposite side. "Okay, let's go!" yelled Scully over the noise. Shannon and Jhorgab led the nervous, plunging horses onto the bridge and began to cross, the bondmates following close behind. Scully could feel her hair standing on end, charged by the power surrounding them. They had reached the dead center of the bridge when she felt his concentration falter. The bridge under her feet grew less firm, almost muddy, as her feet began to sink beneath the blue-white light. //Mulder!\\ He struggled desperately to keep the spell under control. Shuddering with the effort, he forced his mind to ignore the bizarre and nightmarish images that were flooding into it. Suddenly, he felt Scully and Reinald in his mind, supporting him, supporting the spell, helping him to focus his energy. The bridge solidified once more and the travelers hurried over it to the safety of the eastern riverbank. Then the span disappeared as Mulder fell to his knees, exhausted and drained. Scully huddled over him protectively, feeling the trembling in his limbs. "I'm all right," he gasped. "I'm all right." She grabbed the crystal from his hand. "Reinald!" she growled, as the Mage coalesced into view. "What the hell happened?" "It was close, my dear. Very close. There was interference with the spell again. Someone was trying to break into it, to disrupt it. Mulder had to do some very fancy footwork to keep it together." "He's shaking like a leaf and can't even stand. What's it done to him?" "Are you all right?" "I've been better. But what about Mulder?" "He just needs rest, as do you. The effects will pass." Scully surveyed the dark forest. "Well, we have to make camp for the night at this point, anyway. But I want to get away from the river, just in case." "A wise plan, Warrior Healer. As you get closer to your goal, I think you can expect more problems. Take care." "We will, Reinald. Thank you for your help." The clouds swirled again and the Royal Mage was gone. She bent over Mulder. //Do you think you could ride for a little while? We need to find a place away from the river where we can camp for the night.\\ He nodded weakly and she helped him to his feet. Still clutching her, he took some deep breaths, then let go and swung up into his saddle. The others remounted and fell in behind. Then the weary travelers slowly moved along the path through the dark, silent woods in search of a place to rest for the night. - - - - - It had gone on for candlemarks. Thunder rumbled outside and a fierce wind tore at the vines covering the windows. Lightning illuminated the dark room in surrealistic flashes as her anger coiled with the elements themselves. Below, servants trembled and ran for the furthest reaches of the castle to huddle in terror. She yanked so hard on the bell pull that it tore from its attachment and came off in her hand. Screaming in frustration, she flung it into the hearth, where it caught with a sick, weak flame. Finally, exhausted, she sank down into the chair and massaged her temples. When the shaking servant presented himself, she whispered, "Bring him here now" in a tone that turned his blood to ice. "Y-yes, Your Majesty." He fled to do her bidding. She closed her eyes but her memory taunted her. What was his secret? Was the damnable Blue Mage indestructible? His way with a spell might have brought her admiration, were they not implacably aligned as enemies. Today she had thrown everything at him she could, at least from this distance, and all for naught. Throughout their journey, the travelers had been unaffected by her work, that which had brought so much satisfying carnage to so many places. She had even - almost - converted their friend, the soldier, to satisfying her need for blood and hatred. And then he had reneged at the last moment. But the travelers - the Blue Mage and his company - continued their quest, hardly slowed by the challenges she had presented them. Challenges that could not have failed to be successful in others. Should have been successful with them. She sprang from her chair in frustration. Why didn't it work? By now they should have been corpses, cast up bloated on the riverbank. Certainly the interference of that old busybody hadn't helped. She was beginning to see what Drellor disliked about Reinald. But still - what was she doing wrong? She needed to know more. Somewhere, the Blue Mage had a weakness, perhaps many. It was just a matter of finding out what they were. The little fool was going to provide that knowledge tonight, to his everlasting sorrow. Somewhere there had to be something useful in the tiny brain of that corpulent rodent. He crept into her workroom, trembling from head to toe, and opened his mouth to speak. "DON'T say anything. Nothing. Not a word." Mutely, he nodded. She added the powdery contents of a skin bag to a goblet of lizard's blood, and raising it to her lips, drained it. Running her tongue over bloodstained teeth and lips, she motioned for him to stand in the center of the room. Much as he wanted to avoid angering her further, Drellor could not get his limbs to obey him. He was too stunned by this sudden reversal in his fortunes. He had a bargain with her! Well, a bargain of sorts, and he had held up his end of it, telling her everything he knew about Mage Mulder. How did he deserve this kind of treatment? He bit off a strangled cry as a force seized him and shoved him into the middle of the chamber. She smiled, the coldest, most evil smile he had ever seen. "I told you that I needed information. If you had cooperated, we would be launching our plan right now. Instead, I'm no better off than before you came." Drellor's voice worked no better than his limbs. He opened his mouth, but only a garbled squawk emerged. "No matter. It is just possible that you are in possession of something helpful without being aware of it. We are about to find out." She closed her eyes, her lips moving to words only she knew, the potion coursing through her body, catalyzing the spell. Drellor's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor, insensible. For some time they were motionless, the dark lady and the fool. Then with a gasp, she opened her eyes and breathed deeply. Drellor lay twitching on the cold stone floor. Again she smiled. Her instincts had been correct. The worm did know more than he realized - something overheard that he had stupidly thought was unimportant. And now she just might have the key to the Blue Mage's destruction. - - - - - She was in his mind, gently awakening him. He sat up with a start, momentarily confused. //It's all right. We've stopped for the night. You've been asleep for a few hours now. I've made some soup if you're interested.\\ //Very interested. I'm starved.\\ She handed him a bowl brimming with a thick savory soup, and a chunk of black bread. She took her own serving and sat close beside him. "Mmm, this is great. Were you the cook tonight?" "Well, I had to stick close to you, so it sort of precluded my searching for firewood or checking out the area," she said dryly. "So that left cooking. How are you feeling now?" "Great. I just don't remember getting here. The last thing I remember is getting on my horse at the river." "Yeah, you were pretty much out of it by the time we found this place. You literally fell out of your saddle. We had to drag you off the path." He looked around. To their backs was a high wall of solid rock which curved in an arc around them. They faced out onto deep forest, the trail twenty paces to their right. "Well, I picked a very strategic spot to fall off my horse, anyway. Where are the kids?" She pointed a short distance to their left. "Sleeping. They were exhausted." "You look pretty exhausted yourself. And -" His brow knit in concern, as he touched her through their bond. "Something else. Fever?" "Yeah. A souvenir of my impromptu dip in the Greenswan." Now he noticed the unhealthy glitter in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. "Don't worry. I drank some tea made from those greens I picked today. It should help." "Have you eaten all you want?" Wrinkling her nose, she nodded. He took the nearly untouched soup from her and set it aside. "All right. Get some sleep." "Mulder - we have to keep watch, just in case." "I know. I won't need any more sleep for a while. I'll keep an eye on things. If I get tired, I'll wake Shannon or Jhorgab." She protested weakly, but in the end allowed him to spread his warm, thick Mage-cloak on the ground and she lay down on it gratefully. He lay beside her for a while, holding her in his arms until her soft even breathing told him she was asleep. He gently extricated himself and standing, put some more logs on the fire. Then he sat propped against the wall, the stone still warm from the sun, listening to the quiet night sounds of the forest and the snap of the campfire. Well, a little of this goes a long way, he thought. Where's a good video when you need one? He pulled over his saddlebags and extracted the scroll Reinald had given him. He hadn't had the time to work on deciphering it for several days. Its mysteries intrigued him, and if nothing else, it would help him to pass the time. Mulder had no more than scanned the first few lines of symbols when he gasped. Excited, he brought the scroll closer to the fire, to assure himself that he was not imagining things. Damn, I wish Afla were here, he thought. For now he realized what had looked so frustratingly familiar on the gargoyle walls. The symbols on the scroll were close - very close - to those he had seen in Afla's cave. They were a little more intricate on the scroll, but still for the most part recognizable. Now all I have to do is find someone fluent in the old gargoyle tongue, Mulder thought, and we should be able to - Without warning the fire flared, the flames doubling in size. Mulder shrank back, heart pounding. A sudden violent gust of wind tore the scroll from his hand and carried it to the heart of the inferno. With a loud popping sound, sparks shot from the fire, covering Scully in burning embers. Fighting the panic caused by the fire, Mulder dropped to his knees and frantically wrapped her in his cloak, smothering the dozen or so places where her clothing had started to smolder. She began to struggle beneath his hands. //Wh-what...?\\ "It's okay," he panted. "The fire just flared and some sparks got on you. Are you all right? Burned anyplace?" "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Taking one look at his pale visage, she knew that he had been shaken. "How did it happen?" "I don't know. I was reading the scroll- Oh God, the scroll!" He looked around and found a long stick. Desperately he poked and prodded in the fire, trying to find the ancient document. "I was trying to decipher Reinald's scroll," he explained as he searched. "Remember when I said that the gargoyle symbols reminded me of something? Virtually the same symbols appear on the scroll. But now it may...Yes!" He deftly jerked the stick, and the furled scroll slid onto the end. Carefully, he removed it from the fire. "Mulder, it didn't burn! How is that possible?" "Reinald did a little spell casting before we left. I'll have to congratulate him on its effectiveness. See Scully - this symbol here - and here? They are almost identical to symbols we saw on the walls of Afla's cave." She looked at the document doubtfully. "I'll have to take your word for that, Mulder. Not being blessed with a photographic memory, I really can't say that I recognize them. What do you think they mean?" "I don't know. We need to find someone who speaks the old gargoyle language. But Reinald was convinced that this scroll was very significant, possibly even containing the instructions for casting some spells that have been lost for eons - those Lost Powers we were talking about before we left." His face clouded. "In which case the fire may not have been an accident. The timing was just too perfect." Scully cast a glance over to the recumbent forms of Jhorgab and Shannon to make sure they were asleep. Then she turned to him, her brow furrowed with worry. "Mulder, someone knows a lot more about us and what we're doing than I'm comfortable with. Every step of the way, we've had problems. And now they're more and more specific to US. Washed out roads and animal or brigand attacks could happen to anyone. They could be explained as coincidence or just plain bad luck. But someone would have to know exactly who and what you are to cause the problems we've been having today. They would have to know about our mission and the reasons for it, and want to stop it, using any and all power at their disposal. And that just scares the hell out of me." He nodded slowly. "They have an advantage we don't have - they apparently know all about us and we know nothing about them." She shivered a little, and he gathered the Mage-cloak around her shoulders. "Go back to sleep. The sun will be up in a few candlemarks." He brushed his lips with hers, and she settled down once more. He sat by her side, staring out into the forest. She wasn't the only one who was worried. - - - - - Hunched against the trunk of a tree, Jhorgab dozed, his head nodding gently up and down in rhythm with his breathing. When he had no longer trusted himself to stay awake a candlemark before, Mulder had roused the little troll to take his turn at watch. Jhorgab had wakened readily enough, but a short time later had been powerless to stop his heavy eyelids from closing. Shannon slept soundly a few meters away. Whether because of the fever or the herbs she took to combat it, Scully's sleep was deeper than normal, a heavy dreamless slumber. Mulder turned, frowning in his usual disturbed, dream-tossed sleep that afforded little rest. "Fox!" His eyes opened. He shifted yet again. That was a dream he was familiar with, but no amount of familiarity could make it any less troubling, any less painful. He willed his eyes to close once more. "Fox!" His eyes popped open. This was no dream - he had HEARD that distant cry, not imagined it. He sat up, tense, expectant. "Fox! Help me, Fox!" Springing to his feet, he peered into the dark forest in the direction from which the sound had come. He couldn't see anything, but the voice had sounded close. "Fox! I need you!" Slowly, he pushed his way through the underbrush. Mist swirled at the floor of the forest and the twin moons cast eerie dappled light and shadow through the trees. He acted purely on an instinctive level, not considering for a moment the impossibility of Samantha's being here, in this strange world. He knew only that she was calling him, calling out as she had done over twenty years before. And maybe - just maybe - this time he would be able to save her. He had gone only a few paces when the first wave of dizziness hit him. Taking a deep breath, he pressed on through the trees, his pace becoming faster every time he heard the childish voice cry out for him. "Fox! Help me, please! They're hurting me!" He was now running, face and limbs scratched by a hundred branches, torn by a thousand thorns. The pain in his head and joints was almost unbearable, and vertigo caused him to lose his balance and fall repeatedly. Each time, he crawled back to his feet, a little weaker as the distance increased between him and his bondmate. He heard only the sound of his sister's voice, calling from deeper and deeper in the woods, calling for him. Animals, small rodents disturbed by his thrashing scurried for cover, and night birds ceased their song as he plunged past. Near now, larger animals growled and screamed. "Fox! Please help me, they're taking me!" Tears mixed with rivulets of sweat were running down his face. The whole horrible nightmare, unbearable the first time, was happening again. No, he couldn't let it, not again. He struggled to move his leaden feet forward toward the sound of the cries, and fell once more. Too dizzy to make it to his feet, he crawled through the underbrush, head pounding, stomach lurching. "Please, Fox! Please! Don't leave me alone with them! Why won't you help me?" Her voice was sobbing now, full of pain, confused and distraught by his abandonment. With a desperate growl, Mulder staggered to his feet. "I'm coming, Samantha! I'm coming!" He retched and spat, choking on bitter bile, and continued to weave through the forest for fifty more painful meters. Finally he fell and could no longer move. His lungs, his skin, were on fire and his muscles cramped agonizingly. His mind was worse, as the childish cries now turned to screams of terror, and like so many years before, all he could do was listen. "Oh, God. Samantha, I'm sorry!" he wept. His last conscious thought was that he had once again failed. - - - - - Scully awoke, muscles cramping and her head throbbing. At first she thought that her fever had become worse, that perhaps she had caught some disease from the river water. Then her mind felt a huge gap, and she suddenly turned over. Mulder was nowhere to be seen. She was on her feet in a second, and back on the ground a second later, head swimming, throat tight, fighting the nausea that seized her. Damn it, where is he? she thought. "Jhorgab! Jhorgab, wake up! Where's Mulder?" The troll sat up with a jerk, bleary-eyed. An expression of horror came over his fleshy green face. "I don't know. Oh, Goddess, I'm sorry. I fell asleep! Goddess! Scully, are you all right? Were you attacked? Did someone carry off the Mage? It's all my fault! I'm sorry, Warrior-Healer. I just couldn't help myself, and now..." Shannon, awakened by Jhorgab's wailing, sprang to her feet, sword in hand, and rushed to Scully's side. "What happened, Dana?" Stomach heaving, Scully struggled to her feet. The younger girl grabbed her arm, steadying her. "Mulder's gone...have to find him," she gasped. "All right. You stay here and Jhorgab and I will look for him." "No! Can't...have to get to him. He's in trouble." "So are you, by the looks of you. Jhorgab! Stop your whining and go get a horse, quick!" She held Scully upright until the little troll returned. Together, they boosted the sweating, agonized warrior up onto the back of the huge Realm steed. "Can you tell which way he went, Dana?" She raised her head, trying to feel him through their bond. Her sense of him was weak, very weak and it frightened her. "Yeah. That way, I think." Jhorgab led the horse through the underbrush. Shannon walked beside the animal where space permitted, casting anxious glances up at Scully. The preternatural silence of the woods was sliced through intermittently with the screams and snarls of wild creatures, each time bringing Shannon's hand to the scabbard of her sword. "We have to hurry," Scully urged. She clung to the horse's long, coarse mane, trying to ignore the pain, putting all her energy into reaching out to Mulder through their bond. //I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.\\ She was shaken by the lack of response. "Please, hurry. A little to the left, between those bushes." Jhorgab guided the horse between the thickets, his sharp eyes scanning the forest. Suddenly he dropped the reins and darted over to a thorn bush. He removed a scrap of white cloth. "He's been here, this is from his shirt, I am certain. Take heart, Warrior Healer, we shall find him." He quickened their pace. Shannon's head snapped around, startled by the snarl of another large animal nearby. Jhorgab shivered but did not slow. "That sounds uncomfortably like a woodscat. Be alert, Shannon, they hunt in packs." "Mulder's close," Scully called out suddenly. "Keep an eye out, Jhorgab!" She finally felt him clearly through the bond, almost semi-conscious but making a weak attempt to reach for her. //We're coming, love. We're coming.\\ The little troll led them through between two stands of trees. From a bush nearby, a large piece of bloodstained white fabric dangled on a finger-long thorn. "There!" Mulder was in a small clearing, motionless in a patch of moonlight. Scully slid off her horse and staggered to the side of her bondmate, touching him everywhere. His shirt hung in tatters, his skin was torn in a hundred places, he was pale and in shock - but he was alive. //Glad...you could make it,\\ he joked weakly, and put out a shaky hand to touch Scully's face. Not strong enough herself to reach in as a healer, she contented herself with catching his hand in hers and clasping it to her, feeling the pain in her body ebb with the closeness. A short distance away, Jhorgab commented, "It's fortunate you collapsed when you did, Mage Mulder. Shannon, take a look." She paced over to where the little troll stood, just beyond the area illuminated by the twin moons. "Shit!" she breathed. They stood at the edge of a chasm. A hundred meters below, the moonlight picked out jagged, fang-like rocks in sharp relief. She turned back to where the Mage still rested on the ground. "He's right, Dana. Another ten paces and Mulder would have been history." Jhorgab drew back from the edge and rejoined the group. "Now, if I may be so bold, I would like to suggest that we get out of here with all due speed. I have seen the yellow eyes of several woodscats nearby, and I believe it may be a good idea to-" "Help me get him on the horse," Scully urged. The troll and Shannon assisted Scully to awkwardly boost the tall, limp form of the Mage onto the broad back of the horse. Then she swung up behind him, encircling him with her arms. "Lead us out of here, Jhorgab!" They had taken no more than a few paces when the little troll stopped. Almost at the same moment, three large, dark, slinky forms emerged from the forest and immediately fanned out. With the precipice to their backs, all means of avoiding the creatures had been cut off. Shannon drew her sword and stepped in front of Jhorgab. Scully jumped down from the horse and reached for her own sword, realizing only now that in her haste to reach Mulder, she had left it on the ground back at the camp. She crouched to draw the knife from her boot as the first animal sprang. Shannon leapt in front of Scully and met the animal's charge. She caught it deftly in the midsection on the tip of her sword, the weight of the beast driving the blade in deeply. It went down with a scream, still writhing, trapping the girl beneath it She struggled out from under it, rolling to the side still grasping her sword. A huge clawed paw swiped at her, ripping through the skin of her leg. Furiously she slashed, her blade severing the arteries in the creature's neck. It gurgled for a moment, then was still. Maddened by the smell of blood, the other two beasts hurled themselves at the women, fangs bared. Jhorgab struggled to hold onto the frightened horse, as it reared back in a frantic attempt to distance itself from the attacking woodscats. "Jhorgab!" Mulder gasped, clinging to the mount's neck. Not a meter away from the dancing back hooves was the edge of the chasm. With all his strength, the troll pulled the panicked horse forward, away from the edge. His own danger temporarily averted, Mulder now looked on horror as the two women who meant the most to him fought a deadly battle with the remaining woodscats. Shannon had slashed at her attacker with her sword, and the wary beast now circled her just out of the reach of her blade, looking for any weakness, any mistake on the part of its prey. A few paces away, Scully grappled with the snarling creature that was twice her size, desperately trying to avoid the huge fangs as she sunk her knife over and over into the heavily muscled shoulders of the beast. The two were covered in the beast's blood as they rolled on the ground. Impatient for its kill, Shannon's beast suddenly sprang at the girl. Almost at the same moment, Scully's knife, slick with blood, slipped from her grasp. Sick with terror, Scully looked up into the evil eyes as the blue-black beast started for her throat. A blue glow suffused the clearing. Mulder sat high in the saddle, arms stretched out over his head, shockwaves of blue energy emanating from his hands. Jhorgab and the two women fighting for their lives were caught in the waves, feeling the electric tingle of the spell. More importantly, so did the two beasts they fought. Sensing the force, they recoiled from their prey, snarling and snapping in frustration as they reluctantly backed away. The waves spread further, forcing them back. Finally, they withdrew snarling into the forest. Jhorgab led the horse carrying the still-chanting Mage forward. Scully and Shannon picked themselves up and fell in behind, limping. The sky became rose tinted with the nearing dawn as Mulder continued to chant, holding the little party in the safety of the blue glow, as they moved slowly through the forest. Finally, in the comparative safety of their camp, his voice croaked to a stop, and he fell senseless from the saddle. End of Chapter Fourteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Fifteen She sat alone, quiet, her fury spent. The servants had long since retired in terror. They had spent the best part of the past two candlemarks fleeing the dark, dank corridors as they heard her approach, muttering in her magic tongue, kicking out at unfortunates who had not the sense to get out of her way. The black castle had trembled with her screams of rage. Finally, after venting her wrath on her weak, sniveling subjects, she had withdrawn to her workroom to think. Again, it should have worked, and again, she had failed. The fragments she had pulled from Drellor's terror-addled brain had been valuable. The plan had been foolproof. The Mage had indeed responded as she predicted to the sounds of his sister's cries for help. Where Drellor had picked up this useful tidbit, she couldn't discern, but it didn't matter. The Mage had believed, had followed the pitiful pleas for help from the safety of his camp into the dark forest. But he should have been following the sound as quickly as he could as she drew him ever more deeply into her trap. Running as fast as his legs could carry him through the woods, past the clearing, until his feet touched solid ground no more and he plummeted, to lie impaled on the dagger-like rocks below. Her eyes gleamed as she pictured him there, perhaps weakly calling out to this child Samantha with his dying breath, as his lifeblood dripped away to paint the stone beneath him. She closed her eyes and opened them again, the gleam gone. She had failed. And it was a mystery to her why. She knew he was strong, she had fought a battle for his mind when he had created the bridge, and she had lost. True, before that she had managed to startle him into dropping that annoying woman he traveled with into the river. But he would not allow that to happen again. He would be ready, as he had proven when casting the bridge spell. She had felt his force. The bridge spell was new - he had created it and not had the time to test it properly - and yet his control was superb, in spite of her best attempts at disruption. That sort of creativity was inauspicious in and of itself. Linked to the power she had seen, it was an unthinkable threat to her plans. But now - she didn't know what to think. Why did he collapse? Could it be that he was as weak in body as he was strong in Mage power? She cast her mind back to the images she had had of him, and licked her lips. No, he was well-formed - very well-formed, she thought salaciously - and apparently healthy, and young. No, he couldn't be a physical weakling. She toyed with the objects on the table in front of her - body parts of reptiles, amulets, bags of powders and herbs - as she pondered. What had caused this powerful, young, healthy Mage to collapse, mere paces from the fate she had designed for him? She shook her head and swept the tools of her trade from the table with a restless thrust of her arm. She couldn't get a clear sense of this Mage Mulder at all. If he were not so damnably PURE, she thought with disgust. He would be a consort worth having - powerful, tall, well-favored. She laughed softly, deep in her throat. A consort who would doubtless know all kinds of intriguing ways to pleasure a woman. The smile faded. She knew his kind, too much like the Other, and not likely to succumb to the tantalizing lure of the Black Arts. A waste, to be sure. Once again, she put her mind to the problem. She had to find out more. She knew some things about him to be sure, but not enough. Not enough to guarantee his demise. The Dark Queen got up and began to pace the damp, noisome tower chamber. So again, Mage Mulder had escaped. Worse, he continued his quest for the Other. The Blue Mage whom she had battled and had done no more than achieve a draw. The Other, whom, along with Mulder, she feared as she had feared no other adversary. Together they could conceivably put a stop to her plans for vengeance, if they went about it the right way. I must be more clever, she thought. More clever than Mulder, more clever than the Other, more clever than I have been up to now. I have to plan, and conserve my strength. This Mage Mulder will have to be exceptionally wise to find his way to the Other. She barked a short, humorless laugh. The Other had protected himself well, from friends as well as from enemies. Very well, let the protections the Blue Mage had constructed defeat them all. She would be the benefactor in the end. From deep in her soul, she felt the hunger stirring again, refusing to be put down any longer. Hunger that Mulder's bloody death should have fed. Sighing, she picked up the hematite sphere and closed her eyes. She felt the familiar thrum of her power as it reverberated onto her fingertips. Somewhere there was a village ready to ignite into a firestorm of bloodshed. And she would find it. - - - - - "Are they done yet?" the eager voice asked, for at least the tenth time. "Not yet," Shannon replied automatically. She rotated the makeshift spit once again. The ducks - or whatever the Realm equivalent - were browning nicely, the fat hissing as it hit the fire. "Why don't you check out the river, see if it's still calm. I could use a bath." Jhorgab wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You should have been born a fish." "Go on," she said smiling. "By the time you're back, the meat will be ready." "If I were doing the cooking, it would be done already," he grumbled. "Do you think we should wake them?" He nodded in the direction of Mulder and Scully, sleeping folded in each other's arms. She shook her head. "No, let them sleep. They need it." The troll trudged off down the path. Shannon sat, idly turning the spit and listening to the unaccustomed quiet. But now that without Jhorgab's chatter she could hear her own mind, she wasn't sure she wanted to. It seemed she always drifted to thoughts of Andalor. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Did his heart begin to thump wildly when he thought of her, as hers did for him? Impatiently, she flicked her long ebony braid back over her shoulder. What was she doing? Thinking about Andalor was a waste of time. They would never be allowed to have more than they had right now - a friendship. Trouble was, while that was nice, she wasn't sure that it was what she wanted. That night on the battlements, when he had wrapped her in his cloak - for the first time something stirred deep within her that felt like.... No, I can't do this to myself, she thought. If I'm going to stay here in the Realm, I'd better get over this. She poked the fire glumly. Suddenly, hearing a noise behind her, she was on her feet with her sword drawn. "Excellent instincts. And you thought you wouldn't make a good warrior," teased Scully. She disentangled herself from Mulder's long limbs, and sitting up, stretched like a sated cat. Shannon slid her sword back into its sheath and returned to minding the food. "Have a nice nap?" "Yeah. Did I miss anything?" "Just Jhorgab's discourses on anything and everything. I finally sent him to check out the river before I lost it completely." Scully frowned. "Shannon, that could be dangerous. What if a woodscat -" " 'Woodscats are nocturnal creatures and are rarely seen in the daylight. Indeed, it is not even known where they sleep during the day, but -' do I really have to go on? I now know more about woodscats than anyone has a right to know. Besides," she added darkly, "he would have been in more danger if he had stayed here and kept pestering me about when the food was going to be ready." Scully chuckled. "Where'd the food come from?" "Oh, Jhorgab and I went hunting. It was that or listen to him whine about there only being bread and cheese left to eat, 'and hardly enough just for him'. I thought under the circumstances, hunting was the lesser of the two evils. Anyway, in case you woke up, I thought you two might like to have a little time 'alone'," she said archly, sneaking Scully a sly grin. "Thanks for thinking about us," said Scully dryly. In spite of the cool of her words, she felt the telltale blush color her neck and face. Shannon giggled and said, "Okay, I think it's done. It's duck - or something duck-like. Are you hungry?" "Famished. I haven't really eaten since the picnic on the beach - Goddess, was that only yesterday? Seems like forever." "Well then, try this. You might find out I'm a better cook than I am a warrior." Scully took the plate she offered and tried some of the tender meat. "It's delicious. I don't know what a cook's aura looks like, but you may have some culinary talents at that. What's this?" "I made a kind of relish with those cranberry things. What do you think?" "Could use a touch of honey, but not bad." She turned as Mulder stirred beside her. "Trust you to wake up when there's food. How're you feeling?" He sat up gingerly and surveyed his tattered, bloodstained clothing. "Better than I look. Did someone mention food?" "FOOD!" Jhorgab hurtled up the path and slid to a halt near Shannon. "That wasn't fair! You sent me away and now everyone's eating except me! Really, you shouldn't have -" "Here!" The girl silenced him by handing him a plate with more than even a troll's share of the feast. He withdrew to the other side of the fire and began stuffing food into his mouth. The others averted their gaze. The troll's table manners tended to put a damper on their appetites. They chatted, mostly about trivialities, as they ate. Scully cast an occasional glance at her bondmate, trying to pick up clues that would explain why he would have left her side the night before. She kept her shields in place, deliberately blocking his attempts to reach her. They exchanged one of their patented looks - the "we'll talk about this later" one. Mulder grimaced a bit after his third vain attempt to communicate in their unique way. In truth, he felt more than a little ashamed, now hard put to explain even to himself why he had gone tearing off into the woods. In the light of day, the whole concept seemed ridiculous, that Samantha could be here, in this world. But last night - her cries seemed so substantive, so real. He finished his meal in silence. Shannon tossed down her plate and groaned. "That was great, if I do say so myself. Now all I need is a bath, and I'll feel almost human again." Scully glanced, smiling, at the girl, then turned serious. "Shannon, your leg looks terrible!" Shannon winced as she stood and looked down at her left calf, where the night before the woodscat had raked three deep gashes in her skin. "Looks bad, feels worse," she admitted. The wound edges were puffy and inflamed. "Where were you going to bathe?" Scully, all healer now, got up and moved a few paces to her saddlebags, only to be struck by the wave of vertigo that was becoming so familiar these days. She staggered, then steadied herself. Mulder had thrown his hands down on the ground beside him, in a hasty attempt to keep from falling over. She pulled a pouch from one of the saddlebag compartments, and returned to stand near Mulder. The bond effects were worsening. "The river. Jhorgab said it's really clear and calm today." She dropped her shield and the bondmates talked over the risks of further intervention by their mysterious enemy. "All right. But not alone. Jhorgab will go with you." "Dana!" The girl blushed furiously, and turned unbelieving eyes to Mulder and Scully. "Jhorgab will keep his back to the river," said Mulder firmly, looking pointedly at the troll. "But he will be there for you if there's trouble. Do we have an understanding, Jhorgab?" He nodded, wide-eyed. "Of course, certainly, Mage Mulder. I stay close, but keep my eyes away from Shannon. I understand, and I certainly understand your reasons, as a good taabsut, for taking every precaution. But I must say, however, that I find your halla too tall and skinny to be attractive in any way, and I - " Scully smothered a laugh. "I think you've said enough, Jhorgab. Shannon, you can't go alone, it isn't safe. I'd come with you, but since we can't seem to get more than two paces away from each other, I'd have to bring Mulder. Jhorgab will behave himself, or he'll spend the rest of the journey as a pack horse." The little troll grimaced. "Here. Use this powder. It will work like soap and help disinfect the wound. When you come back, I'll go to work on it." Shannon grabbed the pouch and some clean clothes. She trudged off down the path, her ever-loquacious shadow by her side. Even before she turned to speak, Mulder could tell by the set of her shoulders and the tenseness in her body that they were about to have that postponed discussion. "Dana, I -" "What the hell did you mean by last night's stunt? What the hell were you trying to prove? Goddamn it, Mulder, you could have been killed. If not by this...this... THING we have between us, then by falling off that goddamn cliff or getting eaten by wild animals. What were you thinking?" Furious tears filled her eyes. All shields were dropped now, and he was almost knocked over by the force of the wave of terror and hurt that surged from her mind. "Dana, it was Samantha." "WHAT?" He shook his head, then looked up into her eyes, to see fear and bewilderment. Explanations were definitely in order. "It wasn't her. I mean, of course it wasn't her. And it does seem crazy, I know, now in the light of day. But last night...it seemed so real." He sighed, hesitating. "I...heard her. It was just like...before.... She was calling to me to help her. The voice seemed close and I just went a little way into the woods, to see if I could spot her, and then the voice got further away, and I just..." His voice faded. Only now did the full import of his actions hit him. "I didn't think. I just kept feeling worse and worse, and I never gave it a thought that you would be feeling the same way. God, Dana, I'm so sorry. You're right. You're absolutely right. You should be pissed at me. I'm pissed at myself. I don't have the faintest idea now why I could even think for a moment that she could have been here. But last night..." He broke off, searching her face for some sign that perhaps she could understand what he couldn't understand himself. And she did. He felt a wave of love and comfort envelop him like a warm blanket. "I know why...you just couldn't go through it all again. Not if there were even the remotest chance that it could really be Samantha out there." He sent a flood of gratitude her way. Gratitude for her understanding, for being at his side, for simply being herself. She smiled one of her "just for him" smiles. Then she turned business-like again. "Well, our solo days are over, Mulder. If what we just experienced when I went to get my saddlebags is any clue, we're going to be joined at the hip from now on, or suffer the consequences. Next time you go haring off in the woods, you're not ditching me." "I wouldn't dream of it." He caught her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. His mouth covered hers, his tongue delving deep inside. Moments later, they pulled apart, breathless. His eyes twinkled and his generous mouth was upturned at the corners. "When the kids come back, what do you say you and I go down to the river for a swim?" Scully smile broadened. - - - - - They arrived in Peaksview as the sun was setting. The trip had been difficult, especially for the last candlemark, all uphill and the path so narrow and dangerous that they went single file or led their horses on foot. Even being separated by the mere length of a horse was difficult for the bondmates, struggling against the irritability and nausea, clutching desperately at their reins to avoid a fall that would mean a long painful slide down the mountain. They rode side by side now into the village, legs brushing, sometimes even compelled to reach out and caress the arm of the other to get the comfort only touching now seemed to bring. They dismounted outside a busy inn and went through the customary haggling over the price of rooms. The troll innkeeper seemed less impressed with the Mage than the fact that there was a troll traveling with his party. The three rooms they finally agreed on were the last in town. The next day was to be the area's Spring Market Fair, and beings from all over the eastern portion of this world were pouring into Peaksview. Jhorgab stayed behind to gossip as the three humans climbed wearily up the wooden staircase to their rooms. "Let's meet downstairs in a candlemark to eat," Mulder called to Shannon. She waved, and entered her room, closely followed by the innkeeper's son with a bucket of hot water for bathing. The bondmates waited for their own wash water to arrive, then fell on the bed which took up most of the floorspace in the tiny chamber. He stroked her hair, marveling at the strength of his partner. She appeared no more discomfited by their long journey than if she had just stepped off the shuttle at Dulles. Maybe less - given her dislike of flying. He knew better, of course. Having access to her mind, he could have easily peeked in to view the exhaustion from the rigors of travel. But Scully being Scully, she would never show it, even to him. And Mulder being Mulder, he would give her that, would not disrupt the myth she fashioned so carefully for the world. "Mmmm, we couldn't stay like this for the next several days, could we? A bed," said Mulder, eyes closed in bliss. "A comfortable bed. I'm in heaven." Scully chuckled, sitting up but maintaining physical contact with her bondmate. "Tempting thought. But I'm more happy with the fact that, natural hazards aside, this leg of the trip was without interference from our mysterious enemy. You know, Mulder, it's also a stroke of luck that the Market Fair is tomorrow. This place is mobbed. With all the extra beings in town, our chances have improved of finding someone who might know of Hannu's whereabouts." "Shh, not so loud - you'll jinx us." Mulder curled around her body, resting his head on her leg, a soft smile on his face. Suddenly her mind was suffused with his memories of their highly satisfactory "swim" earlier in the day. "I don't have to guess what you're thinking, do I?" she smiled, but didn't protest as he drew her to him. - - - - - A candlemark later, they all met and managed to grab the last table in the busy tavern that adjoined the inn. Jhorgab insisted in ordering for everyone from the troll cuisine presented on the large board on which the bill of fare was written. What the food may have lacked in taste, it made up for in quantity, and a beatific smile lit the troll's features as, for the first time in many days, he was actually full. Finally they all sat back on the rough wooden benches and sipped their tea. "There are more kinds of beings here than I ever imagined," said Shannon, wide-eyed. Over in one corner of the big room, a large group of Gilfralian cat people sat, hissing and spitting in their strange language. She indicated several beings across the room, sitting near the huge hearth. They were very tall, especially in this world of mostly small creatures, and quite hairy, reminding her of Chewbacca from the Star Wars movies. "Jhorgab, what are those beings?" "Ah, those must be Urtrads," he replied. "You're very fortunate to see them. They are usually extremely reclusive, living at the tops of the highest mountains where there is always snow. They're probably down for the Market Fair - stocking up on supplies after the long winter. I've never seen any myself, but they fit the descriptions I've heard. It is said they never speak. They communicate by means of grunts, whistles and hand signals." The travelers watched as the group appeared to be carrying on a conversation of sorts using fleeting, subtle gestures and facial expressions. "What about those beings?" Scully asked, pointing to a small contingent of human-looking beings - human-looking if one discounted the blue skin, orange hair, clawlike hands and tusks, that is. "Ugh, those." Jhorgab grunted. His expression darkened and he lowered his voice. "Now those beings I have met before. You don't want to mess with them. They're called rax. They come from the coastal regions in the extreme east, a peninsula near Horsehead Bay. Their tempers make the elves' look tame. They look for trouble, and create it when they don't find any." "They seem well-behaved at the moment," commented Mulder mildly. The words were hardly out of his mouth when one of the rax sprang from his chair to grab the waiter by the throat, holding him dangling off the floor. "Sorry, I spoke too soon." Jhorgab's expression was a smug I-told-you-so. "Mulder, can you do anything? The waiter's turning as blue as the rax," Scully asked anxiously. He closed his eyes and concentrated, then pointed a finger in the direction of the belligerent rax. A blue fireball shot from his hand to hover just above the rax's head. The laughter and shouts of the unruly group abruptly stopped, and a silence descended upon the tavern as the patrons watched, fascinated. The Rax and Mulder made eye contact, Mulder's gaze cool, unwavering, and the fireball dropping just a little closer to the frizzy orange hair. With a sneer, the Rax dropped the waiter, picked up his chair, and sat down. The fireball disappeared, and the room once again was filled with chatter. "Well, they're argumentative but they appear to exercise good judgment," the Mage said. "You know, there's just about every type of being here except the one I'd like to find - a gargoyle." "So you can see about translating the scroll?" Scully stood and peered around. "Wait! There's one over there," she said, nodding toward the bar. "Great! I'll be back in just a second." Automatically, he got up and began to stride over toward the gargoyle. After a few steps, he staggered. "Uh...Scully?" "I'm with you, Mulder." She rose carefully and went to him, both feeling better when she lightly took hold of his arm. They continued to the bar. Shannon and Jhorgab watched as they exchanged words with the gargoyle, then returned to their seats. "He wasn't terribly...receptive," Scully explained, hiding a grin. "Wouldn't you know, I finally find a gargoyle and he doesn't speak the damned language," Mulder grumbled, shaking his head. "Must be one of the 'undesirables' Mikora mentioned." "Well, I think we'd better try to take advantage of the number of beings here and start asking about Hannu," suggested Scully. "Giving our friends the Rax a miss, of course." They paid for their meal over the earnest protests of the waiter the Rax had accosted, and split into two teams. Two candlemarks later, they met in the bondmates' room. "Okay, what did you get?" asked Mulder wearily. Shannon collapsed on the bed with Mulder and Scully, rubbing her eyes. "Hannu is dead. Hannu is alive, but on another world. Hannu is alive, but has changed himself into - fill in the blank. Hannu is back, but his whereabouts are unknown. Hannu is alive and well and stays that way because he kills everyone who goes looking for him. Hannu is alive and well and living at - get this - Fairwoods Keep. Take your pick." "So your luck wasn't any better than ours, I take it," said Scully. "Oh, Scully, I kind of liked the one about how Hannu was living out his days as a fearsome sand beast in the Great Rose Desert," replied Mulder. He sighed. "Look, it's late and we're tired. Let's get some rest and we'll try again tomorrow. At least the word is out that we're looking for Hannu - maybe something will come of that." - - - - - She watched the tall human from the safety of the shadows - not that she was likely to be noticed in any event. She focused on the girl's aura. It was as she had been told - the vibrant warrior green with ripples of Mage blue. A rare combination, but there it was before her eyes. She looked on as the girl made her way from tent to kiosk to booth, looking over the wares for sale and exchanging a few words with the sellers. So she was still searching, Laira thought. Laira maintained her watch, now noticing a young troll hurry up to the girl. They spoke for several moments, then she nodded and the troll bustled away again. The tall girl crossed the marketplace and approached the booths on this side, near to where she hid. Sniffing the air, taking a quick glance around, Laira joined the throng of shoppers milling around the marketplace. Shannon toyed with some knives at a smith's kiosk, examining the blades with a practiced eye. "I can do something for you? My craftsmanship is second to none. A nice new knife, perhaps, for the lady warrior?" asked the elven proprietor. "Perhaps," Shannon said coolly. "Although I am more interested in information." "That, too, may be available - for a price." She nodded curtly. "If your information is worth paying for. I want to find a Mage named Hannu." "Hannu! Not an easy task. There are stories, of course...." An avaricious gleam came into the elf's eyes. "Perhaps I could ask around, contact some beings I know. Surely that would be worth some small recompense for my trouble?" A look of uncertainty crossed the girl's face. Three candlemarks, and so far she and Jhorgab had nothing to show for it. If there was even a chance.... Her hand moved toward the money pouch that dangled from her belt. "Save your money, warrior. He knows nothing of value." Shannon looked down at a tiny elderly female elf. Small sparkling black eyes met questioning amber ones. The elf laid a hand on her arm, drawing her away from the kiosk and the now- angry proprietor. They made their way through the crowd and the noise, and stepped inside a quiet tea shop. They took a table in the corner, and Shannon nodded to the waiter. They maintained their silence until the tea had been served and the first sip taken. "It is a matter of the greatest urgency that I find Hannu," Shannon began in a low voice. "Can you help me?" "Yes, I have heard that you are searching for Mage Hannu. Why do you want to find him?" Shannon looked at the old elf appraisingly. She seemed reliable, her shining white braid twisted in a bun on the top of her head, her wrinkled face guileless. But she had almost been burned by the knife-seller, and it had made her cautious. "I'm not at liberty to discuss our mission. I can say only that the matter is urgent, and has the blessing of King Andalor." Laira nodded, not surprised by the revelation. She took another sip of tea. "I cannot help you until I know a little more. I, too, have my orders." Shannon hesitated, then slowly replied, "I travel with my taabsut, a powerful Mage. Let me discuss this with him. If he wishes to contact you, where can we meet?" "Bring your Mage to the bread shop two candlemarks after sunset. The shop will be closed, but knock at the door. You will be admitted. But only you and the Mage," the elf warned. The girl shook her head. "That's not possible. There is another who travels with us. She must also be present." "Out of the question. I'm taking a chance as it is." The elf's lips were set in a firm line. Shannon was equally adamant. "What if she were to go instead of me? She must be with the Mage, or there will be no meeting." "Why?" Shannon sighed. This was the best lead they had gotten, but she was reluctant to part with one bit of information more than absolutely necessary. At the same time, somehow she had to gain the elf's trust. "Again, it is not for me to tell you. Please understand, our journey so far has been difficult. We have all been in peril of our lives. There is someone or something trying to stop us. Someone or something evil. We have to be careful." The elf seemed to soften a bit. "How would I know this other woman?" "Her aura is that of a warrior and healer." For just a split second, the old elf's eyes widened in surprise. Could it be? Now it was her turn to appraise Shannon. After a moment, she nodded. "Very well. Send the Mage and this woman you speak of. My name is Laira. Tell the Mage to speak my name when he knocks at the door." "Laira. I'll remember." "Good. Now go to your Mage and discuss this. And tell him he must be more forthcoming with information than you have been if he is to learn what he wants." Shannon nodded. "I'll tell him." Laira finished her tea and stood to leave. "Stay here and finish your tea. Don't leave this shop until I am well clear of the marketplace - say, a quarter of a candlemark. If you try to follow me, there will be no meeting." "No problem. And Laira - thank you." The old elf nodded slowly, a faint smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Then she turned and stepped out the door. - - - - - The cobblestone streets were lively only near the marketplace. The tiny culdesac the pair turned down was dark and forbidding, making the laughter and the gaiety of the marketplace seem much further away than it actually was. The bondmates walked hand in hand, both wearing heavy cloaks against the sharp night mountain air. "I don't like this, Mulder. I don't like it at all. This could be a trap." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "We've been over this. Yes, it could be a trap, but it's a risk we have to take. It's still the best lead we've gotten so far on Hannu. We don't have a choice." "I feel like we're being watched," Scully muttered, peering around at the darkened windows and doorways of the closed shops. "We probably are," he replied mildly. "But it could be worse...at least the Realm hasn't discovered guns. Okay, this is it." They approached a metal-bound wooden door. Mulder raised the heavy iron knocker and brought it down firmly three times. Inside, they thought they could hear movement. Mulder knocked again, calling softly, "Laira?" The door opened to reveal the tiny elven female, stooped with age, carrying a candle. "Follow me," she demanded in a low voice. They entered the shop, redolent with the comforting aroma of the day's baking. Except for Laira's candle, there was no light. They followed her through another door, and heard her speak again. "Close the door behind you. Take three paces further into the chamber, and then stop." The tone of her voice left no room for argument. They did as she commanded, standing still in the pitch dark for several moments, hearing only the movements of the old elf. Finally she emerged from yet another door, carrying a torch. "Remove your cloaks and drop them to the floor." They complied as she lit the three other torches in the room. The chamber was made of white stone, the one small window covered in some sort of dark material, allowing no light to escape. As they looked around, blinking against the sudden bright illumination, she took stock of her visitors. There was no guesswork, no hidden surprises to be feared from her reading of the Mage's aura. As clear and pure a Mage blue as she had ever seen, just as she had been told. His companion, the woman - her aura was the telltale green of the warrior and brown of the healer, with.... She gasped. Those touches of blue which exactly matched that of the Mage could mean only one thing. Laira took a shaky breath. But could she believe her own eyes or was this some sort of illusion? "Forgive my rudeness, Mage, but it was necessary. Let's withdraw to a more comfortable chamber." She took her torch and motioned for them to retrieve their cloaks and follow her once more, this time entering a small but welcoming room, three armchairs pulled invitingly close to the hearth. "Please sit while I fix tea." "Mage Mulder," she said after the tea had been distributed, "tell me the reason for your quest for Hannu." "Isn't it enough to know that we are who we say we are?" countered Scully. "And how am I to know who you are?" Mulder looked directly into her eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I assume you had us remove our cloaks and stand in a white room so you could read our auras, am I correct? They are...distinctive, are they not?" "What business is it of yours why we have to find Hannu?" Scully asked suspiciously. "We come on the business of King Andalor and the Royal Mage Reinald. That should be enough." Laira smiled grimly. "Perhaps it should be, but it isn't. Now why do you seek Hannu?" //We have to tell her.\\ His eyes caught Scully's for a moment, then slid back to the elf. //Why? She's given us no assurances. Mulder, think. How do we know we're not being set up? We could spill our guts, only to have her turn into... I don't know. Something. Something in league with whoever or whatever is trying to stop us.\\ //I think we can trust her.\\ //Based on what?\\ //A hunch.\\ //You want to lay everything on the line, based on a hunch.\\ Scully's face was clearly disbelieving. He shrugged imperceptibly. //She's a tough cookie. We're not going to get any information if we don't, it's as simple as that. It's a calculated risk, but one worth taking. And just in case it makes a difference, I don't sense any Black Arts at work here.\\ Scully's stony expression relaxed slightly. //You don't mind if I'm ready, just in case?\\ //I was counting on it.\\ His thoughts carried the sense of loving amusement, pride and rock-solid trust. He sat forward, maintaining eye contact with the old elf. "Laira, our mission is twofold. Most importantly, we are trying to save the Realm. Beings are at each other's throats in villages all across the land - sometimes based on interspecies hatred, sometimes for no discernible reason at all. The bloodshed has been terrible. Mage Reinald and I believe that someone is using the Black Arts to cause it. Someone extremely powerful." "Surely you do not accuse Hannu of such horror!" Mulder sat back, surprised, and felt Scully's shock as well. "No, we never thought that for a single moment. We seek Hannu for answers." "What answers?" He opened his arms wide. "Who could be causing the hatred that is spurring the bloodshed. How that being can be defeated. How we can put a stop to the violence that is tearing the Realm apart." She thought for a moment. "You said your mission is twofold." "Our other reason for seeking Hannu is...personal." Laira shook her head vehemently. "Not good enough, Mage. I can help you, but I must be absolutely sure of your motives before I do." Mulder looked at Scully whose jaw was set in the stubborn expression he knew so well, and her eyes had taken on a steely glint. It was time to draw the line. "We mean Hannu no harm. We seek only his advice and his knowledge. If you read auras as well as I think you do, you'll know I'm not lying. Our second mission affects no one but Scully and myself. As I said, it's personal. Take it or leave it." He sat back and allowed his aura to flare a little, reflecting his growing impatience. Involuntarily, Laira shrank back. The Mage was growing angry, and a Mage's wrath... But he was controlling it. No thunder sounded outside, no rain beat upon the windows of the little chamber. That said something of the man's character, she thought, more perhaps than words. She had her orders, but surely this situation called for a little latitude. The other safeguards were still in place. Safeguards that would not allow him to pass further if he were not sufficiently wise, if his mission was not sufficiently urgent. Slowly she nodded. "Very well. I will take a chance. What do you know of Hannu?" "Really, very little," answered Mulder. "In a way, this quest was launched more on wishful thinking than real expectations. We didn't even know for sure he existed until recently." "How did you determine that?" "Mainly because of the interference we've been getting as we've gotten closer to Hannu's rumored whereabouts," Scully replied. "Our journey so far has been plagued by bandits, animal attacks, unexplainable accidents, and lately, outright attempts on our lives. At first it just seemed like bad luck, but after the past couple of days, we now believe the Blacks Arts are involved." "How so?" Mulder tapped the side of his nose with an index finger. The old elf's head bobbed. "Ah, yes. I have heard that powerful Mages can smell the stench of the Black Arts." "I don't think that there would be as much effort to stop us if we were on a fool's errand," continued Mulder. So we deduced that Hannu must exist, and we must be headed in generally the right direction. But now we're at an impasse unless we get more information." "And the most difficult part of your journey is yet to come, Mage." Mulder and Scully looked at each other with misgiving. Here they had been daring to hope that things might get easier from here on. "Most difficult?" Laira rose to place another log on the fire. "I will not tell you more about Hannu. Only that there is at least an element of truth to the legends you may have heard. He can tell you more about himself, if he so wishes." She returned to sit and skewered Mulder with her stare. "That is, assuming you make it that far." //I don't know about you, but I've just about had it with the thinly veiled threats and the suspicion and the contrived mystery here.