THE MAGICIAN By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Jennifer Lyon (Ecksphile@aol.com, Jenni10647@aol.com) Originally released to EMXC June 1995 Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Prologue He was under no illusions - he was running for his life. Here, in the deepest part of the forest where the two realms abutted, there was only one possible haven, the one that Reinald had told him to seek. The wind-whipped branches lashed at his face as he crashed through the dark and the rain, his pursuers terrifyingly close behind. The baying of the Hunters and the shriek of the Destroyers were increasingly loud in his quivering ears as he headed by instinct to the only possible escape; if indeed that's what it was - for nothing had ever returned alive from the Vortex. He couldn't be sure he wasn't heading into disaster, but with certain death nipping at his heels, the choice was clear. He leapt over fallen trees and gnarled roots, panting, his chest on fire with the need for air. He thought briefly - only briefly - of his loved ones and the life he would be leaving behind, then ruthlessly set those thoughts aside. Right now, he needed to focus on survival. While the baying and shrieks grew ever nearer, he finally saw his only chance at survival just a few hundred meters away. He could hear the low pitched roar of the Vortex as he forced his exhausted limbs onward. Sandwiched between the pursuing fiends and the boiling, flashing nothingness of the Vortex, he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, then the sour scent of the Hunters and the nauseating stench of the Destroyers strengthened his resolve. They couldn't be more than fifty meters behind. As he heard their shouts of impending triumph come closer and closer, he drew a deep breath and hurled himself into the center of the Vortex. A scream of terror echoed faintly in his ears as he fell through a spinning web of light and shadow. Fell endlessly, head over heels, over and over, until finally... ...he crashed onto the floor of a cold, dark, cheerless chamber, filled with equipment and metal tables and storage spaces. Certainly different from what he was accustomed to, but for the moment, safe. He curled up into a ball in a corner of the room and slept. ~ ~ ~ Reinald stared into the Oracle Cloud. Tarnor was safe. But to bring him back would take all of the Mage's wisdom and power. No one else had ever been able to do it - he wasn't certain that even he could. Especially now, when both his strength and that of the Realm itself were being assailed on all sides.... Think, think! Reinald blinked and rubbed his eyes. He was already exhausted from the search. If he did not find Another soon, someone with the strength to join with him - melding their powers together in defense against the great evil - then the Realm would be lost. Perhaps Tarnor would be better off wherever he was. Focusing back on his lost friend, Reinald could get only fragmented impressions of that strange place. The darkly clouded images, augmented by a few sensations, smells and tastes, were obtained less through the Cloud than from his link with Tarnor. Focusing his thoughts with fierce determination, he sent a message along that link to comfort himself as much as Tarnor, "I will not forget - I will bring you back - have courage". Chapter One Washington D.C. Monday, March 6, 1995 8:30 a.m. "Scully, you're going to love this one." Mulder grinned up at his partner as she entered their cramped basement office. Scully closed the door behind her and made her way over to her desk. From her expression, and the careless way she dumped her briefcase on the desk, her week was not starting out well. "Mulder, when you say that, I know the day is shot. Bad enough that I overslept, had no hot water for my shower and put a huge hole in my last pair of hose. Just let me get some coffee before I become homicidal." He pushed her steaming mug across the desk at her and smiled. "All ready for you, Scully." She picked it up and sipped at the hot liquid gratefully, perching herself on the edge of the desk. After a couple of swallows, she looked up at him with suspicion. "Oh, God, now I KNOW I'm going to hate it. Okay, I'll bite - what is it - Elvis has fathered an alien baby and we're invited to the christening, or what?" "I'm hurt, Scully." He feigned taking an arrow through the heart, then grinned. Leaping up to lean over the desk, he placed his lips near her ear and whispered conspiratorially, "Read this and BE AMAZED." He handed her an X-File with a low ID number, then sat back down in his chair as she flipped through it, scanning the documents, her eyes widening as she studied the photographs. "Mulder, this is impossible." Her partner watched with mixed amusement and amazement as one auburn eyebrow inched its way up her forehead. She could have given Mr. Spock lessons in how to display that look of intellectual incredulity. "Evidently not," he replied, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his knees. "These photographs were taken at MIT. The file was started in 1951 after the first occurrence. Entries have been made on an irregular basis six times since then. All of the occurrences have been similar. A creature, for want of a better word, suddenly appears in one of the labs - always the same one - on the MIT campus. This lab is always kept locked when no one is actually working in it, which apparently is most of the time. It's opened only on days when certain experiments are being done using certain equipment. Because of the classified nature of the experiments, the room isn't even unlocked for cleaning, so it often stays locked for weeks at a time. In the occurrences from 1951 to 1987, the creatures discovered in the lab were dead, probably from starvation or dehydration. But it's a little different this time. This time, Scully, we've got a live one." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ They were boarding a plane to Logan International Airport less than ninety minutes later. Scully hadn't bothered to protest. When Mulder got on the trail of a case like this, he was impossible to derail. Either she went with him, or he went alone. At least if she was with him, she could possibly keep him out of trouble. Of course, there was also the small part of her that was fascinated by the case itself. She didn't like to admit it, but sometimes she really was curious about the weird events they investigated, and this was one of those times. Finally settling into their seats after a terrifyingly fast dash to the airport, Scully was appreciative, as she often was when they traveled, that her smaller size made squeezing into the cramped seats relatively easy for her. As usual, her partner's long legs were crammed into an uncomfortable position, one splayed out into the aisle. Mulder grimaced at her as he adjusted his position yet again, then opened the briefcase he was still holding in his lap. He might as well take full advantage of the flight time to fill her in on more of the details. He spread the photographs out on the their tray tables. "You'll notice that of the seven creatures, there are three distinct types, which they have imaginatively named Type A, Type B and Type C. The types are divided on the basis of size, facial and body characteristics, and so on. The latest arrival is a Type B - what I personally prefer to call the Gargoyle series, as opposed to the Troll series and the Elf series. It stands approximately one meter tall and weighs 19 kilograms, although the weight was probably not accurate, as the creature was neither enthusiastic nor cooperative about being weighed. It does not appear to understand any of the languages which have been tried - the count stands at thirty five - but researchers on the scene say that they feel the creature is intelligent, and they are still seeking ways to communicate with it. Apparently, it is drinking sterilized water, but has refused food so far." "Mulder, where did this thing come from?" Scully questioned, pulling one of the photographs closer to study it intently. "And please, please don't say what I think you're going to say." "Believe it or not, I wasn't," he replied, leaning back in the chair, angling his head to the side to look down at the top of her head, still bent over the glossy photos. "There have been several theories throughout the years. One is that these poor creatures are the results of experiments done in genetics at MIT, and somehow, they were inadvertently locked in the room and were not able to get out. If they are the results of genetics experiments, no one has admitted to it, which is hardly surprising. Another theory of the early fifties - and the favorite of paranoiacs everywhere - is that they were beings created by the Soviets to spy on us and take our most valuable research. The theory does not go on to explain how these beings were supposed to blend in with the indigenous population," he added dryly. "In any case, I think we can rule that theory out - our Type B doesn't understand Russian. Anyway, the bodies of the others were taken by "someone in the government" according to sources at MIT, although no one will ever know who - there's no paper trail, no evidence other than what MIT sent the Bureau for inclusion in the X-Files, and no one's volunteering any information. I have my own ideas about that, but knowing won't get us any further ahead anyway. So in answer to your question, Scully, I don't know where they came from. That's one of the things we're here to find out." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ After landing and collecting their baggage, they joined the continuous traffic jam that *is* Boston and drove the three miles from the airport to MIT in the record time of one hour and fifteen minutes. They found the building in question quickly. Oddly, there seemed to be little excitement, possibly because the students and the professors were so focused in their individual pursuits that they were unaware of the extraordinary events taking place down the hall. They knocked at the door to Lab 301, and it was opened by a gaunt older man in a lab coat. "Professor Neumann? I'm Fox Mulder, this is Dana Scully. I spoke to you earlier today." They displayed their FBI I.D. photos. The professor took hold of Mulder's and studied it thoroughly, nodded, and stepped back to let them enter. In answer to their quizzical expressions, he said, "It's in the lab proper - this is just the prep room. My assistant and I still haven't had any luck communicating with it. It is non-aggressive and appears to be frightened. I'd say it hadn't been in the lab very long when we found it. It was thirsty, but appears to be in good shape otherwise. We're trying to keep this under wraps as much as possible. I was here the last time this happened in '87. The attitude of the government-types who took charge of the creature's body and interrogated everyone here reminded me of the Gestapo. This is a living being, and I believe an intelligent one. I would not willingly trust its fate to people like that. Well, do you think you're ready?" He smiled wryly and shook his head. "Believe me, you will never be totally prepared for what you're about to see." Neumann lightly rapped an irregular series of knocks on the inner door. A few seconds later it was opened by a middle- aged woman who, recognizing Neumann, admitted them. The room they entered was almost thirty feet in length and twenty feet in width, and was divided in half lengthwise by a long, gleaming stainless steel work table. The long sides of the room were lined with metal counters, with storage compartments above and below. Scattered on the counters were computers, a laser and other space-age equipment. Neumann and the woman, both dressed in identical white lab-coats, went to stand on one side of the long table; on the other, in the furthest corner of the room from the doorway in which they were standing, squatted the creature. "Oh Mulder - oh, my God!" Scully backed up a step, eyes dilating with amazement. Mulder brushed past her, curiosity and delight written upon his face. The two agents remained at the head of the table observing the creature. It was roughly humanoid in appearance and clothed in a blue leather-like tunic, with a large brown pouch bound to its silver buckled belt. It was a steel gray in color except for the palms of its hands and the soles of its feet, which were darker, almost black. Its skin had a leathery appearance, and it was scattered with coarse looking black hair. There was no way to tell if the creature was male or female though it did have a short, stubby tail protruding out from under its short tunic. The joints were knobby, enlarged, and the hands and feet were disproportionately big and deformed- looking, by human standards. Its face was grotesque, with a huge mouth, rather alarming pointed teeth, a spreading nose, and tiny eyes. Wide, pointed ears stood out from its head. Swinging around to take in Mulder and Scully, the creature's ears popped up to their full length and its chest rose and fell rapidly. It slowly moved to a standing position. Tarnor stared at the newcomers. These two did not have the weak, pastel aura of the woman. They didn't even have the Thin One's light gray aura of the intellectual. These were the types of beings he was more familiar with, beings surrounded by warm, strong, vibrantly colored auras. The Short One's aura was unique - the healer's brown at the center, with a wide border of warrior green. The two colors swirled and mixed in intricate patterns where they met. Tarnor had never seen such a combination before. Then his eyes turned to her tall, male companion. Great Deities above! Tarnor blinked, then looked again. The fierce blue of this human's aura rivaled Reinald's own, almost blinding in its intensity. It glowed, clear and pure, like the cloudless sky on a bright summer's noon. At last, something familiar - it was greatly reassuring that this frightening strange place had magicians too. Surely a magician as powerful as this one would understand Tarnor's predicament. Tentatively, Tarnor focused his thoughts and energy and tried to reach out to the Tall One. He was not accomplished at establishing links yet, at least not with anyone except Reinald, but if he could find an ally in this strange land... Mulder instinctively put his hand out for balance as a wave of dizziness and nausea struck him. Scully grabbed his arm to steady him. "Mulder, are you all right? Do you want to sit down? You're white as a sheet!" "I - I think I... No, it's gone now. I'm fine. Must be jet lag or something." From the way that Scully looked at him, Mulder knew they'd be talking about this later. The creature was now squatting again, and appeared withdrawn. It closed its eyes for several minutes, its breathing slowed, and it appeared as if it had gone to sleep. Suddenly, it stood again, looked at Mulder, and took a few experimental steps towards him. The woman scientist instinctively took a step back as the creature emerged from the corner. This was new - up to now, it had not approached anyone, but had only retreated and assumed a defensive posture. Mulder, Scully and Neumann held their ground as the creature came several steps closer, now only about fifteen feet away. Mulder squatted down, wanting to avoid intimidating the creature by equalizing their heights. Unfortunately, the position also impeded his ability to move quickly if necessary. He hoped that wouldn't be necessary since he desperately wanted to communicate with it. He had so many questions.... "I hope you know what you're doing," Scully said softly. She and Neumann paced back a couple of steps, and she slid her hand unobtrusively to her weapon, never taking her eyes off the strange creature. It continued to advance, now within a few feet. Mulder extended his arms, resting them on his knees, and held out both hands, palms up, debating whether or not to look the creature right in the eyes. Although a sign of honesty and forthrightness in Westerners, a direct stare was interpreted as a challenge in some human and animal cultures. While the agent was considering the question, his eyes still focused on the creature's feet, it took one more step, then squatted and extended its hands to within an inch of Mulder's. For a minute or two, they were motionless. Then Mulder closed the distance to gently touch his hands to the creature's and looked into its face. Everyone watching felt their breath catch and hold in their throats. There was a change of expression on the creature's face as the contact took place, a relaxation of sorts. It placed one of its dry palms flat against Mulder's, and slowly and carefully placed the heel of its other hand against Mulder's forehead, its eyes locked with his. They froze in that position for several minutes, their expressions vacant. Then, ever so slowly, the emptiness on their faces cleared and the creature broke contact. It got back up onto its feet, walked back to its corner in its peculiar rolling gait, and sat. The room breathed again. Mulder stood unsteadily, and again, Scully anchored him. "Professor Neumann, we still need to check in at the hotel, and Agent Mulder seems to be having a recurrence of his hypoglycemia and needs to eat - could we return this evening?" "Absolutely. I should be here until ten or so. This interaction just now - incredible. Makes me sorry I went in for Physics instead of Zoology." The professor eyed the creature with an expression of mixed hunger and curiosity. "We'll see you tonight then. Thank you." Scully put her arm around Mulder's back and supported him as they left the room. Mulder was silent as they walked out of the building and found the car in the parking lot. "I'll drive, Mulder." Scully insisted, watching him with concern. He nodded silently and flipped her the keys, which she deftly caught. After they were both settled in their seats, she turned the engine over, and drove out of the parking lot. They traveled along Memorial Drive to their hotel, the buildings of MIT and then Harvard on their right, the Charles River and the Boston skyline to their left. Scully slid a glance over to her still-silent partner. He was pale, and his fingers trembled slightly. Concerned, she asked, "How close did I come to the truth? *Do* you need to eat?" "It wouldn't hurt." Mulder said absently. They turned into the parking lot of the Hyatt Regency - a concession he had made to his partner's bad mood earlier in the day. While Mulder registered for the two of them, Scully stopped at the coffee shop and got some sandwiches and fruit juice. When they got to their rooms, they opened the communicating door, threw down their baggage, and Scully spread the food out on the table in her room. "Sorry, no iced tea, they don't have it in the winter up here, apparently." "S'alright." He started eating his tuna on toast, his mind most definitely elsewhere. She noticed that although his color had improved, he was still trembling slightly. They ate in companionable quiet for a while, although Scully was beginning to get impatient. Finally, her patience exhausted, she cleared her throat and dived in. "Okay, Mulder, talk." His head jerked up as if he were noticing her presence for the first time. He centered on her with an effort. "All right, Scully, but I don't think you're going to like it." "What was all that crap about jet lag?" she demanded heatedly. "Nobody gets jet lag from a one hour flight in the same time zone. What the hell was wrong with you in there?" Yawning, he rubbed his face with his hands, then sat back. "I think it was trying to communicate with me. Well, actually, I *know* it was trying to communicate with me. The first time, when it was still across the room I was aware of - images mostly, and colors and odors and tastes, all of them strange, and so sharp and clear they were almost painful. The sensations definitely did not originate with me, they had to be coming from the creature. The images made no sense, as far as I could tell. Anyway, I guess I got overloaded by all the stimuli or something, because after a few seconds, it became intolerable and I felt like I was going to pass out." "Which you nearly did. You took a hell of a chance letting that thing get close to you," Scully said with annoyance. He was always rushing headlong into things, putting himself into dangerous situations. "Not really, Scully. I think it was pretty obvious that it didn't mean any harm," Mulder protested. "Obvious to you, maybe. But it could have hurt you without meaning to. And don't forget that we have no idea what kind of foreign bacteria and viruses this thing might carry." He shrugged. "It was worth the risk. When it got close and touched me, I was again sure that there was communication taking place. But, there was something different. It seemed like I was communicating with a different being. The images I was getting were much less intense, more controlled. How can I explain it?" He grimaced in frustration for a second, then said, "Kind of like looking at two completely different handwriting samples, or pictures by two different artists. The feeling I got the first time was totally different the second time. It was still images, sensations - totally nonverbal. But the images were toned down, more coherent, more understandable." "So what did you get from them?" she asked, curious despite herself. Sheepishly, he looked up at her. "Uh - this is the part you're probably not going to like." She smiled sweetly. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. I haven't been crazy about any of it so far." "Just remember that you asked for it," he warned, then he sighed. "I got an impression of another place, not of this world, but not of any other world either. A kind of... maybe a... I don't know, maybe a parallel reality? I can't really pin it down any better than that. I had visions of impending bloodshed, lots of it - that came through loud and clear. And also a kind of Manichaean Good versus Evil thing, with the smart money on Evil." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, Scully, I don't know why I'm so tired, but I feel wiped out. Mind if I...." "Help yourself," she replied. Mulder got up, walked over to one of the beds, stretched out on it and almost groaned in relief. Scully observed him for a moment and then said, "Have you given any thought to the idea that maybe all this communicating isn't exactly healthy for you?" "No.... Scully, wait. You have to hear the rest." He was fighting a losing battle against the sleepiness which was rapidly becoming overwhelming. "See, the thing is, whatever I was communicating with, it... it sees us - you and me - as different... from the other people it's come across here. And Scully... it needs us... the Healer and the Magician...." He trailed off as sleep finally overcame him. "Yeah, right Mulder." Scully took the extra blanket from the shelf in her closet. She removed his shoes, then carefully covered him, restraining her impulse to ruffle his hair. He could drive her to distraction sometimes with his almost child- like recklessness and gullibility. She turned on the radio to the local NPR station, keeping the volume low, and cleared away the remains of lunch. Then she unpacked her things, and crossing through to his room, unpacked for him. Finally she sat and started the field reports, to the accompaniment of Brahm's First Symphony and her partner's soft snores. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Mulder...Mulder, it's six thirty." Scully was sitting on the edge of the bed, neatly dressed in her favorite blue suit, her bright auburn hair still damp from her shower. She reached out and brushed the dark bangs of his forehead. He awakened instantly, as he usually did, although it took a few more seconds for his brain to actually function. He sat up, blinked and surveyed his surroundings. "The hotel," he said, with a hint of question in his tone. "Yes. Mulder, are you all right? You seem kind of disoriented." Concerned, Scully leaned over and looked into his eyes, checking his pupils. "I'm fine. I guess I just didn't take much notice when we checked in. Stay for a minute, I want to finish what I was telling you about, before we go back to the lab." He pulled himself up to a semi-seated position. "I have to tell you," she answered. "I'm very uneasy about all this. There's too much of an 'Alice in Wonderland' feel to it. I'm not sure I want to look for an explanation of all of this." Scully met his eyes directly, not holding back the uncertainty she felt. Her partner nodded. "I think that when the explanation comes, it will be the least bizarre aspect of the whole case. Right now you have to hear me out and we have some decisions to make, because I have a feeling our time is limited. Sooner or later, whoever took charge of the corpses of the other creatures will hear about the latest arrival, and will show up on the scene. I would prefer it if there were nothing for them to find." "You don't seriously think you're going to be able to hide that thing somewhere, do you?" "Hiding it wasn't what I had in mind." His eyes glittered, as the corners of his mouth edged upwards. "Mulder, should I start getting scared now, because I don't like that look in your eyes." She tilted her head sideways, watching him with slightly narrowed eyes. Just what was he up to? "Scully, believe me, I know how hard this sort of thing is for you, but just hear me out, and try to keep an open mind, okay?" He threw back the blanket and got out of bed. As he prowled around the room, he tried to find the words to explain. "I learned a lot from the second link with the creature. As I was telling you, there are two Realms in this parallel reality, or whatever it is. The visions of these Realms were so richly textured, it would probably take me days to mention every detail I saw. Some of the images were so beautiful they brought tears to my eyes, and some were so gruesome, so grotesque, so abhorrent that I was nauseated. I could sense time and everything else in a very different way. I don't know whether the Communicator helped me to interpret these images, or I did it on my own, or what; I suspect a bit of both. Anyway, the creature in the lab is a sort of assistant to the second being I communicated with. He's here by accident - it was the only place he could go. There is a kind of portal that exists between that reality and ours - that's how the creatures get here. So far, their use of the portal has either been experimental or accidental. I saw visions of how the other creatures had ended up here. The first three were experiments, unsuccessful ones, seeing as they were unable to get back to their own reality. They were trapped in the locked room and died. Our Type B was running for his life and dove through the portal seconds before he would have been killed." "Killed by what?" Scully shifted in her chair to get into a better position to follow his movements around the room. "By the Others - the beings that exist in the Other Realm. This is hard - I don't know what to call anything, because as I said, this was all nonverbal so I don't have names or labels. According to the Communicator, the Others are a bloodthirsty race, Evil incarnate. The forces of the Others are being gathered because soon there will be a war for control of both Realms. The Realm of the Communicator will surely lose, because its people are peaceful and have no experience with all- out war, not in living memory anyway. There is a prophecy however that speaks of two magicians who could join their powers together to defeat the Others. The Communicator is one of those magicians. He's been searching for Another." Mulder was silent for a few minutes, then sat on one of the beds, his hands together, steepled, his fingers resting on his upper lip. "We seem to have captured the Communicator's attention, Scully." "How? And why us?" Her tone was suspicious. "Evidently, the creature here can serve as a kind of conduit. The Communicator sees us through it. As to why us..." he turned to look at her with a half-apologetic smile. "It is apparently under the impression that we can help it out, an impression it received from our auras. It spotted you immediately as a healer of great ability, combined with warrior capabilities, something that's very unusual and powerful in its world." "And what's your aura, Mulder?" she asked with a tinge of amusement creeping into her expression. His smile turned more apologetic. "Uh - evidently, it feels that I may be the magician it's been looking for." Scully shook her head, incredulous. "You don't actually believe all this, do you? Please tell me you don't believe it, Mulder." His smile faded, and his jaw set in a stubborn line. "At this point, I don't believe or disbelieve. I don't know if it was telling the truth, but I know what I saw and felt and sensed." Scully stood up, obviously exasperated. "And of course you 'want to believe'. Mulder, hasn't that caused you enough trouble and grief? Aren't there enough people in the Bureau who think you're crazy? You are risking the status of the X-Files, Mulder - they could close us down again! And there's no way I'm filing a field report that reads like it's been written by J.R.R. Tolkien!" Mulder came to halt, turning to look down at her, his voice also raised. "What are the X-Files for, Scully? They're to record the truth, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional that truth might be. All I'm asking is that we go back and try to communicate with it again. That, and keep it out of the hands of the NSA or Cancer Man or whoever else may show up to try to take it." Scully took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to remember that what she most loved and respected about Mulder was also what made her the most crazy. "Okay.... How about we go to the lab, you communicate with it, and we'll worry about the rest later?" He nodded. "Okay, good enough." He hesitated, then said more softly, "I'm really not trying to be difficult, you know. I just - " "I know, Mulder - you just believe more passionately than is good for you, sometimes. You'd better go take a shower and change. You're a mess." She looked pointedly at him. He peered down at himself and grimaced. Sleeping in his suit had not done it any good, the expensive material was crumpled and wrinkled. Sighing, he stripped off the jacket and yanked at his tie as he hurried into her bathroom. About ten minutes later, his head peeked out the door. "Unh, Scully..." "Finish your shower," she answered laughing. "I'll get your clothes." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ They were at the lab about an hour later. Again, Professor Neumann answered their knock. His face was pinched and anxious as he said, "I'm glad you got here when you did. I just got a call from a friend that works at Lincoln Labs out at Hanscom Air Force Base. Some "recovery team" has been scrambled from there. She said they were headed our way. She doesn't know about our mutual friend in there, but I can think of only one thing such a team might be interested in." Mulder became very alert, very focused. "How long do we have?" "With luck, about thirty minutes. No more, probably less." The professor backed up and let them enter the room. "Okay," Mulder considered their options for a moment, his brow wrinkling in concentration. "Professor, if you and your colleague would please stay in the prep room and do everything you can to delay them. Get campus security to try to stop them, arrange a sit-in downstairs, anything you can think of. Just remember that the people directing this team are ruthless. Don't put yourself or anyone else in any danger. By the way, can you tell me what kind of experiments are carried out in this room?" "I can't get very specific - national security and all that." The professor shook his head. "Very generally speaking, we're doing some experiments involving the space-time continuum. I don't feel comfortable saying any more than that.... All right, we'll do everything we can to slow the recovery team down. As I said, I was here in '87." "Thank you." Mulder frowned, feeling his typical exasperation with government secrecy. "Scully, let's go." Neumann unlocked the door to the lab, took another look at the creature while they entered, then locked the door after them. Mulder walked about half-way to the creature and sat on the floor. The creature immediately came up to him, sat, and placed its hands on Mulder's palm and forehead again. This time they were motionless for at least fifteen minutes. The creature withdrew its hands, and Mulder looked up at Scully who was waiting across the room and called her over to them. His eyes were intense. "Okay, decision time. The Communicator, whose name is evidently Reinald, thinks he's figured out a way to get the creature back through the portal to its own reality. He would like the two of us to accompany it - he thinks that only by our intercession can his Realm - and possibly the entire parallel reality - be saved." Mulder paused for a moment. "I think we have to let the creature try to go back; it doesn't belong here and will probably be dissected inside of a week if it stays. The portal may not function, in which case all of this is moot. Or the portal may function improperly, in which case anything that goes through it may not arrive in the same condition it left here. The creature is willing to give it a try. I've been honest with it about what may happen if it stays here." He stared at her directly. "I'm willing to give it a try, too." "Mulder, you're not serious! You can't be serious about this." Scully looked from her partner to the creature, then back to Mulder again. But before he could respond, their attention was diverted by the sound of approaching sirens, squealing brakes, and shouted orders. "I'd like you to come with us, Scully." Mulder tried to ignore the noise, hoping he had time to convince her. "Reinald is convinced that the chances of success improve dramatically if you're involved. He said something about a...a prophecy." Scully looked at him wide-eyed, hardly believing what she was hearing. "Mulder, wake up. This is not a dream and you are not, I repeat, NOT a magician. We're not going, neither of us is going. If the creature wants to try a disappearing act, that's fine, but we - WE - are staying here." Desperately, Scully looked for anything she could use to bring him to his senses, even if it meant playing dirty. "Please, Mulder, you can't leave. Your work is here. And so am I." By now, there was the sound of booted feet in the hallway outside. Her eyes pleaded with him. Mulder bit his lip and nodded, bitter disappointment etched into his face. He looked at the creature, and they resumed their communication position for a minute. Then the creature dropped its hands and closed its eyes. They could hear sounds of shouting in the prep room. "Oh, God, I'm dizzy." Mulder's slender frame shook as he attempted to stand. "Quick, Scully, help me up. We have to move out of the way - the portal is going to op...." The recovery team from Hanscom kicked in the door to an empty lab. End Chapter One Chapter Two Tarnor woke slowly, his entire body aching from head- to-toe. His nose was pressed down into sweet smelling grass, his feet resting on a small tree root. Groaning, he slowly turned onto his back and blinked up at the canopy of bright green and yellow leaves over his head. Warm bright streams of sunlight filtered down, dancing through the whispering leaves and gently waving branches. "Oooh, what a horrible dream," he muttered to himself, stumbling to his feet as he scratched the terminally itchy spot behind his right ear. It had seemed so real... "******," a throaty female voice grumbled behind him in a totally unfamiliar language. Tarnor spun around, ears flicking upright in shock as he watched a small red-haired woman dressed in utterly foreign clothing pull herself to her feet. By the Gods, the nightmare hadn't been a dream! It had been real! The spot behind his ear began to itch even harder as memories flooded him. If the woman was with him, then what had happened to the foreign magician? "********!!!," an aggrieved male voice shouted from above Tarnor's head. Oh no, he thought with dismay, his nose twitching. The magician had somehow ended up in a tree. He was stretched out on a thick tree branch, long arms and legs twined around it. Tarnor and the woman both stood up to their full heights, her head and shoulders above him, but neither anywhere close to reaching the increasingly irritated man. Unfortunately, the tree he was suspended from was a large ancient oak with a several foot wide trunk and no branches close enough to the ground to enable one of them to climb up or for him to easily climb down. Utterly confused as to why the Mage didn't simply levitate himself down, Tarnor watched in amazement as the two strangers started to converse loudly - or was it argue - in their strange, dissonant speech. The woman seemed to be somewhat amused with the predicament her companion was in, her thin human lips baring white even teeth in a grin. The man still clinging to the tree-limb frowned down at her, his strong human features settling into carved stone, his green-brown eyes turning a stormy black. His fiery aura blazed around him, swirling blue fire so bright that it made Tarnor's eyes ache just looking in his direction. Tarnor found himself shuddering with fear, slowly backing away. The woman must be either extraordinarily brave or truly foolhardy. One did not have fun at the expense of such a powerful sorcerer and walk away unharmed. Even Reinald, who was a truly white magician, had a deep sense of his own authority. One young mage-apprentice who had pulled a practical joke on his seemingly-pleasant master had quickly found himself pulling wagons in the shape of a donkey for two weeks. And that was mild. Tarnor had grown up on horror stories about what less merciful sorcerers did to people who angered them. Already he could sense the tension growing in the air. The sunlight fled as a menacing cloud slowly formed above their heads. The trees themselves seemed to pull back, the leaves twitching in the sudden calm. The air felt heavy and charged. The woman waved up at the stranded man, bending her head back and laughing. The moment her first peel of laugher echoed in the air the storm broke, a lightning bolt flashing from the boiling cloud lancing down to hit the ground a few inches from her feet. She screamed and jumped backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground as the sky opened and dumped a flood of rain directly on her head. The storm lasted for a only few brief seconds, but was still enough to leave her totally drenched. Once the deluge was over, Tarnor peeked out around the tree he had taken shelter under during the short downpour. Somewhat wet himself, but definitely in a better mood, the magician was laughing down at the woman who was sitting dejectedly in a large puddle, her bright hair plastered to her head, her dark-blue clothing soaked limp and mud-splattered. Given the way her aura was glowing a bright fighter's green, Tarnor was grateful not to be getting the benefit of her furious glare. "*************************," she said in an icy voice, her eyes stinging the still-giggling mage, who stopped laughing and grimaced in response. Then staring down at the ground about twice his height below him, he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he swung his legs around so that he was sitting on the branch with his feet dangling off the same side. Holding on with his hands, he swung himself backwards until he was hanging from his knees. To Tarnor's utter astonishment, he dropped his knees and spun around the branch, suddenly releasing himself and somersaulting to the ground, landing on his feet, knees bending down, hands swinging behind him to pick up some of the shock of the landing. Tarnor edged closer to the woman, his feet squishing in the mud, as the Mage walked closer to her from the opposite direction. Tarnor stood motionless behind her, watching anxiously as the tall man extended a hand down to the still-sitting woman. She ignored the hand for a long tense moment, then gave a deep sigh of resignation and took it, accepting his help to regain her feet. Even fully standing, her head only reached top of his chest, and the fact that the odd spikes on the bottom of her shoes were sunk deep into the ground didn't help. But from the warmth in the Mage's eyes as he helped her out of the mud suggested that the worst was over for the moment. Still, Tarnor was terribly confused and frightened. They were miles from safety, with minions of the dark ones spread throughout the woods, and he could hardly communicate with this extraordinary couple. If all that weren't enough, it was becoming slowly evident that this was a totally untrained talent. How anyone could have survived to adulthood with so much power, but with absolutely no training was beyond Tarnor's comprehension. But it had to be so, because otherwise, surely, the Mage would at least have sense enough to shield himself. Or was he so arrogant in his power that he thought nothing could harm him? Tarnor could only be sure that he didn't like either possibility. Getting these two safely to Fairwoods Castle was not going to be fun. ~ ~ ~ Dana Scully trudged along behind the strange, gray creature, her feet aching. She wasn't sure why she was following the odd-looking whatever-it-was, but Mulder had insisted, and she had nothing better to do but go along until she woke up. This was just an unusually vivid hallucination, she told herself again, even as she stumbled over a large tree root and nearly fell down. The gargoyle thing was at her side immediately, offering her a helping hand, which was more than she could say for Mulder who was rambling along behind them, studying everything he passed with great interest. He actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Back on her not too steady feet, Dana nodded thanks to the creature which bobbed his large head and spoke musically in an unfamiliar language. I ought to get this dream analyzed, Scully thought, my subconscious must be working overtime. But dream or not, she wanted out as quickly as possible. It was simply no fun being wet, dirty, and exhausted - dream or reality. She took a few more steps, then spotted a large boulder under a big leafy tree. Sighing with relief she turned towards it. She settled down onto the cool stone gratefully, pulling off her formerly navy blue pumps and eying them with annoyance. They had been her best pair of shoes, but now they were ruined. This had better be a dream, because otherwise she was really going to be mad. In the meantime, those heels had to go. Practical enough on tiled floors and concrete, they were functionally hopeless on dirt, grass, and tree roots. Closing her eyes in pain, she banged the shoes against the rock she was sitting on until the heels came off. Just as she was about to put the now-flat shoes back on her sore feet, she felt, more than saw, Mulder perch himself on the rock beside her. "You okay, Scully?" he asked, his bright eyes wide with concern. "No, Mulder," she said patiently, like an adult talking to a young child. "My new shoes are ruined, as is my favorite suit. I'm still wet, my hair is a mess, and my feet are killing me. I'm hungry, lost in the middle of a nightmare and I can't wake up. I am most certainly not okay." "I'm sorry, Scully," Mulder replied. "It's all my fault. If I hadn't passed out on you, we might have been able to get out of the room before the Vortex formed. You shouldn't be here." He gave her a dejected look. "I'm not convinced we're out of the room - or if we are, we're in a government lab somewhere getting pumped full of hallucinatory drugs. This has got to be a hallucination." She gestured expressively. "I'm just dreaming and I'll wake up soon." "Scully!" Mulder's voice rose in frustration. "This is hardly a hallucination. It's real." He banged hard on the rock. "How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes, your own senses?" "Very easily," she said, giving him an annoyed look and standing up abruptly. "And as far as I'm concerned you're just another figment of my imagination. But since I seem to be stuck in this for a while, we might as well get going to wherever it is we're going. Maybe I can at least dream myself up a shower and change of clothes, food and a clean bed." She stalked away, her back straight, head held high. Mulder shook his head and eased himself off the rock to follow her. Their 'guide' started off again, looking back at them every so often to make sure that they were following close enough behind it. ~ ~ ~ The forest seemed endless. They wandered for hours, the grey-skinned creature always in the lead, stopping and waiting impatiently for them every time they fell behind, leaping on ahead when they caught up. He kept up a fast pace, his ears twitching as he rolled along though the heavy underbrush. The sunlight filtering down through the trees slowly began to wane, dusk turning what had seemed a bright, green, and warm place into a world of menacing shadows and twisted unfamiliar shapes. Scully was lagging again, finally tired enough to put aside her annoyance and accept Mulder's offer of his arm. She leaned against him gratefully, admitting - albeit only to herself - that she was having a hard time holding onto the belief that this was only a dream. Her eyes closed once in exhaustion and she stumbled, falling to her knees with a cry of dismay. "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, immediately bending down over her. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said, though her face was screwed tight in pain. She felt like she wanted to cry. Mulder helped her up, then led her over to the shelter of a large oak. At least most of the plants seemed basically the same as those on earth, he thought, as they sat down among the roots and leaves. The 'gargoyle' as Mulder had come to think of him, bounced over to stand looking down at them. His tiny eyes studied them with what Mulder would have sworn was a look of impatience. "I'm sorry, my friend," he said wearily. "But we've had it. We've got to rest for a while. This seems like a nice enough place to make camp." Mulder looked around at the trees and bushes, thinking that it actually seemed exactly like every other bit of the forest they had trekked through for the past several hours. The 'gargoyle' looked over his shoulder, then back at them. Then he gave a sneezy sigh and came towards them, squatting down to sit close to Mulder's outstretched legs. Mulder smiled at him, putting his arm around Scully's shoulder guiding her head down to rest against his chest. She immediately closed her eyes and snuggled against him, her breathing becoming slow and steady as she drifted off to sleep. Mulder and the 'gargoyle' sat staring at each other for a while. The creature seemed almost expectant, like he was waiting for Mulder to do something. Could they communicate? Mulder hadn't tried since they'd arrived in this world, mostly because he didn't want to faint again. But now, since they were taking a rest anyway, maybe he could give it a try. But perhaps, they could start with something simpler first. When he was certain the gargoyle was watching him, he pointed to himself and said, "Mul-der,"slowly and clearly pronouncing each syllable. Then he pointed to Scully and said, "Scul-lee." He then slowly pointed his finger towards the 'gargoyle,' who reacted instantly, pulling away and wrapping his hands around his face and cowering. Hmmm, Mulder thought, finger pointing must have a negative cultural significance. How could he do this without upsetting him? Mulder waited until the gargoyle peeked out through his arms, then offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He pressed the flat of his hand against his own chest and said again, "Mul-der." He pressed his hand against Scully's shoulder and repeated, "Scul-lee." The creature's head poked out from behind his arms, his ears beginning to twitch. Mulder again repeated the movements and words slowly. Then, ever so slowly, he moved his hand towards the gargoyle, keeping fingers together, and pressed against his chest. The gargoyle recoiled again, but not as much as before. Mulder again repeated his circuit, "Mulder..Scully...;" he touched the creature again. Ears twitching even harder, the gargoyle bobbed his head. Opening his mouth, he spoke softly. "Mmool-dor. Ssskallee. Taaarnoor." Mulder grinned brightly as the sounds were repeated, this time accompanied by a mimicking of his hand motions. The excited creature pointed at Mulder, "Mooldar..." He pointed at Scully, "Skaallee...' He pointed at himself, "Tarnor." Mulder nodded and excitedly repeated: "Mulder, Scully, Tarnor!" Tarnor bobbed his head again, and bared large pointed teeth in smile. "Tarnor!" ~ ~ ~ Raising its long nose into the wind, the large wolf-like creature drew back its red lips, baring long jagged fangs dripping with saliva. The droplets sizzled as they hit the grass below, burning the green foliage to black cinders. Eyes burning yellow, ears laid back against its black-furred head, it sniffed again, then let loose a horrific keening howl that was soon answered in kind by several others. It leaped up onto its powerful hind legs, which ended in three-inch long claws, and raced deeper into the forest, joining up with one, then another, then yet another sleek dark form. ~ ~ ~ Tarnor shivered in fear as his sensitive ears responded to the howls whistling in the wind. His entire body tensed as he recognized the sound. Soul-eaters! Several of them by the sound of it. Ignoring Mulder's startled reaction, the small gray gargoyle jumped to his feet and spun around, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. This was why it had pushed them so hard to try to get to the safety of a village or settlement before darkfall. It hadn't been particularly frightened of the more intelligent creatures of the dark - the force of Mulder's aura and the purity of the power that flowed like clear spring water from every pore of the alien magician's body would be enough to frighten them away. The hunters and destroyers might watch and wait in the shadows, but they would never dare attack such magical strength. However, the soul-eaters were simple animals, driven solely by instinct. Mulder's wild, unshielded magic would smell like a rich source of food to them. Over the last few years, they had killed several newborn Mages throughout the Realm. Tarnor shuddered, he had once seen the result of the attack of a pack of the soul-eaters on a small farm. Reinald had sent Tarnor to offer help and protection for the Mage-gifted baby and its family, but he had arrived hours too late. There had been a large, empty crater where house and barn had once existed. Dying, the child had resisted the soul-eaters drain on her magic just long enough to blast them, herself, and her entire family into eternity. Another series of wrenching howls split the air, and this time Mulder's human ears could hear them too. He shook Scully gently as he rose swiftly to his feet. "Tarnor?" he questioned, fear beginning to trickle its way down his spine. "What was that?" He shook his head in frustration. Tarnor couldn't understand him, and he couldn't take the chance on the exhausting mental communication if danger threatened. If only there was a better way to communicate. "What...Mulder?" Scully murmured wearily, brushing a tangled knot of auburn hair out of her eyes. "I think we've got trouble," he replied, feeling for the security of his gun. She rubbed her sleep-filled eyes with the back of her hand, then came to sudden awareness as the keening wails grew louder in intensity. "Mulder, what was that?" "I don't know, but I don't like the sound of it, and neither does Tarnor." Mulder pointed to the little gargoyle who was standing nearby, stretched to his full - small - height with a large silver dagger clasped tightly in his right hand. "Tarnor?" Scully asked, glancing from her tall partner to the small creature and back again. "That's his name," Mulder replied. "We were able to exchange names while you were sleeping, but it looks there won't be time for anything more." Tarnor was moving again, waving at them to follow him as he pushed his way deeper into the heavy underbrush. Mulder and Scully eyed each other for a moment, but another high-pitched howl behind them sent them into rapid motion. Tarnor led them in a wild dash through the tangled woods, feeling his way almost by instinct. Scully was able to follow reasonably well, her small size helpful, although she often found herself falling, scrambling to her feet, and rushing forward only to fall again. The tender skin of her face, hands and arms became scratched and bruised by tree limbs, branches and thorns. One shoe got wedged in a tree-root, and she didn't even bother to try to dislodge it, she simply pulled her foot out of it and ran on. Behind her, Mulder was having an even harder time of it, his height becoming a serious liability as Tarnor led them through low-hanging branches and dense thickets of a thorny, ivy-like brush that grew in huge rambling clumps. Trying to force his lanky frame through one such hedge, he lost sight of both Scully and Tarnor. Before he could finish weeding his way through the tangled brush, a shriek rent the air. "Scully!" he screamed, struggling against a thorn- covered tangle that had penetrating far enough through his now- ragged silk shirt to abrade the flesh of his chest. He tugged at it violently, hardly noticing the pain as the thorns bit deep into his hand. "Scully!" "Mulder...Aaaaaah!" her voice faded off into a screech, that was accompanied by a deep, inhuman growl. "Scully!" he cried again in frustration, his shirt ripping as he was finally able to pull clear, emerging into a small, moonlit clearing. The scene that met his eyes in a that brief terrifying instant sent waves of shock, fear, and fury through his body. In the darkness of the forest night the yellow light of two bright moons filtered down through the leafy canopy to hit the ground in wavy striations. In one such patch of light, Tarnor was facing two large animals, with jagged fangs, glowing yellow eyes, and long wolf-like bodies. They circled him easily on their four legs, just out of range of the long, gleaming silver knife in his grasp. Back to back with Tarnor, Scully was balancing from shoed foot to bared foot, her clothes in rags, bright hair falling around her face in knotted tangles. Her blue eyes blazed defiantly out of her smudged face. She was holding a large broken tree limb in one hand and her spray-can of mace in the other. Facing her were two more of the creatures, one growling menacingly, the other whining as it pawed at its eyes. In that same instant that Mulder broke into the clearing, the two 'wolves' facing Tarnor attacked. His knife flashed in the dim light, accurately hitting one wolf dead in the eye. It yelped and fell, its weight tearing the knife hilt out of Tarnor's hand even as the other animal bit into his arm, lifing the small gargoyle up of the ground with a mighty twist of its large head and tossing it back to the ground. Tarnor's agonized scream as the bone of his forearm cracked broke Scully's concentration. As she reflexively turned her head to see what was happening behind her, the remaining unwounded beast struck out at her, knocking her to the ground with its front claws. Growling its triumph, it leapt over her, covering her body with its own. "No!" Mulder screamed, instinctively pulling out his gun and firing. The gun clicked repeatedly, but did not fire. "Damn it!" he cried, throwing the useless metal object to the ground and launching himself at the 'wolf' as its teeth dug through her clothes into the soft skin of her shoulder, its toxic saliva burning the skin of her neck. Mulder came down on top of the beast, tightening his arms around its neck, pressing his fingers into the hollow of its throat with all of his panicked strength. It responded by shaking itself, pulling back just enough to turn around and glare at its attacker. Enraged hazel eyes clashed with maddened yellow orbs, then the beast abandoned the woman pinned beneath it and rolled over onto man still clenched to its back. Then it shook itself free of him, somersaulting over onto its powerful hind legs, then pushing upwards to stand over him. The other two surviving 'wolves' swiftly joined it to form a circle around Mulder, pressing in on him with hunger in their glowing eyes. Mulder felt a sudden strange weakness over come in, much the same feeling he'd had after the psychic communications with Tarnor and Reinald back in the lab. A small detached part of his mind couldn't help thinking how far away that all seemed right now. "No, Mulder!!!!" Scully's voice barely penetrated the haze fogging his mind. It would be so easy to sleep now. So easy to just close his eyes.... "MULDER!!!!!" The insistent sound of her voice kept breaking the spell. "Scully?" He trembled in response to her demand, forcing his eyes to open. He was confronted by a pair of snarling beast-mouths full of huge pointed teeth and jagged fangs. The moisture from their mouths made his skin itch and burn. Backing slightly away, he again heard Scully crying his name over and over. Suddenly it was as though he could feel her pain and her fear. He could see the way he appeared to her eyes, feel the pain lancing through his/her shoulder, hear the beating of her heart and the choking sob of her breath. "No!" He wasn't even sure which of them had said it, but it didn't matter. He was abruptly angry. Calmly, icily, furious. The rage swept through his mind and body, pushing out all the fear and pain and uncertainty before it. The torpor was replaced by a flood of energy which raced down every nerve of his body, firing synapse after synapse, like an electric charge through a power line. Each sinew of his body trembled as it fed the current, pressure building in his veins until they felt like they would burst. The power increased, building within him until he felt like he was about to burst into flames, his body shaking with the need for release. Blue fire lanced across his skin, igniting the night in a firestorm of blinding blue light. The beasts let out horrific wails of terror, their attempts to flee failing as they went up in blazes of blue flame, burning into cinders in no more than a blink of an eye. Lightning bolts flashed from the sky, striking the ground in a pattern of electrical discharge, mixing clear white light with the deep blue fire that danced and twisted, twining around each thunderbolt as it struck from the sky. Huge black clouds occluded the moons, creating a deep blue fog that hovered and spread across the forest. Finally, a column of blue flame followed back up the path of a lightning strike, hitting the center of the cloud with a deafening bang. The ground shook slightly, then the heavens burst, sending a flood of water crashing down on top of three small forms laying still and trembling on the forest floor. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pain lanced through Reinald's head as he slowly came to awareness. His next sensation was that of cold hard stone pressed against his nose and mouth. Groaning slightly, he lifted his head, only to feel a violent rush of nausea overwhelm him. Closing his eyes, he only barely held it down, whispering the chant of a basic restoration spell. The magic response was sluggish, trickling through his veins in slow drops. But finally the roiling fever in his belly receded, as did the pounding behind his temples. He succeeded in pulling himself to a sitting position, running long fingers through his shock of white hair. His ornate, brightly colored robe was crumpled and dusty, stained with ash and splotches of ink. The room was quiet and dark, the chalked diagrams on the floor smudged and broken. How long had he been unconscious? Reinald's head jerked upright, his eyes coming to sharp focus as the memories returned: Tarnor lost through the Vortex, communication with a foreign intellect, the struggle to re- open the Vortex out of phase, the overwhelming backlash of energies through the link, followed by a deep black nothingness. Had the attempt succeeded? Had Tarnor and the foreigners made it through? Reinald needed answers, but he was hardly in shape to get up and walk, much less utilize his overextended magic. Resting his head in his hands, he sent up a silent prayer to the Goddess to protect both his friend and the strangers until he could recover enough of his strength to help them. Struggling to his feet, Reinald fought another wave of nausea, stumbling over to the old, red-satin chair in the corner. Sinking into its rich padded comfort, he sighed, then reached for the cold pot of tea resting on a carved wooden table. Pouring the cold liquid into a small silver cup, he lifted it to his lips and forced it down, grimacing at the taste. Normally, he could have warmed it with a thought, now it was difficult to even bring it to his lips. But the spell-enhanced tea went to work almost immediately, giving him a warm rush of energy. He quickly downed the cupful, then filled and drained it two more times. Finally, he felt some of his strength beginning to return. He could pull upon the power node resting deep in the caverns below the castle, but he had already put enough of a strain on it in the previous months, and felt that it would be better for him to handle this under his own power if at all possible. Feeling his muscles ache after the many candlemarks spent sleeping on the cold stone floor, Reinald got to his feet and weeded his way through the clutter to a high, blue velvet-covered pedestal. Placing both hands along the edges, he leaned over it for a few minutes, eyes closed, body swaying slightly as he concentrated. Swiftly removing the cloth, the prematurely white- haired magician stared down into the Oracle Cloud, using all of his weakened power to focus on the missing Tarnor. Where was his old friend? The soft white light in the large, perfectly spherical glass-like orb flashed, then faded. Slowly an image took shape. A small moonlit clearing in the great woods, into which burst a small gray figure brandishing a large silver knife. Stumbling after it came the slightly larger form of a human woman, her odd- looking clothes ripped and dirty, her face filled with anguish and uncertainty. As she turned to look behind her, four large shapes dove out of the trees in front of them. Reinald watched in horror as the battle commenced, gargoyle and woman fighting a losing battle against the four dark beasts. Reinald tensed himself, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the sides of the orb violently, trying to reach out with his remaining power to offer whatever help he could. Before he could even begin a man burst through out of the thickets and dived in on top of the animal assaulting the woman. As it turned to engage this new adversary, the man's aura suddenly blazed up in a blinding blue flash of color. Reinald gasped in shock, his eyes widening at such a display of unshielded power. The soul-eaters immediately abandoned Tarnor and the woman, circling in on the unfamiliar magician. In response to their attention, his aura began to fade, energy leeching into the dark hollow centers of the beasts as they hungrily devoured the Mage-energy. "No!" Reinald shouted, his voice ringing against the vaulted ceiling of his work-room. Again he tried to reach out with aid, but his strength was failing. He cried out in frustration, forced to stand by and watch as a much-needed possible ally was slowly destroyed. But abruptly the tide turned. Reinald felt his jaw drop as the woman's greenish-brown aura reached out to the blinking blue aura of the weakening Mage, steadying its color and enriching its tone. A mix of blue and green and brown swirled for a moment, then broke in bright blue flash that nearly blinded Reinald's magic-sensitive eyes. Shielding his face with his arm, Reinald sensed more than saw the growing Mage-storm, feeling every nerve in his body tingle in response to the intensity of the power being focused and released several long miles away. Bright blue light illuminated the entire chamber in a violent flash, then was gone. Reinald slowly lowered his protective arm and blinked as his eyes slowly readjusted to the dimmed light. When he could see clearly, he peered back down into the darkened Oracle Cloud, amazed to see three figures stirring on the water-lashed ground, large scorched area marking the spots where the soul-eaters had been consumed. For now, they had survived, though Reinald knew there were other dangers lurking in the miles of forest between the three and the safety of Fairwood Keep. There had to be a way of getting them here faster. If Reinald had his full strength, he could have easily constructed a Gate and brought them here instantly. But now that was out of the question. If only there were another way. Reinald recovered the Oracle Cloud and slowly wandered back to his favorite chair. Once seated he reached for a large, heavy book with an intricately-carved metal binding. Perhaps, there was another way. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fox Mulder was the first to awaken. Curling over onto his side, he cradled his aching head in his right arm. Ever so slowly he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as things slowly wavered into focus. "Scully!" he cried out, but his voice came out of chapped lips in a hoarse whisper. Pressing hands down into the thick deep soil, he struggled to his knees, then awkwardly scrambled over on all fours to his partner. She lay shivering in a fetal position, right hand wrapped tight around her bloody left shoulder. Her face was half-hidden by a knot of matted dark-red hair, her lips moving, but soundless, her breath coming in choking gasps. Mulder kneeled over her, brushing the hair out of her face with a gentle sweep of his hand. "Mulder," she gasped, rolling over to face him. "I'm okay, I think." She shuddered as she came to a sitting position, leaning gratefully against the warmth of his body. She pulled away the blackened edges of blue and white cloth from her wounds, grimacing in pain. Deftly, she examined the wounds, sighing with relief as she realized the beast's teeth had not done more than lacerate her skin, causing it to bleed profusely. Her biggest problem seemed to be a total lack of anything to bind the wound with. But Mulder was ahead of her, already stripping of his jacket. "Here, do what you can with this, I'm going to check on Tarnor." She nodded, taking the already ripped jacket from him with a smile of thanks. He squeezed her undamaged shoulder with his right hand briefly, glancing over at Tarnor who was already sitting up, clutching at his left arm which hung from the elbow at an impossible angle. His skin had turned from a lustrous gray to a dusty black and his ears lay flat and limp against his head. Mulder closed his eyes in sympathy, then opened them again, the irises turning as black as the dark-widened pupils. Brushing with annoyance at the bangs glued to his forehead with the back of his forearm, he stood up and went over to Tarnor, kneeling down beside him. Mulder gave the wounded gargoyle as reassuring a smile as he could, then he pulled the ragged already undone tie off his neck and peered around him, searching for a usable piece of wood. Finally he spotted a broken tree limb not far from his reach. Grabbing it, he turned back to Tarnor, only to be faced again with the communication problem. However, Tarnor seemed to understand what Mulder meant to do, and he bobbed his head, his ears perking up a couple of inches. "Okay, little guy. I'll try not to hurt you too much," Mulder spoke soothingly, hoping that at least the sound of his voice would let Tarnor know he didn't want to hurt him. Tarnor screwed his face up in a tight grimace, slowly extending the broken arm towards Mulder who rested the tie and branch on his knees and carefully reached out to touch Tarnor's arm. Working as quickly, yet gently as he could, he examined the wounds, relieved to find that though the gargoyle was bleeding, the teeth marks did not appear to be deep. The worst of the injury was the obviously broken bone, and once that was splinted, Tarnor ought to be all right for a while. He met Tarnor's eyes, then looked down at the arm, then back up into the gargoyle's tiny grey eyes. Tarnor's eyes blinked, then met Mulder's square arm, somehow managing to indicate understanding. "Well, better get it over with," Mulder said, even though he knew Tarnor wouldn't understand. He held the creature's arm as gently as he could, to avoid moving the splintered bone and causing Tarnor even more agony, and picked up the tree limb. Holding it against Tarnor's arm, with one hand, he firmly looped the thin strip of material that had once been a silk tie around it, splinting the arm. "Not bad, Mulder, for an amateur." Scully had finished binding her shoulder with strips of cloth torn from his ruined jacket. She sat down behind him and eyed Tarnor anxiously. "Though I suppose I'm as much an amateur in 'gargoyle' medicine as you are." Mulder couldn't help smiling at the mix of frustration and curiosity in her voice. At least it seemed she was finally accepting the reality of their situation, even though it was a reality he was beginning to dislike intensely. Mulder sat back on his heels and looked anxiously around him. The rain had finally stopped, thank goodness, but they were still lost in the middle of the deep forest, probably miles form any source of help, even if he'd had any idea of which direction to go. No chance that his cellular phone would work, Mulder thought grimly, eyeing the surrounding trees with distrust. There had actually been a time when he had liked forests, but right now he'd had more than enough of them for several lifetimes. Suddenly, his partner gave a choking gasp, her body convulsing. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to pull her into his embrace. "What's wrong?" "I...I don't know," she replied through gritted teeth. "I feel like my shoulder is burning from the inside." Mulder kept one hand around her waist as he probed at her shoulder with the other. A tight knot formed in his belly as he suddenly noticed the charring of both the cloth and the skin around the wounds. His hand crept up to his own neck, as a burning itch made itself known in spots along his throat and chin. Poison! The beasts' saliva must contain some kind of toxin. Since he was not feeling more than some surface discomfort, it must be necessary for the the poison to enter the bloodstream as it had in both Scully and Tarnor. Scully met his eyes, obviously coming to the same conclusion as he had. The fear and worry in her deep blue eyes made him feel sick. They didn't know for sure that the toxin was deadly, but it was a pretty safe bet, especially since they were probably miles away from any source of medical assistance. Mulder felt an intense but familiar sense of guilt wash over him. Why was he always the one who survived, while everyone he cared about was hurt or lost. He should be the one poisoned, not Scully, or even Tarnor. Mulder had come to like the funny little creature in the short time he'd known him. They'd barely had the chance to begin to communicate. It just wasn't fair.... Mulder sat in a dejected silence for a several long moments, wallowing in a pit of anguish, guilt and despair. Scully sat equally still, watching him, her mind churning, even as she felt herself begin to weaken as the poison spread. The odd thing was that she was more worried about him than she was about herself. He had already lost so much, losing her could destroy him. And that was if his own overblown guilt didn't do the job first. "Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to do you - or us - any good," she chided. "So get up off your sorry butt and do something!" "Just what am I supposed to do?" he asked. The sound of their voices was unnaturally loud among the muted rustling of the leaves and the pitter-patter of water dripping off the trees. 'Get help, you idiot!' she replied, her voice breaking off into a series of painful gasps, as another set of convulsions rocked her body. "Scully!" he cried, reaching out to take her back into his arms, stoking her head until the shaking subsided. He watched her, cradling her, as she slowly slipped into an uneven sleep. 'I have to get help. I will get help,' he whispered, wishing he had even the slightest idea how. But the power of his brilliant intellect was already focusing in on the problem at hand. Consider the situation, he told himself: you're lost, you have two seriously injured people, there appears to be no one around for miles, you have no physical means of communication over any distance, no transportation. If only... Of course! Mulder's head jerked upright, his eyes glittering with reflected moonlight. Maybe, just maybe he could reach the other person he'd talked with through Tarnor back in the lab. It would be difficult without Tarnor, Mulder didn't even know how to start, but if they'd been able to communicate through the Vortex, it ought to be easier when they were both in the same world. Though, that was assuming they were in the same world. But he didn't have any better ideas, so nothing was lost by trying this one. Mulder looked around him for a moment, then sighed and let go of Scully. He stretched himself out on the ground, his hands resting by his sides, then closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths. After a few moments of attempting to calm down, he gave up on the hopeless effort and simply tried to focus on calling out to that other mind. His photographic memory clicked into gear, supplying a detailed record of the sound and feel of that voice. A series of hazy images flashed against the back of his eyelids: a shock of white hair, chalk drawings on a gray-stone floor, a deep, musical voice, a large glowing round orb. "Please answer me, we need help. If anyone is there, we need help. Help me please, help me, help..." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Reinald's head snapped up as the heavy book slid out of his fingers and fell onto his feet with a bang. His head filled with the pleading cry for assistance that echoed loudly in his mind, he didn't even notice the pain. Impatiently kicking the huge tome aside, he focused completely on that voice, grabbing hold of it mentally, as he fought his way over to the Oracle Cloud, ignoring the crash of several bottles he accidentally knocked off of a nearby table. Pulling off the velvet covering, he placed his hands on either side of the glowing orb and threw his thoughts back down that link, feeling the other mind recoil in surprise at the unexpected contact. "I'm here!" he replied. "I can hear you." ~ ~ ~ Mulder's eyes flew open as a strong, clear voice spoke in his head, responding to his call for help. This wasn't like the faint link he'd had before, this was like having a microphone inserted into his skull. He could feel the other mind touching his, a sensation he couldn't even begin to describe, even to himself. He was assaulted by an intensity of sensations, each piling on top of the last, until he wasn't sure which of him/them was laying prone on the forest floor and which was standing with his hands tightly gripping a smooth clear ball. "Take it easy, it's okay," the voice in his mind soothed, the sound toning down in volume. "Tell me your situation," it continued, gently persuasive. "We're lost in the woods somewhere, I have no idea where. We were attacked by these wolf-like creatures." A picture of the beast with its slavering, fanged mouth and brutal eyes swam in front of his eyes, and with it came a sudden sense of recognition and a name, 'soul-eater.' Mulder shook his head briefly, then forced himself to continue, just barely beginning to get hold of this silent, but vivid form of communication. "The 'soul-eaters' attacked my friends, breaking Tarnor's arm and gouging Scully's shoulder. The wounds aren't too bad, but I think they've been poisoned." Reinald shook with anger and grief as those images flooded his mind. But Mulder was still mind-speaking in a panicked rush of words and images. "Those things surrounded me. I thought I was dying, but Scully kept calling me, so I tried to get away" Even his mindvoice trembled. "...I don't know exactly what happened next, but it felt like I was burning up inside. There was this flash of blue light, then I must have fainted. When I woke up the beasts were gone. But Scully and Tarnor are burning up. I don't know if there is a way to counteract the poison. They need a doctor immediately." The concept of a 'doctor' was accompanied by a series of almost frightening alien images. Reinald tried to grasp hold of the basics, and sighed with relief as he finally understood. Of course, he should have realized by context, a 'doctor' was a kind of Healer. "Yes, I understand," he mindspoke back along the wavering link. "The soul-eaters' poison can be treated by any good Healer, if it is gotten to before it reaches the brain. Our biggest problem is getting to you in time." "How long have we got?" Mulder asked, panic warring with hope. "Do you have any idea how much distance between us?" This thought was colored by a sense of amazement that they were talking at all. That emotion caused Reinald his own quick moment of surprise, but it was put aside for later. Reinald considered the question, his mind ranging along the link. "A couple of candlemarkss at the most, maybe less for Tarnor, because he's smaller. Unfortunately, you are about three days walk from here; one, maybe one and a half days by horse," he replied. His voice took on a deep note of regret as he added, "I wish we could set up a Gate." "Gate?" Mulder questioned, now the one struggling with an unfamiliar concept. "A magic portal between two locations. I know how to build one, but it usually takes two magicians, and a great deal of energy. I used up most of mine opening the vortex out of its natural phase, and I don't know what your energy level is. Destroying the soul-eaters must have drained you to some extent." Mulder frowned in concentration, trying to grasp the images that accompanied the words. Luckily he had an extremely vivid imagination, it leaped into the gaps, building bridges that might not be real, but would hold for the moment. "If we had a Gate, how long would it take us to get from here to there?" "No time at all - it would be instantaneous," Reinald answered, his face settling into mirror-image of Mulder's frown, deep-etched grooves wrinkling the skin around his eyes. He had had too much to frown about in the past year. Mulder nodded. "Okay, then show me how to make this Gate thing." "It's not that easy," Reinald protested. "It takes years to learn just the basic theory." "We don't have time for that, now," Mulder insisted with calm determination. If this was what it took to save Scully, then he was going to do it. "Just show me how it's done." Reinald thought furiously for a moment, his mind going in circles. The other Mage's grim certainty pricked at the edge of his mind like a sharp sword's edge. Fully trained magicians had died in the backlash of badly constructed gates, but on the other hand, all three were certainly dead if they didn't try. The long- distance transportation spell he'd been searching for might be strong enough to bring through the small gargoyle, but definitely not the two humans. And there was no certainty that it could bring anyone through alive. He took a deep breath and gritted his jaw. He could not stand by and let them die. There was no other option, he decided, sending a wave of acceptance down the link. "This is not going to be easy. It will take perfect concentration, and you must NOT let go of your end. Do not let anything interfere, or we're both dead." Mulder swallowed nervously, doubt beginning to curl its way into the pit of his stomach. One quick glance at Scully's pale face tightened his resolve, and he sent the mental equivalent of a nod down the link. "I understand." "All right," Reinald said, adjusting his position above the globe. He closed his eyes and began to send a flood of images down the link, letting his last memory of building a Gate wave over them both. Mulder pushed up into a standing position, his hazel eyes focused inward as he absorbed every detail, using his eidetic memory to lock them into place. Finally the deluge slowed to a crawl, then sputtered to a stop. "Do you understand?" Reinald's mindvoice was tinged with mixture of worry and determination. "I...I think so," Mulder answered, not in the least certain that he understood anything at all. Reinald paused for a brief moment, to find his center and take another deep breath. "I'll start, be ready." "I'll be ready." Mulder mindspoke firmly. For Scully, he thought grimly. He would make this work for Scully. Even braced as he was for it, the sudden blast of power was overwhelming. Mulder sank to the ground under the weight of it, grappling for control. White and blue flames swirled around his body, running up and down the lengths of his arms and legs, sparks flying from his finger tips, as he fought to wrap his mind around the wayward energy. It was too much, he thought with panic, he was going to fail, and Scully would die because of his failure. Grief and anger washed over him, propelling him to reach just a little deeper into mental reserves he had never known he possessed. Straining until the blue of his veins stood out in sharp relief under his pale skin, until his brain felt like it would burst out of his skull, Mulder finally was able to seize onto the power. It was like a door opening in his mind, suddenly he just knew how to manipulate the power. Under his wavering, but increasingly determined control, the power surged and tightened, forming into a blazing column of light surrounding his quaking body. Relief bringing the sting of tears to his eyes, he pulled himself to his feet, his mind holding onto the stream of magical energy like a drowning man hanging onto a floating tree limb. Once on his feet, he simply held it for a while, sensing the wildness of the magic begin to calm into an steady, even flow of bright light. He held out his hands and watched the blue and white flames shimmer up and down his arms, amazed that he felt nothing more than an intense warm glow, much like the sun on a hot summer day. Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him, as he couldn't help wondering what Skinner would say if he could see this. But time was short. In the shimmer of the magic, he could see Scully's skin turning a splotchy, angry red. Choking off his laughter, Mulder took a deep breath and reviewed Reinald's instructions. He needed to 'ground' it. That idea was accompanied by an image of the magic light burrowing into the earth. Okay, he thought, I ought to be able to do that. Closing his eyes, he tightened his mental hold on the power and relived that image. Down, down, into the earth he pushed the light, pressing with all his strength. The magic shivered and circled around him, resisting the push, but finally acceding to his will. Streams of blue fire merged into the soil, sending up sparks as it hit the ground, then weaved its way downward, disappearing below the surface. Mulder pushed for what seemed an eternity, until he gasped for breath in a whistling rush, his lungs fighting for the air he had unknowingly been denying them. The magic column shivered, and nearly flew backwards, but as Mulder drew sweet air into his lungs, he gave it one final mental push and it held. He took a couple more breaths, then checked it again. To his surprise it was still and quiet, anchored deep in the ground. He gave it one more downward twist, then relaxed, sliding down into the cool, wet forest floor in near- exhaustion. Long moments slid by as he fought to remain conscious. Bending his head down between his knees, he heaved violently, his empty stomach convulsing. A few drops of stomach acid dripped from his mouth, and he spat them away in disgust. At this point, the pain was almost a comfort because it kept him awake. There was too much left to do. He hadn't come this far to fail now. Battling against a wave of dizziness, he somehow got back to his feet. He paused there for a moment, then pulling on the last vestiges of his strength, buoyed only by an intense stubborn determination, he again reached out for the power. Seizing a current, he tossed it a few feet, his mind flowing with it as it hit the ground. Again, he pushed it downwards, surprised to find the anchoring to be easier this time. Just one more push and a wrenching twist, and it was done. Mulder stepped back and studied the flaming arch with widened eyes. Voracious gusts of wind, disturbed by the presence of the Mage-energy, whipped at his body, tore at his dark hair and ragged clothes, sent sparks of light flying from the shimmering half-circle. But again, as bone-achingly tired as he was, there was yet more to do. Stepping into the center of the arch, Mulder reached for the now-familiar mindlink, gasping in relief as he felt approval and reassurance flow into his nearly- drained mind. ~ ~ ~ "Good, good," Reinald felt a silly grin growing on his face. He had had some chilling moments as he could only watch and pray that the young, untrained talent could keep his control. But somehow the young Mage had, and there was only one last step to take. "Send it to me!" he commanded, bracing his feet on the floor as he felt Mulder's mind begin to focus in response. A blast of white fire hit him, and Reinald staggered under its weight for a brief moment, before he bent it to his will. Straining, his still-weakened body screaming in protest, he bent the stream of power, twining into the original blue flame that he had created earlier, arching the magical braid into a perfect semi- circle. Then with a practiced mental twist, he grounded it into the stone floor, creating a mirror image to the arch facing Mulder in the far distant woods. ~ ~ ~ Mulder gave in to the tears as he watched the center of the arch begin to cloud up. The air itself seemed to bend and ripple, finally forming into a a shimmering curtain through which he could see a large, cluttered room with huge stained glass windows, vaulted ceilings, and walls lined with books. Until this very moment, a small part of him had not believed this was possible, but there it was right in front of his blinking, streaming eyes. He rubbed at his eyes with a dirt-encrusted hand, spreading streaks of mud across his cheeks, even as a smile broke its way onto his face. Through the 'curtain' he could see a tall, middle-aged man with a bright shock of white hair and weary, heavily-lined face staring at him with an expression of amazed relief. They stared at each other for a moment, then the white- haired man moved quickly through the portal and grabbed onto Mulder as his legs finally gave way. "Easy, easy," Reinald said gently, putting his arm under Mulder's to hold him up. "You did even better than I'd hoped. Let's get you into the castle." "No, no," Mulder protested weakly. He turned to look behind him at the two unconscious forms on the ground. "Scully...and Tarnor. Help them. Must help them." his voice was barely audible. "I will," Reinald reassured him, half-dragging him towards the shining Gate. "You go through first, then I'll get the others." "No," Mulder pulled himself free of the other's grasp and stumbled, wavering like a drunk, towards Scully's prone body. Obviously, during his precoccupation with the Gate she had remained unconsciousness. Perhaps that was for the best he thought, wearily, falling to his knees beside her. He reached out to take her into his arms, relieved to feel her stir against him. Then, with no conscious comprehension of anything except the need to bring her to safety, he managed to draw her limp, unresisting body over his shoulder and stagger to his feet. Reinald ran to help him, but Mulder nodded him away, angling his head towards Tarnor, not wanting to waste a single breath on speech. Reinald studied him for a brief moment, but noting the glitter of determination in those burning diamond eyes, accepted Mulder's decision and went to pick up Tarnor. Step by weary step, both men carried their precious burdens through the Gate. End Chapter Two Chapter Three The young brown-haired human, clothed in a Mage Apprentice's blue and grey, stood protectively in front of the thick oak doors. "You can't go in there!" he insisted, yet again. "Something's gone wrong. What if the Dark Lords have attacked, or what if Reinald has let some dangerous creature in, or opened a Gate to The Goddess knows where. We have to protect the Prince..." The small round man continued to babble, his protruding belly jiggling with every expansive motion of his bejeweled hands. Behind him the Royal Guard Captain snorted. It wasn't like Drellor was going to lead the charge. It was a standing castle joke that the Prince's uncle couldn't even lace his own boots without help. He'd make a lot of noise and make sure he was nearby to claim any glory, but he'd never put one fat finger in jeopardy. Right now Drellor was probably dreaming about replacing Reinald as Regent. Captain Jourdain frowned deeply. Unfortunately, the scheming fool might be right this time. Much as Jourdain respected the Regent/Mage, it was beginning to appear that Reinald had finally gotten in over his head. First he had shut himself in his workroom, barring the door, followed by a series of loud explosions and a horrendous thunderstorm. Then there had been silence for most of the day, with no sight or sound from Reinald. And now all evidence pointed to the creation of a Gate here. In the castle itself, against all the rules. And a very unsteady Gate from the amount of backlash every magic-sensitive person in the area was feeling. Jourdain did not like the situation at all. Finally fed up with Drellor's ridiculous posturing, the big, muscled Captain pushed the little man aside and strode up to look down at Reinald's newest apprentice. "Look here, Grejor. I know Reinald told you not to let anyone in, and normally you couldn't make me disturb a working magician for all the gold in the Realm. But something is wrong here, and I have to find out what before it becomes a serious threat to the Prince. You are going to have to let us in." Before Grejor could respond, there was a loud creaking noise and the door slowly began to swing inwards. Drellor let out a squeak of alarm and scurried back behind two of the armed guards. Grejor moved over beside the Captain, only the darting of his eyes and the sweat beading up on his lower lip betraying his uncertainty and fear. The wave of relief was nearly audible as Reinald peeked his white-haired head out the door. Barely noticing the soldiers, his eyes fastened on the slender brown form of his apprentice. "There you are, Grejor. Good. We've got some company and they need medical assistance immediately. Better go get Healer Corvay." Grejor and Jourdain just gaped at Reinald. His hair stood on end and his normally immaculate robe was covered in filth. Reinald ignored the open-mouthed stares, chiding Grejor briskly. "Move along there, young fellow. We need the Healer here now!" His voice rose on the last word, his eyes flashing in emphasis. Trained to follow his master's orders, Grejor jerked in response, blurting "Yes, Mage," as he fled down the hall. "Now look here, Reinald," Jourdain said to the magician's back, as he let go of the door and hurried back into the room. Jourdain caught the door before it shut fully in his face and pushed his way past it. Half-way across the threshold, he stopped short in his tracks, a look of utter amazement filling his blue eyes. The bright shimmering arch of a Gate filled the center of the room, opening into a small forest glade. Just this side of the Gate were three people, the small familiar figure of a gray gargoyle and two completely unfamiliar humans, dressed in the remnants of odd-looking garments. Both the gargoyle and one of the humans, a woman, were laying on the floor shivering with fever, their eyes glazed and skins flushed red. Leaning over the woman was a tall, slender man with disheveled dark hair and eyes of a color Jourdain couldn't quite identify. But what disturbed Jourdain the most was the sense of raw, uncontrolled power that surrounded him. "Ahhh, Captain, Good. I didn't notice you were there." Reinald finally looked up and saw the bulky soldier. "Better give me a hand here. You do know some basic healing spells don't you?" "I'm a soldier, Reinald, not a Healer. I can't do more that a simple stasis spell." Jourdain shut the door behind with a deliberate shove, noting with some pleasure that it slammed right into Drellor's big nose. "The two are not necessarily separate, Captain. But for now that will do. You take Tarnor and I'll see to Scully." Reinald hurried over to the two humans and began the simple chant. "That's only a prophecy, Reinald!" Jourdain protested, but another quick glance at the wounded gargoyle convinced him not to waste time. He went to kneel by Tarnor's side and joined Reinald in the chant, their two voices singing in syncopated round, punctuated by annoying knocks on the door. The spells took hold as a soft brown shimmer of light surrounded both Scully and Tarnor. Mulder watched the procedure anxiously, then as Reinald pulled away, he reached up to grab onto Reinald. "What happened? What did you do to her?" Jourdain listened in surprise as the strange man spoke rapidly in an utterly foreign language, heavy with hard consonants. To his further amazement, Reinald answered back fluently in the same language. "We put them into stasis until the Healer can get here. That will at least keep them from deteriorating further." "Stasis? You mean something like cryogenic freezing?" Mulder asked, trying to grasp the concepts without the aid of the psychic link. Reinald frowned. His language spell gave him basic fluency in their odd language, but those words didn't quite translate well. Something to do with intense cold, he shook his head. "I'm sorry..." Further explanations were interrupted by the near-breathless arrival of Grejor with the brown-clad form of the Healer in tow, Drellor following closely behind. Jourdain pushed past the Healer, grabbing Drellor by the front of his robe before the little fat man could open his mouth. Without a word, Jourdain shoved the gaudily-clad noble out the door and shut it in his face, knowing he might have to pay for the act later, but not minding in the least. Whatever revenge Drellor tried to exact would be a small price to pay for not having to listen to the mindless fool now. "What's this about, Reinald?" Healer Corvay asked as he crossed the room, the annoyed look dropping from his face as soon as he saw the two figures in stasis on the floor. "By the Goddess!" he swore, shoving Grejor aside to rush to his new patients. "What happened?" "Soul-eaters." Reinald said matter-of-factly. Even the seasoned warrior, Jourdain, shuddered at that thought. Those beasts were enough to frighten anyone. "How did they get away?" Corvay asked as he banished the stasis spells and reached out to touch Tarnor and Scully, writhing as their pain seeped into his body. "Mulder blasted them, but not before they bit Tarnor and Scully." Reinald responded. Mulder had been following the incomprehensible exchange closely, and he glanced up at the tall Mage in response to the sound of his name. "Just explaining what happened," Reinald soothed. "Corvay is an excellent Healer. If anyone can help them, he can." Mulder nodded, having no choice but to accept what Reinald said at face value. Suddenly the lost agent felt an overwhelming fondness for modern hospitals, even though he normally avoided them whenever possible. Right now he'd give his right arm for one. Corvay looked startled at the rapid exchange on the unfamiliar language, but he quickly focused back on his two patients. Closing his eyes, he stabilized their sleeping patterns, then reached with his mind, Tarnor first and then the woman, to find the nerves leading to their damaged extremities and closed them off to dull the pain. Then, he reached into Tarnor's bloodstream and began the slow process of targeting the poison for destruction, encouraging the gargoyle's own immune defenses to recognize the toxin as a foreign entity to be destroyed. Satisfied it was beginning to work, he then did the same for Scully, his mind pushing at the tiny living cells circulating in her blood, encouraging natural antibody production to speed up, helping more of the necessary cells to proliferate and migrate to the contaminated areas. As Corvay worked, lost in the minutiae of his patients bodies, Jourdain caught Reinald's attention with a series of angry questions. "What do you mean, 'Mulder' blasted them? And why did you build a Gate here? You know they're not allowed within the castle! What are you up to, Reinald?" "I didn't have any choice," the magician responded, giving the big soldier an annoyed glare. Jourdain took it calmly, giving as good as he got. Reinald sighed and perched himself on the edge of a table, and began to explain. "Tarnor was scouting for me in the woods, when he ran into a pack of Hunters and Destroyers. Left with no other choice, I told him to chance the Vortex." "You what!" Jourdain exclaimed. "He couldn't let them catch him, it would have been a certain, horrible death. Anyway, he got through the portal just fine." "Through to where?" Jourdain questioned with slightly narrowed eyes. "To an alternative Realm, and not The Dark Place, thank the Goddess. I still don't know much about the place he went to, the images I got were very confusing. But once the Dark Forces had cleared the area, I was able to reopen the Vortex to pull Tarnor back through..." Reinald paused, and glanced at Mulder, who instantly sensed the glance and looked up from Scully to stare at both men. Jourdain felt the glance, turned to look at Mulder, then back to Reinald. "And them...?" he prodded, none-too-gently. "Tarnor found them," Reinald responded. "The woman has the aura of both a healer and a soldier, mixed brown and green. The man is a magician of extraordinary strength. He may be stronger than I am." "The prophecy!" Jourdain drew a quick breath, and turned to stare at Mulder who glared back. "I think so," Reinald sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Unfortunately, opening the Vortex took all of my strength. I fell asleep for what must have been several hours. By the time I woke up and recovered enough strength to even look for them, they were under attack. Luckily, the Mage was able to destroy the soul-eaters before they drained him, but not quickly enough to stop the others from being hurt. He called for help, and together we were able to build the Gate to bring them here." Jourdain broke his staring contest with Mulder and angled his head back to Reinald. "I don't understand why soul- eaters would attack an adult Mage, they usually go after unshielded newborns. And how could he fail to know they were coming and shield himself." Reinald shook his head. "I don't understand it all myself, but I'm afraid Mulder *is* like a newborn Mage. He has absolutely no shield and no control. In fact, his powers may well be stronger than mine." "What?" Jourdain's skin bleached white. "No shield....no control...maybe stronger than YOU! How could that be? How could he survive? How could anyone around him survive?" "I don't know," Reinald replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Their world is so foreign to ours, I don't have enough information on it to answer that." "By the Gods!" Jourdain swore. "Can you keep him contained?" "I think so. He's pure, Jourdain. Of that I'm sure. His aura is clear and untainted." Jourdain shook his head. While he didn't doubt Reinald's assertions, he still was terribly frightened. Trained adult Mages were enough to make most people nervous; untrained children could frighten whole villages until they were taken in hand by an older Mage. To have one wandering around with absolutely no training but with a full adult's power, especially one potentially more gifted than the Royal Magician, was a nightmare. The entire court, Drellor in particular, was going to go into seizures when they found out. A sudden thought occurred to him, and it brought the edge of a grim smile to his lips. There was no reason why the court had to find out - at least not yet. No one outside of this room knew, and it had better stay that way. "Can you teach him?" he asked. "Yes, of course I can. It will be difficult, but he managed to help build the Gate on incredibly short notice. He's smart and extremely determined. He'll learn." "He'll have to. But we'll need to keep it quiet. I'll report that you're exchanging spells or something with a foreign magician who is visiting with his...unh..." "Wife." Reinald interrupted. Jourdain looked at him in shock. Mages never married, they rarely even formed close friendships. Reinald smiled. "They ARE foreign, remember. As surprising as it seems, I think they may even be life-bonded." "What!" Jourdain felt like the room was spinning. He'd had one shock to many in too short a period of time. His jaw felt like it was permanently agape. But he was a battle-experienced warrior, and he hadn't survived three wars - well, border-skirmishes - to fall apart now. Okay, so he was faced with a living breathing prophecy come true: a totally untrained adult alien Mage of extraordinary power, and one with a bondmate to boot. Well, why not? He grimaced and focused sharp blue eyes on both Reinald and the gaping Grejor. "Nothing of what you've told me leaves this room. They are simply visitors from some far-off land, with slightly odd customs, come to trade spells with you. Once you've got him under some control, we can decide how much more to let out. But nothing more for now. Is that understood?" Grejor just gave a barely perceptible nod. Reinald rubbed at his chin for a moment, considering, then agreed. "All right. But we have to tell the Prince the truth, and Scully will need weapons training. She should be a natural fighter, given her aura. Is there someone you can trust to teach her?" Jourdain thought for a moment, eyeing the still- unconscious woman on the floor with doubtful eyes. Then he nodded slowly. "Aldara can teach her. She's one of the best fighters I've ever seen, and she's about the same size." "Good!" Reinald replied. "Mulder and I can start tomorrow." Mulder again responded to the sound of his name, his eyes darkening with his increasing irritation at not being able to understand the conversation, except for his intuitive recognition that they were discussing him and Scully. At this mention of his name, he stood up and spoke bluntly to Reinald. "What's going on?" "I was just telling Jourdain," Reinald gestured towards the Captain, "what has happened. And we're discussing how to handle your presence here." "You're the one who asked us to come." Mulder's tone was belligerent, his eyes snapping. Reinald saw his aura, drained as it was, flare up, and reached out to soothe the angry Mage. "Yes I was, and I will explain everything to you. I just thought it might be better to explain to you and Scully at the same time." "Try explaining to me now," Mulder insisted, his face tightening in pain. "Scully is hardly going to be in any condition for explanations for a while." A sudden groan from the woman in question broke into the conversation, and Mulder instantly dropped to his knees beside her. "Scully?