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.