\\ Scully fumed. //Easy. We won't get anywhere by getting pissed off.\\ "What is going to make the rest of our journey so difficult? I would have thought that being almost stabbed, slashed, eaten, drowned and lured off a cliff would be enough for any trip." The old elf snorted. "You seem to have made a formidable enemy, Mage." She shook her head. "I have one function and one function only - to get you to the next step." "Which is?" Scully asked coldly. "Tomorrow you must depart for Treetops, a day's journey north of here, through the mountains. There you will be contacted by the village Mage. He will tell you how to proceed." "And?" The single syllable had a knife-sharp edge. Her warrior aura was now predominant, the blue and brown merely amorphous smudges and almost unnoticeable. "And nothing. I can't tell you any more." "Can't? Or won't?" Scully demanded. Up until now, the elf had directed most of her attention to Mulder. Now she turned to Scully. In her most conciliatory tone, Laira replied, "Can't, actually. I don't know any more...not for sure, anyway." Mulder leaned forward and treated the Elf to the open, honest gaze that women in two worlds had found irresistible. "Look, Laira. You know how important our mission is, I know you do. Anything you can tell us that would help us out - please, we need your help." He reached over and grasped her gnarled, wrinkled hand. "I've spoken the truth. I know nothing more. But..." She sighed. "I will tell you this. You will never find Hannu unless you employ all your wisdom, all your goodness. A test awaits you." She hesitated, then continued. "I have sent only a few to the village Mage of Treetops. He has sent even fewer onward. And I know of no one who has actually reached Hannu." She looked at him sadly. The room was silent, each listening only to his or her own thoughts. Mulder stood. "Thank you, Laira, for your candor. But we must find Hannu. We have no choice." He and Scully donned their cloaks and went to the door, leaving the old elf sitting by the fire. They were out of the chamber when she finally spoke. "Goddess be with you, Mage Mulder. If anyone can each Hannu, I believe it will be you." End of Chapter Fifteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Sixteen The journey to Treetops passed in blissful serenity. The forest thickened as they rose in altitude, the small path winding precariously between dense walls of growth. Occasionally they could hear the call of birds from high above, sweet whistles punctuated by harsh cries. The air was pungent, thick with a nearly indistinguishable variety of fragrances, flowery perfume melding with the deepness of the rich brown earth. Heavily leafed tree branches arched high above their heads, forcing the light to filter down in a wavy, striated pattern, shifting with every movement of the wind. The tree trunks rose high and wide along the narrow road, obscuring any look deeper into the forest. Mulder found himself eyeing the dark shadows beyond with concern, but Jhorgab was visibly cheerier as they went deeper into the forest. "This is just like home," he chattered brightly, regaling them with tales of his childhood in the north. Shannon groaned when he started, but no one interrupted, for the lightness of his voice carried them forward, making the time pass easier. Even so, they were exhausted by the time the road widened, breaking into sporadic clearings and then finally, into a larger enclave of huts and wooden dwellings, set precariously against the edge of a sharp, stone-lined river. The water rushed furiously over boulders, splashing up against slices of rock, swirling against tree roots as it hurried on its way. There was only a single street in the little village, a slight widening of the road they were on, lined on either side by the small houses. The center was marked by the presence of two larger buildings, one easily recognizable as a temple, the other as the town meeting place. There did not appear to be an inn of any sort, something they had not considered before they left. Mulder sighed under his breath at the thought of yet another night spent camping, and Scully chuckled at his expression of dismay. //It's not so bad. Maybe someone will offer us a place to stay, and if not, at least these trees will provide good shelter.\\ Her hand squeezed his tightly; even riding side-by-side, they were uncomfortable unless in constant physical contact. It was not so demanding that they couldn't go a short pace without touching, but the relief was palpable when they did reach out to touch each other. The feel of skin on skin was electric, a soothing wave of comfort over tensed nerves. Mulder frowned, rubbing at his chin. //I don't know. We don't know what could be hiding in those woods. Still, I suppose it's better than trying to find cover on the open plains. Maybe...I wonder where everyone is?\\ So far they had not seen a living soul, although there were signs of habitation, tools and tended gardens, lights gleaming through curtained windows. Scully felt a jolt of concern, but they were already pulling to a halt in front of the small white temple, the doors engraved with an elaborate pattern of carvings, whirling shapes, and archaic runes. "So what now?" Shannon asked. "Dinner?" Jhorgab said hopefully. Shannon shot him an irritated glare, though she couldn't help agreeing with him a moment later. "That's not such a bad idea. I don't suppose they have a restaurant around anywhere?" "What's a ..." Jhorgab began, only to fall silent as they were suddenly surrounded by men. Mulder reined in his horse tightly, letting his cloak swirl around him, the dark blue color a visible warning around his lean body. Scully sat straight and solid by his side, controlling her horse with muscular thighs, her eyes making a slow, meticulous survey of their surroundings. They were not accustomed to seeing sudden hostility from the Realm dwellers, but times had changed. Given the dark influence flowing over the land, they could not take any chances. "Who are you?" growled a deep bass voice. Four pairs of eyes turned to face him; he was as massive as any of the huge oaks that rose so close behind them. His neck seemed wider than Mulder's waist, his face was thicker than Jourdain's with corded muscles that rippled with every motion of his huge arms. Mulder inclined his head in the man's direction. "I am Mulder, this is Scully, my halla Shannon, and our guide Jhorgab. We have come to talk with your village Mage." Before the big man could reply, a trilling voice interrupted him. "Stand aside, Nordan. All of you. These travelers are expected." A man, as little as Nordan was big, pushed his way up to stand in front of Mulder's horse. His spindly body was encased in the blue robe of a Mage, his long white hair flowing down his back. He bowed to Mulder. "Mage Mulder?" Mulder nodded. "I am Creve, the village Mage. Laira informed me you would be arriving soon. Please, come with me." Creve's narrow face took on a pinched look, his nostrils flaring. "There is ... much... we must talk of. Come, come..." He turned and imperiously walked away, obviously expecting them to follow. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances, then did so. - - - - - Creve had waited patiently while they settled the horses in front of his house, fastening the reins to a small wooden fence. There was plenty of grass and leaves in easy reach, and the animals were soon munching away. When they had gathered their packs, he waved urgently at them, inviting them inside. His house was small, the low doorway forcing Mulder to duck his head. Scully grinned at him, and he scowled dramatically, then grinned, his fingers tightening on hers. Their shoulders brushed against each other as they entered the living room of the cottage, sending a matched set of shivers down their arms to pool between their clasped palms. Their eyes met and clung, and it took a force of will to make them focus on something, anything, but each other. Creve was bustling around, preparing the inevitable tea, and at this point, all four of the travelers were anxious for the soothing beverage. Soon enough, they were all clustered in front of the fireplace, steaming cups of tea in their hands, a platter of bread and fruit set before them. Jhorgab munched happily, squatting on the floor at Shannon's feet, while Mulder and Scully were squeezed in beside each other on a larger divan. "So," Creve began abruptly. "You seek Hannu of the Forest." Mulder nodded. "Yes. We have been sent by King Andalor on an urgent mission to ask for Mage Hannu's assistance." Creve frowned, sipping cautiously at his tea. His mouth pursed. "Laira informed me that you came for two reasons." Mulder and Scully exchanged a darting glance, then Scully responded. "Then she must also have told you that the second reason is a personal one." Creve's eyes narrowed. "Hannu does not like wasting his time dealing with other people's personal problems." "That's understandable," Scully said delicately, leaning forward in her seat to fix the Mage with a calm blue stare. "But this is something that only Hannu may be able to help us with. We wouldn't have come this far if there had been an easier alternative." Creve met her clear gaze for a moment, then looked down into his tea. He heaved a huge sigh, his small frame trembling as the air whooshed out of his lungs. When he turned his brown eyes back up at their faces, his expression was grave. "Laira believes that you should be allowed to continue on from here, and so I will allow it. But the path you must take is not an easy one. There will be obstacles for you to overcome. Listen carefully, for I can only tell you this once." Mulder fixed him with burning eyes, a sharp flare of intelligence flaming behind emerald irises. Creve swallowed hard, sensing more than seeing the surge of power that swirled around the other Mage. Mulder nodded, Creve took one more swallow of his tea, and began to speak. "You will leave at dawn. I will take you to the edge of the path you must follow, but I can go no further. Stay on the path and do not leave it for any reason. At the end of the path, if you make it that far, you will find Hannu waiting for you. But there will be three barriers in your way; three tests that you must pass. And do not tarry over-long on any one of the three, for your time is limited. You have until sunset only, and if you do not pass all three tests and reach the end of the path by then, you will not be allowed to finish. You can turn back at any time, but if you do so, or if you fail to pass any of the tests or to complete the journey in the allotted time, you will not get a second chance. So think upon it carefully tonight - once you start, there will be no second chance." Jhorgab was so stunned by the Mage's words that his hand froze in the process of lifting bread to his mouth. Shannon looked to Mulder and Scully, and found them focused on Creve with total absorption. Scully's head was lifted, her chin thrust forward. Mulder was leaning down, his eyes hooded. Someone who did not know them well would assume they were lost in their own private contemplation, but Shannon knew better; knew that those two minds were never separated, always working together, arguing, sharing, trading thoughts and ideas upon the wings of his imagination and the solid earth of her logic. Abruptly, both shifted at once, Mulder again letting Scully speak for them both, remaining a silent force at her side. "What kind of tests will these be?" she asked. Creve shook his head. "I cannot tell you that. For everyone they are different, and yet the same. You must prove the depth of your hearts and the acuity of your minds, the clarity of your vision. The easiest choice may not be the right one, and all is not as it appears." He fell silent, his mouth clamping shut, his eyes furtive, almost as though he had said too much. Though not nearly enough for the four travelers, who were aching with frustration at the cryptic warning. Before they could ask another question, Creve got decisively to his feet. "You are welcome to stay here tonight, though I cannot offer you more than the floor before the fire. Sleep as well as you can, and consider carefully my words. Tomorrow at dawn you must leave, if you are still determined to go." - - - - - Scully nuzzled against his chest, sighing as his arms tightened reflexively around her. Her hair spilled against his shoulder, gleaming brighter than the fire itself. Mulder ran his fingers through the auburn strands gently, caressing her scalp, even as his mind twined with hers. //What do you think?\\ //Mmm,\\ she murmured contentedly before focusing the knife-blade of her intellect. //At least we know now what Daanna meant when she said we'd have to pass the tests to find the blue man. I'm still amazed she could predict that well. No wonder Aldara gets concerned about her.\\ Scully's thoughts were rich with rueful astonishment, but she forced it aside for more pressing concerns. //I get the feeling that this Hannu likes to play games with people,\\ she continued, her thoughts sharp as a steel blade. Mulder mirrored her frustration fiercely. //Guess we'll just have to out-play him,\\ he replied obstinately. Scully smiled against the thick fabric of his tunic. Mulder never backed down from a challenge, and the more someone tried to stop him, the more determined he got. Hannu didn't know what he was messing with in her bondmate; this was a man who'd taken on most of the U.S. government at one time or another, and while he may not have come out unscathed, he'd come out undaunted. She chuckled lightly, letting him simply feel her love and support. He pressed a kiss into the sweet-scented tumble of her hair, then his thoughts turned solemn, a slow worm of concern creeping down their lifebond. //Maybe we should leave Shannon and Jhorgab here. After all, this is primarily our problem, not theirs.\\ Scully was silent, even psychically, for a long moment. When her response came, it was slow, sadly certain. //No, I don't think we can leave them here. Shannon would never let us do it without a fight, and I can't really blame her. She's come this far, she has a right to see it through. And we might need her. Besides, I think she's supposed to come with us....\\ That last thought escaped Scully before she had realized it; before she knew where it had come from. It rang with certainty, unshakable truth, but she couldn't have told anyone, even Mulder, why. Her nerves jangled, and Mulder responded with a quick rush of reassurance, colored by confusion and concern. //What is it, love?\\ he asked. She tightened her arms around him, letting her fingers clutch at his back. //Nothing...\\ she tried to reassure him, only to get a silent vision of him shaking his head, a non-verbal sense of him refusing to accept the easy lie. //I just...I can't explain it. But Shannon has to come with us. I don't know how I know, I just know...\\ her mind-voice was plaintive, and he easily recognized her distress. Scully had come to terms with the Realm and its magical qualities, but mostly because she'd come to see the magic as something quantifiable, understandable. Something that could be tested, experimented on, studied and known. And their bond was so much a part of them that she had almost forgotten what life was like without it. Even her healing talent had become acceptable, because it, too, involved familiar processes. But the unknown still frightened her, and this unquantifiable, sudden sense of knowing disturbed her greatly. Mulder frowned, even as he bathed her mind in the balm of his love. He fully believed that Scully had more psychic talent than she could admit even to herself, or maybe least of all to herself. But now was not a good time for it to be asserting itself, and he didn't like the revelation. It made him even more nervous about bringing Shannon into this situation. She was in his care, and he felt fiercely protective of her. He'd lost so many people who mattered to him, and when he was being truly honest with himself, he knew he saw a reflection of Samantha in Shannon. Sometimes it made him ache inside looking at her; he could almost close his eyes and picture Samantha standing there, tall and slender, long dark hair whipping around her shoulders, hazel eyes bright. If only... But he'd had a lifetime filled with regrets and he knew better than to wallow in them. Not that he often didn't but... But at least on the morrow they'd be doing something. Taking action. Sighing, he closed his eyes, sinking down into the link with the lovely woman in his arms, until their minds were so entwined that even single thoughts could not be separated, one from the other. And that joined consciousness settled into simple, solemn resolution; if Shannon was needed with them on this journey, so be it. But together, they'd do whatever was necessary to keep her safe. - - - - - A solemn procession left Creve's small dwelling the next morning. The sun was a burnished orb, streaming red and orange flames across the treetops as the spindly, white-haired Mage led them to the far edge of the village. They proceeded a few feet past the last house, then Creve stopped and turned to the right side of the road. Mulder stared over his shoulder, but could see nothing except the dense growth of the forest. Not so much as the tiniest opening allowed passage, he doubted that even a small animal could penetrate that thick weave of trees and bush. But Creve was undaunted, and he stepped up close to the forest edge. Mulder felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, a static tingle racing down his spine, as the village Mage raised his hands upwards. Creve chanted musically, briefly, in an unknown language, then his aura surged a pale, luminescent blue. A shimmer of light arced out from his extended fingertips towards the forest, striking against a large oak-like tree. There was a sharp flash, forcing the others to shade their eyes for an instant. When they lowered their hands, blinking to clear their vision, the tree was gone. In its place was a brown-laced path, barely wide enough for two horses to ride side-by-side. The trees hovered over it, shielding it from the sunlight, giving the impression of a long dark tunnel. "There," Creve said with little satisfaction. "There is your path. Once you step onto it, you cannot turn back without forfeiting the chance to reach Hannu. Three barriers will stand in your way, you must pass all three before sunset. Do not tarry and do not stray... and may the Gods be with you." Not meeting their eyes, he drew his horse's head around and raced off towards the village without a backwards look. Mulder and Scully paused long enough for a quick kiss. Mulder cupped the side of her heart-shaped face, then swept back a loose strand of red hair. "Ready?" he asked gently. She smiled resolutely, firmly. "Always." He smiled back, loving her courage, her strength, her fierce determination. They'd faced worse together, and probably would again. But as long as she was by his side, little else mattered. //I love you,\\ he said, the feelings forged into a soul-deep promise. //I love you,\\ she replied, matching him heart and soul. As one they turned back to Shannon and Jhorgab, both sitting uneasily on their horses. "All right, let's get going. Scully and I will go first, you two stay close behind," Mulder instructed. The girl and the troll nodded understanding, leaning forward in their saddles in preparation. Scully reached out to squeeze Mulder's hand, then sat up straight and urged her horse forward. Mulder fell in at her side, and together, they left the road for the unknown path, heading deeper into the darkness of the forest. - - - - - They rode for what must have been a couple of candlemarks, time was hard to track in the forest depths. Sunlight barely penetrated here, a few strands weaving their way through the dense blanket of leaves above their head. In order to light their path, Mulder had fashioned and released one of his blue globes of light. It hovered, gleaming, just ahead of them, bouncing softly in the still air. One or two attempts at conversation faltered quickly, even Jhorgab seemed to be at a loss for words. The path wound sharply downward, then upward again, and for a while they could hear the sounds of rushing water, close by, then dying off into the distance as they proceeded further. After yet another long stretch of silence, their nerves were beginning to fray. Nothing seemed to be happening, and the sameness of the path made it feel as though they were standing on a treadmill, moving ever forward, yet going nowhere. Just as Mulder was about to call a short halt, to rest and water the horses, Scully suddenly reined her horse up sharp. "Look, there!" she exclaimed, pointing at a dark shape on the path ahead. It was crumpled against the edge of the forest wall, an outflung arm entangled with strands of green vines. Before Mulder could restrain her, Scully was off her horse and running over to kneel beside the still figure. Gasping as he felt the bond between them tighten and pull on his senses, making his skin itch and his stomach rise into his throat, Mulder followed her, nearly stumbling in his haste to reach her side. Even in the depth of her instinctive concern for the wounded stranger, Scully, too, had felt the immediate effects of putting only a few feet of distance between them. She could feel his every movement, and could barely hold back the sigh of relief as his hand closed upon her shoulder. Leaning back against him, she angled her head to meet his eyes. At the question in those hazel depths, she turned back to gently touch the blue skin of the unconscious humanoid. "It's a Rax, I think. And very seriously hurt. It looks as though he's been in a battle, or mauled by some kind of large animal." "A woodscat?" Mulder asked, lifting his head to stare around him anxiously. Jhorgab and Shannon were already approaching on foot, moving to stand in the center of the path beside them. Scully shrugged. "I don't know, and he's in no condition to say." She sighed. "I know nothing of Rax physiology. He looks human enough, but..." "Aaaiiieee," Jhorgab snorted. "Leave it be. We're probably lucky it's too hurt to cause us trouble." "Jhorgab!" Scully snapped. Shannon threw him a dirty glare but the little troll was unfazed. "Rax are nasty and dangerous. They do nothing but cause trouble." "Well this one's not doing anything but dying," Scully said, reaching out to place her hand on its forehead, sweeping back hair even brighter than her own from a gaping wound. She frowned. "I think the skull is fractured, but I don't see an immediate sign of damage to the underlying brain tissue. Even so..." "Do you think it can be healed?" Mulder asked. Scully sighed. "God, Mulder, I don't know. It certainly needs better treatment than I can give it here. We've got to get it to a village." Mulder glanced around him, then squeezed her shoulder firmly. "There's not much chance of that. We don't know how long it'll take us to get to Hannu, and we can't turn back..." "We can't just leave it here to die!" Scully exclaimed. "Maybe we're supposed to," Shannon broke in. Scully and Mulder turned, startled, and she shrugged. "Look, the only people who could even get on this path are trying to see this Hannu guy, right? So maybe this was one of the ones who failed, and so he's got to pay for it." Mulder frowned, his face hardening. He didn't like that thought at all. "I can't believe that a good Mage would kill just because someone failed some kind of test. Send him back to Treetops, yes, but not just let him die alone and abandoned." "Well, maybe it was an accident, a woodscat or something," Jhorgab said, staring around him wide-eyed. "Goodness knows what's living in these woods. At home we have these..." "It doesn't matter," Shannon interrupted. "We've already lost some time just stopping here and we haven't even hit the first test yet, whatever it is." Mulder's eyes narrowed, but he had to agree. He gazed sadly at Scully. "She's right about that, we need to get moving as quickly as possible." Scully glared back at him. //We can't just leave him here, Mulder!\\ Her outrage echoed in his mind, making him wince. He nodded slowly, studying the unconscious Rax carefully. //I know, but I'm not sure there's much of an alternative....\\ Then verbally, "Do you think we could carry him with us? We could make a litter of some kind, or I could levitate him and let him be pulled by one of the horses." Scully looked thoughtful for a moment, then closed her eyes and held out her hands over the body. Mulder could feel her healing senses stir to life, feel the energy surge down her arms and out to touch the wounded Rax. She held still for a moment, then withdrew, shaking her head slowly. "I don't think he'd survive the trip, Mulder, even if I put him in a stasis spell. He's too weak. If I could heal him some, to give him enough energy to hold in stasis, then maybe..." "All right, how long will that take?" Mulder asked. Scully turned to give him a worried look, leaning back into the strength of his body. "I'm not sure, but in his condition...it will cost us a candlemark at least, maybe longer." Mulder wrapped his arms around her, rubbing his chin against her forehead. //Are you sure he'll die if you don't?\\ //Yes,\\ Scully's response was certain. //I'm sorry, Mulder, but I can't just walk away and leave him to die.\\ He smiled against her. //I know, love.\\ He released her, leaning back on his heels. "All right, we'll just have to spend the time." "But..." Shannon and Jhorgab both sputtered simultaneously, but Mulder silenced them with a wave of his hand. "We can't leave him to die, so we'll have to move a little faster afterwards. Why don't you two start on making a litter for him while Scully works on healing him. As soon as she thinks he's able to be moved, we should be ready to go." Shannon nodded and turned. Jhorgab was slower, his yellow eyes narrowed with distaste as he looked at the Rax. "It wouldn't stop for us," he told Mulder. Mulder ran a hand through his dark hair, the bangs tumbling forward again, undaunted, as soon as his fingers had brushed through them. "Maybe not, but that doesn't mean we have to act like a Rax, Jhorgab." The troll stared at him for a moment, then suddenly grinned. "Ahh, yes, as usual you are right, Mage Mulder. Indeed. We should *not* act like a Rax." Appeased, he hurried off to help Shannon gather branches, both careful to stay on the path. Mulder watched them for a moment, then looked back down at Scully. Her eyes closed, she was dropping slowly, meticulously, into her healing trance. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, letting calm energy flow down their link. Her mind seized on it, drawing on him, letting his power feed her mind as she began to reach out to the wounded Rax laying at her feet. They remained crouched there, both unmoving, breathing in concert, hearts pulsing at the same rate, bodies and minds attuned. Mulder caught only fragments of what Scully was doing, seeing, images flirting with the edges of his awareness. Primarily he felt her focus, the intensity with which she approached the task at hand, the slow meticulous movement of her mind. He had never felt closer to her than in this instant, it seemed, watching her work, feeling her soul leap into the healing process, sensing her exultation at easing pain and sealing wounds. Neither realized how long they had been kneeling there, until her energy waned and the demands of cramped muscles began to scream louder. Scully wavered as her trance began to weaken, and Mulder caught her in his arms, groaning from the backwash of both their discomforts, the numbness in her legs competing with the tight cramp in his. They fell backwards, Scully coming to rest on Mulder's chest. She sighed, wriggling against him, the rush of desire startling her with its intensity, fighting against her exhaustion. Mulder's response to her was instant and obvious, but with a slow, ragged breath, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, pushing her back far enough to look into her eyes. //Are you all right?\\ he asked, shifting his position yet again, stroking the side of her face. She drew in a harsh gulp of air, then nodded. She could feel her cheeks redden under the heat of his gaze, and saw the corners of his full mouth curl upward. "Yes, I'm fine." He grinned unabashedly. "Yes, I'd say you are." She glared at him, only for a moment, then gave him a breathtaking smile. Her blue eyes twinkled before she closed them, again filling her lungs with air. "We'd better get going." Mulder nodded, unable to stifle a slight moan as he fought his way to his feet. Rubbing at his calf with one hand, he offered her the other. She took it willingly, groaning in concert, as her own muscles protested. "I think he'll be all right in stasis for a while, but one way or the other..." her voice stilled as she looked around to find Shannon and Jhorgab staring at them wide-eyed. "What..." Scully began to ask, only to realize that they weren't staring *at* her, they were staring *past* her. "What the hell...." Mulder exclaimed, having turned to look before she did. She swung her head around, and gasped aloud. The wounded Rax was no longer laying on the side of the path. Nothing remained, not so much as one drop of blood or a single strand of orange hair. "Where'd he go?" Scully asked, even though the question sounded foolish in her ears. He couldn't have gone anywhere. She'd put him in a stasis spell, and even so, she'd surely have heard him moving. And... There was a sudden flash of bright light in front of them, and they gasped. A voice boomed out of the air, drilling against their eardrums. "The first test is completed. You may pass." The sound echoed, bell-like, then died out, leaving them standing in abrupt an total silence. Scully felt Mulder's hands enclosing her waist, she leaned back against him instinctively, her mind wandering, stunned. It was Shannon who broke the quiet, her voice surprisingly thin, weedlike. "Test? What test?" Nothing answered. Mulder rested his chin on Scully's head for a moment, then finally answered, philosophically. "I guess we were supposed to stop and help him after all." Scully suddenly found herself smiling. "Creve did say our hearts would be tested, maybe this was what he meant?" She sighed. //I wish Daanna had been able to give us a better sense of what the tests were going to be.\\ She knew it was a lot to ask of a young child, but so much was depending on their success here, and she felt like they were walking in the dark. Mulder pursed his lips thoughtfully. His mind proffered reassurance, even as he replied to her audible question. "Perhaps, but regardless, there are still two more tests to pass. And we've lost some time. Better get moving." There was little more conversation as they mounted their horses and urged the animals down the path. The first test had taken them by surprise. Who knew what lay ahead? - - - - - They ate a quick lunch without stopping, chewing on bread and cheese as they rode as swiftly as they dared. Without knowing what might happen next, they couldn't afford to move too fast, and yet, they needed to make up the time they had lost on that first test. Scully was still worn out from the healing process, and being forced to ride hard after such an expenditure of personal energy was obviously taking its toll on the auburn-haired woman. At times she had to fight to stay upright in her saddle, though she covered as well as she could. Not that Mulder didn't notice instantly, his eyes stayed more with her than with the road ahead. Knowing that he didn't dare call a halt now, Mulder unobtrusively tried to give Scully as much energy as he could, feeding it gently down the lifebond, but it did not take her long to realize what he was doing. //Mulder!\\ she chided him when she realized where her second wind was coming from. She glared at him, but he only smiled sweetly at her. //We can't have you falling out of your saddle in exhaustion. There's no time to stop, so relax and let me help you.\\ //And what if we need you at full strength to pass one of the tests?\\ //I'll manage. This isn't taking much from me. God knows I've got more power than I know what to do with. That's not a problem.\\ Memories flickered in his mind, the ground splitting at his feet, lightning bolts sizzling as they struck, sending villagers scurrying back in sheer terror. Fawnleaf. And then an image from Coldshores, power tingling across every nerve in his body, raging, then releasing, burning as it struck the huddled youths, flashing, then dissolving to leave squalling animals where they had stood. The fear on people's faces... //Mulder!\\ Scully broke in swiftly. //Stop it! It's not your fault and you didn't hurt anyone. You wouldn't.\\ The air crackled around them, surging to whip at their hair and clothes. Bird calls silenced, the entire forest seeming to freeze in anticipation. One of the horses whinnied high, frightened, and Scully grabbed for Mulder's hand. Their skin contacted with a visible flash of blue light, jolting Mulder to awareness. //Shield yourself!\\ Scully demanded and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes, holding tight to the reins to keep the terrified animal under control. Just as suddenly as the world had begun to rage, it stilled. The air settled peacefully around them, the dim light seemed to brighten, sounds began again to filter from the forest, bird calls trilling above their heads. "Mage Mulder, what happened?" Jhorgab yelled out, his eyebrows crawling high above widened eyes. Shannon was already at almost at his side, squeezing her horse in next to his, despite its protests. "Mulder?" she reached out to tug at his sleeve. His eyes were almost a pure ebony when they turned to focus on her face, his face drawn taut, muscles tensing in his jaw, the pulse throbbing in his temples. "Are you okay?" He breathed long and deep before trusting himself to reply. "Yes...I'm all right." He turned to Scully, squeezing her hand. "I'm fine." //Thanks, love,\\ he added silently. She offered him a reassuring smile, holding tight to his hand. He returned the smile, then looked back to Shannon who was watching him anxiously. "Really, I'm *fine.* Just some...bad memories." Shannon nodded, though her gaze was still worried. She looked over to Scully and the other woman nodded. Accepting that Scully knew her bondmate better than anyone, Shannon eased her horse back to ride beside Jhorgab again, and they continued on in silence. - - - - - Mulder's horse reared back, startling him. Crying out in surprise, he fought to regain control. No sooner than his horse had reacted, Scully's did the same, nearly tumbling her from the saddle. Jhorgab and Shannon drew up to a fast halt, calling out in concern. It took a few minutes for Mulder and Scully to get their horses under control. When the animals were finally still, both turned to peer ahead of them down the path. "I don't see anything," Scully said, squinting into the darkness. Mulder's ball of light was floating directly above his head, and he leaned back to look up in its direction. With a quick, muttered instruction, he sent it rolling ahead, but it went no more than a few feet before it bounced back in his direction. Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance, then Scully drew her sword. Turning her horse sideways, she maneuvered the blade forward, more and more, until.... She gasped as the blade struck hard on thin air, the impact reverberating up her arm. She pulled back, then warily pushed the sword forward again, again feeling, rather than seeing, it strike some kind of barrier. "There's something there, Mulder, but I can't see it." Mulder leapt down from his horse, drawing his own sword. Holding it before him, both hands wrapped around the ornate hilt, he repeated Scully's probe, gasping as his blade also met an invisible barrier. Resheathing the sword, he stretched out a hand towards it, eliciting a warning cry from Scully. "Mulder, don't...." But she was too late, his hand was already colliding with the barrier. At his touch it flared to visible life, a violent yellow gleam spreading like wildfire from the point of contact with his hand. The horses reared again, whinnying, while Mulder jerked back, speechless, as the circle of shimmering light grew until it formed a glowing sheet across the path, rising up, reaching out, until it melded into the forest and treetops. "Looks like we found the second test," Mulder said wryly, staring up at it with pure amazement writ large on his face. Scully slid off her horse and joined him, followed quickly by Shannon and Jhorgab. "The question is," she asked, stretching a hand towards it, though not quite touching the sheet of light, "how do we get past it?" "Is it solid?" Shannon asked, her amber eyes bright with curiosity. She stepped forward, only to be held back firmly by Jhorgab. "Don't touch it!" he cried out. "You don't know what it could do!" Mulder shook his head, reaching out to poke at it again. "No, it won't hurt you, but it is solid." His fingers probed at it, sending off blue sparks, and it yielded slightly to his touch. Yielded, but did not give way. He was able to bend it just a little, but then it pushed back, almost elastic, reforming as though he had not made it pucker at all. He tried again, and found it harder this time. He pushed with more force, and it gave way, only to snap back with more solidity. He withdrew his hand and focused his Mage-energy instead. He made a soft probe and it began to give way, so he pushed harder, and suddenly it became more resistant. Gritting his teeth, he pushed even harder, letting the power coil through him and down his arm, pulsing out from his extended fingers. Blue flame hit the wall, and was absorbed into it. The harder he pushed, the stronger the wall seemed to become. "Mulder?" Scully questioned, concerned, but he was getting frustrated. Reaching out a second hand, he pointed fiercely at the glowing wall, power surging through him, crackling across his skin. Thunder sounded, sharp and sudden, the ground shook beneath their feet. Scully cried out, feeling the backwash of the power through their lifebond, sensing its rise, like a mighty waterfall, coursing through every vein and nerve in Mulder's body, building in tension, until it released in a massive flood, arcing from his fingertips to strike the wall with an incredible force. The wall shook, trembled, flickered for a moment, then blazed back to life, sucking up the power Mulder threw in its direction. Scully saw him begin to shake and she reached for him, screaming out his name. Contact with her broke through to him yet again, and he collapsed into her arms, sagging to his knees. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, supporting him as he fought for his breath. Shannon broke forward to help Scully with Mulder, and together, they lifted him to his feet. One arm resting around each of their shoulders, Mulder eyed the wall with frustration. His voice came out harsh, ragged, whistling through his throat. "Somehow it absorbs energy. The harder I push the stronger it seems to get." He frowned, his mind racing. There *had* to be a way to break through it.... Shannon reached out her left hand to poke at the wall gently and it gave way softly. She pressed harder, and it suddenly pushed back at her hand, forcing her to withdraw with a gasp of pain. "Don't..." Scully warned, but Mulder abruptly pulled himself free of them both. Stepping up so close to the wall that he could practically see his breath touch it, he repeated Shannon's gesture, poking softly at the wall. It gave way again until he shoved at it with his palm. It coalesced against his blow, resisting solidly. He poked again, it gave way, he pushed, it resisted. He stepped back. Scully was instantly at his side. Mulder looked down into her anxious face, his eyes gleaming like emeralds. //I know that look...\\ she told him, a slight touch of humor returning. //You've got an idea.\\ He simply nodded, wrapped his arms around her and gave her a quick hug. Then releasing her, he turned and gathered Shannon and Jhorgab closer with a glance. "I think I know how to get through this thing, so I need you to be ready. Gather the horses together and when I tell you, draw them through as quickly as you can. I don't know how long I can hold it, so don't waste any time. Scully, you go with them..." "No way!" she replied firmly. "You know what happens when we get separated. If we ended up on opposite sides of that thing and it closes back up, it might kill us both. Or at least put us both out of commission. I stay with you." Mulder sighed, but had to admit she was right. He swallowed, took a deep breath, then nodded. "All right. Scully stays with me, you two get the horses and yourselves through as soon as I give the word." Shannon and Jhorgab nodded, both of their faces tight with anxiety, then they moved to gather the horses together, each holding reins for two of the uneasy animals. Mulder stepped to the side, Scully staying close to him. He took her hand, then closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Slowly, a small dark circle appeared in the center of the wall. The dark spot grew barely an inch at a time, spreading outward and downward. Mulder's eyes flew open, and his fingers clenched painfully on Scully's. His concentration throbbed in his temples, hardened in his jaw. She could feel his teeth clash against each other as he focused. The dark spot grew gradually, little-by-little, until it formed a rough half-circle against the ground. Mulder's voice issued through gritted teeth, harsh and low. "Go now! Go!" Bolting into action, Jhorgab and Shannon hurried forward, tugging hard on the recalcitrant animals. With some swearing, and a few well-placed kicks, the animals finally jerked forward. Shannon went through first, dragging her horse and Scully's with her. The animals jockeyed for position, obviously terrified of contact with the shimmering barrier. Mulder was still concentrating, widening the gap a spare finger's length at a time. Once Shannon was through, Jhorgab followed, his two horses shooting through to follow the others, whinnying and stamping their feet when they got through to the other side. Never releasing his concentration, Mulder sent Scully a quick image of the two of them darting through the gradually widening hole. She responded with silent assent, and together they moved until they were facing the center of the gap. Moving in perfect symmetry, they dove for the opening, rolling through it, hitting the ground on the other side with jarring impact. No sooner than they had landed, sprawled beside each other on the rough earthen path, the barrier whooshed down to refill the hole, closing them off. "Mulder, Scully, are you all right?" Shannon ran to them, kneeling down to help Scully sit up. Jhorgab followed, chattering nearly senselessly, tugging Mulder up into a sitting position. No sooner than they had caught their breaths, than the glow of the barrier faded and blinked out, leaving no sign it had been there at all. And again a voice boomed out of the air. "The second test is completed. You may pass." - - - - - The forest seemed endless. They rode for what felt like candlemarks, back on that treadmill of brown earth winding between walls of green vegetation. Nerves began to fray, as the anticipation of the final test continued to build. "Do you think we've run out of time?" Shannon broke the silence, staring up at the canopy of trees above their heads. Mulder shook his head. "No, not yet. It's not sunset yet." "How can you tell?" Scully asked, pursing her lips as she stared around them, taking in the dim glow of Mulder's Mage-light as it bounced along before them. "For all we know it could be the middle of the night." "No, it's nearing dusk," Jhorgab said with absolute certainty. The others turned to look at him, and he grinned unabashedly. Rubbing his belly, he sighed. "It's getting close to dinner time. I can always tell." Shannon grinned while Mulder and Scully chuckled. "Now that I'd bet a year's salary on," Mulder replied, before gazing ahead of him with narrowed eyes. "Which means that the third test has to be coming up soon." "I do wish it would hurry up..." Shannon said plaintively. "He's not the only one getting hungry..." Her voice broke off suddenly, and she swiveled in her saddle towards the forest wall. "What is it?" Scully asked, only to sit up straight herself. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus in on the source of the sound. She reined her horse in, feeling Mulder do the same by her side. Again it sounded, softly, like a whisper in the wind. Her name..."Daaannnaaaa," it pleaded. "Mulder, can you hear that?" Scully asked, her entire body tensing. That voice...it couldn't be! And yet, there it was again, louder now, stronger. "Daaannnaaa!" Repeating over and over again, tearing at her senses, tugging at her memories. It couldn't be, and yet... "Daddy?" she whispered. The voice called to her again, and she responded more strongly, crying out into the dense trees, desperately, fearfully, "DADDY!!!" Mulder could faintly hear Scully calling something out, but it didn't make sense. A mischievous breeze played with his hair, tangling with the edges of his cloak, carrying with it a familiar tinkling sound. The high-pitched giggling laughter of a young girl. "Fox," the air murmured into his ears. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Come play with me, Foxy..." His heart leapt, his body tensed, his mind swirled. Leaning his head back to scream at the unseen sky, he cried, as he had done so often before...."SAMANTHA!!" The sobbing tore at her heart. Shannon's entire body shook with the anguish of it. The cries rose up into a piercing shriek, then tumbled downward into a harsh groan of agony. Again and again it pounded at her senses, and she struggled desperately to distinguish something sensible from the cries. There, that was her name, she could hear it more clearly now, calling to her. "Shannon...Shannon...Shannon..." Shannon's stomach rose to sit in the base of her throat. No. Dear God, it couldn't be. But the voice came incessantly, pounding at her with its need, its terrible pleading, forcing her blood to pulse with guilt. "Mom?" she whispered. The voice sang out in reply, endlessly sobbing her name, and this time Shannon met it equally, "MOMMY!!!" Jhorgab's ears pricked, and he found himself turning towards the forest edge. His blood ran cold, his skin crawled. Sound beat at the edges of his awareness, slowly coalescing into a twinned cry, two voices, one growling deep, the other sliding high, both calling his name. Voices he hadn't heard since he was barely old enough to walk, voices he was sure he would never hear again. But they were there, calling for him, begging for him to come to them. His hands clenched on his reins, as his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. There, an opening between the trees, and through it, a faint gleam of light. Two figures standing there, one large, the other small, hands outstretched towards him. "Mother, Father?" he whispered, and their voices rose sharp in the wind, drawing on him. Tears stung his eyes, dripping down his coarse, green cheeks, and his voice rose to twine with theirs... "MOTHER, FATHER!!!" Mulder could see her now, a dark figure encased in a field of light, floating gently above the ground. Her hand was outstretched towards him, her dark hair floated around her like an ebony cloak. "Fox," she called out, and he dropped the reins, tensing his body to leap to the ground and go to her. He wouldn't lose her this time, not again. He wouldn't fail her yet again... Again. How many times had he been fooled? How many times had he heard and seen her when it wasn't real? But she was calling to him. This could be her. It *was* her. His Samantha, his little sister, lost and finally found again.... Found again? "No!" he screamed aloud in soul-deep anguish. He covered his ears, a moaning sob escaping his lips. It couldn't be her here. It wasn't possible. But her voice kept coming, even through the palms clamped down over his ears, echoing in the far corners of his mind. "Samantha!" he called again, his eyes squinting as he tried to see, then closing shut in agony. She seemed so *real*. It had to be, he wanted it to be so badly that his entire body ached with the need. But then, he heard an ancient echo in his mind, Scully's voice, challenging him, warning him.... "You believe so deeply that sometimes it's blinding, Mulder...I can respect your passion...but others will use it against you.... The truth is out there, Mulder...but so are lies..." "Nooo!" he screamed, "No! Not again." Squeezing his eyes shut, he reached out instead with his Mage-sight, focusing his power towards the source of that childish voice, trying to *see* the reality of what was there - and finding...nothing. His eyes jerked open, and he saw the figure again, hair whipping around her small body, her hand outstretched towards him. But this time, she was pale and faint, a ghostly shadow of reality. "Samantha..." he sobbed, heartbroken, knowing that this was yet another lie, still wishing with every fiber of his being that he was wrong. That somehow she was there, she was real, and he had found her at last. It wasn't so. It was an illusion, and Fox Mulder had been tricked one time too many. His obsession to find his missing sister never wavered, never lessened, but he'd learned through pain and heartache, loss and devastation, not to accept the appearance over the reality. Closing his eyes, struggling to ignore the voice that tore at his heart and soul, he fought to find his balance. When he opened his eyes again, the image was gone, though the voice still tore at his ears. Then yet another sound broke through his concentration, Scully's voice screaming. "Scully!" he yelled out, finding her staring off into the forest, her entire body tensed into ramrod stiffness. But her voice was filled with a poignantly familiar anguish, and the word she cried stole his breath away. "Daddy!" she sobbed over and over. Releasing her reins, she poised herself to leap off her horse, and realization struck him like a blow in the groin. "No, Scully!!" Mulder grabbed for her, restraining her from getting off her horse, and she turned blindly to strike at him. "No, Scully, it's not real!!" he shouted, trapping her hands in his and pouring his awareness down their lifebond. Her mind was in turmoil, lost in a sea of pain. //No, Mulder, it's my father! He needs me! Let me go!\\ //NO!\\ He was adamant, shouting into her mind. //It's an illusion, Scully. Your father's dead!\\ How he hated saying that to her; how deeply her responding horror beat at his senses. But he held on tightly to her, offering her all the love in the universe, all the caring comfort he could ever offer. //I know you want it to be real, but it's not. Scully, it's not real!\\ She broke into open sobs at the certainty in his mind, and he cradled her as best he could. Somehow reaching her had silenced the voice calling on him, and as hers also stilled, he suddenly heard two more voices crying out in pain. "Shannon...Jhorgab," he breathed, turning to look. Shannon was staring wild-eyed into the forest, and Jhorgab had gone a gray dusky color, his skin bleached nearly as pale as a gargoyle. Forcing Scully to look around, he shouted in her ear. "We've got to get them moving away from here. If they go into the forest, they'll get lost. We're being tricked." Tearstained, still sobbing softly, Scully managed to blink her understanding. He hugged her, then released her, turning his horse to grab for Shannon's abandoned reins. Urging her horse forward, he saw Scully doing the same for Jhorgab, steadying the young troll in his saddle as she pushed their horses into a slow trot. Mulder let them go first, then followed, guiding his horse with his tightly clamped knees, one hand on Shannon's reins the other holding her upright. The next part of the journey was cold and desperate, the wind chilling as it bit at his face, the echoes of voices in the air dragging on him as he forced them onward. Finally, they broke through into a clearing, the road ending at the edge of a small meadow, circular and surrounded by a ring of massive trees. The sense of urgency fled, abruptly, leaving pure exhaustion in its wake. Mulder tumbled from his horse, then ran to catch Shannon as she slid down, nearly senseless into his arms. He half-carried her over to where Scully was settling a trembling Jhorgab down on the grass, then eased down beside the troll. Dropping to his knees, he opened his arms to Scully and she came running into his embrace, nearly knocking him over backwards with the force of her need. He closed his arms around her, and they dropped to lie entangled in the sweet-smelling grass. Time passed, none of them would ever know how long, but the sun stroked them with its warmth, until it began to ease its way downward. The horses grazed happily, and Mulder came to awareness slowly. Sighing, he nuzzled Scully's neck tenderly, eliciting a soft groan of appreciation. She wriggled in his arms, then lifted her head to meet his eyes. "What happened?" she asked, still dazed, her eyes hooded and puffy with weeping. Mulder stroked her hair gently. "I think we just went through the last test, but I'm not sure if we passed or failed." "You passed," an unfamiliar voice interrupted. Mulder and Scully jerked upwards to a sitting position, staring wide-eyed at the figure of a man standing not more than four feet away. "Who are you?" Scully asked, swiping the bright strands of hair out of her eyes. The man sighed, shaking his head. "Who do you think? You came to find me, didn't you? "I am Hannu." End Chapter Sixteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Seventeen So - they had succeeded. Her worst fears had been realized. That moronic rodent had failed her miserably. With an effort she quelled the anger, the frustration. She could not afford to squander the energy she would soon require in such abundance. The Dark Queen sat in her monstrous armchair, feet resting on the footstool in front of her, and willed herself to relax. Two Blue Mages, now in concert. She could hope that the older one would not reveal what he knew, would not unravel the ties that bound the secret to her possible destruction. She could hope. But she was not one to trust in fortune, which had deserted her so often in her life. More importantly than hope, she would plan. She allowed her mind to drift, the thoughts washing over her. The troll was a nothing, a nonentity she could dispose of with a simple spell, perhaps even a thought. The girl - now, she was intriguing, a pretty thing with something about her that commanded respect. But in the end, also easily destroyed. The woman who also dressed as a warrior. The Dark Queen's eyes narrowed. What was her business in this? Never far from the side of the Mage, who seemed to treat her as an equal, the few times she had observed them. Interesting. Her brows furrowed in thought. No, more disturbing than interesting. A puzzle. She sighed impatiently. She was uncomfortable with puzzles. She fully appreciated that knowledge of her enemy was the key to success. Puzzles represented the unknown, and as such, were to be feared. Up until this point, she had been sparing in her use of the sphere to track the travelers. That was a mistake, she now admitted to herself. Although using the sphere to promote the hatred and bloodshed she craved had been rewarding, now it seemed that some of that time would have been better spent in discovering the answers she lacked. For the first time, she regretted her inability to read auras. True, the young Mage's aura would have been visible to a blind man, especially when he was using his impressive powers. But the auras of the others remained a mystery to her. She shifted in her seat, feeling the frustration rise once again. She would have been better off abducting an elf - at least that miserable sort of being would have been useful. Her plan to use the fool Drellor had failed totally. In the beginning it had seemed that he would be the perfect stooge, a fount of valuable information. A dried-up fount, as it turned out, she thought darkly. Her lips curled in contempt. Spiriting that spineless imbecile from his cell had been a complete waste of effort. Then her mouth drew back in a feral smile. No, he would yet serve a purpose, she promised herself with a shiver of anticipation. She did not hunger, which served her well. The violence, once started, fed both itself and her. None of her precious energy had to be diverted merely to satisfy her craving for spilled blood. Just as well. Every bit of her strength would be needed later if she were to fulfill her dream of vengeance. And fulfill it she would. But now to regain her concentration, to rid herself of this nagging, distracting sense of frustration, preferably with as little expenditure of energy as possible. She did not dare to take her mood out on the Mage and his party - not now, not yet. But she wanted her enemies to hurt, just as she had been hurt. In the fullness of time, they would surely suffer as no beings had ever suffered before them. But what to do now to cheer herself, to relieve the stress, so she could devote herself to planning? Idly, she prodded the hematite sphere with a scarlet-taloned finger and a smile slowly curved the edges of her mouth. How were things back at Fairwoods? Certainly she must be able to find some way to reach the catharsis she hungered for. Using a minimum of energy, she cupped the sphere in her palms and muttered the words which would bring her vision. As the images coalesced in her mind, she rapidly scanned those who were most closely allied with this Mage Mulder. Reinald...no, he would require far too much energy. So would the Captain of the Guard and his half-breed wife. Their child - an involuntary shudder shook through the Dark Queen. There was something strange, frightening, powerful about that child. Another puzzle. In the tiny form was a force which must be converted to her side. Or eliminated. She made a mental note. Once she took over and Fairwoods lay in smoking ruins, the child would either follow her or be destroyed. She continued to scan, her scarlet-flecked eyes lighting up as she saw an opportunity. The old healer. There was only a candle's worth of strength there. So easy to extinguish, scarcely an effort at all. She smiled broadly. The grief of her enemies was almost as sweet a dish as bloodshed. She would have her revenge after all. - - - - - "That's it - just one more spoonful," coaxed Kyla. Corvay grimaced, but did as he was bidden and swallowed the broth. "I don't know why you're bothering. We both know I'm dying." "You seem stronger the last couple of days, Healer. And you have much more to teach me. You can't die yet. I won't let you." She turned quickly, less to clear up the remains of the meal than to hide her tear-filled eyes. "Just like a woman," grumbled Corvay, settling back onto the pillow. He knew that any strength perceived had merely been wishful thinking on Kyla's part. Ah, she was a good child - cursed good healer, too. But he was tired, useless, too weak to practice his art. The Next World was waiting, and he was ready. "Would you like me to read to you, Healer, before your last treatment for the night?" Once again, Kyla had regained her apparent serenity. "No, Healer Kyla.... I just want to sleep." Shivering a little, his frail fingers plucked ineffectively at the covers. She leaned over and drew the bedclothes up to his chin. "Not before your treatment, Healer," she said kindly but firmly. He sighed, not having the strength to argue the point. "Very well...." He knew time was short for him, and there were some things he wanted said before his Last Journey. This quiet time with just the two of them seemed like the perfect opportunity. Hesitantly, his voice creaked, "You know, Kyla, I'm very proud of you.... Of all my apprentices, you have learned the most... and served me the best.... I have recommended that Andalor appoint you Court Healer when I am gone." At her exclamation of protest, he shook his head weakly. "It is done. Young Andalor will soon have a wife.... Soon after, children, Goddess be willing.... I can think of no one better to see to the Royal Family's needs...." Tears glistening in her eyes, Kyla whispered, "None of that now, Healer. With some rest and enough healing, you can care for them yourself." Corvay's lips twitched into a tiny smile. "We both know that's not true, child.... Very well, get on with your treatment," he said, knowing it would do more to soothe her mind than to halt the process that was inexorably drawing his life to a close. She placed cool fingers to his temples as he closed his eyes. Entering his body and mind as a healer, she saw that he was correct. It was a matter of days now. She eased his discomfort as best she could and was preparing to withdraw when suddenly something felt...wrong. This was not the normal process of death; this was different. She looked into the frail form, trying desperately to find the source. She was met with a sensation of blackness, of