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her. Reinald watched in amazement, as Mulder's blue aura flew ahead of his hand, mixing with the faint green/brown of hers, feeding his life energy to her. In response her aura flared and strengthened, merging with the blue flame to produce a bright rainbow where they met. "Mulder..." Scully's eyes slowly opened to see his anxious face peering down at her. She smiled softly, happy to see him there and well. "What happened?" she asked. She tried to sit up, but her body was too exhausted to obey, and she slumped back down to the floor. "Hey, take it easy," Mulder warned, though his countenance lightened with his joy at seeing her improve. He didn't know what the Healer had done, but it certainly seemed to have worked. "You were hurt, remember?" "Where are we?" she questioned, staring arund her in amazement. "I found help," he replied succinctly, not wanting to try to explain now. "I'll explain later. Right now you need to rest." She nodded, exhausted, leaning against his arms and closing her eyes. As she slipped into an easy slumber, Mulder swept the hair out of her eyes and looked from Corvay to Reinald. "Tell him thank you," he whispered. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Mulder and Scully sat back in their chairs, sipping slowly at the odd-tasting potion Corvay had insisted they drink. Scully had been particular loathe to drink anything she didn't know, but Reinald had insisted. He'd even taken some of it himself, and was now sitting on a small stool in front of them, drinking from his cup and watching them with some amusement. Mulder looked over at his partner, shrugged and chugged down the rest of his drink. Actually it didn't taste too badly, rather like a very fruity wine, and it caused an immediate sensation of warmth to spread out from his throat and stomach. When Scully saw that it wasn't bothering Mulder too much, she gave in and took a deep swallow. Then she smiled and took another. "This is pretty good." "It's an excellent restorative," Reinald responded. He smiled. "And it has the added benefit of actually tasting good. Most of the healer's concoctions are enough to make anyone sick just from the taste." Mulder laughed, "It looks like there are some constants in life, no matter where you are." Scully threw him a dirty look, then turned back to Reinald. "I have so many questions. How did we get here, and where is here? What were those creatures that attacked us? And what exactly is Tarnor?" Reinald smiled warmly at them both. "All right, I'll try to start with the basics, but I cannot promise to have all the answers. There is a lot I don't know." "Fair enough," Mulder replied. "How you got here? Well, through something we call the Vortex, though what it actually is, we do not know. It reappears every so often in the same part of the forest at irregular intervals, and seems to be some kind of gateway between different worlds. Every so often, someone will disappear into it, or some strange creature will appear out of it. It seems to link several worlds together, including yours, mine, and the one from which our present problem comes. I took a huge risk sending Tarnor through, but it was his only hope." "What problem?" Scully asked. "The beasts who attacked you are only one small part of the terror that has been invading our world from that other realm. We think of it as the Dark Place, since everything that has come from it has been pure evil. Creatures have been attacking our people for close to two season-cycles, and every attempt to shut off the Vortex has failed. Forcing it open to allow you and Tarnor to come back through is the greatest success I have had with it, and I am not exactly sure I could do it again." "Wait a minute," Mulder interrupted, leaning forward in his chair. "What do you mean, you might not be able to do it again? Are you saying you may not be able to send us home?" "I..." Reinald gave them an apologetic look, "I'm just not sure. But you may be able to do it for yourself. Mulder, you've got as much magical ability as I do, maybe more." "I have no idea how to do anything, I almost made a disaster out of the Gate. How am I supposed to control the damned Vortex?" "Wait a minute," Scully interrupted. "I don't understand. What Gate? And Mulder's no magician. I know Mulder can't do anything like that." Reinald shook his head, this was not going very well. He thought for a moment, then tried again. "There must be some very serious differences between our two worlds. Let me tell you a little more about this one. Maybe that will help." Mulder and Scully gave him identical looks of skeptical disbelief, but they both sat back and let him continue. "You are presently in the castle of the King of Fairwood Domain. Unfortunately, the last King died leaving only his five- year old son as heir. The Prince is about 8 years old now, so as well as serving as Royal Magician, I am acting Regent until he turns 16 and comes legally of age. Besides Fairwood, there are two other Kingdoms in this part of the Realm. There are others across the waters, but except for some trading by ship, we don't communicate with them much. "Under the King, there is a collection of noble houses. Representatives of each serve on the council, as well as elected representatives of the major guilds and religions. Also, the three other races have voting seats on the council - Tarnor's people, the trolls, and the elves. The other races usually keep to themselves, and have their own leaders and homes usually separate from human settlements. All in all, we get along pretty well, we haven't had more than occasional border skirmishes in over thirty years. That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of political jockeying around here, the court is rife with it." Mulder and Scully nodded, so far they could follow this fine, and most of it had some familiarity to it. "Now, magic. Hmmm. There do appear to be major differences between our worlds in this respect. I don't quite understand it, but you, Mulder, have one of the strongest Mage auras I've ever seen. You may even be more powerful than I am, and yet you don't seem to know the slightest thing about using it or controlling it. Magically, you're like a newborn Mage, but you are an adult. How did you manage to grow up without training, or even learning to shield?" Mulder shook his head. "We don't seem to *have* magic in our world, like you do here. A few people have reported what we call 'extrasensory perception,' in that they can sometimes hear another's thoughts or sense things occurring at a distance. A very few may be able to bend a spoon. But that's all. And I've never demonstrated even those abilities. Except maybe for strong intuition, I don't have any talent - or at least I didn't until I got here." "That's amazing!" Reinald said, his eyes twinkling with interest. "A world without magic. It's incomprehensible." "The idea that 'magic' is real is incomprehensible to us. It's just a fantasy that writers spin to amuse people. It's not real." Scully broke in. "But I'm not sure I understand what you mean by 'magic.'" "You can think about magic as a kind of energy. It flows through all living things, and we think it may be tied to the basis of life itself, although that is hotly debated since inanimate objects can have magic also. Some people have more of that energy than others, some can see it better, and a few can even manipulate it. That's what defines a Mage, someone who has the talent to bend the Mage-energy to his will." Scully frowned. "And Mulder has the talent to manipulate this energy?" "Yes, exactly," Reinald answered. "Everyone is different in their sensitivity to it. I think..." he studied her gravely for a moment. "I think you have some slight ability yourself, though it is obvious from your aura that you are more of a Healer than a Mage, and much more a Warrior than a Healer." Mulder had been quiet for a while, trying to absorb the information, but he couldn't help responding to the last statement. "Now I could have told you that," he said with a smile. "Shut up, Mulder." she shot back, shooting him a daggered look, then turning back to Reinald. "I'm not sure I'm ever going to get all of this, but what exactly did you mean by our auras? Some people in our world say they can see them, but I've never really understood what they are supposed to be." "They are fields of energy that surrounds every living thing. I think you both can see them if you concentrate on it." Scully gave him an unconvinced stare, but Mulder was game to try. He peered at both Reinald and Scully, twisting his head side to side, squinting. Scully couldn't help letting out a giggle at the sight of him. "Mulder!" she protested lightly. "Hey, I think I got it!" he exclaimed, eyes brightening. "Reinald is all blue, and Scully...you're all green. Well, brown and green. But mostly green!" Reinald smiled at him approvingly, nodding. Scully looked at them both like they were crazy, then sat back in her chair and changed the subject. "How can you speak our language if you've never been to our world?" Reinald smiled proudly. "Through a new creation of mine - a language spell. This is the first chance I've had to try it out. I'm delighted with how well it works." "Can you make one for us to understand your language?" Mulder was fascinated. "Hmm, maybe. Mine is keyed to me, but it should be possible to duplicate it for you. With some training you ought to be able to do it for yourself." Reinald responded thoughtfully. "With training being the operative word," Mulder said with frustration. Scully couldn't help thinking that it might take more than that, but again she changed the subject, this time to something that had been bothering her throughout the conversation. "Magic aside, what about those creatures that attacked us in the woods? You said there were more of them?" she asked. Reinald frowned, his eyes darkening. "Yes, there have been a flood of them over the last two years. Somehow, they seem to have gained some control over the Vortex, enough to be sending through an increasing number of creatures. The beasts you fought with are probably the mildest of them." Both Scully and Mulder shuddered at that thought. Reinald nodded grimly. "So far they have been mostly randomly ambushing our people. Attacking the more isolated settlement, an occasional small village, but they're creeping in on us a little more every day. I'm afraid we're going to be hit by a full-scale invasion sometime soon." "When we 'communicated' through the Vortex, it seemed like you thought Scully and I could help," Mulder questioned. "Even if I do have some magical ability, I still don't see how much help just the two of us can give." "I'm not sure either," Reinald answered. "But you two do fit an old prophecy. When I saw the two of you through Tarnor, I was shocked. No one had really taken the old story seriously, and suddenly there you were." "What prophecy?" Scully asked. "An ancient one, much of which has been lost or garbled over the years. It's become a kind of myth. To summarize, the story says that when we are threatened by some great evil, a Healer-Warrior will lead us in battle while two magicians, one from this world and one from another, will unite to win the final confrontation, and banish the evil from this world forever. You see, Scully, your particular aura, with its combination of Healer brown and Warrior green is unique. It never happens. Those two talents are considered opposites. So when I saw it, so close to a strong Mage power, I suddenly realized that you two *had* to be the fulfillment of the prophecy." Scully and Mulder exchanged glances, neither one sure how to respond to this. It all seemed utterly unreal. Scully felt like she had been on a roller coaster for far too long. Even with the aid of the potion and Corvay's healing, she was still ready to collapse. Mulder was tired too, and even though his intense curiosity was running at full speed, one look at Scully's pale face was enough to convince him they'd had enough for tonight. "This is a lot for us to absorb," he said. "And we're both exhausted. Maybe we should call it a night, and get some sleep." Reinald gave him a sheepish look, and immediately apologized. "I'm so sorry. I should have known better than to keep you up for so long after all you've just been through. I'm exhausted myself." He stood up and went over by the fireplace, reaching up to yank on a cord hanging against the wall. "Lets get you settled into a room, so you can get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow we can get your training started." "Training," Both Mulder and Scully spoke at once. "Well, we can hardly have an untrained Mage wandering around. Mulder, you're leaking Mage energy like a pierced wineskin. If you don't learn control soon, you could cause a major disaster. In a way, your training is more to protect people from you than anything else. I've put a makeshift shield on you for now. It will hopefully hold until we teach you to do it yourself." Mulder grimaced and nodded. After his experiences in the forest, he wasn't about to argue about this. The last thing he wanted to do would be to accidentally blast some innocent person. "Okay, that explains Mulder's training, but what am I supposed to be learning?" Scully questioned. "Fighting skills, of course. You'll need to know how to handle a sword. I don't suppose you've ever done any sword- fighting before." "Sword-fighting, of course not!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening with surprise. "Why would I want to?" "In this case, it's for your protection. You've got a Warrior's aura, and the last thing we need is for you to get challenged before you know how to defend yourself. And with everything that's happening out there, we need every trained soldier we can get, prophecy aside. Jourdain has arranged for you to train with one of his best officers. Her name is Aldara, and she's about your size. I think you'll like her." A knock at the door caught Reinald's attention, and he left them to cross the room. As Reinald let a young human servant into the room and issued instructions in the musical language of the Realm, Mulder and Scully just stared at each other for a moment. Reaching out to tenderly sweep a bright red strand of hair off her cheek, Mulder softly asked her, "Are you all right?" She closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. "I'm okay, Mulder. Just tired, dirty, and feeling a little shell-shocked." He sighed wearily. "Me, too." ~ ~ ~ Speechless and numb from exhaustion, they followed the servant through the labyrinthine corridors and staircases of the castle. His arm was around her shoulder, hers around his waist as they trudged along stone corridors lit by torches which created eerie, flickering shadows. In spite of her fatigue, Scully's attention was drawn to the hangings which were displayed on the walls. At first glance, they were not unlike medieval tapestries she had seen in museums. Some were merely decorative while others seemed to illustrate a story; whether a fable or a tale from the history of the Realm, Scully wasn't sure. The richness of the colors and materials amazed her, but there was something else which caught her attention. The images in the wall hangings were three dimensional - almost like a woven hologram, if such a thing were possible. She stopped to examine the tapestry in wonder, fingering the fine material, then looked up at Mulder to speak, and hesitated. His heavy eyelids were drooping closed and he was swaying on his feet. Gently she nudged him and they once again forced themselves to drag their feet to follow the young human. After what seemed like miles, the servant finally stopped in front of a large wooden door and opened it. It swung silently on its hinges to reveal a large stone-walled room. Mulder and Scully entered and looked around them as the door clicked quietly closed behind them. The chamber was at least forty feet in length and twenty five feet wide. A huge stone hearth dominated the far wall to their right, and tall narrow windows punctuated the wall directly opposite from where they were standing. Between the windows stood bookcases filled with richly bound volumes while fine woven rugs dotted the stone floor, and tapestries similar to those in the corridors decorated the high stone walls of the room. A large copper tub stood in the far corner. Most of the furniture was wooden - a giant armoire, a refectory table and chairs, and numerous smaller tables and other items scattered around the room. Two comfortable looking upholstered armchairs were positioned by the hearth. Steam wafted from a kettle set near the fire, and nearby on a low table between the armchairs was a tray containing cups, a teapot and a small loaf. Illumination was provided by the fire in the hearth and by torches set into brackets at intervals along the walls. There was a door in the near wall to their left. Swathed in diaphanous hangings which were tied back for the moment, an enormous, high bed jutted from the same wall. "Sorry, Scully, I was sure I had reserved a double." Mulder peered down at her anxiously. She was dealing with so much right now. She didn't want to be here in the first place, yet it appeared she was going to be instrumental in helping this strange world fight for its existence, at the risk of her own. Everything around her, this world, this situation - all of this had to be an assault to her belief system, which was so rooted in the scientific, the explainable. He was concerned not only about her safety but also about how she was handling this threat to her most cherished and fundamental beliefs. To top it all off, she probably held him at least partially responsible for this entire situation. The last thing she needed right now was another complication, forcing an issue that she was not yet ready to face. "Uh, look - don't worry about it. I'll just curl up in one of those chairs by the fireplace, no problem. I don't sleep much, anyway," he said. "Don't be an idiot, Mulder," Scully said, not unkindly. "We may be here for a very long time - you can't sleep in the chair for weeks or months. Maybe you should have arranged to transport your couch through the Vortex." She smiled up at him. "Tonight, I'm too tired to care. Don't worry, we'll manage." He looked down at her and decided to broach the subject he had been avoiding since they entered the Realm. "Are you okay with all of this? I know you were angry with me and I probably deserve it, but Scully, I swear, I didn't mean for this to happen. Yes, I wanted to come here. Hell, the curiosity was killing me. But there's no way I would have tricked or forced you into coming against your will. I can't say I'm not glad you're here; I am. But I'd be happier if I knew you didn't hate my guts right now." His voice and expression were calm, but his eyes said it all. The guilt, that once again he had placed her in jeopardy; the fear, that their mutual trust had been shattered; the respect and caring he felt for her; all were there for her to see. Scully's expression was grave, her eyes shimmering. Between the exhaustion and the events of the day, she was close to tears. "I don't blame you for all this, Mulder. Well, I did at first, but when I really thought about it, I knew you wouldn't do this intentionally. But all this is so hard for me. I feel like I'm on a bad acid trip, or as if I were in a kind of mental freefall. I can't explain any of this." Her voice broke. "I feel lost." She took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled. "God, I'm so tired." Mulder put out a tentative hand and gently caressed her cheek. Softly he said, "Go sit by the fire. I'll make tea - or whatever it is." Scully flopped into the first chair she came to. "How do we know it's not toxic?" "Well, I guess we don't. That potion or whatever that Reinald gave us was okay. Anyway, we have to eat and drink sometime." Mulder removed the lid from the teapot and sniffed at the contents. He added water from the kettle, then replaced the lid. "I'll drink it first - if I don't keel over, then you can have some. Deal?" "No. We'll drink it together. I'll be damned if you're going to die and leave me here alone." He flashed her a grin. "That's the spirit, Scully." Mulder poured the fragrant brew into the thick earthenware cups and handed one to Scully before lowering himself into the other armchair with a sigh of relief. "Okay, Scully, if you can suspend your disbelief and just go with this for a minute - what do you think of Reinald and what he had to say?" "That's a big 'if,' Mulder. I don't know, I'm black and blue from pinching myself, so I know I'm awake. Well, barely. Do I believe you have the powers he says you do? No. You've got many talents, Mulder, but magic? I can't suspend my disbelief that much. I'm not happy that Reinald seems unsure whether or not he can get us back throught the Vortex." She shook her head. "I'm still not convinced all this isn't a dream, that I'll wake up and all this will be forgotten by lunchtime. How can this be possible, how can this place exist?" Mulder stretched his long legs out closer to the fire. "I've been thinking about that. Neumann was very coy, but he did say they had been doing experiments involving the space-time continuum. What if those experiments somehow caused whatever it is that divides our reality from this one to rupture? Reinald seemed to indicate that the Vortex just appeared one day, and comes and goes, independently of any factors from this reality. Wouldn't that correlate well with the intermittant nature of the MIT experiments? No one knows that much about time and space. It certainly wouldn't be the first time we were experimenting without an understanding of the powers that we were dealing with. You at least have to admit that it's a possibility, Scully." "Oh, I'll admit that much. Did you buy the stuff about the prophecy?" "Every culture has prophecies, and usually events occur which can be interpreted as fulfilling those prophecies. Although this prophecy is so specific... I don't know." He smiled at her. "Believe it or not, Scully, I don't just automatically subscribe to every weird belief that comes down the pike. I've got a doctorate in psychology and I've had lots of training in the scientific method. I just choose to believe that science, or what we know of science, doesn't go far enough sometimes. That there is a, I don't know, call it a higher science or higher wisdom, that can offer explanations that conventional science can't." "Do you think that you have magical powers? Come on, Mulder, be honest." Scully was regarding him with a slight smile. "Well, I wouldn't have thought so.... But I did help to construct the Gate that brought us here. Reinald gave the instructions, he told me what to do and how to do it. But Scully, some of that - whatever it was - came from me, I know it did. I felt it, I controlled it. And I know I want to learn more about it." "You're going through with the training?" "Of course, aren't you? After all, we're here for a while, at least until the Vortex reopens, or Reinald can figure out a way to open it up enough so both of us can get through. And just think - what if it's all true - the prophecy, the threat to the Realm, our being able to save it. This may be our whole reason for existence." He smiled teasingly at her. "Open yourself to extreme possibilities, Scully." "I don't think they've ever been more extreme. Okay, for now I'll go along with it, including the training. But Mulder, keep in mind that this isn't our reality, and it may not be anyone's reality. This may all be an illusion." "Fair enough. As long as you keep in mind that it may be a reality - our reality - for quite some time to come, okay?" He got to his feet wearily and offered her a hand out of the deep cushions of the chair. They leaned into each other in their fatigue, and he put an arm around her shoulders as they walked away from the fireplace. Every several feet, they stopped to extinguish the torches along the wall. "God, I'm exhausted. What time is it, anyway?" Scully asked, yawning. "Good question. My watch stopped when we went through the Vortex. I have a feeling some rules don't apply here. Certainly time may not be the same." He peered out of one of the tall windows. "It's dark out, so it must be night. I'm beat, too. You're sure you're okay with the sleeping arrangements? It's a big castle, you could probably have your own room." "No!" she said quickly. She colored a bit, then said, "No, I'd really prefer it if we weren't separated right now. It's a big bed, Mulder. There's plenty of room for the both of us." She looked at him enigmatically for a few seconds, then once again became all business. "Now, I wonder if the Realm has discovered plumbing?" Mulder opened the door near the bed. "In here, maybe?" He took a torch from the chamber and brought it into the small room, setting it into a bracket. The fixtures were primitive and not at all what they were used to, but their purpose was unmistakable and Scully had no problem divining their use. On the other side of the small room was a stone counter. A pitcher of warm scented water stood next to a ewer,and a stack of soft, folded cloths sat beside them. Scully stripped down to her slip and washed, noting that the scented water took on a whole new fragrance when it came in contact with her skin. She felt a little better afterwards. When she was finished, Mulder took his turn while she explored the armoire. Inside, she found a silky flowing garment she could use as a nightshirt. It was a little short, perhaps, but otherwise it fit well, and its dark green color complemented her creamy white skin and auburn hair wonderfully. "Why are the beds so high when so many of the people are so small?" wondered Scully aloud, trying to find a graceful way to get into bed. The mattress had to be at least four feet from the floor. Mulder quietly emerged from the bathroom, and seeing Scully, his breath caught in his throat. There were times, usually the least convenient or appropriate ones, that he was made forcefully aware that his partner was a very beautiful and desirable woman. He brutally quashed the thoughts that were rising, unbidden, in his mind. "Problem, Scully?" She looked over her left shoulder at him as he walked to the side of the bed. Her heart skipped a beat, then raced to catch up. He was clad only in boxers, his damp hair tousled boyishly, and he had acquired his own special aroma from the scented wash water. The light from the torch caught the angles of his face, the definition of the muscles on his lean body. It occurred to her that the sleeping arrangements might prove more difficult than she first believed. "Turn around." Wordlessly, a little breathlessly, she turned to face him, not knowing quite what to expect. He placed his warm hands at her waist, then effortlessly boosted her up on to the bed. Their eyes met for a second, then slid away almost by mutual consent, neither of them ready to see what was there. She pulled down the bedcover and quickly slid under it and snuggled down. Mulder extinguished the torch nearest the bed, leaving the embers of the fireplace as the sole source of light. He crossed to his side of the bed, boosted himself up and joined her under the covers. They turned to face away from each other, he on his side of the bed, she on hers, and a wide no man's land in the center. "G'night, Scully." "G'night, Mulder." Within minutes, Scully's breathing was deep and regular. In spite of his exhaustion, it was quite some time before Mulder followed her into sleep. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "No! NOOOO!" Together they sat bolt upright in bed, both sweating, hearts racing, gasping huge breaths into burning lungs, tear-filled eyes wide with terror. Mulder recovered first, and moved to sit at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, then furtively wiped the moisture from his cheeks. He heard the wind outside howling, blowing leaves against the tall windows. He glanced behind him over his shoulder, noticing Scully for the first time, and, uncertain of his voice, gently cleared his throat. "Sorry, Scully. Just one of my nightmares. I didn't mean to wake you. I'm going to stay up for a while. You go back to sleep." Her voice was quavering, uncertain. "I'm not so sure I want to, Mulder. This is bizarre, but... I was having your dream." "What?" He snapped around to stare at her. She was white and shaking. "I'm telling you, it was weird. It was like I *was* you, seeing everything from your eyes, thinking your thoughts, feeling your emotions. But at the same time, I knew that I was me." She frowned. "That doesn't sound like it makes any sense, but that's how it felt." She looked up at him, disturbed and frightened. Is this really what he saw and felt every time he had a nightmare? How had he managed to keep his sanity? Mulder looked at her intently. "What exactly did you see?" Closing her eyes to concentrate better, she proceeded to tell him what she had seen in the nightmare in exhaustive detail. As she spoke, Mulder's expression wavered repeatedly between shock and mortification and discomfort. He had never felt so naked, so exposed, in his life. When she finally finished and opened her eyes, his expression had been tamed into careful neutrality. "What happened, Mulder? How could this happen?" He reached out and took her hand, and caressed the back of it with his thumb. He kept his tone light. "Don't make too much of it, Scully. You've known about my nightmares for a long time, and you know what they're usually about. You've listened to the regression tapes, you've read Samantha's X-File. You know just about everything there is to know about her abduction. Plus, it's not exactly been a routine kind of day, and we're both overtired and overstimulated. It's just a coincidence, that's all. Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep." Somewhat reassured, she settled back down, and exhaustion returned her to sleep quickly. Mulder carefully slid out of bed and padded across the cool stones and warm thick rugs to the opposite end of the room. He added another log to the bright embers in the hearth, and using a poker, stirred the fire into life again. Then he sat in one of the armchairs to think. At this point, Scully did not need something else that she couldn't find a rational scientific explanation for. But Mulder was unnerved enough for the two of them by her experience. She had not only shared every bit of his nightmare - including thoughts and emotions he had never told anyone, not even Dr. Verber - but she had remembered it with the precision of *his* photographic memory. What the hell was happening? End Chapter Three Chapter Four Mulder's eyes flew open the second he heard the soft footsteps, but he remained motionless. Facing the sunlit windows as he was, he couldn't see anything. He turned over as if in sleep to try to see who was in their room, only to encounter his slumbering partner, her head now fast against his chest, his arm around her back and shoulders. The footsteps left the room and Mulder relaxed, giving in to temptation. Promising himself it would be only for a moment, he buried his face in her silky auburn hair, breathing in her scent deeply. Then the door opened, the footsteps returned and again he became alert as their intruder headed for the other end of the room. This was pleasant, thought Scully, wriggling sensuously and purring a little. A lovely way to wake up, in the strong arms of a ma- ! Abruptly, she awoke, and was held in place by a grip that had suddenly turned to iron. Carefully, she looked up and caught the caution in Mulder's eyes. Barely moving, barely audible, he placed his lips next to her ear and said, "Scully, we are not alone." She almost giggled - he had been saying that for years. Then she stiffened as she too heard noises from the end of the room. Obviously, their intruder had abandoned efforts to not awaken them. Mulder again caught her eye and deliberately, he nodded three times. On the third nod, they sat up in unison and slid out of the high bed, and started moving purposefully towards the intruder. The elf turned to them and smiled, saying something in the spoken song that was the language of the Realm in a surprisingly low pitched musical voice. Realizing that her words carried no meaning, she walked over to the refectory table where breakfast had been laid, indicating that they should sit and eat. Mulder looked at his partner and shrugged. They walked over to the table and sat. There were baskets of fresh warm breads and a wooden platter containing unfamiliar but fragrant fruits and something that looked like cheese. There were two earthenware bowls containing some thick, creamy looking liquid, and a large teapot from which a wonderful aroma was wafting. "I know I should probably be more careful about this, but frankly, Scully, I don't give a damn." Mulder had finished making his selections from the bread basket and had turned his attention to sampling as many different fruits as possible. "Any idea what the white stuff is?" "I thought YOU were going to be MY guinea pig, Mulder." She covered the tip of her spoon with the creamy substance and cautiously tasted it. "Ummm. Kind of like yogurt but smoother and sweeter and not so tangy. My opinion might change once I know where this stuff comes from, but for now I'd say it was delicious. How's the fruit?" "Good. Those blue things are pretty sour, but the orange ones taste a little like apples. The bread is wonderful, and I'm just working up the courage to try that cheese. The tea, by the way, is incredible - it's like tea and vitamins and Jolt Cola all wrapped up into one. I may run a marathon when I'm through with breakfast." "Save your energy, Mulder. From what Reinald said last night, you're going to need it for your training. Come to think of it, pass the tea down here, please - I think I'm going to need it, too." When the edge was off their hunger, they paid less attention to the food and more to the third occupant in the room, who was now in the process of filling the copper tub with steaming buckets of water. She was obviously feminine, and tiny, not more than a meter tall, with gamine features and short curling dark hair. She wore a short sleeved tunic and loose pants in an attractive shade of rose. Although she was slender, the ease with which she hoisted the huge buckets of water spoke of strength unexpected in such a small package. She half-chanted, half-sang to herself as she worked, oblivious to Scully and Mulder. She left the side of the tub, and moved to the huge bed. From underneath it, she extracted a kind of narrow platform. Standing on the platform, she had no difficulty straightening the bedclothes, first on one side of the bed, then on the other. Scully and Mulder watched her lightning quick movements, fascinated. She was done in no time. Then she was at their sides, trying with very little success to explain something. Finally, she went to the armoire, extracted some items and pushed them into Scully's arms. She made a little bowing or bobbing motion, then lightly took Scully's wrist, pulling it gently. She shrugged at Mulder, then allowed herself to be led to the bathroom, where the servant's gestures made it clear what she was to do next. Scully stood with her hand on the door latch and called down to her partner. "I guess I'll be getting washed and dressed in here, Mulder. The tub must be yours. Have fun." Suddenly wary, he turned his attention to the servant, who performed the strange bobbing motion again, and lightly took his wrist and tugged. Feeling a little foolish, he allowed himself to be led across the room by the tiny sprite to the side of the copper tub. She smiled and nodded, then grasped the waistband of his boxers and began pulling downward. Aghast, Mulder brushed away her hands, grabbed the waistband and pulled up. "Scully!" The servant patiently began to explain the procedure, which of course was lost on Mulder, and again took the waistband in her hands. There was no mistaking the panic in his voice this time. "SCULLY!" Scully shot out of the bathroom, pulling her clothes around her and clutching a pair of suede boots. "What's going on, Mulder?" Blushing, perspiring, he looked at her, his eyes wide and his voice choked. "She wants to take my clothes off! I think she wants to give me a bath!" After a second's hesitation, Scully started to laugh, and kept on laughing until tears ran down her cheeks and she fell to her knees, grasping her abdomen. Finally she regained control, stopped laughing and wiped her eyes. She looked up at him, still giggling a little and said, "I'm sorry, Mulder, really. I just couldn't help it. That's the best offer you've had in months, and you don't want to take it? There's no pleasing some people." "Scully, you know very well that there's a big difference between that and - " "Yeah, I know." She stood up, and began tucking her loose white shirt into her leather breeches. "Okay Mulder, it's up to you. It looks like this 'assisted bathing' is the accepted thing in this culture, and you can either go along with it gracefully or not. She's just trying to do her job. I might also point out that as we're probably going to be here for quite some time, we're going to have to adapt to a lot of strange things. You might as well start now. In any case, I'm leaving to find this Aldara person." She leaned against the table to pull on her boots. "Hey, Scully. Nice outfit." He nodded approvingly at her, his eyes warm. "Be careful, okay?" She returned the warmth in her smile. "Always, Mulder." A second later, she was gone. He turned his attention to his tiny servant, who had lost none of her determination. They stared at each other in a battle of wills for several long moments, before Mulder finally admitted defeat with a sigh. When in Rome.... He released the waistband of his boxers and spread his arms wide, abandoning himself to his fate. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Scully had not gone far when she realized that directions would have been helpful. Although the corridors of the castle were considerably more populated now than they had been the previous night, the language barrier still presented problems. Finally, on her fourth attempt she had succeeded in getting her message across, only to have a helpful troll give her detailed instructions on how to find Aldara in a language she could not comprehend. She had resigned herself to spending several hours lost in the corridors of the castle when by chance she stumbled, literally, over Tarnor. The little creature turned around to give the clumsy oaf that fell over him a piece of his mind when he recognized Scully. He bobbed, then took her wrist and pulled her down the hall as fast as her feet could carry her. When he was sure that she would continue to follow, he released her wrist, but did not drop the pace, chattering away. Scully figured he was probably giving her hell for being late for Aldara. After countless turns and trips up and down staircases, they found themselves in a large courtyard. Tarnor yelled across the courtyard to a figure who waved, and started toward them. Then he spoke a few more words to Scully, showed his pointed teeth in what she thought was meant to be a smile, and left. Happy to see the little thing doing so well after yesterday's horrors, she watched him leave, then turned her attention to the approaching figure. This was Aldara, the warrior instructor? thought Scully. The woman coming toward her was a few inches shorter than Scully, but had the same elfen features that their servant had possessed. Her hair was long, curly and black, and her eyes were the brightest green she had ever seen. She could not have weighed eighty pounds, dripping wet. Now I know why this place is in so much trouble, thought Scully. Aldara advanced, holding her hand out, and Scully grasped it warmly. And that was the last thing she did before flying through the air, to land in a heap about ten feet away from where she had started. "What the hell was that for?" she demanded angrily, only to be answered with Aldara's tinkling laughter. "Okay, so we're going to play rough." Scully got to her feet, her mind going back over every martial arts class she had ever taken, and dropped to a defensive posture. She and Aldara circled each other several times, parrying and feinting, then Aldara sprang for her throat. With a few quick moves, Scully eluded her attack, had Aldara on the ground and was straddling her, her knuckles drawn back and ready to deliver a potentially fatal blow. Aldara nodded, smiled, and raised her arms in submission. "Funny way you have of saying Hi here," Scully said coolly, getting up and offering a hand to her opponent. They locked eyes for a moment, smiled, and then Aldara took Scully's hand and hauled herself up off the cobbles of the courtyard. They brushed themselves off, and Aldara made a beckoning motion. Together they set off across the busy plaza. Everywhere stalls were set up, decorated with brilliantly colored flags and banners and signs, and vendors were singing, chanting, calling attention to their wares. This was evidently the Realm version of the mall, thought Scully. All sorts of foodstuffs, cloth, nails and tools, casks of this and barrels of that were for sale, by more different kinds of beings than Scully could have ever imagined. Fascinated by the scene around her, Scully's eyes were everywhere, but she was careful not to lose track of Aldara - she would never find her if they were separated in this crowd. They soon left the colorful marketplace behind, cut through a stable, and finally arrived at an open area adjacent to a blacksmith's forge. Aldara went to a recessed wall protected by an overhang. Scully saw that the wall was, in effect, a weapons rack. Aldara looked back at Scully, performed some kind of mental calculation, and chose a sword. Carefully, she affixed leather guards to both her sword and Scully's, then handed the agent her weapon. Taken completely by surprise by the weight of the weapon, she nearly dropped it but recovered in time to save herself that particular embarrassment. These things never looked like they were this heavy in the movies. Damn, thought Scully, this thing has to weigh at least twelve pounds. Experimentally, she held the handle in her right hand and tried to raise the five foot long piece of metal and found it next to impossible. Aldara came up behind her, and grasping Scully's hands, placed them properly on the hilt. She then helped Scully to raise the sword and swing it in an arc around their heads. She dropped her hands, ran over to pick up her own sword, and motioned for Scully to copy her movements. For at least two hours, the instructor and her student swung their weapons at targets and practiced the rudiments of swordsmanship, stopping only when Scully could scarcely raise her arms. As it was, pure Scully stubbornness had been the only thing stopping her from begging for a rest for the last twenty minutes or more. Finally, Aldara indicated that she should sit and went into the forge, while Scully collapsed gratefully on a hay bale. A few minutes later, Aldara emerged with two mugs brimming with the same kind of tea they had had for breakfast. Scully gulped it greedily, and was rewarded by a warm, potent feeling starting in her stomach and spreading to her limbs. She almost groaned, it felt so good. Aldara chuckled softly and refilled Scully's mug from her own. When they had finished, Aldara gestured to Scully and the two women walked back toward the stables. Aldara exchanged a few words with the farrier and within a few minutes, two saddled horses were led up to them. One of the stableboys assisted Aldara to mount, then she waited until Scully was also on her horse. But these horses were certainly a breed she had never seen. They were enormous, easily 22 hands high, with a long, ground-eating stride. The two women walked their horses out into the sunshine, heading for an open field about a hundred yards away. Scully had a feeling she was about to regret all those times in summer camp that she had opted for sailing at the expense of horseback riding. Her equestrian skills were sorely tested by a gentle canter around a fenced-in ring - and somehow she felt that somewhat more than that would be expected of her. She had no sooner had the thought than Aldara said something to her, and kicked her horse into a gallop. Scully's mount did not wait for any direction, but took off after its companion, tumbling its rider off in the process. "Ooooofff! Shit!" Scully painfully picked herself up off the ground, wiggling an arm here, an ankle there to check herself for any debilitating injuries that would prevent her from having to get back on that damned beast. Unfortunately, she found none, and her mood was not improved by the return of Aldara and the horses. Looking at the animal with a jaundiced expression, she led it over to a fence, which she climbed and then hopped onto the horse's back from there. This time, Aldara took it slower, and Scully felt her confidence starting to return as she proceeded without incident from walk to trot to canter. When Aldara felt she could handle it, after some two hours of basic horseback riding drills, the lessons began in earnest. Aldara would demonstrate some totally hair raising stunt, like galloping the length of the field without holding the reins, and Scully was expected to follow suit. "Easy for her, she's probably been riding since before she could walk," grumbled the agent. But she gamely, and at great cost to her physical wellbeing and her pride, attempted everything Aldara was showing her. They took a break in the midafternoon. From the saddlebags came flasks of the now familiar tea and a couple of small loaves of a dark, sweet bread. After they had eaten, the two women looked at each other, smiled and shrugged. It was frustrating to have so many questions that went unasked. Scully resolved to talk to Reinald tonight to see what could be done to break down the language barrier. She was sure she'd pick up the language sooner or later, but in the meantime the lack of communication couldn't be doing her training program any good, and it could even be dangerous. Finally the two women lay back and rested for a while, Aldara napping, and Scully just glad to be off the damned horse. The day was gorgeous - sunny, mild, cool breeze, puffy pink and white clouds in the bright blue sky. She gave a passing thought to Mulder, wondering how he was faring in his magic lessons, and more than a little resentful that compared to her, he had it so easy. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "Yeeeeooooow!" He was hanging upside down in midair, suspended about five feet above the stone floor. Reinald cast a look skyward that cursed his fate, then wiggled a finger and Mulder came crashing to the floor. "That is a very good example of what happens when you don't first center your power and properly tune your shield. And if you try to levitate anything without grounding yourself, *you* will be what's levitated. This little exercise is harmless, but if you don't center and ground your power or adjust your shield, it could be fatal with many of the other spells." "Not precisely harmless, " grunted Mulder, rubbing his shoulder. "I've never had to teach this before - these are all things that a Mage child knows before it can crawl. I can't believe you haven't killed yourself long before this. So much power in such untrained hands - it's unthinkable! All right - again." Mulder picked himself off the stone floor for what seemed the fiftieth time that day and sighed. Concentrating, he closed his eyes and focused his inner energy on a small bottle which sat on a table across the room. Pointedly, he mentally drew down his shield, then willed the bottle to come to him, slowly this time, slowly, slowly; and then to hang in midair two feet from him, where he could just open his eyes and - Crash! "It appears, Mulder, that I will run out of bottles before you have grasped the concepts of this lesson." In the safety of the corner, Grejor snorted, but quickly lost his amusement when the icy stares of not one but two Mages fell upon him. Mulder turned back to Reinald and said hopefully, "They're getting closer to me before they fall. Don't I get points for that?" Reinald looked at him sourly. "No." Mulder rubbed his eyes and sighed. "The concentrating isn't the problem, it's when I open my eyes. I just get so excited when I see that I actually levitated something, I lose my train of thought." "I would suggest that you curb your exuberance. We don't have the time for it. You have so much to learn, so much more than I thought would be necessary. Now... again." Again, determined, Mulder followed the steps. Center. Ground. Shield. Concentrate. He opened his eyes and plucked the bottle out of the air. "Easy when you know how," he murmured, looking in wonder at the little bottle. Reinald permitted himself a small smile. "It appears that we make progress, Mulder. Perhaps we shall manage to teach you what you need to know before you accidentally kill us all. Now... again." Mulder repeated the exercise flawlessly more than twenty times, then Reinald began adding different permutations. Each change brought with it a few smashed bottles, but eventually Mulder could make the bottle spin around the room, move it from one point to another, start and stop it repeatedly along its path, and move it between himself and Reinald at his will. Reinald nodded approvingly and glided over to the table. "We will rest for a short while, Mulder. Have some tea." As Mulder turned, he became aware of something hurtling towards his head. Instantly, he dropped to the floor, and cautiously looked up to see if he could identify the missile. A cup sailed overhead and smashed into the wall at the other end of the room, spattering its contents on a rather nice tapestry and onto the floor. Reinald looked down at him and shook his head. "You have the powers, now use them. It must become second nature, Mulder, something that you don't think about, something effortless or there is no point." He sighed. "Get up - it seems we have more work to do." It was over an hour later when Reinald finally stopped the drills and allowed the fledgling Mage a break. Mulder collapsed on a low stool and massaged his throbbing temples. Any progress he had made was at the expense of a terrific headache. Wordlessly he accepted the mug of fragrant tea and gulped half of it down. Immediately, his head started to feel better, and he was as refreshed as if he had taken a good long nap. "When I go back, this stuff goes with me," he declared, only half kidding. Reinald's eyes sparkled, but he did not respond to Mulder's comment. "You've made some progress today. Only practice will reinforce these lessons to the point that using your powers becomes as natural as breathing. But I must caution you - for now, do not attempt any magic unless I am with you. You are at an extremely dangerous stage right now. You know that you possess power, but you don't know enough about using it. I'm quite serious when I tell you that if you made certain errors right now, you could kill yourself or those around you. I'm not sure I would have risked bringing you through the Vortex if I had known you were untrained." "You didn't bring me through the Vortex, it was an accident." Suddenly suspicious, Mulder looked at Reinald directly and saw a slight change in his aura, a slight wavering. "Wasn't it?" he demanded. Could his and Scully's trip through the Vortex have been manipulated? Outside, the skies abruptly clouded over. For his part, Reinald could see the increase in the intensity of Mulder's aura and was alarmed. "Strong emotion must also be avoided right now. It could bring on -" A huge crash of thunder obscured what the magician said. "Then suppose you tell me the truth," snapped Mulder. Reinald looked at the expression on Mulder's face. "All right - but first you must ground your energy. Do it now, quickly!" Mulder stared at Reinald as lightning flashed through the sky. He took a deep breath, focused his mind on empty space, pressed his energy into the stone floor, then exhaled. Sun once again streamed through the tall windows of Reinald's chamber. Puzzled, Mulder asked, "Did I do that?" "I told you your powers were dangerous and not to be taken lightly," Reinald spat out. "Yes, you did that. Ungrounded strong emotion of any kind can have an effect on the weather. Now do you see why it is so critical for you to learn controls?" Mulder shook his head as if to clear it. "Well, I'm still waiting.... How accidental was our trip through the Vortex?" Reinald nodded. "Sit." When Mulder had complied, he continued. "I didn't pull you through the Vortex, if that's what you want to know. I was aware that our communication had a tendency to weaken you. The Vortex opened a bit more quickly than I expected it to, too quickly for you to get out of the way. Again, that was unintentional. I admit, I think I could have thrown you clear of it. I chose not to, I chose to leave it to the gods. Our need is so great and finding you was such a stroke of incredible good fortune, and I could not bring myself to throw that away. But I didn't bring you here. I just didn't do what I could to stop you. More tea?" Mulder held out his mug and thought over what Reinald had said. He felt the Mage was being honest with him. He could accept his reasoning; if the positions were reversed, he'd be at least tempted to do the same. But this was something he probably wouldn't share with Scully, at least not right away. Reinald looked at Mulder with some amusement . "I sense your wife is not as accepting of your situation as you are." Mulder nearly choked on his tea. "Wife? Scully's not my wife. In our reality, we're partners, we work together." Reinald looked confused. "But the lifebond - Now it was Mulder's turn to look confused. "What's a lifebond?" Reinald got up and paced the room as he spoke. "A lifebond is the closest form of relationship, the highest sort of commitment. It is quite rare in our world, even most married people don't have a lifebond. Those who are lifebonded are, almost inevitably, married to each other. This is very difficult to explain, because it has, for us, great cultural and spiritual significance that no language spell can adequately translate." Reinald stopped his pacing to concentrate on the best way to describe the lifebond. "It is as if the man's and the woman's aura fit together like a lock and key - a perfect match. Not only do the auras fit together, but they can mix with each other, to achieve true Oneness. The two - the man and the woman - together they are more than two, in their powers, in the depth of their feelings, in their capabilities. But alone, each is slightly less than a whole person - as if the other is an integral part of the self.... "Life-bonds develop over time, but as I said, most people never achieve a life bond. It is thought that there are two essential elements. First, an aural "predisposition" and secondly a physical proximity must both be present for the life-bond to develop. Most beings do not have the predisposition. Then, only a tiny minority of those who have the predisposition ever meet, and recognize the other that makes them whole. So it is a very rare thing. And in a Mage - unknown." Reinald observed Mulder closely. He shook his head. "Scully and I are partners, we're friends, but that's all. Besides, if I'm supposed to have all these powers, how can I also have a lifebond? Why can't magicians have lifebonds, anyway?" Reinald smiled. "In our world, magicians don't form close relationships, usually not even friendships. It's thought to be too dangerous. And no Mage has ever been born with the predisposition, in any case. I can't explain why you *do* have a lifebond. I had assumed it was something common in your world, and permitted to your magicians. Apparently I was wrong. But make no mistake - you are much more than partners, much more than friends." Reinald smiled to himself. These beings were so strange, so unaware. "The longer you are in each other's company, the clearer that is going to be to you," he continued softly. "But in the meantime, if I have inadvertently created an awkward situation, I will have an additional chamber prepared for your use." He reached for the wall cord to summon a servant. "No. No, that won't be necessary. At least not right now," Mulder murmured, distracted. He felt like someone had kicked his legs out from under him. In a way, Reinald's information explained so much. Their incredible effectiveness whenever they worked as a team. The feelings that he had for Scully that he tried to deny even to himself. The way Scully looked at him sometimes - yes, Scully would feel the same way! His heart leapt with that knowledge. But the life-bond was frightening, too. It meant that there were things he could no longer deny to himself. Each person was not a whole individual - the need for the other was so fundamental, so basic, that it was built right into the lifebond. And that thought terrified him. It explained his feelings when he thought Scully was dying after her return from her abduction - his absolute certainty that he could not exist without her. If anything, this new knowledge of the lifebond intensified his fear of ever losing her. If what Reinald said about the lifebond was true, losing her would be losing himself. He had nearly been there once and it had come close to destroying him. If a lifebond meant the potential for that kind of devastation, Mulder wanted no part of it. There had already been more than enough loss in his life. Reinald's eyes narrowed as he watched the young man, feeling the unshielded emotions that were almost overwhelming him. Just to be safe, he cast a brief spell to avoid weather disturbances for the next few hours until Mulder had had a chance to come to terms with this. "I think you have done enough for today. You have much to think about. I would be pleased if you and Scully could join me for dinner tonight. There will be someone here I want you to meet. We can decide on your lessons for tomorrow then. Get some rest. And remember - no magic, no strong emotion." Absently, Mulder accepted Reinald's invitation. The Mage pulled the braided cord and within seconds a servant appeared to show him back to their chamber. For the rest of the afternoon, he stared into the fire in his hearth, thinking. End of Chapter Four Chapter Five Scully and Aldara faced each other, warily circling, each armed with two knives. As the swords had been earlier in the day, the knives were sheathed. For Scully, her drills and exercises with Aldara had now become a matter of pride. She had felt all day she was at a disadvantage, coping with learning totally new skills. With close hand to hand fighting and martial arts, she was on surer ground. For some reason, it was becoming increasingly important to her to have Aldara's respect. She certainly respected Aldara - the woman was incredible. She was lightning quick, totally fearless and amazingly accomplished at everything Scully had seen so far. She really regretted not being able to talk to her. Several times today both women had automatically started to speak in their respective languages, then grimaced in frustration and stopped. Scully hoped Reinald would be able to do something about this, and more than once wished that Star Trek's Universal Translators were a reality. As they circled each other, the sky became dark without warning, and a crash of thunder reverberated through the forested hills. Aldara jumped and looked fearful as lightning split the sky. Scully was not normally afraid of thunderstorms, but she was in a different world, and the weather certainly appeared to be making Aldara uneasy. Just when she was wondering whether she should take a cue from Aldara and look for cover, the sky cleared and the sun shone once again. Suddenly, Scully had a sense of being elsewhere, then recognized Reinald's chamber and heard his voice. She was too startled at first to pay much attention to what he was saying, but finally began to listen. He was saying something about how he might have been able to prevent them from falling throught the Vortex, but chose not to. She then felt a thought that it might be better not to offer this particular piece of information to Scully. The vision ended abruptly, and she shook her head to clear it. What was going on? Meanwhile, Aldara had resumed her aggressor's crouch, and Scully quickly did the same. In this exercise, the agent gave as good as she got, and she noticed some rather surprised approval on Aldara's face several times. Both women were grimy, bruised and perspiring by the time Aldara indicated that class was out for the day. Scully walked with her to the castle and followed her through the corridors, to finish up at a place which seemed familiar. Grejor answered Aldara's tentative knock and reluctantly fetched his master. Reinald spoke to Aldara for several minutes. By the number of times her name came up, Scully knew that she was the main topic of conversation. Reinald finally nodded a dismissal to Warrior, who performed a kind of salute to Scully and then disappeared down the hall. Reinald considered Scully's appearance. "It looks like you worked hard today. I have invited you and Mulder to dinner here in my chambers. You will want to freshen up before that." He summoned Grejor to find Scully's servant. When she arrived scant moments later, Reinald issued instructions to her, then he turned to Scully. "Lita will show you back to your chamber and draw your bath. She will also call for you and Mulder at the appropriate time and show you back here for dinner. Until then." He bowed slightly and Grejor opened the door, and Scully had no choice but to leave, somewhat frustrated. She had been hoping for an opportunity to ask some questions, starting with what she was supposed to wear tonight. Hopefully, someone had stocked the armoire with a wardrobe in her size, because she didn't think either her present outfit or her green nightshirt would be appropriate. The way back from Reinald's chamber was starting to look somewhat familiar, and Scully tried to keep track of the lefts and rights. The journey to their chamber did not seem to take as long as it had the previous night. As soon as they got inside, Lita started transferring hot water from the cauldron on the fire into the big copper tub. Scully gingerly lowered herself into the empty chair next to Mulder's by the hearth. "And how was your day?" she asked, noting his smudged tunic and pants. "Oh, you know. Same old, same old," he smiled. "You okay? You look like you've been through the wars." "I have, literally," she laughed, and gave him a brief summary of her day. "I hurt in places I didn't know I had. Aldara is amazing. I made the mistake of judging her on her size when I first met her. I'll never do that again. Anyway, if we stay here long enough, I'll either be in fantastic shape or I'll be dead," she joked. The dark shadow that crossed Mulder's face vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but not so quickly that Scully didn't catch it. "What's up, Mulder?" she asked softly. When he looked over at her, his 'innocent' expression was in place. "Nothing." "Cut the crap, Mulder." He shrugged. "I don't know. Flashbacks, I guess. Forget it." His expression lightened as he changed the subject. "Aren't you going to ask me what I learned in school today?" She decided not to press the issue, and sighed. "Okay, I'll bite - what did you learn in school today?" Mulder launched into a hilarious account of the day's events, but omitted his conversation with Reinald about the Vortex and the lifebond. Sooner or later he would have to talk to Scully about the lifebond, but not yet. And she definitely needed more time to become accustomed to the present situation before discussing Reinald's part in their passing through the Vortex. He was all the more startled, then, when Scully said, "So I understand our trip here wasn't entirely accidental?" "Wh-what? Who told you that?" Mulder said suspiciously. "Nobody. Mulder, it happened again. For a few seconds, I was *you*. I was there when you and Reinald were discussing how we got here, and Reinald said that he could have prevented our falling through the Vortex, but didn't." "Might have been able to prevent it," he corrected. "Okay, but the fact remains that he could have done something and he didn't. I don't like the idea of someone playing God with my life. And that includes you, Mulder. Where do you get off deciding what information should be passed on to me and what shouldn't? I'm a big girl, you know. I can take it." Mulder privately acknowledged that she might have a point, which made him all the more obstinant. "What, and you have no secrets from me, Scully? I was just trying to do you a favor. You seemed so overwhelmed last night, and knowing this particular piece of information would serve no purpose other than to get you upset. I would have told you eventually. What else did you hear or see?" Mulder was really alarmed now. He wasn't ready to deal with all the ramifications of the lifebond and he was certain that she wasn't either, regardless of her insistence in knowing everything. He wanted to give her more time to accept everything else that was happening before getting into the deeply personal issue of the lifebond - if such a thing even existed. But if she had already 'seen' it - She looked at him suspiciously. "That's all. There may have been more before that, but I really wasn't paying attention because I was so surprised. Well, that and the weather. Did you hear that freak thunderstorm that came out of nowhere?" "Uh... I did that." "What?" Scully's eyes flew open and a look of disbelief appeared on her face. Relieved to change the subject, Mulder said, "Yeah, apparently any strong emotions that I have that I forget to ground tend to cause sudden shifts in the weather. I had gotten upset when I thought that Reinald might have intentionally drawn us here. He didn't - I guess that's the part of the conversation you heard - but for a few seconds I thought he did and I got mad, and that's when the thunderstorm happened." "I'll have to remember not to piss you off. What do you think is causing these visions? This is the second time, Mulder." "Third, actually. Yesterday, after the soul-eaters attacked us and you had been bitten - I felt it, Scully, I was you for a few seconds. I don't know. Maybe it's normal in this place and happens to everyone. Or maybe it just happens to beings from our world who travel through the Vortex. Or maybe this is ESP that was latent in our world, but something about this place brings it out. We might want to keep this to ourselves just for now." His face brightened as he drew her attention to the elf. " Oh, Scully, I think our friend is trying to get your attention." Mulder grinned wickedly. "Her name is Lita. Evidently, my bath time is in the evening. Okay, Mulder, take a hike. Do we have any clothes, by the way?" "Yeah, the armoire is full of stuff for the both of us for every occasion. Reinald said that we'd be meeting someone special tonight. Unfortunately, I don't think there's a Mr. Blackwell around to tell us what to wear." "Maybe Lita will set things out. Anyway - vamoose, Mulder. Give me about twenty-five minutes." Actually, he gave her closer to thirty-five, having become lost in the hallways. By the time he found his way back, Scully was just about finished dressing. "Scully - you're beautiful!" She was wearing a form fitting, floor length leaf green tunic made of a heavy satin fabric, shot through with silver threads, and caught at the waist by a delicate but ornate silver belt. Simple sandals were on her feet. Her hair was up, with damp tendrils curling around her face. The torches, now lit for the approaching darkness, highlighted the translucence of her skin. "Thanks," she said, almost shyly. "You'd better get ready." He scooped up the clothes lying on the bed and went into the bathroom. He emerged less than ten minutes later. "Well, Mulder, I'd say you're starting to get into the spirit of the place," observed Scully, but the frank admiration in her gaze belied the coolness of her words. He always looked good, but tonight, in these clothes which so complemented his tall, lean form, his appearance was enough to make her heart race. His outfit was a more formal version of what Scully had worn earlier in the day. His loose white shirt was of the finest linen, with a high tight collar and intricate embroidery down the full sleeves. The shirt was worn outside and gathered at the waist by a heavy leather belt. Tight suede breeches and high leather boots completed the outfit. Lita fussed over him a bit, making tiny adjustments here and there, then she nodded and motioned for them to follow her. This time, both Mulder and Scully thought they might have actually been able to find Reinald's quarters unaided. Grejor answered their knock and dismissed Lita, then stood back to allow them to enter. Reinald glided forward to greet them. It was obvious that he was making every effort to be a charming host. "Tonight, the Prince has joined us for dinner. I was anxious for you to get to know him. Oh, and the other individual is his uncle, Drellor," he said dismissively. "Scully, please have some wine. I am afraid I must offer you tea, Mulder. Magicians should avoid intoxicants of any kind - too dangerous." "That's fine," Mulder said. "But Reinald, how are we going to communicate with the Prince? No one but you speaks our language." "I've extended the language spell to cover this room for tonight. There should be no problem." Scully took a glass of wine from a tray that Grejor was passing around and turned to Reinald. "You're going to have to do better than that, Reinald. I have to be able to communicate with Aldara. It's very inconvenient not to be able to ask even simple directions. It's interfering with my lessons. We need to be able to speak your language. Mulder and I are perfectly willing to learn it the conventional way, but that will take a lot of time, time that we may not have. We're here in your Realm, we're willing to help fight for it. But we need to know what's going on, we need to be able to communicate. What can you do?" Her eyes looked directly into his. He looked at her equally directly. "To be truthful, I had hoped to limit your access somewhat." In response to Scully's quick frown, he raised his hands in a placating manner. "There are many things about your appearance here which some of our people would find confusing. They are simple, and know nothing of the existence of your world. They may become easily frightened." Mulder looked at him, caught the slight wavering of the Mage's aura. "And there's something else, isn't there? What is it, the Prophecy?" Reinald sighed and shrugged. "I'm not used to dealing with someone I can't shield from. All right, yes. Your appearance and descriptions do seem to be in conformance with the Prophecy. That is something that I would rather we keep to ourselves for now. Not only would it scare the people and raise lots of questions we don't want to answer right now, but we would be tipping our hand to our enemies. In our land, it is difficult to keep some secrets. Between the constant intrigue of the Court, and the fact that many of our people are sensitive to auras, keeping your secret will be difficult enough. If you can fully communicate, you might say something to alarm someone, let something slip." He shook his head. "No, it's too dangerous." "That may be," said Mulder quietly. "However, it is the price of our cooperation. We're prepared to lay it on the line for you..." Reinald's face clouded as the language spell faltered over the use of idiom. Mulder rephrased, "We're prepared to help you, the least you can do is trust us to communicate. It may even make the difference between life and death. Our work in our reality requires discretion and judgement; I assure you that we will use it here as well." Reinald looked from Mulder to Scully and back again. Faced with the firm set of their jaws, the direct stare, the folded arms, he realized that he would not have his way - not with these people. Especially if they did in truth fulfill the Prophecy. He exhaled forcefully, then said, "Very well. But I expect you to use your discretion and judgement. There are many here at the castle who cannot be trusted - the Prince's uncle amongst them. And there are few I trust completely. I will cast the spell tonight after everyone has gone. In the morning, you will speak, read and write our language." "Thank you," said Mulder. "Now, is there any particular protocol to be observed with the Prince?" "As outsiders, you would not be expected to know most of the idiosyncrasies of our culture. This is fortunate, because we have an exceptionally involved etiquette, determined by class, and in some cases, type of being. You could never learn it well enough to pass for a native. That's why we have said that you are travellers to our land, so that people won't be surprised by what you don't know. As far as what you need to know for tonight - stand when he stands, sit when he sits. You may address him either as Your Highness or simply as Andalor. I think you may be pleasantly surprised. He will not be what you expect. Are you ready?" Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and followed Reinald across the room to where the table had been set. Because of her nephews and nieces, Scully was as accustomed to children as any non-parent could be. Mulder, if asked, would give the traditional bachelor's answer and say he was uncomfortable with children. However, Scully had seen him with kids on several of their cases, and actually he had a rapport with them that astonished her, an ability to get onto their level and have them open up to him that she envied. Reinald led them over to the hearth. "Andalor, these are the travellers I was telling you about. Come and meet them." From behind the high back of an intricately carved chair peeked the Prince. He scrambled off the chair and walked over to join Reinald. The affection between the two was clear. Reinald stroked the child's head and Andalor looked adoringly up at the Mage. "Mulder and Scully, this is Prince Andalor." The child observed them the way children can, with a penetrating gaze that can make the most confident adult uncomfortable. Two travellers, one with the Mage's blue aura, and one with Healer and Warrior colors. The Prince looked up at Reinald with the poise and restraint of a much older and more sophisticated person. Young as he was, the meaning of these travellers, of their auras, was not lost on him. "Your Highness, thank you for the hospitality of the Realm," said Scully. "It is a pleasure to meet you." The child was beautiful, she thought. Smaller than she had expected for an eight year old, he had straight thick blond hair which framed his oval face. His eyes were captivating - large, and of a startling violet shade, and hinting at a wisdom far in advance of his years.... Reinald looked at the child, then nodded, and finally gave him a gentle nudge. Andalor looked at them, stood up very straight, and rattled off a little speech he had clearly been instructed to memorize for the occasion. "Welcome to the Realm. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace." In typical childish fashion with such memorized pieces, Andalor rushed throught the words on one breath and with as little inflection as possible. Mulder smiled. "I'll bet it was hard learning that." The child looked up with a slightly mischievous expression. "Not really. I can remember everything. Reinald says it's a great gift." Mulder squatted down to be closer to the child's height. "Want to know a secret? I can remember everything too. Reinald's right, it *is* a great gift." "Really? You really can?" the boy squealed. "I thought I was the only one. Are you sure? Let me test you!" "Andalor, do not be rude," chided Reinald. The child calmed down immediately at the words of the Regent, but looked very disappointed. "Not at all, I don't mind. What kind of a test, Andalor?" Mulder was rewarded by seeing the child light up and look up at Reinald, who sighed and nodded. "Good!" exulted the Prince, who took Mulder by the hand to lead him over to a tall bookcase teeming with volumes. "I can see why you're so proud of him," Scully said to Reinald. The two were observing the antics of Mulder and Andalor, who were on the floor, heads together, pouring over some books and chattering excitedly. "As am I, as am I," huffed a pudgy little man hustling up to join them. He shot the Mage a dark look. "I'm sure it was merely an oversight that Reinald failed to introduce me. I am Drellor, brother to the late King and uncle to Andalor. Yes, I think I've done a fine job with the boy, molding him for the great responsibilities he will have to shoulder. How wonderful it is to have such a lovely guest, oh my, yes." He caught Scully's hand and bent to kiss it. She snatched it back as quickly as she could without appearing rude. The man's a reptile, thought Scully. He should be hanging around singles bars, asking women their astrological signs. The bad blood between Reinald and Drellor was quite obvious. Table talk could get lively, she thought, almost looking forward to it. Responding to a subtle signal from Grejor, Reinald called everyone to the table. Both Mulder and Scully realized they were famished, having had nothing substantial since breakfast. The meal was simple but delicious - a kind of stew, spicy and aromatic, served with crusty hot bread. Mulder and the Prince sat side by side across from Scully and were deep in conversation throughout the meal. Scully's appetite was dampened somewhat by being seated next to Drellor, but Reinald deftly put him in his place several times during the meal, which helped. At least when he was sputtering about being "in too high a position to have to listen to Reinald's insults," his fat little hands weren't rubbing against her knee. She comforted herself with daydreams of what she'd be able to do to the little toad after a few more lessons from Aldara. After fruit and cheese were served, the meal came to an end. The Prince was yawning openly, Drellor was sulking, and both Mulder and Scully wanted nothing more than to return to their chamber as the events of the day started to catch up with them. They said their thanks and goodbyes and, refusing the offer of someone to show them the way, headed back to their room. Mulder took Scully's arm and tucked it under his, sandwiching her hand between his own. They strolled the hallway slowly, taking their time, paying more attention to the decoration and design of the castle. "You and the Prince seemed to hit it off," she observed. "Yeah, surprisingly, he's a good kid. I've always thought that royal kids would behave like the offspring of Satan and have an attitude to boot, but he's really a very nice little boy. Very intelligent, almost frighteningly so. And he does have an eidetic memory. His parents died some time ago. Evidently, Uncle Drellor thought he was a shoe-in for the Regent's job until the late King's will named Reinald. The kid can't stand his uncle, by the way." "The kid's got good taste. His uncle is a worm. Very full of himself, ready to take credit for everything that turns out well. If he pawed me one more time, I was going to -" "He was putting a move on you, Scully? I knew I detested him on sight for some reason. Don't worry. I'll change him into a frog or something - as soon as I learn how. Here we are. And you thought I had a bad sense of direction. Oh, ye of little faith." Mulder pushed the door open. Evidently, Lita had already been in to prepare the room. The opaque bedcurtains had been loosed from their ties, creating a private cocoon in the midst of the large room, and the bedcovers had been opened in readiness. With only two torches still lit and the fire dying down, the chamber was cloaked in a comfortable dusk. Again, tea had been prepared on a tray by the fire. "Tea, Scully?" 'Mmmm, please. This could get to be a very nice habit - sitting and talking and having tea before bed. Very civilized." She sat in one of the chairs and gratefully accepted the mug from Mulder. "The nighttime tea is different from the daytime tea." "Yeah, this one probably has soporific properties, like the daytime tea has energizing ones. Somehow, I don't think I'm going to have any problems with insomnia tonight. I had a few minutes with Reinald while you were saying goodnight to Andalor. I'll be spending the morning with him and then joining your friend Aldara. Apparently, Reinald thinks it would be a good idea for me not to be completely dependent on my magic to save my life. That may not show much confidence in my magic, but it's nice he thinks my life is worth preserving. Anyway, I'll be doing a couple of hours every afternoon with Aldara, playing Errol Flynn." Scully smiled knowingly. "I must say, I'm looking forward to watching you." He chuckled. "I'm sure. Unfortunately, you won't get the chance. When I show up, you're supposed to go find Corvay the Healer, and get updated on the latest in herbal and psychic healing." Scully looked dismayed. "Mulder, I don't believe in psychic healing! How can I learn something I don't even believe in?" He smiled. "It's what I keep saying - open yourself up to extreme possibilities, Scully." He smile faded. "After all, it saved your life yesterday from the soul-eaters' toxin. Anything that saves your life is an extreme possibility worth believing in." She stretched and groaned. "Well right now I'd like to be able to psychically heal my aching body. I knew I had had a workout, but God, I'm really feeling it now." He walked over to her chair and gave her a hand up. In a low voice he said, "Maybe I can do something about that. Go get ready for bed." She looked at him quizzically, but his expression gave nothing away. She walked to the armoire, plucked out a pale blue silky thing, and went into the bathroom. Mulder gathered the used tea things on the tray, then extinguished the two torches. By the low light from the dying fire, he stripped out of his clothes and left them folded neatly over a chair. Naked, he padded over to the armoire and chose some soft dark blue shorts and slipped them on. When Scully came out of the bathroom, he entered to take his turn. Before the door closed, he stuck his head out of the opening. "Oh, and Scully? Take that blue thing off." Her head snapped around to look at him. Her eyes were huge. "What?" she said, in a hoarse whisper. He smiled. "Relax. You're just going to get the best massage of your life. Get into bed. I'll be out in a minute." He closed the door. When he emerged, Scully was in bed, covers up to her neck. The blue nightshirt lay on the bedcover near the bottom of the bed. Moving the silky hangings out of the way, he boosted himself up onto his side of the bed. "Roll over." Somewhat apprehensively she complied, turning over onto her stomach. He crawled over to her on hands and knees, straddled her upper thighs, and gently lowered himself. "Okay?" Silently, she nodded, then felt him pulling the warmth and safety of the bedclothes away, down past her shoulders, past her waist, just to the point she would have asked him to stop, had he not stopped of his own accord. She felt him lean over her, his special aroma registering in her senses, his breath on her back. He placed his warm hands on her neck, his thumbs running up the back of her neck in tiny circles to unknot the muscles at the base of her skull. When her neck muscles had relaxed, he started in first on her left shoulder, carefully avoiding the injured skin, then the right. Scully moaned a little, and he stopped. "Did I hurt you?" "Unh-uh." She shook her head a little. "Feels wonderful." His long fingers first kneaded the muscles of her shoulders and upper arms gently, then progressively more deeply until the knots had been completely smoothed out. He made his way down each arm, even massaging the tiny muscles of her hands and fingers, until they lay limp on the mattress. He then turned his attention to her back, his hands sweeping up in long, firm strokes. "Sorry, Scully," he murmured. "This would be a lot better with lotion or oil." Her words were muffled. "Mulder, if it were any better, I couldn't stand it." He smiled, then probed the muscles around her shoulder blades with his strong fingers for several minutes, working out all the kinks, and smoothed the skin with gentle strokes from his palms before going on to the middle of her back and repeating the the same magic there. Finally, he placed his hands low on the small of her back on either side of her spine, and using firm pressure made small circles with the heels of his hands over the tight muscles there. Scully gasped softly. Mulder hesitated for a second and took a breath, then continued. His voice was soft and shook slightly. "Any more of that, Dana, and I'm going to have to stop." He let his hands venture under the covers, and sensing no protest, extended the deep massage to her tailbone and hips for several minutes. Then he again smoothed the skin of her lower back with soft strokes from his palms before rolling up the covers to her shoulders. "Scully?" he whispered. "Dana?" Her breathing was deep and regular. He leaned over her to try to catch a glimpse of her face, but couldn't. Gently, he swept a lock of her hair back from the side of her neck and replaced it with his lips for the space of five heartbeats. Then he rolled from her, moved the bedcurtains and slid off the bed. Finding a blanket of sorts in the armoire, he walked to the hearth, moved the armchairs to face one another, and stretched out. Magician or not, there was no way he could stay in that bed with her right now. Eyes wide open, Scully drew in a tremulous breath. End Chapter Five Chapter Six "Good. Good, you're improving." Aldara stopped to wipe the perspiration from her face with the back of her arm. "How about a break?" Scully collapsed gratefully where she stood near the hay bales, and leaned back into them for support. She and Aldara had been drilling for what must have been hours now. The removal of the language barrier had been a huge relief. It had been nice to make small talk with Lita at breakfast this morning, and to be able to ask directions for getting around. Aldara had lost no time in taking advantage of being able to communicate and had worked Scully very hard. Physically, she was bone-tired, but she was starting to come to terms about being here and with her role in the Realm. Already, she felt herself becoming stronger, and exulted in it. Only when she thought of home and what her disappearance would do to her mother - again - did Scully have misgivings, so she tried to focus as much as possible on her job here. Aldara appeared, carrying the ubiquitous tea. She handed Scully one mug and sat down in the dust near her. Searching in her pocket, she brought out two small pieces of fruit, and tossed one to Scully, who caught it and smiled her thanks. "It's nice to finally be able to talk," Scully began. "How did you come to be a warrior? Seems like an odd occupation in such a peaceful place." "It isn't always peaceful, it just seems that way. Besides, there's the Prophecy - the time is coming, maybe soon." Her jaw tightened, then she repeated, "So, how did I come to be a warrior?" Aldara laughed, but it was laughter tinged with bitterness. "Probably because I was always fighting as a kid. I'm half human and half elf." She drew her hair back to show Scully her pointed ears. "Such mixtures aren't unknown, but they are unusual. The beings usually stick to their own kind. That was part of the problem, but not the biggest part. The real problem was that elves are very sensitive to magic and auras, and my father was particularly sensitive, even for an elf. He had abilities that, if they had been developed further, might have made him a very powerful magician. "Of course once my mother and he got together, that was out of the question. All my brothers and sisters seemed to inherit his physical characteristics and magic abilities - everyone except me. I grew to be even taller than my human mother, and was totally blind to the metaphysical, compared to the special sight that my brothers and sisters had. And which they never failed to use to their advantage whenever we played games or did chores. I just never felt I belonged, especially after my mother died in my sixth summer. I don't really blame my father, but he had more in common with the other kids, and spent more time and energy on them. Nothing I did seemed to please him. So I was always angry." Again, she laughed bitterly. "Quick anger is one of the few elven characteristics I did inherit from him. Anyway, it became clear that I needed either a way to get rid of the anger or to use it, and using it was easier. So I left home in my sixteenth harvest. I lived in the forest by my wits for a while, getting stronger, learning of the world. When I journeyed here to Fairwoods Keep, I offered my services and to my surprise, they accepted my offer." As Aldara talked, Scully couldn't help but make comparisons. She, too, had always tried to please her father, coming to the realization only after he was gone that he had been proud of her all along. And Mulder - his nightmare childhood didn't bear thinking about. Funny, she thought, how