void, of vacuum, coming not from within the tired body of the healer, but from without. The suffocating blackness was a living presence, forcing its way into the old being, choking, crushing. Gasping, she tried to fight it, to banish it from the body and mind of the old healer. But he was too worn to struggle for life, and his chest rose no more. Grief-stricken, she tried to withdraw from the lifeless form, but the blackness was too strong, sucking at her own life-force now. Somewhere far in the distance she heard a knocking sound. She opened her mouth to call for help, but no sound emerged. Further and further she felt herself being drawn into the blackness, into the void, and away from all that was clean and good and bright. She collapsed to her knees, eyes squeezed shut, lungs fighting for air. - - - - - He stood, puzzled, at the door. Surely Kyla and the Royal Healer were inside, he could hear noises. Perhaps Kyla was in the middle of a healing treatment and could not answer. She would not mind if... Tentatively, Pitir pressed the latch and swung the door open. His eyes widened in horror. "Kyla! Goddess, no!" He turned his head and yelled out into the courtyard. "Guards! Bring help, bring Mage Reinald!" Heart pounding, he darted into the cottage to the healer's side, and pulled her hands from Corvay's body. Senseless, Kyla sank to the floor, her head cradled in Pitir's arms. Moments later, Jourdain and Aldara rushed into the little cottage, followed by Reinald a few moments later. A cluster of guards stood outside, awaiting orders. The Mage recoiled at the stench of the Black Arts, which filled the room. "What happened?" he demanded. Pitir looked up from Kyla's inert form, stunned. "Mage, I was coming to check on Healer Corvay as you instructed. There was no answer to my knock, but I heard strange noises from inside, so I opened the door. Kyla was collapsed over the healer, her hands still placed as if for a healing treatment, but it was as if she were frozen there. It took all my strength to pull her hands away." He hesitated, then said, "Mage, Healer Corvay has gone on to the Next World." Reinald approached the still form of his friend, laying his hand briefly on the old healer's head, squeezing back the tears that threatened to fall. He offered up a prayer to the Goddess to look after the feisty elf in the Next World, then let his hand fall limply to his side. In a tight voice, he said, "Healer Corvay was murdered." His words rocked his friends, assembled in the tiny room. "What? Surely you're not suggesting that Kyla-" began Jourdain, horrified. The Mage shook his head wearily. "No, of course not." He reached for a nearby armchair and lowered himself heavily into it. "Black magic has been at work here. It has stolen our trusted friend away from us. And if Kyla was in a healing trance with him when it happened, I know not what its effects on her might be." Pitir smoothed the heavy flaxen hair back from Kyla's pale, still face. She felt cold to his touch. "Mage Reinald, perhaps if we could get her comfortable, warm her...." "Yes, yes by all means. Bring her into the keep, where she may be attended to closely. Put her in Shannon's room for now." He stopped, gazing at the empty shell who had been his friend, who had been such a force in life. "Don't worry, Reinald. I'll prepare him myself," said Aldara gently. Corvay's body would have to be washed and shrouded in a precise manner according to ancient custom before the funeral took place. Reinald nodded mutely, but his eyes reflected gratitude. Aldara would perform the ritual with the love and respect that Corvay had earned. Guards were summoned to carry Kyla's limp form across the courtyard to the keep, closely followed by an anxious Pitir. The Mage stood and looked towards the door. "Jourdain, we'll meet in my chambers in a candlemark. I need...some time alone right now." The grizzled warrior looked with sympathy and affection on his friend, and followed him out of the little cottage, leaving Aldara to her task. - - - - - A candlemark later, a solemn assemblage sat beside Reinald's hearth, chilled in a way no fire could warm. Tarnor and the Professor had joined the group who came from the cottage. Aldara was the last to arrive. "Corvay has been prepared for the Last Journey, Mage. The High Priestess, Anatha, herself, assisted me! She stands watch over him, praying to the Goddess for his safe passage into the Next World." "His pyre is being constructed by my guards, overseen by another priestess," added Jourdain. "All will be ready for the Leaving Ceremony tomorrow." "Thank you, my friends," Reinald said quietly. "It appears the only comfort we have now is in honoring the memory of the Court Healer, performing the rituals.... But little comfort it is." Aldara nodded. "How's Kyla?" "Healer Sirisa is with her now," replied Pitir. "She says that Kyla's life-force is dangerously low, but she has no idea what caused it." The Mage-apprentice sadly returned to making tea. Kyla was his only real friend, and the object of a powerful adolescent crush. Her collapse was hitting the little troll very hard. "Reinald, I know now may not seem like the time to discuss this. But I would not be doing my job if I didn't tell you that Corvay's murder has me very disturbed," Jourdain said, frowning into his tea mug. "Not only because we have lost our friend, but because of what you discerned in his cottage." "Black magic?" He nodded. "Reinald, think about it. If a Black Mage can reach in and take our friend from our midst, how safe is any one of us?" The enormity of the problem came to the Mage in a flash of recognition. "By the Goddess, you're right, Jourdain," he breathed, shaken. "My emotions about Corvay's death must have blinded me. The king - he above all must be protected!" "As if things aren't in a big enough mess right now, with villagers at each other's throats, and the Royal Houses stirring up trouble.... Now this." Tarnor shook his large gray head, the leathery skin of his brow furrowing. "Reinald, there must be something we can do. What about communicating with Mulder and Scully through the Oracle Cloud?" Reinald sighed. "I thought of that. But to what purpose? Telling them of our friend's passing will just upset them, especially Warrior Healer Scully. And when Mage Mulder learns of the cause...." He shook his head, his white hair and beard bobbing. "No, I dare not distract them right now. They are very headstrong and courageous, perhaps too much so. Especially Mulder, who tends to act as much based on his heart as on his head at times. If they feel our urgency, they may take too great a risk and put themselves in greater danger. We can only hope that they are nearing their objective, that they are close to finding Hannu and are pursuing the answers we need. If things become worse, we will contact them. For now, I would prefer to wait." "I agree," said the Professor grimly. "And if they haven't reached Hannu, there isn't much they'll be able to do about our situation anyway. The trip back to Fairwoods would take too long." Neumann smiled sadly. "Also, I must say, I really don't have the heart to hear if they have not reached their objective. Or worse, if they have evidence that Hannu not longer exists. My hope in them and their mission is all that keeps this situation from being intolerable." "Aye, there's that," Jourdain replied, heavily. "All right, what can we do to protect ourselves from an unseen enemy who appears to have unlimited power?" He glanced over at Reinald, who appeared deep in thought, staring into the distance. Then the Mage shook himself, and looked at his companions with a new sense of purpose. "Tarnor, what are your plans for the next several days?" Reinald asked, tension plain in his voice. "I'm at your disposal, of course, Mage. You have an idea?" "I can't do it alone. In fact, I'm not certain I can do it at all," he said with an apologetic smile. "What I propose is trying to construct a shield for the keep. This has never been done, but I think, theoretically, it can be. An extension of the personal protection spell," he explained to Tarnor. "It would have to be renewed frequently, and would take an enormous amount of power." Tarnor looked the Mage directly in the eyes. For several moments, there seemed to be a silent conversation that took place between them. "Yes, I see," he said slowly. "We would have to move everyone we could into the castle." Reinald agreed. "Jourdain, I want you and Aldara and your daughter to move in immediately. Make arrangements for Lord Mandor and his family also - we can't have the future queen's parents targeted by our enemy. They can join Livirnea in the quarters she has been using. Handpick your best guards and have them take positions in and around the keep. The security of the king must be the first priority. The Realm is hanging by a thread, and only Andalor's presence is preventing a total collapse into anarchy and chaos." "You are no less important, Reinald," Aldara stated firmly. "If anything happens to you, we lose what protection we have." "We will cast the spell in the king's quarters. Its effects will be strongest there. Aldara, find quarters for your family near his, which will afford the most protection. Your daughter must also be guarded closely. She seems to have more insight into our enemy - this "dark lady" of her dreams - than anyone at the moment. Have beds moved into reception rooms if necessary. And don't worry, Aldara, my quarters will also have sufficient protection," Reinald said. "This may not work; even if it does, it may not be strong enough to withstand a concerted effort against us by our enemy. But it's the only thing we can do until we hear from Mulder and Scully." Jourdain and Aldara stood. "We'll see to it right away, Mage Reinald." The door shut behind them. "If I can be of any help...?" Professor Neumann offered. "Just like old times, eh?" smiled Reinald. "Thank you, Gunther. I'd like you to work with Tarnor and myself. We will need to find a way to enhance the protection spell to cover more area and more beings than it was ever meant to cover. Between your science and our magic, we may find a way to keep everyone safe for now. Pitir, help the Professor bring any equipment he needs here." The tall, gaunt human and the stocky troll left on their errand. The two Mages surveyed each other quietly. Finally, Reinald said, "I appreciate your not being your usual candid self with our friends. I hesitate even to ask you to help with this - you know what it could mean better than anyone else." "I understand, Reinald. We will be using an untested spell of enormous power. The danger to the both of us is obvious, the risk of failure is too high, the chance of success lower than we would choose. At best, it will leave both of us seriously drained." His mouth opened into a pointy-toothed grin. "When do we start?" Reinald looked with affection at the gargoyle. "Again you prove your seemingly limitless courage." Tarnor laughed, and waved dismissively. "Or foolhardiness. But have we really any choice? What's our alternative - to sit here as a Black Mage picks us off, one by one? And turns our land into a battlefield? No. 'No way,' as Andalor would say. Reinald, we can only hope that Mulder and Scully complete their mission successfully, and work as hard as we can to keep everything safe until they return." The older Mage nodded. "But unless the Professor can come up with a miracle, even if the spell works we will not be able to sustain it for more than a week or so. We could be more than 'seriously drained' by this, Tarnor." He looked at the gargoyle meaningfully. "I know," he said softly. "So be it." - - - - - Andalor stopped abruptly in the hall. He had been on the battlements, looking out on his troubled kingdom and wishing the one person who could make him feel better were by his side. Finally, after staring out over the darkened forest and sleeping village for more than a candlemark, he sighed and descended the winding stone staircase. He was on his way to Reinald's quarters when he heard noises coming from Shannon's chamber. Heart pounding, feeling a lightening of his mood, he tapped and pushed open the heavy wooden door in the same movement. "Shannon! You're ba-" The king stopped dead. A troubled, middle-aged woman in the brown robes of a healer stood next to the high Realm bed. His chest constricted painfully. Goddess, something had happened to Shannon! He was halfway across the room before he noticed that the still form in the bed was not the dark-tressed Shannon, but Kyla. He took a moment to compose himself. He had gone from exhilaration to terrible disappointment to terror in the space of a single breath. When he was sure he could trust his voice, he said, "I beg your pardon, Healer Sirisa. I thought for a moment Shannon had returned. But what has happened to Kyla?" The woman merely shook her head slowly. "Your Majesty, I would urge you to see Mage Reinald. There has been...a tragedy." Andalor's violet eyes stared at the woman. Goddess - Mulder and Scully and Shannon! They must have been lost, killed on their journey to save his Realm. Why else would this chamber be used by another? Choking back a sob, he turned and ran blindly from the room, the echo of his pounding feet reverberating through the stone corridors all the way to Reinald's quarters. Pale, sweating, he skidded to a halt as Tarnor was emerging from the Mage's chamber. "Tell me what has happened," he demanded. "I must know!" Tarnor turned questioning eyes to the Mage. Surely Corvay had been beloved, but he had not expected the king to be this distraught by the old healer's death. "Healer Corvay died this night, Andalor. He was killed by the Black Arts. And Kyla has been effected in some way." The young man stared blankly at the gargoyle and his former guardian. "Corvay? Corvay...Kyla... But what about....?" They returned his blank stare. Suddenly he began to tremble and reached out to the doorway to steady himself, his knees weak. "Wait! Your Majesty, what's wrong? Tarnor, help me get him to a chair, I think he's about to faint!" The two Mages half- carried, half-dragged the young man to one of the armchairs by the hearth. Tarnor made up a restorative brew while Reinald fanned the face of the semi-conscious king, feeling helpless. Within moments, the young man's color improved a little and he began to stir. "I'm sorry, Andalor, I had no idea you would take the news of Corvay's death this hard. Granted, we knew life was slowly leaving him, but to have been murdered in this way...." "What?" Patiently, Reinald repeated, "Corvay was murdered. By the same enemy who is turning our beings against one another. And by the same means - black magic. I thought you knew . I thought that was why you were so upset." Reinald took a seat and motioned for Tarnor to do so as well. The young man sat, his mind reeling. "No. No, I didn't know. Healer Sirisa said merely that there had been a tragedy and I needed to see you, but she was in Shannon's room, and Kyla was there, and I thought..." The three sat in stunned silence for several moments. "If you'll excuse me, Reinald, Your Majesty," Tarnor said, rising. "I'll just go...um...help the Professor with his things." He left the two alone for what he knew would be a talk they would prefer to keep private. The old Mage nodded. "Thank you, Tarnor." Turning to the king, he said gently, "You thought Shannon was the one in the bed, that she'd been hurt." "Dead," Andalor replied dully. "I thought she was dead. I thought they all were." His voice caught and he struggled to keep his emotions under some semblance of control. Reinald stood and walked to a window, looking out until the young man had recovered. His back still turned to the king, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Andalor. I knew that you had some feelings for Shannon, but I was hoping this separation would have perhaps caused them to fade. I didn't know they were so strong." The young man laughed bitterly. "Neither did I. I knew I felt something, but.... When I thought she was...gone - Goddess, Reinald, I felt I wanted to die myself!" "Well, rest easy on that score. As far as I know, Shannon is fine. I haven't heard from Mulder so I can only assume things are proceeding as planned." He was silent for several long moments. "Little wonder you resisted the betrothal. I thought you just resented our way of doing things, your duty to the Realm once again interfering with your wishes. I owe you a huge apology, Andalor." He shook his head. "As I said, Reinald, I wasn't sure of how I felt until tonight. And it still doesn't change anything, does it?" "No, I'm afraid not," Reinald replied bleakly. "But two season-cycles is a long time - much may happen." "That's what Livirnea and I are hoping." "Livirnea? She doesn't want to marry you?" The Mage turned, incredulous, and sat again at the king's side. "She doesn't want to marry anyone, not at the moment anyway. She wants to study. By the way, I've been meaning to ask you if we could get the Professor to give her lessons. She's very intelligent, Reinald. I think she would make an excellent scientist someday." He smiled at his former guardian, who stared dejectedly into the fire. "You didn't do as badly as you may think. Livirnea is a wonderful person, and we're becoming good friends. But I will never feel about her as I do about Shannon." "And how does Shannon feel about you?" "I don't know," the king admitted. "I know when we were in Mulder's world, she thought I was a dweeb at first." "Is a 'dweeb' a good thing?" He laughed, his violet eyes sparkling. "No, a 'dweeb' is definitely not a good thing." He sobered. "But just before she left, I think we were starting to connect. Become more than just good friends. Reinald, do you think there's any chance at all?" "As you know, I'm fond of Shannon, I think she's a fine young lady. But regardless of how I feel about her, I doubt if she would ever be acceptable to the Council of Representatives, Andalor. That would take the work of the Goddess herself. Not to mention what Lord Mandor would do in retaliation for spurning his daughter. I don't know. We have to get through the current crisis first." Andalor sighed. "I know. Announcing my betrothal didn't seem to make a bit of difference - everyone is still trying to kill everyone else. And now Corvay - I'm so sorry, Reinald. I know he was your oldest friend." "He's just always been here. Life will be very strange without him." Reinald looked into the fire. "The Leaving Ceremony will be tomorrow. Immediately after, Tarnor and I are going to try to set up a shield that will protect Fairwoods Castle and everyone in it." "Can you do that?" Reinald shrugged. "We have to do something. There's nothing to prevent our enemy from using the Black Arts against any one of us. The casting of the spell will be dangerous and rather exhausting, Andalor. Once the spell is in place, you will not be able to rely on me for advice. Go to Mandor should you need counsel. I trust him." He smiled wryly. "It might be an idea if you keep your feelings about Shannon to yourself, however." The king nodded. "But please be careful, Reinald. I could not bear to lose you." "I'll be careful." For just a moment, an old hand rested on a young one. Then the two troubled men gazed into the fire, guarding their thoughts, their hopes, and their dreams. - - - - - The travelers just stared. Finally, the doubts had been satisfied. Hannu was slightly taller than Mulder. There was not a bit of extra weight on his big frame. His hair, probably once dark, was quite long and almost completely silver. His long beard and luxurious mustache were a salt and pepper color. Unlike the majority of Mages who carried the pallor of working indoors most of the time, he was tanned and appeared to be in robust health. "Mage Hannu, you don't know how good it is to see you," Mulder began, smiling. The Mage nodded shortly. "Leave the horses. I'll have someone come back for them. Follow me. It's still a long walk to the village." He turned and began walking down the narrow path. His tone was distant, almost cold. The bondmates exchanged quizzical glances, then looked encouragingly at Shannon and Jhorgab as they removed their saddlebags from their mounts. "You heard what the man said - let's go," Scully said. "There may even be food in it for you, Jhorgab." She smiled at them, but she was worried. Their greeting was certainly not effusive, and for the first time she wondered if their journey had been in vain. Yes, against all odds, they had found Hannu - but would he help them? They shouldered their belongings, then rushed to catch up with Hannu, following him through the forest along a tortuous maze of trails. Hannu moved quickly, with more grace than would be expected in such a tall, powerfully built man. The woods were filled with birdsong and the rustle of small animals disturbed by their passage. Eventually, the path began to widen, less obstructed with the surrounding underbrush and overhanging tree limbs, worn hard and flat by generations of use. It climbed gradually, then took a hard turn to the right. A clearing came into view, and beyond that, a village. Smoke rose from the chimneys of perhaps two dozen wooden cottages, all with thatched roofs. A few residents were out and about their business, mostly elves, but with an occasional human. There was even one type of being new to the travelers. Hannu came to a stop at last, surveying the quiet, well-ordered village. "This is Montveil," he said in a deep, well-modulated voice, then set off at a slower pace down the slope of the clearing that surrounded the small town. Each being they encountered as they walked along the packed earth of the road called out or waved to Hannu, apparently comfortable in his presence, with none of the awe that powerful Mages usually engendered. Hannu smiled and waved back, sometimes returning their greeting in New Realm or in a language Mulder and Scully didn't recognize. He seemed at home, comfortable, cordial; an altogether different side to the rather remote person who had met them in the forest. He stopped in front of a cottage indistinguishable from the others, aside from the fact it was set slightly apart from its neighbors. A small vegetable garden prospered to one side of the cottage, an herb garden to the other. Hannu opened the heavy wooden door and ushered them inside. "Please have a seat." He started the ubiquitous ritual of making tea. Mulder and Scully chose armchairs placed side by side at right angles to the hearth. Shannon chose one opposite to theirs, and Jhorgab squatted at her feet. Scully looked around the simple room. Gleaming copper pots and pans hung on the stone facade over the fireplace, and handloomed rugs in brilliant colors covered the hardwood floors. The stucco walls were whitewashed, reflecting the light of the fire and the myriad of candles dotted around the room. The huge bookcase that took up the far wall had caught Mulder's notice. Scully smiled. She knew only strict Realm etiquette prevented him from bounding over to check out the titles - that, and the fact that she would have to bound over with him. Throughout their walk through the forest they had maintained physical contact, now finding it nearly impossible to do otherwise. She stroked his arm absently and his hand, laying gently on her knee, returned the gesture. Hannu stole occasional glances at his guests as he went about his task. Strange. Their auras were so strange. An extremely powerful Mage. A woman with a dual aura, warrior and healer, a combination he had never seen before. The two were lifebonded, if the streaks of blue in her aura and the very faint brown-green in his were any indication. Then there was the young, pretty girl, who had such a commanding presence. Her aura contained touches of Mage blue, but of a different tone than Mage Mulder's, swirled in her warrior green aura, another rare combination. Could they be apparitions, phantoms created by his enemy? Surely they had passed the tests, passed them with ease. But his enemy had nearly unlimited power. In spite of all the safeguards, could she have created them or their strange auras to cover the telltale stain of the Black Arts? He passed out the mugs of tea - the invigorating kind - and seated himself in the chair to Shannon's left. Finally, Mulder thought. Maybe now we can start getting some answers. He cleared his throat and began. "We're here on a twofold mission, Mage Hannu. The Realm is in serious trouble, torn apart we believe by a Black Mage of incredible power. Throughout our journey, we've been obstructed by the same source, with numerous attempts on our lives. We've come to you to enlist your help in discovering how we can stop the violence and bloodshed rife in the Realm." Hannu was silent for several moments, his face giving nothing away. "Why would you come to me for that?" Mulder's heart sank. Hannu wasn't going to help them. All this way, this grueling journey, all the danger - for nothing. He and Scully looked at each other, their bond communicating their devastation. What would happen to the Realm? What would happen to them? Seeing their crestfallen expressions, he explained, "What I meant was, how did you know of me? Few outside of Montveil even know I still exist." Relief washed over the bondmates. "It was really more wishful thinking than anything, Mage Hannu," replied Scully. "At least at the beginning. Our direction was determined mostly by rumor and legend. As we got closer, however, the attempts against our lives increased. So we reasoned that we must be on the right track. The first time we had any proof that you actually existed was in Peaksview. We had let it be known we were seeking you, and we were approached by an elderly elf named Laira. She directed us to the village Mage in Treetops, and, well, I guess you know the rest." "You came all this way, faced danger at the peril of your lives? All based on wishful thinking?" he asked incredulously. Then he chuckled dryly. Surely they must be telling the truth. His enemy would have supplied her minions with a better story than that. Besides, their auras burned with a steady light - no tell-tale wavering. "All right. Suppose you start by telling me who you are." "My apologies, Mage Hannu. I am Mulder, this is Scully. Next to you is my halla, Shannon. And on the other side of her is Jhorgab, who has been our guide." "And you are a Mage yourself - of some power, from what I can see." Mulder nodded. "We come from Fairwoods Demesne, from King Andalor himself, and the Royal Mage Reinald, who ask for your assistance. Evidently you can read auras." "Fairly well, for a human. Enough to discern something else, unless my eyes are deceiving me. You and Scully are lifebonded." "Yes, we are lifebonded," replied Scully. "Mulder said that our mission is two-fold. The affairs of the Realm take precedence, of course. But our lifebond is...causing a problem. We understand that lifebonding among Mages is unknown, so no one could help us. You see, it started as some vague symptoms that would develop in both of us when we'd be separated by distance. The greater the distance and the more time we were separated, the worse the symptoms became. But the problem has become increasingly more difficult and lately the effects have been more pronounced. At this point we must stay in constant physical contact, or be overcome with dizziness, nausea, weakness, lack of concentration, up to and including complete collapse. Neither of us can afford this in our work, and no one can tell us what to do because no one has encountered a lifebonded Mage before." "I can see where it would be an impediment. But what makes you think I know any more about it than anyone else?" He looked thoughtful. "It's growing late, and I'm sure you are weary from your journey. I'm going to make some arrangements for you for the night. I'll return shortly." With that, he rose and left the cottage. "Well, what do you think?" asked Mulder of his companions. "I think I'm hoping he brings back food," said Jhorgab wistfully. Scully grinned at the little troll. "We'll see to it that you're fed. If nothing else presents itself, we'll go buy some food and cook it ourselves." "That's odd." Mulder looked pensive. "What's odd?" "Scully, did you notice any shops as we walked through the village?" She frowned. "Now that you mention it, no, I didn't. Unless they sell things directly from their homes," she said doubtfully. "I don't think so. All the gardens I saw were only large enough to sustain a single household - not nearly big enough to produce a market-sized crop. There are no outbuildings large enough to house cattle or horses, and the fields didn't have many animals grazing in them. And the path here! Think about it - we couldn't even bring the horses through. It's way too twisting and narrow for wagons. In fact, I didn't see a single wagon in the village. In view of all the secrecy surrounding Hannu's existence, it would make sense...." His voice trailed off. "What would make sense?" asked Shannon, bewildered. "You lost me." She looked at Jhorgab and Scully who seemed equally confused. "I'll bet anything this place isn't on any of the trade routes. I think that this village has sealed itself off from the rest of the world, that it's totally self-sufficient because it doesn't want to mix with others." "Or perhaps Hannu has forced it to be that way," suggested Scully. "Well, I hope not, but that's a possibility," Mulder said slowly. "How the hell did you manage to notice so much on a short walk?" He shrugged. "It's not like our happy host was chatting our ears off. I had to do something." "He's not what I expected," admitted Scully. "Do you think he's going to help us?" "He's certainly playing his cards close to his chest. I don't know. Maybe he still isn't sure of us, doesn't want to commit to anything until he has us checked out." "I would think that all those tests would be enough," declared Shannon, scowling. "What's next - Chinese water torture or something? He's weird. I feel like he's holding us at arm's length. It's like he has a deep dark secret he's afraid we'll find out, or is trying to forget himself." //Out of the mouths of babes....\\ Mulder's thoughts transferred easily to Scully. She looked at him. //I notice you said nothing about our not being from around here.\\ //Why introduce something that's just going to make him more suspicious and paranoid? If we have to later, fine, but I see no reason to bring it up if it's not germane.\\ //Unless our little problem is caused by our being from another world.\\ //Hmmm, possible. Well, let's hold off as long as we can.\\ //Yes, you're right.\\ She paused for a moment, then added, her mind-voice uncertain. //The weird thing is that there's something faintly familiar about him, Mulder. Almost as though I've seen him before....\\ //That doesn't seem likely,\\ Mulder replied, though his curiosity was clearly piqued. He trusted Scully's intuition even more than his own. //But give it some time, maybe it will come to you later...\\ Their conversation was ended when Hannu again entered the cottage. "I have arranged places for you to stay the night. You must forgive us - we're not very accustomed to visitors." "I can believe that," Shannon muttered under her breath. "The troll - Jhorgab? You will stay with Lohrat. He is the griltewy you may have seen on the way in." "Griltewy? I'm terribly sorry, Mage but I am unfamiliar with that particular being. Not that I have any objections, you understand, indeed, I thank you and Lohrat for your hospitality, but I should not like to offend him accidentally." Jhorgab paused for breath, then spoke his mind. "Do you know - has he eaten yet?" Hannu laughed, a pleasant sound, but one that sounded little used, and out of practice. "I think you and Lohrat will get along fine. And I believe he is just setting out plates for dinner. His is the third cottage on the left as you go up the road." "Just a moment, Mage Hannu," said Mulder firmly. "With all due respect, we've been through hell and back again, and we've done it together. I think we'd all feel more comfortable staying together." He looked to his companions, who nodded vigorously. "I'm afraid that will not be possible," Hannu replied, smiling coolly. "As you can see, we live simply here. Our homes are small, certainly too small to host four guests. My neighbors are quite anxious to help out, and are more than happy to take one or two of you. I assure you that you have nothing to fear here. Certainly, if you have really been through the horrors of which you spoke, a night separated by a few meters should not hold any terrors?" Mulder managed to maintain his outward calm, but inwardly he fumed. For days they had been pursued, tried, tricked and tested. The last, the most harrowing and cruel test of all, a test from which even now none of them had completely recovered. Lips tight, he looked at Scully. //He has us by the short hairs. If we insist on being together, it makes us look like boorish cowardly liars. I don't like it. We didn't go through what we did to be treated this way.\\ //Believe me, I like it less than you do. This guy could play chess like a master. But I really don't see what else we can do, Mulder.\\ She looked at Hannu appraisingly, then gave a mental nod to her bondmate. Coldly, he said, "All right, Mage Hannu. It appears unavoidable." He turned to Jhorgab, who was dancing in anticipation of his dinner. "Go to Lohrat's, Jhorgab. We'll be within shouting distance if you need us." His glare pierced the strange Mage. Without another word, the little troll was out the door and bustling toward Lohrat's cottage. Hannu bowed slightly and smiled. "Lady Shannon. You will stay with Jasta, our village healer, the next cottage up from Lohrat." He looked at Mulder who was clearly not happy about the state of affairs. "I understand you feel your responsibilities to your halla, Mage Mulder, but I assure you that Jasta is completely trustworthy." He looked toward Shannon. "She's expecting you. Will this be satisfactory?" "It's okay," said Shannon decisively. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your kindness, Mage Hannu." Drawing her weapons belt a little tighter around her, she walked up the road to find the healer's cottage. Mulder's eyes never left the girl until he saw an elderly elf open the door to her cottage to greet her, and Shannon wave back at him before entering. "A lovely girl. You're very lucky, Mage Mulder," Hannu said wistfully. Suddenly he seemed softer, more vulnerable, more human. "Thank you. What did you have in mind for Scully and myself? I understand we're putting your people out. If we have to sleep outside, even at Lohrat's or Jasta's, that's fine," Mulder said. It was his last card in a poor hand. Hannu smiled. "That won't be necessary. One of our people is away on a brief errand. He won't mind if you use his cottage, just next door." The Mage led the way to the little cottage about thirty meters away from his, and opened the door. "Jasta will bring you your evening meal, and there's some bread and cheese on the table. I'll see you in the morning." "Wait!" protested Scully. "What about -" "These things cannot be rushed, Warrior Healer Scully," Hannu said, pleasantly but firmly. "There's nothing we're going to accomplish tonight, in any event. We'll speak again in the morning." He shut the door behind him. "Son of a bitch," commented Mulder. "Well, it appears we have some time to kill. Any thoughts?" A roguish smile lit up Mulder's face as he folded Scully into his arms. They were just starting to really enjoy killing time, when there was a perfunctory knock at the door and Shannon walked in bearing a pot of soup. "Eat it while it's hot," she announced. "Oh, have I come at a bad time - again?" The emphasis was on the last word, and she grinned as they blushed. "Are you going to join us?" Scully asked, taking some bowls from a shelf. "No thanks, Jasta's waiting for me." "Is everything all right over there? Any funny feelings or anything? I do trust your intuition, you know." Mulder said. "No, Jasta's very nice. And I peeked in the window of Lohrat's cottage on the way over and he and Jhorgab seemed to be having a great time. What's a griltewy, anyway?" Mulder shrugged. "Other than the fact they are small, round and orange, I really have no idea. Maybe Jhorgab can fill us in tomorrow." "Did Hannu say anything more about helping us?" "Unfortunately not," replied Scully. "I think he's having us checked out. With whom I have no idea, but it seems the owner of this cottage had to take a very hasty trip, no doubt inspired by Hannu. I hate to waste time, but we really can't rush things, Shannon. We have to get Hannu on our side. Though at this point, I would enjoy knocking him on his ass." "Let me help." She hesitated, then said, "Mulder...my mother...it seemed so real." The tall Mage crossed to her and put his arms around her. "I know, baby. All of us were rocked, believe me. I think I'd rather face brigands or woodscats than go through that again." She quieted in his arms, then drew back. "Well, I'd better get going." "If you feel the slightest bit nervous about where you are, don't hesitate to come back here," said Mulder advisedly. "I honestly don't think it's going to be necessary. In spite of Hannu acting like a creep, Jasta really seems wonderful. She kind of reminds me of Corvay. I don't expect I'll come flying back here in the middle of the night with tales of terror." The girl went to the door. "And besides - think of what I might be interrupting!" Her musical laugh followed her out. End of Chapter Seventeen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Eighteen The morning skies were dark with heavy clouds, matching the mood of the crowd that gathered in a circle in the field west of Fairwoods Keep. In the center of the circle was a tall wooden pyre, its foundations piled high with kindling and logs. At the top, Corvay's tiny body was shrouded, wrapped in consecrated cloth and covered with lashella vines. Anatha and Reinald stood at either end, each holding a torch. The crowd was silent, except for a few sniffles and an occasional muffled sob. Anatha looked at the gathering with a serene expression. "We assemble today to speed our friend Corvay on his Last Journey. Knowing Corvay, the last thing he would have wanted was a fuss." There were a few smiles now, as mourners remembered the feisty old elf. "But it would not be a fitting memorial to our friend if we didn't make at least a small celebration of his life, of his work, of his gifts to all of us. Corvay had been around Fairwoods for as long as all of us can remember, for as long as our parents and even our grandparents can remember. Indeed, we were blessed by his presence for longer than we had a right to expect. Still, his passage to the Next World leaves a hole that will never be completely filled by another. The time for memory-speaking has come." She stood to one side and held out the torch. The crowd assembled into a single queue, the high-born lining up behind the peasant and the shopkeeper. For the moment, interspecies suspicion and hatred were forgotten, as troll stood with human, and human stood with elf. One by one they advanced, to take the proffered torch and speak their words of remembrance. "Corvay saved my son's life," declared a withered old troll in a wavering voice. "All hope was gone. The healer spent days and nights pouring over his books, trying to determine the cause of my son's illness, gathering herbs, even sending runners to distant places to find the rarest of ingredients for his potions. Then one night, my little boy was struggling for every breath, and we feared each might be his last. Suddenly, Healer Corvay burst through the door to our cottage with a steaming draught. Ach, it smelled terrible! But he coaxed it down Labi's throat, drop by drop, and sat with him through the night. When the morning dawned, Labi was sitting up in bed, calling for his breakfast. My son is a grandfather now. Corvay gave him his whole life." She passed the torch to the next in line, Aldara, with Jourdain and Daanna by her side. "Corvay brought our daughter into the world. It was a long and difficult birth, and many despaired for both my life and our child's. Corvay was there throughout it all, encouraging, scolding, healing - being whatever he needed to be at the moment to ensure that our daughter would live to see daylight." Aldara choked, her emerald eyes streaming hot tears. Jourdain patted her shoulder, then took the torch from her. "Healer Corvay saved my life more than once, but no more so than the day he saved my wife and daughter. May the Next World be as good to him as he has been to us." An elf eagerly accepted the torch from his hand. Andalor stood next in line, awaiting his turn. On and on it went, a litany of Corvay's selflessness, his irascible personality. Stories of his skill and his empathy, his ready friendship. How he healed the sick, eased pain, brought life into the world, and allowed the dying to slip gently through his hands to begin their Last Journey without suffering. Noble stories and funny ones, carved in the memories of the mourners like letters upon a stone tablet. At last, the final speaker placed the torch back into Anatha's hands. "The honor of lighting the way of the Last Journey belongs to the Royal Mage Reinald, Healer Corvay's oldest friend." At the other end of the pyre, Reinald was silent for some moments. Then, in a clear, strong voice he said, "Corvay lived a life of usefulness and quiet dignity, of unswerving loyalty and steadfast friendship. We owe him a debt we can never repay. Of course, if he were here, he would say that was nonsense." A few in the crowd chuckled, others nodded, smiling. Reinald's own smile faded. "My only regret is that his most devoted pupils, Healer Kyla and Warrior Healer Scully, and his favorite patient, Mage Mulder, cannot be here to see him on his way. In their names, and with gratitude for his life, I bid my cherished friend an easy journey to the Next World." He raised the torch, touched it to some kindling, and stepped back. The dry wood caught immediately. It quickly spread to envelop the pyre in a sea of flame. Fragrant smoke from the profusion of lashella vines permeated the air. Overhead, a single bolt of lightning forked through the skies, followed by a deafening crash of thunder. Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd began to withdraw, leaving only High Priestess Anatha and the grieving Mage. Tears welling in his eyes, he gazed upon the pyre, and his lips moved. "Goodbye, my old friend." - - - - - Tarnor waited nervously in Andalor's quarters, fiddling with sheets of parchment and lending a hand occasionally to the Professor, who was bent over his pots and wires near the hearth. By the windows, Andalor paced restlessly. The tall windows admitted little brooding light, the chamber dim enough for Dorbo to begin to light the torches on the walls. "Sire, why don't you withdraw to Reinald's chamber, or Lord Mandor's," the gargoyle suggested gently. "Reinald is not going to want you here when we cast the spell." "He's taking Corvay's death hard, Tarnor, very hard. Can't this spell casting wait a few days? He said it's going to be exhausting, and the healer's death has already drained him. I'm worried about him." Andalor threw himself into a chair. "I know, Your Majesty. But this can't wait. Our enemy could strike any one of us at any time. He won't get any rest until he knows that you're beyond reach. Your being here is just going to distract him. Ah! Here he is." Reinald appeared to have aged ten season-cycles in the space of a day. He turned suspiciously bright eyes on the king as Andalor bounded out of the chair to stand at his side. The young man held his silence, merely placing a hand on Reinald's shoulder. The Mage reached up and patted the king's hand. When he could speak without betraying his emotions, he said, "I'm all right, thank you, Andalor. Now, if you would please go to Lord Mandor's chamber...." "But Reinald!" The king's whisper was fierce, urgent, as he took the Mage by the arm and led him away from the others. "Please, I want to be here. I'm concerned about you." Reinald quickly recovered his customary decisiveness. Shaking his head, he said in English, "No way." Startled that the slang had actually emerged from his own lips, he smiled. "I'm sorry, Andalor. I appreciate your concern, but you must leave," he said, kindly but firmly. "We don't know precisely what to expect with this spell. If I have to be worried about your safety as well, my concentration might waver at a critical moment with...undesirable...consequences." Noting the young man's mulish expression, he pleaded, "Please, Andalor. Don't make this more difficult." The king sighed. "All right. But Reinald, be careful, okay?" At the Mage's nod, he reluctantly left the room. Reinald turned to the others. "Well, Gunther, what have you cooked up for us?" he asked, with more optimism and energy than he felt. The tall old man scratched his head and looked doubtful. "Theoretically, this should work. I've just been briefing Tarnor, here." He indicated an assemblage of pots and vats, some bubbling, some steaming, none having a positive effect on the peculiar odor in the room. "I've run my wires through each. With the force field that you create, I'm hoping that one or more of them reacts in such a way as to magnify the intensity of the field." With a sinking feeling, Tarnor repeated, "Hoping?" "Yes...well...there really hasn't been an opportunity to test this, you know. Back in my world, I did get a brief chance to measure the electromagnetic charge that Reinald's spells create. That's what I based all this on, but that data is regrettably...sketchy." "All I need to know is are we risking a bigger problem in doing this than in doing nothing?" demanded Reinald. The Professor thought for a moment and then shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. If everything goes the way I've theorized, we'll be all right. I feel the larger risk is that it won't work at all. Our unseen enemy lies in wait. Of course, there is always the off-chance of an explosion -" "Explosion!" yelped Tarnor. "Professor, you fill me with confidence about our undertaking." "Sorry," he smiled, apologetically, "but you should know what you're getting into." "There's still time to back out, Tarnor," Reinald said seriously. "No one would think the less of you." The gargoyle bared his pointed teeth in a grin. "I always wanted to go out with a bang. All right. Let's do it!" Reinald fixed him in a long, appraising stare, then nodded. He stepped over to the center of the room in an area clear of furniture, and Tarnor followed. They took a few minutes to center themselves. "Ready, Gunther?" The Professor looked up from his pots and wires. "Everything's ready here, Reinald." "Very well." In silence, the lips of the two Mages began to move, mouthing the words both familiar and new, giving life to the spell. Slowly, their arms rose, and curved, and joined, forming a circle. Bright white-blue darts of energy ran down their arms, forming a glowing ring that illuminated the room far better than the torches on the walls. They now gave voice to the cadence of the chant, growing louder, more commanding. At the hearth, the liquid in some of the pots heaved and frothed, and the wires hummed. The Professor crouched over them, making adjustments, feeling the electric thrill tingling the skin of his bared forearms. Now the Mages' voices thundered, and the brilliant glare spread, out the windows to spill onto the courtyard below, under the door to dance along the stone corridors. Soon the castle thrummed to the power coming from within, the entire keep enveloped in a fierce glow. On and on it went, the merged voices shouting, almost - but not quite - drowning out the cries of surprise and alarm rising from the inhabitants of Fairwoods Castle. Finally, a candlemark after they had begun, the Mages slowly lowered their arms and croaked out the last of the spell. The darts of energy gradually faded, but a shimmer of light and the electric sensation remained everywhere. Exhausted, the Mages sank to the luxurious carpet. Professor Neumann yanked the wires from the pots and rushed to the side of his friends. Kneeling, he cradled Reinald's head in his lap. "Reinald - are you all right? Should I fetch a healer?" Weakly, the Royal Mage shook his head. "Not now. I must sleep...but...when the glow fades and ... your skin no longer senses the spell at work...we must be roused...to renew the shield.... Do you understand?" Mutely, Gunther nodded, starting a little as he heard Andalor's voice behind him. The king had rushed from Lord Mandor's chambers as soon as he felt the vibrations begin to abate. "We'll do just as you say, Reinald. Guards!" A squad of the king's personal guards rushed in. "Bear Mage Reinald and Mage Tarnor to the Royal Mage's chambers. Gently, mind!" the king commanded. "Put them to bed. Then summon Healer Sirisa and the Mages' servants to meet me there. They will be given further instructions." The guards, with more care and gentleness than would be expected of their kind, raised their burdens and bore them from the room. Andalor's gaze followed them. When their footsteps echoed in the hallway, he turned to the Professor. "Professor, it worked, didn't it? How long will it last?" The old man nodded. "Yes, I believe it worked. Reinald seems satisfied that it did, anyway, and that's good enough for me. As to how long it will last, I can't say, Your Majesty." Outside, thunder rumbled as the wind drove raindrops to smash against the high stone walls surrounding the courtyard, but none penetrated the barrier the Mages had constructed. As if in revenge, the fury of the storm intensified. Lightning viciously arced across the sky, thunder crashing almost simultaneously. No ordinary storm, this, Andalor knew. The king was grim. "Long enough for them to recover?" "Let us hope so, Sire." - - - - - Three doors down the corridor, the king's formal reception room now served to shelter the family of the Captain of the Royal Guards. Mumbling, Daanna shifted restlessly in her sleep on a small cot. At the hearth, Lita stirred the pot of stew she had brought up from the kitchens and tried to ignore the tingling of her skin and the sensation of magic at work. Her own cot was next to the child's, awaiting an end to her tasks. At the far end of the spacious chamber, two bedrolls had been laid out on the rug side by side. In chairs nearby the warriors sat, conversing in low tones. "Jourdain, what if the spell doesn't work? I'm worried that Daanna could be the next one attacked." Aldara's nerves were drawn as taut as lyre strings. The glow produced by the burgeoning spell made her nervous, and the death of Corvay had upset her almost as much as it had Reinald. Now anxiety about the safety of her child pushed to the fore, and her black brows drew together in a frown. He closed a massive hand around her tiny one. "I have every confidence in Reinald and Tarnor. If there's any possible way to protect us, they'll do it. Besides, pet - why should Daanna be in any more danger than the rest of us? She's just a baby. Surely the king, his betrothed, or the Mages themselves are likelier targets." "Her powers are unique. We don't know enough about them ourselves to understand how much of a target they may make her. Reinald recognized the danger, that's why we're here. Our enemy is a Black Mage of immense power If that force could reach in and take Corvay, it certainly could have discovered the threat our daughter might pose. Her foretelling dreams have given us the only insight we have into our enemy. Whether this "dark lady" of her dreams is indeed the Black Mage, or works in league with another, only Daanna has managed to put a face to our enemy." Jourdain grunted. "Aye, that's true enough. And I'd like to know what part that cursed Drellor has in all this." "Drellor?" questioned his wife, surprised. "What has Drellor to do with this?" He shrugged. "It stands to reason. Drellor was removed from his cell, using Black Magic, just as all the trouble began to brew. His heart is black with hatred for the king and Reinald. Even his allies in House Dordinal haven't been able to muster enough support to release him. Now, with the enemy assaulting the Realm from all sides and attacking in our midst, I find it impossible to believe he isn't involved somehow. Aye, be sure of it. He's made a deal with the Evil One -" He broke off as a bolt of lightning lit up the dim room and thunder shook the walls. Crossing the chamber, he stared out a tall window set high in the wall. "Aldara, come and look!" She went to his side and he lifted her, as he would a child, to see out. The skies had grown night-black. Beyond the perimeter of the courtyard wall, the storm raged. Trees bent and cracked, rain came down in sheets, and thunder and lightning were continuous. "Goddess! Jourdain, the rain - it's as if there's a wall of glass surrounding the castle!" He lowered her gently until her feet touched the floor and smiled down on her. "Well, love, it looks like Reinald's spell is working. That's not just a storm, it's a Mage-storm. Yet the castle remains untouched. If all of us are protected that well, we have nothing to worry about." She snuggled into his broad chest and sighed contentedly, his arms around her. Jourdain was her rock, her safe harbor. She was a warrior, yes, but also a mother, who sometimes worried excessively about her child. Her husband had a way of calming her, of giving her reassurance that no one else could give. A sound from over by the cots attracted their attention, and they turned to see their daughter, awakening from her nap with a beatific smile. "Mamma, Poppa! Mage Mulder is with the tall blue man!" They looked at each other and bolted to their child's side. "What do you mean, kitten? What blue man?" asked Jourdain gently. She sighed with childish impatience. "The blue man he was going to see. Mage Mulder and W-war...Warrior-Healer Scully. And Shannon and the funny little being. They were sitting down in the woods and the man came and he bringed them to his house." "Do you mean Hannu?" prompted her mother, eagerly. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I don't know. He's blue, like Mage Mulder. And very tall, like Poppa. I'm hungry." "Good, child. Now, come and eat, all of you. I have a nice supper all prepared," said Lita, dishing out bowls of stew. Jourdain smiled down at his wife. "It appears we have more than Reinald's spell to celebrate, pet." Glancing over at their elven servant, he said, "Keep mine warm, please, Lita. I'll be back shortly. It will be a pleasure to bring the king some good news, for a change." - - - - - Lightning snapped and thunder crashed throughout the Realm, as the winds bore the evidence of her fury. It had begun candlemarks before, and the quivering minions of the Dark Queen cowered in their corners and wondered when her wrath would be spent. Never before had they seen her like this, face almost black with a rage so strong, so powerful that even the capacity for speech eluded her. Her incoherent shrieks echoed through the bleak hallways and ricocheted off slime-covered walls. Finally, her voice grown hoarse, she fell silent, and an ominous quiet filled the darkness. This was the time her servants feared the most, when at any time a summons could come from above, and one of them might be sacrificed to her temper. High above where the servants hid, a flickering fire threw little light. Illumination of the noisome chamber came mostly from the intermittent lightning of the dying storm, suddenly exploding, then leaving the room dim until the next burst. Glowering, the Dark Queen sat huddled in her armchair, arms curled protectively around her midsection as if in pain. It was a kind of agony she was suffering, though more emotional than physical. Wrong. Everything had gone wrong. Her mind cried out to her father, to dear Lashmilla, seeking consolation and inspiration. Bad enough was her failure to observe the travelers. Just when she had them in her sight, collapsed on the forest floor in confusion and grief - he had appeared. For a short time she was able to combat the interference in her vision that had coincided with her enemy's arrival. With difficulty she followed them through the woods, concentrating so fiercely to keep her vision that her head throbbed. But when they had reached the clearing, the hematite sphere hummed and vibrated as before, but the images dimmed, then disintegrated. Repeated attempts to restore their images yielded no better results, leaving her frustrated and blind to her enemies. Finally in hot rage she had turned to Fairwoods Keep, once again seeking a release to the unbearable tension in the havoc she could wreak there. To once more cause grief and loss to her enemies such as she had borne almost since she could remember. She had reached for her sphere, had even chosen her mark - a slight, pale, pretty young girl treated with deference by the inhabitants. Then, just as her mouth moved to the first words of the spell that would reach in and suck out the child's life, a gray curtain suddenly obscured her vision. In moments it became white-blue and painfully brilliant, burning her eyes until she could bear it no more and had hurled the sphere across the room. The storm and the tirade had followed. Now she sat, tired. Too tired. Her outburst of temper had excessively sapped her store of energy for the battle to come, yet the writhing snake of her frustration still gnawed at her core. Her thoughts were as dark as her soul as she craved both sustenance and relief from the tension which threatened to consume still more of her precious reserves. Nothing had gone right so far. Yes, the villagers still slaughtered each other in those areas the king's troops had not yet reached. Admittedly, hatred still flourished, even in some of those towns where the troops stood careful watch. But none of this was enough to realize her dream. The Blue Mages had to be defeated, and Fairwoods must lie in smoldering ruins to see her plans come to fruition. While her enemies hid behind their shields of magic, she could do nothing. Nothing but sit here miserably and regret her mistakes, imagining the voices of her lost ancestors calling out, berating her for failing them, failing herself. She burst to her feet, fists clenched, face turned to the blackened beams of the ceiling. "By your blood, I shall be victorious!" she thundered. She stripped back the long tight sleeve of her underdress from her forearm. Eyes flashing, she brought her arm to her fury- contorted face. With a hoarse screech, she sank her perfect, sharp white teeth into the tender flesh of her wrist. Scarlet blood gushed from the wound, staining her mouth, running freely down her arm to be soaked up in her sleeve. The Dark Queen raised her face once more, and stretched her arms high. "By MY blood, I shall be victorious!" - - - - - Scully's eyes popped open and she tensed. As the realization of her whereabouts slowly came to her and she felt her bondmate's arms tighten around her, she relaxed and let her eyes close once more. "Good morning." She smiled. "Good morning. You sound like you've been awake for a while." "Yeah. Couldn't sleep." "That's odd, for you. Well, it's odd here, anyway." Although Mulder had insomnia in his own world, in the Realm he generally slept peacefully. And with the exertions of the journey, sleep had not been a problem. "The bed's not spacious, but it's reasonably comfortable." "I know. No, I was comfortable enough. Just too disappointed and pissed off. And the more I thought about that third test, the more pissed off I got. You don't think he actually invaded our minds to get those images, do you? I mean, if so, Hannu has taken a giant step downwards in my estimation. Bad enough we were treated like unwelcome guests. Then he decides to have us checked out and puts us on ice. But if he did intrude into our minds to set up that third test, then he's no better than the Black Mage who mentally raped me back at the Greenswan River." He frowned. "But I just can't make myself believe that of Hannu. It's not a 'Blue Mage' thing to do. And I'm not a world-class aura reader like Lita, but I could swear that he hasn't lied to us. What's he trying to do?" "I don't know." At the mention of Lita's name, Scully was reminded of their friends in Fairwoods. "I wonder what's happening back at the castle. If they put an end to all the outbreaks of killing, if the king and all our friends are all right." Mulder drew her closer. "I don't know. If our theory is correct and a Black Mage has been causing all this, then chances are it's still going on. And our theory IS correct, Scully - there's too much evidence for it to be anything else. I don't know, maybe we've been able to distract our enemy somewhat. One thing I do know - Hannu had better come up with some substantive help today, or we'd better fall back to Plan B." "As I recall, we don't have a Plan B." "Yeah, I know," he said ruefully. She stroked his shoulders and chest comfortingly. "Something will happen. It'll be okay." "More of the famous but often-denied Scully intuition?" "I just know it HAS to be okay, Mulder." He lowered his lips to hers just as Shannon walked through the door with a perfunctory knock. She rolled her eyes. "Are you guys at it again? Don't you ever get tired?" Mulder sighed. "Good morning to you too, Shannon. Your timing is impeccable, as always. Everything okay during the night?" "I slept like a baby. Jasta's a sweetie." She plopped down on a rough wooden bench at the table. "And if you're interested, breakfast is being served at Hannu's as soon as you're ready." "I'm very interested," declared Mulder. "Does Jhorgab know?" "He had his first breakfast at dawn with Lohrat. Evidently, griltewies and trolls are on the same wavelength when it comes to priorities. But he's ready for another if we can get you two to join us." She sat smiling pleasantly at her taabsut and his bondmate. Now he was pointedly returning her gaze. She colored prettily. "Oh! Yeah...well. You'll want to get up and get dressed now, won't you, so I'll just meet you over there, okay?" She slipped out the door with a giggle. - - - - - It was no surprise to the couple that Jhorgab was chattering away happily to anyone who would pay him the slightest bit of attention. The crowd at Hannu's cottage spilled out into the front yard, and they stepped back from the path as two gargoyles carried in another long table. Entering the little dwelling, they found it contained most of the inhabitants of the village. Mulder gave a short, impatient snort. //We can hardly get down to business in front of all these beings. More of Hannu's stalling tactics, do you think?