these experiences affect us. They either make us what we are, or we become what we are in spite of them. "Is the weather always changeable? That thunderstorm yesterday came out of nowhere." Scully still couldn't quite bring herself to believe Mulder had caused it. Aldara looked puzzled for a minute, then her face cleared. "Oh, you mean the Mage-storm." "Mage-storm... that was a Mage-storm? How can you tell?" asked Scully, frowning. Aldara looked at her strangely, wondering where this traveller was from that she didn't know about Mage-storms. "There's thunderstorms, and then there's Mage-storms. Mage- storms happen when a magician becomes furious," Aldara explained. "They're different, more concentrated, more violent. They can even be directed at someone. Just one of the countless ways that magicians can use their power to frighten and intimidate," she finished coldly. "I take it you don't like magicians much." Aldara shrugged. "Not much, no." "My partner is a magician, you know. At least Reinald thinks he is." "I know. I heard." She was unenthusiastic. "Reinald's not bad, for a Mage." "I think you'll find that Mulder is quite a bit different from what you're expecting," Scully said. Aldara gave her an enigmatic look and stood up. "Take the guard off your sword. You've learned enough to protect yourself. Let's see what you can do." Scully removed the guard, grasped the hilt with both hands, and assumed the correct stance. With a throaty yell, she swung it first over her head and then toward Aldara, who fended off the blow easily, and launched one of her own. Scully blocked it inelegantly but effectively. Mulder stood in the shelter of a stack of wooden crates and observed the amazing scene before him. The clash of metal on metal rang in his ears as he watched the two figures whirl and thrust and parry, swinging the swords, longer than their wielders were tall, with apparent ease. Suddenly Aldara's weapon sliced through the air with incredible speed. A thin line of red showed through the long cut in the left sleeve of Scully's tunic. He caught his breath and just managed to bite back a cry of concern. But if anything, the wound only spurred Scully on to greater ferocity. Mulder, his heart still beating in his throat, was speechless. Would his partner never cease to amaze him? He could understand now why his overprotectiveness might seem like an insult. He moved from behind the shelter of the crates and approached the two women. Scully lifted her sword and struck down at Aldara so hard that the warrior grunted, and a look of surprised approval came over her face. A couple of deft moves later, however, Scully's weapon was flying out of her hands, coming to lodge in the ground at Mulder's feet, and Aldara's sword was at her throat. The two women looked at each other and tried to catch their breath. "Excellent, very promising," panted Aldara, smiling and nodding as she lowered her sword. Scully merely grinned in response, not having enough breath to speak yet. But the praise from her exacting teacher elated her. She walked over toward Mulder, and used two hands to pull the weapon from the ground. She smiled up at him. "Hey, Mulder. You ready?" She refastened the guard to her sword, and passed the weapon to Aldara. "From what I've seen, no, I'm not even close to being ready. Are you a quick learner, Scully, or have you been hiding some of your talents from me? Skinner should see you now." She flashed a grin at him, then turned to Aldara and said, "This is Mulder. He can be a real pain in the ass, so don't let him give you any trouble." Turning back to Mulder, she did not see the warrior's look of anxiety. "Good luck, Mulder. You'll need it. Although I tired her out a little for you. You have no idea how much I'd like to stick around for your lesson," she smiled impudently. Aldara's concern for her new friend grew. Didn't Scully realize that one just did not speak to a Mage like this? "Have a nice class with Corvay," he teased. In a very low voice, he said, "Maybe he can take a look at that arm. You ladies don't play nice, do you?" His half-smile did not entirely reach his eyes, which showed only his concern. "I'm okay, Mulder." She turned and started walking back toward the castle, then called over her shoulder, "Just be careful - she doesn't like magicians much." Inwardly, he groaned. Oh, great. He walked over to Aldara and smiled. "Hi. I'm Mulder. I'd shake hands with you, but I've been told that has dire consequences." Her unfriendly stare thawed slightly for a moment, and then once again became glacier cold. "What can you do with a sword, Mage?" "Well, I did a little fencing while I was at Oxford, but I've never used anything the size of those," He said, indicating the long blades. "Besides, that was a long time ago." The language spell had some problems with "Oxford", but Aldara understood the essence of what he said. "Those are women's weapons," she said, just short of making the words an insult. She walked over to the weapons rack and chose a sword at least eight inches longer and five pounds heavier. She attached a leather guard to it and handed it to Mulder, who was as startled as Scully had been at how heavy and cumbersome the weapon was. "Hold it like this. Watch, then do what I do." Quickly she demonstrated the basic moves. All right, Mage, she thought. Let's see what you can do with that. "Now, with me." Again, she quickly went through the sequence of practice moves and was surprised to see Mulder not only keeping up, but performing the actions with a grace and economy of motion that was astounding in a beginner. Aldara frowned a little when they had finished. "Not entirely bad. Again, by yourself this time." Mulder swung the sword, performing the whirls and kicks and slashes that made up the basics of Realm swordsmanship. Based on what Scully had said about Aldara's not liking magicians, he was not expecting effusive praise, although he felt he was doing pretty well. He wondered what she had against Mages. "Adequate. And again." Aldara watched him with an eagle eye for mistakes. For once, it was nice to have the upper hand when dealing with a Mage. She drilled him for over an hour without stopping, and he performed the basic moves repeatedly without comment or complaint. Perversely, the better he performed and the more he persevered, the more sullen Aldara became. So far, he had displayed no weakness, and had demonstrated skills that she had labored years to acquire. It wasn't fair, she thought. It wasn't fair at all. She began to get angry. "Now, Mage, let's see if you can apply what you've learned and put your new skills to some practical use." Aldara brought her sword up to fighting position. Perhaps it was her anger, perhaps it was something deeper. In any case, she did not notice that she had never refastened the leather guard onto her blade. Aldara launched herself at Mulder who acted purely out of instinct at first, throwing his blade up to repel hers, astonished at the force such a tiny figure could exert. Before he could get over the shock of the first attack, she was at him again, coming from the opposite side. Mulder dropped into a forward roll, sprang to his feet and turned to face her, bringing his sword from around his head to crash against hers with tremendous power. His unconventional move had startled her, breaking her concentration, and she had to use all her strength to fend off his blow. Aldara's temper flared as it hadn't done for years. Savagely, she attacked, swinging her sword, cutting the air with lightning speed, slicing through the air again and again. Mulder defended himself as best he could, but was clearly not a match for the seasoned fighter. He grimly maneuvered his blade to meet and stop each of her blows, knowing that he couldn't keep it up forever. Finally, her blade bit into the leather guard on his sword, and caught. Her next move twisted the weapon from his hands and sent it spinning out of his reach. He went down hard on his back, her weapon sharp against his throat. Urgently, he cried out, "Aldara, don't!" Hearing her name, Aldara slowly came to herself as her white-hot anger receded. She looked down at her opponent on the ground. Horrified, she saw the point of her unguarded sword under his chin, and a steady trickle of blood dripping from the tip of her weapon to collect in a little pool at the hollow of his throat. "Oh Goddess," she whimpered. The sword fell from her hands as she backed away from Mulder, her horrified eyes never leaving his. He got to his feet a little shakily, wiping the blood from his throat with the back of his hand and breathing deeply to counteract the wave of dizziness that hit him. He bent over with his head down, his hands braced on his knees. "Interesting teaching methods," he gasped. Aldara continued to retreat, shaking her head in terror, tears rolling down her face, until her heel caught in one of the hay bales and she fell heavily against it. Slowly standing upright and finding that the dizziness had passed, Mulder trudged over to her and extended a hand to help her up. "NO!" she screamed, cowering. She threw her arms around her head and curled up in a ball, trembling from head to toe. Mulder stopped. What the hell did *he* do? Obviously, his proximity just made things worse, so he backed off a few feet and sat on the ground, catching his breath. His arms hugged his knees, and he rested his head on them, trying to clear his mind. Mentally he went through his magician's checklist, almost a mantra for him now, to make sure he wasn't inadvertently using his powers. Satisfied that his controls were in place and his power grounded, he sat and rested, hearing Aldara's hysterical sobbing slow and quieten, waiting until she was rational enough to talk. Shakily, angrily, Aldara wiped her face. What was he up to now? Maybe he was plotting. Maybe he would report her negligence to Jourdain, and she would be banished from the only real home she had ever known. Or worse, he would tell Reinald. And then together they would think of a spell so awful - "Aldara, are you all right?" Mulder asked gently. He was on his feet again and walking slowly toward her. "Did I do something wrong, something to upset you?" He sat on a bale a few feet away from her, anxiously scanning her face for any kind of a clue as to what was wrong. Her eyes narrowed. What was this? He actually seemed concerned about her. He definitely wasn't angry - even with her extremely limited sensitivity, she would be able to discern the aura of an infuriated Mage. His aura shimmered a brilliant calm blue, like a lake on a windless summer day. "It was inexcusable," she whispered. "You could have been killed." Mulder nodded. "Did you think I was going to hurt you?" "I was angry, and I wanted to teach you a lesson, and I didn't notice the guard was missing. Then I .... Mages have killed people for far less reason. When you tell Reinald, it may still be so." The terror came back into Aldara's eyes. She watched him closely. Mulder nodded again and considered. He couldn't believe that Reinald would ever deliberately hurt anyone, but her terror was obviously very real. "Okay. Then suppose we keep this our little secret." Anything, to remove the fear from those amazing green eyes. Aldara knew she should be silent and thankful that she had emerged from this incident with her life and limbs intact. But she just couldn't help herself. "Why are you doing this?" "Because it was a mistake and you didn't do it deliberately. Because I don't think it will ever happen again. Because you're Scully's friend. Because you're a damned good teacher, and what you teach us could save our lives someday. Because I don't work that way, I don't do that kind of thing." He shrugged. "Lots of reasons." She sat up, starting to relax a little. "You don't sound much like a Mage. Scully said you were different." He chuckled. "Scully was right. So - better now?" "Your throat - it's still bleeding a little. I-I'm sorry, I really am." He wiped at the blood on his throat again, looked at her and smiled. "I know you are. Don't worry about it, I've done worse myself, shaving." He hesitated for a second. "Do me a favor, though. That's a pretty awe-inspiring temper you have, and it makes me nervous. Don't ever get mad at Scully, okay? In fact, don't get mad at me again, either. If you're annoyed with me, tell me, alright? It's all right, Scully gets annoyed with me all the time." She finally smiled a little, then. Mulder stood and carefully extended his hand. She just as carefully grasped it, as he helped her up. "Same time tomorrow?" Mutely, she nodded. "Okay. Goodbye, Aldara. Thanks for the lesson." Her eyes followed him as he strolled back toward the castle, stopping to look at things which caught his interest on the way. Scully was right. He *was* different. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Scully pushed at the huge wooden door which swung outward onto a pleasant, sunny garden. At the far end of the garden was her destination, a small stone structure - the chamber and workroom of Corvay the Healer. She made her way along the path that wound through the plant beds, noting the confusion of scents emanating from them. The door of the little stone building was wide open and she poked her head inside. "Corvay?" A muffled, distant-sounding voice called, "Enter." Scully walked tentatively into the large but cluttered room, looking around for the owner of the voice. The room was long and narrow, with low ceilings, so low that in some places even Scully's head brushed the rough-hewn dark wood beams. Several cauldrons bubbled purposefully on the huge hearth, sending up clouds of steam. On every surface there were mortars and pots and jars holding creams and powders and elixirs. It looked chaotic, but she expected it was the same kind of chaos as in Mulder's office, where its occupant knew exactly where to lay his hands on everything. "Corvay?" Scully called again. A tiny figure emerged seemingly out of the very floor itself, until Scully noticed the open bulkhead doors which evidently led to some kind of a root cellar. "Sorry, my dear. Just gathering ingredients." He put a burlap sack on the nearest empty place he could find and bustled over to her. "Perhaps we can have some tea and you can tell me all about yourself, hmmm?" Corvay found a couple of low stools under a table and dragged them out, gesturing at Scully to sit. He handed her a mug, then poured one for himself and sat. She inhaled the fruit- scented steam and sipped at the scalding liquid. "Now, I know you are a healer, I can see it in your aura. What training have you had?" The elderly elf smiled expectantly. "I come from...very far away, and our cultures are very different. The healers where I come from have many machines and many, many helpers and other things you don't have. We may have some of the same herbal treatments - I think I noticed foxglove and nightshade in your garden. But for the most part, our healers have different methods. There is no psychic aspect to our healing." "No psychic aspect!" The little healer was plainly shocked. "How does anyone ever get better? How can you repair the whole person - his mind and soul, as well as his body - if that aspect is neglected? How can you remove the cornerstone and not have everything collapse? Gods, how can you even be sure what is wrong, if you don't use your mental energy?" Scully shrugged, feeling she had to defend her world and her profession. "We have developed complex instrumentation to help us diagnose the causes of injury and illness. Most of the time, it works fairly well. In any case, it is the only form of healing we know." "What a strange place you come from," said Corvay, shaking his head. "Healers that don't heal and magicians who never cast a single spell. It would appear then that we have a lot to cover. Thank the gods that your natural psi ability is so high." "Psi ability? I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," Scully said, politely but firmly. "Oh no, no mistake, my dear. You have quite exceptional ability, it's quite clear. I can sense it from quite a distance. I can tell it's untrained - your projections are not very focused - but it is certainly there. Very well, let's begin, shall we?" He bustled over to the table, his long brown tunic dragging on the wooden floor. "Now, let's start with the herbals we have in common, and we'll go from there." For the next half hour or so, Scully wracked her brain for what she remembered from her botany and pharmacology classes. Using quill pen and parchment supplied by the healer, she took careful notes, especially when the lesson proceeded into areas not covered in med school, such as troll toxicology and the allergies common in gargoyles. She was in the middle of such a note when she felt a sudden sense of disorientation. One instant she was sitting with Corvay, the next she was facing Aldara, who, with teeth bared in a ferocious grimace, was taking him/her to the ground with the point of her sword at his/her throat. "Aldara, don't!" Corvay's head snapped up and he looked over to see a very white and shaken Scully. "Sit down before you fall down, Scully, my dear." The healer took her arm and helped her to a stool. "Now, what's the problem?" "I'm okay - it was just for a minute - " " - you were somewhere else, " he continued for her, very matter of factly. "With Mulder, I assume. Everything all right now?" "I - yeah, I think so, I think it is now." Scully took a couple of deep breaths and rubbed her throat thoughtfully. "Quite a demonstration for someone with no psi ability, wouldn't you say?" teased Corvay. Scully gave him a long look, then dropped her head into her hands and didn't answer him. What the hell was going on? She was really starting to doubt her sanity now. "This really is all very new to you, isn't it?' asked the healer, wonderingly. Becoming more distressed by the second, Scully nodded. "It never happened before we came here, and now it keeps happening - all of a sudden I'll be Mulder, or sometimes he'll be me - and it scares the hell out of me! If that's what psi ability does for me, I don't want it!" she shouted. Scully felt like the floodgates were opening - all the misgivings and fears and threats to her beliefs were rushing out in a torrent. She was near tears. "It just happens, there's no controlling it. I know it's Mulder that's in there, and I know we're - we're close. And while there's no one else I'd rather have in my brain, it's *my* brain.... I really don't want *anyone* randomly popping into it! And when I'm in his head, I feel like I'm invading *his* privacy." She was weeping openly now, her tone down to a hoarse whisper. "I shared a nightmare with him the other night, something from his past, something that really happened. I saw so much he hadn't told me, hadn't told anyone because he didn't *want* anyone to know - the terror, the pain, the guilt. Now I know, and he knows that I know. How's that supposed to make him feel? What's that going to do to us, what will that kind of stress do to our relationship? And what if someone other than Mulder gets in there? At least I trust Mulder." She wept, brokenly. "What am I talking about? None of this can be happening. I really don't think I can take too much more of this." The healer took her small hands in his even smaller ones, and probed gently into her mind, mentally soothing, calming and comforting. "First, I believe if you really think about it, you will find it did happen before you came here, but you weren't attuned to it. Or more precisely, you didn't *want* to be attuned to it, so you tried to block it out. It won't work, you know - you still have the gift, no matter how much you may try to ignore it." He released her hands, and smiled. "And you really don't have to worry about anyone else being in your brain other than Mulder. Healers may enter, but we have a very strict ethical code about that kind of thing. These empathic links between you and Mulder.... It's not just your psi ability, there's something else at work here, something specific to the two of you. There's no need to fear for your relationship, as in time you will come to understand. But I can help you learn to control these experiences." Scully was calmer now, and unaware that the healer had helped to instill that state, so gentle was his touch. "How can I control what I'm not sure even exists? You don't understand - this sort of thing goes against everything I've always believed in." "You don't believe in psychic healing, either?" asked the little elf. "Thoughts don't heal people," Scully said firmly. "Thoughts are just - thoughts." "Well, there's thoughts and there's psychic energy and the two are not necessarily the same, but we won't argue over semantics. Someone who demands proof! Very well, let us construct a little experiment, shall we? What happened to your arm?" Scully glanced down. "Oh. Just got a little too close to Aldara's sword. It's nothing, it will heal in a few days." "What if I were to tell you that we - you - will heal it today, right now?" "I'd say that you were crazy," Scully said flatly. The healer laughed. "Very well, we'll see. Will you try this?" "Experimentation is at the very heart of the scientific method. I have no objection to an experiment," agreed Scully. "Good. Get comfortable, and close your eyes. Just listen to me and do as I ask you to do. Are you comfortable?" "Yes. Look - you're not going to hypnotize me, are you? I really don't want that." "If you mean inducing a trance state, no, it's not like that, exactly. I'm just the instruction manual, if you will. I'm just going to tell you what to do, and if you agree, you're going to do it. In no way will you have to reveal yourself, or will you be under my power or anything like that. Now, are you agreed? Ready to proceed?" "What if I change my mind after we've started?" Scully was clearly nervous. "That's all right, you can do that. I don't think you're going to want to, but you may do that if you wish, " Corvay said patiently. Scully took a deep breath. "All right, I'm ready." "Splendid. Try to relax. Place your right hand on your left arm. All right, clear your mind of everything except your arm, the wound in your arm. Picture it. Picture what is going on in your body right now, under your skin, in your veins - the elements of the healing process that are working to close the wound. Visualize them, travelling to the wound. Can you see them, Scully?" Slowly, Scully nodded. As she listened to Corvay's soothing voice, she felt herself beginning to relax. And with the sense of calm, came an odd, yet somehow familiar, sense of inner awareness. "Watch them," Corvay urged gently. "They are moving much too slowly. They need to move faster. Picture them moving more quickly. Make them move faster, will them to move more quickly. Let some of your energy flow from your hand to help them move more quickly. Can your hand feel them, can you see them moving faster?" Again, Scully nodded. She *could* see them, the white cells racing to the site to prevent infection, the skin cells regenerating, faster and faster at her will. She directed them, first here, now there, always more quickly. Finally, from what sounded like a very long way away, she heard "You can let them move more slowly now, you can let them return to rest." "....Scully, open your eyes." She dragged herself back from wherever she had been and looked at the healer, dazed and tired. He was smiling at her. "Look at your arm and tell me I'm crazy." She looked down at her arm. The deep abrasion was gone without a trace. "I did that?" she said, shaken. Corvay nodded. "You did it entirely yourself - all I did was to help you center your thoughts, your energy. The healing you did on your own. Now, this was very simple test, it's usually much more involved, but I think we can call the experiment a success, wouldn't you agree?" "Yes," said Scully absently. "Yes, I guess so." She looked disturbed, more now than she had earlier. "What is it, my dear?" asked Corvay, surprised. He had expected her to be pleased that she had successfully healed the scratch, especially at her first attempt. Her reaction puzzled him. She looked at him, the confusion and pain, almost panic, evident in her eyes. "I need to think about this. Will you please excuse me?" He stood back and watched her trip blindly through the door and out into the garden. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ After his taxing morning with Reinald followed by his workout with Aldara, Mulder had returned to their bedchamber exhausted. Intending to do nothing but sit and relax by the fire, he had felt himself sliding further and further into a state of torpor, finally succumbing entirely. Suddenly he awoke, with a disturbing picture in his mind. But what he saw made no sense. In his mind was an image of a building, a fine tall modernistic skyscraper. Suddenly, the foundation began cracking, mortar and stone crumbling to dust before his eyes. The cracks spread further, higher up, to weaken all the upper stories of the building. More stone and brick started falling from the building, until with an ungodly roar, the whole structure started to collapse in a cloud of dust. And somehow, all of this had a connection with Scully. He tried to quell the rising anxiety he felt. It couldn't be really happening, there were no skyscrapers in this world. A representation, then? A psychic analogy? But for what? He made a conscious effort to relax and make his mind receptive. Gradually, his surroundings changed. They were vague shadows at first, but the images soon became sharper and more defined. He was in a low, crowded room, a room that smelled oddly, with lots of jars and things around. Scully! He saw Scully, and she was with Corvay, and she was upset, near tears. Then, like a door had opened, he heard them speaking, Corvay pleased with the success of some experiment, Scully shaken to her core. A healing experiment, Scully had tried psychic healing and had succeeded. But rather than feeling happy about it, she was confused, lost. All her long held-beliefs were crumbling, and she was too frightened to believe in anything else. Mulder felt her turbulent emotions, her incredible pain, the sense of betrayal, of fear, of being alone. Standing, he saw her stumbling down long stone corridors in emotional agony. He had to get to her. Now. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Almost in a daze, she followed the hallways, taking notice of nothing, her feet moving automatically, stumbling a little over uneven areas in the stone floors. Corridors that don't exist, thought Scully. They *can't* exist. Because if they exist, then everything else does as well. And the magic and the psychic healing and the gargoyles and elves and trolls - none of those can exist, they can't be real. Only science...only science - Scully's vision was blinded by the hot tears welling up in her eyes. Science didn't explain any of this. Therefore, it couldn't be happening, right? She was insane, or must have been slipped some hallucinogenic drug or something. Not much comfort there. Or was science betraying her? Maybe all this existed and science wasn't real, and she had been believing in a lie, living a lie her whole life. Scully's pace quickened, as if she could flee the torment of her thoughts. Oblivious to everything else, she rounded a corner and crashed into some young guards wearing the colors of one of the noble houses. She backed up without really seeing them, mumbled a vague apology, and moved to go around them. "Not so fast, woman," said the tallest one as he roughly grabbed her left wrist. "We are of the House of Dordinal, and you will give us the respect we deserve." His friends muttered encouragement. There were four of them in all, young humans spoiling for trouble. "Look, I'm sorry, it was an accident." Scully's voice had an edge to it, born of the emotional turmoil she had experienced that afternoon. The last thing she needed was a gang of bullies - drunk, by the smell of them - to have to deal with. She attempted to break free of his grasp, but he tightened it, throwing her painfully against the stone wall of the hallway and pinning her there with the weight of his body. He leered down at her. "I don't think you're sorry, you don't sound sorry at all. Whose servant are you, that they let you go about in ripped and dirty clothing and insulting the cream of the House of Dordinal?" The hand not grasping her wrist slid down her face, her neck and continued touching and grabbing at her the length of her body. His friends looked on avidly, calling their support. A little belatedly, Scully's mind turned from the problem of her crumbling belief system and applied itself to the more urgent problem at hand. Coldly, clearly, she said, "I'm only going to say this once. Let go of me and back off now." Her words were greeted with hoots of derision by the his friends, and with furor by the guard holding her. His free hand now went to her throat, squeezing, and he practically spat out, "You will live or die by my pleasure, bitch, and you'll wish you were dead before I'm through." Suddenly, Scully felt an icy anger overwhelm her. Her right hand flashed out to her captor's belt and ripped his dagger from its sheath. She pressed it to his throat. Looking directly into his drunken face and never raising her voice, she said, "I said, let go of me and back...off...now." The other guards were confused for a few seconds, then began to move toward her. Smiling, she pressed on the knife tip, drawing blood, and the guard's eyes grew wide. "Get back! She's a lunatic! She's going to kill me!" The others stopped and began to back away. Suddenly, Scully felt Mulder with her in her mind, frantically trying to find her in the maze of hallways. Mentally she reassured him, and maintained the contact, letting it act as a beacon to draw him to her. "Now," she snarled, never removing the pressure of the dagger tip, "Let's get something straight. I am a guest of the Mage Reinald, and I have travelled here with another Mage. Don't *ever* touch me again. Don't ever lay your hands on *any* woman as you have touched me. One word from me will have two Mages deciding your fate, and your puny imaginations can't even begin to think of the horror they will cast for you. Is that clear?" Most of the young guards backed away at the mention of Reinald's name. The bully who had threatened her was mad with terror. But one of his friends looked at her and sneered to the others, "She's lying, look at her. She doesn't know any Mage. We can take her!" Coolly, a voice said, "I wouldn't try - I've seen her in action, and frankly, I don't think you stand a chance. In fact, I don't think you boys are responsible enough to be around sharp objects right now." He was still for a few a seconds, then suddenly, their swords flew from their sheaths to hang in midair next to Mulder, who leaned against a wall, shield deliberately tuned down to let his mage aura flare, arms crossed negligently in front of him. Four pairs of eyes stared, then four sets of legs pounded away from them down the hallway, stumbling in their panic. Mulder walked over to Scully. "Tough day?" ~ ~ ~ They walked mutely back to their chamber, where Lita had laid the table for a meal neither of them really wanted. They ate a little, out of a sense of duty to Lita and to their stomachs, but sighed with relief when she cleared away the supper things, readied the room for the night, and departed. They moved to the armchairs and sat staring into the fire, lost in their own thoughts, occasionally wondering who would be the first to break the long silence that stretched out between them. "Mulder, I owe you an apology." He looked over at her, startled. Of all the things she could have said, this was the least expected. "What makes you think that, Scully?" he asked softly. She continued to look into the fire. "Because during our entire association, I've been denying what you've shown me, denying what my own eyes have seen. Denying everything because I couldn't explain it using scientific law. I don't know anything anymore, Mulder." She turned to look at him, the pain of her admission reflected in her eyes. "In the last two days, we've seen and experienced things that make anything we've seen before pale in comparison. And I can't explain any of it. I don't know what to believe anymore, what to put my trust in. But I know it's not science." He looked at her with limitless sympathy. "I can't tell you what to believe, Scully. I wish I could. But you have to decide that for yourself. Science explains some things very well. Maybe we don't know enough about science. Maybe we just have to expand its definition a bit; or consider magic the local equivalent of science. It certainly follows a distinct set of rules - or laws - which are determined by experimentation. Goodness knows I've spent enough time memorizing them." He shrugged. "As for why things work one way in our world and another way here, I don't know. Perhaps certain things just *are*. Maybe you should just accept that and move on from there." She sat and thought for some time about what he said, and once again there was silence between them. She sighed. "I had another one today - a vision. What happened between you and Aldara?" "She got angry with me and got a little carried away. You know how I can have that effect on people," he smiled. "Don't worry, it's all straightened out now, everything's fine. I had one too - when you were upset after you did some psychic healing. Congratulations, by the way." Scully nodded. "Yeah.... Well...." She shifted in the chair. "I - ummm - spoke to Corvay about the visions. He seems to think they're a function of my psi abilities and something particular about the two of us that he was very coy about. In any case, he wasn't surprised that we were having them. Mulder, how do you really feel about the visions?" He didn't insult her by giving her an easy, quick answer that he thought she'd find palatable. He considered the question for a long time and answered her honestly. "There are aspects of it I could do without," he admitted. "Don't get me wrong, Scully, if anyone has to be in my head, I'd want it to be you," he said hastily. "But there's things in there I hate looking at, myself. I hate even more the idea of their being inflicted on you." Scully smiled a little. "That's almost exactly what I said to Corvay. It's not so much that what's in there is shocking or disillusioning or whatever. We know each other pretty well...- strengths, weaknesses, bad habits, sex lives - or lack of them. That stuff is minor. It's more the sense of trespass that bothers me. Does that make any sense?" "Perfect sense," he agreed, nodding. "But Scully, I have to tell you. Mostly I don't mind it, in fact I really kind of like it. Today, for the first time, I consciously used this empathic link we seem to share. I was concerned about you and I just reached out and I saw you. It was amazing." His voice was soft with awe and wonder. "Then I came looking for you and I felt like," - he looked at her for confirmation - "like you were reaching out to me. And it made me feel better. And it led me right to you." She nodded. "Yeah, I thought I might need your help with those guards. It was interesting, using the link that way, consciously I mean. Also somewhat ironic, as I was well on the way to convincing myself that it didn't exist." Thoughtfully, she said, "Corvay said we could learn to control it. Presumably he meant to preserve some privacy, or make it a voluntary rather than an involuntary link." Scully sighed. "I guess I feel pretty much as you do. I can certainly see where it would come in handy, as it did today. I can also see where unless we learn to control it, that it could be a terrible invasion, too." She was quiet for a while, her head back against the chair cushion and her eyes closed. "I'm so tired," she said simply. "We'll deal with this better in the morning after some rest. We can both go see Corvay, see what we can do about controlling this. You go ahead and take the bathroom first." Mulder performed what he was beginning to think of as his nighttime duties - checking on the fire, clearing up, extinguishing the torches. He undressed and chose some shorts from the armoire and pulled them on. On his way to the bathroom, he gave Scully a boost into bed. A few minutes later he came out, extinguished the last torch, and got into bed. For a long time they lay with a wide expanse of bed - their no man's land - between them. Consumed and exhausted by their thoughts, they willed their bodies and minds to relax, for sleep to come. Out of nowhere, Mulder thought he heard a tiny voice, so faint as to be almost inaudible, as if it were coming from a locked vault. Lost and alone, the tiny voice pleaded, "Hold me." Did that come from me or from Scully, he wondered. The aching need to hold and to be held grew overwhelming. Now the voice grew stronger, out from behind barriers. "Hold me!" it insisted, demanding to be heard, demanding to be obeyed. They found each other in their no man's land, and found their peace, sleeping soundly in each other's arms. End of Chapter Six Chapter Seven Time passed. For Mulder and Scully the days were filled with what had become a familiar routine. Lesson piled upon lesson, in an almost overwhelming flood of information and skills to be learned. Yet absorbed as they were by the intensive training, they still managed to find time to explore the labyrinthine corridors of the castle, and to make friends among the varied and colorful residents of Fairwood Castle. They soon came to like and respect the beings of the Realm. As the flow of days and nights turned into weeks, Aldara continued to push Scully hard, drilling her for hours on the practice fields. It seemed that no sooner had she mastered one skill, the relentless half-elf would have several more for her to learn, each increasingly more difficult than the last. The soft skin of her hands blistered then hardened into tough calluses, while the untried muscles of her arms and shoulders slowly, achingly strengthened until the unfamiliar weight of the sword became a comfortable extension of her hand. There was no small sense of triumph when out of a combination of frustration and fierce determination, she finally pierced through her instructor's guard for the first time, scraping Aldara's shoulder with the point of her sword. But even more satisfying than the increasing confidence in her own abilities, was the warmth of friendship and understanding that flourished between the dark half-elf warrior and her human pupil. The hours spent in exhausting physical combat training were balanced by the mental challenge provided by the demands of Realm-style healing. At first Scully had been deeply skeptical of Corvay, her scientific training making her suspicious of his spell and herb-based treatments. But doubt had given way to astonishment and fascination, as her own unexpected talent asserted itself. Every sensation of a patient's pain working its way into her body, each successful probe of her mind into the tissues and cells, feeling them respond to the force of her will, increased her desire to learn even more. The disciplines of mind and body complemented each other, new skills building on the previous ones, so that by the end of each long day she would find herself wandering back to the room she shared with Mulder with a mixed sense of accomplishment and bone-deep exhaustion. The long days were no less trying for Fox Mulder. Reinald drove him with ruthless fervor, trying desperately to squeeze a lifetime's worth of learning into a few precious weeks. They progressed in leaps and spurts, interspersed by long hours of frustration as Mulder struggled valiantly to control the Mage- energy that always seemed so close to bursting out of his wavering grasp. Learning the history, rules, and long spell chants was easier, his eidetic memory devoured knowledge at an extraordinary rate. The problem was in translating the intellectual understanding into successful performance - something that can only come with experience, and both men were only too aware that their time was running short. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fox Mulder rested his hands on the top of the stone wall and stared out into the garden. So much of it was familiar, green grass, bright flowers, oak and pine and maple trees. But then, just out of the corner of his eye, there would be an odd combination of colors, a strange shape, an anomaly. Sometimes it would be no more than a purple colored fruit, or a quick glimpse of an elf's pointed ear. Sometimes it would as unnerving as a gargoyle's pointed smile and or a troll's clawed hand. Continuous reminders of just how far from home they were. As dusk turned to night, the stars began to twinkle against the soft black of the sky. Mulder tipped his head back and stared at the unfamiliar constellations, searching yet again for a recognizable configuration of little bright dots. There, perhaps, an overstretched big dipper perhaps, and there just possibly a two- belted Orion. He shook his head, a feeling of intense home- sickness sweeping over him. Would they ever find their way back? "Mulder?" Scully's voice was warm in his ear. He didn't respond as her footsteps brought her to his side. He hadn't needed to hear her voice to know she was behind him, by now he always knew where she was. It was like having a part of himself walking around separate, and yet not separate. As she came to stand next to him, her head tilted upwards toward him, her auburn hair slipping down over her shoulders in a riot of color. "The stars are different." Mulder finally angled his head to look down at her. "Have you noticed that, Scully?" "Yes," she replied. "But it's the two moons that always surprises me." Mulder nodded, and turned to stare back up at the sky. Scully watched him in silence, admiring the way the long, dark blue tunic graced the lean strength of his body. The wind stirred up tendrils of his dark hair, which he had been letting grow out of its FBI-standard short cut. She loved how the sharp planes and angles of his face were defined by the dim light, the hollows lining his high cheekbones and the determined thrust of his jaw. His dark hazel eyes were turned away from her now, searching the sky for the answers it refused to supply. "We'll get home." Scully spoke with a confidence she didn't feel. He just shrugged his shoulders. No use in going over it again, the hopeless round of questions without answers. There was simply no assurance that the Vortex would ever open to their world again, even if Reinald tried to influence it. Apologetic as he had been, the mage could make no promises that he could direct the portal successfully; the attempt that had brought them through had been more chance than expertise. And given that one portal opening was tuned to the Dark Realm, would it even be safe to try? Beyond that, there remained the question of whether they could abandon this Realm to its fate, thereby failing to aid the beings who were quickly becoming their friends. Neither Mulder nor Scully could find any easy solutions. "Yes, of course we will." Mulder spoke the words as if by saying them he could simply make it so. A small voice inside him said that he would make it work, at least for Scully. He was going to see her home safe, if he had to die trying. As if she had read his thoughts, and perhaps she had, Scully reached out to grasp his arm. "The operative word there is 'we,' Mulder. No more 'drawing the line' for me. I'll draw my own, and the first one is that, whatever happens to us, we handle it together. Leave me and I'll find you and kick your ass, even if I have to go through ten Vortexes to do it." Mulder laughed, and placed his hand over hers. "I'd never even think about it, Scully. I've seen you handle a sword." A sudden image flashed in front of his eyes from their practice swordfight just a few days before. This beautiful woman, now dressed in a flowing blue gown, her hair curled into soft ringlets, had then been standing triumphant over his prone body, the point of her sword unerringly aimed at his throat. Her lips raised in a half-snarl, her blue eyes had glittered down at him from a flushed and dusty face, her breath coming in short gasps as she recovered from the fury of the swordplay. His greatest surprise hadn't been losing to her, which he had done many times before, it had been the sudden realization that she had never looked more gloriously lovely, more truly, dominantly herself, than she did in that very moment, despite all the dirt and sweat and disheveled clothes. Of course, that hadn't stopped him from giving her a literal shock of his own. Closing his eyes in apparent surrender, he had sent a wave of magical energy up the sword, turning the metal hotter and hotter until she dropped the glowing silver metal with a cry of dismay. He wasn't likely to ever forget the flash of fury in her eyes as she realized what he'd done, even though it had disappeared in a rapid wave of mirth, as she laughingly accused him of cheating. "And don't forget it!" she challenged him lightly, jolting him out of his reverie. A smile hovering on the edge of his lips, he didn't bother to reply. Instead he stood staring down into her eyes, suddenly held spellbound by one of those flashes of communion, those rare but consuming instants in which they were bound in total understanding. They froze in place, minds melding, as bright images burned into their brain, each seeing him/herself as though looking through the other's eyes. "Is that how I look to him/her?" they thought simultaneously, a flood of emotions threatening to break the dam of self-control each had so carefully built. Scully unconsciously leaned up against Mulder as he bent his head down to hers, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss so sweet it brought tears to her eyes. She responded avidly, pressing her body up against the heat of his, sighing deep in her throat. For a long precious moment, they savored the touch and feel of each other, only to have the enchantment broken as his mouth found the salty drops on her cheeks. "Dana," he breathed her name, his eyes finding hers as he gently stroked her cheek. She saw the fear and anxiety deepen in his expression, turning the diamond-like color of his eyes into coal. She shook her head slightly, not able to find the words to express what she was feeling, and just as quickly as it had come, the instant of empathy faded and was gone, leaving them shaken and confused in its aftermath. They remained clasped in each other's arms, neither willing to make the first move for several endless uncomfortable seconds. Then with a deep breath, Mulder stepped back away from her. Holding his left hand out between them, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. In no more than a blink of an eye, a small glowing sphere of blue light appeared in the palm of his hand. A flick of his wrist sent it spinning upwards to float a few inches above his shoulder. Smiling in satisfaction, he looked down at Scully who was watching him with a mixture of amusement and rueful amazement. "Would you like to take a walk in the garden, my Lady?" He bowed gracefully at the waist, then held out his arm for her. Scully let out a bright peal of laughter as she took his proffered elbow, deeply relieved and delighted to have the uncomfortable silence broken by his irreverent good humor. "I'd love to, kind sir" she replied. Together they walked around the stone wall and down the path, their way lit by the small blue globe floating a few inches above their heads. In the shadows under a large oak, a small brown figure watched them walk by, the small vibrant woman leaning happily against her taller male companion. Totally absorbed in each other, neither noticed their silent observer, innocently unaware of the jealous rage stirring in his heart. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Mirta bounced on the hay in her parent's wagon. "Market Day! Market Day!" The little troll was so excited. She loved going to the big human village with its bright colors, bustle and activity, and above all its stalls filled with food of all kinds. Last month her mother had bought her a fancy pastry with crumbly bread surrounding a spicy meat filling. Her stomach growled just at the thought, while she leaped even higher into the air, laughing as she fell down hard into the soft hay. At her mother's warning glance, she settled down in the wagon, giggling with joy. ~ ~ ~ From the edge of the forest, the green-scaled Hunter scout eyed the little troll with hunger boiling in its belly. She would make no more than a couple of mouthfuls, a sweet-tasting appetizer, but her parents would make a full meal. Gearing up on its powerful hind legs, it poised itself to attack. ~ ~ ~ Market Day at Wide River village was an important event in the western region of Fairwood Domain, happening only once a moon-cycle. Beings of all species flocked to the little town with wagons full of wares and goods. By dawn, the central green was already crowded with little stalls, filled with everything from fruits and vegetables to linen, cutlery, weapons and livestock. The air filled with a wide variety of appetizing smells, laughter and bargaining, children's voices raised in play. Elves bargained with trolls, and gargoyles with humans, trading a gleaming silver knife for a hand-crafted pot, a painstakingly embroidered shirt for a rare set of spices, bread for meat. Amid the bustle and hustle, children darted in and out, chasing each other in an elaborate variety of games. It was into the middle of this semi-organized chaos that the troll family's wagon, bobbling on a broken axle, was dragged by a pair of snorting, wild-eyed horses. "Henon, Watch out!" screamed a young gargoyle, grabbing her brother's hand to yank him out of the way of the rearing, bloodied horses as they raced panic-stricken into the busy marketplace. People scattered out of the way as hay and vegetables spilled from the damaged wagon. Finally crashing head-first into a food stand, the horses squealed and reared up onto their hind legs, front hooves clawing the air in terror, coming to halt amid a mess of spilled stew and rolling loaves of bread. One small object rolled out of the wagon to come to halt at the feet of a young elven girl, her white-blond hair bound into two long braids behind her pointed ears. Reaching automatically to pick it up, her skin turned a pale white as a stunned gasp of fright escaped her lips. Taking a huge lung full of air, she let out a horrific screetch. "Hunters," she cried in sudden comprehension. "Hunters! Hunters! Hunters!" Almost simultaneously, the tower watch echoed her cries, alarm drums sounding in a frantic, staccato beat. No one wasted a moment in response. Pandemonium broke loose as mothers grabbed children, brothers grabbed sisters, men reached for swords and knives and spears. A thousand voices yelled at once as stalls full of goods, dishes and linens, vegetables and jewelry, bread, and tools were abandoned. As the last door was slammed and bolted, the town gate swung shut with a bang, leaving only a determined line of armed men fiercely eyeing the road from whence the wagon had come. In the deserted marketplace, amid the scattered breads and dusty trails of stew, the small object lay still and abandoned on the ground: the ripped and bloody hand of a young troll. The villagers fought valiantly, the men fighting desperately to protect their families and homes. But inch by inch, death by death, the pack of Hunters devoured their way closer to the village. In the center of the pack were a pair of Destroyers, their twisted, half-human, half-lupine faces sneering in a mockery of pleasure as they watched each man stumble and fall, surrounded by the eternally hungry Hunters. One Destroyer leaned down off its mount and wrenched the arm off a half-devoured, still living man, laughing as the human convulsed in voiceless agony. The Destroyer leaped on ahead, brandishing the severed arm like a trophy, only to be struck in the face with a blast of blue flame. Standing on the roof of the gate tower, the village Mage braced himself, and drawing on every last bit of energy he had, he let loose one more blue thunderbolt, this time striking the twisted dark-clad figure in the center of his chest. With a roar of agonized rage, it fell backwards from its mount, an unrecognizably horrible beast with the face of a wolf and the body of a lizard. Startled by the sudden loss of its master, the beast reared up, clawing the air, while its barely humanoid rider scrambled to his feet. From his perch on the top of the village gate-tower, Bradnor gathered the shreds of his shield around himself, anticipating a counter-attack from the now upright Destroyer. The cloak fell back from the creature's face, revealing cold yellow eyes and pointed fangs. Bradnor braced himself as it cursed vehemently in a raspy voice and directed a gnarled hand with long, pointed fingers at him. A black, roiling whirlwind appeared as the Destroyer snarled out a series of unintelligible syllables, spinning toward the young, terror-sticken Mage, excreting a appalling stench. Falling down into the center of a sticky web that inexorably tightened upon his mind and body, the village Mage closed his eyes and threw his remaining life's energy into a desperate call for help. Even as the sticky filaments ate into his flesh like acid, his mind fought its way loose, abandoning his doomed body, ranging across the Realm in search of a mind strong enough to hear his call. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fox Mulder swung the sword sideways, determined that this time he was going to beat Aldara without having to resort to magic. His small, quick opponent leapt forward, her sword flashing in the sun as it weaved an intricate dance, nearly striking him in the center of his chest. But he was ready for it. Leaping sideways, he brought his sword down in an arch on her extended arm, hitting her forearm with the flat of the blade. "Got you...." he crowed. His voice trailed off as the sudden weight of another's mind came crashing down upon him. His weapon clattering to the ground, Mulder clutched at his throbbing temples as he was deluged with a vivid series of nightmarish images: a creature from his worst nightmare waving the bloody stump of a human arm, lizard-like creatures with stubby wings and long jaws spitting fire at a small group of men defending themselves with swords and pitchforks, a spinning black spider web closing in on him, tightening on his limbs, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Aldara's words of praise and challenge stopped in mid- flow as Mulder collapsed to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. She rushed forward to grab hold of him, but he pushed her away with trembling hands, mage energy sending blue currents up and down his body. As sparks shot out into the air, the sky grew thick and dark. A bolt of lightning struck Mulder's forgotten sword in a brilliant flash of light, sending Aldara scurrying backwards away from the trembling, senseless Mage. Water drained from a boiling gray mass of clouds, turning the dusty practice field into a sea of mud. In its center a tall, slender figure slowly pulled himself to his feet and with a sobbing cry stretched up his arms toward the sky. Blue fire lanced around those arms, flames spurting out into the rain, throwing an eerie blue gleam over the scene. Lightning raced through the atmosphere, then gathered and flowed downwards twining itself around the blue-glazed man who stood alone. Bitter laughter echoed as he tossed bolts of blue and white power up at the menacing clouds, causing them to scatter and break, froth and rage. Lightning bounced up and down, creating a blinding firestorm of light. Rain fell in thick sheets, shimmering curtains of water lit by brilliant rays of light, eminating outward in strobe-like fashion from the seemingly frail body standing upright at the center of the hurricane. The Mage- storm grew in intensity until it crashed inward on itself, exploding currents of blue-tinged air gushing outwards to flatten everything in their path. Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. Aldara picked herself up off the ground wearily, automatically checking to see if any bones had been broken. Then eyeing the motionless man - Mage - standing drenched and mud-stained several feet away, she was hit by a sudden desire to run as far and fast as she could. What on earth had she thought she was doing, playing sword master to a Mage of such power? One wrong move and he could blast her from this world with no more than a casual thought. She had been a fool to let a warm smile and friendly good humor blind her to what he truly was. Terrified and angry, she turned to leave, when the sound of a body hitting the ground in a splashing thud caught her attention, and despite herself she turned to look. Mulder had collapsed in an awkward pile of limbs, his face pressed down into a puddle of mud, his legs splayed out at uncomfortable angles. She took one step towards him, then halted, then took another, then halted again. Finally cursing her own foolhardy stupidity, she rushed over to his side, pulling his head up to rest in her lap. "MULDER!" Nearly tumbling down into the mud as she ran across the soaked field, Scully slid down beside her unconscious partner and shoved Aldara aside, too upset to even notice her as more than an obstacle. Perfectly willing to hand Mulder over to Scully, Aldara wiggled backwards, gasping in surprise as a big hand closed around her arm and effortlessly pulled her to her feet. Her eyes flashing upwards, hands automatically moving into a defensive posture, she abruptly relaxed she found herself staring into the worried face of Captain Jourdain. "What happened?" he asked, even as the blue-robed figure of Mage Reinald rushed past them both to kneel down beside Scully and Mulder. "I don't know," Aldara replied, trying to rub some of the muck off her face with an equally dirty hand. "One minute we were practicing, and he was doing well. The next he just collapsed. Then he started throwing Mage-energy like a child throwing hoopballs. I've never seen so much power, I thought he was going to burn himself alive!" Jourdain held the small half-elf close, his large hands nearly spanning her waist. "Just thank the Gods he didn't burn *you* alive." "No," Reinald interrupted, from his position below their feet. "Mulder would never do anything to hurt you, Aldara. He was just taken by surprise. The village of Wide River was attacked by a pack of Hunters led by two Destroyers. The village Mage sent out a cry for help, just as he was dying. Mulder received the brunt of it because I was heavily shielded in my workroom, testing out a very precise spell. I think Mulder was overwhelmed by being mind-linked to the other Mage at the very moment he died. Mulder's mind may believe it died too, and that belief could be enough to convince his body as well." Jourdain stared Mulder's prone figure, being rocked gently by Scully, in shocked sympathy. Aldara felt a deep pang of guilt twist her belly, as she turned in Jourdain's grasp to look down at the injured Mage with tear-filled green eyes. As though divining her thoughts, Jourdain's deep voice whispered in her ear, "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done for him, even if you had known what was happening." "I know," Aldara replied in a barely audible voice, "but..." But she had let her fear and hatred of the Mage-talent blind her to an innocent man's pain. How could she have been coward enough to even consider abandoning him? The depth of her shame made her body stiffen in Jourdain's grasp. Misinterpreting her response, Jourdain abruptly released her, chiding himself for being so forward with one of his sub- officers, especially one who was also a beautiful woman. He was a middle-aged soldier who had already buried one wife. What could a woman of such strength and grace see in an oaf like him? He was a fool to even be thinking about her that way. Pushing his way past her, he kneeled down in the mud beside Reinald. Aware only of the man laying senseless in her arms, Scully was close to panicking. "Snap out of it, Mulder!" she yelled at him, hoping to force a response, but he lay still and silent in her lap. Smoothing the wet bangs back off his forehead, she checked his pulse, relieved to feel it racing under her fingertips. Then she pulled back an eyelid, only to find his pupil dilated and unresponsive. "Dammit, Mulder, answer me," she cried, clutching him against her as her mind searched for a way to help him. A fierce hatred for the Realm and its total lack of modern medical facilities flowed through her. Herbs may be good for healing a fever, or psychic influence good for knitting a bone, but those were no consolation now. Blinded by a flood of tears, she brushed at her offending eyes with the back of her arm, smearing streaks of brown sludge across her face. A strong hand took hold of her arm, and she shoved it away without looking up. "Scully," a deep-throated male voice insisted. "Let us help." Scully glared up at Jourdain, biting off the angry words when she saw the very real concern in his eyes. "We need to get him somewhere warm" she said, forcing the words out through a veil of grief and fury. "Better send someone for Corvay." "I'll go!" Aldara offered, turning on her heels and racing for the castle even as she spoke. Finding the elven healer was something she could do and while it was not much in the way of making amends for her uncharitable - and cowardly - thoughts, it was at least a start. Scully didn't want to let go of Mulder, even for the few minutes it would take to carry him into the castle, but she knew they had to get him out of the cold mud and into a warm bed, especially if he was in shock. Reluctantly releasing her partner into the two men's hands, she struggled to her feet. Jourdain slipped his hands under Mulder's shoulders and lifted him up into his arms, even as Reinald cast a simple levitation spell. Together, Scully, Reinald and Jourdain guided the floating body across the grounds and into the castle. ~ ~ ~ Corvay and Aldara caught up with them as they entered Mulder and Scully's bedroom. Heedless of the effect of the mud on the satin coverlet, Reinald and Jourdain slowly lowered Mulder onto the bed. Yanking out the platform with a muttered curse, Scully clambered up onto the bed, squatting down beside Mulder. Corvay was only seconds behind her. Sitting down next to her, he reached out to touch the unconscious man's forehead. Closing his eyes, the Healer tried to push through the curtain of darkness to reach Mulder's mind, but he was thwarted again and again. Each time he began to make contact, he was forced out by a dark web of fibers which stung at his mind. Finally Corvay pulled back, grimacing. "I can't get through," he said, his voice tight with frustration and sadness. "It's like there's something in there blocking me. Every time I get close, I'm pushed out. I'm not sure if it's him, or something else." "What do you mean you can't get in? You *have* to!" Scully cried, her eyes flashing fire as she glared at Corvay. "I'm blocked out," Corvay repeated, eyeing her with saddened empathy. "Unless he can find his own way out, I'm not sure there's anything we can do." "There may not be anything *we* can do," Reinald interjected from the foot of the bed. "But I think there's something *you* can do, Scully." She spun around to face the white-haired Mage, hope warring with panic. "What?" she demanded. "You may be able to reach him in a way no one else can. Through the lifebond." "The what?" she questioned hurriedly, wishing he'd stop wasting precious time with his magical mumbo-jumbo. "Just tell me what to *do*!" Reinald sighed. Why did it not surprise him that Mulder had not told Scully about the lifebond? "Just reach out to him with your mind. Focus on your feelings for him, how much you love him, need him. Demand that he respond to you." It certainly wasn't hard to focus on her feelings for the usually frustrating, always challenging man she'd come to respect and trust more than any other living human being. A small voice inside her whispered 'Respect?' 'Trust?' Isn't 'Love' closer to the truth?' She shut it down fiercely, reaching out to take Mulder's hand between both of hers. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember everything Corvay had taught her about contacting the minds of their patients. Taking a series of deep breaths, she struggled to find her center, her need to help Mulder warring with the almost overwhelming tide of emotions raging through her. Finally forcing herself into an unsteady sense of calm, she decided it would have to be enough. Using a part of her mind she still did not understand, she stretched out her awareness, sending a stream of herself up through her hands, through the contact of her skin with Mulder's, up and up, towards the center of his awareness. A sharp gasp of pain whistled through her tightly clamped lips as she hit a heavy black barrier. Each probe at it sent a series of painful shocks rippling back down the connection, making her body shudder. But she had no intention of giving up. Gathering up her strength, she pulled back, drew and held a lungful of air, and pushed with all her might. Not realizing she screamed it aloud, she heard her inner voice cry out his name as she finally shattered the barrier and fused her mind with his. Suddenly, she was caught up in a whirlwind of nightmarish sights and sounds. Fire burned at her/his senses, causing her/him to cry out in pain. Creatures more terrifying than their worst nightmare crowded in on them, tearing at them, ripping their flesh apart. A stench so horrible it made their stomachs convulse filled their nostrils, a whining screech like a thousand nails scraping a blackboard assaulted their ears. Their minds connected into one entity, he/she plummeted through a vortex of gale-force winds, tumbling down into deep black nothingness. "Nnnooo!" she/he screamed. "Mulder/Dana!" his/her voice cried out. "Here...here...here," came the echo in response, each asking and replying in the same instant. "Lost...dying...no...fight..." each thought was bounced back and forth between the two halves of the whole, one's thoughts becoming the other's in the very moment the ideas were formed. Finally, moving in total unison, the joint consciousness struggled to find its way out of the darkness, each person's determination feeding off the other's until only one thought dominated the mind: to find the light again. It seemed to take an eternity, the darkness pressing in on them, shoving them down into the mouth of a monster, taking back an inch for every two gained. But finally, in one last desperate thrust, they burst back out through the dark curtain and into the light of day. Their minds twining around each other for a final precious moment, they shattered apart. As an edge of light filtered through screwed-tight eyelids, Scully gulped for breath, feeling her lungs ache in protest. Below her, Mulder let out a choking gasp, his body jerking like it had been hit with an electric shock. Corvay caught the exhausted woman just as she began to wobble, and ever so gently placed her down by Mulder's side. Together, hands still clasped tightly together, they slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep. ~ ~ ~ Reinald stirred in the chair, and forced himself to take another swallow of the lukewarm tea. Jourdain was stretched out in the other chair, staring deep into the fire, his craggy features set and cold. The weary magician stretched and stood up to take another glance at the man and woman still sound asleep on the bed. No change, which was perhaps for the best. They would have all too much to face the next morning. At least Reinald had finally been able to dispel the remainder of the Destroyer's enchantment which had buried its way into Mulder's mind along with Bradnor's dying soul. Once that tangled skein of evil had been cleared away, Corvay had been able to reach into both Mulder and Scully's minds, settling them into a healthy healing trance. Hopefully, they would awaken in a few hours, minds recovered, at least partially, from the battle they had just barely won. "Do you think that this is wise?" Jourdain's throaty whisper startled Reinald; his hand jolted abruptly, a few drops of tea spilling out onto his wrist. Reinald turned and went back to his chair, placing the cup on the table and rubbing the splattered liquid into his already dirt-stained robe. "No, it probably isn't wise. But I don't think we have any choice. The Time is upon us, my old friend, and like it or not, the prophecy will out." "How do you know you won't be sending them to an early grave?" Jourdain countered, always skeptical of metaphysical mutterings, even one as ancient - and increasingly fulfilled - as the old prophecy. "They can hardly help us save the Realm if they get killed by a couple lousy Destroyers." "I know." Reinald closed his eyes in anguish. "I'd Gate there myself, but I've never been to Wide River and we don't have a living Mage on the other end to help create the Gate. I just can't afford to leave the Prince for the amount of time it will take to ride there by horseback. Besides, it's not much safer for Mulder and Scully here. They need the chance to use their skills, or the training is meaningless. Bottom line - the poor beings out there need help. Now." Jourdain nodded, he couldn't argue with that. But it still felt like they were sending a pair of children into battle. For all of the foreign couple's strengths, they seemed almost innately innocent at times. Perhaps that was just a factor of their unfamiliarity with this world, but he couldn't help being bothered by it. Nonetheless, Reinald had a point. The way things were going, there soon wouldn't be a safe place for anyone. Though most people would have been unable to see anything other than the carefully-schooled calm on the soldier's rugged features, Reinald knew his friend well enough to read the conflict in his eyes. "They may actually be safer out there than here in the castle," he added, hoping to further convince the doubtful Captain to accept this decision. "There's something wrong here. I can't bring it into focus, but I have a sense of something about to happen here, something evil focused on Mulder and Scully. We both know that rumors are flying around the council about those two and the prophecy. Everyone is terrified and uncertain - fertile ground for our enemies to strike from within. I'm afraid there may be an attempt on their lives." "Gods' blood!" Jourdain swore vividly, rising to his feet in a surprisingly graceful motion for a man of his large size. "I wish that surprised me more than it does." He shook his head in disgust as he walked over to peer down at the sleeping couple. He stood in silence for a moment, watching them intently, his mind in turmoil. But despite his misgivings, the truth of the mage's words was clear. With a sinking feeling in his heart, Jourdain turned back towards the seated Mage, his face drawn, but resigned. "All right. We leave at dawn." End of Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Mulder watched Scully as she tightened the girth in her saddle. She was dressed in a green leather tunic and brown leggings, her small feet encased in knee-high leather boots of the same forest green as her tunic. Her hair, which had grown a few inches over the past months was braided and coiled into a fiery knot at the back of her head. Her sword hung down the length of her back, its strap stretched tight between her breasts. She looked calm and confident, almost as though she were preparing to investigate a crime back home. Trade the tunic for a dark blue suitcoat, the sword for a gun, and she could have been back in the office. The problem was that they weren't at home. Heaven only knew what would be facing them at the end of the long two- day ride to the West. From what little Mulder remembered from his mind-link with Bradnor, this could be far worse than anything they had faced before. He wished there was a way to keep her from going, but he also knew better than to even suggest the idea to her. She'd be furious, and selfish though it seemed to him, he needed - no, wanted - her by his side. Quite simply, there was no one in this, or any universe, whom he trusted to watch his back the way he trusted his partner. "Almost ready, Scully?" he forced himself to ask calmly, as though they were about to take a walk in the park. At the sound of his voice, she turned to look up at him. He was dressed in a dark brown version of the ever-present tunic, over a white shirt, black leggings, and black leather boots. His sword was dangling precipitously from his left hand, its leather guard scraping the dusty ground. His eyes were bright with excitement, and a very familiar concern. She knew full well he was worried about bringing her into this, but was grateful he had enough respect for her to leave it unspoken. "Yes," she answered. "Just need to finish packing my saddlebags. Better not let Aldara catch you treating that with such disrespect," she pointed at the wayward weapon. Mulder sighed and nodded, lifting it up to slide the strap over his shoulder. "It feels funny on my back, I can't help thinking that I'm going to stab myself in the butt." Scully laughed, reaching out to readjust the strap against his chest. "It won't if you wear it in the right position," she chided with a grin. ~ ~ ~ Partially hidden by the supply horse he was loading on the other side of the barn, Grejor watched them with a sullen, bitter expression. His angry eyes focused on Scully's smiling face, he piled one too many bags on top of the horse, and the small bundle toppled off the other side of the restless animal. With an exaggerated sigh, the unhappy apprentice walked around the horse to pick it, only to find Drellor handing it out to him with a friendly smile. "Hello Mage-Apprentice Grejor," the roly-poly Prince said. "You must be sorry to see them go. I'm sure you learned a lot from the foreign Mage." "Yeah, sure," Grejor replied unconvincingly, grabbing the bundle from Drellor and turning to try again to load it on the horse's back. "Well, at least you'll be able to get back to your studies. You must be close to earning your Mage's blue by now." Grejor chatted easily, his eyes carefully reading every nuance of the young man's expression. "Sure, soon enough." Grejor's voice was shakily optimistic, but the set line of his mouth belied the relaxed tone. "Reinald has just been a little busy lately." "Why, of course!" Drellor responded as though he had just made an important discovery. "What with the sudden visit by his foreign friends, and his responsibilities as Regent, he must be quite busy." He shook his head, the rolls of fat under his chin wiggling. "It must be hard for you to compete with the young Prince for Reinald's time. It's too bad for you, though. You'd think he'd plan more carefully to give you the time you need. It is his responsibility." Grejor peered at Drellor suspiciously, but was met only with warm concern. Suddenly all the resentment and jealousy that had been slowly building in him burst out. He poured it all out, how Reinald had completely forgotten him in favor of Mulder, relegating him to fetching and carrying. How Mulder and Scully were 'together' yet he was expected to spend his life alone studying. How his chance at earning the Mage's blue had been postponed, perhaps by moon-cycles, while Reinald trained a fool like Mulder who hadn't even known how to build his own shield; how Reinald would spend hours with the Prince, but had no time for his own apprentice; how.... Throughout the young man's tirade, Drellor kept bobbing his head in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. The only evidence of his delight was the sparkle in small round eyes. Behind the paternal exterior, his clever mind was racing, examining every possible use of this situation. If he played his cards just right, the resentful student-Mage could prove to be very useful to his plans. Very useful, indeed. ~ ~ ~ Finally packed and as fully prepared as they felt they would ever be, Mulder and Scully led their horses out of the barn to join Jourdain, Aldara and the remainder of the small company. Grejor led the two pack horses after them, surrendering the burdened animals over to one of the heavily-armed soldiers. Tarnor was already astride his smaller pony, its long white tail and mane waving in the breeze. Mulder winced slightly at the sight of his welcoming grin. As much as he liked and trusted the little gargoyle, those sharp, jagged teeth caused an instinctive recoil from the taller human. "Ready to go?" Jourdain walked over beside them, giving them a quick once over. They appeared to be prepared, though Mulder's sword was still a bit cockeyed, and Scully looked tiny and frail next to large horse. But their faces were calm and serious, their stances tense and controlled. "Yes," Mulder and Scully both nodded. "Good." Jourdain replied, angling around to give his soldiers a quick hand signal, indicating they should mount their horses. Then he looked back at the two foreigners. "Aldara will be leading," he instructed. "She knows the area better than anyone. I'll be in the rear. Scully, you stay close to Aldara, and Mulder, you'd better stay in the middle with Tarnor. It's nearly a full days ride to Horse's Run Inn. We'll stop briefly at noon to eat, spend the night at the Inn, then it should be close to another day's ride to Wide River." Jourdain gave them one more look- over, then grimaced. No use putting this off any longer. "Let's go." He returned to his horse, taking the reins from Aldara, then leaped into the saddle in one fluid, practiced motion. Mulder gave Scully a hand up into her saddle, then started to clamber up into his. "Wait, Mulder!" Reinald came running up behind them, his long blue robe flying out behind him, white hair nearly standing on end. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to come see us off," Mulder said with a teasing lilt in his voice. Reinald smiled as he came up beside the tall dark man. "I almost forgot something important," he replied holding out a large dark-blue bundle of cloth to Mulder. "You better wear this." "What is it?" Mulder questioned, taking the woolen garment and spreading it out over his arms. "A Mage-cloak like mine. Actually, you should have been wearing one already, but since you were in training, and everyone in the castle knew you were a foreigner, I thought you could manage without one. However, beyond the Fairwood grounds you should wear this at all times. It is both a symbol and a warning, a mark of both authority and responsibility. The white lining signifies your allegiance to the light, the depth of the blue the strength of your power." Reinald sighed unhappily. "Normally, the robe is conferred with an elaborate ceremony. I do not like having to just hand it to you like this, but we do not have the time to spare." "That's okay," Mulder replied, shrugging his shoulders. The cloak felt warm and soft against the skin of hands. "I never cared much for ceremonies." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It'll make a great blanket if we get stuck on the road." "Mulder!" Reinald protested, then shook his head. No use arguing with his protégé's irreverent humor. He knew just how serious Mulder could be when he felt the situation warranted it, so let him enjoy himself now. There were likely to be few reasons for mirth in the upcoming days. Several of the other observers weren't quite so accepting, their expression ranging from Aldara's look of surprise to Grejor's sullen resentment. Scully just sighed. Mulder had a gift for being annoyingly disrespectful of protocol, no matter where or when. "Put it on, Mulder. We need to get going," Scully urged, impatient to get on the road, already dreading the long ride ahead. "Okay." Mulder yanked the sword off his shoulders, handing it over to Reinald. He arranged the cloak over his shoulders, then fumbled for a way to fasten it. "Here," Reinald said, giving Mulder back his weapon. He reached up to find a small button on the inside of the collar. After Reinald had finished adjusting the cloak, Mulder put the sword back on, then turned to contemplate getting on the horse, cloak, sword and all. "This looks so much easier in the movies," he grumbled. The only one who could make sense of the reference, Scully laughed. "You're the magician. Levitate yourself." Mulder flashed her a brilliant smile, as he accepted the light challenge in her voice. "All right." Closing his eyes, he concentrated for a moment, his brow crinkling into a familiar set of lines. Ever so slowly, he rose up into the air, then turned sideways and settled himself smoothly down into the saddle. He would have completed the levitation perfectly, if he hadn't misjudged the reaction of the horse to having someone float in the air above it. Snorting, it pulled to the side just enough to have Mulder hit its back at angle, sliding off to his left. Yelling his annoyance, Mulder grabbed for the horse's mane and only barely kept himself from tumbling to the ground. The horse reared up, then down, as its would-be rider clung on for dear life. Finally managing to pull himself into an upright position, Mulder glared at Scully, as everyone else tried to stifle their laughter. "Good try, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "Yeah right. Next time I'll levitate you!" he threatened, still trying to adjust himself into a comfortable position. "No thanks" she replied with a sweet smile, nudging her horse forward to pull up beside Aldara. Mulder playfully stuck out his tongue at her back, then couldn't help relaxing into a grin and joining in the general amusement, even if it was at his expense. As Jourdain gave the signal to go, Reinald grabbed onto Mulder's leg. Mulder leaned down to hear the Mage's whispered words. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to prepare you for this. Remember to center and watch your shield." Reinald's blue eyes clouded with worry. "And be careful!" Mulder's eyes darkened as he nodded. "I will." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It was a perfect day for a ride, Scully had to admit as she guided her horse in an easy trot beside Aldara. Only a few whisps of white cotton floated in a perfect blue sky. The air was warm with a slight cooling breeze, and the road was lined with the vivid colors of the forest: the green and brown of the trees and the bright rainbow colors of the flowers. She drew in a deep breath of clear, untainted air and smiled with pleasure. Aldara caught her companion's smile and returned it briefly. Then her face settled into a frown. "What is it?" Scully asked concerned. Aldara considered for a moment, then angled her head back toward Mulder who was chatting easily with Tarnor and one of the soldiers, the velvet warmth of his laugh echoing in the air. "I don't understand him. He doesn't act like a Mage, he doesn't act like anyone I've ever met." Her emerald eyes were wide with confusion. Scully couldn't help laughing, which only increased Aldara's perplexity. "I'm sorry, Aldara," Scully said. "It's just that Mulder..." she turned her head to glance back at her partner. "Mulder never acts like anyone else. He's utterly and completely unique. I know him better than anyone, and he still manages to surprise me." The taciturn half-elf considered that for moment, then grinned at her friend. "That must make for an interesting life." "Yeah," Scully responded, "Sometimes a little too interesting." They shared a look of total understanding, then focused back on the road ahead, riding comfortably side-by-side. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ By the time they rode into the Inn courtyard, everyone was exhausted, dusty and hungry. Mulder and Scully were both uncomfortably aware that a couple of hours a day of riding practice had not fully prepared them for the rigors of spending an entire day in the saddle. Scully's back and legs ached intensely, every position she'd tried in the last couple of hours as painful as the others. Mulder was equally sore, the muscles in his thighs complaining fiercely. He was dreading trying to get down and walk. Aldara caught both their looks of discomfort and shared an amused glance with Jourdain. Good thing she'd brought some linament with her, those two were going to need it. The clatter of the horse's hooves on the gravel brought a couple of young boys, both with shoulder-length blond hair, brown eyes, and elven pointed ears. Excited, they ran forward to take the reins from Aldara and Scully, leading the horses into the nearby stable. Mulder gratefully handed over his horse to the young soldier he'd been talking with on their ride and wandered over to the women, grunting as he rubbed at his sore back. Jourdain let his four men take the rest of the horses into the barn and headed for the inn. He was met at the doorway by the innkeeper, a larger version of the boys: short but well- muscled. The older elf was dressed in a bright mix of colors, bright red pants under a red, green, blue, and yellow vest and a white shirt. Around his belly he wore a big leather belt with a large set of keys and two big pouches hanging down his side. Forced to peer up at the much taller Jourdain, the elf eyed him with a mixture of greed and suspicion. Soldiers and mercenaries were good-spenders, but they also tended to be trouble. "What can we do for you this fine evening?" the innkeeper asked politely. "We'll need food, and rooms for the night. And fodder for the horses." Jourdain thought for a moment. The four guards could bunk together, as would Mulder and Scully. He and Tarnor could share a room, which left Aldara ... well, better make that four rooms total. "Four rooms. And baths for the ladies." The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly as he did some rapid math in his head. "Twelve silvers, and six iron pieces," he said, his eyes glinting with avarice. Jourdain frowned, bargaining was not one of his favorite past-times, but even he knew that he was being royally over- charged. "Six silvers and three iron pieces," he replied, deciding to begin by slicing the price in half. The innkeeper puffed up angrily. "You insult me, sir! Why one of our rooms is worth more than that per night. And this is a busy time of the year. I was giving you a good deal, because unaccountably, things are quiet tonight. And you repay my courtesy by trying to cheat me! No, I will not take one less than ten silvers and five irons." Jourdain shook his head. "Eight silvers and four irons. Not a bit more." "You are nothing but a highway robber!" exclaimed the innkeeper. "How am I supposed to feed my family when you cheat me like this. My poor children..." The innkeeper went off in a tirade, hands flying a series of elaborate gestures, while an annoyed Jourdain stood impatiently, tapping his right foot against the step. Across the lawn, Aldara couldn't help giggling at the irritated frown on the Captain's face. "What's going on?" Scully asked, rubbing her hands through her hair, pasting it back into a semblance of the neat braid she had started out with that morning. "Jourdain hates to bargain." Aldara shook her head, the cloud of black hair framing her face waving down her back with the motion. "Guess someone better go help. He'll either give in and pay too much, or lose his temper and hit the innkeeper." "That wouldn't be good," Scully replied wearily. "Right now, though, I'd give about anything for a bath." Mulder nodded. "Yeah, me too. There ought to be a way to speed this up." He glanced back towards the inn, his head tilting slightly to the side. 'Uh-oh,' Sculy thought, as Mulder glanced at her with a familiar glint in his hazel eyes. Brushing more of the dust off his robe, he headed purposefully towards the men arguing in front of the inn doors. Thinking he was just following her suggestion, Aldara stepped in behind him, turning her head in surprise as Scully caught her elbow. "What?" "I don't know," the red-haired woman grimaced and gestured towards the man striding across the yard. "He's up to something. I know that look in his eyes." "Up to what?" Aldara asked with concern. Scully shrugged. "Just be prepared." Jourdain was about ready to punch the innkeeper, when an imperious voice sounded from the bottom of the steps. "Is there a problem, Captain?" Jourdain turned, his eyes dilating with astonishment. Standing at the foot of the steps, Mulder was looking up at them, his face calm and expectant. Despite the dust of travel, and the inevitably-crooked sword, he appeared every inch the powerful Mage. His eyes were dark and hooded, his finely-drawn features carved in stone. The dark blue of his Mage-cloak seemed to shimmer in the evening air. Sliding up the stairs as though his feet were almost floating, he paused beside Jourdain and looked down at the innkeeper. "I assume you have rooms available for my friends and myself." "Uhh, yes..." The innkeeper stammered, his already pale skin turning white. "We were just deciding on the price, honorable Magician." Jourdain held his smile, saying calmly, "I believe we were just settling on six silvers and five irons as a fair price." The trembling elf automatically opened his mouth to argue, then shut it when he saw blue sparks fly from the tall Mage's fingers as he absentmindedly brushed his hand though his dark hair. "Yes, yes, six and five it is. Come, come," the small elf confirmed, backing away nervously towards the door. Throwing one more unhappy glance over his shoulder at Mulder, he hurried inside, calling out a rapid series of instructions. Still outside, Mulder and Jourdain exchanged looks of amusement. "Thank you," Jourdain said as he reached for the door. "Elves have refined the process of bargaining to a fine art, and not even they can compete with innkeepers. Combine the two and...well, normally you end up wasting a good candlemark or two arguing price, and if you give in too soon, they get huffy and annoyed." Waving Mulder into the inn ahead of him, Jourdain added. "Maybe I should bring a Mage along more often." Mulder grinned, then reassuming his professional composure, he swept into the inn's darkened interior. Jourdain held the door for Scully and Aldara, who had both been listening to the conversation with increasing enjoyment, then followed them inside. The inn's central room reminded Mulder and Scully of an old-fashioned bar. One wall was lined by a long, low counter with rows of bottles on shelves behind it. Wooden, circular tables were spotted throughout the room. Some were set low to the floors, others were elevated with large wooden stools. In the corner a large stone fireplace provided most of the light, with small streams of the fading sunlight brushing the gloom below a few small windows. A tiny, but matronly elf wearing a bright yellow dress and striped red and green apron burst out from behind the counter. "Come in, come in," she urged in a friendly, high-pitched voice. Her eyes widened as she stared up at Mulder who towered over her in his still-glowing blue robe. She sank into a deep bow, then smiled hesitantly. "This way Sir Magician, this way. We have the best room in the house for you, just up the stairs. It has a nice window, and plenty of space. My boys will unload your horses and bring your things upstairs, while you rest from your long journey. Yina, my daughter, is already heating water for your bath." She bobbed her head again, glancing up at him with wide brown eyes. "Please, follow me." Exhausted, Mulder was more than willing to take her up on the offer. He held back long enough to let Scully and Aldara preceed him, then followed the women up the stairs. Their hostess was more than a little surprised when it became obvious that the small red-haired soldier was rooming with the Mage, while the other two guards were taking other rooms. Mulder avoided her questions by giving her an intense stare. One look at his set, determined face, and she backed off, her hand crumpling the corner of her apron in distress. Making a magician unhappy could have dire consequences. Once the door was closed, Mulder crossed the room and settled down on the bed with a sigh. "God, Scully, what I wouldn't give for a car right now. Anything, even an ancient rusty Oldsmobile, just as long as it ran on wheels and not four legs." Scully flopped down on the bed next to him, rubbing at the small of her back. "Yeah, me too. FBI training didn't include spending ten hours straight on top of a horse. Wake me in about a week." Mulder grinned and leaned over, propping his head on one hand. "Sure. That means I get the first bath." Scully's eyes popped wide open. "Oh, no it doesn't." Groaning slightly, she forced herself into a sitting position. "Ladies first!" He opened his mouth, about to give her the nearly irresistible reply, but one look at her pale, drawn face convinced him that silence was the better part of valor. He settled for leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes, and dreaming about a nice, shiny Ford truck with air-conditioning and four wheel drive. ~ ~ ~ After a short nap and a bath, everyone was feeling better. Dinner was surprisingly good, a hearty stew with sweet brown bread and a thick foamy ale. Jourdain, Aldara, Scully and Mulder were sitting at one round table, the four guards seated around a neighboring one. Tarnor had accepted a platter of raw meat and bread from one of the waitresses and retired upstairs. Thinking that she would very soon follow the gargoyle's example, Scully sipped at the ale gingerly, while Mulder eyed it appreciatively, then chugged down half the contents of his mug. "Better watch it, Mulder," Scully said, smiling as she watched him lick at the foam on his upper lip. "Tomorrow is going to bad enough without a hangover." "One glass of beer is hardly going to make me drunk," he protested with a grin. "How do you know it's 'beer?'" Scully asked. "We have no idea what the alcohol content it, or even whether it is alcoholic." "No, it's got alcohol, or something nearly as good." Mulder smiled as the warmth spread outward from his stomach, easing some of the remaining pain in his lower back. Aldara's magic linament had been a godsend, but nothing beat a cold glass of beer. "Obviously," Scully replied, arching an eyebrow at him in censure, though her blue eyes twinkled. "Still," Jourdain interrupted between mouthfuls. "Better take it easy on that stuff. We ride at dawn, and I expect you two to be ready to go on time." Mulder and Scully both grimaced, but nodded. Even over a relaxing dinner, it was not easy to forget the seriousness of their mission. "When do you think we'll get to Wide River?" Mulder asked Aldara, breaking off another piece of bread. "If we get on the road at sunrise," she replied. "We should get there by mid afternoon if all goes well." They sat in silence for a moment, each considering what the might have to face the next day. At a table closer to the door a small group of traveling mercenaries were busily getting drunk. All five men were dressed in dirty green wool and leather outfits, swords slung over their shoulder or propped against their stools. Several had knives through their black rawhide belts. All had long hair, bound back into tight ponytails on the tops of their heads, and several sported jagged scars across their faces, arms, and necks. As the waitress passed by, one of the men, with a white-lined scar across his right cheek, grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap. "Let me go," she cried angrily, jabbing him in the stomach with her elbow and leaping away nimbly. He gasped for breath as his compatriots roared with laughter, jeering at him. Once he had recovered his breath, he sat for a few minutes, eyeing the pretty blond elf in her yellow and brown dress as she wended her way over to Mulder and Scully's table with a pitcher of ale. A few more drinks down his throat combined with some rude comments from the other men, and he was at a fever pitch of anger and desire. The next time she passed by, he leapt up to seize her from behind, pulling both her wrists behind her and shoving her face down on the table. Immediately, his friends started banging their ale glasses on the table, cheering him on with raucous laughter. She screamed and wiggled, trying to kick him, but he was twice as big as she was. Her scream died out into a muffled moan of disgust as he yanked her head back by her long hair, kissing her hard as he rubbed his body over hers. "Take your hands off her," the innkeeper raced over to his daughter's defense. "Back off," the scarred mercenary growled, knocking the elf down with one hard punch. One of the other men yelled out, "Hey Vidar, hurry up. My turn next." That was the final straw as far as Mulder was concerned. Unwilling to leave things to Jourdain and his men who had already started across the room, Mulder pushed his way past them and seized the would-be rapist by the arm, yanking him backwards. The big mercenary responding by tossing the girl towards one of his friends, who caught and held her struggling body gleefully. Then he pulled his arm out of Mulder's grasp and swung at him. Mulder was faster though, ducking underneath, then spinning to kick the large man in the gut. He staggered against the table, then with a berserk roar of anger, threw himself onto his taller, but far more slender, adversary. As Mulder and the enraged mercenary fought, Jourdain pulled the screaming waitress away from the man pawing her, and pushed her away. She ran crying for the kitchen. Robbed of his prey, the second mercenary jumped on Jourdain, and pandemonium broke loose. Aldara and Scully managed to get the innkeeper out of the way, before leaping into the fight themselves. Aldara nearly took one mercenary's head off with her sword before catching herself and rendering him unconscious with the heavy hilt, while Scully jumped on another's back, clawing at his eyes. He bellowed and spun, finally throwing his smaller attacker up into the air. Twisting as she flew, she managed to bring her feet underneath her to land in a crouch on top of a table. Her red hair flying around her face, her eyes were blazing as she pulled a knife out of her boot and brandished it at the mercenary, who approached her with a growing smile on his face. "Now, now, pretty wench. How about you put down the knife so we can have us some fun!" he urged, reaching out towards her. Scully simply stared at him, waiting until he got just close enough. Then she struck. "Oowww!" he cried as she sliced his cheek with the knife, then leapt out of the way of his hand. With dawning respect, he faced her, pulling out a knife of his own. Behind them, Mulder was still rolling on the floor, struggling with his bulkier opponent. The two men hit at each other's vulnerable areas with knees and gouging hands. Finally delivering a punch into the mercenary's throat that knocked him briefly senseless, Mulder was finally able to scramble to his feet. One quick glance around at the war being fought across the room convinced him that he'd better stop this before someone got killed. While it was still more instinctive to react physically than magically, Mulder hadn't been studying for so long without learning a few useful spells. Centering and grounding almost by rote, he tuned down his shield and began to focus on creating a spell that would freeze the combatants in place, stopping any further violence in its tracks. He was still slow in utilizing his new talents, however, and before he could finish the spell, the mercenary got to his feet and struck Mulder hard in the stomach. The inexperienced Mage yelled in pain, his unfinished spell exploding in a loud thunderclap around him, sending the mercenary spinning upwards to float in mid-air, his body enclosed in a deep blue cloud. Instant frozen silence descended upon the room, as Mulder stared upwards in shock at the terrified man writhing inside the blue envelope above his head. Quick to take advantage of the situation, Jourdain shoved his wide-mouthed adversary aside and strode over to Mulder's side. "My gratitude to you, Magician, for your timely assistance," he said in a ringing voice. "My deepest apologies for subjecting you to this kind of uncouth brawl. If you wish to retire at this point, Mage Mulder, I'm sure my guards and I can take it from here. These men have had enough for tonight, isn't that so?" He looked pointedly from the one still suspended in mid-air to the others. Shaken, they all nodded, suddenly noticing the color of Mulder's robe for the first time. One swallowed nervously, seemingly shrinking into the floor. Another turned deathly pale and fell to his knees to vomit between his legs. At a glance from Jourdain, his men grabbed the four still earth-bound mercenaries and propelled them up the stairs to their room. Scully and Aldara breathed a sigh of relief, checking to see if each other was all right, then walked over to stand beside Jourdain and Mulder. "Get him down, Mulder. We should probably call it a night," Scully suggested wearily, returning the knife to her boot, extremely grateful that she'd bothered to wear it as Aldara had recommended. "I can't," Mulder replied unhappily. Three shocked pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. "What do you mean, you can't?" Jourdain questioned. "I didn't mean to do this. I was just going to blast the ceiling with a few fireworks to catch people's attention - stop the fighting. But he hit me before I could finish the spell, and it just exploded. I don't know what happened and I haven't the faintest idea how to reverse it." Mulder shook his head sadly, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I think it ought to wear off in a few candlemarks, but I'm not sure." "Mulder! Didn't Reinald teach you how to turn that stuff off?" Scully protested. "Sure," he replied, "but the method of undoing a spell is directly related to the spell itself, and this one got scrambled. Trying to undo it the wrong way could just make it worse." Scully looked annoyed for a moment, then the corners of her mouth uplifted in a smile. Aldara frowned at her, then up at the man floating above their heads, and then found herself smiling also. "Well, I guess he'll just have to sleep it off," she said. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Another long day on horseback, this one spent mostly in grim silence. The closer they got to their destination, the more they dreaded what they were going to find. But not even their worst imaginings could have prepared them for the devastation that awaited them. Aldara led them in single file up the road to Wide River. Even before they drew into sight of the town itself, they could see smoke wavering up towards the late afternoon sun. The air carried a stench that built in their quivering nostrils until it was nearly unbearable. It was a combination of rotting flesh, burnt meat, and something unidentifiably evil. Mulder rubbed at his nose, thinking that even the New Jersey sewers hadn't smelled this bad. They came across the first set of bodies - or what remained of the bodies - as they turned a curve in the road and saw the shattered town gates a short distance ahead. Coming to an abrupt halt, Scully slid down off her horse to kneel down beside one twitching body. The man's face was a wreck, one arm had been torn off, his legs were ripped to shreds. Large bites had been taking from his chest and abdomen, and his intestines boiled out of his belly, with crawling flies buzzing into the cavity. As Scully bent down over him, he twitched again, his mouth opening in a silent cry. "Oh my God!" she yelled back at the others crowding behind her, all color leached out of her face. "He's still alive!" A shout from one of the guards indicated that another ravaged man was still alive also. Mulder and Jourdain exchanged agonized glances, then turned to Scully. "Is there anything you can do for them?" Jourdain asked. "I..." Scully felt tears sting her eyes as she contemplated injuries that even a modern hospital would be hard put to deal with. She shook her head, even with surgical facilities, antibiotics, and a team of doctors, she doubted this man could be saved. The sound of the young guard vomiting into the ashy dust of the road not far away, confirmed that the other's injuries were probably as serious. "I doubt it. I don't have the skills, or the equipment. I don't think even Corvay could heal this." At the sound of her voice, the dying man found one last bit if strength and reached out to grasp her arm. She recoiled in shock, but was already being hit by his pain. Doubling over in excruciating agony she screamed and screamed. "Scully!" Mulder yelled, leaping to the ground to pull her away. Sobbing, she clung to him, burying her head against his shoulder. He held her for a long moment, until her shaking decreased. Tilting her head up to face him with gentle fingers under her chin, he didn't bother speaking, just let his eyes ask for him. "I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay." She brushed the strands of auburn hair out of her eyes, then glanced back at the man in the dirt. "He...he wants me to end it, to kill him." Mulder nodded, still holding her tight against him. He brushed the top of her head with his mouth, then let her go and stood up. "I'll do it," he said grimly, his mouth set in thin line. "No!" Scully's eyes were moist but determined. "He asked me. I felt his pain, Mulder. I have to release him myself." "Scully," Mulder protested, but her face was darkly certain. "Are you sure?" he asked softly. "Yes," she swallowed and met his dark eyes with a confidence she didn't feel. "I have to." "Okay," he replied accepting her right to make that decision. "Jourdain and I will check the others." The big captain tapped Mulder on the shoulder in agreement, then walked past them towards the gate. As he brushed past Aldara he angled his head towards Scully. "Look after her," he whispered. She nodded barely perceptibly, and went over to stand by Scully as the grieving doctor knelt down, tears now streaming openly down her whitened cheeks, and prepared to do the hardest thing she'd ever had to do in her life. Jourdain and Mulder worked their way closer to the smoldering, broken town gates, examining one bloody, fractured corpse after another. To their bitter relief, only two others of the close to three dozen bodies were still alive, each begging to be released from their torment. With gritted teeth and fury in their eyes, they each chose a dying man. In silent agreement, the two men drew their swords and in one clean blow, severed both necks simultaneously. Scully used her mind rather than her sword to give the dying man the peace he deserved. Carefully, she reached into the base of his skull with her mind and severed the nerves one by one, so that he would feel no more pain from his body while she tightened a mental fist on the blood vessels bringing oxygen to the brain. She felt his relief as paralysis ended the agony, and his gratitude as he slipped into unconsciousness and death. She felt every sensation he did, until he was no longer there, leaving her bent sobbing over an empty shell that had once been a human being. Aldara reached out to hold her friend from behind, wrapping thin, strong arms surrounding her. Scully struggled to get free, then collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion, pain, frustration, sadness, and above all, a deep burning rage. Her eyes glowed with blue fire as she turned to glare into Aldara's sorrowful green eyes, while her voice was cold, clear and steady. "Someone is going to pay for this." ~ ~ ~ It took the small company nearly three hours to work their way methodically through the ravaged village. No structure had been left untouched, even stone walls were crushed or scorched. Bodies, or pieces of them, lay flung throughout; no more were found alive. In the marketplace, broken pieces of pottery lay side by side with crushed melons and severed arms, legs, and heads. Bread turned stale next to trails of human intestines, spilled stew mixed with gargoyle and elven blood. Working in grim silence, they gathered up every human, elf, gargoyle and troll remnant they could find, making four gory piles in the town center. Once they were certain they'd retrieved as much as they could, nine weary and horrified people gathered together to share their grief and rage; to give the dead some overdue respect. Jourdain stumbled through a short prayer, his voice rising and falling from an angry cry to a hoarse whisper. Aldara reached out to grasp his hand as he came to a stop in mid- sentence, unable to find the words to continue. She pulled him back, then glanced over towards Mulder. "Give them a funeral pyre the entire Realm will see and remember, Mage," she said, each word clipped and precise. Mulder stepped forward, waving the others back. Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate, mumbling sing-song words under his breath. As his body began to glow a brilliant shimmering blue, he raised his hands and pointed. Flashes of lightning struck out of a clear blue sky, each striking one of the mounds causing them to burst into flames. Blue sparks lanced out of Mulder's outstretched fingers, mingling with the white light from the sky and the red of the fires. Four rainbow columns rose vertically, illuminating the darkening sky. One more shouted command from Mulder's glowing form and the flames exploded upwards, forcing the observers to shield their eyes. Another series of thunderclap-like explosions deafened their ears followed by sudden silence. Scully and the others slowly unshielded their eyes to find four perfect blackened circles of ground where there the bloody piles of flesh had been - and Mulder kneeling between them, his head buried in his arms. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fox Mulder sat on a tree-stump a few feet away from the rest of the camp. No one had been able to stomach the idea of remaining in the village, even though there was no sign of the Destroyers, so they had led the horses down the river into the woods. Walking in silence, they continued past nightfall, continued until the stench of Wide River was cleared from the air. The camp had been set in a small grove of elms, each member of the troop doing his part without uttering a word. Dinner had been prepared and forced down, all knowing the sustenance was necessary, each nearly choking on every bite. Two of the guards were keeping a nervous watch, while the others settled into small tents, pretending to sleep. Mulder hadn't even bothered with the attempt. Instead he had slipped off into the night like a shadow. "Mulder?" Scully came up quietly behind him, pressing a hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it away, moving swiftly to his feet and taking a couple steps away from her. "Mulder!" she said again, a very slight tremble in her voice. He was silent for one long moment, but just before she started to speak again, he pivoted to face her. In the moonlight, his eyes were dark cavities, the arching lines of his cheekbone stretched tight and hard, his jaw jutted forward. His voice was icy cold. "All this power, Scully." Lifting his hand he threw a sphere of blue light up into the air, which fragmented into a rain of glittering sparks at a wave of his arm. "Yet all I can do are parlor tricks." "Mulder, you can do more than parlor tricks. You know that!" She fought for the right words, not even certain what it was she wanted to say. "You were the one who took this seriously. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, that it was a daydream that I'd wake up from like it never happened. If things had gone my way, we wouldn't even be here. I don't know if we can help these people the way the Prophecy says, I only know that we have to try." She reached out to touch his arm, restraining him as he tried again to pull away. "How can such things exist, Scully?," he spoke abruptly. "I thought I'd looked into the face of evil before: serial killers, vampires and werewolves, men who experiment on children.... But this?" He laughed bitterly. "Yet, I can't help wondering why I am surprised. You know what my first thought was, Scully, when we walked through those gates? I felt like a WWII American soldier walking into a Nazi concentration camp. In an odd sort of way, things make more sense here: evil wears its own face. In our world, evil sometimes wears a pleasant disguise." "Evil wears the same face everywhere, Mulder, sometimes you just have to look harder to see it. It feels hopeless right now, I know. But we've beaten it before, we just have to hold onto the belief that we can do so again." She knew she was driven more by rage than confidence, but the battle lines had been drawn. After what they'd seen that day, there was simply no walking away. "I wish I could be sure of that," he replied. "There are no assurances, but we still have to try." She closed the distance between them, and looked up into his shadowed eyes. "Together." "Scully...Dana..." he brushed the hair back from her face, caressing her cheek gently. "I'm here" she answered softly, closing her hand over his and pressing the palm against her lips. Their eyes met and clung, the world around them dissolving as he finally let the mental barriers down and drew her in. For a timeless instant they stood together, minds entwined, bodies separated by a few inches of cloth and air. Then, groaning aloud, he roughly pulled her up against him and claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Blood pounding through her veins, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck. He ground his lips into hers, she pressed upwards for more. His tongue forced its way into her mouth, and she sucked on it, seizing hold with her teeth. Gasping for breath, he released her mouth, then assaulted her face and neck, kissing every inch of skin along her forehead, nose, cheekbones, jaw and throat. Twisting in his grasp, she returned kiss for kiss, licking the stubbled skin along his jaw, nibbling at the velvety skin of his cheek, biting at his lips as they brushed over hers. Her body was warm and vibrant in his arms, every curve an invitation. She sighed low and deep in her throat as he closed probing fingers over a breast, a hip, a thigh. Digging one hand into the hair on the back of his neck, she drew the other down the length of his spine, pressing it into the small of his back. Then curving it downwards to hold him still, she rotated her hips to grind her pelvis against his, sealing their bodies together. "Dana," he murmured her name over and over, in a silky, yet raspy voice, edged with desire. The sound of it in her ear, his breath hot against her skin, made her heart race even faster. Desire flooding her, she began to pull at his clothes, frustration mounting as she struggled with the still unfamiliar Realm-style fastenings. He moved to help her, dropping the Mage-cloak to the ground, then yanking the tunic off his head to cast it aside. The white cotton shirt he was wearing underneath was open to his navel, and she pressed her hands and her mouth against the bare flesh of his chest, touching and tasting the heated smoothness of his skin, rubbing her fingers through the hairs, tonguing his nipples until they hardened. He buried his face in the hair on the top of her head, deeply breathing in the smell of her, his hands working quickly to undo her belt and lift up her tunic. She lifted her mouth away from him to let him strip off her tunic and shirt in one swift move. Then she reciprocated, yanking his shirt out of his pants and over his head. He sank downwards until he was on his knees in front of her. Grasping her around the waist to pull her smooth abdomen up against his chin, he tilted his head upwards to let his eyes drink in the glorious sight of her. Her hair was loose, the doubled moonlight turning it into a soft red halo that swirled around her face. Even in the darkness, her eyes were a luminescent blue, her mouth a dream come true - full and red and trembling, her tongue teasing at her bottom lip. Her breasts were full and round, the tips already hardened by desire and contact with the cool night air. Sliding his hands up her back to close around her shoulders, he guided her downwards until she was perched on his bent knees, her own knees spread wide around his legs. In this position, her face was at an even level with his, and they savored the taste of each other, drinking in each other's mouths, one hungry kiss after another. Finally letting themselves free to touch and be touched, they explored every inch of each other's bodies with loving hands. Minds linked, each thought - each feeling - reverberated between them, allowing every desire to be satisfied the instant it was formed. Mulder pressed Dana down onto the forest floor, covering her with the heat of his body. She clutched him against her, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him, as their mouths met and melded yet again. "Mmmmph," Scully muttered deep in her throat, suddenly pushing him upwards. "Dana, what?" He let go of her in surprise, a mix of frustration, desire, and sudden fear jolting through him, startling her. "No, no it's just a branch...in my back...," she flooded his mind with love and reassurance almost without conscious effort. Relaxing, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached beneath her to remove the offending twig while she twined her arms around his neck and arched her body up against his, leaving a space between her and the ground. Once he had tossed the branch aside, he leaned back up to a kneeling position, bringing her with him so that she was fully wrapped around him, legs around his waist, arms around his shoulders. Holding her there for a moment, he paused and closed his eyes. Nestled against him, Dana felt a shiver go up her spine, like a series of static charges. Angling her head to look into his face, her question was communicated without a word. His answer was equally nonverbal, the thoughts flowing from mind to mind like a water rippling in a brook. Understanding what he was trying to do, she closed her eyes, feeling the magic energy build within him as it flickered across his skin, brushing hers with electric tingles. Mulder watched intently as his abandoned Mage's cloak floated up in the air, spread itself out, then settled to the ground. Another rush of power charged though his mind, and hers, while the thin cloak doubled, tripled, expanded in thickness until it was like a soft blue mattress suspended just above the forest floor. With the release of a final bolt of power their coupled bodies began to rise into the air, eliciting a small squeal of surprise from Dana. Mulder tightened his grip around her, laughing with a rare unguarded joy. The beauty of that sound filled Dana's heart with happiness as he guided them down into the center of the overgrown cloak. She sighed with pleasure as her back hit the soft fabric, delighting in the pressure of his body on hers. In moments they were again lost in each other, stroking, touching, sharing, loving. The remaining clothes were discarded almost without thought, and Mulder buried his mouth in the center of her pleasure, breathing in the essence of her, even as her ecstasy flooded his senses, bringing his own desire to a fever pitch. Dana felt his burgeoning need mixed intrinsically with her own. Reaching down to gently drag him up across her body, she urged him down into her, both nearly sobbing with relief as he filled her. She could feel her own moisture and heat as it cradled him, he could feel his own throbbing strength as it penetrated her. He fed her pleasure back to her, and she returned it to him, each sensation multiplying; their love and desire feeding upon each other until their minds shattered apart and reformed, joined and linked, becoming no longer two separate beings, but purely one. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Prince Andalor spurred his pony ahead, laughing into the wind as he outpaced his escort. Ignoring their pleas, he raced ahead, expertly guiding his pony into the trees. It wasn't as though he didn't know every inch of the estate like the back of his hand. He'd explored these woods many times; he knew every tree, every stone, every stream. This was his home, and he desperately needed some time alone to think. The weight of being heir to the Realm was sometimes frightening, especially to an eight year-old boy who had seen both his parents die. Sometimes he dreamed about their deaths, reliving every horrible moment in perfect detail. Much as he enjoyed his photographic memory, there were moments when was a more of a curse than a blessing. The foreign magician understood as no one else did, Andalor had seen the knowledge and pain flicker in his oddly-colored eyes. Actually, it was because of the two foreigners - the two Travellers - that he was busily ducking his guards and tutors. If the Travellers were here, it meant that the Time of the ancient Prophecy was finally at hand. Already, people were dying, suffering throughout the Realm, and Andalor knew deep down inside that things were only going to get worse. His tutors had tried to shield him, to pretend that things were all right, but Andalor was good at hearing things he wasn't supposed to. And while the others might lie smoothly, Reinald was a terrible liar. The Mage would fidget terribly whenever he tried to keep something from the Prince - rub at his nose, bite on his bottom lip, mess with the hem of his robe. No, whatever they might say, Andalor knew the Time was at hand. The young Prince just wasn't sure what he should do about it. Once he was certain he had left his pursuers far behind, the fair-haired child slid down of his pony, and led the animal through the underbrush, heading unerringly for one of his favorite spots. Breaking through a thicket of pines, Andalor sighed with pleasure as he saw the small waterfall trickling down the edge of a small incline, a small pool formed at its base. Tying the pony to a nearby tree, he yanked off his boots as he ran, laughing as he waded into the water. He splashed around for a few moments, just enjoying the sense of freedom, before he decided to go back to shore and settle down to figure out a plan of action. Just as he was about to climb onto land, a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye and he stopped in mid-stride. "Hello?" he called out, glancing around him as his hand felt for the small dagger held in a loop of his belt. But before his fingers could close upon the hilt, there was a sudden flash of light from the forest. The bright blue beam struck the water, freezing it into solid form, turning ripples of liquid into carved flows of stone. A sharp cry of dismay barely escaped Andalor's lips as his body shimmered and glowed, slowly transmuting the vibrant child into a marble statue... silent, motionless, and cold. End of Chapter Eight Chapter Nine If there had been a morning in his life that Mulder had been happier, he couldn't remember it. Looking down at the sleeping form of his partner, he felt a fulfillment, a satisfaction and a happiness that he had never known. The hell they had shared yesterday had given way to paradise in the night. Clothed in darkness, sheltered by starlight, they had removed the last of the barriers between them. Their lovemaking had been both tender and fevered, measured and passionate. It was everything either of them had ever fantasized in lonely darkness or in cold light. To be sure, he still feared the negative aspects of the lifebond - now more than ever, with the danger that surrounded them. But he was starting to realize the immensity of the joy that same bond could bring. For the thousandth time in the past few hours, he wished that he could just go off somewhere with Dana, to be free to explore each other, to get to know each other better in this new way. The danger to the Realm precluded all possibility of that happening now. After what they had seen yesterday, everyone's personal agenda was going to have to wait until the fate of the Realm had been decided. My timing's always been lousy, Mulder thought. "Oh, I wouldn't say that," whispered Scully, looking up at him with laughter and love in her eyes. Even before her mind had fully formed the thought, he had dipped his head to claim her mouth, deepening the kiss as he tightened the arm that was around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. "Mulder, it's almost dawn," she murmured, moving her head a bit to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her neck and throat. "We should get dressed and get back to camp." "Yes, we really should," he breathed. "Just - not yet...." ~ ~ ~ "Aldara! Wake up!" Jourdain's urgent whisper carried into her tent and the warrior was awake in an instant. She poked her head through the tent flaps. "What is it?" she demanded, knowing that he would have a good reason for summoning her before first light. Or at least he'd better. "The Mage Mulder is missing, as is Scully. Their tent hasn't been slept in all night. The guards keeping watch said they entered the woods soon after everyone retired last night, and no one has seen them since. I'm getting worried. Anything could have happened. But I don't want to alarm the others, not until I'm sure I have to." "What's your plan?" "Come with me and help me search. Your eyes are sharper than mine, especially in the dark." She peered into his face. He did seem anxious. She knew Scully's capabilities and was inclined to think that the foreign woman was more than able to take care of herself in any eventuality. But she knew Jourdain was feeling responsible for the safety of the pair, and she respected that. She nodded. "All right. Which way did they go?" Quietly the two of them slid out of camp, choosing an overgrown track which followed the course of the river. Not daring to call out for fear of attracting unwanted attention, they relied on Aldara's sharp eyes and ears in their search. The only sounds she heard were Jourdain's mutterings, a combination of prayers and threats to the gods that Mulder and Scully would be found safely. It was perhaps because of those mutterings that she did not hear the pair for whom they were searching until they had almost blundered into them. Aldara, not surprisingly, spotted them first. "It would appear they are in little danger, Jourdain," she said dryly in her softest whisper. "In fact, they appear to be in a truly enviable state of health." Jourdain looked over the top of her head, and grunted softly. Taking her sleeve, he pulled her back up the path for a distance of some fifty meters, then sat. She settled down beside him. "I'm loathe to interrupt, but we may have to - we need to be on the road soon," he said. "I never thought... well, it's hard to remember that foreign Mages may take a wife, may have a lifebond. I hope that didn't embarrass you, Aldara," he said, a little embarrassed himself. Noting the shake of her head, he continued, "Gods, I miss that." Realizing what he had just said, he turned to her, eyes wide, stumbling in his effort to explain himself. "Nay, nay, not *that*! Well, not that *exactly*. It's just -" Giving up, he decided to start again. "You know I was married, that my wife died some years ago," he said softly. "After a while, you give up on the idea that you can have that kind of happiness again. We weren't lifebonded, as those two, but we were happy enough. I miss it. Not so much that, the coupling." He inclined his head in the general direction of where they had found Mulder and Scully. Then he smiled, a little guiltily. "Well, yes, that too. But especially the closeness. There are just times when - " he sighed. "Have you ever thought of perhaps finding another?" Aldara asked. She, too, sometimes ached for the closeness of a lover, but had given up on the idea herself. How many men wanted a half-breed female warrior for a lover? There had been times when she was with Jourdain when she was almost sure that he.... But then, her experience in matters of the heart was so limited, she may have misinterpreted a kind word for more than it was. He was silent for a long while. "Sometimes, yes. But I'm not exactly young. And I'm a soldier, which means I'm in a dangerous profession and I'll never be wealthy. Between age, battlescars and nature, I'm not much to look at." He shrugged. "I have little to offer a woman." "Well, that would depend on what a woman is looking for, wouldn't it?" Aldara turned to look at him, a little shyly, hoping to see some encouragement. Tentatively, she continued, "Any woman looking for someone strong, and courageous, and honorable; someone dependable, and faithful, and honest, would be very happy with someone like you." Jourdain was very still except for the pounding of his heartbeat, so loud that surely she could hear it. Almost inaudibly, he whispered, "Would you know of anyone like that?" A gentle hand stroked his cheek. "I might," she whispered back, smiling. ~ ~ ~ The sun was just coming over the horizon, turning the river to a ribbon of pink and gold, when Mulder and Scully started reluctantly making their way back to camp. They hadn't gone far when they came upon an extraordinary sight. Jourdain, the rough grizzled warrior, was holding Aldara in his lap as carefully as if he thought she might break, as firmly as if he thought she might disappear. They were whispering. Her hand was caressing his cheek, his occasionally reached down to touch her hair, her throat, her face, as if to ensure himself that she was real. "Sorry, are we interrupting?" Mulder said softly. The two sprang away from each other, quite red-faced, feeling incredibly awkward in front of the Mage and his lifebond mate. "I'm afraid we have to get going and break camp. I sympathize - you have no idea how much I sympathize,' Mulder said, and then was amazed when the two experienced warriors broke into giggles. "Oh, we have an idea," said Aldara, Jourdain not trusting himself to speak. The two led the way back to camp. Mulder and Scully lagged a little way behind. "What do you think all that's about?," he asked Scully. From her vantage point earlier that morning, Scully had had a better view of the trail, and knew very well what their giggles were all about. She smiled up at him. "Probably nothing." Within a minute or two, they were back in camp, which had sprung into life. Pots filled with water and pans with meat strips were on the cookfires, and the soldiers were breaking down the tents and getting them packed on the horses. Jourdain and Aldara, once again just two soldiers, took charge of the remainder of the breakfast preparation. They had all taken seats around the fire. As Scully passed Mulder a mug of tea and a plate, she mentally felt him recoil. Looking up into his face, she saw that he had gone white. "Excuse me." He paced a few yards off, and turned his back to the group. He appeared to be staring into the distance. After a several minutes, he turned to face them, his eyes ranging over the small clearing. He nodded, his eyes distant for a few more minutes, then he seemed to focus and walked slowly back to the fire. He spoke in a low voice. "There's been trouble at the castle. The Prince was discovered to be missing yesterday afternoon when his pony came back to the castle without him. They've had search parties out all night to try to find him. They finally discovered him this morning.Apparently, he has had some kind of a spell cast against him...." Scully had already picked up quite a bit from her link with her bondmate. As he made his announcement to the others, she studied their reactions. Jourdain and Aldara cursed vociferously and Tarnor looked ready to burst into tears. As word spread to the soldiers in the party, there was an angry rumbling. The thought of that beautiful, vibrant child turned into a cold, hard mockery of his living self - She shuddered. Mulder waited for their outbursts to die down, then continued. "Reinald, of course, is devastated. No one knows who did it, and the news is not yet widely known. But Reinald said that those who have heard about it are getting restless. They want someone to blame. There have been angry mobs gathering at the castle, shouting for Reinald's head. We have to get back there as fast as we possibly can. The ride back will take too long. The Realm may be torn apart by revolution and anarchy by then. Faced with no other alternative, Reinald and I are going to build a Gate." "What can we do?" asked Jourdain. Right now, he needed to do something, to channel the incredible anger he felt. He knew Aldara would feel the same way. "Take charge of the other men. And the horses, especially - they won't like all the noise and lightning and such. The last thing we're going to need is my being distracted at a critical moment by a stampede." Scully looked at him. "This is dangerous, isn't it?" He knew better than to try to lie. "Yes, it can be," he admitted. "But I've done it before and I know a lot more now than I did then. I'll be all right. I'm more worried about what we'll find once we get back." "I know. Mulder, that poor little kid. All right, what can I do?" she asked. "Keep everyone clear, no matter what. You, too." He looked at her, not the way he had looked at her in all the months and weeks that went before, but in the way he had started looking at her since last night. He sent her a message, for only each other's minds to know. By the way her mind caressed his, the way her face glowed, the way her eyes grew slightly moist, he knew she had received it. "Okay now, back up, and keep that area over there clear." He indicated the area where the tents had been pitched the night before. He walked over the center of the area and established his connection with Reinald. In some ways, in spite of what he had said to Scully, having helped to build a Gate before was not a lot of comfort. In the previous situation, it was their only chance to escape death. He had been so disoriented and shell-shocked by the fall through the Vortex and the attack of the soul-eaters that he had not fully comprehended the dangers involved, which now he understood only too well. He also understood better now the enormity of their task and the price he would pay physically and mentally, even if everything went as it should. He braced himself, and sent Reinald the signal. Within seconds, he was surrounded by the crackling white and blue power flames, and he staggered with their force. Scully gasped as white fire danced from his fingertips, blue flames coursed down his legs. Although he had shielded himself, because of their special bond she felt the incredible strength it took for him to control this energy. Concentrating all his efforts, he drove the power deep in the earth, anchoring it with the professional twist Reinald had taught him. Panting, he squatted down and took a couple minutes to recover, realizing that if he passed out during the construction of the Gate, he would die and would probably kill Reinald, as well. When he felt strong enough, he stood and centered himself once again. Then, he seized the top of the huge column of fiery energy with his mind, bending it and plunging it into the ground. Taking a shaky breath, he stepped into the center of the arch he had created, and sent the energy back to Reinald. A minute later, the arch began to cloud, then slowly focus into sharp definition, and Reinald was there, calling to them. Mulder summoned the soldiers, who had covered the horses' heads with blankets to prevent as much as possible their becoming frightened. They led the rearing, snorting beasts through the arch to the castle courtyard. Next went Tarnor, then Jourdain and Aldara. Wearily, he walked over the Scully and took her hand. "Speechless, Scully? That's not like you," he teased. "You did that before? Built a Gate like that when we were in the woods? You're right, I am speechless," she said. "That was incredible!" He gathered her close, then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. "It was much more incredible this time. I'm surprised I had the energy, after last night," he observed. "If you weren't so obviously exhausted right now, I'd get you for that." She smiled up at him, took his hand, and led him through the Gate to Fairwood Keep. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ When they had all arrived back through the portal, the soldiers took charge of the horses and led them off in the direction of the stable. Grimly, the others followed Reinald to his chambers, every so often hearing the shouts and clamor of the mob outside the castle gates. In his chamber at last, they sat at the hearth while Reinald updated them. "Did you tell them the nature of the spell on the Prince?" he asked Mulder. "No. Scully knows, I think. I thought I'd wait until we got back here and they could see for themselves." Mulder paused while Grejor served him tea. "Are you any closer to knowing who did it?" "I wish I were. Ask most of the people gathered outside the gates and they'll tell you I did it." Reinald shook his head, a resigned expression on his face. "I can't blame them really. It's the most logical solution. Besides, they're frightened. The harvests the last several years have been poor, not enough to cause famine, but poor nonetheless. There have been intermittent plagues, especially among the young. And now the attacks of the beasts from the Dark Realm. It doesn't take a Mage to tell them that the Prophecy is being fulfilled before their very eyes. They know as well as anyone what's coming - that it could be the end for all of us, for our world. They've looked to Mages from time immemorial for protection, and all too often that trust was abused by magicians who used their powers for selfish or spiteful reasons. Their trust has been eroded. Now, it appears a Mage is responsible for harming their Prince. Naturally, they'd be after my head." Reinald's voice grew rough with emotion, and unshed tears glinted in his eyes. "Oh, Andalor," he whispered. "Where is he now?" Mulder asked gently. Reinald gestured to Grejor, who opened the door to his master's bedchamber. The Prince stood in the center of the room, frozen for all time in stone. Mulder and Scully looked in first, followed by Jourdain, Tarnor and Aldara. The five returned to their chairs with identical expressions of sorrow and anger. "What can we do?" asked Scully. Reinald pulled himself together. "There's so much to do I hardly know where to begin. Jourdain, Aldara - our enemies without and within will lose no time in taking advantage of this. As it is, word of the Prince's fate reached the people suspiciously quickly, leading me to believe that factions inside the castle spread the news. The ever-bickering factions and a panicked populace would be enough to deal with. But we can hardly expect the attacks from the Dark Realm's forces to stop. Therefore, we have two battlefronts, Jourdain, my old friend. And I believe one of your first duties will be to arrest and imprison me." "Nay! I'll never do it!" declared Jourdain. "No one can make me. The idea - that you could harm a hair of the Prince's head - it's ridiculous!" "Thank you, Jourdain, your faith is appreciated, believe me. But when the time comes, arresting me is exactly what you must do." Reinald looked gravely at his Captain and friend. "There will be revolution if it appears that the Prince's attacker will not be brought to justice. As it is, there was almost a riot when the magic-sensitive in the crowd sensed the construction of a Gate - I'm sure they thought I was making my escape. In any event, if there is revolution, we will never be able to defend against the evil creatures of the Dark Realm, and we will be doomed for certain. Aldara, you will be in charge of keeping order internally - preventing riots, keeping the factions and the noble houses in line as much as possible, reassuring the people. Keep Jourdain abreast of your activities. Jourdain, you need to take charge of preparing our troops for war with the forces of the Dark Realm." He stopped, noting the warrior's expression. "I do realize that what I'm asking for is nearly impossible. Through Mulder and Tarnor, I saw the unspeakable slaughter and devastation at Wide River. But those creatures must have some kind of weakness, or we must have some form of strength, that can be used successfully against them. I want you to find our strength or their weakness and draw up a strategy for using what you find. You are to have all the resources of the Realm at your disposal, including the cooperation of Mage Mulder, Scully, and my apprentices, Tarnor and Grejor. Do you understand?" Grimly, Jourdain nodded. "Good." Reinald paused, letting his head drop back against the chair. The Mage's skin was almost gray from exhaustion. Between being up all night coordinating the search for the Prince, the emotional drain of the Prince's fate, and building the Gate, the toll on him had been heavy. "You may all leave, all but Mulder and Scully. Grejor, you too are dismissed." "Mage, is there nothing I can help you with? You are exhausted," Grejor protested. "No, lad. You're a good boy, but I'll be resting soon. I just need a few words with the Travellers first. I'll call you if I need you." Sullenly, Grejor mumbled a farewell, then left the chamber. When he had gone, Reinald turned to Mulder and Scully. "Well, I see another part of the Prophecy has been fulfilled! One that for a change brings me great joy." He smiled benignly at the pair. Scully sensed Mulder grow tense beside her. Reinald sensed it too. "Even now you haven't told her, Mulder?" he chided, shaking his head. "Told me what?" asked Scully, looking at Mulder. "Everything happened so fast! Really, Scully, I would have told you on the ride back today, if there had been a ride back. I didn't want to tell you before because..." Mulder hesitated. "Well, several reasons, I guess. I was having a hard time dealing with it, and I thought you'd have an even harder time. And I didn't want to put any pressure on you, I wanted you to make up your own mind, and - " "Told me WHAT?" she demanded. "Um...Reinald, would you - ?" Mulder looked almost desperately at the Mage, who chuckled, then nodded. "Mulder must be forgiven for not telling you, my dear," Reinald said. "I'm not sure he believed me when I first told him, and then the idea frightened him badly - " He noticed Mulder's look of shock. "Well, it did, did it not? Yes, I thought so. Anyway, try not to be too hard on him. He has a point when he says that he didn't want to influence you in any - " Scully's voice was icy. "If one of you doesn't tell me what's going on - *now* - I'm going to throw a little Mage-storm of my own!" Mulder and Reinald looked at the irate woman and then at each other. "Oh, I'm sorry. Well," said Reinald. "You and Mulder share a lifebond. Your auras predetermined it. Once you met, there was no stopping it." "What exactly is a lifebond?" Now that her questions were being answered, Scully's voice had lost its edge. "It's the closest kind of relationship that exists, Dana," explained Mulder. "It's why we had those visions when we first arrived, before Corvay taught us how to control them. It's why we always know where the other is. That's very unusual here. It's not because of your psi ability either, although that kind of makes it all the stronger. Mostly it's because of this lifebond thing." "Mulder, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?" asked Scully. He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, partly ashamed of not telling her about the lifebond, partly ashamed of his fear. Seeing Mulder's difficulty, Reinald stepped in. "There are aspects of the lifebond which are rather... daunting," explained Reinald. "I believe Mulder had trouble with the concept that the lifebondmates are less than a whole, singly. He feared losing you, and losing himself in the process." "I just emotionally hared out," admitted Mulder softly, deep pain in his eyes. Also in his mind, and she was getting the full force of it, as she gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh! Dana, I'm sorry." He shielded, and her pain diminished. "Anyway, thinking about the life-bond brought back all the hell of your abduction and illness and all my self-destructiveness and desperation then. I just didn't want to deal with the potential for that much devastation again." Even if she had not just shared his pain, she would have known the effect that Reinald's explanation of the lifebond would have on him. He was only too well aware of the fact that without her, he was not whole. He hardly needed some lifebond to reinforce it. And she was well aware of his fear for losing her. Even in their own world, without telepathy or empathic