\\ //Could be. Make the best of it, Mulder. We passed the tests on the trip here. Maybe this is another one - a test of our patience.\\ //I don't think the Realm can afford for us to be patient much longer, Scully.\\ He swallowed a sympathetic chuckle as he could almost hear her teeth grinding in frustration. The messages he was receiving over their link were completely opposite to the expectant, friendly exterior his bondmate was putting on public view. "Ah, there they are! Mage Mulder, Warrior Healer Scully! There are some beings here that I want you to meet." In stark contrast to his cool reserve of the previous day, Hannu was the warm, convivial host, making introductions and handing around mugs of tea. He introduced them to the inhabitants of the village, a colorful mixture of beings who treated the Mage as just one of their neighbors. Giving up, for now, on the idea of drawing any closer to a solution to their problems, they chatted easily with the beings until everyone was called to the table by Jasta. When they had all found seats, an old human stood at the head of one of the tables and spoke softly in a strange tongue. When he was finished, the villagers responded briefly in the same language, then began passing the heaping platter of food. The serving dishes arrived last at the place where the troll and the griltewy sat side by side. The villagers evidently understood a thing or two about their appetites. The two new friends evenly divided the generous amount of food still on the platters between them, and fell to eating with enthusiasm. Mulder and Scully necessarily sat together. He chatted to Lohrat on his right, ducking the spray of food particles that were emitted when the griltewy spoke. Pausing between mouthfuls, Scully looked around at the tables filled with happy, peaceful, but completely disparate beings. "How do you like our cuisine, Warrior Healer Scully?" asked Hannu, seated on her left. "It's wonderful." She sipped at her tea. Then, hoping to get a little information, she commented, "How very fortunate the interspecies hatred plaguing the Realm hasn't affected you here." He smiled pleasantly. "Very fortunate indeed." She bit back a flash of annoyance. He was toying with her. He knew very well she was on a fishing expedition, and had easily avoided her last cast. Persistently, she said, "Mulder and I have seen many villages on our journey, but this one appears unique. In many ways. For instance, isn't it unusual for such a small, isolated village to have such a wide assortment of beings? How did so many different species come to be here?" "Why is anyone anywhere? he laughed. "Perhaps once again we can ascribe the happenstance to good fortune." Scully was about to press the question when the Mage turned from her to chat with the being on his other side. She fumed silently. //What's up, love?\\ He turned in her general direction, but avoided giving the impression he was communicating with her. //I tried getting some information out of Hannu. I think it would be easier getting an alphabetized list of Swiss bank accounts mailed to the IRS.\\ //Never mind. Wait until this crowd clears out and we'll see if Hannu is any more forthcoming.\\ //He'd better be.\\ When the meal was finished, the dirty dishes disappeared, whisked away by their owners. The crowd said their goodbyes and left, taking the extra tables and benches with them. Jasta was the last to leave, and finally they were alone with Hannu. The Mage could sense their impatience, but still seemed reluctant to engage in any meaningful discussion, steering the conversation in the direction of trivialities. "Shannon, why don't you and Jhorgab explore the village?" Mulder suggested. "If that is allowed, of course," he added dryly, looking at Hannu. "Certainly, by all means. You are my guests, not my prisoners. If I may suggest, however - avoid the woods to the northwest, the direction from which you entered the village. There's quite a lovely glade to the east, complete with a babbling brook. I often go there to think. Why don't you try there? Or you may visit any of the villagers, I'm sure they'd be glad of your company." Shannon was about to protest, as only an aggrieved teenager can. Here she had gone through all the dangers and hardships of the journey, holding her own with the adults, only to be told now to go away and play, as if she were a child. Her cheeks flushed with irritation and she opened her mouth to argue, when she caught sight of her taabsut's expression. One look at his quiet, concentrated determination told her it was an argument she would not win and which would prove an embarrassment to everyone. "Come on, Jhorgab. We know when we're not wanted." She opened the door to allow the troll through. "Shannon? Perhaps, if you would like, I could show you the glade myself," Hannu offered. "Say, in a candlemark? If it is allowed, of course." She turned expectantly to Mulder, who was staring at Hannu with eyes narrowed. Finding no trace of irony in the Mage's words which were so much an echo of his own, seeing no tell-tale flicker of his powerful blue aura, he said, "All right. If you want to, Shannon." "Yeah, that would be great! See you there." Happily she followed Jhorgab out the door and into the village. //Mulder, are you sure that was wise?\\ He sent a wave of reassurance, then his mind turned to their mission. To Hannu he remarked, "I'm concerned about our friends back in the Realm. Every day we delay means more death and destruction. We told you of the gravity of the situation. We've been as open as we can be. I think it's now time we asked you to return the favor." "Are you saying that I've been less than truthful?" he asked. He looked at the pair, the corners of his amber eyes crinkling with amusement. "No," replied Scully carefully. "As far as we know you haven't lied to us. But truth and frankness are not necessarily the same." For some time, the three parried back and forth, an intelligent and stimulating discussion but imparting no information of any use to the bondmates. Finally, when Scully realized just how far off track the glib Mage had led them, she broke in. "This is all fine, but we're not here to discuss philosophy. Witty conversation is all well and good, but there are beings dying all over the Realm. And your delaying tactics are getting us nowhere." Mulder shot her a look of caution. //Easy, love. I know it's frustrating but we have to play his game.\\ Gravely Hannu nodded. "I'm sure that's very distressing to you. As I said last night, these things take time." The bland dismissal finally lit Mulder's fuse. "How much time?" he demanded. "Look, we came here because you were our last resort. Believe me, we wouldn't have chosen to go through the hell we did if it weren't necessary. We've been surveyed, scrutinized, tested and now stonewalled. You can read my aura, you know I'm telling you the truth. Why can't you be straight with us? We need your help." He paused as he suddenly realized something. He had said the word 'stonewalled' in English, having no ready Realm equivalent. Yet Hannu did not blink, did not look perplexed, in fact did not in any way register a lack of understanding. Interesting. Mulder filed the fact away in his memory. "Look, you know about us, even about the intensely personal problem Scully and I are having with our bond," he continued. "Yet we know nothing about this place, nothing about you." "It isn't necessary for you to know anything about me," the Mage replied coolly. "Trust goes both ways," Scully countered, annoyed. The Mage frowned, his lips tight. "I have not spent the last several score of season-cycles trying to forget aspects of my past, only to divulge them to you," he said heatedly, his detachment finally cracked. He looked into Mulder's hazel eyes, which always bore a trace of pain, the presence of ghosts. "I might suggest," he added more softly, "that there are portions of your own past you would not chose to share with a new acquaintance, no matter how congenial." Scully felt rather than saw Mulder recoil slightly from the emotional bullseye that Hannu's words had scored. She had had enough. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing, Hannu, but at this point I seriously question why we bothered to come here," she snapped. "Your little stunt of invading our minds for the third test makes you no better than our enemy." Shocked, Hannu drew back. "Invade your minds?" he gasped. "I would never do that. It's against everything I believe in, everything a Blue Mage represents." "But the images, the visions that came to us - you made them, you forced them on us," Mulder said numbly. Still dazed, Hannu shook his head. "I didn't invade your minds, I wouldn't commit such an act." "Then how -" "I'm sorry, very sorry for the pain that the test seems to have caused you. I thought when I first saw you in the forest that something was wrong, but I never thought.... Yes, the visions were my creation in a way, but actually they were not." Noting the disbelief and confusion in their expressions, he continued, "Let me explain." "I think you'd better," responded Scully darkly, stroking her bondmate's arm comfortingly. "The third test was merely another way to entice you off the trail. The spell only makes the would-be entrant see what he or she most wishes to see, appearing at some distance off the path. It is the entrant who determines what is seen. For many, the image is a bag of gold, or sparkling jewels. For others it might be a beautiful female, or a handsome male, or even a coveted weapon. In your case...." "In our case, it produced visions of people who were very dear to us, people we have lost," finished Mulder quietly. "And it felt like losing them all over again, thanks to your test," added his bondmate icily. "You have my most abject apology," Mage Hannu said. "That test was never meant to cause pain, and I can see that it did in your case. Great pain. It was unforgivable, and I'm sorry." The sweet twittering of a songbird sounded outside the cottage. "I must ask you to excuse me," said Hannu. "It is nearly time to meet your halla, and I don't want to keep her waiting. I must also apologize to her, and to Jhorgab. I shall return shortly." "But what about -" "Soon, Warrior-Healer Scully. Soon." The door closed behind him. - - - - - Shannon felt like she had died and gone to heaven. She relaxed on the sun-warmed stone, dangling her bare feet in the cool shallow stream. Dappled shade and sun glinted off the clear water, and a soft breeze played with the surrounding treetops. A sudden snap of a twig, however, and she was back in warrior mode - on her feet, crouched in a defense posture, sword in hand. Then she relaxed, smiled, and resheathed her weapon. "Oh, it's you!" "I see you have found my favorite place," Hannu called from the opposite bank. She reclined once more. "I can see why you love it. Come on over, there's plenty of room on this rock." The Mage removed his boots and waded out to her, sitting on the edge of the rock she comfortably occupied. "Your journey was hard, but you seem no worse for your experiences, I'm happy to see." She gazed at him from beneath her lashes. "It's been interesting, that's for sure." "Tell me a little about yourself." Shannon was hesitant. For some reason, she felt herself drawn to the enigmatic Mage, in spite of his lack of cooperation with their mission. But she knew Mulder wanted to keep their origins a secret for now. Not to mention the charade of Mulder's being her uncle. While she was eager to talk to him, she was afraid of saying something which would betray Mulder's confidence in her. "There's not much to tell, really. I began training as a warrior some time ago, after my aura was read and my talents were discovered. Since then, I've been working hard. I must say I've had more practice on the journey than I thought I would." Hannu smiled warmly. "You obviously have trained well, or you never would have survived. Your aura also contains a bit of Mage blue. Have you ever tried to develop it?" "Mage Mulder's been showing me a few things. But having it in my aura came as a bit of a surprise." "A surprise? Why? With your uncle a powerful Mage, it's reasonable that you should have received some talent through your familial relationship." Shannon blushed a little over her gaffe and hoped that Hannu would think the redness of her cheeks was due to the strong sunlight. "Yes, of course. Well... I just never thought I would inherit those gifts." Hannu nodded and seemed to accept her explanation. He looked around him. "Lovely place, isn't it?" He was quiet for a while, leaning his weight back on his arms and enjoying the feel of the warm sun on his skin. "You're a young woman, the right age for marriage. Any thoughts in that direction?" When she didn't respond, he glanced toward her. She was frowning. "No, not really. There is someone, a very special young man...but the match would not be agreeable to his family." "Then they obviously have either poor taste or unreasonable expectations." She laughed bitterly. "That's what Taabsut Mulder said." "Tell me of your family, where you come from. Perhaps I know the village." Her face darkened further. "I don't think so. It's really far away, I don't think it's possible you could have been there. My family was just my mother. I lost her recently." Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of Karen, the brilliant woman she was only beginning to know when her life was brutally ended. One tear coursed slowly down her cheek, and she averted her head quickly to hide it from the Mage. After a moment, he said gently. "It's so hard to lose someone you love, isn't it? I'm sorry. It seems I have now caused you pain twice. It was your mother whom you saw in the forest, wasn't it? I want to apologize. The third test was never meant to cause anyone unhappiness." Shannon sniffed and roughly wiped away the evidence of her tears. "It's okay. Don't worry about it. It's just..." She stopped. "Go on. It's just what, Shannon?" "Well, my mother and I never really got along. I was rebellious and resented her, for all the wrong reasons. I never even knew she loved me until..." She broke off until she could get her quavering voice under control. "Until she gave her life to save me." Startled, Hannu exclaimed, "Goddess! What happened?" She shook her head. "It's a long story. She was murdered. And now I wish I had gotten to know her better and hadn't been such a pain in the... I mean, I wish I hadn't been so much trouble to her." "She'd be very proud of you now." "Thanks." She looked up at him shyly. "That's what Taabsut Mulder and Dana keep telling me." "Dana?" "Warrior-Healer Scully. That's her first name." His reaction was so brief she never saw it. "Ah! Of course. She was Mulder's sister, after all." "No.... I mean.... Mulder and Scully were there when it happened." Now Hannu looked confused. "But - surely - Mage Mulder would have had the power to stop it?" "Not there. It doesn't work. I mean -" Shannon stumbled over her words. "I mean, it was very sudden. It was too quick. If he could have saved her, he would have. He felt almost as bad as I did." They were both silent for some moments, Shannon lost in the traumatic memories of her mother's death, Hannu in the questions that her words raised. 'First names?' His magic wouldn't work 'there?' Finally he said, "We should be getting back. I'm sure Mage Mulder will be concerned about you." "Yeah, I guess." Reluctantly she got to her feet and retrieved her boots. He did likewise and together they waded across the stream. - - - - - When Hannu returned to the cottage with Shannon, Mulder and Scully were ready. "All right, Mage Hannu," Scully said. "If you aren't going to assist us, just tell us now. We have beings depending on us to help them. Maybe you can sit idly by while they're slaughtered, but we can't. It will be a long trip back to Fairwoods. The sooner we leave, he sooner we can get back and help." He held up his hands. "Wait, please. I understand only too well your urgency. Let us have tea and discuss it." As he bent to his task, the travellers watched his every move. The Mage seemed different, more conciliatory. Mulder flashed a questioning glance Shannon's way, but she merely shrugged and stared at her boots. //Do you think Shannon said something to him, somehow convinced him?\\ //I don't know. She may have let something slip - she's avoiding eye contact. There's nothing we can do about it now. I don't know what she possibly could have said to convince him we're telling the truth. God knows we haven't been able to do it.\\ When the steaming mugs had been passed around, Hannu seated himself on the bench next to the long table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry for the delay, but I had to be sure." "Was it something we said, or did you have us checked out? Your exit when we heard that birdcall was rather convenient," Mulder commented mildly. Hannu smiled wryly. "It seems I might just as well have had him knock. Bicar, your host for last night, has a somewhat...checkered...past. He still has several contacts which are useful from time to time. One of those is a Black Mage several candlemark's journey from here, who, unbeknownst to him, has been a valuable source of information about the goings-on in the world of the Black Arts." "You suspected us of being in league with a Black Mage?" Scully asked incredulously. "When dealing with Black Magic, anything may be possible - the disguising of an aura, for example. While no spell is known to exist for that, it is always within the realm of possibility. As far as I could tell, you were who and what you claimed to be, but I had to make certain. Once before we had a visitor who tricked us all, and who could have caused the deaths of everyone in the village." "What happened to the visitor?" questioned Shannon. "We thought since she desired so much to be amongst us, that we would ensure that she got her wish. She is now that very attractive fountain you may have noticed on your way through the village." He hesitated a moment, then went on. "I am now secure that there is no dissembling here, that your mission is as you say. I am also sure that there is something you're holding back, but I feel that it's relatively benign." "Does that mean that you'll answer our questions now, that you'll help us?" Mulder asked. At Hannu's nod, he continued. "Did Bicar's source give him any idea of who our enemy is?" "Oh, that. I've always known that. It could be no one else. There's only one with the power and the blackness of heart to cause these deeds. She's a very powerful Black Mage." "The dark lady of Daanna's dreams!" Scully breathed. "You have personal knowledge of her?" guessed Mulder. "Unfortunately. We met once, ages ago. It was not a cordial meeting." Mulder started, then began digging around in his saddlebags. Triumphantly, he pulled out the tapestry Reinald had given him and unrolled it. "Was it anything like this?" Taking the tapestry, Hannu chuckled as he scanned it. "Well, let's say this is a highly idealized account. The actual confrontation was much less attractive." Scully returned the Mage's smile. "What happened?" "I guess you could say we had a difference of opinion concerning the ethical use of magic," he responded dryly. "Neither of us was willing to capitulate to the other, as the stakes were rather high. We fought," he finished simply. "Legend has it that both of you disappeared after that battle," probed Mulder. "It was thought that both of you were dead. Where did you disappear to? How did it happen?" He sighed. "When you deal with magical power of the magnitude we were, anything can happen. And it did. I think that's all I want to say about it for now. Eventually, I found my way back. It appears that she did, too." "Tell us about her," Scully urged. "I don't know her name - I don't know if anybody does. She subscribes to the old school, where it is thought that if your enemy knows your name, he holds a kind of power over you. I know that she is as beautiful on the outside as she is twisted and evil on the inside. "As to her motives and the task we have cut out for us - she has immense power fueled by a limitless hatred of those she feels wronged her. She is the last of a dynasty of Mage-kings and queens who were devoted to the use and promulgation of the Black Arts. Her father was destroyed by one of his own spells - a little revenge spell he was cooking up because he blamed Blue Mages for the death of his wife. In fact, Blue Mages had nothing to do with it. From the ancient records which recounted her symptoms, she succumbed to a plague that was raging in that part of our land at the time. But he never saw it that way. So he was killed, and his two daughters fled their ancestral home into the surrounding swamp. Today it's called Witch Tears Swamp, supposedly because of the unearthly sounds of weeping and moaning heard there after they were banished. Only one of the sisters survived. The vow of vengeance has sustained her since that time. Evidently she has decided to wait no longer to carry out her oath." "When you fought before, the legend says that the battle ended in a draw," Mulder said. "Did you get any insight from that?" He was seriously worried. An enemy with so much power that Hannu could not conquer her was a frightening thought. Now that they had enlisted Hannu's aid, it was time to try to formulate some sort of battle plan. The Mage rose and stood by the fire, thinking. Slowly, he replied, "Knowledge is the key. I pulled out every spell I could think of and it was not enough. And, meaning no offense, I probably knew far more spells even then than you and Reinald combined know now. Even with those I have added since that time so long ago, I still have none that I have any confidence could defeat this enemy." "Well, still, there must be some safety in numbers," Mulder persisted hopefully. "There would be you and Reinald and myself. Between us we should have enough power." "Possibly," Hannu muttered. Louder, he said "If we had the right spell to convert that power into something deadly. I have heard of Reinald, certainly he is a great and powerful Mage. But much may have happened since you left Fairwoods." Noting their alarmed expressions, he said quickly, "No, I don't mean that he is injured, or worse. No, I merely meant that he may have already expended a certain amount of that power in fighting the spells of the Black Mage. In his position, that's what I would be doing." "And will expend more power if he constructs a Gate to bring us back," Mulder added glumly. Hannu nodded. "That's true. So we can't count on Reinald. And you - you have your own problems." "Me?" "How do you think you're going to be able to function with your present lifebond difficulties? Believe me, you will have to be at the top of your form and unfettered from your need to be in physical contact with Warrior Healer Scully if you are to be effective. In your present state you'll be useless, a danger certainly to yourself and your bondmate, and possibly to Reinald and me. No, like it or not, no matter how urgently you wish to enjoin the battle against the Black Mage, you're going to have to get this lifebond problem out of the way first." "We don't have the time -" Scully began. "No - you don't have a choice. If you don't do something about this now, your bondmate and you will not survive. You will be of precious little use to the Realm if you're dead." Hannu was firm. "So do you know what's wrong?" Scully asked. "Can you fix it? You have the answer?" His eyes twinkled as he crossed the hearth area to sit near to them. "Yes, I believe I have the answer. In fact, you have had the answer nearly at your fingertips all along." The bondmates, puzzled, looked at one another and then back to the Mage, disbelief clear on their faces. Clasping their right hands in his own, he lifted their hands and spoke with solemn certainty. "It's your rings!" End of Chapter Eighteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Nineteen - NC-17 Optional Chapter "The rings?" Mulder's voice was sharp with surprise. Hannu nodded, gazing at them with narrowed eyes. The older Mage shook his head, sighing. "So much has been lost, so much of the old knowledge gone. And I cannot even be sure if it is a good thing or not. Regardless...yes, the rings. I thought when I saw the two of you wearing them, Mage and lifebonded Companion, that you knew that much at least. It is a rare spell, true, but these are obviously bond- rings. The stones are the center of the power, but it is traditional to wear them this way." Mulder and Scully were glancing from their rings to him with confusion in their eyes, and he paused, rubbing unhappily at his beard. "It's not often done, even in the ancient past it was used only by the most powerful Mages," he explained. "The rings serve a number of useful purposes, increasing focus and range, extending awareness, but most importantly, acting as a method of keeping control. Power such as yours, Mulder, can be a terrible gift..." He paused as the other Mage's expressive face darkened, the hazel eyes glinting. Hannu inclined his head in acknowledgment of the unspoken, familiar fears, then continued smoothly. "Control is, and always should be, a Mage's watchword. Which is why some choose a Companion." The word was patently capitalized, causing Scully's eyebrow to lift. Hannu gave her the faintest of smiles. "A Companion is another person, one who has no magical talent, yet is always someone of unusual sensitivity. Often Companions are healers, the requirements of both roles seem to match well. For the Mage, the Companion serves as both focus and anchor, guiding the Mage back to awareness when the power surges too strongly, adding strength to his will and clarity to his mind. It can involve a major sacrifice on the part of the Companion, though the rewards are many. Still, most Mage and Companion pairs are -- were -- lifebonded, though the pairing was not always male-female. In fact the closest Mage-Companion pairing I have seen...until now..." he added as an afterthought, studying them meticulously. "...was between two men. They were never lovers, but the relationship was one of the closest I have ever seen. Yours is similar, except that you are lovers, but that, for all the apparent power of it, is secondary only." Mulder looked startled, but Scully nodded. "So I am Mulder's Companion?" she asked. Hannu held for a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully. "You *could* be. In effect you are, but something is not right. The rings are obviously activated, and the psychic bond between you is extraordinary, but it's all skewed. Uncontrolled." He frowned, storm clouds gathering in his dark eyes. "Did you not undergo *any* training?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. //I think we'd better tell him,\\ Scully sent. //Perhaps you're right; it *is* pretty much public knowledge.\\ Mulder's sudden chime of amusement rang in her mind. //Think he'll believe it?\\ Turning back to Hannu, he answered as though nothing had passed between question and reply. "There wasn't really time. You see, Scully and I aren't from here, from the Realm. We come from another...place." Hannu looked startled for a moment, then smiled faintly, as though something had suddenly come clear. He nodded. "That does explain some things. Where do you come from?" Mulder swallowed, for all of his experience in spouting out odd ideas, this one was harder than most. "Ummm, I'm not exactly sure how to explain this. We came here by accident, in a way I can't really explain. We're literally not of this world, not of this universe, in fact." Hannu's entire body jerked, his eyes widening in shock. But what made Mulder stop speaking wasn't the shock he could see in the other Mage's strong face, it was the arrow-bolt of anguish that flew across those usually tightly controlled features. Mulder paused, and looked to Scully who stretched out her left hand towards Hannu. "Are you all right?" she asked gently. Hannu started, turning glistening eyes towards her. His jaw worked, then the shield fell down into place. The only remaining sign of his distress was a faint gleam in his eyes, but the remainder of his bearing was abruptly under control. "I am fine. Hmmm...how long have you been in the Realm?" //I wonder what he's hiding,\\ Mulder thought to Scully, even as he leaned forward to reply, his own face bland. "This time, for a few months. We were here once before, for a period of close to a year. We returned home for a while, then came back. We've got maybe another couple of months, then we'll have to return home." That really startled Hannu. "You can travel between worlds at will?" he demanded, something unrecognizable sparking in his eyes. "Sort of," Scully replied. "But it is difficult, and requires a lot of energy. The Professor, Reinald, and Mulder can manage it, but only with a lot of preparation. The timing is the biggest concern. Time passes differently here as compared to our world, which can cause a great deal of trouble if it is not handled properly." The only sign of Hannu's effort to maintain control was the slow clenching and unclenching of his hand, curling against his knee. He was silent for a moment, then focused hard on the concerns of the moment. "So you came here as adults?" They both nodded. He sighed with frustrated understanding. "And you came from a world that obviously does not use Mage-energy as we do, probably with a half-formed bond between you. Gods, this is a true mess. But you've obviously had some training in the use of your ability. You shield well, and you focus far better than most. It took fine-tuned control to break the second test barrier coming here." Mulder took the compliment surprisingly well, mostly just ignoring it. "Reinald taught me as much as he could, as quickly as he could. That was at the time of the invasion of the Dark Creatures...." Understanding flashed in Hannu's eyes. "Of course," he muttered, finally placing the memory that had made these two seem strangely familiar. He had stayed isolated from events in the Realm for many long years, but word of that conflict had eked through even to here. He had heard gossip and half-formed rumors, apparently exaggerated out of proportion, and had dismissed them as such. Obviously, that had been a mistake. Perhaps he *had* been out of touch for too long, but.... That was a concern for another time. Hannu leaned back in his chair. "No wonder your bond is out of control. Both the validation of the lifebond and the Mage- Companion joining require long periods of preparation and proper activation. Gods, it has been many, many years since I have seen such a bond. They were rare, even when I was young. Now, they are apparently unknown. Or were..." He sighed softly. "How did you get the rings?" "King Andalor gave them to us as a gift. He said the stones were ancient and apparently magical, though no one knew what kind of spell was on them, except that it was benign." Hannu's jaw set angrily. "Idiots! Playing around with things they do not understand. To take such a chance with an unknown magical spell..." "Reinald checked to make sure that there was no stain of Black Magic about the rings, and the magical energy on them was extremely faint," Mulder protested. "I felt for it myself, and it was only barely there." "Of course there wasn't much there, the spell is quiescent in the absence of a Mage-bond to activate it! And it has probably been hundreds of years since they have been in contact with anyone with the gifts to use them properly. Gods!" Hannu swore again. "Look at the rings now," he ordered, slicing the air with his hand. "Look!" Mulder looked down at the band of gold decorating his right hand, the sapphire blinking warmly at him. Eyelids half- closing in concentration, he focused the Mage-sight, *seeing* with his magical sensitivity rather than physical vision, and he gasped suddenly, jerking his head away and instinctively throwing up a hand to protect his eyes. Blinding blue light, raging power, the bright sapphire stone like a living entity on his hand, entwined deeply with his own aura. He didn't need to turn his head to look at Scully's ring, the trail of white light winding from his hand to hers, from his ring to hers, was burned into his retinas. He could feel it as well, like a steel cable binding them together. Had it always been there and he'd just not chanced to look? Dear God... Slowly forcing the power down, he could feel Scully's worry beating at the edges of his mind. "I'm all right," he told her both aloud and within the sanctity of their mind-link. "I'm okay, it just took me by surprise." He let her see the image that had seared its way into his memory, and heard her gasp in response. Finally opening his eyes and lowering his arm, he blinked at Hannu. "So what do we do about it?" he asked bluntly, seizing on the bottom line. "As much as I love being close to Scully, this is getting ridiculous! We can't live like this!" Hannu frowned, rubbing at his chin, then shrugged. "We teach you what you should have learned in the first place. The problem is that we're first going to have to break the bad habits you've already formed." - - - - - Breaking bad habits was far easier said than done. They had found immediately that the rings could not be removed from their hands. Every attempt to do so caused a sense of vertigo so fierce that they both doubled over in agony. Even when Hannu tried to force the rings off, they wouldn't give way, the gold burning so hotly that he couldn't touch it for more than a second without searing his skin. Giving that up as a lost cause, he had turned relentlessly towards separating them. Mulder and Scully had both instinctively balked, but the experienced Mage was adamant and they both desperately wanted a solution. Easing themselves apart a little at a time was as good a place to start as any, and Hannu *sounded* like he knew what he was doing. Even so, it was a disaster. Hannu had to forcibly pull their hands apart. They tried to release each other, but the muscles wouldn't obey the mental command. It was the oddest feeling, almost as though their flesh was literally glued together. And when Hannu finally managed to get them separated, the urge to reach for each other was blinding in its intensity. Mulder groaned aloud with the agony of it, feeling as though his soul was being torn apart. Scully whimpered softly, biting down so hard on her lower lip that she broke the skin. The sight of the small red droplet forming on her lip was more than Mulder could stand, and he broke free of Hannu's grip with a sudden surge of strength. Scully was in his arms a heartbeat later, her hands clutching at his cloak. She wriggled against him as though trying to burrow her way through his clothes and into his flesh. Their minds merged with the touch of his mouth on hers, and they were falling into a boundless sea of desire... "STOP!" The single word made the ground beneath them shake, and they parted to look up at the source of the sound. Hannu was glaring at them angrily, and Scully felt her cheeks burn with a rising flush. Mulder only squeezed her tighter, but she could read his embarrassment even without touching it in his thoughts. "Again!" Hannu commanded sharply, in a tone that brooked no argument. Yet they couldn't part on their own, he had to peel their arms away, forcing them into chairs facing each other. "Don't move!" he commanded, and they sat facing each other for a few endless seconds, until the urge became too powerful and they were tumbling into each other's grasp yet again. Hannu pulled them apart, time after time, the result always the same. And the length of time they could stay separated shortened instead of lengthened, until they were screaming at him when he tried to break them free of each other, the outside world raging with Mulder's fury. Finally, Hannu let them go, stepping back with a long- suffering sigh of frustration. The thunderstorm booming outside the small cottage eased off slowly, as the lovers clung, soothing each other with kisses and tender caresses. Finally the storm passed, inside and out, and they slowly turned to face him. "I'm sorry," Mulder said. "I...You can't know what it's like. It hurts so much..." "Of course it hurts!" Hannu replied abruptly. He paused, and drew in a deep breath. "This is worse than I thought." Still clinging to Mulder, Scully looked up anxiously at him. "What do you mean?" Hannu rubbed gingerly at the back of his neck, then met her gaze gravely. "I should have realized it would be like this." He searched for the words to explain, his hand weaving through the air. "The bond between you is made up of energy, and the amount of power it consumes is less the closer you are together. So, naturally, you conserve that expenditure of energy by being closer. The more often you do that, the more comfortable it becomes, the more difficult it is to stay apart. Like the difference between standing upright and lying down. If you do not use the muscles that support you, they decay until they no longer *can* support you. The spell on the stones was like a catalyst, increasing the amount of energy involved to the point that you couldn't control it. The closer you are, the better it feels - the very pleasure of the contact can act like a drug, and it can easily become habit-forming. I'm afraid that due to the influence of the misused joining spell, it's done exactly that; you've become literally addicted to each other." "Addicted?" Mulder repeated, stunned. "No..." he tried to deny it, but the accusation made a great deal of sense. Even so... "I don't understand," Scully said, her blue eyes wide with shock. Hannu stared sadly at her. "I think you do, Healer Scully. You know the symptoms better than I." She shook her head, but the expression on her face, horrified and somehow accepting, told him that she did indeed see the truth of it. "Oh God, no," she whispered. "But...what can we do? I can't imagine ever living without Mulder." Her voice hardened to forged steel. "I won't live without him." "I wouldn't ask it of you," Hannu replied. "But you cannot go on as you are now, either." "So what do we do?" Mulder demanded roughly. "We break you cold. That's the only way to remove the rings and break the joining spell's influence. Once that is done, we can begin again. Out of the rings' influence, you'll be able to control your bond, and then I can teach you how to activate and use the joining spell properly. It will be not be easy," Hannu said. "It might not work at all, but it's the only possible option." "How?" Mulder responded, not liking the sound of this at all. Hannu nodded. "We're going to have to separate you completely, out of sight of each other. When you are able to remove the rings, I'll be able to shut down the spell. Then you should be able to think and act sensibly in each other's absence and we can begin proper training." Scully swallowed hard, then nodded, though her hands were digging painfully into Mulder's arms. "I think he's right, Mulder," she allowed, hating the fear that echoed through her voice. //Scully, are you sure?\\ Mulder asked, his thoughts tumbling around her, terror arching up through his spine. She looked up into his eyes, marveling yet again at the beauty of those multi-faceted orbs, the depths of his soul clear for her to see. //Yes, love. We've got to do it...but...\\ She didn't need to say it, the anguish they both felt was a shared wound. Mulder leaned down to kiss her forehead, breathing in the scent of her deeply, imprinting it upon his senses, then he turned towards Hannu. "All right, let's do it." - - - - - Shannon didn't like this at all. Even though Mulder and Scully had explained it to her, insisting that she do exactly as Hannu asked, no matter what happened, she was miserable. It had taken every ounce of strength she and Jhorgab had to drag Scully into Jasta's cottage, and the woman's screams still rang piercingly in her ears. Scully was in one of her silent periods now, curled up in the corner of the room in a shaking ball, red hair falling in a wild tangle around her face and arms. She was rocking back and forth in a fetal position, knees hugged into her chest. Shannon felt her stomach turn upside down every time she looked at her, but this was at least better than the previous violent rage. The last outburst had been the worst. Shannon feared that she might be unable to prevent Scully from hurting herself, or someone else. Already, the woman had thrown herself at the door so hard that the entire building shook with the impact, but she hadn't even noticed the pain. Instead, she'd cried out in pure frustration, blue eyes as wild as a hurricane at sea, a searing aqua fire that burned Shannon when it touched her. The girl had desperately wanted to avoid hurting Scully, but the petite woman was a trained fighter, and she'd gone berserk, clawing at anyone who tried to touch her, tossing any object she could lift at the walls in an attempt to break through. The only sensible word that emanated from her mouth was "Mulder" and that wailed with such sheer anguish that it tore Shannon's heart open. Scully had finally collapsed out of sheer exhaustion, curling up in a corner to sob and shiver. It had been merely three candlemarks now, and Shannon didn't think she could take much more of this. Jhorgab kept wandering from Shannon to Hannu and back again, his small stature somehow seeming even more diminished, his yellow eyes dimmed to a pale amber. Every time he approached, Shannon would gaze at him with hope, and he would sadly shake his head. The elements themselves raged, the sky above boiling in pale reflection of Scully's eyes, the ground itself seeming to tremble beneath their feet. Hannu was struggling to contain Mulder, but Jhorgab was terrified that the ancient Mage's shield might not hold. The little troll was frightened even to peek in the window of Hannu's cottage, the small dwelling alive with Mage-energy. The power swirled and foamed around the two men, strands of energy so intense that even the magic-insensitive troll could see them clearly. Mulder was aglow, sparks flying from every inch of his skin, lightning bolts flashing from his hands, only to be absorbed into the golden shield Hannu had constructed around him. How it could continue to hold, Jhorgab didn't know, and he could see the strain beginning to tell on Hannu. The Mage was leaning against the door, his fists clenched, his eyes closed, veins pounding beneath the surface of his flesh. So much power... and it pounded at the shield, battering with Mulder's fury, a force raging almost beyond comprehension. Something was going to break soon, and when it did...Jhorgab could only pray he wouldn't be in its path. - - - - - Mulder couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel. And what he felt was a loss so deep that it roared within him, an ache that could never be satisfied, a need so intense that it poured though his veins like liquid fire, searing his flesh with all the agony of hell itself. He'd nearly lost Scully before, and the pain of that was magnified a million times now; for he had now what he hadn't then - the actuality of their love. She was a part of him, an integral, inseparable half of his soul, and without her, he was incomplete, shattered, broken. He leaned his head back and howled his anguish at the ceiling, screaming until his throat was raw, his lungs were empty, his body starved for oxygen. And still he cried, a river of tears streaming unheeded down his cheeks, his hands clenched into fists so tight that he had gouged bloody wounds into his palms. And still he raged, Mage-power boiling helplessly around him, shooting electric shocks up and down every nerve in his body, turning the air around him into a thick blue soup. And still he fought, drawing in every ounce of energy, focusing every remnant of his will, into one, last, powerful thrust. Drawing in one painful gulp of air, he sucked it all in, every strand of power and need and anger and desperation he had, and wrapping it all up into one single, extraordinary force, he released it all at once. The world exploded in a ball of living fire so intense it rivaled the sun itself. Mulder's eyes were blinded, but he didn't need to see. He felt through senses so acute they trembled with the movement of the air itself. The barrier trapping him shimmered, held...then broke with a deafening clap of thunder. Hannu was lifted off his feet and tossed like a feather on the wind across the room. He struck the wall hard, and then dropped, barely conscious to the floor. Mulder was off, faster than a startled deer, through the door and across the road, faster than he'd ever run in his life. The door to Jasta's cottage was hardly a barrier, he blasted it open with his mind, bursting through the opening, his entire being focused on only one thing. She met him before he'd taken two steps into the room, hurdling into him so suddenly that she tumbled them both to the ground. He didn't care, she was in his arms, her hands scurrying up and down the length of his body like writhing serpents. His arms enclosed her in an iron cage, tangling his fingers into her hair and forcing her mouth to his. The kiss was brutal, grinding, bruising -- exhilarating. She moaned into his throat, clawing at his back, tangling fingers into his hair, nearly tearing it free of his scalp as she clutched at the dark silken strands. //DANA!\\ The shout of her name was the only sensible thought that could escape his mind, the rest was lost in a waterfall of irrational sensation. He ripped at her clothes, never removing his mouth from hers, caught in a frenzy of blind lust. His need blasted away any veneer of civilization and she responded with equal animalistic fury, hissing as she rubbed her body against his. Wrapping her legs around one of his, she rutted against the solidity of his thigh, keening her frustration at the barriers of cloth and leather that separated skin from skin. He was already tearing her tunic away, growling low in his throat as the fabric ripped free, leaving only a thin silk shirt between her and his needy hands. That was gone with one violent motion, and then he was upon her, his mouth never leaving hers, his hands taking possession of her breasts and belly and sides, kneading her, stroking her, gripping her with brutal strength. Her head tossed back, laying on the floor amid the fiery pillow of her hair, her voice rising above them, beating at his senses like a hammer against an anvil, molten silver, inflaming him. Answering her with a low bass rumble, thunderous, beating like the drumbeat of a heavy-metal band, he ground his hips into hers, his aching cock straining against the confines of his pants, feeling the heat of her body through their clothes. She tore at his robe, nearly strangling him before she could toss it aside, but he never faltered, never missed a beat. Ravishing her mouth again with hard slashing strokes of his tongue, clashing his teeth against hers, he tugged at her belt, yanking it open, then pulling her pants down as far as he could reach. Her hips arched upwards, an offering to him, wanton and desperate, even as she fumbled for his own pants, hissing again into his lungs, as she struggled with the buckle. He moved to help her, burying his face between her breasts, as he reared up onto his knees. Together, they managed to get his pants down just enough to free his straining genitals, and she closed her hand upon him with a feral cry of satisfaction. His own groan swallowed against her sweaty skin, he bucked down into her grasp, every ounce of blood in his body rushing downward in response to her demanding touch. Suddenly lightheaded, eyes unable to see anything but a starfield of blazing light, he slid back down upon her. One hand still holding his cock, squeezing, thumb pressing down into the tip, forcing a muffled scream from his lip, she dug her other hand into his ass. Her legs spread, her hips rotated upwards, she demanded him with every ragged breath that escaped her swollen mouth and every pulse of her heartbeat. She was a furnace below him, radiating waves of fire, her skin searing his. She was living flame and desire and female in a way that he'd never imagined anyone could be. She was primal and feral and demanding, tearing at his heart and soul. She was his mate, and he was hers, and nothing mattered in the universe except that he possess her totally and completely, then and there, time standing still as he strained for her, guided by her, and found her so ready for him that the slide into her body was like falling into a hot scented bath. The sensation as he plunged down into her was cataclysmic, every nerve ending in her body exploded at once. She shrieked her satisfaction to a blind universe, eyes clamped shut, hands clawing at his back, scraping his skin violently. He was hard and strong and male, filling every crevice of her being. He was savage and fierce and magnificent, taking possession of her, hands holding her roughly as he plunged in and out of her in a dance as old as life itself. He was her mate, and she was his, and nothing mattered but this moment, the feel of his hands on her body, his mouth tearing at her breasts, his maleness thrusting forcibly into the yawning cavern in her belly. She drew bloody streaks down his back, he drove her mindlessly into the floor. He growled low in his throat, she keened her satisfaction high. Their mouths tangled, their tongues dueled, their hips rocked...until she wrapped arms and legs around him and squeezed tighter than a boa constrictor around its prey and pushed them both towards the edge of the volcano. He fought back, rising from her, then shoving deep one last time, exploding within her, toppling them both into a consuming blaze that ate away their awareness and left them floating in dark oblivion. - - - - - The battle continued past the night and long into the following day. Hannu threw everything he had into confining Mulder, but the enraged younger Mage broke through twice more before Hannu was able to devise a series of spells that would stop him before he could reach his bondmate. It wasn't a matter of magical strength, for Hannu had learned the hard way that Mulder could easily overpower him; instead it was the long decades of experience which he had had to fall back on, and in the end it was just - barely - enough. Drawing on every last vestige of power he had, Hannu devised a concentric ring of barriers around Mulder, including a powerful sleep spell which increased in strength the further Mulder got from Hannu's cottage. That took its toll, Mulder dropping from his feet to crawl on his knees, then down to pull himself like a lizard along the ground, desperately fighting unconsciousness, obstinately shaking aside anything but the insistent, blinding need to reach Scully, until he collapsed across the dusty roadway, hands still clawing at the ground as though they alone could carry him towards her. Hannu picked Mulder up gently, bringing him back inside to lay him gently on the couch. The ring still blazed on his finger, and Hannu's brief attempt to touch it made him leap back with singed fingers. Still the spell held, fed by Mulder's own emotions, a bottomless pit of loss and loneliness that waited in his nightmares, held at bay only by the touch of Scully's love. Mulder moaned and shifted, struggling even in his sleep, and Hannu held him still with surprising tenderness...understanding engraved in his sorrowing eyes. - - - - - Shannon was getting desperate. She'd been forced to restrain Scully, binding her wrists and ankles to keep her confined to the bed. The woman raged senselessly, alternating between bouts of heartwrenching sobs and feral cries. Shannon had done all she could to soothe her, talking for hours on end, about everything and anything. Yet, nothing penetrated the haze of loss and anger in Scully's shattered blue eyes. Dirty and tear-streaked, bruises purpling her entire body, she strained against the cloth ropes holding her down, rubbing her wrists raw. Throughout it all, the ring on her finger blazed an unearthly light, throwing blue sparks every time she moved, burning white-hot to the touch. Hannu had told them the key was removing the rings, but every attempt ended up in little more than scorched fingers. Until, finally, Shannon had had enough. Scully was tossing and turning wildly, hair a wild red tangle, through which she snarled like a woodscat. Grime streaked her cheeks, and lips were swollen and bleeding. She convulsed like an epileptic in a fit, and Shannon's own eyes were swimming in tears. This couldn't go on any longer. It had to stop now. Closing her eyes and offering a prayer to any and all gods that might be listening, Shannon grabbed for the gleaming ring. Her fingers closed on gold so hot it should have melted in her palm, her skin burned, pain searing its way up her nerves in a silent scream. She bit down on her own lip so hard it broke and bled, but she would -- not -- let go. Yanking with every ounce of strength she had in her slender body, she pulled on the ring. "Shannon, NO!!" Jhorgab screamed the moment he realized what she was doing, but she would not be stopped. "Come off, damn you!" she shouted, as she felt the ring resist, snagging itself on Scully's knuckle. Shannon twisted and tugged, pulled, and demanded, working it free inch by agonizing inch. Her hand felt like she was bathing it in pure fire, the skin charring, muscle and nerve searing, but she refused to stop. Jhorgab seized her shoulders, trying to draw her away, but she took hold of that small circle of bespelled gold and glued her fingers to it. Jhorgab pulled at her, she pulled at the ring, and suddenly...together...accompanied by a horrific keening cry from Scully, the ring came free and they collapsed to the floor. The ring tumbled out of Shannon's hand, clanking softly to the floor. It rolled away towards the door, spun on end, then fell silent and cold. Shannon curled up around her wounded hand, clutching it to her chest, finally releasing the wracking sobs of anguish that had been building within her for hours. Giving the now quiescent ring a fearful, suspicious glance, Jhorgab crawled over to Shannon and wrapped his stocky arms around her. Jasta had been staying as far out of the way as possible, but now she ran forward, kneeling down beside them. "Easy, child, let me see your hand," she said firmly. Shannon ignored her at first, curling up into Jhorgab's embrace, but the elf matron was insistent. Peeling the girl's arms apart, she took hold of Shannon's wrist. Shannon couldn't bear to look, her eyes squeezed shut as she breathed out her tears. Jasta slowly and carefully unfurled Shannon's fingers, one by one, eliciting gasps of pain with each one, then suddenly she froze. Jhorgab looked over the top of Shannon's dark head, startled to find Jasta staring at Shannon's hand with shock etched into her elven features. The troll's face screwed up in horror, barely finding the strength to look down himself...and then he gasped aloud. "Shannon -- LOOK!" he shouted, his entire body shaking. "Look at your hand." "No...no," Shannon sobbed, but Jhorgab shoved her around. "Look, you're not really hurt!" "Wha -- " She blinked up at him through a liquid curtain to find him grinning toothily at her. His ears were bobbing excitedly. "Jhorgab," she stammered. "I ccccan feel it..." Slowly she angled her head down, peering through the corner of her eye, waiting to see the burnt seared flesh... and found... Clear, clean skin, unmarred, untouched. Her fingers flexed instinctively, and the pain abruptly receded. Her hand still cradled in Jasta's two, she closed it into a fist, the opened it up and turned it over. Not so much as the slightest reddening remained to mark the contact with the bespelled ring. - - - - - Mulder suddenly convulsed in Hannu's grip. The elder Mage released him, instinctively gathering strength to support his shields, but Mulder simply doubled over then collapsed, limply, long arms and legs dangling off the edge of the cushions. The right hand, burdened with the ring swung gently against the floor, and for the first time, Hannu could look directly at it without needing to protect his eyes. Falling to his knees beside the unconscious man, Hannu reached out first with his Mage-senses, and was startled to find the ring dim -- still gleaming with power -- but dulled and murky. Gingerly, prepared to be stung, Hannu tapped it with his forefinger. A slight electric spark jolted him. He yanked his hand back, then steeling himself, tried again. This time he was able to take hold of it. His breath catching in his lungs, almost unable to hope that this was over, he slowly drew up the length of Mulder's elegant finger. Easy...easy...he thought to himself, just a little more...and then...at last! The thick circle of gold came free in his hand, and he fell backwards onto the ground with a chortle of relief. Curling his fingers around the quickly cooling metal, he forced himself to cast one more spell, encasing the ring in a protective barrier, then exhausted, he closed his eyes, sprawled out on the floor, and slept. - - - - - Every bone, each knot of muscle and sinew ached. Not the joyous ache that came from vigorous exercise or the aftermath of lovemaking, but rather a grating, pounding ache that spoke of bitter violence. He felt ravaged, torn apart, the strain of lifting his eyelids and focusing his eyes on the waiting daylight almost too much to bear. He tried to groan and his raw parched throat protested, shooting yet another arrow of pain to his overburdened mind. "Mage Mulder?" a worried voice asked, and he blinked, trying to bring the green blur into focus. Shifting up on his elbows, his body creaked and a low moan settled in his chest, whistling past dry cracked lips. "No, lie still," the voice said again, too loud. He winced, shut his eyes, then tried again to open them. Blinking, he forced out a couple more tears from nearly drained ducts, and the haze began to clear. Swimming in front of his eyes was the heavy-browed face of a troll. A troll? Mulder jerked up, only to find large hands pushing his shoulders down, and an incessant chatter rippling past his ears. "Now, now, you must rest. The worst is over, for Shannon broke the spell you were under. By the Gods, such a terrible spell. I have never seen the like. I thought it would burn Shannon's hand right off, and then, when it was done, why there wasn't even a mark upon her. I can not believe it, but it is so. I am so very relieved of course..." Recognition struck, and Mulder tried to push out the name. Licking at his lips, he swallowed hard, then rasped harshly. "Jhorg...gaaa..." "Yes, it is I, Mage Mulder. But do not speak now. Be still. Scully is..." Mulder's entire body tensed...Scully! Memory flickered back, and though it was confused, images jumbled, broken, fragmented and out of place, he remembered enough to make his stomach boil. "Ssscccuuulllleeeee," he demanded, repeating it over and over again, hearing his voice crack and whine, sliding up and down the scale as he tried to communicate his need. His so desperate need. Another voice spoke down above him, this one deep and certain. "She is well. Sore and exhausted, as you are, but she will be fine. Can you reach her now?" Sense was hard to reach for, but Mulder had been born with more than his share of pure stubbornness. Fighting the waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm him, he concentrated with all of his remaining rags of energy. Reach Scully? If only he could... //MULDER!!!\\ The cry of her mind-voice reverberated through his skull, making him wince in pain, making his heart skip a beat within his chest. He grabbed for her, feeling the psychic muscle pull with disuse, she was *so* far away. But she was there, tendrils of her thoughts frantic as they stretched towards him, demanding contact. Yes, he could almost...touch her...and suddenly he felt a breeze stir in his mind, carrying with it her scent. His hands clenched in front of him, reaching out...he could smell her, taste her fragrance on his breath. //SCULLY!!\\ he cried, and then she was there, enveloping him in her warmth. Her mind was unsteady, worn, the mindlink frayed and weak, but it was there, and it was real. "Oh God, Scully," he sobbed aloud, his eyes burning. //Mulder....\\ came the whisper of a response, and he forced what little strength he had left into the wave of love that built from his belly and washed up and outward, through the damaged link, to bathe her mind. A backwash brought the reassurance of her love, then like a receding tide, slowly began to fade. "Scully," he moaned, trying to reach for her again, but he didn't have the strength. Strong hands supported him, and insensible words of comfort surrounded him. But the link had faded, and he didn't even have the energy to close his eyes. He remained there, staring blindly at the ceiling, until he tumbled back into blessed unconsciousness. - - - - - Scully moaned as she came awake. Her first instinct was to reach for Mulder, and when she could not find his body close to hers, a sudden jolt of fear brought her to full awareness. Blinking, she sat up, only to gasp with pain. Her body felt like it had been run over by a truck. "Hey, take it easy," came a warm voice in her ear. Scully turned, drawing in a sharp breath as her body protested the sudden motion, and found Shannon watching her. The girl's amber eyes were bruised and swollen, red-lined and sallow. Scully's discomfort spread from body to mind, as she grappled with her uncertain memory, trying to recall what had happened. What little she did remember did not ease her mind. "Mulder..." she croaked, rubbing at her own sore eyes as she tried to focus on her surroundings. "He's all right. Well, he's a bit bruised and worn out, but he'll survive." Shannon forced a smile at her. Hesitantly tapping Scully's shoulder, she asked cautiously. "What about you? How do you feel?" "Like someone dropped me out of a fifth floor window," Scully replied wryly. Her wrists felt like they had been dipped in fire, and she brought up one arm to look, gasping aloud as she saw the deep-grooved channel that had been dug into her flesh. Dried blood was flaked around the purpling bruises, circling her wrist like a bracelet or... She looked up sharply at Shannon and the girl's face exploded with anguish. "I didn't know what to do! Hannu said we couldn't let you two together until we got the rings off you. But the rings burned anyone who tried to touch them, and you just kept screaming and trying to get to Mulder. I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself or someone else, Scully. I swear, I'd never have done it otherwise." Shannon's swollen eyes screwed up again, tears welling in the corners, and Scully instinctively reached out to reassure her. "It's okay. I know you'd never try to hurt me. If you did this, it was necessary." Even as she spoke, she glanced down at her hand, relief washing over her as she found the ring absent from her hand. Doing a quick internal check, she found that most of her injuries were surface. Painful, but easy to heal, and while she could feel Mulder's absence like a black hole in the pit of her belly, it was controllable. She wanted to see him, to be sure he was all right, but she could hold on long enough to gain her bearings. Shannon was biting back her tears now, the faintest of a smile breaking out on her lips. Scully smiled at her, though the gesture made her battered lips crack. She licked at them, then tried to smile again. She had control, dear blessed Mary, Mother of God, she had control. Shannon returned the smile, more fully, and then they flew into each other's arms. Scully hugged the girl tightly, stroking the waterfall of dark hair gently. "It's all right now, Shannon. Everything is going to be all right." - - - - - Hannu was a hard taskmaster, but Mulder and Scully were ready to meet his demands. Separated until he was satisfied with their control, they struggled with the lifebond, fighting to manipulate the connection between their minds. They learned to see through the other's eyes, and then to close the bond off to complete silence. And all the levels inbetween, tuning from words to images to concepts; from sight to sound to smell. They found that one could lead the other blindfolded through an obstacle course, without a single misstep. Mulder learned to focus his power through Scully, to cast a spell from across the village, extending the energy through her like light through a prism. He traveled with her into the body of a wounded elf, watching through her eyes, feeling the cells grow and move at her/their/his command. But the hardest lesson of all was learning to shut the bond down, to close off their sense for each other and stand alone within their own minds. Only when they could hold themselves separate for hours at a time, was Hannu satisfied enough to let them come together. Mulder swept Scully up into his arms, breathing in the scent of her. Even the deepest contact of their minds couldn't rival this sensation, the silk of her hair on his hands, the heat of her skin against his. The purr of her voice in his ears. "I love you," he whispered, laughter bubbling up in his throat. The sound was unexpected, so joyous, she couldn't help but respond in kind. Giving him a smile the sun itself would have envied for its warmth, she pressed herself against him, loving him with her brilliant aqua gaze. They hugged tightly, unwilling to pull apart, but Hannu cleared his throat harshly, reminding them they were not alone. They turned to him, both grinning warmly. He gave them a disapproving glare, but his eyes twinkled lightly. "Congratulations! You've both done well. But there is one last thing to do." He extended his hand, uncurling his fist to show them the rings, nestled together in his palm. "After all the trouble they've caused us, maybe we should just do without the rings. I don't see how they can help us, anyway." Mulder said, staring at the two small gold circles as though they were poisonous snakes ready to strike. Scully nodded agreement, no more willing than he was to even come close to the innocuous-looking jewelry. Hannu sighed, shaking his head. "They caused you trouble because you failed to use them properly. And because you didn't have the right training. You've learned how to manage your bond, yes, but the rings will allow you much tighter control and greater range. They are simply tools, the question is your ability to utilize them." Scully responded grudgingly. "I don't see why we need more than we have. What we can do now -- it's simply amazing." "Perhaps so, but what happens the next time Mulder gets really angry, or is required by circumstance to use his full Mage- strength? You have managed to walk with him through small spells, but do you think you can handle another outburst like the one you described in Fawnleaf? You *must* be able to bring him down, to shield him and yourself from the power. It is possible you could manage it without the aid of the stones, but they will make it far easier. Would you refuse a valuable tool simply because it is difficult to use?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances. //What do you think?\\ he asked. //I don't like being near those things,\\ Scully replied, then her eyes darkened. //But he does have a point. With the problems in the Realm right now, I'm not sure we can turn down anything that might help.\\ Mulder rubbed at his chin, his mind racing. //I think we ought to give it a try. Most spells can be dangerous if they are misused, even the simplest ones. As long as we are in control of the rings, rather than letting them take control of us, we should be able to handle this.\\ She nodded, drawing in a deep breath and they both turned back to Hannu. "How does this work?" Hannu smiled brightly, approval softening his dark features. "First, you will each need to imprint a stone with your will. They had been keyed to another Mage and his Companion, which is partially why you had so much difficulty with them. I have negated the original mindpatterns, leaving essentially a blank slate. Now you must bend the joining spell to your own thought structure." "How?" Mulder asked intently. Hannu frowned, struggling to find a clearer explanation. "Every individual mind is different, unique. The thought structure is specific, the strength of the will, the touch of the personality. You must show the ring who you are, take it into yourself, then bend it to your own needs." He separated the rings, one into each hand, and held them out to Mulder and Scully. They glanced at each other, drawing support from the other's presence, then warily moved forward to take a ring. Mulder hefted the thick gold band in the palm of his left hand, cautiously studying the large oval-shaped sapphire. It blinked at him, like a small blue eye, quiet and apparently innocuous in his grasp. Scully was doing the same with hers, gazing intently at the honey-colored tiger's eye, resting in its gentle golden frame. Simultaneously, they both looked up to Hannu and he nodded firmly at them. Drawing in a deep breath, Mulder closed his eyes and focused his Mage-sight at the ring. He could see the strands of power woven into the metal, but they were thin, undirected. He concentrated on them, and they flared up, leaching onto his aura. As he focused on them, he could faintly hear Hannu's voice on the edge of his awareness, speaking with clear certainty. "Focus on it, make it respond to you. Control it..." Gritting his teeth Mulder took hold of those silvery strands of energy and wove them into shimmering braids with tendrils of his own aura. The braids wavered, twining around both the gold of the ring and his fingers, wriggling like worms on concrete. Grounding himself firmly, he pushed at those silver-blue coils and wound them around the ring, melding them into the gold, weaving a net around the stone. As soon as he began to push, they seemed to fall into place, something clicking in his mind, like a key fitting into a lock. The spell took hold, easing into connection with his mind, and he suddenly *knew* how to use it. Slipping the ring around his finger, he turned to Scully, finding her mimicking his motions. The strands around her ring were green and gold, and when she held her hand up to meet his, they wavered like ivy vines in the wind, reaching out for him. Their hands met with a visible spark, and their link snapped into awareness. Blue strands met green, twining around each other, melding into one long cord of light and energy. But this time it was under their willful control. Together they broadened the connection, then lengthened it, then thinned it to less than the size of a single hair in diameter. They drew their hands apart, and the bond stretched with them. It resisted, and they forced it to comply. It pulled, and they pushed, and won. It acquiesced with a blaze of sparks, easing from steel to elastic, letting them move apart and back together as they chose. Both laughed aloud, watching it glitter between their hands, then Mulder reached for his shield and slowly closed down his Mage-sight. When their eyes opened again to the visible world, the link was no longer visible, yet both could still feel it between them. They turned to Hannu and he smiled with satisfaction. "Well done! Well done indeed. Now, at last, you can begin to learn how to use them properly. After lunch we will start the next lesson." Mulder looked at Scully, she gazed up at him, and together they groaned aloud. End of Chapter Nineteen THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty Their final lesson over, Mulder and Scully sat across from one another at Hannu's table, tired but happy. The ordeal of breaking the bond-spell followed Hannu's lessons had given them the physical and emotional trial of their lives. But they had come through it, healthier in body and mind than they had ever been before. Jasta moved at the hearth, fixing their noon meal with a grace and ease of movement which belied her advanced years. Watching her, the auburn-haired warrior wondered once more about the friendly but unusual village. When the little elf had departed from the cottage after serving, Scully decided to satisfy her curiosity. With a smile she said, "I remember asking you about the villagers when we first arrived. Are you willing to tell us more now?" Hannu returned her smile somewhat ruefully. "I was not particularly cooperative, as I recall. Well, I will tell you what I can. Their stories belong to only them, of course. It would not be proper for me to tell you their stories without their permission. I'll tell you what I believe is appropriate. If I cannot satisfy all your questions, you may ask the villagers. I believe most would be willing to share their stories. You'll find them friendly and as curious about you as you are about them. As you can imagine, we don't get many visitors. Nor do we encourage them. But once you are here, you are one of us. "Montveil is a place of refuge. All of the beings here, or at least their ancestors, came here looking for peace, a safe harbor that existed nowhere else." He anticipated Mulder's question. "Yes, I know. Except for recent history starting with the invasion of the Dark Creatures, it appears we have enjoyed a peaceful, well-ordered existence. But there doesn't have to be war for beings to long for...a higher plane of existence, if you will. Here we have freedom from politics and the commercialism of the towns and larger villages. We have all chosen to set ourselves apart." Mulder nodded. "That's why there aren't any roads wide enough for traders' wagons. In fact, why you don't have any wagons in this village." "Precisely. Nothing needs to be carried anywhere. Our needs are few, and we produce enough to fill those needs ourselves. In years of bad harvest, I use my talents to make sure there is enough for all. And it isn't just the traders, with their preoccupation with business. We have freedom here from family expectations, arranged marriages, even the dictates of our auras if we so choose. We don't seek news of the outside world, and we don't want its influence. We merely wish to be left alone, to be able to spend our lives in contemplation, and in the some cases, to heal ourselves of wounds inflicted by the world." "Is there a common belief system?" asked Scully, fascinated. "You have so many species here, it's hard to imagine everyone would hold similar beliefs." "The only commonality is a deep love of personal freedom, including freedom from the rigid etiquette and ritual of the Realm. Our only tenet is to do no harm to another being's right to be as he or she wishes." "Are they free to leave?" Hannu nodded. "A few have left. When they have gained the inner peace they sought and feel ready to rejoin the world, they move on. Most don't, finding the outside world has nothing to offer them any longer. They have what they need here." "But...don't you worry about security? I mean, what stops those who leave from telling everyone about this place?" Scully queried. The Mage shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. No one has left in a very long time, certainly not since I came here. As far as I know, no one is even thinking about it. We remain secure. I like to think that it is because those who left so valued their time here that they would not want to jeopardize it for those who remain. Of course, " he admitted wryly, "it could also be that the village doesn't offer enough financial or political gain to motivate anyone to seek us out." Mulder looked at his host appraisingly, trying to determine if his question would upset the relationship they had been building with this man in the course of their lessons. "And why did you come here?" he asked softly. Hannu considered the question. "The elves have a saying. 'How can I wear clothing when you have been naked before me?' The details surrounding my coming here are still painful, even after season-cycles of trying to come to terms with it. But I have seen your pain, it is your right to see mine. "At the climax of the battle with the Black Mage, forces of incredible power were released. Neither of us was holding anything back, neither of us was considering safety or anything besides the total annihilation of the other. Something...happened. I don't know what, nor, I suspect, does my enemy. Everything became a whirlwind of color and then suddenly, I was consumed by blackness. "When I awoke, I realized I was somewhere else. A world of wonder, but also of chaos and darkness and eye-burning brightness. A frightening place, a place that might well have killed me." He broke off and stared into the middle-distance of the cottage for some time. "I had the great good fortune to come under the protection of one of the other-worlders, a female, who sheltered me and taught me what I had to know. Somehow I survived, becoming quite close to the one who was my savior. But I was never free of the longing to return home. Then, when I did, it was by accident, as traumatic as my leaving the Realm. In many ways," he murmured, almost to himself, "perhaps even more so." He was silent for several moments. "Anyway, I found myself back in the Realm - to this day I don't know exactly where - surrounded once again by the familiar. I started walking, dazed, not really having a destination in mind. As I walked through villages, I would notice new and different things, hear snatches of conversation that didn't quite make sense, changes in the language. After wondering for a while if I had indeed returned to my birthplace, I came to realize although I was back in the Realm, an inordinate amount of time seemed to have passed since I left. A difference in time I could not explain. "I kept wandering, looking for I know not what. Eventually I came here, or I should say, this is as far as I got before I collapsed. The villagers took me in. It was winter and I was still traumatized by my abrupt departure from the other world and delivery into this one. I hadn't had the wits to eat, and I wore only the clothing I had on when I was thrown from the other world, certainly not enough for the cold weather. The villagers knew nothing about me, but they took care of me - Jasta herself healed me, though it took a long time. Oh, they knew I was a Mage, at least the elves did. But they did not know I was Hannu, battler of the Black Mage. They knew only that, sick in body and spirit, I needed help, and they freely gave it. When I was better, I began to get to know everyone, and decided to stay. My spirit was not yet healed, and I welcomed the retreat from those who might know of me. As the season-cycles passed, I began to use my talents to help the villagers - and admittedly, to help myself. I put in place certain 'protections' to prevent unwanted outsiders from entering, and to prevent my old nemesis, if she still existed, from knowing my whereabouts until I was again ready to do battle. "So time passed. I became stronger, useful, even derived some small degree of happiness. The irony is that while in the world of Chaos, I longed to return to the Realm. Since back, I have longed for nothing more than to return to the woman I left there." Quiet consumed the little cottage as he turned to his own thoughts. Scully realized her eyes had filled with tears while Hannu told his story, and felt Mulder's hand upon her cheek, ready to wipe away any that threatened to fall. His mind was in hers, filling her with waves of comfort and peace. Hannu gazed at the lovers, a soft, sad smile playing at the corners of his lips. Without a word, he rose and left the cottage, seeking solace of his own in his special place. - - - - - Ballorca's wide posterior bounced as he bustled importantly down the stone corridor and out to the courtyard. Shuddering slightly as he surveyed the storm beyond the edges of the shield, he reached the Great Hall and tugged open one of the huge, iron-bound doors. Everywhere, beings were at work, putting the finishing touches on the scrubbing and polishing. Later, he would oversee the decoration of the huge ceremonial hall. The seamstresses were just finishing the banners - the green and gold of Andalor's family and the scarlet and pale gray of House Ranfaus; measures and measures of long silken bunting, to be swathed over and around the beams of the majestic ceiling and the columns supporting it. Everything must be perfect for the betrothal ceremony, the Minister of Protocol thought. Despite the unseemly squabbles of the villages, despite the cursed weather, everything must go perfectly. The elements were not cooperating, Ballorca thought sourly. Still, he had managed to organize a flawless coronation, had he not? Even with notice so short he barely had time to disperse the riders to all parts of the Realm with the invitations. And that had gone off without a hitch. The young king had done an excellent job reciting the ritual, most everyone had behaved themselves, the food and music and wine had been beyond criticism. He patted his rounded tummy. Yes, it had been flawless. And this would go equally perfectly. "Is that dust I see?" he called, outraged, to no one in particular. "And over there by the platform - the floor does not shine enough! Naroc, put your back into it!" Ballorca's words were greeted with grimaces, smirks, or shaken heads, but all the servants bent to their tasks with renewed vigor. The Minister of Protocol was difficult to deal with, at the best of times fussy and inflexible. But he never failed to organize a perfect affair. Besides, it was easier to conform to his wishes than to listen to his ranting, or worse yet, his interminable stories of how, fifty season-cycles before, the servants had worked better, longer, and more efficiently. Yes, Ballorca promised himself. He would set new standards in how things should be done. It would be a betrothal ceremony to remember. - - - - - Andalor gently closed the door to Reinald's chamber and wandered the corridors lost in thought. It couldn't go on much longer, that was clear. As it was, Reinald and Tarnor had managed to maintain the shield longer than anyone had expected. The shield held still, protecting the castle inhabitants from the freakish weather and Goddess knew what else. Outside the shield, fierce storms had raged for days, to be followed by a day of blazing heat that wilted vegetation half-drowned the day before. A brief but violent thunderstorm intervened, and close on its heels a snowstorm that lay a mantle of white beyond the courtyard walls. That had disappeared in the heavy rains that followed, bringing floods to villages already decimated by interspecies battles. Now Reinald and Tarnor slept, having renewed the shield yet again. Less sleep than coma, Andalor thought grimly. For the past few days, they had had to renew the shield more often as their powers weakened from the drain of their creation. The first shield had lasted more than two days. The last had begun to soften and waver after only a dozen candlemarks. After renewing the shield, both of the Mages had collapsed, unconscious. Sirisa found them seriously weakened and they had been carried once again to Reinald's chambers. The healer did what she could, but her abilities were limited when dealing with Mages and the effects of their power use. She only shook her head, and warned Andalor that another attempt could well prove fatal. He had some time to decide what to do, but precious little. His alternatives were laden with risk. To allow them to renew the spell again? The Mages could perish in the attempt. To fail to renew the shield? The foul weather was the least of their worries. Without the shield, there was nothing to prevent their enemy from killing anyone in the castle. He stopped by Shannon's room to check on Kyla's progress. The young king opened the door, experiencing the symptoms he always did here - his heart skipping a beat and a longing tearing at his insides. Where was Shannon now? Was she safe? Was she even alive? He poked his head in the door. "How is she?" he whispered. "She awakens for longer periods, but remains very weak. I have done what I can, Your Majesty." The healer sat clothed in her brown robes at the slumbering Kyla's bedside. "I know, and we're all grateful, Healer Sirisa. Will she recover fully, do you think?" "If given a chance to heal at her own pace." The healer smiled sadly. "She stands as good a chance as any one of us." Andalor sighed and nodded, only too aware of the meaning of Sirisa's words. As he continued down the hall, he considered the tension which gripped the entire castle. Everyone down to the kitchen servants now knew the cause of Corvay's death, and the terrible importance of the shield that separated them from a similar fate. Rumors flew. One had reached Andalor that Reinald had expired of exhaustion, causing the horrified king to tear from his bed to the Mage's quarters, only to find him sleeping peacefully. But that was days ago. Now deep unconsciousness replaced healthy sleep. Feeling older than his years, he knocked at Mandor's door and entered. Mandor and his wife and daughter were quartered in the small ballroom. The head of House Ranfaus and his daughter had taken the rough accommodations with good grace. The servants' hall, however, resounded with tales of the latest whining of Norilka, his wife, who had grown up surrounded by luxury and was accustomed to spending her days in indulgent idleness. One look at the noble and Andalor could see that he was about ready to saddle a horse to speed his wife on her way back home, storm or no. As if she would. "Your Majesty, welcome. Bristok, some tea, if you please." The troll nodded and began preparations at the hearth. Norilka remained standing after the king had taken a seat. Fanning herself dramatically, she spit out, "Don't make any for me." "That's not a problem," Bristok muttered under his breath. "If I don't get out of this room, I shall suffocate. By your leave, Your Majesty, " she said, in a tone that made it clear that she was leaving, whether he gave his consent or not. He nodded and she swept from the room. Mandor relaxed visibly with his wife's departure, and Livirnea appeared embarrassed over her mother's behavior. "Please excuse Norilka, King Andalor. She has been spoiled all her life and has little tolerance for what she perceives as hardship. Speaking for Livirnea and myself, we are most grateful for your kindness in offering us the protection of your castle." Tea was poured and tasted, then the noble went on, "News from House Ranfaus is not good. There has been extensive flooding in the area, and numerous assaults in the village. And, " he continued heavily, "two murders in the headquarters of the house itself." "None of it is their doing, " Andalor replied softly. "Try to remember that." He paused. Livirnea, mistaking the cause of his hesitation, stood. "If you wish to speak to my father on matters of the Realm, I can leave you to it." "No, stay, Livirnea. This concerns you as well and I know you well enough to value your counsel as much as your father's." The pale young girl nodded and sat again next to the king. "I'm sorry to say that things are becoming quite grim. Reinald and Tarnor are unconscious. I have no idea if they will awaken by the time the shield starts to fail. Even if they do, Sirisa has informed me that the next attempt to renew the shield spell may well kill them both. That's why I'm here... I don't know what to do." Mandor's brows drew together. "Bad tidings, indeed." "You can't let them try again," Livirnea said decisively in her low, melodic voice. "Even if they were successful in renewing the shield, it would last only six point eight candlemarks...approximately..." she trailed off. At Andalor's startled expression, she smiled guiltily. "Professor Neumann and I have been keeping track. He has introduced me to mathematics, by which one can predict such things, with even more accuracy than a seer. Andalor, the risks are greater than the possible benefit. The potential sacrifice of their lives will bring us only a brief period of protection. Simply put, it's not worth it." Andalor nodded. "And what say you, Mandor?" "I agree with my daughter. Perhaps even if the shield fails, no harm will come to us. Reinald and Tarnor would be throwing away their valiant lives for nothing. And indeed - if they died trying to protect us, would that not be another victory for our enemy?" "Well spoken. You're correct, of course, Mandor. I felt that way myself, but I am too close to Reinald to trust myself to decide objectively. Thank you, as always, for your wise counsel. Very well, when the shield fails, it fails. We shall let the Mages rest. They have done enough." He stood and extended a hand to Livirnea. "Now, with your permission, sir, I would ask for your daughter to join me in a walk around the battlements." Mandor rose. "Of course, Your Majesty. With the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, I'm sure you have much to discuss. By the way, have you heard from Mage Mulder yet?" Andalor's polite smile died. "No. Not yet," he said tersely. "Livirnea?" He took her arm in his and the couple left followed at a discrete distance by her Elven maid. Moments later, they had climbed to the battlements. The sky had grown brighter and the rains had finally stopped outside the shield. It felt odd to be there, high on the walkway adjoining the guard towers, and feel no wind, no chill, no dampness. "If the weather holds, we might be treated to a sunset later," Livirnea remarked. She glanced over at the king, who was gazing out over the wall, lost in thought. "I'm sure she's all right, Andalor." Startled, his head jerked around to face the pretty girl. "What? What did you say?" She gave a low, musical laugh. "I said, I'm sure Shannon is all right. That IS who you're thinking about, isn't it?" At his guilty expression, she shook her head. "It's all right, Andalor. I don't mind, I honestly don't. I want you to be happy. You've already made me so happy. My studies with Professor Neumann are fascinating. I don't know when I've been more excited and stimulated. I'm more sure than ever that my future lies in science. I think I've even surprised the Professor with how quickly I've caught on." He smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure you have, Livirnea. I never doubted that you would excel under his tutelage. I'm so very happy for you." He paused. "How...um...how do you know about Shannon?" "I often go to the kitchens to escape my mother's tantrums," she giggled. "Sometimes I even help knead the bread or wash the vegetables. My mother would faint if she knew what I was doing - that's what makes it fun. She doesn't believe ladies should do anything with their hands except needlework, or possibly play a little on the lute. Anyway, the servants have grown used to my being down there. At first they were careful what they did and said, but now that they know me, I hear all sorts of things. Several days ago I was entering the kitchens as an animated discussion was taking place, arguing the relative merits of Shannon and myself, and how she was sent away because you and she were getting too close." "Not entirely true, but true enough," admitted Andalor. "I don't think I understood what I felt, or how much I felt until she left." He chuckled wryly. "An odd conversation to have on the eve of our betrothal." "Not really," Livirnea smiled. "We both know the whole thing isn't real. Do you think there's any chance at all...?" "That they would call off the betrothal, and let Shannon and me...?" He shook his head. "Not a chance. The Council of Representatives would never allow it. Besides, Reinald's been through so much with the shield spells and Corvay's death and all, I have to go through with this and be as happy as I can be about it for him. He's the only family I have. And there's your reputation to think of. What would happen to you if the betrothal were canceled? Someone might think it was because of some flaw in you, and I would never put you in that position. I do value our friendship, you know." She smiled. "I know. And I wouldn't care about the betrothal, and any gossip. My mother would never get over it, but it really doesn't matter to me. I'm sorry, Andalor." He brushed back a pale strand of her hair that had escaped its braid. "It's not your fault." "Oh, I know that. I just feel like I'm getting the best of the bargain. I'm getting what I want more than anything in the world - a chance to study with someone really brilliant." She leaned against the top of the wall, resting her chin on her arms and surveying the green landscape. "You know, at the beginning of my visit here, I would look out my window and watch the warriors-in-training out on the practice fields - you know, Shannon and the other girls. Andalor, I envied them so much. They were so alive, and they had a purpose in life. After their training they would be USEFUL. Meanwhile, I was being taught to sit like a lady and to make polite, brainless, useless chatter and to try to attract a mate 'befitting my station in life'. I doubt that I have any warrior talent, but I would have changed places with any of them in a heartbeat." She tilted her head to one side to look at the young king. "Now I have my studies, a chance to be useful, doing what I love. And I have that only because of this betrothal. It makes me feel sad for you." He was touched by her sympathy for him. "Don't feel sad, Livirnea. Look at it this way, I could have ended up betrothed to Hortensa." They laughed together. "Or Gurtolle?" she asked teasingly. "Sweet Goddess! What have you heard in the kitchens about Gurtolle?" he yelped. "Never mind, I don't want to know! No, no fear there. I doubt the Council of Representatives would be comfortable with a queen who has seen the majority of them naked and knew their deficiencies first-hand." They laughed again, then gradually became quiet, locked in their own thoughts. "I'm just sorry you can't have what you want, too," Livirnea whispered. She reached over and clasped his hand. Andalor brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it before enfolding it in his own. He looked down on his kingdom with deep violet eyes. "At this point, I'd be happy if I just knew she was safe." - - - - - "...we'll have to get going on it when he comes back. Oh, Hannu! Good!" The Mage closed the door behind him and took a seat near the bondmates. "What can I do for you?" "Scully and I have been talking. While the time taken to learn to control our bond was necessary, it also postponed the primary purpose of our journey here - the protection of the Realm by the defeat of the Black Mage. Now we have to move as quickly as possible. Is there anything you can think of that might help?" Hannu shook his head. "I have been thinking about it, from the moment of your arrival. As I told you earlier, I threw everything I had at her. I hurt her, I could see that, but as far as killing her or rendering her powerless? No. Nothing I knew then or know now is enough." Scully sighed. "Well, we'll just have to get back to Fairwoods and hope that there will be strength in numbers," she said fatalistically. "That the combined power and talents of you two, plus Reinald and Tarnor, might make the difference. We've been holding off communicating with everyone back at the castle, hoping we'd be able to give them the news they've been praying for, but .... Mulder, why don't you get the crystals from the bag? We can at least let everyone know that we found Hannu and that we're safe." As Mulder went for the saddlebags, she went on. "It isn't the answer they were looking for, but I guess we don't have any better one to -" She broke off at Mulder's shout. "Scully, the scroll! I forgot all about it." He pulled the roll of parchment from the saddlebag and sat near Hannu on the bench by the table. Carefully he unfurled it and set some heavy pottery bowls at the corners to keep it flat. "Reinald gave me this scroll, Hannu. He said it was extremely old but is believed to have some importance. As you can see, except for this short passage here, it's written in strange symbols, the meaning of which has been lost over the season-cycles. Reinald said that there had been periodic attempts to translate it, all of them unsuccessful." Hannu surveyed the scratches and squiggles on the scroll. "I know of this. It's called the Laetara scroll, from the caves it was discovered in ages ago. It was legendary even when I was young, but I never had the opportunity to study it. Now that I see it for myself, I must say we're no better off. I haven't a clue what it says." Mulder couldn't disguise the excitement in his voice. "But I do! Have a clue, I mean. I just wish I had thought of it earlier than I did. I have an eidetic memory - I remember everything I read. When we were on our way here, we stopped off in Goodearth Caverns. In the caves I noticed some frescoes with odd symbols. Later, looking at the scroll, I finally recognized the similarity. By that time, however, there wasn't a gargoyle in sight, and we were unable to locate one that spoke Garsintil for the rest of our journey." "You know, I've been thinking about that," interjected his bondmate. "If those symbols are Garsintil, why didn't Tarnor recognize them? He undoubtedly speaks the language - his childhood home was decorated with the symbols and his mother's a linguist." "I'm sure he speaks Garsintil, Scully. But I think it's very possible that Tarnor has never seen the scroll. Reinald had to hunt for it himself and the chest he finally found it in looked like it hadn't been opened in eons, judging by the layers of dust and the creaky hinges. I think either Reinald forgot he had it, or it just never occurred to him to show it to Tarnor. After Reinald gave it to me, I packed it away. Tarnor came in later, but he never saw the scroll." "I hate to burst your bubble, Mulder," she persisted, "but what about other gargoyle Mages? During all that time, there must have been a gargoyle Mage who took a look at it." "Maybe not. Remember what Mikora, the village elder, said? Mage-talent is very rare in gargoyles. Plus, they tend to stay close to home and with their own kind. And even if there were a few gargoyle Mages scattered around, who's to say they were in a locale where they would have gotten a chance to look at the scroll?" "Maybe." Scully sounded far from convinced. Hannu studied the scroll in silence for a few moments. "You said the symbols are similar. How similar?" Mulder considered the question. "These seem more ornate than the ones in the cave. But the flow of the lines, those odd curving marks, there," he said, pointing. "Those are all very close to what I saw in the cave. I mean, isn't it possible that the scroll is written in an archaic form of Garsintil?" "Oh, of course it's possible. I have one question, however. If you suspected you recognized the language of the scroll, why did you not cast a language spell to test your hypothesis?" He looked at the younger Mage and a silence fell over the chamber. Mulder appeared stunned for a moment, then covered his face with his hands. "Because I never thought of it," he groaned. "Damn, I'm an idiot!" Playfully, Scully ruffled his hair. "Come on. Smile, Mulder! It's not like the scroll was the only thing on your mind. Between the Black Mage trying to kill us in a dozen inventive ways and the physical problems we were having with our bond, I'm surprised you knew which end was up." Laughing, the older Mage said, "Don't be too hard on yourself. Would you care to do the honors, or shall I?" "You go ahead," he mumbled, still mortified. Hannu closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his arms to shoulder height. He spoke in the tongue of Mages for some time. Scully thought she felt a slight tingle ripple through her, then felt it echoed back from Mulder through their bond. The Mage dropped his arms. "All right, let's take a look at this now." While the scroll appeared to be unchanged, Scully found that she now had the capacity to link the symbols with the sounds they represented. "Yacho no slarish," she read. " 'Not in our time' - is that right?" Mulder nodded. "That's what I got out of it. Hannu?" Distractedly, he grunted his assent as his eyes devoured the writing. "Apparently, this is some sort of prophecy. It's not going to be easy, though, getting some meaning from this. The language spell works well, but it's limited. Only those words that have a direct correlation in New Realm will translate properly. The others either won't translate, or the meaning the spell gives them might be skewed. If it was indeed written more than a twelve hundred season-cycles ago, a lot of words have passed from use since then. I see several words here that aren't translating. And if I remember correctly, the literary style of the day was so woven with symbolism that it was exceedingly difficult to understand." "Well, maybe we can figure them out by the context," said Scully doubtfully. "The only way we'll know is to work at it. It may take some time, but I think it will be worth it. There's something in here we need to know, I'm sure of it." Hannu left the room briefly and returned with parchment, brushes and ink. Then they got down to work. For the next two candlemarks, the three poured over the scroll, their scrutiny punctuated by debates over the exact interpretation of a word or phrase. Without doubt, Hannu's unique first-hand knowledge of the language patterns of ages past was invaluable. But Scully found the lapses in the language spell frustrating, reminiscent of when they had first arrived in the Realm and were dependent on the language spell for communication. It had been better than not being able to communicate at all, but had still motivated them to learn New Realm as soon as possible. Finally Mulder threw down his brush. "Okay," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. "Let's see what we've got. Shannon! When did you get here?" "Oh, about a candlemark ago. Thanks for noticing," she smiled sweetly. She put a platter of meat and bread and vegetables in front of him. "I made dinner, I thought you might be hungry when you finally came up for air. Besides, I figured that Jhorgab's whining would disturb your concentration." "I was not whining," the troll retorted, insulted. "I was merely pointing out that a great deal of time had elapsed since I last ate." "You were whining," the teenager said flatly. "So what's so spellbinding?" Hannu's amber eyes twinkled as he looked up at her. "Interesting choice of words. We were translating the scroll that Reinald gave Mulder." "That's what was so fascinating that you couldn't take your eyes off it?" she asked incredulously. She turned back to the hearth for another platter, muttering. Scully alone caught her words and giggled. //She said some people need to get a life,\\ she explained in response to Mulder's questioning look. Shannon and Jhorgab finally joined them at the table and they all began eating. "All right, so what's up?" she asked, munching on a stalk of what looked like purple celery. Jhorgab raised an inquisitive eyebrow but otherwise kept his attention focused on his plate. Mulder smiled. "Get ready to be enlightened, whether you want to be or not. This scroll is apparently some sort of prophecy, written who knows how long ago - well over a thousand season- cycles, at least - by some being who was a seer." "Undoubtedly a gargoyle," offered Hannu, between bites. "And not only because it's written in Early Garsintil. As elves are noted for their inherent talent in magic, gargoyles have always produced the prophets with the most accurate vision." "So what does this prophecy say?" she inquired. "Scully, would you mind reading so I can eat? I'm starved." She took the parchment with a smile as Mulder applied himself to his meal. " 'Not in our time but in the twilight of our march there shall be a foul odor which blankets the land. All light shall cease, consumed by darkness, all that survives shall be in bondage, in thrall to the night. The very gods shall tremble, and the skies weep and rail. But rivers of tears shall not cleanse the land of the stain of spilled life Nor the stench from once-sweet vapors. From the swirl of time must he come, as in a feverdream. Be he like the Archer, with his quiver and bow. Archer, may thy first clear blue arrow be the ancient powers, long forgotten. So hold thy hand upon the beasts and elements. Yet, sufficeth this not, for the strength of the dark will sap the power of light like the ' - something - ' drains the ' - something.' Perish not thy hope and thy resolve The black of night may yet be vanquished by the blue skies of day. Mark well thee my words, here writ in tears, oh thee that hath come seeking. Use well and true the elusive powers, But have also in thy quiver two more arrows as pure-blue as the sky The next, the Guardian shall speak' - something - 'that lights a candle against the dark. Then, draw thee the third and strongest of the arrows - straight, piercing, one with the blue-cloaked Archer. Loose it from thy bow, this last and best arrow, this' - something - 'which outshines the deepest night. By this way only may the dark be sent into the void of eternity and banished from our suffering land. Heed thee well my words, lest my vision be in vain and all perishes from the land.' " "Great. But what's it all mean?" asked Shannon, puzzled. "It means," said Scully, "that it's time to get in touch with our friends back at Fairwoods. - - - - - The two Mages sat huddled by the fire, wrapped in thick woven lap robes while Andalor hovered anxiously nearby. Pouring out the restorative, Sirisa handed each Mage a mug. "I've put a little something extra in this. Drink it up." She looked sternly from Tarnor to Reinald. Meekly he took a sip, then grimaced. "You do my friend Corvay one better, Healer Sirisa. This is truly the most vile stuff I've ever been forced to drink." She smiled brightly. "Ah, a good sign - you're strong enough to complain." "Go on, Reinald, drink it," Andalor urged. "Well, only because I have to regain my strength to renew the shield spell." Wrinkling his nose, the Mage tipped the cup back, missing Andalor's set expression. When he had emptied it and set it down on the table next to him, the king cleared his throat. "Reinald...there will not be another shield spell." "Andalor, don't be difficult. There must be another renewal. Now, we will hear no more about it." "I will not have you and Tarnor risk your lives further. You have done well - very well - to keep our enemy at bay. But now is the time to stop. Before this spell costs us more than we have gained. I have sought Mandor for counsel, and he agrees. No more." "But Andalor, without the shield any one of us is helpless against our enemy," Tarnor said. "Any one of us, any time, could be cut down. You're the king, you must be protected." "And if you both die in the next attempt, who will there be to protect me then? I need you both alive and well if we are to have any chance to pull the Realm back together." He left the center of the room and walked over to them. He appeared very young and very vulnerable. "Not to mention the fact that I love both of you very much, and could not bear to lose you." In a voice that disguised well his lack of strength, Reinald declared, "We have survived thus far, we shall continue to do so, eh, Tarnor?" The gargoyle weakly nodded his large gray head. His ears, normally pointed skyward, hung limply around his face. "No one can fault your courage, Mages, but your common sense is lacking," commented Sirisa candidly. "Mage Tarnor, you would certainly not survive the next attempt. And I doubt that Mage Reinald would either." "That's it, then," replied the young king. "The shield will fail in a few candlemarks. When it does, there will be no attempt to renew it." "Andalor! You are not being reasonable! You are not thinking of the Realm," argued the Royal Mage. "The Realm is precisely what I'm thinking of," Andalor said softly. "I'm thinking of the mess it is in, and how it would be impossible to clear up that mess without your support and advice and talents." Stubbornly Reinald shook his head. "The renewal will take place when the present shield begins to waver. That is the way it must be." Andalor sighed and crouched beside the man who had been his guardian and protector since he was a small child. "Reinald, I'm sorry. I have never used my rank against you, but this time it appears the only way you will listen. As your king, I am commanding you. There will be no renewal of the shield." As the Mage's mouth popped open in shocked protest, the young king said gently, "That was a direct command, Royal Mage. The command of your king. Obey it." There was silence in the spacious chamber. When at length Andalor saw that the Mages had accepted the command, however grudgingly, he stood and said in a brisker voice, "Good! Now, I must see Ballorca. He has something he's upset about - but then again, he always does." He started for the door. "Andalor, wait!" The young king turned. "Have we heard from Mulder?" Somberly, the king paced back to the hearth. "No. Not a word.": There was a knock at the door, and at the call to enter the Professor popped his head in. "Ah, Your Majesty. I thought I would just check on the welfare of my partners in crime." He completed his entry and shut the door. "Ex-partners, Professor Neumann. There will be no more shield spells." The Professor nodded and looked relieved. "Thank you. Did it take an act of the Council of Representatives to make the two most obstinate Mages in all the Realm come to their senses?" Andalor chuckled. "It took more than that - my command." He nodded approvingly. "Good. I was not looking forward to being an accomplice in their deaths." "Sit down and have some tea, Gunther. Sirisa, would you mind? Pitir is sitting with Kyla at the moment." "Not at all, Mage." "And not that filthy muck you last gave me." The healer stifled a chuckle and turned to ready the tea. "All right, Andalor. What are we to do then? Since we are not to renew the shield - and it wasn't fair making it a command, by the way; you knew I would have no choice but to obey - and since we haven't heard from Mulder and Scully yet, what do you suggest we do?" "I believe the time has come to use the Oracle Cloud to contact them. We have to know if there will be any assistance, either from them, or from Hannu if they have managed to find him." "I agree," Gunther said. "As do I," sighed Reinald. "I must admit to being extremely anxious about their welfare." "Have you the strength to use some power to activate the Oracle Cloud?" Gunther asked. Reinald was about to answer when he was interrupted by Sirisa, holding out mugs. "He will when he has had a second mug of my restorative," she said. He scowled and took the mug from her, recoiling as the odor of the steam reached his nostrils. "Bah!! Why is it you healers never let well enough alone? Is it part of your training, I wonder, to -" "Reinald, look!" Tarnor was sitting up and pointing to the table in the center of the chamber, a fearsome grin on his face. Under its silken blue shroud, the Oracle Cloud glowed brightly. "Quick, help me up," urged Reinald. With the assistance of the Professor and the young king, he staggered from his chair to the table and swept the cover from the large crystal ball. "Reinald? Reinald, are you there?" The voice sounded very far away, and the vapors in the glass swirled and dipped. Together Tarnor and the Royal Mage closed their eyes, opened their hands and muttered a few words. Gradually, Mulder's face coalesced into view. "Reinald, Tarnor. Is that you? My God, what's been happening there? You two look awful!" "Mage Mulder! It's wonderful to see you! Is Scully there?" "Hello, Reinald!" a familiar voice called from the distance. "Yes, she's here. And Shannon." "All right!" Andalor exulted quietly, pumping his arm in a gesture he had seen Shannon use. "And Jhorgab - oh, I forgot, you don't know him. He's someone we kind of picked up on the way. And someone else." Mulder's face moved from view, to be replaced by that of a man in late middle age, with a salt and pepper beard and silver hair. The blue aura of a Mage shimmered around him. "Do I have the honor of addressing the Royal Mage Reinald?" said the man in a deep pleasant voice. "Goddess!" Reinald gasped. "Is it possible? You do, Mage. And do I have the incredible good fortune to be addressing Mage Hannu?" The lips parted in a wide smile to reveal even white teeth. His amber eyes sparkled. "I can't speak to your good fortune, but yes, I am Hannu." All conversation stopped as a cheer went up in Reinald's quarters. Even the normally reserved Professor was almost dancing with joy and relief. They finally turned back to the Cloud. Hannu had his back turned to the crystal, conversing with someone out of sight. "What's going on?" "It appears they are celebrating, Warrior Healer Scully." He returned to the crystal. "One moment, Mage Reinald. Warrior Healer Scully wishes to speak with you." "Reinald! Goddess, it's good to see you, but - you look ill!" "Let me assure you, Scully, I am much better than I was before you contacted us." "As you can see, Reinald, we found Hannu." Mulder stood close to Scully so both could see and be seen in the crystal. "And the other part of your mission?" he inquired delicately. Mulder smiled. "Mission accomplished, as they say. And Reinald - we've translated the scroll. Most of it, anyway. And we might have some insight into how to deal with our enemy." His voice throbbed with barely controlled excitement. "Goddess!" breathed Tarnor, gripping the king's arm. "We have a chance now!" "Reinald, I don't think we want to waste time traveling back on foot. What's the possibility of Gating us back?" "I know for certain that we can't afford to waste that amount of time. Much has transpired in your absence." "None of it good, it appears," Mulder said grimly. "Certainly not much of it. But I must confer with our friends, here, about the Gate." Reinald's form moved out of view, and the Professor took over. "Both Reinald and Tarnor are severely drained, Mulder. They have been using their power to construct a shield to protect the castle from our enemy. A radical step, but a necessary one, after the tragedy." A scuffling was heard, and Shannon burst into view. "Andalor! Andalor, are you all right?" "I'm here and I'm fine, Shannon." He grinned, absurdly pleased that she had been worrying about him. Shannon retreated to the background, muttering about men being more trouble than they were worth, and that Andy had better wipe that smile off his face, she hadn't been worried about him personally, far from it.... Mulder smothered a smile lest his halla take offense, then turned back to the crystal he held. Reinald finally reappeared. "All right, we can help Gate you back, but I'm afraid you and Hannu will have to take the brunt of the power expenditure. What Gunther said was true, Tarnor and I are somewhat depleted at the moment. We should have recovered somewhat by the time the shield fails. When will that be, Gunther?" "Approximately two point seven candlemarks." "Mulder, we can't bring you in through the shield. By the time it goes down, Tarnor and I should be replenished enough to anchor the Gate, but I'm afraid you won't be able to count on us for any more than that." There was a mumbled discussion out of view of the Oracle Cloud. Then Mulder reappeared. "That won't be a problem. Hannu and I will handle the actual Gate construction from this end. Just anchor the Gate on your end and we should be fine. When do you think - say, three candlemarks?" Reinald looked around at his companions for consensus. "Agreed. Send us a flash with one of the crystals when you're ready to begin. Just enough to light the Oracle Cloud. We'll take that as your signal." "Great. Reinald, it will be wonderful to be back." "It will be wonderful to have you back. Three candlemarks, then. Take care, Mulder." End of Chapter Twenty THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty-One "Are we all packed up? Shannon? Jhorgab?" Scully made a last minute check of everyone's belongings as Hannu strolled over to join the group in the gathering twilight. "The village has been warned to expect some Mage histrionics," he remarked dryly. "The healer is with the more magic- sensitive beings to forestall any ill-effects from the creation of the Gate." Mulder nodded. "I guess we're ready then." "Are-are you s-sure we need to do this?" stammered Jhorgab. "Speaking for myself, I wouldn't mind the journey back on foot. Lots of fresh air, beautiful scenery.... I'm sure we could all use a nice walk." "A nice fifteen day walk? I don't think so," Shannon retorted. "Now stop being such a wimp and get over here." Scully patted the troll on the shoulder kindly. "It's all right, Jhorgab. Your part is easy. Just stay with Shannon and be ready to move when I tell you." "Yeah, just think. Dinner is probably waiting back at Fairwoods. Dinner at the castle, from the Royal Kitchens. Food fit for a king," tempted Shannon. "Does that help?" "Somewhat," said the troll dubiously. "But there better be plenty of it!" Still nervous, he attached himself to Shannon's side. "Okay, everybody ready?" Mulder took a crystal from the pouch hanging from his belt, grounded himself, and concentrated. After a few moments, he dropped it back into the little sack. "They should have gotten the signal by now and hopefully are on their way out of the castle." "Wait! Don't you have to talk to them, to be sure they're in position?" "That won't be necessary, Shannon," smiled Hannu. "It will take us a little time to create the Gate on this end. Besides, while Mulder and I are casting, we'll be able to communicate with the Mages in Fairwoods. Just be ready to move when Warrior Healer Scully tells you to." At her nod, he and Mulder withdrew a few paces from the group. Facing each other, they stood stock still, eyes down, arms very slightly raised with palms up. Then their lips began to move and their auras went from bright to blinding in a flash. The others raised cupped hands to their eyes, trying to shut out the fierce illumination yet still see what was transpiring. The cadence of the Old Realm words sent shivers of anticipation down their backs, as louder and louder the Mages chanted. Bass blended with baritone in a song of power, of space and of time. Barely perceptible through the glare of white-blue, bars of energy encircled their arms, coursing down to emerge from their fingertips as barely controlled bolts of raw power. Now, their arms gradually ascended in perfect tandem. Lightning cut across the twilight heavens as if in envy of the Mages' power. With a hoarse shout, they flung their arms upwards to the offended sky, a huge broad tower of pure energy leaping from their hands and up as far as the travellers' challenged eyes could see. The Mages trembled with the forces they were unleashing and trying to control, bending the dazzling ribbon of energy into an arc. "Almost. Almost," Scully muttered. "Hold it steady." Loudly, she called to the others above the roar and whine of the energy and the rumble of thunder. "Be ready! It won't be long now!" Shannon and Jhorgab clutched their saddlebags in awe as Mulder, with a swift downward movement of his arm, sent one end of the shaft of power deep into the earth. A moment later, Hannu swept his hand toward the ground, burying the free end of the arc beneath the soil. A perfect, glowing archway, six meters high and three meters across, stood before them. Suddenly, there was a slight waver in the brilliance. Not so much that anyone would normally notice, but Scully was a veteran of Gating. She also had the advantage of being in Mulder's mind. Her presence there was a light one, not enough to distract the Mage, but enough to be party to his communications with the Mages in Fairwoods. Buffeted by a sudden wind, she yelled to Shannon and Jhorgab, "Something's wrong!" Mulder and Hannu shuddered with the effort of creation and control of the incredible power of the Gate. Mulder slid his eyes toward the older, more experienced Mage, who held his gaze as the gale whipped their cloaks about them. Then he blinked. Scully shouted to the others, "Something's interfering with the Gate at the other end. Reinald and Tarnor can't anchor it properly, and - NO!" The idea was in his mind and he had acted upon it before she could stop him. Suddenly, a moment after Hannu had blinked, Mulder was through the flickering arch, and was gone.... ....Reinald and Tarnor struggled with the last of their strength to control the Gate. One end was planted firmly in the earth before them. The other lashed and twisted wildly in the air, like some monstrous incandescent cobra, threatening to destroy not only the Gate but its creators as well. Tauntingly, the shaft of power curled once more toward the ground. "Aaaaeeeeiiiii - oooph!" Mulder dropped inelegantly to the ground from a height of five meters. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his ankle, he stood up quickly and grounded himself. Regaining his concentration almost immediately, he joined the other Mages, adding his voice, his power to the chant. The glowing ribbon straightened, steadied. With a final tremendous effort, Mulder mentally seized the end and drove it deep into the earth. The brilliant arch's light burned steady at last. Moments later, Scully, Shannon and Jhorgab ran from the Gate, with Hannu close behind. Exhaling, the Mages in concert stopped the flow of energy. The archway faded and finally disappeared. Tarnor and Reinald collapsed to the ground as if they had been clubbed. Aldara and Pitir raced to lift the gargoyle, while Jourdain stooped to cradle the unconscious Royal Mage in his arms. "To Reinald's chambers, quickly! The healer is already there!" Over her shoulder Aldara called, "Shannon! Take the Mage and your troll friend to the castle and find them rooms. If anyone needs a healer, send a servant to the Royal Mage's quarters." Mulder staggered and fell to his knees, panting, sweat running down his body. Scully reached his side first, quickly entering his mind and body as a healer. Frantically, she searched through neurons, prodded muscles, trying to assess the toll of his power expenditure, and his impossible desperate trip through a partially anchored Gate. Except for a badly sprained ankle, he was exhausted, but otherwise intact. For professional reasons, she withdrew from his mind before giving him a piece of hers. "Goddamn it Mulder, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll kill you myself! Just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Hannu approached her, pale and shaky but still on his feet. Mulder shook his head and tried to speak, but emitted only incoherent gasps. Reaching out to her with his mind, he found he lacked the energy necessary for even that most natural form of communication. "Don't, Warrior Healer Scully," said Hannu softly. "He did what he had to do, rash as it may seem." "Oh, this goes way beyond 'rash', Hannu," she fumed, turning her furious gaze his way. "Way beyond headstrong, past foolhardy, all the way to damned stupid!" "You're being very hard on the man who just saved all of our lives." Eyes flashing, she cooled a bit and waited for the Mage to continue. "A Gate is a very tricky thing. When Reinald and Tarnor were unable to completely anchor their end, it was imperative to reassert control as quickly as possible. The instability would have increased, leaching the power from a controlled form to float free in the air. Once that happened, there would have been a tremendous explosion that would not only have killed all of us, but also taken a good deal of the castle and my village with it." Somewhat mollified, Scully reached down to assist her bondmate to his feet. Shannon rushed to his other side while Jhorgab gathered their belongings. "But why is it always you, Mulder?" Leaning heavily on their shoulders, still fighting for breath, he looked down at his bondmate. "Had to be...one of us.... And I...thought of it...first." He gave her a wobbly grin before his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. - - - - - She hardly heard the knock through her own sobs. "Go 'way!" "Lady Shannon, it is I, Jhorgab. And I shall certainly not go away. There is to be a meeting in Reinald's chambers in one candlemark, and he wants you there. Shannon? Shannon, are you all right? I am coming in now." He opened the door swiftly and went in, closing it softly behind him. Shannon was sprawled face- down on the bed, trying to control the wracking sobs that shook her. "Lady Shannon, what is it? Has something happened to Mage Mulder?" "N-no. Just go away, Jhorgab. I don't feel like visitors right now." "I am not a visitor," he retorted loftily. "I am your friend." He cocked his head sympathetically. "I think I can guess what it is. You know about the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, don't you?" "I guess I was the last to know," she said bitterly. "I feel like such a jerk. Here I was, losing my head over him, and all the time I was just fooling myself. God, I wish I could die." With some difficulty and little grace, Jhorgab levered himself up to sit beside her on the high Realm bed. He put out a tentative hand and gently patted her head. "Don't feel that way, Shannon. From what I heard in the servant's quarters, he has no wish for this match, he was forced into it." "Yeah, right." With her head buried in her arms, the reply was muffled. "I would miss you very much if you were to die. Who would answer all my questions, and see to it that I was fed as often as I need? You can't die, Lady Shannon. Think of how upset Mage Mulder and Warrior-Healer Scully would be." She sat up with a groan, wiping her eyes and sniffing. "That was meant to be taken figuratively, Jhorgab, not literally. Who is this girl, anyway? Did you hear anything? "Oh. Well, I am very glad you will not die then. No, I have heard that she is small, though still too tall for my liking. And pretty, though again, far too scrawny and delicately featured for true beauty. And that all the servants seem to like her very much. But they are split into two warring camps - the ones who support the lady to whom the king will become betrothed, and those who wish the king were free to choose you." "Yeah, well, it's a pity the king didn't get a little input from them before he decided to get engaged." She sniffled. "I feel so stupid." Jhorgab's yellow eyes were softly sympathetic. "I don't know anything about the ways of the heart, Lady Shannon. But if it helps, I'll always be your friend." "Oh, Jhorg!" She threw her arms around him and he gently folded her into his. "What am I going to do?" Awkwardly, the little troll patted her shoulder. "You're going to be all right, Shannon. It will get better. I promise." - - - - - I'm in heaven, he thought. I've died and I've gone to heaven. He wriggled comfortably, the silky sheets gliding along his skin. Then he felt a slight jarring and sensed his bondmate near him. Scully stretched herself out next to him, her arm supporting her head. "Welcome back. Feel better after your nap?" "Great." He reached out to stroke her face. "Still mad at me?" "Yeah. A little." She sighed. "If you could just give someone else a chance to be the hero once in a while, Mulder, I'd breathe easier." "I'm sorry, love. Not sorry that I do what I do, because that's just me. I'm just sorry I don't stop to consider its effects on you. It's both our funerals if I get myself into something I can't get out of." He toyed with an unruly auburn lock which had escaped her braid. "How are the other Mages?" "Hannu's fine. He's been touring the castle with Andalor. Aldara stopped by a little while ago, just to say that Reinald and Tarnor are out of danger but are still being watched like a hawk by the healer." She sat up cross-legged on the bed, a perplexed expression on her lovely face. "Mulder, something's going on. I can feel it. Something's happened that we don't know about." "Ah, the famous Scully intuition again. Aldara didn't say anything else?" His stomach rumbled loudly. He looked down in amazement. "I thought only Jhorgab could make noises like that. Is there any chance of -" There was a knock at the door, followed immediately by Shannon's entry. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were tearstained. Leaning against the door, she said tonelessly, "There's going to be a late supper and a meeting in Reinald's chambers as soon as you can make it." She turned and had her hand on the latch ready to leave when Scully's voice stopped her. "Shannon! Are you all right?" She whirled back to face them. "Who, me? Oh, sure, I'm all right. I'm friggin' great! Why should I care if the idiot goes and gets himself engaged while I'm gone?" The tough facade suddenly crumbled, and she was in tears again. Scully sent her bondmate a stricken look. //You want me to deal with this, or do you want to?\\ //Want to, no. Feel that I have to be the one, yes. Toss me some shorts, love. I can't get out of bed like this.\\ Scully pulled some dark blue satiny shorts from the huge armoire and tossed them to her bondmate. She stopped to give Shannon a hug in passing, then left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Pulling on his shorts, Mulder slipped from between the sheets onto the cold stone of the floor. His ankle felt much better - his bondmate had evidently been at work while he slept. He crossed to Shannon and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her to the comfort of the hearth. He had known that this moment would, inevitably, come, but knowing it didn't make it any easier to deal with. "I'm sorry, baby. I know it hurts. I wish there were something I could say to make it better." "What's there to say?" she choked out. "Obviously he doesn't care about me the way I care about him." "I don't think it's obvious at all," said Mulder. He sank into one of the deep, oversized armchairs and pulled her into his lap, cradling her head against his shoulder. "I think he cares a great deal about you." Shannon gulped, trying hard to control herself. "Yeah, right. As soon as my back is turned, he gets engaged. Some way to show his feelings." She sniffled and a new wave of tears followed. Mulder let her cry it out, stroking her hair, murmuring comfortingly. When she had quieted, he asked gently, "How did you find out?" "Overheard the servants. Tomorrow is the betrothal ceremony. The whole castle is buzzing with the news." He frowned, then slowly began speaking. "You know, Shannon, Andalor has been brought up from day one to do his duty to his subjects. It may seem like a wonderful life, being waited on, living in a castle, having people look up to you and treat you special. But he has had to pay for that every moment of his life. Never has he been able to consider only himself, to do whatever he wanted to do. He has always had to put his duty first. That's why he ran away to our world in the first place - to try to escape that duty. I think he learned from the experience that he couldn't. But it's a crushing responsibility for a young man of his age. Now that he's back, he's trying to do the best job he can." "He could have done something if he wanted to badly enough," she insisted tearfully. "Avoided getting betrothed, or-or maybe even p-picked m-me." "I know you feel that way. But Shannon, some things are inescapable, no matter how much you may want them to be different. Andalor's job is one of them. If there had been any way at all, he would have found it. But no matter what Andalor wants, his first priority is and must always be the Realm. Any marriage would have to be blessed by the Council, and he knew they would never approve a marriage to you." "What am I, something that just crawled out from under a rock?" she wailed. Mulder smiled. "No. You are a very beautiful, intelligent, spirited and talented young woman. But you're not part of the nobility. And even more importantly, you aren't exactly 'from these- here parts'. It's not generally known where we come from - you and the Professor and Scully and I. Only a few beings at the castle and Prince Mavor know where we're from. It's better that way. What do you think the Council's, or the Realm's, reaction would be if you tried to explain that you come from another world entirely? It would be as unthinkable as if...as if Prince Charles wanted to marry a Reticulan!" She snorted. "He might have been better off." He chuckled. "In view of the way things turned out, you might be right at that. But what kind of a chance would he have had of Elizabeth welcoming an alien daughter-in-law - the future queen - with open arms?" "Well, Andalor could leave, we could go back to our world," Shannon persisted. But even as she said it, she knew it was not the answer. "Leave everything he knows, everything he was trained to do, everything that's familiar, to go flip burgers at McDonald's?" he asked incredulously. "I don't think so. Personally, I find Andalor's acceptance of his responsibility admirable. The Realm is a mess right now. How could he live with himself, how could he ever be happy, knowing he had walked out on his whole nation when it needed him the most? Talk about a rat leaving a sinking ship." He let her have a moment to consider what he had said, then continued softly. "It would be so easy for him to run away, to be with you, to get out from under all his problems. It takes guts to stay here, to fight it out, to marry the woman the Council will approve. Don't you think that if he could, he'd prefer to be with you?" She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know." "Of course he would. But right now Andalor is in for the fight of his life. He's being both courageous and responsible, because he has to be. He has no choice. And as hard as it is, that's just the way it has to be, including marriage to a stranger he doesn't love." They were silent for a while as the girl mulled over what he had said. "Life sucks." She nestled against his shoulder. He sighed and held her a bit tighter. "Yeah, sometimes life does suck. But it has a way of balancing out, really it does. Give it some time. You okay now?" His concerned eyes sought out hers. She smiled wryly. "No. But I suppose it's time to put on my game face, right?" He smoothed her abundant black hair back from her face. "You'll always be my princess, Shannon." His concern and tenderness encouraged fresh tears to spring to her eyes. Giving him a watery smile, she whispered, "Thanks, Mulder. I'm so glad you're around." She slid off his lap. "I'd better go get cleaned up for dinner." With a heavy heart, he watched her leave. - - - - - Everyone had assembled at the table in Reinald's quarters by the time Andalor walked in. What little conversation there was halted as they rose from their seats in respect for his position. The king rolled his eyes and flapped his hand dismissively. "Look, it's just us, can't we dispense with all this standing stuff?" A few at the table chuckled. It was an old battle, and one likely to continue. Andalor tried to catch Shannon's eye, but they were cast down as she seated herself with unnatural quiet at the far end of the long table. Goddess, he thought. She looked beautiful tonight, in a honey-colored silk sheath that precisely matched the color of her eyes, and her hair bound in a single thick braid which hung over one shoulder. Reinald and Tarnor were still extremely weak, hardly able to struggle to their feet, and they collapsed gratefully into their chairs at the king's command. The healer had allowed them to attend this meeting on the condition that she could stay, closely monitoring their welfare from the hearth. Dishes and platters were passed, but it seemed to Scully that no one wanted to be the first to speak for some reason. She had noticed the unfamiliar healer in the chamber, and decided to ask about her. "I don't recognize the healer, Reinald. Where's Kyla? How's Corvay doing?" It was as if the assemblage froze, and everyone appeared to be looking everywhere but at her. Finally Aldara cleared her throat. "None of us really knew how to tell you. I'm so sorry. Healer Corvay has passed on to the Next World. Dana - he was murdered." "M-murdered? But how? By whom?" she blurted in shock. She felt Mulder in her mind, comforting, supporting, but no less appalled than she was. "Why would anyone murder a wonderful old being who was close to death in any case?" The deep rumble of Jourdain's voice answered bitterly. "It was our cursed enemy. It struck while Kyla was in the midst of a healing trance with Corvay. He died and she very nearly did too. She's still recovering, very slowly, but a bit stronger every day." Scully sat, speechless and stunned. "That's why we decided that we had no choice but to construct a shield," explained Tarnor in a weak imitation of his normal voice. "For all we knew, the king could have been next." Grimly, Hannu nodded. "But what spell did you use? To my knowledge, I am the only one who has ever devised a spell to shield a large area, and that only relatively recently." "We knew it was possible in theory," replied Reinald tiredly. "We worked with the Professor down there" - the Professor waved - "to enhance the personal shield spell." The Royal Mage's eyes closed briefly in fatigue, and Tarnor took over. "We used our powers and Gunther's knowledge to magnify both the area and the protective nature of the spell." His ears twitched thoughtfully. "In truth, I suppose you could say we were making it up as we went along." "We kept renewing it, but the strain on Reinald and Tarnor was terrible," Gunther chimed in. "Still, no more calamities befell anyone within the walls of the castle while it was in place. So we can assume it was effective." "You must show me how you enhance spells, Professor," said Hannu, intrigued. "Unless my eyes fail me, you are not a Mage." "A Mage in his own way, Hannu," smiled Mulder. "But don't get him started or we'll be here all night. He gets somewhat enthusiastic about his work." Reinald was grim-faced across the table. "Tarnor and I owe you both an apology. Renewing the shield repeatedly did deplete our powers, but even so, losing control of the Gate was inexcusable. Everyone might have been killed." "Is that what you think? You didn't lose control, Mage Reinald. Oh, no doubt you were not in the best condition to attempt Gate construction," admitted Hannu. "But you would have completed your side of the Gate without difficulty if it had not been for interference." "Interference?" echoed Tarnor. "Don't tell me you didn't pick up the stench of the Black Arts!" exclaimed Mulder, amazed. "The air around Fairwoods was thick with the stink." Hannu and Aldara nodded their heads emphatically. "Our enemy tried to disrupt the Gate spell. Evidently your fatigue was noted and that's why the interference was directed at the Fairwoods side of the Gate." "I suspect we were too exhausted and too engrossed in our task to notice. By the way, Mage Mulder, we shall have to a long discussion later." The old Mage's eyes burned with indignation and his face was stern. "I can only hope that Mage Hannu does not think that I taught you to leap through unanchored Gates!" Mulder grinned sheepishly. "I'll look forward to it - although I doubt you can say anything on the subject that Scully hasn't." There was a chuckle around the table. "Now, we have some answers for you, and perhaps some possible solutions to our problems. I'll let Hannu tell you about our enemy." All eyes turned to the renowned Mage. "Our enemy is the last in a dynasty of royalty who extensively used the Black Arts to spread suffering and terror, and further their control over the land." Aldara interrupted, a puzzled expression on her face. "But, Mage, why have we never heard of this Black Mage?" Hannu looked uncomfortable. "It is extremely difficult to explain. Like myself, she was born ages ago, possibly over a thousand season-cycles -" "What? How is this possible?" Jourdain boomed. He shook his head. "I do not know myself. You see, this Black Mage and I have battled before. The battle you have heard of as legend actually did occur, longer ago than you can imagine. At the climax of the battle, such incredible forces were unleashed that there was a terrible explosion which bridged space and time, and the two of us were thrown far away from the Realm - to different places, fortunately. Eventually, I found my way back to the Realm. But instead of returning close to the time I left, I discovered I had come back at a time which for me was far in the future. I have no way of knowing how much time went by when I was elsewhere. But in any case, although it is hard to explain and even harder to understand, I can assure you that it did happen." "What is our enemy's name?" pressed Andalor. "I don't know, Your Majesty. No one knows. The dynasty guarded the secret of their names as closely as they guarded their spells, fearing their power would somehow be diminished if their names were spoken." Tarnor grunted. "I've heard of such superstitions. Even today, there are clans in far-flung corners of the Realm that believe something similar." The Mage nodded then continued, "I can tell you that she is completely evil. Between her formidable powers, her total lack of morality, and the hatred and lust for vengeance that drive her, conquering her will be an extremely difficult task at best." "But!" announced Mulder. "We have some good news." "We could use some," replied Andalor dryly. "Reinald gave me an ancient scroll before we left, one that had been around for eons, but that no one had ever been able to translate. Tarnor, give it a try." He passed the scroll to the gargoyle Mage. He frowned at the seemingly impossible task that Mulder was asking of him, but took the scroll. He unfurled it and his brows rose in amazement. "It's in Garsintil! Well, an old form of it, anyway. Let's see. 'Yacho no slarish'... not in our time...." "Tarnor, remind me to show you everything else I have stashed away," sighed Reinald. "It's ironic that this scroll might have been translated a long time ago, had I the presence of mind to show it to you." Mulder nodded, eyes sparkling. "Maybe he can still help us out. There was one passage we couldn't translate very well. Read the whole thing and try to fill in the blanks for us." The gargoyle scanned the symbols. "Sorry, Mulder, a few of these symbols I have never seen before. They don't even resemble anything closely enough to make a guess." Then he settled down to read. They all watched as Tarnor read the document and grew more and more excited. The gargoyle's ears perked up and his eyes bulged. "Goddess! Do you realize what this section is describing? These are the Lost Powers! Reinald, look at this!" He thrust the scroll into the older Mage's hands. Reinald took a glance at the document, but as weakened as he was, he lacked the power to cast even a simple language spell. "It might be faster if you just told the rest of us what's in here." Scully took the translation they had made and read it aloud. When she had finished, Hannu spoke. "Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully and I have had a little time to think about the contents of the prophecy. We believe there is no question that the allusions to darkness and stench means the use of the Black Arts by this evil Mage. The prophecy also mentions quite clearly those weapons - the 'blue arrows' - that can be used to defeat her. I think it's also clear that the 'blue-cloaked Archer' is meant to signify a Mage. That's the only thing that makes any sense, in any case; no one but an enormously powerful Mage is going to be able to defeat the Dark Queen. But Tarnor - what did you mean by the...Lost Powers?" "The power to control and create great beasts, to control the elements - those are powers which are unknown to us. Except for Mulder's little display of causing the earth to tremble and split apart in Fawnleaf," the gargoyle grinned, "those powers have existed only in legend. Mages today refer to them simply as the Lost Powers." "This is true?" Hannu looked from Mulder to Reinald. "You really don't know the spells for that?" "Do you mean, you do?" asked Mulder excitedly. "Of course. Only the most powerful Mages could control them, so they were not used extensively. But yes, there should be no problem teaching you these spells." "All right! This is our first real break! The first 'clear blue arrow'!" the young Mage exulted. "Before you get too carried away," replied Hannu dryly, "let me point out to you that it is only one of the weapons that will be effective - and all three must be used. Not to put a damper on your exuberance, but I must tell you - our enemy also knows those spells." Scully's heart sank. "I guess we'd better figure out what those other two blue arrows are, then." "Excuse me." Shannon looked around the table. "Are you saying that you all seriously believe this prophecy? Even you, Scully?" She smiled tightly. "You're right, Shannon, I don't believe easily in such things. But I do learn from experience, and Mulder and I had some experience with one prophecy that ended up very close to the truth." Around the table, heads were nodding, remembering the prophecy that promised saviors from the Dark Creatures in the persons of two extraordinary strangers. She shrugged. "I can't explain it, but sometimes you have to accept these things." She turned from Shannon to address the Mages. She was still pale and shaken over the news about Corvay, and she would mourn his loss. But for the moment, the survival of the Realm had to take precedence. "It's more than unfortunate we can't translate that one passage completely. It appears to hold the key." "It's possible that a skilled Garsintil linguist might recognize those archaic symbols," said Tarnor, doubtfully. "I just don't know if we have the time to search someone out, and bring him or her here to study it." "Your mother couldn't do it?" Scully queried. He shook his head. "I don't think so. She's a linguist, yes, but she's also intensely practical and very busy. I don't think she would have taken the time to learn a lot of archaic stuff that never gets used." "And I don't think we have the time now in any case," commented Hannu. "Unless our enemy has changed drastically since we last met - and I don't think she has - I believe that right now she is preparing for a great battle. I feel she will strike soon for the ultimate domination or destruction of the Realm." "What makes you so sure, Mage Hannu?" Andalor asked gravely. "The violence she's causing to occur all over the land, the hatred she's stimulating. Your Majesty, she feeds on blood and hatred the way we feed on meat and bread. They make her stronger. So not only is she weakening the Realm, she is also gaining strength with every outbreak of trouble. There must be a reason for her to desire to grow as strong as possible in a relatively short time. And that can only be that she is readying herself for the battle ahead." "But why do you think it will be soon?" persisted the king. "Because this strength dissipates fairly quickly. She has to use it soon or it will begin to fade. My guess is that she will wait for the moment that she feels she has derived all the strength she will need, and then she will strike." "Very succinctly put, Mage. And quite daunting," replied Andalor grimly. "Are we ready? And what about the feasibility of another shield?" "As to whether or not we're ready, unfortunately it's impossible to say. I too would be happier if we could translate the key passage. Does anyone know what 'the Guardian' might refer to? No? That's unfortunate. What about the third weapon?" Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I...um...I might have the glimmer of an idea, but I'd rather not say anything until I've had a chance to think about it a bit." Scully turned to him questioningly, surprised to find he had put up a light shield. He looked at her apologetically, then his face cleared as she smiled. "As to the shield, Your Majesty, it must be your decision. It does not appear in the prophecy - unless 'the Guardian' might in some way refer to it, but I doubt it. Your shield was a defense only, not an offensive weapon. I personally feel that the only reason the shield worked is because she was loath to expend the power necessary to destroy it." "So, this is further evidence that she may strike at any time," reasoned Scully. "She could have destroyed the shield, but instead chose to save her power for the upcoming battle." "Precisely." He looked at her appreciatively. So quick- witted, so logical. So like - "Also, there is the effect on us of constructing a shield," added Mulder. "If the Black Mage is saving her strength, I think we would be well-advised to do the same. I'm sure Hannu and I could put up another shield, but at what price? If it knocks us out the way it did Reinald and Tarnor, we would be left extremely vulnerable. And we still haven't completely overcome the effects of constructing the Gate. If we have to invest time and energy in anything at this point, I'd prefer to use it to learn these Lost Powers." "And I agree," said Hannu quickly. Reinald looked at Tarnor, then back to Mulder. "I wish we could learn with you, Mage Mulder, but I'm afraid we will be of minimal assistance if she chooses to do battle any time soon." The gargoyle nodded in agreement. "At the moment, we do well to get out of bed and stagger to a chair. Our powers will take some time to regenerate fully." "Then there will be no shield," Andalor said decisively. "A pity, really. I would have liked to see the effect on Ballorca, if none of those invited could pass through the shield for the ceremony tomorrow." There was a choking sound from the other end of the table. "By your leave, Your Majesty," blurted Shannon, rising, then she ran from the chamber. "Thank you all for your counsel," the king said hurriedly. "You are free to leave whenever you wish." With that, he bolted from the room in pursuit of Shannon. - - - - - "Shannon! Shannon, wait up!" The stone hallway echoed with his pounding footsteps as he raced to catch up with her. He was answered by the slam of her door. Skidding to a stop, he hesitated only a moment and then opened it, and burst into the room. She lay prone on her bed, her head cradled in her arms, her shoulders shaking. At the second slam of the door, she raised her head. "Isn't it against protocol for you to be in here with me unchaperoned?" she asked bitterly. "Completely. But Shannon, I have to talk to you, try to explain-" "It's a pity you don't dispense with all protocol so easily." She sat up and impatiently wiped the tears from her cheeks. "All right, you're here. You want to talk, so talk." She slid off the high bed and walked down the length of the room past the king, her spine straight, her bearing regal. Indicating one of the chairs at the hearth for him, she sat in hers and waited. He walked over and sat next to her, leaning forward with his arms braced on his knees. "Shannon, I know what a shock all of this betrothal thing must be for you. You need to know that I did and said everything I could to get out of it. But everything in the Realm has turned to shit. Beings are killing each other all over the place, there's fighting in the streets, terrible storms.... Reinald's been worrying his head off and working himself into a coma - literally. He's the closest person I have to family. How could I give him even more to worry about? Ultimately, he's right - I have the Realm to think of." He shook his head. "I hate it," he muttered. "I hate my duty and I hate my responsibilities and I hate being king." He looked directly into her eyes. "But I'm stuck, Shannon. I can't do a thing about it. Things are in enough of a mess. I have to do what I'm doing right now. I hate it, but I have to do it." There was a long silence between them. "I know," she finally whispered. "I know you have to marry this other girl, and be the king, and put the Realm ahead of everything. Mulder had a long talk with me. I know it all, Andalor, and I understand. But that doesn't help what I'm feeling inside right now." She averted her gaze, looking into the fireplace so he wouldn't see the tears welling up again in her eyes. He leaned over and took her hand. "I-I wasn't sure what you felt. In a way, I was hoping that you didn't feel what I did. Then it would be so much easier on both of us. Well, on you anyway. But in another way, for purely selfish reasons, I am glad. Shannon, I'm in love with you." She was very still, then turned to face him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "And I'm in love with you, Andy. But that doesn't change a damn thing, does it?" "No. Maybe. I don't know," he said glumly. "If it's any comfort to you, Livirnea hates the whole idea too." "Livirnea?" "The girl I'm being betrothed to. She's a nice kid, incredibly smart. She doesn't want to marry me, and she doesn't want to be queen. She wants to study, to become a scientist. She's taking lessons from the Professor, who says she has a lot of natural talent. Livirnea and I have gotten to be good friends. But that's it - there will never be anything else between us." "Except for the fact that you and Livirnea will be expected to produce heirs to the throne." She looked at him pointedly. He blushed. "Yes...well.... The point is that tomorrow is only a betrothal ceremony. The marriage itself wouldn't take place for at least another two or three season-cycles. A lot can happen in that length of time." "Like what? What could possibly happen that would change things, Andalor?" she asked, exasperated. "Only if Livirnea died. And as much as I hate all of this, I wouldn't wish that for her. Besides, they'd only dig up another noble's daughter that the Council would approve of." "But if you stayed, at least we'd be able to see each other," he said hopefully. "Yeah - from a distance. They broke us up before, they made sure we were separated. Once you're betrothed and then married, it will be worse." "Not necessarily." Andalor appeared uncomfortable. "Look, I'm only telling you this so you know all the options, okay? So don't get mad. Royal marriages by tradition have always been arranged, usually for political gain. This means that the king and queen don't necessarily love each other, or even like each other. So because of the long tradition of arranged marriages, there is an equally long tradition of...overlooking ...certain royal...indiscretions." He kept his eyes on the floor. Shannon stared at him as the meaning of his words sank in. "Forget it! No way! It's bad enough that the Council doesn't think I'm fit to marry you. I refuse to be an 'indiscretion'! I won't sneak around to meet you behind Livirnea's back. I love you, Andalor, but I won't do it!" He smiled shyly. "Actually, I thought you'd feel like that. Maybe in a way, I'm glad. It just seems to me to be such a sordid thing to do, tradition or not. I wouldn't want anything like that to touch what we feel for each other. Shannon, if I were an artisan, or a trader, or a guard or anything else, you know I'd marry you in a heartbeat, don't you?" She smiled. "I didn't, but I do now. And it helps. A little." "What are you going to do?" "I don't know, Andalor, I really don't. I was going to stay on in the Realm after Mulder and Scully went back to our world. I mean, why not, there's really nothing for me to go back to. But now...I don't know if I could stand being around you and knowing we could never be together. I'm going to have to think about it." Andalor stood and extended a hand to help her up. "I hope you stay, Shannon. But in any event, I want you to know that not a candlemark will go by - ever - without my thinking about you." He tugged gently on her hand, bringing her close to him. Slowly his lips descended on hers in a kiss so sweet, so heartfelt, it brought tears to the eyes of both of the young lovers. "I-I'd better go. I love you, Shannon." He wheeled and hurried out the door before she could react. Mind reeling, she stared after him. "I love you, Andalor," she whispered. - - - - - The day of the betrothal dawned so beautiful that some thought that Ballorca must have had the ear of the Goddess herself. There were fanciful flower arrangements everywhere, their scent wafted through the sunlit air by the light breeze. Servants scurried to and from the Great Hall making last minute preparations, musicians tuned their instruments, and guards donned their dress uniforms and glittering armor. //Are you ready?\\ //Just about.\\ Scully smoothed the dark green silk of her dress and fastened the gold chain belt around her slim waist. She slipped an ornate but lethal looking ivory-hilted dagger into its golden sheath. This was to be a festive occasion, but a warrior was always prepared. //I'm just going over to Shannon's room to see how she's doing. Meet us there?\\ //Okay. Good luck.\\ //Yeah.\\ His reply was unenthusiastic. He left their chamber and strode the short distance up and across the corridor to his Shannon's room and knocked softly. "Come in." Mulder opened the door and peeked inside. "Scully and I are almost ready. Shannon, you look beautiful!" She laughed shortly. "Yeah. For all the good it's doing me." She closed her eyes and then turned to him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Thank you. I'm almost ready. Please come in." She stood in the looking glass, making infinitesimally small adjustments to her hair and gown. Her dress was heavy satin in purest white, with a diaphanous green train that caught at her shoulders to float to the floor behind her. She too wore a slim gold belt at her waist, with a small jeweled dirk already in its sheath. Her hair was loose, smoothed back from her face by golden combs, to emerge as a shining ebony cascade down her back. Mulder leaned back against the table, his arms folded in front of his chest. He regarded her with sympathy. "You don't have to do this, you know. You don't have to go if it's going to upset you. I'm sure Andalor and Reinald and the others would understand." She sighed. "I don't want to go, believe me. But I guess I have to get used to the idea sometime. It might as well be now." After a final adjustment, she walked over to him. He put his arm around her. "I'm so proud of you." She smiled shyly up at him. "Thanks. I just hope I can pull it off. Well, let's go face the music." They met Scully in the corridor and together walked out across the courtyard, filing in with the throng to the Great Hall. Inside there was a riot of color and sound. Musicians played their wind and string instruments as hundreds of beings milled around in their finery. Bunting billowed from the beams and columns, directing the eye to the raised platform at the far end of the Hall. The three scanned the crowd, finally spotting Aldara and Jourdain holding little Daanna in the crowd, and made their way to their friends. Suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets, and the throng parted to make a wide aisle from the doorway to the dais. Anatha, the high priestess, led the way, followed by a somber Andalor. Reinald entered next, leaning heavily on the arm of Healer Sirisa, then Livirnea started down the aisle. The girl looked young and vulnerable, casting her eyes around as if looking for a way to escape. Her parents followed, Mandor looking proud and aristocratic in his scarlet and gray, Norilka looking smug and haughty. After them, prominent members of the Noble Houses entered, their expressions running the gamut from joy to undisguised envy. Finally, the Council of Representatives filed down the aisle - a diminished Council, since many were unable to travel to Fairwoods due to local unrest and the recent storms. There were no seats. Since the king had to remain standing throughout the long ceremony, his subjects would have to as well. When everyone had taken their places on or surrounding the dais, the fanfare stopped. Then, in the Old Realm tongue of ritual, the priestess began to chant. "Well, here we go," muttered Mulder. It promised to be a long morning. - - - - - She moved easily in the preternatural dark of her chamber. It was to be now. The moment she had waited for her entire existence. Her heart pounded in anticipation of the blood, the vengeance, the satisfaction, the triumph to come. Only one thing left to do before putting her plan into motion. She yanked on the bell pull. When a lackey arrived, she said only, "Bring him to the Chamber." No other explanation was given, or needed. The gluttony in her eyes was all too apparent to the servant. He knew exactly where to bring the poor damned wretch, and how to prepare him. She grasped the hematite sphere and let it take up her thoughts. In her mind's eye, a scene of celebration came into view. She saw the excited, joyous crowd, she saw the king and the priestess, she saw the pale slight girl who would be queen. Or rather, who would NOT be queen. An ice-cold cackle escaped her throat as she returned the sphere to its stand. Not even the memory of the previous day's failure to disrupt the Gate bothered her now. In the end, it would make no difference. And the end was very, very near. She swept down the dank spiral staircase from her tower room all the way down to the dungeon. The few unfortunates still alive down there shrank back as she made her way down the noisome hall to an archway at the end. She went through the opening and descended yet another staircase, making her way to the solitary door. The foul odor of old blood rushed to greet her as she opened the door, and she sniffed the air appreciatively. She lit a sputtering torch and took the only seat in the chamber of horror. Next to the wooden chair was a small low table, on which sat a black pottery bowl and a ladle. The floor was slightly concave, dipping down from the perimeter to the center of the room, where an enormously wide but shallow metal basin was set into the floor. Everywhere - floor, walls, and ceiling - bloodstains decorated the hideous chamber. She sighed in contentment. This room would see much more use in the near future, she promised herself. The sound of terrified jabbering punctuated by terse grunts reached her ears and she sat forward expectantly. A creaking door, some scuffling, and the lackey shoved Drellor into the room before slamming the door behind him. "Ah, Prince Drellor. I'm so happy you consented to join me," she said silkily. "I demand my clothing!" He stood before her, trembling - with fear, indignation, cold, or perhaps all three. His sole vestment was a brief loincloth. "You are attired exactly as I ordered." He peered at her and a crafty look stole into his eyes. "If it is a tryst you have in mind, my lady, I perform better in more salubrious surroundings." She appeared startled for a moment and then began to laugh in genuine amusement. "That's why you think I brought you here? Ah, Drellor, just when I think you can get no more stupid, you always surprise me." She wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes and chuckled again. "Oh my, no, Prince Drellor. I have brought you here today for something very special. It appears you are to achieve your dream - that of being useful to me." With a negligent flick of her wrist, he found himself levitated half a meter off the floor. With a slight jerk, he glided toward her to rest over the center of the large metal basin. His limbs were frozen, his legs slightly separated, his arms out a little from his body. "By rights you should be naked, but I thought that might have an adverse effect on my stomach. I have my appetite to consider, you know." She paced at the perimeter of the bowl, looking at her hapless victim appraisingly. "Now, I'm sure you are simply dying to know how you're going to help me." He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. She paced back to her chair and sat. A tiny motion of her finger turned her captive to face her. She frowned briefly in concentration and extended her hand. Sparks of black energy, sharp as shards of shattered crystal, bolted from her finger to pepper Drellor's body in a dozen places. His lips opened in a silent shriek as his flesh was cut and began to stream blood. A lucky hit opened his brachial artery, causing bright red blood to gush from the wound to the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat. Beneath him, he could hear the pinging sound as, drop by drop, his life dripped into the metal basin. "There. I believe you get the idea now. Your mind was of no use to me, your body is loathsome, but your blood.... Ah, now that's a very different thing." She rose and strode around her victim, drawing a long taloned finger roughly across one of his lacerations. She brought the gory finger to her mouth and tasted his blood with a look of ecstasy on her face. "I am off to do battle, Prince Drellor, and a warrior must have sustenance if the battle is to be won. My plans, my dreams, will be realized this day. I'd like to thank you for your part in it, for you will be providing me with that crucial last meal before battle. Now, if you don't mind, this may take some time and I'd like to get on with it. I have a very pressing appointment that I simply can't be late for." She extended her hand again as his mouth opened to scream. End Chapter Twenty One THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 22 Shannon shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She hadn't been happy about attending the ceremony in the first place, and standing here for hours while the priestess droned on about the responsibilities of the kingship and the glorious history of Andalor's house did not make it any easier. The Great Hall was a vivid, brightly colored sea of beings, all decked out in their full ceremonial regalia. The colors of the houses clashed with one another in a patchwork human quilt. The Elves were arrayed in shimmering robes of gold and silver and the Trolls were covered in multi-hued swaths of cloth. The Gargoyles were the most sedate, and even they glittered, fanciful arrays of metalwork wound around their arms and necks, rising to elaborate headpieces above their large ears. The display was breathtaking at first sight, tiresome at second, and finally headache-producing. Mulder threw her a worried glance as he felt her wriggle. He unobtrusively slid an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her gently. She leaned against him with a sigh, turning to look up into his hazel eyes. He smiled softly, leaning over to whisper softly in her ear. "It won't be that much longer. I think they're almost to his grandfather." "I hope so," she whispered back, frowning. Shannon glanced up at Andalor, who was standing on a large semi-circular platform, as motionless as a marble statue, draped in thick velvet robes. The fierce emblem of his house, a golden falcon with an emerald eye, weighed heavily on his breast. The massive crown sat precariously upon his fair head, and he seemed afraid to move for fear of it tumbling to the floor. Beside him, Livirnea was a vision in white, lovely and innocent, almost wraithlike in her gleaming ivory dress and veil. Her golden hair was bound up into an elaborate coiffure, held in place by silver pins that glittered with the slightest motion of her head. Shannon's gut clenched at the sight, a hard fist of envy closing on her lungs. She hated having to stand here and pretend not to care as the man she loved became engaged to another woman. And perhaps the very worst of it was that she couldn't even dislike the Ranfaus heiress, for the girl was friendly and intelligent. Under other circumstances, they could well have been friends, but now.... Shannon was too jealous and angry to care. Even the knowledge that Livirnea didn't want to marry Andalor anymore than he wanted to marry her didn't ease her pain. Mulder felt Shannon's body tense as her eyes fixed on the young queen-to-be, and he felt his stomach turn over. He desperately wished there was something he could do to save her the heartache he knew she was suffering. But there was little he could do but provide her with his love and support, and hope that it would be enough. //It's more than enough,\\ Scully told him, easily picking up his thoughts. He turned to gaze affectionately down at the burnished copper of her hair. She tilted her chin up to smile at him, blue eyes sparkling, before turning back to watch the ponderous ritual continue on the dais before them. //I hope so,\\ he responded, his emotions raw and tangled. He wished desperately that Shannon could find the happiness that he had found with Scully. His convenience-assumed responsibility towards the young girl had become a matter of the heart. The bond formed between them during their months in the Realm was a deep one, and Mulder considered Shannon more a part of his family than his 'real' blood-relatives had ever been. Not a substitute for the long- missing Samantha, for no one could ever be, but still dearly beloved. Her anguish at watching Andalor become engaged to another girl was his sorrow as well, and if he could have spilled his own blood to save her that pain he'd have done so without hesitation. But there was nothing that could be done. Andalor was king, and as such had heavy responsibilities to his people and his land. This ceremony could help to hold the tattered kingdom together, giving them a desperately-needed respite from the troubles raging across the Realm. They needed time to plan and regroup, to find a way to counter the magical attacks that were slowly, but surely, destroying the fragile peace. Mulder had no doubts that the battle would only escalate from here, and that the mysterious Black Mage would not stop until she had destroyed them all. Yet, there had to be a way to defeat her, and Mulder was determined to find it. The priestess stopped chanting, leaving a tense, pregnant hush hovering over the entire crowd. Andalor held out his hand to Livirnea and she moved gracefully before him, taking his hand between both of hers and sinking to her knees on the floor. She bowed her fair head over their clasped hands, and waited for the priestess to speak. "Today is a time of great rejoicing in the Realm," the white-robed elder chanted, her plain hands held high above Livirnea's hard. "Today our king has chosen his queen. Today we celebrate the binding of this man to this woman, a promise for the future. May the Goddess grant that their union be as bountiful as the land itself. May the bond between them bind us all as one people. May the joy of this day bring peace to all the land. In the name of the Goddess, in all of her incarnate forms, I bless..." At first Mulder thought the sound was simply the roar of the crowd, a thousand voices raised as one, reverberating against the high ceiling. Yet, the sound increased, becoming the high wail of a mighty wind, the air itself screaming in pain. The floor began to shake beneath their feet -- and then the crowd was shouting, voices intermingled in one senseless cry of astonishment and fear. //Mulder, what's happening?\\ Scully grasped his arm, and he closed his hand over hers, steadying her as best he could. The floor began to rock openly now, tumbling the spectators to the ground in writhing piles of beings. Shannon, still nestled against her guardian's side, had her eyes fixed on the raised platform above them, and it was her voice that gave the first warning. "NO, ANDALOR -- WATCH OUT!" No sooner than her voice had risen above the whine of the wind than the center of the dais split wide open, the sides tilting down towards the yawning crevice. Andalor, Livirnea and the priestess were all thrown off their feet, as the slab they were standing on rose three feet into the air, then settled with a dull thud, sliding precariously towards the rift. The priestess screamed high, her body twisting as she fought for purchase and lost, tumbling into the dark earth below her. Andalor managed to grab hold of the edge of broken stone with his free hand, his other still clenched tightly on Livirnea's. She hung from their clasped hands, her feet dangling into empty space, the soft slippers unable to find friction on the smoothly polished marble. Andalor felt his grip beginning to weaken, and an agonized cry formed in his mouth. His fingers struggled to hang on just a moment longer... And then suddenly, a massive fist closed in painfully around his wrist. He finally cried out, only to be answered with a deep growl. "I've got you, Your Majesty." Jourdain. Andalor felt tears form in his eyes with the swell of relief. Blinking them back, he turned his attention to Livirnea, closing his own hand as tightly on hers. He might not have wanted to marry her, but he'd come to deeply respect his queen-to-be. He wasn't going to lose her like this. Muscles bulged in Jourdain's massive arms as he fought to bring the two teenagers up to safer ground. Not that any place in the giant hall was truly safe. The crowd was in panic, beings of all species desperate to escape the death trap, clambering over each other, screaming in horror as more crevices opened, sending the unfortunates tumbling downward, the entire floor shifting and flowing like flotsam on the sea. Hannu, Reinald, and Tarnor were huddled together on the edge of the dais, blue sparks flying from their fingers as they sought to fight against the unseen force. The Royal Mage and the gargoyle were still weak, barely able to protect those closest to them. Hannu was a column of fierce blue power, closing crevice after crevice, only to find two more splitting open for each one he sealed. Mulder's first concern was Scully, Shannon and Aldara. Fear and anger boiling within him, he levitated the women, little Daanna held snugly in her mother's arms, to the edge of what had been the platform, settling them down neatly beside Reinald. They gasped as the spell released them, finding themselves standing again on unsteady ground. //MULDER!\\ Scully called out, but he was already moving, darting through the hysterical, panicked mass, fighting his way towards the shattered dais. A woman stumbled into his path, and he instinctively picked her up. She sobbed, clutching at his robe, and abruptly he recognized her as Norilka of Ranfaus. "My daughter," she cried, recognizing him. "You must save my daughter!" Mulder's eyes darted upwards to find Jourdain and another of his guards desperately trying to haul Andalor up from the pit. Livirnea couldn't be seen, but it was obvious Andalor was holding onto someone below him. Norilka was screaming now, hysterical, her husband laying bloody and bruised a few feet away. Mulder shook her, then pushed her towards the unconscious householder. "See to your husband," he demanded. "Go, NOW!" and she responded automatically to the ring of authority in his voice, staggering away to collapse by her wounded husband's side. Mulder was away in an instant, leaping up, sparks flying from his fingertips. His eyes closed for a brief moment, then blue flame arched from his outflung arm, the sapphire ring blazing with light. The azure glow enveloped the two soldiers, then flowed downwards to encase the king and the girl dangling from his arm. Mulder frowned, focusing, somehow managing to stay steady and upright even as the ground tilted beneath his feet. His hands lifted, and king came up with them. Andalor's breath caught in his lungs as the blue light surrounded him and Livirnea, then began to lift them upwards like a feather on the wind. It was instinctive to reach for support beneath his feet, and he wriggled within the soft cocoon of gleaming light. It held him, and Livirnea as well, cradling them as they rose swiftly above the broken platform then wavered downward to settle between the stunned Jourdain and the group of Mages standing like an oasis of calm. Livirnea sobbed, clutching at Andalor as they were released from Mulder's spell, again feeling the ground shake beneath them. He cradled her as best he could, waiting for Jourdain and his men to gather around and sweep them both closer to Reinald and Tarnor. The young king passed off his hysterical almost-fiancee to Scully, and then turned roughly towards Jourdain and Reinald. "By the Gods, what is happening?" "Mage-attack!" Reinald uttered between gritted teeth. The veins pulsed weakly beneath his parchment like skin. He was inches from fading into unconsciousness, only his fierce determination to protect his king and people keeping him from collapse. Mulder leapt up beside them, his mind reaching for Scully's even as his eyes focused on Jourdain. He smiled ferally. "I'd guess our Black Lady didn't like the idea of someone else being made queen." As though in confirmation, another loud thunderclap sounded, followed by a colored rain of wood and stone fragments, the roof sagging above their heads. Moving as one, Hannu and Mulder tossed a gleaming weave of blue strands upwards, arresting the collapsing roof and holding it suspended in mid-air above the cowering crowds. "We've got to get people out of here!" Andalor shouted. Jourdain nodded grimly, frowning as he quickly assessed the situation. His soldiers were doing the best they could, but the mass of beings was surging in all directions, climbing over each other in a desperate attempt to get out through the two doors. There was no way they could control the mob now, and people were already being trampled. If only there were more exits.... "Mulder, can you break down one of the walls to let people through?" Jourdain asked urgently. Mulder glanced at him, looked back at the screaming mass of people, and his jaw tightened. He barely blinked his understanding before he was focusing the power, a boiling white and blue mass forming around his hands. His face took on the aspect of a stone carving, his eyes shuttered as he concentrated, mouthing the focus chant through gritted teeth. His ring sparked, the color wound into the gleaming sphere of power as he lifted it -- and threw. The far wall shattered outward in a silent explosion, littering the courtyard with pieces of masonry. Moments later, the crowd was massing through the opening, climbing over the jagged remnants of the wall in their desperate haste to escape the shaking room. But the ground outside the Great Hall was no safe haven, the entire courtyard trembling as the earth itself seemed to come alive, shifting and moving randomly beneath their feet. Hundreds of voices wailed in one grating shriek of horror, as nobles tumbled over elves, gargoyles over trolls. The shimmering brightness of their clothes dimmed beneath the onslaught of the Black Mage's fury. Householders fell amid their servants, nobility of birth no shelter from the ravaging elements and famished earth. Marvick of Dordinal fell beneath a pile of stone, Horvay of Maalfes toppled into a widening crevice, his wife barely clinging to the broken earth long enough to be drawn up by her eldest son. Ballorca was hysterical, unable to comprehend the forces laying waste to his devastated triumph; he stood like an island in the flood of the panicked crowd, wringing his hands and shouting nonsensical orders at long-fled servants. Finally, with a gurgle, he went down beneath a flood of water spilling through the cracks in the ceiling, tumbling to rest in a soaked pile of rubble. "It's spreading!" Jourdain yelled, struggling for balance as the ground shook yet again. Tarnor shouted something and the small area around them stabilized, but it was the last of the gargoyle Mage's strength and he fell limply to the floor. "Tarnor!" Aldara cried, kneeling down beside her unconscious friend. Daanna clung to her mother's arm, remaining silent, her bright blue eyes wide with fear. She trembled, then suddenly let go of Aldara running beneath the adults' feet to stand between Mulder and Hannu. Both Mages were too busy trying to keep the castle from sinking into the hungry earth to notice her until she screamed loudly. "She comes!! The Dark Lady comes!" The childish voice rose in a piercing shriek, repeating the warning over and over again. "She comes...she comes...she comes..." Daanna raised her arms and pointed a chubby forefinger towards the far corner of the room. An unearthly mist was swirling, tendrils wavering in the wind like a black spiderweb. The stench of the evil magic filled the air, making Mulder's nostrils flare and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The mist obscured the back half of the room now, raging at the backs of the remnants of the mob as they streamed out into the rocky, broken courtyard, fleeing helplessly. Hannu and Mulder both turned towards the noxious mist simultaneously, but Mulder paused to shout above the howl of the wind and the screams of the wounded. "No, Hannu! Leave her to me! You have to keep the roof from caving in and get everyone to safety," he commanded. Not waiting for a reply, he leapt forward, blue fire crackling around his agile body as he moved. "Mulder, NO!" Scully shouted, racing after him. Jourdain tried to hold her back, but she twisted out of his grasp, following Mulder as he weaved his way through the debris. Shannon was after her an instant later. But there wasn't far to go. Mulder came up short as the dark mist surged in his direction, the edges sizzling as they came in contact with his blue flame. The heavens boiled above them as his power rose to meet that of the attacking Mage, forming two fiery columns, one of light and one of darkness. Standing encased in a circle of blue flame, Mulder tossed white thunderbolts at the center of the dark web. It roiled and smoldered in response, sucking in the light with bursts of sickly smelling black rain. The droplets sizzled on the ground, etching their way into stone like a caustic acid. Mulder raised his hands, and the elements answered. Lightning flashed, thunder pealed, storm clouds gathered and broke. A flood of rain burst, sliding through the cracks in the fragmented ceiling, sliding through the brilliant blue strands of Mage-energy that held the heavy beams of stone and wood from crashing downward. Rain fell in waves and random bursts, washing away the oily acid that scorched the ground, covering everything in a sheen of moisture. Mulder stood motionless, his cloak whipping around his legs, his hair wind-tossed and wild around his determined face. His eyes blazed like sunlight striking obsidian, the green highlights submerged into the fierceness of his battle against the unseen enemy. "Come on!" he shouted. "Come on, damn you. Show yourself," he challenged fiercely. And at last she did, faintly, a shadowed, slender figure floating in a sea of darkness. Mulder lanced the air with an azure lightening bolt; she raised her hand and swept it aside with a spattering of ebony sparks, glowing like pieces of hot coal tossed into the air. Laughter echoed, sultry and warm, yet as pointed as a fine arrow's edge. "I come soon enough, Mage. Bow down before your queen, all of you!" Her voice was like the wind itself, it came from everywhere and nowhere, surrounding them. It was seductive and cold, enticing and crystalline. Mulder shivered as it caressed his spine, tingling across his nerves. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tensed, and he poised himself like a panther prepared to strike. She strode forward, giving him just a glimpse of fire- touched eyes and ivory skin, before her cloak of darkness swirled between them again. Mulder waited, waited, drawing his own power around him like a gleaming blue blanket. He waited...then struck out suddenly, fire pulsing from his fingertips. The Dark Lady screamed this time, a feral shriek that rose above the icy wind. Mulder's answering growl was low, a soft thunder that formed deep within his chest. Her Gate was incomplete, and Mulder fought for control of it, twining blue strands around the ebony filaments, anchoring the magical doorway, and slicing it open. The massive energies screeched and swirled, as two opposing forces moved gratingly to one purpose, like giant gears grinding out of phase. At last, the archway was grounded, blue light framing the darkened opening, the black mist and azure flame dancing around each other, stabbing and retreating, sliding across each other. The Dark Lady poised herself at the door, prepared to come through, but Mulder got there first. Leaping across the short space between them, Mulder tackled her, hitting her just as she had taken one step into the shattered Great Hall. She cried out, the sound strangling in her throat as he tossed her backwards. //MULDER!!\\ Scully shrieked, throwing herself after her bondmate. She tumbled through the doorway, Shannon barely a few steps behind. "No, Shannon!!" Andalor cried, racing out after her. Jourdain reached to restrain him, only to be buffeted backwards as an another tremor rocked the ground. The king bolted through the fiery Gate, followed barely a heartbeat later by another tiny form. "Aaaiiieeee...DAANNA!!!" Aldara howled as only a mother can, leaping over fallen masonry and bodies, fighting desperately to reach her daughter before it was too late. "Aldara, Daanna, Andalor!" Shouts rang out from the rest of the group, Jourdain struggling to regain his footing. He was too late, they were all too late. Even Hannu's attempt at extending magical assistance fell short. No more than an instant after Andalor and the little girl had raced through the Gate than it sputtered, darkened, and then imploded, the air squeezing in on itself into one tiny dark ball whimpering out of existence. Aldara fell to her knees amid a pile of shattered wood, sobbing, clawing at the floor. "Daanna....DAANNA!!!!" - - - - - Andalor stumbled, finding himself suddenly in the dark. Blinking he grabbed onto a nearby wall-hanging, then focused on a pair of vague shapes in front of him. A flash of blue light shattered the darkness, making him squeeze his eyes shut, though not before the image etched itself into his retina. "Shannon!" he yelled, running towards her. She spun, falling into a fighting crouch, then jerking upright when she recognized him. "Andy?" She called out, meeting him in the corner of the darkened room. "What the hell are you doing here?" "I followed you!" he answered. "What did you think you were doing diving into that...thing! And where are we, anyway?" "I don't know," she replied. Another bright explosion rocked the room, illuminating the scene in a brilliant blue gleam. They were in a circular enclosure, standing close to one of four velvet-draped windows. The walls were lined with books, the floor was a mass of chalked drawings and spattered stains, marring the once fine marble with crusty deposits and dust. The center of the room was monopolized by a giant sphere, blacker than the deepest night. And yet it seemed to glow - or perhaps the opposite, it made its presence known by the very absence of light. It sucked in every tendril of sunshine and candleflame that dared to come near. Another bright flash, a whooshing sound, the flare swallowed by the spinning orb, but still enough for Shannon and Andalor to see Mulder facing off against the slender figure of a woman, dressed in ebony silk, a polished silver crown gleaming against the raven black of her hair. Reddened fingertips clawed at the air as she circled warily, facing off against her opponent with an air of calculating arrogance. Scully was standing a few paces behind Mulder, a small ivory-hilted dagger held out before her. Her fiery hair was tumbled around her heart-shaped face, her green dress torn and askew on her shoulders. A tawny wildcat, fighting for her mate. No one noticed the final visitor, Daanna's tiny form nearly invisible as she huddled beneath a table, her blue eyes wide and knowing, her entire body tensed and waiting. The Dark Lady shouted incomprehensible syllables, and something unseen swept down from the ceiling with a grating squeal. Mulder didn't move his eyes from his adversary; he gestured gracefully, the sweep of his hand forming a glittering blue glyph that floated in the air, then lifted at a single spoken command to counter the attack. Blue flame sparked, the squeal broke off into a whistling howl, and then fell silent. The Dark Lady growled. Mulder grinned, briefly, a mobile flash of teeth that never touched his burning hazel eyes. He lifted his hands again, and this time the attack was made of light, searing platinum that swirled and flowed, skirting the edge of the center sphere and arrowing in on the Black Mage. She laughed, the sound harsher than the winter wind, her own elegant hands weaving the counter spell with fierce efficiency. Again the attack was met in mid-air, sputtering to a silent end before hitting its quarry. Then it was her turn, and this time the spell chant was louder, her voice keening, rising higher and higher, until it tore at their senses, forcing cries from their lips. Mulder, alone, ignored it, his own voice singing in baritone counterpoint. Her voice crashed, like a peal of thunder, her hand gestured, pointing, and something began to form at the edge of the sphere. It grew outward, an amorphous black cloud that slowly took horrific shape. The head was wolf-like, jagged teeth gnashing beneath glowing red eyes, the body massive, powerful shoulders and long clawed legs, bat-like wings sprouting from its back. It roared, leaping into the air and hovering for one terrifying moment. "Watch out!" Shannon yelled, reaching instinctively for a sword that wasn't there, crying out when Andalor grabbed her and shoved her to the floor. The creature swooped down, barely missing them, its curved talons striking hard against the marble floor just beyond them. That was enough for Scully, she leapt at it, ignoring Mulder's shout to stay back. Striking swiftly, she slashed its foreleg, then leapt away. It roared, turning with incredible speed towards her, only to be hit with a brilliant bolt of light. It screeched, shuddering, allowing Scully to scramble out of reach. //GET OUT OF HERE!!\\ Mulder demanded, even as he focused on an intricate spell. //NO WAY!\\ came Scully's fiery reply. Racing to stand again at his side, her mind was resolute. He didn't argue further. Already the spell was taking shape, all of his energy channeled into making it a living reality. Scully felt his need pull upon her, and she slipped easily into their link, feeding him strength, bolstering his focus. His hands wove the air itself, building from memory and imagination -- the shape forming beneath slender fingers, rising and flowing, fluid of form, a creature made from flame, coalescing by Mage's spell into fiery reality. It flew, rising on a wingspan that covered the room in an umbrella of iridescent scales, aqua and silver, gold and platinum, shimmering, brilliant. The eyes were diamonds, the talons like earth-toned daggers; the dragon-image snorting with sudden life. It beat its wings for a breathtaking heartbeat, then curled them up across its broad shoulders and dove like an avenging angel towards the snarling wolfbeast. The creatures collided, talons raking fur, claws scraping on scales, dark mist and blue flame tangling, steaming. They fell apart and rolled, forcing the humans to scatter to the corners. Mulder staggered into Scully's arms, and she fell to her knees beneath his weight. He was lost in concentration, every muscle in his body straining, every nerve ending tingling, as he sought to control the beast he had created. It sang, a silvery musical chime, rising on the notes to touch the ceiling, then circling, wary and poised, luminescent eyes focused on its opponent. The Dark Lady rested back against the wall, her hands clenched into fists, her will streaming almost visibly from her to her own vicious creation. The wolfbeast stirred, launching itself to sit atop the burning nothingness of the spinning sphere, feeding from the darkness beneath its feet. It roared a challenge, and the blue dragon whistled its reply, dashing downward to sweep the dark beast's head with a piercing talon. The beast screamed, leaping aside, then turning to pounce. Dripping teeth took hold of an iridescent wing and scraped across the surface of the slippery scales. The dragon whined as it was punctured, falling sideways, ripping itself free. A few scales fell loose, and the wing curled up, the jagged edges rough and angry. Mulder's own scream echoed that of his creation, he clutched at his hand, long claw marks etching their way into his skin. Blood pooled in the gashes, dripping through his fingers, spattering on his robe. //Mulder!\\ Scully cried into his mind, feeling his pain in her own body, sharing his agony as her own. Closing her eyes, she focused her healing senses down his arm, the long tears in his skin slowly closing under her command. As his wounds healed, so did those on the dragon. It turned, unfolding the damaged wing, the scales reforming whole, scratched but unbroken. Mulder lifted his head, his hazel eyes burning with anger and anguish, and his dragon leapt upwards, closing back in on the wolfbeast that awaited it, crouched against the hard stone floor. The creatures tumbled against each other, each injury reflected on the controlling Mage, each cured by the strength of the Mage's will. The dragon tore bloody patches of skin from the wolfbeast, and the beast crunched a foreleg between its massive jaws. They fell apart, hopping now, neither quite able to take flight, but Mages' power was stronger than flesh, and yet again they lifted up, only to collide again. And then again. Shannon and Andalor huddled in a corner, clinging to each other, covering half-blinded eyes with trembling forearms. Thunder crashed and lightning pealed, a storm raging outside to match the one within. The Dark Lady howled as the dragon took an eye, gouging it out with curved fore-talon, blood gushing down her cheeks. Mulder's voice rose in an agonized shriek as the dragon was tossed against the floor, pain blossoming in his mind. Scully was there to share it and to conquer it; she was his anchor. She healed his mind and body, held him firmly to his purpose, cleared away the blindness of the power, the white-hot sheen of rage, grounding him always within her love. He clung to her physically, relied on her mentally, letting her support all his needs except the drive to win this battle. It could have been a single candlemark, it could have been a thousand; time lost all meaning. Nothing mattered but talons against teeth, scales against claws, wings striking wings. Both Mages fell to their knees, then down to crouch against the floor, all energy focused upwards and outwards, nothing left to hold their physical frames upright. The sphere settled down upon its pedestal, energy draining from it at a massive rate. Scully grew terrified for Mulder, and she cradled him, struggling to keep his heart beating and his lungs drawing air. The creatures fought... And then, as suddenly as it began, the conflict ended in a fury of powerful wings and gnashing teeth. The wolfbeast howled as it was lifted and tossed, striking the seemingly quiescent sphere with a shriek that made the ground itself shudder. It draped across the sphere, and then was sucked up within it, but not before a flood of oily darkness spattered upwards, coating the dragon's wings in a sticky caustic tar. Blood, yet not blood, it burned like acid. The dragon screamed, collapsing to the floor, steaming as it melted. Mulder pushed himself up onto his knees, his chest heaving. The Dark Lady moved to a three-point crouch. He stretched out a hand, the blue flame sparkling weakly. His opponent ignored him. One eye swollen shut, she focused the other on the two teenagers cowering in the far corner, and her gesture towards them. "Die, false king!" she shouted, though the words came out in a hoarse croak, the sultry sound of her voice ripped to shreds from the strain of the battle. "Die..." Black flame sparked out at Andalor's head, and Shannon screamed, shoving him down. Blue light flared around her, shielding them both in a shimmering cocoon. The ebony fire hissed as it hit that azure barrier, sliding across its surface, boiling backwards and away. The Black Mage whined with frustration, striking out harder, but Shannon's shield only flared stronger, her fear and desperation fired by her love for the man she protected. "STOP!" Mulder cried out, forcing his way to his feet. "Your fight is with me! Leave them out of it." His voice was as harsh as hers had been, pushed out between pain-clenched teeth and parched lips. He stumbled closer to the hematite sphere, his aura flickering white-edged. The Dark Lady turned towards him, an animalistic snarl contorting her elegant features into a horrific mask. "Yes, Mage, my fight is with you. For now. But when you are dead at my feet, the others are mine. I will feed from their blood and delight in their screams. But first...oh yes, first....you - and the woman who cowers behind you." Scully leapt to Mulder's side. "I cower behind no one!" Mulder tried to shove her back; she refused, clinging to his arm. The Black Mage laughed icily. "Come, come, my dear. Come to me!" She extended a red-tipped finger towards Scully, barking out an unintelligible command. The red-haired woman trembled, feet sliding forward of their own command. //NO!\\ Mulder cried as he felt her being drawn forward by an invisible force. He seized her hand and pulled with all his eroded strength. But he only succeeded in being drawn with her, their feet slipping helplessly on the slick stone floor. "NO!" Mulder screamed aloud, launching a firebolt of his own at the Dark Lady. She leapt aside, her shoulder sizzling from the brief contact with his power. She launched a return attack, and he tumbled to the floor, knocking Scully down with him. Yet, Scully was still caught within the spell, and now began to crawl across the room on hands and knees, every muscle in her body tensed and trembling with silent resistance, even as they were forced to obey the black spell. Mulder grabbed for her ankle with one hand, simultaneously sending out another jolt of power. The battle resumed, both Mages tossing lightning bolts, exploding in the air like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July. Scully was caught between them, being torn in two directions, the Black Mage's enchantment compelling her forward, Mulder desperately restraining her. But inch by inch, she was drawn closer to their enemy until the Dark Lady could -- and did -- reach out to seize her wrist. Scully howled at that touch, and Mulder's aura flamed, brilliant glowing fire. Thunder crashed and the castle shook. The Dark Lady shrieked in response, but held on, turning Scully into a living battleground. Scully convulsed, her body lifting to float above the floor, astonishing currents of energy flowing across her body, her entire nervous system turned into one giant electrical circuit. Mulder shook with her pain, feeling it all as one with her. But he was as caught as she was, the only alternative was to give her up, and that he wouldn't, couldn't do. He'd die with her, but never without her. His mind slid into hers; and they became literally one. His strength and hers focused into one living being; his power focused and controlled by the one that they were. Together they fought, straining to break free of the ebony cobwebs binding them. "Malvina! Her name is Malvina!" A shrill, childish voice screamed. No one listened. Yet the voice did not stop, rising and falling with the wind that battered against the castle walls. A tiny hand closed on Mulder's calf and dug in, tugging, yanking, fighting for attention. It penetrated slowly, achingly, finally boring into the edge of the raging joint consciousness. "Use her name -- it is Malvina. Her name is Malvina!" "Malvina?" Mulder and Scully's ravaged mouths formed the syllables simultaneously, both voices adding up barely to a whisper, but it was enough. The Dark Lady staggered, releasing her hold on Scully and collapsing back against the wall. "NO!" she cried out. "Who knows my name?" Wildly, she turned to fix a smoldering red eye on the little girl who stood defiantly above Mulder and Scully's tangled bodies. "I do!" Daanna shouted, ignoring the wind as it whipped the ebony locks of her hair into her face. Her aura flared orange, like living flame, her blue eyes steady with a wisdom that belied her age. "I am the Guardian. Know me, Lady Malvina of the House of Krandor. You know who I am!" Malvina snarled, bile rising in her throat. "All I see is a child, a child who will die beneath my feet!" She waved her hand and the sphere tilted on its stand, bouncing up, then dashing down towards Daanna's head. The child stood calm and still, raising her hand and pointing imperatively. "Stop." Her high voice sounded with commanding authority, and the sphere froze in mid-air. Malvina screamed with impotent rage, but nothing she could do would move the black ball any closer to the flame-coated child. Daanna smiled softly, then looked down at Mulder and Scully, both staring up at her with astonishment writ large on their ravaged faces. "It is time for you to finish this, Mage. You know what you must do." Mulder shook his head, wincing as the motion caused a sudden stroke of pain behind his eyes. "I...I don't know..." "Yes, you do," came the infinitely patient reply. Daanna's eyes bored into his, her voice echoing in his mind as well as his ears. "You alone have the power and the knowledge to bind her where she cannot do more harm. You cannot kill her, for her power is too strong for that, but you can restrain her from ever doing evil to this Realm again. Use her name to bind her so she cannot again break free." Mulder blinked, then turned towards Scully. His bondmate smiled tenderly though a tangle of auburn curls, and understanding flooded them both. He leaned down to kiss her gently, then stumbled to his feet. Closing his eyes, he reached for the remnants of his power, drawing the blue strands around him like a comforting blanket of warmth. Scully stood up, reaching out to take his hand with hers. Their fingers twined and clung, and together they turned to Malvina. She hissed ferally at them, struggling to attack with what remained of her power, but it slipped out of her control, sparking around her, unfocused and impotent. Mulder's power surged as hers waned, Scully adding her strength to his. A pinpoint of light formed above the ragged Dark Lady's head, growing swiftly, swallowing up the air. She turned to gaze upwards at it, then shrieked in horrified denial. "NO! I will not return there! NO!" Everything within her pulsed into one desperate need to flee, and she leapt upwards towards the frozen black sphere, every last fragment of her power snapping into focus. The vortex widened above her, spinning down towards her as she flung herself away. Her hand touched the sphere and sank within its murky depths, and for a moment, it appeared as though she would escape. But the vortex yawned above her, its maw closing in upon her foot, and for a moment, she hung there, half within the black sphere, half within the expanding vortex. Then the vortex exploded, flaring, sucking on her with an infinitely powerful vacuum, and she was sucked up into it. Her scream echoed in the air, then blinked off as light flared incandescent. The vortex snapped shut and she was gone. End of Chapter 22 THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Twenty-Three The ground gave one more final, dying gasp, shivering as though ill, then came to stillness. They all held their breaths, waiting, expecting it to move again. Hannu was the first to react. Closing his eyes, he reinforced the spell on the roof, then stepped forward, sighing and bowing his head. The spell was broken. Whatever Mulder had done, it must have worked. The taint of the Black Magic hung in the air, hovering, but fading. It would take much time and effort to clear it away fully, but that was the least of the concerns of the moment. Hannu turned to take stock of his companions -- those that still survived. The fiery half-elf, Aldara, was sobbing in her husband's massive arms, and the Blue Mage suddenly remembered that their child had been one of those who had followed Mulder into the dark Gate. His heart skipped a beat in sympathy and sorrow. But no more than a glance around him made it clear that they would not be the only ones grieving this day. Livirnea was already hopping down towards her parents, huddled against the edge of the shattered platform. From the amount of blood staining Norilka of Ranfaus, the prognosis for Mandor was not good. Reinald and Tarnor were both alive, but exhausted to the point of collapse. The gargoyle was sprawled out unconscious, Reinald was resting on his knees beside his protege, the white- haired head bowed and his face haggard and aged. Somehow the little troll, Jhorgab, had managed to survive it all, and he was trying to help the two Mages. He managed to get Reinald sitting up, then turned to meet Hannu's somber, weary gaze. "Is it over?" he asked, yellow eyes wide with shock. Hannu nodded, sweeping a hand through his heavy dark hair. "Yes. I think so..." he paused, lifting his nose to literally sniff the air. "Yes, the Black Mage is gone. For good, I think. Mulder must have defeated her." "Mulder!" Jhorgab got to his feet and stared around him anxiously. "Where did he go? I could not see anything. Beings were running everywhere, and I could not get anywhere. There was all this darkness and fog, and something that smelled like the depths of a swamp, and then suddenly it was gone. Yet, when I got here, only you are here. Where did Mage Mulder, Warrior-Healer Scully, and Lady Shannon go?" He stared around him wide-eyed, then gasped in shock. "And where is His Majesty? By the Gods, I pray he was not killed!" "No..." Hannu denied it, then stopped, hesitancy creeping into his voice and manner. "They all followed Mulder into the Gate. I do not know where they are, for sure, though I can guess...." "Then do so!" A deep voice growled. Hannu spun around to find Jourdain glaring at him, graying eyebrows drawn together over angry blue eyes. "The Black Mage's stronghold, I'd say," Hannu replied bluntly, knowing the man wanted - and deserved - the truth. Jourdain hardly blinked, the only sign of his fear and rage showing in the tightness of his jaw. "They'll be able to get back, won't they?" Jhorgab demanded anxiously, nearly hopping up and down, his ears twitching nervously. Hannu frowned, not answering immediately. He shook his head. "I'm not sure. It appears Mulder defeated our enemy. Or at least stopped her attack on us. However, that effort probably exhausted him. It all depends on his situation, and that I cannot predict." "But you could Gate to him, couldn't you?" Aldara broke in, pushing herself away from Jourdain to gaze hopefully at Hannu. He gazed back sorrowfully. "I cannot create a Gate without having some familiarity with the other location. If Mulder could contact me, I could use him as an anchor..." "Can you contact him?" Jhorgab asked. Hannu thought for a moment, then forced out a wry, but determined smile. "I can but try!" - - - - - Shannon and Andalor peeked out from under their hands. The room had stilled to an almost unearthly quiet. The thunderstorm outside the windows had ceased; rain beat heavily against the velvet- draped windows. The air was thick with the aftermath of the Mage- storm, tasting of smoke and the tinny edge of an iron-forge. The ceilings and walls were singed, the tapestries charred and smoldering. The hematite sphere was quiescent and dull, a long jagged spiderweb of cracks marring its surface. Andalor scrambled to his feet, then put out a hand to help Shannon. She stood up warily, her body still tensed for battle. But nothing stirred to challenge them. No movement, no sound, except the thin whistle of their lungs and the gentle sobs of a terrified child. "Daanna?!" Shannon raced over to kneel behind the little girl. Blue eyes streaming salty tears, Daanna turned and buried herself into the older girl's arms. "Shhh little one," Shannon soothed, hugging her tightly. "What are you doing here? It's going to be all right. It's all over now." She looked up towards Andalor who had walked over to stand beside her. His eyes were focused on the man and woman stretched out before them on the seared marble floor. "Mulder! Scully!" Andalor knelt down beside them, reaching out with trembling hands. Blue sparks flew from their skin when he touched them; he drew his hands back as though shocked. Sharing a grimace with Shannon, he reached out again, sighing with open relief when he found them warm and alive, their chests rising and falling steadily with each breath. "They're alive!" The young king crowed, grinning. Shannon laughed, the sound high-pitched with hysteria, yet gliding with delight. Andalor returned her smile, then tried to shake the Mage and his Companion awake. Mulder shifted, moving to curl his long limbs around Scully's body, but his eyes did not open. Andalor looked up concerned at Shannon, who shook her head. "They're exhausted. I've seen this before." The king nodded, agreeing. "Reinald and Tarnor were like this after the shield spell." He frowned suddenly as he became abruptly aware of their predicament. "They need a healer, and... Good gods, Shannon, where are we?" Her eyes darted around the room, then she clutched the shivering child closer to her. "I don't know, Andy." She stared back down at Mulder and Scully, worry darkening her amber eyes. "And without Mulder I don't know how we're going to get out of here." - - - - - Hannu frowned, then opened his eyes with a soft sigh of frustration. The others were staring at him, a mixture of hope and fear dawning on their faces. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. He's either too far away or he's unable to respond for some reason. I think he's alive, I can feel he's there somewhere, but I can't make clear contact." Hannu rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. "It is possible that he's just too tired to reply. We could wait..." "Wait!" Aldara broke in furiously. "He could be hurt or in trouble. And what of my daughter. She's only a child. If she's been hurt..." Words failed her, sobs rising harshly in her throat. Fiercely she forced them down, gasping for air in lungs that burned. Jourdain held her tightly, his own anguish burning hotly in his belly. "What of Lady Shannon?" Jhorgab asked anxiously. "Can you not reach her?" All eyes turned to him, surprised. His eyebrows climbed nervously up his broad forehead. "Well, Mage Mulder has been teaching her magic. Perhaps she can help." Hannu frowned thoughtfully, then shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth a try." His amber eyes scanned the ruins of the Great Hall, his stomach turning over at the sight of such carnage. People were slowly beginning to dig themselves out, the cries of the wounded rising into the suddenly calm air. The room stank of Black Magic and blood, terror and pain. The Blue Mage shuddered, then closed his eyes, seeking a peaceful place in the center of himself. The image of Mulder's halla swam, then focused in front of his inner vision, and he grabbed hold of it. Long ebony hair framing a clear- skinned oval face. Caramel colored eyes warm and bright, much like his own. He stared into them, calling for her, willing her to answer. //Hey! Who's there!\\ A loud shout burst into his head, nearly throwing him out of his trance. Grasping onto the remnants of his strength, he took hold of the link and tried to steady it. //This is Mage Hannu, Lady Shannon. Please do not shout so loudly. I can hear you easily.\\ In fact, he was stunned by how vivid the link was. He suspected she was at a great distance and yet it felt as though she was in the next room. She had definite promise as a Mage, but her aura had never hinted at such power. But then, she was Mulder's niece. It should not be surprising she would echo his strength. //Mage Hannu! Thank goodness!! What happened? Where are you?\\ she demanded, again startling Hannu with her quickness of thought and reaction. She instantly tuned herself into the link, her mind-voice chiming like a bell, clear and sweet. //I am still at Fairwoods. The attack appears to have ceased. Where are you? Is Mulder with you?\\ //I don't know where we are. Some castle somewhere.\\ A slight shiver echoed down the link. //And a pretty nasty place by the look of it! But yes, Mulder is here, and Scully and Andalor and Daanna. I guess we all fell through at once. But Mulder and Scully are out cold.\\ //Out cold?\\ Hannu questioned, eyes narrowing as he tried to understand. She replied with a visual image of the couple, wrapped up in each other's arms on a scorched, gray stone floor. //They're asleep,\\ she added. Hannu sent her a jolt of understanding. //Yes, I see. What of the Black Mage?\\ //Gone,\\ Shannon's thoughts were colored with delicious triumph. //Mulder and Scully kicked her butt!!\\ //Ahhh,\\ Hannu let that unfamiliar colloquism go by unremarked, the basic idea clear enough. //What about the king and young Daanna? Are they all right?\\ //Yes, yes, they're fine. Andy's not hurt at all. Daanna's scared to death.\\ Confusion colored Shannon's reply. //I think she helped Mulder during the fight.\\ Hannu echoed her confusion, but the worried gazes of the people around him forced him to move on to more pressing concern. He smiled down at Aldara, nodding his head in response to her unspoken question. She sagged into her husband's arms, tears pooling in the corners of her huge emerald eyes. //Lady Shannon, we need to find a way to bring you back here. Do you see any remnant of the Gate that brought you there?\\ He could almost feel her shaking head, the link between them was so vivid. //No, it just snapped off after Andy and I fell through. Besides, Mulder and that witch were throwing around so much power the entire place still reeks of it. Can you make another?\\ Hannu hesitated. //Perhaps, but I am tired and I do not know your surroundings. If Mulder were able to anchor it for me, then it could be done. Without him, I do not know.\\ Shannon's worry rose sharply. //Mulder's in pretty bad shape. I doubt he's going to wake up for quite a while. I think he probably really needs a healer - bad. Is there anyway I can help?\\ //A Gate is a difficult spell even for a trained Mage,\\ Hannu replied. However, his options were limited, and at least he could use her to see the other end. It had been a long time since he had constructed a Gate on his own, without another Mage to assist. But he didn't want to leave them stranded for much longer. If the Black Mage had allies, they could be in real danger. Especially if Mulder and Scully were too drained to protect themselves. Jhorgab was nearly jumping up and down with anxiety. "Is Shannon well? And the others? Can you bring them home..." "Be quiet!" Hannu barked at him. "And be still. They are fine, though Mulder and Scully are unconscious. If I am going to create a Gate without another Mage to help on their end, I will need total concentration. No disturbances. Do you understand?" The little troll shut off in mid-syllable, clamped his jaw shut, and fell to a crouch beside Reinald. He nodded, his eyebrows twitching. "Good," Hannu's eyes swung from one person to another, and they all silently indicated understanding. He drew in a deep breath, then again closed his eyes. //Shannon, I am going to attempt to create a Gate. I need you to act as my eyes on your end. I may be directing some power through you also. You must stay as still as possible and do as I instruct without question. It may hurt a bit, I'm sorry. But you must *not* break the link at any time or it could be disastrous. Do you understand?\\ //Yes,\\ came the terse reply, as tense as though delivered between gritted teeth. Hannu sent her a brief touch of approval, then he slowly began the spell. Power surged up through him, and he deftly anchored the first leg of the Gate. Holding the power firmly under control, he fed it down the link, surging into and through Shannon. His power melded into the budding growth of her own, straining to break free. Hannu gasped aloud with the effort of maintaining control, then nearly staggered to his knees when Shannon suddenly added her mind to his. Her mind closed on the shimmering energy, stabilizing it just enough for him to move it forward. Together, they forced it down into the hard stone, anchoring it, then twisting it upwards. They worked to a single purpose, Shannon working to Hannu's direction, following his lead with stunning ease. She could feel his mind move, sense his thoughts almost before he put them into practice. He could see easily through her eyes to watch the fiery azure power as they wove it into a gleaming arc. Finally, he pulled it back towards him, and grounded it to complete the spell. Once last wrenching twist, and it was finally done. Their link snapped with it, and both fell to their knees, gasping for breath. The centers of the two distant arcs wavered, then solidified into an open gateway between them. "Daanna!!" Aldara cried, and the little girl broke free of Shannon and went running into her mother's arms as fast as her small legs would take her. Aldara swept the child up into her embrace, then turned to let Jourdain gather up his entire family. He squeezed them both in an exultory hug, wrapping massive protective arms around them. Andalor supported Shannon, who staggered in the aftermath of the Gate-making, barely able to find the strength to keep her lungs pumping air. Andalor pulled her to her feet, slipping one hand around her waist. Jhorgab burst the Gate and helped him carry her through and set her down on the edge of a large stone fragment. Hannu walked over to look down at her, and when she finally looked up into his face, he smiled warmly at her. "Well done, young woman. You will make a fine Mage someday. Your taabsut will be very proud of you." Her bleached complexion flushed instantly in response to his praise. He smiled and patted her shoulder briefly, then turned back towards the Gate. Stepping through, he fell gracefully to his knees beside Mulder and Scully. As he had expected, they were completely drained. It had taken every last ounce of strength they had to defeat the Black Mage. Feeling nearly drained himself, he reached out to attempt to pick Mulder up, only to fall back on his heels when a massive hand closed on his shoulder. "You get Scully and I'll carry Mulder," Jourdain instructed gruffly. Hannu nodded gratefully, scrambling out of the way to let the big soldier pick up the tall, slender Mage. Jourdain hefted his friend's body as gently as he would have held his daughter, the muscles bulging in his arms. Silently, he carried Mulder through to relative safety, Hannu following close behind with Scully draped over his arms. They set the bondmates down side-by-side, near the barely conscious Reinald and Tarnor. Once everyone was safely on the Fairwoods side of the Gate, Hannu turned back, issuing a sharp word of command. The Gate shimmered, then burst in a bright flare of light. The others turned to stare at the ancient Mage with surprise, for they'd never seen a Gate closed in such a manner. Hannu responded calmly. "Simply a precaution. I let it loose on the other side. Ought to destroy most of the Black Mage's lair before it subsides. With any luck it will be uninhabitable for quite a while." Jourdain, Aldara and Andalor nodded, Shannon and Jhorgab both grinned appreciatively. Hannu smiled wryly, then let himself slide to a seated position beside Aldara and Daanna. The little girl was still shaking, though her sobbing had stopped. She remained enclosed in her mother's arms, but turned wide blue eyes on the Mage. Hannu was startled by the sudden sharp intelligence he saw gleaming in her expression. Leaning closer to her, he chided gently. "That was foolish, little one. You should not have gone through the Gate. You scared your parents very much." "I had to. I was needed," came the firm reply. Aldara looked stunned, Jourdain came to kneel down beside his family. "What do you mean, Daanna?" Matching eyes met as she turned to gaze serenely up at her father. "I had to tell Mulder the bad lady's name. That was the only way he could make her go away and not hurt anyone again." Hannu jerked, his eyes widening with shock. "You knew her name?" Daanna nodded solemnly, her mane of ebony curls dancing across her slight shoulders. "But how?" Aldara asked, staring at her daughter with a familiar expression of amazement and uncertainty. Daanna shrugged. "I just knew." Jourdain and Aldara's eyes met, Hannu looked thoughtful as he studied the little girl, sensing her aura as it flowed orange and blue around her. It had been a very long time since he'd seen such an aura. The last had died in the battle with the Black Mage, her skills at prophecy not enough to survive betrayal and deceit. Hannu shivered, then forced the terrible memories away. This time, they had won. And the Black Mage could harm them no longer. "You're a very wise young lady," he told Daanna, smiling at her. Turning to look at Jourdain, he smiled wistfully. "You're lucky to have such a gifted daughter. I've always wished to have a child of my own." Daanna frowned suddenly, her red lips forming prettily into a pout. Her high-pitched voice was thick with frustration. "But you do." Hannu reared back, utterly stunned. The others gazed at them, equally surprised. "What do you mean?" the Mage questioned. "I don't..." The little girl sighed, shaking her head as though he were behaving very stupidly. Lifting a small arm, she pointed straight at Shannon. "Of course you do. She's your daughter." Hannu gazed in shock over at Shannon. The king was helping the shaky girl to sit up. She shook her head as if she were trying to clear it. "Daanna, honey. That simply isn't possible." "Come, Daanna, let us get you home. We'll have Lita make you something special for your supper," Aldara crooned. "You've had a long, scary day, and you're overtired." The child opened her mouth to protest, but nothing emerged save an enormous yawn. "Am not," she insisted, rubbing her eyes with a grubby fist. "I'll send the guard for Mulder and Scully and the other Mages. They'll bring them back to their chambers if the castle is safe," Jourdain said. Hannu nodded. Then the immense Captain of the Royal Guard reached down and swung his daughter up onto his shoulders. "Come along, kitten. I'll give you a ride." The family, exhausted in mind and body, started back to a home they weren't even sure was still there. Over her shoulder, Daanna piped out, "I'm right. You'll see!" Hannu walked slowly over to sit next to Shannon, Andalor's arm protectively around her shoulders. The awkward silence stretched out between them all. Finally, the Mage cleared his throat. "Interesting...what the child said. Impossible, of course, but interesting." Shannon didn't reply for some time. Then, grasping Andalor's hand, she demanded unsteadily, "Where did it come from? The Mage-power I used for the Gate - where did it come from? I mean, I knew I had a little ability, but...nothing like that. I have to know! Did it come from me or from you?" She finally dragged her frightened, mystified eyes up to meet his gaze. "Well, a lot of it came from me, the control did, certainly. But you generated considerable power on your own. But why so disturbed, child? Mulder is your uncle, you obviously inherited his talents." She shook her head vehemently and said in a voice close to panic, "But that's just it! You don't understand! Mulder's not my real uncle!" The Mage looked at her in shock. "But...! Well, maybe you got your power from another close relation." Now she laughed, not far from hysteria. "I really don't think so. We're not real big on Mages where I come from. Look, I don't know what Mulder and Scully have told you, but we're not from here. Nowhere even close. Hannu, we come from a totally different world. We don't have powers like this where I come from. I couldn't have been born with it. Who ever heard of a Mage in Cambridge, anyway?" Hannu's face bleached whiter than Shannon's dress. "Y- you come from the village of Cambridge? In the land of Massachusetts?" "Y-yes!" she gasped. "But how did you...? How would...?" A squad of guards approached, carrying litters. A stunned Hannu and the king helped them roll the recumbent forms of the exhausted Mages and the Mage Companion onto the stretchers. Then the guards bore their precious burdens off in the direction of the castle. The men seated themselves again on either side of the dazed girl. Gently, Hannu picked up one of her hands and placed it in his own. "I have a story to tell you. It is my story. I have never told the whole thing to anyone, partly because of the pain it causes me, and I suppose partly because I did not want anyone to think I was a lunatic." His face twisted into a wry grin. "Don't say anything until I've finished, all right?" Still in shock, she gave a ghost of a nod. "Good. Now as you know, when I battled the Dark Queen, forces were unleashed that threw me into a different time and place. When I came to my senses, it was night - very cold - and there was snow on the ground. I was barely conscious, but I remember...looking up...and seeing only one moon. And being terrified. I somehow got to my feet and staggered into a great building with walls of glass and bright lights pouring out. "I was frightened, but it was warm inside, and I was freezing. I could hear voices, human voices, but speaking in a tongue that was foreign to me. There were many doors and I went from one to another until I found one that would open to me, and went in. It was warm and dark and quiet, which is all I wanted or needed at the time. I curled up under a long table, and slept, I know not for how long. "When I awoke - or I should say, was awakened - it was still dark. Or maybe it had again grown dark. What awakened me was a human female who had touched the wall and filled the room with light. Not wishing to be discovered, I looked out from under the table, meaning to leave as soon as her back was turned. But she saw me." He laughed shortly. "I don't know which of us was more frightened. I tried to explain who I was and where I was from, but she couldn't understand me, nor I her. We heard voices echoing in the corridor outside. Suddenly, I felt faint, and leaned heavily on the table for support. At that moment, her expression changed, and she seemed to arrive at a decision. She took me by the arm and led me down the hallway. She took a key from her pocket and unlocked one door and then another, locking it behind us. Then she led me into a strange room, filled with metal boxes and tables. She tried to tell me something and then she left." "Well, I assumed I was her prisoner, and knew not what fate awaited me. But some time later she returned, bringing food and ale and blankets and fresh clothing. She smiled - a beautiful smile. She indicated that her name was Karen" - a muffled sob came from Shannon, quickly hushed - "and I managed to tell her my name. Then she left. "When it again grew dark, she came back, and took me from the room to the outside. We got into a strange horseless cart and moved along a firm trail with a lot of other carts. The wonders I saw that night! And the noise of it all! Finally we reached her dwelling. "In the time that followed, I learned much about my new world, its wonders and its horrors. Karen taught me her language, enough to get by, anyway. When I had learned enough of the world not to be danger to myself, we began to go out, taking long walks while she would answer my questions and tell me more about my new surroundings. Karen told everyone I was a refugee from a land called Eastern Europe, and that seemed to be accepted without question by most of the people we met. "So I studied, and learned. I had long since discovered that the powers I took for granted in the Realm were lost to me in this strange world. But I gained something that had always been denied me. "By the time the trees had blossomed and the fruit was ripe on their limbs, we had fallen in love." Hannu seemed a bit hesitant, uncomfortable. "If Karen thought my awkwardness unusual, she gave no sign. As with everything, she was a patient and loving teacher. I was...I was overwhelmed with the emotions, emotions I had never felt before. But everything was perfect, and I felt I had a home at last. "Then one day she called me on that strange instrument you call a telephone. She seemed happy and asked me to meet her at her office at the end of her work time. She had given me a key, and she said no one would be near the room that day. So I went to meet her." Hannu paused, his eyes filling with tears. "I was in the inner chamber - the one Karen called the laboratory. I had locked the door behind me and was looking at all the strange instruments. Suddenly, there was a high-pitched whining roar coming from the far corner, and the very air shimmered and then swirled. I felt myself being sucked into the air. I cried out, desperately grabbing at the tables to keep myself from being drawn into that - thing. But I wasn't strong enough. My hands slipped and I was pulled down into a void. The last thing I heard was Karen's scream." All three were weeping openly now. "I found myself in the Realm. The rest you know." The girl threw herself into his arms and they clung together for dear life. Finally, as if the words were being ripped from his very heart, he asked in a whisper. "Just tell me this, child. Did she hate me for leaving?" Shannon drew back. Gently, she wiped the tears from his cheeks and even managed a smile. "Oh no. She didn't speak of you often - I think it was too painful for her - but when she did, she smiled, and her face looked, I don't know, softer, like she was in love all over again. She never stopped loving you." "And I never stopped loving her." They held each other close, trying to come to terms with what they had lost, and what they had gained. Finally he stood and reached a hand down to help her up. "You are very like me, you know - your hair, your eyes...and your Mage-gifts. I don't know why I didn't see it before." She smiled up at him. "And I don't know why I didn't recognize you. Back in my room, there's a photograph. I think you'll want to see it. It was my mother's favorite picture, one of you and her. But you look so much younger in the picture - your hair was completely black, and you didn't have that long beard and mustache." He chuckled wryly. "I WAS younger in that picture. I had forgotten about that photograph. I can still remember the day it was taken. I'd like to see it very much." Arm in arm they walked to the castle, a contemplative Andalor still grasping her other hand. - - - - - Sirisa took a deep breath as she left Mandor's mind and body, then turned to Livirnea and Norilka, hovering anxiously nearby. "He is gravely injured and has lost a great deal of blood. I have stopped the bleeding and begun the healing process." "Then he will live?" Livirnea asked hopefully, her wide gray eyes filled with tears. "I cannot say. Perhaps, if he has healers day and night. Much damage has been done to his life organs. I am particularly worried about his spine. If he is to live and to walk again, he must have nearly continuous healing treatments for quite some time." "Well, then, do it!" commanded Norilka. She had washed and changed since the violent earthquake, stripping off the bloodstained garments with revulsion. "I fear I cannot," Sirisa said with dignity. "With Corvay dead and Kyla still unwell I am the only healer in Fairwoods. Scores of beings have been injured and cling precariously to life, and I must tend them all. As a healer, I cannot and will not abandon them and attend only one, no matter how worthy he may be. I'm sorry." "Sorry? You haven't begun to be sorry yet! Do you know who my husband is, what position he holds? How dare you? With Marvick and Horvay dead, with this betrothal, our house has the opportunity to be pre-eminent among all the houses! I demand you devote yourself full time to my husband's care!" "Mother - " began Livirnea, embarrassed. "Quiet, girl!" On the pallet on the floor of the small ballroom, Mandor stirred. Instantly, Livirnea was on her knees by his side. "Father! Father, do you need anything? Are you in pain?" "Nay, daughter, the healer has eased my pain. My thanks to you, Healer Sirisa. I heard you. What would you suggest I do?" She thought for a moment. "Do you have a healer at your estate?" To save her father the effort of speaking, Livirnea broke in. "Yes - two, actually. We have a healer and an apprentice who is nearing the end of his training." She nodded briskly. "Then there is no question. My recommendation is to put you in stasis so you may travel back to your home in safety and in comfort. I will send full instructions. Once there, you will have two healers to tend to your injuries. They will be able to provide much more healing than I can right now." "Send him away from Fairwoods? Are you a lunatic, woman?" Norilka spat out, her arms gesticulating wildly. "He must be here. It is critical for him to be here, to grasp the opportu-" "Norilka - enough! Healer Sirisa, how soon can you put me in stasis?" "I have other injured to check on, but I can return in a candlemark to begin the stasis chant." "Be it so, then. Thank you." Mandor's eyelids fluttered closed. The healer bowed, glared at Norilka, and left the room. The noblewoman turned furiously on Livirnea. "Go to the king! Make him command that bitch to take care of your father! What kind of a daughter are you? You will be queen. You have power now - use it!" "Mother, I don't think-" "Do it, girl! What queen would let her father die, just so that some troll, or elf kitchenmaid, may live? Move!" "Stay!" The strength of Mandor's command belied his grave condition. "Norilka, I will hear no more about it. I have made my decision." "But Mandor, the other Heads of Houses were killed in the Mage-attack! You can make House Ranfaus the most powerful Noble House there has ever been. Don't squander -" "Quiet, woman! Sit - over there - and not another word. I would speak to my daughter before the healer returns." With bad grace, Norilka flounced across the room to the indicated chair and sat, glowering. He reached up to his daughter. "Livirnea, my dearest one. I want you to tell me the truth. Do you wish this betrothal to the king?" "I..." The girl's head spun. She wanted so badly to tell her father the truth, to tell him she wanted no part of the betrothal, but in his condition.... "Never mind, my dear. Your face speaks for you." Mandor shook his head slightly. "I have seen you and the king together, and it is a pretty couple that you make. But your duties are so firmly writ upon you.... There is no joy in this pairing, for either of you, is there?" "No, father, there is not," she said firmly and clearly. "Livirnea! What are you saying?" Norilka howled. "Are you trying to kill your father?" "Silence!" Dropping his voice so that only his daughter could hear, he sighed and murmured, "This is what comes of arranged marriages. She is pretty, your mother, but also a scold and over-ambitious. Livirnea, I wish for you the happiness I have not had. You must follow your own path. What way would you go, pet?" "I wish to continue to study with the Professor. Father, I want to be useful, to discover new wonders, to learn to be a scientist like the Professor. This would bring me happiness." "And what of marriage, my dear?" Her lashes fluttered shyly. "Someday, father. To a man I love. Andalor is in love with Shannon, and he has been very good to me. No matter what happens, I do not want to be the one that tears them from each other." He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Ah, well, we will see what we can do about that. But in any event, my daughter will have the happiness she seeks. Norilka, come here." "What have you been saying, you ungrateful wench?" she hissed at her daughter. "Bring me my writing things, child. Norilka, I am overturning the betrothal." "WHAT? You are mad, you are out of your mind with pain, with...with weakness. Don't be an idiot, Mandor! Livirnea, what have you done?" "One more word, Norilka, and I will banish you to my lands near the Uriin Plains where your fine clothes and sparkling jewels will be useless." She paled and choked out, "You wouldn't dare!" "Oh, but I would. Livirnea, dear, hold the parchment - yes, just like that." Weakly and with a tremendous effort, he brushed some words onto the parchment. "Now, go call Raviar." Obediently, Livirnea left the room and soon returned with Mandor's second in command. When they entered the chamber, Norilka sat, her cheeks flaming with anger, but silent and chastened. The girl could only guess at what her father must have said in her absence. "Lord Mandor, I bring the good wishes of the battalion. Many prayers to the Goddess for your speedy return to health are being said even as we speak." The tall, handsome officer gazed down on the Head of the House with sympathy. "Send them my thanks, Raviar. I can use all of them. Soon the healer will place me in stasis. Ready a squad to accompany me home. But first, you must deliver this document to the Council. I know all is in chaos, but be sure that the most senior members see this document and acknowledge it." "Understood, my lord." Mandor nodded tiredly. "Then take it to Reinald and the king. After it has been acted upon, it is my wish that you remain here with the balance of your troops, and assist the king as he directs. I'm counting on you, Raviar." "It will be my sacred duty, my lord. May the Goddess go with you." With tears brimming in his dark eyes, he saluted his fallen commander. Ignoring Norilka's presence, he bowed deep before the pretty young girl. "Lady Livirnea." Then he went to do his commander's bidding. Appraisingly, Mandor watched him take his leave. "He's a good man. He will serve the king well in my absence." There was a soft knock at the door, and the healer glided in. "If you are ready, Lord Mandor...." "Yes. Livirnea, come here, child." The girl, tears running down her cheeks, knelt at her father's side. "Stay with me, sweet child, while the healer does her work. Now, I want you to stay here when I leave." Seeing her about to protest, he said, "No. There will be more than enough beings to care for me back at the estate. Your mother knows my wishes and she will comply." He looked pointedly at Norilka, who nodded sullenly. "Will you do that for me?" "Anything, Papa," she wept. "Dry your tears, daughter. I promise you, I will be back. Make me proud of you. Now, hold your Papa's hand while I sleep, eh?" The healer smiled encouragingly, and stepped forward to begin her chant. - - - - - The sun shone brilliantly through the tall, narrow windows of Reinald's chamber, casting pools of light upon the stone floor. Having slept since their collapse, Mulder and Scully felt refreshed but still shaky after their labors of the day before. They sat with the Mages and Professor Neumann at the large table, pale but in high spirits. Reinald and Tarnor, too, grew stronger by the candlemark, and helped themselves generously from the platters of sweet fruits and breads that were circulated around the table. The Professor sat close to his friends, absentmindedly munching on his breakfast, but probably unable to identify what he was eating, if asked. His mind was at work on the structural plans for rebuilding the Great Hall. Jhorgab, Aldara and Jourdain were not able to be with them, touring other areas of Fairwoods damaged by the Mage-attack and trying to assess the cost of repairs. "...and that was that," Mulder was saying. "With first, the use of the Lost Powers, thanks to the crash course Hannu gave me the night before last, and then Daanna's contribution, which stunned the Black Mage, and then Scully's to top it all off, I was able to send her packing through the vortex. Goodness knows where she may have ended up." "If I have a vote, I cast it in favor of the dimension with the Dark Creatures," Scully grinned. "They deserve each other." There was laughter around the table. "So the prophecy was true," mused Reinald. "The Lost Powers were the first arrow, and Daanna the second, the Guardian - she actually announced that she was the Guardian?" At Mulder's nod, the old Mage shook his head. "Amazing. That child is going to be formidable someday. I wish I knew what to make of her; perhaps our friend Hannu can help. And then Scully was the third blue arrow?" "I had an idea, when I started thinking about the passage that read 'at one with the blue-cloaked archer'," admitted Mulder. "It seemed to correlate with Scully's and my relationship as Mage and Mage Companion. I just didn't know if I was reading more into the prophecy than was meant..." The party stood as Pitir opened the door for Andalor, Shannon and Hannu. The girl self-consciously broke her grasp of Andalor's hand as they entered, intending to sit near Mulder, but the king held on. She looked up at him, for once unsure of herself. Then the deep violet eyes smiled at her and she went willingly with him to the table, her heart thudding as she took the seat that he held out for her. Then he defiantly seated himself beside her. A small frown passed over Reinald's face as everyone seated themselves. Hannu sat across from Andalor, a silent conversation taking place between them. The girl looked from one to the other, puzzled. Last evening they had all gone to her chamber, and she had pulled out all the photographs she had retrieved from her mother's home. For candlemarks they had sprawled on the rug, Hannu consuming the pictures with hungry eyes and Andalor no less interested, as Shannon told the story that went along with each one. The twin moons were high in the night sky when the king and Hannu had left together. This morning, when she answered the knock on her door, the two were together again, and she had the distinct feeling that they were up to something. An uneasy sensation gripped the assemblage that had nothing to do with the conversation, as Mulder and Scully were brought up to date on the damage and deaths wrought by the previous day's Mage-attack. Mulder had not missed Reinald's frown at seeing Andalor and Shannon together again. Scully wriggled in her seat, with a feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. It was not long in coming. "Reinald, I must talk with you," Andalor said determinedly. "It can be either before our friends or in private, but we must speak." "I think I can guess what this is about," the Mage replied gravely. "Andalor, there is nothing to be done. The betrothal has been, of necessity, postponed. When Mandor is again well enough, the ceremony will be rescheduled." "But Shannon saved my life! The Black Mage would have killed me if it weren't for her." "And Shannon shall have my undying and most heartfelt gratitude. As do Mulder and Scully and everyone else who saved you and all of us from the Black Mage. Unfortunately, where royal traditions are concerned, it changes nothing." "But Livirnea doesn't want it. I don't want it." "The Lady Livirnea has not made her feelings known, and even if she did, it still changes nothing. Her parents approve and the Council approves. You would certainly not be the first royal couple who were less than ecstatic about their betrothal. It's bigger than two people. It's the whole Realm and our traditions, passed down from time immemorial." Softening, the Mage said gently, "I would give anything to see you happy, Andalor, but this is beyond my power." The others sat around the table, embarrassed at the unfolding scene, feeling sympathy for the young king and also for the old Mage, both forced into a predicament not of their making. It was with relief, then, that a knock sounded on the door and Pitir hurried to answer it. He swung the door open, admitting an exhausted Raviar. "My apologies, Your Majesty, Royal Mage," he said, striding to the table. "I would have been here much sooner but my errand caused somewhat of an uproar among the surviving members of the Council." "Please, sit, Raviar," the king said. "Pitir, some tea for the Captain. Now, what news have you of Lord Mandor?" "He departed last night, Sire. He was placed in stasis to return home where his own healers may give him all the treatments he requires." Reinald nodded, his abundant beard bobbing on his chest. "An excellent decision. Healer Sirisa is overtaxed with the injured as it is. Our prayers go with him." "Thank you, Royal Mage. I am sure he appreciates it. Now, prior to his departure, he charged me with carrying this document to the Council members and seeing that they acted upon it. But the Council is in chaos, and the errand took me far longer than expected. I have only this morning seen the last of the senior Council members. Between the disorder and the purpose of my errand, it has been a long, trying night." "And what is the purpose of your errand?" inquired the king. Raviar appeared uncomfortable, and passed the parchment to Andalor. "Apparently, Your Majesty, it is Lord Mandor's wish to dissolve the betrothal agreement." "What? But this is unprecedented!" Reinald cried. The captain smiled wryly. "So the Council members have given me to believe. As I said, my errand has caused quite a stir." Then he sobered and turned his gaze to the king. "I'm sorry, Sire. I realize this is quite a blow for you." Andalor lowered the document which had been obscuring his face, to reveal an expression of purest joy. "Good for Livirnea! I don't know how she managed it, but she did it!" He passed the parchment to Reinald. "S-sire?" Of all the reactions his news might have brought, Raviar was not expecting unbridled joy. What in the name of the Goddess was wrong with the king? Why, Lady Livirnea was lovely, and pure, and sweet.... Anyone would be proud to have her for his wife. As if reading his mind, Andalor hastened to explain. "Oh, make no mistake, Captain Raviar, I have nothing but the highest esteem and best wishes for the Lady Livirnea. I count myself fortunate to have her for a friend, and shall continue to do so. It is just that I knew the lady had no desire for this betrothal. I think enough of her to wish her to be happy." "Yes, Your Majesty. Quite right." Raviar stood. "My errand is completed, then. I must get some sleep, Sire, but I shall await your orders for my battalion. I am sure you can use the assistance somewhere." "I appreciate yours and Lord Mandor's kindness in this difficult time. It will not be forgotten, Captain. Sleep well. Captain Jourdain will see that you receive your orders by sundown." "Thank you, Sire. Good day." With that, the tired and confused nobleman quit the chamber to seek his bed. Triumph blazed in Andalor's eyes. "That's it, Reinald. It's finished. The betrothal agreement is dissolved." "There will be some formalities to be observed...the full Council will have to meet," murmured Reinald, dazed by the sudden turn of events. What could have happened? What was going to happen now? There was no precedent, no tradition, no ritual to cling to. Andalor pressed forward his advantage. "I want your guarantee, Reinald, that I will be allowed to choose my queen. Freely, with no limitations." The flowing white locks shook. "Andalor, it is not our way, we have traditions -" "If I may observe, Mage Reinald, it appears that Lord Mandor's dissolution of the betrothal agreement has already broken new ground," Hannu commented calmly. The king flashed him a look of gratitude. Reinald sighed. "But the Council must... All right, Andalor, and if I could agree to this request, whom would you choose?" "I want Shannon to be my queen. If she'll have me." The king's eyes never left the old Mage's face, but he heard the gasp of the girl beside him. "You know that's impossible. Shannon, dear, you know we all love you and you would make a wonderful queen. Personally, I have no objection. But the Council will never pass it." Shannon studied her empty plate, her cheeks burning. Mulder wished he could communicate with her like he could Scully, anything to comfort her, to ease her embarrassment. "Why would they not approve? How do we know unless we try?" Andalor argued. "There is precedent for marrying outside the nobility - not often, but it has happened." "That is only one problem. Have you already forgotten the scrutiny that the betrothed must endure? The investigation into her family lines? All of us here know Shannon is not of the Realm, but no one else does." Reinald's eyes widened and he cast an anxious glance toward Hannu. "I have become aware of that fact, Mage," Hannu replied evenly. "I will keep the confidence." Reinald nodded curtly. "When Shannon came to the Realm, it was necessary to protect her status. As an orphan with no family, you know the difficult road she would have faced. She is physically enough like Mulder and bears a trace of Mage-blue in her aura. So it was decided to cast Mulder in the role of her uncle, her taabsut." "And it's been a pleasure," declared Mulder. Shannon's eyes crept up from her plate to regard him warmly. "So you feel that would be the Council's main objection - that she is an orphan with no family, that she has no real connection to the Realm," pressed the king. "That would certainly be the biggest obstacle to the Council, yes." Andalor went in for the kill. "And what if she did have family? Not only family, but was connected by blood to one of the Realm's most famous sons?" All sound stopped in the chamber. Stunned, Reinald stammered, "B-but she doesn't. Sh-she isn't. Andalor, you aren't suggesting that we concoct a huge fabrication for the Council? Because I can tell you, they will definitely find out and -" "I am Shannon's father," Hannu quietly announced. If all sound ceased with Andalor's announcement, all time stopped with Hannu's. Scully felt the words hit Mulder's consciousness with a dull thud. Felt the brutal contraction of his heart. Sensed the exquisite pain of impending loss, a loss he knew - damn him - that was fated to happen, just as he had lost so many others in his life. No, it couldn't happen again. She wouldn't let it. "Wait a minute!" Scully demanded. "How can you think we'll just accept this on your word? I mean, this is incredible! What proof do you have?" "Scully, I felt the same way," Shannon said softly. "Believe me, this is my father. He knows everything - about Cambridge, and things about my home and my mother that no one else could have known." "But how is this possible?" cried the Professor. "I knew Karen well, I worked closely with her, was with her all during her pregnancy. Shannon is beyond question Karen's daughter. How...?" "The other world that I was cast into so long ago was your world." Hannu, his mind full of bittersweet memories, looked intently at the old Professor for the first time. "Are you...could you possibly be...Professor Neumann? Karen spoke of you, often. I did not know until this moment..." Now Scully's heart sank as Mulder's had done. So it was true. That explained the odd sense of famliarity she'd felt towards Hannu from the beginning, as though she had seen him somewhere before. The picture Shannon had of her parents...now Scully could recognize the man as a much younger, beardless Hannu. Turning instinctively to Mulder, she felt his effort to repress the almost overwhelming pain, and to feel joy for the girl he'd come to love. Oh no, Scully thought. Not again. Not another dark, pretty child who wins his heart, only to disappear from his life. Then she was in his mind with him fully, comforting, supporting, soothing, trying to ease his pain by sharing it. "Actually, we all knew Karen," said Tarnor. "All too briefly, for most of us, but we knew her. Everyone here, and Jourdain and Aldara, as well." "Sweet Goddess!" The Mage drew a shaky breath. "Do you mean you have all been to the other world?" There were solemn nods from everyone seated at the table. "Good, sweet Goddess. It appears there is much I do not know." "This is true, then, Mage Hannu?" Reinald asked seriously. "By my oath to the Goddess, it is. There is still much unknown between us, but Shannon is without doubt my daughter." "Now, Reinald. Will you go to the Council in support of my choice?" Andalor waited tensely. The old Mage was silent for a long moment. Then, his face creasing into a tender smile, he said, "I have not yet heard the lady's answer to your proposal." The king turned to Shannon, taking her hands in his. With touching gravity, he asked, "Lady Shannon, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and my queen?" The girl stared into the deep violet eyes, lost in their longing and their love. When she could trust her voice to speak, she answered. "The honor is mine, Your Majesty." End of Chapter Twenty Three THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 24 The dawns were sweeter since the defeat of the Black Mage. It was as though a haze had lifted from the Realm. The sun shone brighter, flowers bloomed more richly, the air was cleaner. Everyone stepped lighter, even those in mourning, as though an invisible weight had been lifted from their shoulders. Still, the Council was stunned. Two of the house-holders were dead and a third was bed-ridden, possibly for the rest of his life. The Great Hall was in ruins, and while repairs were underway, the scars would remain for many season-cycles to come. Prince Mavor had ridden in days after the cataclysm, shocked by what he found. He was quick to come to Andalor's aid, and soon served as a source of great wisdom and strength. The Elven leader and Mage Hannu became instant friends, spending long hours discussing the history of the Realm. Mavor also became a firm ally in Andalor's battle to get Council approval for his marriage to Shannon, which surprisingly had been less of a battle than expected. Marvick of Dordinal and Horvay of Maalfes were dead, leaving their houses embroiled in internal turmoil as their children struggled for ascendancy. Too occupied with their own grief and problems, they gave little opposition to the king's wishes. For her part, Livirnea displayed a remarkable power of will. Even her brother, Tallor, when he arrived, was unable to sway her mind. She had decided to apprentice herself to the Professor, and insisted that Andalor should marry Shannon as he wished. Tallor argued perfunctorily with his beloved little sister, then threw up his hands and bowed to her demands. And once Ranfaus had given its acceptance, the other Council members followed without complaint. Finally, the day of the new betrothal ceremony arrived, a new queen-to-be taking her place beside the young king. This ceremony took place on the edge of the forest, green grass thick beneath their feet. The sky was a clear azure, nary a cloud marring the spectacle. Shannon was radiant in her white gown, her head crowned with the simplest of lace veils, iridescent white pearls woven within the gleaming wealth of raven hair. Andalor stood proudly beside her, unable to keep himself from smiling, despite the fierce glare from the new priestess. Andalor was unrepentant, as was Shannon, both finding it difficult to stand still through yet another long recitation of his family's grand history. Once the requisite chanting was done, the priestess guided them through a blessedly short period of question and answer. They swore allegiance and loyalty, truth and acceptance of responsibility, first to each other, and then to the Realm itself. Reinald witnessed for Andalor, Mavor for the Realm, and Hannu for Shannon. That made Mulder twist uncomfortably in place, a harsh taste burning his throat as he swallowed. Scully soothed him with a wave of love and understanding, and he settled quietly in place as each of the house and species representatives stepped forward to pay respects to their king's bride-to-be. The eldest sons of Dordinal and Ranfaus served for the fathers; for Maalfees, it was the daughter who took her sire's place. At last it came to an end, the priestess binding Andalor and Shannon's wrists together symbolically with a silken white ribbon. They'd have to remain so bound for the remainder of the day, removing the cord only when the sun set that night. Shannon smiled warmly at her fiancee as the priestess led the procession through the make-shift center aisle towards the courtyard where the rather subdued, but always efficient Ballorca had set out the surviving refreshments from the previous, aborted ceremony. Andalor's stomach flipped at the gleam in her amber eyes, his fair skin flushing with warmth. While he was not unfamiliar with relations between men and women, he wasn't particularly experienced either, and if Shannon was true to form, his life was going to be...interesting. He swallowed hard, then grinned boyishly. He might just have a few surprises for his bride-to-be as well. He caught her eye, and they shared a look of triumph and delight. Mulder watched the young couple with gleaming eyes, Scully at his side. His heart felt like it would burst with pride and love for Shannon, and yet he couldn't help feeling a bittersweet sadness as well. He was losing her, so quickly, so soon after finding her. It seemed as though everyone he loved left him. Memories surged, the joy of believing he might have found Samantha only to see her snatched away again, the pain compounded by the sick sense of betrayal when he discovered that woman had never really been his sister at all. This wasn't the same - he knew that - but knowing and feeling can be very different things. He'd spent so much of his life keeping people at a distance, and now that he'd allowed some people in, the long familiar fear was reasserting itself with a vengeance. He was losing Shannon, just as he'd lost Samantha, and his father, and... Scully closed her hand on his, silent, squeezing his fingers between her own. A simple, customary gesture of comfort between them, it sent a tingle up the length of his arm. Without words or even mind-speak, he instinctively understood what she was saying. And the tender spirit of her love warmed him, easing the tenseness of his body and mind. He threaded his fingers through hers, leaning down to brush the coppery crown of her head with his lips. She leaned against him for an instant, then stepped forward to claim their place in line. Aldara and Jourdain stepped in behind them, carrying little Daanna, then Tarnor and Jhorgab next, and together, they walked into the festive courtyard. The party went on for hours, food consumed at a remarkable rate, the heaviness of it worn off in the elaborate, foot- stomping dances. Some were so stylized that most stepped aside to watch the experts perform, others were simple affairs, circles and lines weaving through each other in a flurry of silken color. Mulder preferred to stand and watch, his arm curled around Scully's shoulder, but neither she nor the others would allow him to remain still for long. He grumbled and laughed, always moving with pantherish grace. Scully gleamed like a fire spirit, floating through the crowds, her hair ablaze with the sunlight. Aldara was quick to join her friend, Jourdain following reluctantly behind. Jhorgab preferred to stand aside and watch, happy with a fist full of sweets. Andalor and Shannon were like a pair of children at a grown-up party, whispering and giggling, but always stately when they joined the dance. - - - - - Frowning, Mulder put down the untasted cup of elven punch pressed on him by a reveler. He knew that alcohol was to all intents and purposes off-limits to Mages and it would hardly improve his bittersweet mood. He looked around the courtyard. Already torches were being brought out as the twilight threatened to steal across the sky, chasing the fleeing sun. Children of all species ran between the dancers or frolicked on the periphery, pretending to be mighty warriors or powerful Mages, battling imaginary demons. In the pretty party dress and pinafore that Scully had given her, Daanna clutched her like-dressed doll and scampered with the others. Shannon, still literally bound to Andalor, carried herself with stunning grace and bearing. What a beautiful queen she will be, he thought. He let his eyes drift over the dancers. Jourdain gavotted with Aldara, and Scully dipped and swirled with the diminutive Prince Mavor, all losing themselves in the sprightly and infectious music. At the edge of the impromptu dance floor, Hannu, Gunther and Livirnea, heads together so they could hear, were deep in conversation. Reinald circulated through the crowd, proud, smiling. Near the dais, Tarnor and the priestess chatted, waiting for the approaching final ceremony of the day in which the silken bond would be severed, but the emotional tie remain. He looked over the selection of treats on the food table, but none tempted his appetite. He found himself drifting toward the darkness beyond the torches. //Mulder? Are you all right?\\ He sighed. She always knew. //Yeah. I just feel like a walk. I'm...well....\\ //Mulder, I'm sure she...\\ //I know. I just need some time alone.\\ //Okay. You know where I'll be...\\ ...in case you need me. She didn't have to say it, he could feel her concern. He mentally nodded and set off at a slow pace for the far side of the meadow, scanning the skies for the earliest traces of starlight. He knew Shannon cared for him. But now she had a fiancee - and a father. And she would be staying in the Realm when he and Scully departed. For a while it had looked as if she might go with them. Often in the moments before sleep, he had reviewed the relative merits of the schools she could go to, considered living arrangements. Those dreams were wasted now; she would be staying in the Realm. Not as traumatic a separation, certainly, as with Sam. But a separation nonetheless. How like Sam she was - or the Sam he imagined as a teenager. Ever since the abduction, he had made a practice, almost a ritual, of trying to picture her growing older as he did, going through the awkward early teens to blossom into a lovely young woman, as Shannon had, almost before his eyes. He had imagined the talks he would have had with her, her asking his advice about boyfriends, his being there for her when her heart was broken by some thoughtless kid. Samantha.... Light footsteps had scarcely intruded into his consciousness when an arm slid around his and held tight. Startled, he looked down to see Shannon, glowing with happiness in her white dress. "What are you doing here? I thought you were all tied up," he teased. "Nope. Just got snipped." She held up a slim, strong wrist, slightly reddened from the bindings. "Won't they be missing you from the party?" He folded her arm in the crook of his as they strolled together. "Nah. Everyone's pretty partied out, anyway." They walked in silence to the edge of the moonlit meadow to where the trees of the forest stood darker against the sky. Stopping, Mulder unfastened his cloak and spread it on the ground with a flourish. Then he bowed low. "M'lady." Smiling, Shannon curtseyed gracefully, then dropped artlessly onto the thick, warm folds like the tired teenager she was. "Oh! That feels great! I don't think I've sat down once all day." Mulder sat down on the cloak and pulled her feet into his lap. Removing her soft satin slippers, he began expertly to massage her feet. "Oh, Goddess! That's heaven, Mulder. I think I'm more used to leather boots than dancing slippers. My feet have been killing me ever since the ceremony. Where did you learn to do this?" "I get lots of practice. Back in our world, Scully's feet suffer from all those prolonged chases of fleeing felons in high heels." He laughed. "I meant Scully in high heels, not the felons." She chuckled. "Yeah, I figured that out." She relaxed to the massage, stretching out and leaning back on her elbows, bathing in the light of twin full moons. When he had finished, he replaced her slippers against the night chill. "Happy?" "Mulder, I am so happy, I'm scared. I've never been this happy in my whole life. I love Andalor so much. I just...I just wish my mother could have seen all this." She gave a sad laugh and her tone became wistful. "I don't know if she would have believed it or not, but I would give anything if she could have seen this place, met all my friends. If she could see me now. I feel like I've changed so much, like she could be proud of me now." "She was always proud of you, Shannon. And now, except for your mother, you have everything." He stared down at his folded hands. "A fiancee, a kingdom full of worshipping subjects...a father." "I know. Hannu is amazing. And it's wonderful having someone who knew my mother so well. When he tells stories of their time together, it's almost like she comes alive again for a little while." A long silence stretched out between them, punctuated only by the scurrying and calls of wild things in the forest. Finally Shannon spoke. "But Mulder...Hannu didn't save my life and Andalor's." Her voice was soft and her eyes were alive with her emotions. "Hannu wasn't the one who did everything humanly possible to save my mother's life. He wasn't there for me when she died, saying all the right things. He wasn't the one who gambled on a spoiled, delinquent brat, taking a chance and bringing me here when the only other place I could go was a foster home. Exposing me to all of this" - her hand swept the horizon - "and giving me the keys to a kingdom. He wasn't the one who was always there when I needed to talk, or to cry on someone's shoulder. He wasn't the one to set me straight when I needed it. Who gave me a life and a purpose...and a family. Hannu wasn't the one who set the example for strength and goodness. He didn't show me how to put someone else's happiness before my own, no matter what the cost. He wasn't the one who taught me about magic, or love, or the magic of love. That was all you, Mulder. Every bit of it." She sat up and stroked his cheek with cool, slim fingers, sliding down to cup his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I owe you more than I can ever say, let alone possibly even begin to repay." He shook his head. "I don't want-" "I know. You don't want repayment. Well, I don't know if this could be considered repayment, Mulder. All I know is that you are and always will be the first father I ever had." He tore his eyes from her, scanning the dark forest, letting the threatened tears subside. "I love you, Shannon," he said, his voice breaking. "I know. And I'll always love you." They sat in the dark and quiet for a long time, her hand in his. Then, with no words equal to what had already been said, they stood, Mulder picked up his cloak, and they walked back to the castle, hand in hand, in silence. - - - - - Scully was surprised when she heard the solid knock on the door. She'd been taking a long quiet bath, waiting for Mulder to return from his walk. It would have been simple to reach out and touch Mulder's mind, but she felt strongly that this was something he needed to handle on his own. He had a right to some privacy, and she knew that he'd come to her when he was ready. Actually, she was not unhappy to have some peaceful time alone, it was a luxury that had been in short supply the past several weeks. Dropping the towel over the edge of the tub, she wrapped her robe around her, securing the belt firmly before walking over to the door and opening it. "Gunther?" she said, surprised at finding the Professor standing outside her door, his fancy clothes rumpled and stained from the day's festivities. His eyes widened at the sight of her, disheveled and damp, then he broke into apologies. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Dana, but if I could speak with you and Mulder for a moment...." Holding the door open for him to enter, she stepped aside and waved for him to precede her. "I'm afraid Mulder isn't here right now," she replied softly. "But please, come in. I'd be glad of the company. Would you like some tea?" The offer was second nature now, and he acceded to it with a faint smile. Sitting down in the large, plush armchair he waited for her to warm the kettle over the fire and then pour the tea. When they were both sitting and sipping at the soothing beverage, the Professor cleared his throat and met her eyes. She lifted an auburn eyebrow, indicating for him to begin. "Before you left on the trip, Mulder had asked me to keep an eye on the time, so that we could send you back with only two weeks having passed in your world. However, with all the trouble lately, I had gotten a bit lazy about keeping track. It's totally my fault that I didn't give you more warning, but I'm afraid that you're running quite short on time. I'm sorry, my dear." He shook his head sadly. Actually, Scully wasn't surprised. She'd had a feeling that it would soon be time for them to leave. As much as she loved the Realm and her friends here, she was beginning to miss her family and her home. Her heart was torn between two worlds now, but she knew that she belonged in her own place -- that cramped, dusty basement office which was now as much hers as it had ever been Mulder's. "It's not your fault, Professor. We've all been extremely busy. Mulder and I should have been paying more attention to it ourselves. How soon do we have to leave?" The Professor thought for a moment. "No later than two days from now. The dawn after tomorrow would probably be best. I think I can return you directly to Washington, but I can't promise that for sure. If I get the time exactly right, the spacial location becomes a bit...variable." He frowned unhappily. Scully responded with understanding and amusement. "Just as long as you don't dump us in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean!" Startled, the Professor gaped at her, then suddenly began to chuckle. "Indeed my dear! I will certainly make sure of that." "Thanks, we'd appreciate it." Scully smiled at him, took another sip of her tea, then leaned back in her chair to somberly contemplate the flames dancing in the fireplace. "I...We will both be sorry to leave, even though it'll be good to see my family again. I've missed Mom a lot." "Then it is indeed time for you to go home," he said sympathetically. "I guess so. You'll be staying here, though?" she asked. The Professor responded with heartfelt certainty. "Oh yes. This is my home now. I've been here for over eight season-cycles and I've come to love it very much. Certainly there are things I miss, but nothing that I can't live without." He gazed intently at her. "But there are things that you can't live without, both you and Mulder. For now, you must return." Scully nodded. It had never been in question. When the time came, they would leave again. Mulder still had his cause to fight for, a sister to find, and Scully herself? His path was her path, his quest was hers. Not just because she loved him, but also because there were answers she needed as well. Putting those concerns aside for a few months had been a sweet relief, but they couldn't be ignored forever. Even so, she was going to miss this place. Her eyes wandered affectionately around the comfortable, familiar room. The huge, canopied bed and copper bathtub, the cushioned chairs by the fireplace, a cup of tea in her hands -- this chamber would always hold a cherished spot in her memories. "Are you all right, my dear?" The Professor's voice startled her, tea sloshing in her cup as she turned to look at him. Smiling reassuringly, she put her tea down then reached out to touch his arm. "Yes, I'm fine. I was just thinking about how much I'll miss this place." "Then you must come back again." A taste of eagerness crept into his gnarled voice. "Mage Hannu and I have already made great strides. I believe that we will soon be able to stabilize the vortex construction enough to make travel between dimensions much safer. Of course, it will have to be carefully controlled and restricted, but I see no reason that you and Mulder shouldn't be able to visit us again. In fact, we must insist upon it!" "Insist upon what?" Mulder's rich baritone interrupted. Scully and Gunther both twisted around to watch him as he entered the room, the door sliding shut behind him. He came up beside Scully, perching himself on the edge of her chair. His arm curled around her shoulders, and she nestled against him, welcoming with silent waves of affection. A tender smile curved his mouth as he looked down at her, then focused his gaze on the Professor, waiting for an answer to his question. "You and Scully must come back to visit us here again," Gunther replied bluntly. Mulder lifted his chin, surprised, then his expression sombered. He angled his head to meet Scully's eyes. "Yes, love," she told him gently. "We have to leave the day after tomorrow. At dawn." The firelight gleamed on the gold of her Companion ring as she closed her hand over his arm. //I'm sorry it's so soon.\\ //Me, too,\\ he sent softly. Turning back to Gunther, he sought confirmation. The Professor nodded briskly. "I'm afraid so. According to my calculations, if we don't send you back by then, you'll lose at least another month, perhaps a full year in the other world. I know that sounds strange, but the time-space relationship is not linear. It has..." Gunther frowned trying to find an appropriate analogy. "It has bubbles in it," he finished unsatisfactorily. Mulder and Scully exchanged an amused glance, then Mulder shrugged. "I'll take your word for it. Does anyone else know yet?" Gunther shook his head. "No. I only discovered it by accident." He chuckled. "Literally by accident -- I knocked some of my papers onto the floor. When I went to pick them up, something caught my eye and...well, I tend to get caught up in these things." Scully laughed. "You're not the only one with that tendency." She smiled affectionately at her bondmate. He faked a scowl at her, then grinned. //I do not!\\ //Do too!\\ she retorted, her thought sweeping his mind like a hand ruffling his hair. //Regardless, we're going to have to get ready quickly.\\ Mulder sobered quickly. "Yeah well, tomorrow is soon enough. Why don't you let us inform everyone, Gunther. I'll talk to Reinald in the morning." Gunther smiled, the expression stumbling into a loud yawn. "Perhaps you're right, Mulder. The morning is soon enough to work out the details," he said with a sheepish expression. "Come find me when you're ready. I should be in my workroom most of the day. Hannu and Livirnea will be working with me as well." He put down his teacup and stood up. Scully and Mulder got up as well, walking with him towards the door. "That sounds fine," Scully said. "See you tomorrow; and sleep well." "Oh yes, you too my dears. Good night." "Good night," Mulder echoed, holding open the heavy wooden door for the aged scientist. Gunther nodded to them both, then walked on down the hall. Once the door had closed behind him, Mulder turned and swiftly swept Scully up in his arms. She sighed with pleasure as he enveloped her. //How did your walk go?\\ she asked gently. He responded with a flood of emotion, sadness, joy, and acceptance all intertwined. //It's hard to let go, Scully. And it's not just that she reminds me so much of Samantha. Or what Samantha could have been like at her age.\\ He couldn't keep the bitter edge out of his thoughts, and it pierced Scully's heart like the twist of a knife. Her arms tightened around his waist, her mind offering him unconditional love and understanding. He leaned against her, his chin coming to rest on the top of her head. //I love Shannon for herself. And it's hard to give her up. At first I was afraid of being responsible for her, but now -- I'm really going to miss her, Scully.\\ //I know, Mulder.\\ She tilted her head so that she could look up into his eyes, the damp tangle of her hair cascading over his hand and arm as he cradled her neck. //But children grow up and have to go their own way. That doesn't mean she'll stop caring about you, she's just found the place she wants to be. The place where she belongs.\\ Mulder leaned down another inch to brush her forehead with his lips. //And I can't stay here.\\ //No. WE can't stay here,\\ she reminded him tenderly. He suddenly chuckled, squeezed her tightly, then disentangled himself from her long enough to take her hand and lead her towards the bed. Turning quickly, he lifted her up to sit on the mattress. She closed her hands over his arms and drew him close, savoring the change in position which placed their faces on an even level. They moved close enough to taste each other's breath, their minds linked more closely than their bodies. //Time for us to go home.\\ The thought emanated from both of them, simultaneously, and despite the flavor of sadness at saying goodbye to their loved ones here, a sharp pang of longing began to grow in them both. //We'll have to go back to pretending not to be a couple,\\ Scully mind-spoke wryly. //Skinner will probably chew us out over that fiasco in Boston,\\ added Mulder dryly. //No more magic.\\ //No more swordfighting.\\ //No more Black Mages out to get us.\\ //No more endless days on horseback.\\ //No more...\\ They both laughed, the sound trickling off as they kissed sweetly. Mulder nuzzled her cheek, breathing in the clean, flowery scent of her. //It doesn't matter where we are,\\ he thought, his love flowing like a river across her senses. //As long as you're with me.\\ //Always,\\ was the only response she had time to verbalize before he was sweeping her up into a passionate embrace. They lost themselves in each other, savoring the time together, here in this place that would always be so special to them, storing up memories for more difficult times ahead. Sharing a love that would conquer whatever demons life threw in their path, in this world and the next. - - - - - Approaching Reinald's quarters through the sun-dappled stone corridor, Mulder felt the tell-tale tingle on his skin long before he heard the chanting through the door. He waited until the flow of Old Realm had stopped and then knocked. At Reinald's call, he entered. Before him, Tarnor and the Royal Mage stood in their cloaks, surveying the parchment on the table in front of them. "Does Sirisa know that you two are up to magic again?" Reinald looked hurt, but Mulder had used the same tactic too often to be taken in. "It's with her blessing, Mulder. I'm surprised you would think anything else." "I'm not sure throwing up her hands and leaving in disgust precisely constitutes a 'blessing'," Tarnor countered dryly. Mulder chuckled. "Reinald was his usual bad patient again? What're you working on?" "Hannu wrote out a few of the spells to the Lost Powers. We just thought we'd start practicing so when we're at full strength again, we won't be rusty. But come, sit by the fire. We were about to take a rest anyway. Pitir?" "Tea will be ready in a moment, Royal Mage." "At least try not to practice the earthquake spell," Mulder said, lowering himself into one of the armchairs. "There's been enough damage around here already." "He neglected to write that one down for us, actually," replied Tarnor, looking comically disappointed. He accepted a mug from Pitir. "Well, I just came to tell you - Scully and I are leaving tomorrow morning." "What? So soon?" The Royal Mage looked stricken. Mulder laughed. "We've been here a long time, Reinald. Maybe it's only been a couple of weeks in my world, but we've been here close to a season-cycle in Realm-time." "This is so hard," said Tarnor, his ears drooping dejectedly. "And even though it's the second time we've had to say goodbye to you, it doesn't get any easier. Are you sure you have to go?" "I'm sure," he smiled. "Scully misses her family and we both have jobs to go back to." "Well, I'm glad you got a chance to see more of the Realm this visit - especially my village and my family. I sometimes think that they thought I was making you up. We haven't had much of a chance to talk about your trip, there's been so much going on." "I know. It seems like we always leave with so much unsaid," responded Mulder regretfully. "But at least one problem is out of your lives. And Andalor's happy at last. You won't regret his choice, Reinald, I promise you. Shannon's going to make a wonderful queen, and I think Andalor will do a better job as king if he's happy." "I'm sure you're correct, my boy. Please understand, I had nothing against Shannon all along." He sighed. "We get so mired here in our traditions that it sometimes obscures what makes sense." "I doubt that this is the last time Andalor's going to challenge those traditions, Reinald. You'd better brace yourself. I think you can expect that his brief exposure to my world has altered his thinking and may effect some of his decisions. Just trust him. I know he has the Realm's interests at heart. After all, he was ready to throw away his happiness because of it." Reinald nodded. "Quite right, Mulder. Oh, there's something you should know. We've been speaking with Lita. She has seen startling changes in Shannon's aura. When we had the aura-reading dictated by our rituals the day before the betrothal ceremony, she noticed how Shannon's aura now has much more Mage-blue in it, a really dramatic change from her first reading when she arrived in the Realm. Lita is unable to account for it, but feels that Shannon should start formal Mage-training." "Not that she's likely to ever practice magic frequently," continued Tarnor, "but she must learn to control the natural ability she has." "I don't envy any of you," Mulder smiled, remembering his own rough initiation. "But she couldn't have better teachers. With the two of you plus Hannu to teach her and bear the brunt of her beginner's mistakes, she'll do fine." "Do you know what I find unbelievably ironic about all this?" Tarnor mused. "The Black Mage wanted to re-establish a dynasty of Mage-royalty over the Realm. In the next generation, it looks like there may be such a dynasty - but of Blue Mage-kings and queens rather than black." Mulder thought about it. If Shannon's children carried her gift, there could indeed be such a dynasty. And if they carried Andalor's eidetic memory as well, they would be truly formidable. But what was he thinking? Shannon's children? Why, she was barely more than a child herself! Then he corrected himself. No. A young woman, who all too shortly would be married to the king, with an expectant kingdom waiting for heirs. He found the thought disconcerting. "Time will tell," he murmured. - - - - - Outside the stone cottage, Jourdain was stripped to the waist, the muscles of his arms and chest bulging as he vigorously sawed an enormous beam. "You look busy." Scully smiled, her auburn hair glinting in the warm sunlight. "Ah, Warrior-Healer Scully! I didn't hear you approach. Yes, I'm afraid our little house was damaged by the Mage-attack, like so many others." He pointed to the wall that was once part of their bedroom, now a heap of stone and twisted lumber. "We've moved into the main living area for the time being." "I'm so sorry, Jourdain. I had no idea your home was damaged so badly." He shrugged. "Oh, it won't take long to repair it. Aldara always wanted a bigger window in the bedroom, anyway. I'll put it in for her when I put up the new wall. She nodded. "Is she in?" "Of course, go right in. She'll be glad of your company." He leaned toward her and his voice dropped to a gruff whisper. "And so will I, to tell the truth. She was in the midst of trying to prepare something 'new and special' for supper." He pretended to shudder. Scully laughed. "I'll see what I can do to prevent that." "I would be extremely grateful," he said earnestly. She laughed again and pushed open the door. At first she was startled, thinking her friend ill. Then she realized that Aldara's pallor was caused by a liberal coating of flour on her face, hair and clothing. "What in the world are you making?" Aldara looked up, a bemused expression on her face. "Jhorgab's coming to dinner tonight and I thought I'd make him something special. It's supposed to be a troll dish - some sort of meat pie. But...I don't know, it doesn't look quite right to me." Scully surveyed the gray, bubbling mass of dough-like substance that seemed to have taken on a life of its own in the big pottery bowl. Occasionally a bubble would burst with a soft poofing sound and the mass would move and settle. "I think you'd better let Lita take a shot at it. This looks...a bit...complicated." "I suppose you're right. Well, sit and have some tea. I can usually make that safely." Soon the mess had been cleared away and they both sat at the table over steaming mugs of fragrant tea. "I wanted to tell you before you heard it from anyone else," Scully said. "Mulder and I are leaving in the morning." "Leaving? For where?" "Back to our world." "What? But why?" "We have to get back before our vacation time is over in our world. According to Gunther, we have to leave by dawn tomorrow or risk arriving back very late indeed." "Would that be so bad?" "Aldara, you've met Skinner! You tell me." She giggled. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I've gotten so used to your being here, it seems like this is your home. I forget that it isn't. Goddess, I'm going to miss you." "And I'm going to miss you, and everyone else. And just being here. It seems like home to me, too, in a lot of ways." Scully sighed, then shook off the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. "Have I missed any news?" Aldara always knew what was going on everywhere, getting much of her information from the chatty Lita. Aldara glowed. "Well, Daanna is doing wonderfully. I don't know, ever since the Black Mage's defeat, it's like she's a normal little girl again. No foretelling dreams, no nightmares, no drifting off into space and muttering to herself. I have my little girl back, Dana." "That's wonderful," Scully said warmly. "But you need to listen to her when she does have them again, because I think she will. The child has a gift, Dara. Don't be afraid of it. Without the information from her foretelling dreams and her help in fighting the Black Mage, things might have turned out very differently." "I know. It's just something I'm going to have to get used to. She's seeing a lot of Hannu - I think she fascinates him. Maybe he can help me come to terms with this. Now let's see, what else? Oh! Kyla is doing much better." "Oh, I'm glad to hear that." "Yes, it seems like she too began to improve by leaps and bounds the moment the Black Mage had been dealt with. She's now up and around and Sirisa even told her that she may go back to healing within the moon-cycle." "That's great news. I'm sure Sirisa will be glad of the help." Aldara nodded, looking grim. "We lost so many. First in the bloodshed and the storms, then in the Mage-attack. Realm- wide, I hate to even think of how many died, especially in those areas just recovering after the War with the Dark Creatures." She shook her head. "We had a report from Bashar in Waterrush with the troops. He said it's as if everyone is coming out of a terrible trance, horrified by what they find on awakening. But, thank the Goddess, everyone is starting to band together to rebuild. There seems to be no bad feelings or thoughts of revenge between the species. They seem to understand that things went out of control through no fault of their own." She paused. "Once again, we have so much to thank you and Mulder for. I can only imagine the nightmare it could have been if the Black Mage hadn't been defeated." Scully shook her head dismissively. "Just like in the War with the Dark Creatures, everyone did their part, Aldara. Besides, the Realm is our second home now - we had as much to lose as anyone." The half-Elf gave her friend a twisted smile. "So you're really leaving." "We'll be back, Aldara. I promise." - - - - - Hand in hand, the bondmates climbed the last flight of worn stone steps to the top floor of the castle, deftly avoiding the chunks of stonework that had fallen in the Mage-attack. The stones of their Companion rings glowed softly in the dim light of the staircase. They had searched most of the keep, looking for their friends. The Professor's workroom was the last place they had to check. Instead of the whir and whine of the Professor's infernal machines, the sound of conversation and laughter issued from behind the half-open door. "Should we be insulted that we weren't invited to this party?" Mulder joked. The Professor looked up, a welcoming smile creasing his weathered face. "Mulder, Scully! How wonderful! Please come in." Shannon, Livirnea and Andalor were engaged in a lively discussion, appearing no different from teenagers in Mulder's world. They welcomed the bondmates, and Andalor formally introduced them to Livirnea, whom Mulder and Scully had not had a chance to speak to in the busy days since their return. They found her charming and almost frighteningly intelligent. She was a good match for the Professor, someone who would keep him youthful as he imparted his knowledge to the young protege. They inquired after the health of her father, relieved to learn he had reached home safely and was making a little progress. Jhorgab was chattering to Gunther and Hannu, who seemed to delight in his non-stop babble. Hannu seemed years younger than when they had first met him in the mysterious village of Montveil. His hair and beard had been neatly trimmed and his amber eyes sparkled. Having a daughter, someone to love him who was a part of someone he had loved obviously agreed with him. The stimulation of the Professor and the other Mages no doubt contributed as well. "I'm glad you're all here. Mulder and I wanted to let you know. We're returning to our world tomorrow." There were outcries of protest from everyone in the room, except of course for Gunther, who knew the purpose of their visit. "But things are finally settling down," Shannon protested. "You could have a real vacation now!" Mulder regarded the girl warmly. "I know, Shannon. But we have to get back to work." "It's so hard being a part of two worlds," Scully observed. "Wherever you are, you always miss something about the other. But we've been here for quite a while in Realm-time, and it's time for us to go back." "And at least we're leaving here knowing everything has worked out," added Mulder, smiling at the betrothed couple. Then he turned to the troll. "What are your plans, Jhorgab?" "I'm so very glad and flattered that you should inquire, Mage Mulder. I believe I will stay here in Fairwoods for a while, among my new friends. There's so much to see and do!" "And to eat," Mulder teased. The little troll looked sheepish, "Well, I must admit I have been treated most kindly by the beings here, most generously, if I may say so. And there is enough work that I may do, at least until my uncle's caravan returns in the autumn." "And possibly beyond that," Andalor said. "I have a couple of ideas that may appeal to you, when we can get together to talk." The troll's heavy eyebrows lifted in surprise and pleasure. "Truly, Your Majesty?" "Truly," Andalor smiled. Then his gaze turned to the bondmates. "I don't know what we would have done without you. The Realm already owes you so much, and now that debt has doubled. You will always have a home here at the castle, please remember that." Scully smiled, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you Andalor. We're going to miss all of you so much." "But, they'll be back," Hannu announced firmly. "Gunther, Livirnea, the Mages and I will all be working on a way to come and go between worlds safely. We have already made several discoveries that will make it easier. Who knows, perhaps someday I will return to your world for a visit." "That would be great," Mulder grinned. "And you might think of bringing your daughter with you," he added hopefully. Hannu looked at him with perfect understanding; respect and gratitude shone from the honey-colored eyes. "That I will, Mage Mulder." "Just let him try to go there without me," Shannon declared. "So what time do you leave?" "Tomorrow morning at dawn. We're not in charge of the timing, Gunther is. And if we miss our window of opportunity, Scully and I will be looking for new jobs. We're both kind of attached to the ones we have. Do you think you might join us to say goodbye?" he asked Shannon. The teenager rose and walked over to the tall Mage and hugged him tightly. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." - - - - - The sun rose in a shimmer of gold, gleaming fingers of light filtering through the leaves and warming the night-chilled stone of the courtyard. The air was crisp with the dawn, dew pooling in the cracks and beading on the flowers. Mulder and Scully were ready early, and they waited patiently for the Professor, Hannu and Reinald to join them. Most of their farewells had been said the night before at an impromptu party that had gone on until very late. There, memories were exchanged and promises made. Then the time for giving gifts arrived. Each presented a memento to the touched bondmates. Reinald had solemnly given Mulder a small pouch of freshly enhanced crystals, so that they could maintain communication with the Realm. Shannon and Andalor approached with a large wrapped package. "With our love," they said. Unwrapping it, Mulder found an exquisitely carved wooden shield depicting Andalor's family's coat of arms. One corner was slightly chipped and splintered. "For generations it has hung in the Great Hall," Andalor explained. "It came down during the Black Mage's attack. We thought you might like it as a keepsake." "We'll treasure it always," Scully replied warmly. One by one, their friends lay their offerings before them, the mementos prompting both laughter and tears. It would have been impossibly poignant but for the fact that this time they knew they could find their way back. That assurance made the parting just a bit easier. Sword and bag slung over his shoulder, Mulder stayed close beside Scully. Her peach-complexioned face was serene, but he could feel the stirrings of her emotions. He felt as she did, excitement and relief to be returning home, sadness and loss at leaving his friends and loved ones behind. She turned to look up into his eyes, a warm, glinting swirl of earth brown and emerald green. He smiled, and reached out to close his hand upon hers. Their rings sparked with the contact, then settled, the Companion spell quiescent beneath their control. //I'm going to miss it here,\\ Scully thought yet again. Mulder agreed silently, twining his fingers with hers, enjoying the feel of her skin next to his as she took hold of him. They paused to take a sweeping look around, freeze-framing the memory for the days to come, then turned as one at the sound of footsteps behind them. Hannu and Gunther arrived first, Reinald and Tarnor close behind. Shannon nudged her way between the Mages, Jhorgab at her heels, Andalor and Livirnea following more sedately. Jourdain and Aldara came from the other direction, Daanna nestled in her father's broad arms. "We all wanted to come see you off," Shannon announced, stepping up in front of Mulder. He smiled softly, wistfully, down at her, and her restraint broke. "Oh, I'm going to miss you so much, Mulder!!" she cried, leaping up to grab him in a fierce hug. His sword and shoulderbag clunked to the ground, but he ignored them, lifting her off her feet as he returned her embrace. When he released Shannon, she turned and hugged Scully, tears glistening in all of their eyes. Mulder turned to Hannu standing quietly aside, and offered his hand. "Take good care of her!" Mulder demanded hoarsely. Hannu nodded solemnly, shaking Mulder's hand firmly. "I will do everything I can to see her happy." "Thank you," Mulder replied, then he released Hannu and turned to Reinald. As they grasped each other's shoulders, everyone crowded in, resulting in a flurry of hugs and well-wishes. Most of it had been said the previous day, but it was difficult to let the beloved pair go without saying good-bye and good-luck one last time. Finally, the Professor gazed sadly up at the sun and firmly declared it was time to go. Mulder and Scully nodded and stooped to pick up their bags and swords. Then with the group, they left the confines of the courtyard to stroll to the meadow beyond. Gunther and Hannu carried surprisingly little in the way of equipment and wires. They set their materials down a few paces away and bent over them, making connections. "Is that all?" asked Mulder doubtfully. "Well, I did say we had made some improvements," responded Hannu with a grin. "Plus, with three Mages to invoke the spell, it cuts down on the equipment. Are you ready?" They sighed and Mulder gripped Scully's hand. "Yes. Send us back." Reinald, Tarnor and Hannu formed a semicircle to one side of the equipment, Mulder and Scully a few meters away on the other. There was a crackle and a hum from the wires. Then they all closed their eyes and the familiar Old Realm chanting began. A wind rose up around Mulder and Scully, obscuring them from view. The chant rose higher, then broke off into the whine of the wind. There was a brilliant flash of light, forcing all of the watchers to shield their eyes. When they lowered their hands, the air was still again - still and empty. Mulder and Scully were gone. End Chapter Twenty-Four THE DARK QUEEN The Magician - Book Three by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com) --------------------------------------------------------------------------- See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Epilogue He didn't understand it. Anyone else ordered to take a vacation would have gone off to Florida or Hawaii and laid on the beach. Or gone to Colorado and broken a leg skiing. But not Mulder and Scully. No way. That would be far too normal. FBI Assistant Director Walter Skinner frowned as he peered over the top of his spectacles at the recalcitrant pair of agents. Scully appeared as cool and collected as ever, not a single auburn strand of hair out of place. She had apparently put on a bit of weight, but it looked extremely healthy - like she'd built up some muscle. Mulder, too, looked even more athletic than usual and it appeared that he had cut his hair recently. His skin was extremely well-tanned, but his choice in ties was unusually bad even for him. Skinner squinted unhappily at it, then stifled a sigh of frustration. In his best Marine sergeant voice, Skinner demanded to know what on earth they had been up to. Mulder's mobile features immediately settled into boyish earnestness, while Scully's eyes barely flickered. "We went on vacation, sir, as you ordered," Mulder replied. Skinner simply LOOKED at him for a moment, then slowly drawled his reply. "And does your vacation usually include searching for runaway teenagers, misleading government employees, exploding government facilities, and generally wreaking havoc on downtown Boston?" Mulder winced, exchanged a quick glance with Scully. She met her boss's eyes firmly and answered smoothly. "Sir, I assure you we had nothing to do with any exploding buildings, and as for the rest of it, well... it's something of a long story, but we didn't mean to cause any harm. A friend of mine came to me for help when her brother ran away from home, and we assisted her in finding him." Skinner stared unblinkingly at her, then slowly dipped his eyes to consult the file before him. "That would be 'Aldara' and the boy, Andalor?" Scully nodded. "Yes, sir." "According to the Boston office, you..." Skinner fixed Mulder with a cool stare, "told the agents that he was part of the witness protection program. This, however, is not true." Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Skinner silenced him with a wave of his hand. Mulder clamped his jaw shut, swallowed, and looked thoughtful for a moment. Again, Skinner got the sense that something was passing between his two agents that he couldn't penetrate - a communication that was no less powerful for all its silent nature. Scully tilted her head slightly to the side, and Mulder looked back up to meet Skinner's eyes. "We only said that to protect the boy and his family." "How so?" Skinner demanded. "Well, the truth is that Andalor was in the country illegally," Mulder replied. Skinner shifted in his chair, surprise flashing across his usually unemotive features. He waved a hand for the agent to continue. "Andalor was secretly brought into the states several years ago. He's the last male heir of the royal family of a tiny country that was swallowed up by the Soviet Union." Before Skinner could speak, Mulder held up his hand, shaking his head. "Don't ask, I don't know myself. Anyway, Andalor's sister, Aldara, met Scully at a woman's self-defense class and they became friends. So when Andalor ran away from home, she went to Scully for help. She asked us to keep this very quiet, so we made up the story about the witness protection program." Skinner narrowed his eyes, studying both agents suspiciously. "And where are they now?" "Gone back to their country, sir. It's finally safe for them to return." Scully answered quickly. Mulder nodded agreement. Skinner frowned again. "So I take it that there's no way to contact them and verify your story?" "I'm afraid not," Mulder said with faint amusement. "And what about the missing girl...Shannon...?" There was another rapid-fire, unspoken consultation between the two agents, then Scully replied softly. "She went with Andalor." "She did what?" Skinner barked. "Well, she and Andalor became very fond of each other and since she didn't have anywhere else to go, we figured she was better off staying with his family. She'd only have ended up in a foster home anyway," Mulder explained. Skinner sighed, leaning back in his chair. He didn't believe a word of this, but then, he often had a hard time believing most of the escapades these two got into. "And what about the damage to....five parked cars, one fire hydrant, two street lamps, and a street vendor's stand?" The A.D. asked, suddenly weary of the whole mess. Mulder grimaced. "I'll take care of it, sir. I shouldn't have let Aldara try to drive. She doesn't know how." "Indeed." Skinner replied coldly. The room fell silent for a brief moment, then Skinner tapped a pen against the desk. Gazing almost sadly at them both, he sighed. "Do you two get pleasure out of creating chaos everywhere you go? Do you have any idea how much trouble you've created in the past two weeks? As if the OPR inquest and Grinman's complaints weren't bad enough, you had to send half the city of Boston into an uproar - when you were *supposed* to be on vacation!! Then you both disappear, apparently off the face of the earth, along with a teenage girl whose mother just died under mysterious circumstances." Both agents were staring at him as his voice began to rise, and he snapped his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he stared at them for a moment, then gave up. Mulder's jaw was set in defiance and Scully's face held the same bland look she'd displayed that time she'd lied to protect Mulder against Tooms' accusations. Skinner had known full well those accusations were a crock of shit, but he had almost been forced to act on them anyway. The only question now was - what were they hiding? However, from the looks in both of their eyes, he was not going to get a clear answer. Sighing, he decided to give it up - for now. But at the same time, he promised himself that this was the last time he insisted they take a vacation. At least if they were at work, he had some control over the messes they got into. "All right, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully" he said, switching gears swiftly. "Since the OPR inquest on the matter of the Pittsburgh Rapist has acquitted you both of any misconduct, and your vacation time is over, you will both return immediately to work." Selecting a thick manila folder from the top of a pile on his desk, he handed it out to Scully, who swiftly came forward to receive it. "Here's your new case, get on it right away. And please - do us all a favor and at least attempt to stay out of further trouble." Skinner gritted his teeth at the slight edge of a whine in his voice. Damn them, they always did manage to get under his skin. "Yes, sir!" Scully replied, obviously delighted to have the meeting over. Mulder nodded, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small, shiny object. He held it out towards Skinner, a mischievous grin curling the corners of his mouth. "Before I forget, sir, we got you a gift on our trip." Skinner stared at Mulder in shock, then looked down at the object in question. Reaching out, he took the gold hilt in his hand, abruptly recognizing it as a small, ornately decorated dagger. His eyes widened as he looked from it to Mulder, who was still grinning boyishly, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hhrrmmm," Skinner growled. "I...uh...appreciate the thought, Agent Mulder. Thank you." "You're welcome, sir!" Mulder crowed, then sliding a hand across the small of Scully's back, he guided her from the room. The door closed firmly behind them leaving Skinner still gazing at the small knife in his hand. Sliding it from its strangely-tooled leather sheath, he realized with sudden shock that the handle had to be plated with gold. The blade itself appeared to be something like wrought iron, and the hilt was studded with a pair of bright, winking jewels, tiny rubies by the look of them. It appeared to be ancient and was probably extremely valuable, unless he missed his guess. Skinner's mouth pursed, his eyes wide behind his glasses. How could they have afforded this... ...and where on *earth* could they have gotten it from? The End