links, that fear had been communicated to her in a myriad of ways in almost every case they had investigated together. "And now?" she asked, her eyes still bright with tears. "Nothing's really changed, Mulder. Can you deal with that potential now?" "Now I know the extent of the joy, too," he said simply, his voice rich with feeling. "And I'm willing to risk the pain for the incredible joy that this brings. That you bring." Mulder searched her face. "But I wanted you to choose freely, to decide to enter into this relationship without the pressure of knowing that it was destined." "So are we lifebonded now?" asked Scully. "How did it happen?" She looked at Mulder, who in turn looked at Reinald. "In a way, you always were, from birth. Once you met and spent time together, it was - I'm sorry, the language spell really can't cope with this, your language doesn't have the words... "forged", is the closest word you have. The bond becomes increasingly strong and close over time. And once it has been - oh, the language problem again - 'validated', it becomes inviolate, unbreakable, unassailable, with even more closeness. Yes, now that your bond has been validated, it shows quite clearly in your auras. Scully's now carries a little of Mulder's blue, and his has some green and just a touch of brown. Both absolutely unique. You may still need some training in dealing with some of the feelings you're going to have, especially now that you're validated. Corvay can help with that, if there's time." "Time is something we're running short of. What do you want us to do, Reinald?" asked Mulder gravely. "Find out who did this to the Prince," Reinald replied without hesitation. "I appreciate the fact that you don't think it was me. Obviously it was someone with a knowledge of magic, but that could be any of hundreds - every village has its Mage. Yesterday was a Market Day, so there were countless numbers of strangers within the castle gates. Some Mage in the pay of one of the noble houses, perhaps a friend of Drellor, who knows? But we must find the person who cast the spell. In the language of the casting we will find the only clues we're likely to get for the key to removing the spell." "Is the Prince still alive? Can he hear us, sense us?" asked Scully. She didn't know which would be worse, not sensing at all, or being able to sense those around you, but not be able to move a muscle or communicate in any way. "I believe with all my heart and mind that he is still alive, but is in some form of stasis," replied Reinald. "As to the other .. I go in, I talk to him, I try to reassure him, but ..." His eyes filled with tears. "We'll do whatever we can," Mulder promised. "In our reality, this is the kind of thing we do for our work - investigating - and we're pretty good at it. Just keep your mind open to communication, especially if you're arrested and they won't let me see you. By the way, am I likely to be suspected of casting the spell on the Prince?" "There's been some talk, again I think it was generated by someone here in the castle," Reinald admitted. "But fortunately you were at too great a distance and with too many credible witnesses for anyone to take such talk seriously." He sagged. "I'm sorry, but I must rest now. Mulder, you should rest too for a few candlemarks, to recover from building the Gate. You don't know when you're going to be called upon to use your powers, so you need to keep them in top form." "I'll do that, Reinald." As they stood to leave, the Mage grabbed Mulder's sleeve and looked at him. The two communicated silently for a few moments, then Mulder nodded. "I'll remember," he said. After seeing Reinald safely to bed, the couple strolled wearily to their chamber. ~ ~ ~ "Mad at me?" He looked at her askance. The two had spoken little on their way from Reinald's quarters. Now they were back in their own chamber. The weather, perhaps sensing the mood of the Realm, had grown overcast and chilly, and they were glad for the fire that crackled merrily in the hearth, cheering the otherwise gloomy room. "I'll get over it. I do understand why you didn't tell me - but that doesn't mean I agree with it. When will you learn not to try to protect me all the time? No more, all right?" "No more," he agreed, a little too easily. Scully sighed. "Mulder, don't promise what you can't deliver. I'd be satisfied with a promise that you will in the future at least *attempt* not to be so overprotective of my body and my psyche." "Okay. I will try as hard as I can not to be so overprotective. How's that?" He looked at her hopefully. "Friends again?" In spite of herself, Scully smiled. "I guess that's the best I can reasonably expect." She closed the distance between them to put her arms around him. He bent his head, his lips finding hers in a kiss that began chaste and sweet and gradually became more demanding, as he cupped the rounded softness of her bottom and pressed her against him. While she could still think straight, Scully broke away from him. "You need to go to bed, Mulder." "I intend to." He kept moving toward her, his hands tangled in her hair, raining little kisses on her face, backing her up until she was sandwiched between his body and the bed. "Those were Reinald's orders. You're supposed to get some sleep," she said, with mock severity. "I will, I usually do..." Mulder took her hair and freed it from its practical braid to cascade around her shoulders. "...afterwards." He took her by the waist and boosted her onto the bed, standing with her knees on either side of him. Unlike that first night so many weeks ago, now they did not avoid each other's eyes. No more did they have to hide the ferocious hunger reflected there; rather, they gloried in the implicit promise. No more did they have anything they had to hide; they were eager to share everything they were or needed or wished. Her arms curved around his neck and she leaned close to trace his lips with her tongue before plunging it between them to kiss him deeply. He removed the belt securing her tunic and ran his hands between her shirt and her skin, savoring the warmth and softness they found there. He breathed as if he had been running. His hands came out from beneath her shirt to cup her face. His expression became grave, and he looking deeply into her eyes. "Do you think you can manage going through the rest of your life being bonded with me?" He asked the question seriously. She knew he expected a serious, considered answer. Her reply was in her head, and then it was in his, too, before she could bring the words to her lips. She was suddenly afraid that maybe it was the wrong thing to say, that she had said too much, or too little.... "No, that's perfect," he said, softly. "Me, too, Dana." "You know," she said with a hint of a smile, "if you had said "bonded *to* you" my answer might have been different." He returned her smile. "I knew what I was doing. I chose my words deliberately." She relaxed and stroked his cheek. "This instant communication is a little scary. Unless I think to shield, before I even say something, you know what it is. An unguarded thought could really hurt. I can see that this could have its downside." "Yes, but right now let me show you the upside," he murmured. He buried his face in the curve between her neck and her shoulder, nibbling on what, for her, had always been an especially sensitive erogenous area. His hands had again slipped under her shirt to caress the skin down the length of her spine and back up again, just the way she had been hoping he would. She tightened her legs around his waist and gasped softly. "Show me more." End of Chapter 9 Chapter Ten Scully awoke when Lita came in to light the torches and lay the supper table. Placing a cautionary finger to her lips, she extricated herself from Mulder's limbs and reached for the shirt so hastily discarded a few hours before. She pulled on the long, full garment and slid out of bed. Then she and Lita went down the length of the room to stand near the hearth. "Try not to disturb him, he needs to rest. Leave the torches unlit for now. Just set the food out, in case he wakes up hungry. I'll take care of anything else." Lita regarded her with an impish grin. "Congratulations, Traveller Scully." Scully looked puzzled. "For what, Lita?" "On your validation, of course," she smiled. "What is this, written on a billboard somewhere?" Scully groaned. "First Jourdain and Aldara see us and then Reinald knows and now you know. Is there anyone who doesn't know?? "It's very hard to keep secrets here. It's in your aura," she explained. "My people are very sensitive to auras, and I'm more sensitive than most, more so than many Mages, it's been said. Anyway, you clearly share some Mage aura now. It's no wonder he needs his rest," she teased. Scully chuckled. "Thanks for your good wishes, Lita. Why don't you take the rest of the evening off, I don't think we'll be needing anything else. See you in the morning." She watched as the elf quickly finished laying the table in preparation for dinner, and departed. I wonder what it's going to be like having no secrets and damn little privacy, Scully thought, as she pulled on the rest of her clothes. Tenderness washed over her as she looked at Mulder on her way out. He was sprawled across the bed on his stomach, the bedclothes twisted around him, hair falling into his eyes, dreaming - dreaming of her! She smiled. Mentally she pulled down a light shield, blocking his dreams from her view. His dreams, at least, should be his own. She gently closed the door behind her. She found Corvay in his workroom as she expected. "My dear, come in, come in! Congratulations on your validation!" Scully's eyes rolled heavenward. She resignedly shook Her head, then she accepted his salutation with good grace. "I'm so happy for you. And for us, as this helps to further the Prophecy. Maybe we have a chance now. Please, have some tea and tell me why you're here, visiting an old elf like me when you could be with your bondmate." Corvay scurried about, finding the tea things and a couple of stools. "You knew all along about this lifebond - you even hinted about it when I first told you about the visions," Scully accused, curious. "Why didn't you tell me?" "It wasn't my place to tell you. Besides, Reinald asked me not to. He knew that Mulder was having a hard time with it, and unless it was absolutely essential to your welfare for you to know, he thought it best to just give him some time to come to terms with it. I agreed. So, now you're validated! Obviously this did not come to pass in the usual manner..." he looked at her expectantly. "Since I'm still not certain exactly what is meant by validation, I have no idea what the usual manner is," said Scully. "Oh, well, with validation there's a long period of preparation and training, then a very long and involved traditional ritual. This is followed by the families of the bondmates accompanying the couple to a special dwelling, and performing yet another long, complicated ceremony, and then leaving them there for several days. During that time the validation takes place." The little elf's nose twitched and his face was alight with curiosity. "I'm still just guessing to a certain extent, but if validation means what I think it means, no, it was nothing like that," Scully admitted, smiling. "I think it's something that Mulder and I have consciously avoided for a long time. We each decided independently that it would complicate things too much. Since we've been here, though, there have been changes. We've become closer, but - I don't know - I guess we've still been avoiding the issue. But last night, after all the horror at Wide River, we needed each other so badly, it just happened. It just seemed right - to affirm life - after so much death and destruction. Actually, that's why I'm here to see you. I had to do something in Wide River, something I didn't want to have to do, something that has been haunting me. I need your advice." Her smile had transformed into a troubled frown. "May I enter as a Healer and touch that memory, Scully?" he said formally, quite serious now. "You could tell me about it, but it would be preferable if I saw it as it actually happened. I must tell you though - you should know that this will also force you to see it again, to relive the moment actually, which will probably cause you some distress." She considered his request for a moment, thinking with a little wistfulness of the days when she was the only one with access to her mind. God, the last thing she wanted to do was to have to face those horrible moments again. She sighed, gathered all her courage, then she nodded. "Just relax." Corvay brought his stool next to hers, held her hand and was motionless for some time. When he finally broke contact several minutes later, both of their faces were wet with tears. "I'm so sorry, my dear. What a horrible experience. I don't think anything I could do could have prepared you adequately for that, not if I had had years to do it rather than weeks." "Corvay, did I do the right thing for that poor man?" Scully voice was still hoarse with grief and guilt. "Was there anything else I could have done?" "Nothing that would have changed the outcome for the poor devil. You were correct, there was no treatment for him. You had no option. You did precisely as I would have done. Sometimes the only thing a healer can do is offer a merciful death. That is doing your patient as much of a service as anything you can do in healing." "In my reality, healers are not permitted to do this. I can see both sides of the issue very clearly, in fact I accept some of the arguments against such action. But his suffering was so intense, and there was no purpose to it." The troubled expression remained on her face, her eyes still shimmering with tears. "The upcoming times are going to be filled with such situations Just know that what you are doing is right." He smiled sadly at her. She sniffed a little. "That helps, Corvay, it really does. I think I knew all along, but it helps to hear you say it." "I can help more, if you let me. I have a healing chant for such troubling thoughts - will you permit?" Shyly, she nodded. He held her hand lightly and thought rather than uttered the chant, the soothing words going deep into her very soul. He released her hand and let the words instill in her mind for a short time without distraction. Gradually, she returned to full awareness and smiled at him. "Better now, isn't it? Even your aura shines a bit brighter. Good, I'm glad an old being could help. Will you be in for your lesson tomorrow?" the tiny elf inquired. "I hope so. Things are happening so quickly. Have you seen the Prince?" "Yes." The little elf looked downcast again. "There's nothing I can do, not right now, anyway. Perhaps when a Mage has removed the spell, Andalor will need my assistance if his memories of the event have traumatized him, especially in view of his gift. As he is, I can do nothing." Scully nodded, knowing how much the admission probably hurt the soft-hearted elf. He was a Healer, he wanted nothing more than to stop the pain and the hurt, and sometimes it was not in his power. "Well, you've helped me. Corvay, thank you so much." Scully bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. "See you tomorrow," she smiled, as she stepped out into the dark garden. ~ ~ ~ Infuriated, Jourdain paced back and forth in Drellor's chambers. The revolting little man was smiling smugly, almost gloating. He had made a valid point and he knew it. "I admit I have never cared for Reinald. He is arrogant and obnoxious and uses his power for his own advancement, like so many Mages these days. Whether I think it was he that turned my nephew into such a deplorable condition is beside the point." He smiled nastily. "I happen to think that he did, but as I say, it is beside the point. What is to the point is that the Realm is in a state of terrible unrest, and only bringing the Prince's attacker to justice will quell the coming revolution." He paused to let his words sink in. "What is the point of bringing someone who is NOT the Prince's attacker to justice?" growled Jourdain. "Because nothing anyone can say will ever make me believe that Reinald knowingly did that child harm." Drellor shrugged. "First of all, it will prove to the Realm that the matter is in hand, and that no one can escape justice, no matter how powerful. That, in itself, is I believe a good enough reason to arrest Reinald without delay." His eyes narrowed as he saw the logic of his argument register with Jourdain. Much as the warrior did not want to admit it, Drellor's point was well taken. He had met with Aldara an hour ago, after she had had a chance to gather information from the mobs still camped outside and representatives of the noble houses and the other species of the Realm. The news was sobering. The Realm was teetering on the brink of collapse. Rumor ran rampant, fed by the factions who were eager to turn any situation to their advantage. Some factions were lining up behind Drellor, and a few were staying loyal to the Regent. Most were just fanning the flames of discontent and waiting for an opportunity to advance their own candidate to replace Reinald as Regent as soon as he was found guilty of putting the spell on the Prince. The populace was mostly concerned about the Prince and thirsting for justice for his enchanter. Aldara reported that Reinald had been correct - there was a lot of anti-Mage sentiment among the people, and they were terrified that the Prophecy was coming true. Drellor broke into Jourdain's thoughts. "Possibly, the spell was a mistake, maybe Reinald lost control of his power for a moment and inflicted harm when he was trying to do good. And now he is so consumed with guilt and regret that even he has blotted out the event from his memory." Drellor looked at Jourdain slyly. While the Royal Guard Captain might never admit to the possibility of Reinald harming the Prince deliberately, he might find the argument of a tragic mistake persuasive. He saw that he had made another direct hit. Again, Jourdain could not keep his expression neutral as he considered Drellor's suggestion. Not very likely, he thought, but just barely possible. He was under no illusions - he was not taken in by Drellor's act of rationality and devotion to the Realm. The man was scum, just out to get an enemy removed and himself named as Regent, so he would have control of the Realm. But Jourdain also knew how Drellor's arguments would sound to the factions and the people, if in fact he had not already broadcast them. Drellor was ready with his final salvo. "If, as you say, Reinald is completely innocent," he said earnestly, "what better opportunity for luring the malefactor into a state of security where he likely to err and reveal himself, than by Reinald's arrest? As the trial of Reinald proceeds, you can be waiting to trap the real enchanter." Jourdain stared at Drellor with distaste. Actually, he had had the same thought himself, he was ashamed to say. He strode over to within an inch of the pudgy little man, towering over him and purposely intimidating him as much as possible. "All right, Drellor, you have made your point. I go now to arrest my friend Reinald. But remember, one of those I shall be watching most closely is you!" He stomped over to the door and flung it open. Grejor almost fell into the room from the hallway, looking at Jourdain with terror. Jourdain snorted, now both of the other inhabitants of the room beneath his contempt. Growling, he strode out the door and down the hall. He stopped at the armory, and selected four guards to accompany him, then continued to Reinald's chambers, where he tapped on the door. Reinald himself answered. "Come in, my friend, I've been expecting you." He opened the door wide and stepped back to allow the Captain and his guards to enter. Jourdain's face was grave. "I'm sorry about this, Reinald. I would give all I have not to be doing this." "No, you're doing the right thing. But I have a few instructions for you." Reinald seemed to be taking his arrest calmly. The sleep he had had the past several candlemarks seemed to have done him a lot of good. "First, I give you charge over the Prince. See that he is kept somewhere safe - the armory, your quarters, wherever. But he is never to be left alone. I don't think there will be any further attempts on him, but it pays to be safe. Secondly, see that news of my arrest is broadcast immediately. This might calm some of the people's fears. Make sure everyone knows that you were instrumental in my arrest - it is important that you are seen more as an administrator of justice than as my friend and ally. And third, do not allow Mulder to see me." Jourdain's eyes grew wide and he gasped. "What? Do you suspect him? Do you think he may try to harm you?" "No, no, nothing of the sort. Just the opposite, in fact. The purity of his aura would dismiss that thought, if nothing else did. No, if anyone is acting for totally unselfish motives, it is Mulder and Scully. But again, it is not wise for them to be seen as too closely allied with me. They invite speculation because they are foreigners to begin with, and his being a Mage also makes him suspect. They must be able to move about freely in order to find the person that enchanted the Prince; they won't be able to do that if they are dogged by my enemies who also suspect them. Between ourselves, if Mulder and I need to communicate, we can do so, but in a way so no one else will know. Can you do these things for me?" Reinald inquired. "Of course, Reinald. "Have you made any progress on the plans for our defense from the Dark Realm?" "I haven't had much chance. I have met with Drellor, who knows I am about to arrest you and is no doubt clapping his fat little hands for joy." Jourdain glowered. "I have also met with Aldara concerning the status of our internal enemies. She has things well in hand there," he said with some pride, which was not lost on Reinald. In spite of his predicament, the Mage smiled, understanding only too well the source of that pride. "She has also given me the beginnings of an idea for our strategy against the evil ones. I dare not say more until I have had time to think." Reinald nodded. "Then you appear to have things under control, insofar as that is possible. Trust no one, my friend - no one except Mulder, Scully, Tarnor and Aldara. Of them I can be certain; to my sorrow, no one else," he said sadly. Then his voice picked up some energy. "Now. I have had an idea. I suggest we put on a little demonstration. Put me in shackles." "But Reinald, there is no need for that!" "I know, but it will look good for the mob below. You will take me up to the battlements and make the announcement of my arrest, I will show them my shackles, and then you will take me to the dungeon - the most commodious cell, please, I do not wish unnecessary discomfort - remove the shackles and then you will lock me up. That should please the mobs and our other enemies and give you a little respite from them as well." Reinald smiled. "Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Jourdain." Jourdain motioned for one of the guards to shackle Reinald's wrists. "But loosely, mind! Belspar, you will stay behind here to look after the Prince until my return. No one is to enter other than myself, is that clear?" The guard saluted and took went into the bedchamber where the Prince stood. Then the little group started the long walk through the hallways and up to the battlements. ~ ~ ~ Scully arrived back at their chamber to find Mulder pulling on his breeches and shirt. "Reinald's been arrested," he announced without preamble. "He just contacted me." "What are you going to do?" Scully said, concerned. "For the moment, nothing," replied Mulder. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want me to visit him in jail. It's getting fairly late to do anything tonight, as far as real investigation goes. I thought maybe we could use this time to come up with a plan of action for tomorrow. And eat. I'm starving, for some reason." "The fact that you haven't eaten today may have something to do with that. Let me see what Lita left us." Scully stirred the pot. "Looks like a vegetable stew. Let me just stick it on the fire for a few minutes to warm up. That was interesting, what Reinald said about the poor harvests for the past few years. I had noticed a certain sameness to the diet, but I figured that's just what people ate here. I didn't realize that it might be because of food shortages." "We're guests here, Scully. I'm sure we would have been the last to feel any effects from food shortages. Their natural sense of hospitality would have made sure of that. Things must be getting worse, though; meals have been pretty skimpy lately. And if we're going to be mobilizing troops, there will probably be some form of rationing imposed." Scully stirred the stew, then dished it into thick earthenware bowls, passing one to him. "Mulder?" "Oh, thanks," he said, distracted. "I didn't get most of that. What are you thinking about?" She dipped her spoon into her bowl and began eating. "Trying to think of a way to go about investigating this," he replied. "We really don't have any authority here, so the cooperation we get will be pretty haphazard. From the little that Reinald has told me about all the various political and family and species factions, an outsider doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell of figuring out what's going on with them. If the motive is purely political - someone out to remove the present authority and replace it with someone else - I think we're in trouble," Mulder said, frowning. "I agree. And from the little contact I've had with the noble houses and from what Aldara has said, I think the cooperation we can expect is somewhere between extremely limited and none," Scully said. "The thing is, Mulder, if the motive isn't political, what is it? I can't bring myself to believe that anyone here, not even the repulsive Drellor, would align himself with the forces of the Dark Realm. First, I don't think the creatures of the Dark Realm feel the need for an 'inside man' - they probably think that this Realm is theirs for the taking any time they want to take it. Also, there would be communication problems, assuming the creatures speak a different language, and there's no reason why they wouldn't. So I think we can eliminate treason, consorting with the enemy, that kind of thing. Want more stew?" "Please." Mulder pushed his bowl forward for another helping, then leaned back in his chair. "All right. I agree. Treason is out. Politics is something we don't want to consider unless all else fails. So what's left?" Mulder counted on his fingers. "Greed. Not a very good motive, in my opinion. I haven't noticed evidence of any great wealth around here. Maybe it's a result of an agrarian economy and consecutive years of poor harvests, but I'd say the movers and the shakers here at the castle are no better off than the farmers and merchants and craftsmen. Besides which, with the forces of the Dark Realm camped on our doorstep, how long could anyone reasonably expect to stay wealthy? Or alive, for that matter. So I would have to eliminate greed as a viable motive. What else?" "Revenge?" suggested Scully. "We know there was bad blood between Drellor and Reinald. And we know that anti- Mage feeling is running high. Maybe we shouldn't be looking for someone who wanted to harm the Prince or change the order of succession. Maybe we should be looking for someone who's out to get Reinald." Mulder nodded slowly, considering her suggestion. "A personal motive. I like it, Scully. It would certainly be much easier to investigate. Okay, what else? What other personal motives should we be considering?" "Love, requited or otherwise. Since Mages don't indulge - present company excepted, of course - that seems unlikely." Scully grinned at Mulder. "Your turn." "Jealousy. But jealous of what?" Mulder looked puzzled. "Reinald has better than average magical powers, but that's a gift. It isn't reasonable to be jealous of that." "We may not be dealing with someone who's thinking reasonably," Scully observed. "Good point. What else is there to be jealous of? Attention maybe?" Mulder posed. "You know what strikes me?" asked Scully. "The timing. Why now? It would seem to be a really stupid time to try to take over the Realm, with the Dark Forces breathing down our necks. That's another reason I think this is personal, Mulder. As part of a plan for acquiring power or wealth, it's insane, it makes no sense at all. But if this is just some person acting out of anger or jealousy or frustration, then it does make sense." "Scully, you're right!" Mulder leapt to his feet and started pacing, just the way he had done so frequently back in his basement office at FBI headquarters a lifetime ago. "This makes it much easier. Now we just have to compile a list of suspects - people who would have reason to want to get back at Reinald for some personal reason, probably anger, revenge or jealousy. Or any ideas about who we can eliminate? We can't ignore the fact that someone without magical powers might have hired an unscrupulous Mage to do the dirty work, either, though I'd still lean towards someone with Mage ability - and quite a bit of it. I know from experience that a spell as complex as this one is not easy to build or use." "Well, I vote we eliminate Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor for a start," she said. "First of all, they were with us in Wide River. I suppose that wouldn't prevent them from having hired someone, but still. I know Aldara pretty well. I'm aware she doesn't particularly like Mages, and that might be seen as a motive. But if she got angry, she'd slit Reinald's throat in a temper. She wouldn't plot, nor would she use an innocent kid to get back at him. It's just not her style." "I agree, one hundred percent. Having been on the receiving end of her temper, I know you're right. If she lost it, she'd be perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage before she came to her senses, but never something like this." Mulder's eyes narrowed as he thought. "Okay, what about Jourdain? He too strikes me as a very up-front kind of guy. If pushed, he'd run someone through with a sword, but he wouldn't hatch plots. Nor would he harm the Prince. That's out of the picture psychologically, he has an innate awe and respect for authority figures. Tarnor?" Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe he'd do this. He does have Mage ability which should put him on the suspect list, but in all the time we've spent with him, both in the forest and at Wide River, he hasn't done or said anything suspicious." "Okay, so who does that leave, that we know of?" Scully's eyes lit up with an idea. "Maybe it was an elf - they're supposed to have a fairly high level of natural magical ability. But not Corvay - I refuse to believe that. He's devastated about the Prince. Besides, he's in my mind and I'm in his all the time. If he had anything to hide, I think he would have made some kind of excuse to stop my lessons. He couldn't be certain that I wouldn't take a peek someplace in his head I wasn't supposed to be." Mulder smiled, intrigued and as always, burning with curiosity. "Someday you're going to have to teach me how that psychic healing works. Anyway, about elves. I suppose it's possible. But Reinald's been so busy with me, he hasn't had time to even notice the existence of anyone else, let alone time to piss off some elf so badly that the elf would want to put a spell on the Prince and a frame on Reinald." Mulder sat and leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Who had the thought first, neither could say. But suddenly, the both sat upright. "Grejor!" "It makes perfect sense, Mulder. He has magical abilities, so he had means. He was here at the castle, so he had opportunity. He was the apple of Reinald's eye until you came along. Then all Grejor was good for was sweeping up smashed bottles and serving tea and other menial tasks." Scully's face was lit with enthusiasm. "He's jealous of Reinald's attention to you, your training, and your abilities. His training has come to a standstill, while Reinald has devoted himself to you. He's probably even been jealous of the affection between Reinald and Andalor. So he had a motive." She frowned. "What I can't understand is why he didn't target you. He should be more angry with you than with anyone." "That's something we'll have to ask him. It makes sense that he's got the Mage talent. I didn't like the idea that a Mage handed off such a powerful spell to someone else to activate - it could explode too easily in the wrong direction. Although from occasional things Reinald has let slip, Grejor is not exactly a prodigy. But it's still our best shot. All right, so we consider Grejor our prime suspect," Mulder said. "Now how do we flush him out? Any ideas?" "Too bad they don't have polygraphs here," Scully joked. Mulder stared at her. "But they do!" "What?" Scully stared at him. "They do." Mulder sat forward to explain. "Whenever Reinald was trying to be evasive or less that completely truthful, something happened to his aura. The best way I can explain it is that it flickered, and the tone got very slightly darker. Now, Reinald has an aura that's really easy to distinguish, because he's so powerful. I'm not very good at auras at the best of times. We kind of glossed over that part of the training because it wasn't really a priority. In fact, Reinald admitted to me that auras weren't his specialty either, that reading auras took a lot of concentration on his part. Anyway, theoretically, Grejor's aura should undergo some tell-tale changes if he lies while we're questioning him. Unfortunately with my lack of skill at reading auras, I don't think I'd be able to see it well enough to discern slight changes." "Lita!" Scully exclaimed. "Where?" Mulder glanced behind him quickly, thinking that she had just come in. "What about Lita?" "Lita knew immediately that we - ummmm - were "validated", because she could see it in my aura. She said she was especially good at reading auras, better than some Mages, she said. Do you think she would help us?" "We can ask in the morning. Okay, now that we have our prime suspect and a way to gather evidence, we need to think about something else." Scully looked quizzically at him. "What kind of evidence do we need?" Mulder prompted. "For all we know, their justice system works like trial by fire or the Spanish Inquisition or the Salem witch trials. I think we need to find out the course of the trial and what kind of evidence is admissible or inadmissible. Also we need to get a time frame. Will the trial be tomorrow, next month, next year?" Mulder sighed. "Not that I think we have that long." He stood up, restless. "It's not too terribly late, is it? Do you think we could go ask Jourdain or Aldara?" "I don't see why not," said Scully, standing. "I know you - you'll be up all night thinking about it if we don't find out." He put his arms around her. "I may be up all night, but that is NOT what I'll be doing." Scully laughed. "Let's go, Mulder." ~ ~ ~ The two tapped at Aldara's door, hoping for better luck than they had had finding Jourdain. There had been no answer at his door, and too many possibilities for where he might be. It had taken them some time to get to Aldara's quarters. She lived outside of the castle proper, although within the gates, in one of the small outbuildings by the stable. They waited a minute or two, then tapped again. "Maybe it's too late at night to go visiting," Scully said. Just as they were turning to leave, the door opened. Aldara stood in her breeches, her shirt untucked, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. Scully smiled and whispered so only Aldara could hear, "It seems that turnabout is fair play." Louder, she said, "We had some questions about your justice system. Can you help us?" Aldara chuckled and pulled the door back to allow them to enter. Jourdain was inside, sitting decorously at the table, but with the same high color in his cheeks and an uncharacteristically mussed look. "Ah, Jourdain, good," said Mulder, apparently oblivious to the fact that he and Scully had interrupted something. "We need to pick your brain." "What?" Evidently the language spell had problems with that idiom. "Sorry. We need to get some information from you. What happens now to Reinald? When will the trial start, how long will it last, what kind of evidence will we need?" Mulder sat at the table, nodding his thanks to Aldara as she pushed a mug of tea his way. "This kind of trial is unusual, there hasn't been one in living memory," Jourdain began. "When the accused is a high noble or a member of Royalty, human or otherwise, the structure is a little different. The Council of Representatives is called into session. They act as the jury. Unfortunately, because it is so highly factioned, the way they will determine guilt or innocence is based less on the evidence and more on politics and family histories. Representatives of the other species' governments are also invited to sit. They will probably be much more influenced by the actual evidence. Torture as a means of gathering evidence is illegal, as is the use of magic spells. Everything else is admissible. Usually the prosecution makes its case very quickly and doesn't present a great deal of evidence." He grunted. "It doesn't have to. Unless the defense evidence is overwhelming, the accused is always found guilty." Mulder and Scully looked at each other. "Now I see why you didn't want to arrest Reinald." Scully said. "Exactly," replied Jourdain, grimly. "When will the trial take place?" "Normally in one to three days from the time of arrest. But these are not normal times. Because of the travel hazards and the problems with communication due to the Dark Realm incursions, it will take longer to get everyone here. Maybe a week, no longer than that. The trial itself won't take more than two days. The sentence is carried out immediately." Mulder stirred uncomfortably. "If Reinald is found guilty, what's that sentence likely to be?" Jourdain sighed heavily. "If Reinald is found guilty, he will receive the death sentence." Mulder and Scully gaped at him. He looked over at them, then lowered his eyes. "It gets worse. As Captain of the Royal Guard, I will be his executioner." End Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Scully lay comfortably in the enormous bed, letting her mind wander. Idly, she wondered what time it was. The light that filtered through the opaque bedcurtains was diffuse, deceiving. It was after dawn, anyway. She looked down at Mulder, his head pillowed on her breasts. He looked absurdly young when he was asleep, she thought. She absently stroked his hair, and he stirred a little, his arms tightening around her as if to reassure himself of her presence, then relaxing again. What the hell had they been so afraid of? How much would this actually have complicated things, she wondered. The past two days with him had been - incredible. Now she regretted all the time they could have been sharing this closeness, but had chosen not to for reasons which now seemed impossible to fathom. There was a soft tap at the door, and Scully heard it open and close. Lita. "Mulder," she whispered, and leaned down to gently touch her lips to his. "Mmmm." Still half asleep, he reached for her, to prolong and deepen the kiss. Funny how in just two days that reaction had become automatic. Scully smiled against his lips. "Not now, love. Time to get up.... No, I know you are, I don't mean that. Lita's here." Mulder sighed and rolled over onto his back and stretched. Finally he opened his eyes. "Breakfast! I'm starved." "Never let it be said you aren't a romantic." "Mmm, well, you're the one who said 'not now.' Scully, you don't suppose you can find me something to wear?" She tossed him his shorts from the bottom of the bed, slipped on her nightshirt, and slid out of bed. "Good morning , Lita. We have a favor to ask you," Scully said, crossing to the breakfast table and seating herself. "Of course, Traveller Scully. What can I do for you?" Lita answered without pausing from her task of filling the copper tub with bath water. Mulder finally appeared from behind the bedcurtains and shuffled to the table. "Scully tells me you have a gift for seeing auras. We're going to need some help interpreting someone's aura. Specifically, trying to determine if this person is telling the truth. I've noticed aural changes when someone lies. What do you think, is that true?" "Oh, yes, quite true. The more vibrant the person's aura, the easier it is to tell, but yes, there's almost always some kind of change. Strictly speaking, it isn't related to lying, as much as trying to hide something," Lita said. "I had a brother who was always into mischief and trying to get away with things. He was always surprised he got caught. It took him ages to figure out his aura gave him away. He was not blessed with intelligence, that one." Scully smiled. "So will you help us?" "Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?" Lita looked expectantly from Scully to Mulder. "Just come with us when we question someone," replied Mulder. "Don't say anything until afterwards, when we're alone again, then give us your impressions of what happened to his aura when certain questions were asked. Can you do that?" Lita nodded. "Who are you going to question?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other and a rapid flurry of messages passed between them. Deciding that they were committed to trusting her, Scully finally said "Mage Apprentice Grejor." "Him!" snorted Lita. "I could tell you stories about that one, I could!" Mulder tried to keep the keen interest out of his voice. "Like what, Lita?" She lowered her voice. "Well, I'm not a gossip as the gods well know, but that one has no business being a Mage Apprentice. His gifts are ordinary, very ordinary," she sniffed disdainfully. "Many's the time Reinald almost went mad from frustration trying to teach him. It's been said the only reason Reinald kept him on is that he felt sorry for him. That, and Grejor's determination. He is ambitious, determined to go back to his village as a trained Mage." She stopped and frowned. "What is it?" asked Scully. "Well, now that I think about it," Lita said slowly, "I haven't been running into Grejor as often as usual for the past few days - in fact, I don't think I've actually laid eyes on him for a week or more. I've had a couple of errands to do that involved going to Reinald's chambers, but Grejor always seemed to disappear into another room or a closet whenever I showed up." "Lita, is your ability to read auras well known throughout the castle?" asked Scully, catching Mulder's eye. "Pretty well known. In fact, Reinald himself asked me to help him concerning an aural problem," she finished proudly. "Was Grejor apprenticed to Reinald then?" asked Mulder. "Wait, let me think. Yes, I believe so, very early in his apprenticeship, it was. No, wait! It was when Grejor was being considered for the apprentice post. That's it," Lita smiled. "Reinald himself was having problems reading Grejor's aura. Reinald's really not very good at auras for such a powerful Mage and Grejor's aura is very strange anyway. Blue, but a little on the pale side for anyone with Mage ability, and kind of - 'dusty' - is the only way I can describe it. So Reinald asked me to read Grejor's aura for him. I think Grejor was upset about that - a mere maidservant interpreting his aura. He tends to be a little defensive about his aura as it is. So anyway, I told Reinald what I saw." Scully was almost afraid what the outspoken Lita might have said. "What did you tell him?" "Well, I was nice to the lad. He couldn't help it, after all. I was honest with Reinald about the aura - that's a matter of pride with me - but then I said he was a likely looking lad and I was sure that he would work hard. And he has, I'll give him that. He'll do anything to get ahead. All right, will there be anything else?" "Are you coming back for my bath?" asked Mulder hopefully. What had begun as an embarrassing ordeal had become for him a highly appreciated luxury, almost a decadence, that he happily anticipated every morning. Lita laughed. "Heavens no, you're validated now, Mage! That is now something your bondmate may do if she wishes, no one else. I've filled the tub, I'll empty it when you're finished. That's where my duties end now." "Oh. Well, thank you for setting me straight on that," said Mulder, disappointed. "Yes, check back with us in a little while, then we'll go see Grejor." She left, and they began to eat breakfast. Mulder seemed distracted. "Uhhhm...Scully...?" "Only if you promise to behave." ~ ~ ~ They were almost ready when Lita rapped at the door about an hour later. While waiting, she busied herself with clearing away the breakfast things, then turned to the tub. She surveyed the flood of water on the floor surrounding the tub and shook her head. "There's a trick to emptying the tub. Leave it for me, don't try to do it yourself." "That's not - " Mulder began. "Thank you, Lita, we'll remember that," said Scully hastily. She finished braiding her damp hair. "Okay, let's go." The three walked through the hallways to Reinald's chambers and knocked. There was no answer. They then checked Grejor's quarters, the food hall, the courtyard and the stables, all without success. "All right, I'm open to suggestions, ladies," said Mulder, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "Any ideas where Grejor might be?" Lita shook her head. "I can put the word out amongst the servants, Mage. That'll probably work as well as anything. Meanwhile, there's duties I must get back to." "Yes, of course. Sorry for wasting your time, Lita," said Mulder. "We'd appreciate your spreading the word. We'll see you tonight; sooner if you find out anything." They sighed simultaneously as they watched her leave. "Mulder, let's try Drellor. He may know where Grejor is. Whether he wants to tell us is another story," said Scully. "Interesting, what Jourdain said about Grejor being at Drellor's chamber yesterday. There may be a perfectly good reason for it, of course, something perfectly innocent, but somehow I kind of doubt it. It sounded like Grejor had been eavesdropping. Besides, Drellor is such a worm, I can't believe anything good about him." "It can't hurt," agreed Mulder, and they struck out for Drellor's quarters. Scully rapped on the door. Drellor's frown turned to an oily smile when he saw Scully. "Oh my dear, how lovely of you to visit me." He had grabbed her hand and put it to his wet lips when he caught sight of a glowering Mulder behind her. He dropped her hand abruptly. "Oh, and Mage Mulder, I am so honored," he said, with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Scully. "What can I do for you?" "We've been looking for Grejor. I don't suppose you'd have any idea where he is, would you?" asked Mulder, somewhat imperiously. "What would you want Grejor for?" asked Drellor suspiciously. "We need to consult with him regarding some magic. With Reinald in jail, Grejor is the only source I have for some of Reinald's books and so on," Mulder answered smoothly. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Now if you don't mind, I have much to do." Drellor looked pointedly at them, and then the door. "I'm glad to see you bearing up so well, what with the tragedy involving your nephew and all," said a very sympathetic Scully. "It must have been a terrible shock for you. Evidently, Drellor didn't have an ear for sarcasm. "My dear, you have no idea what a blow it's been! That's why I have decided to put all my energy into preparing for the trial. I have applied for and been accepted for the role of Prosecutor Royal." The dreadful little man puffed up his chest and began almost strutting around the room. "Yes, if I can't have my beloved Andalor back to normal, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I have done everything in my power to bring Reinald to justice." "Then you have no doubt that Reinald did it?" Contempt hung on every one of Mulder's words. "None whatsoever," Drellor snapped. "Maybe you can help me, Drellor," said Scully. "We're foreigners and not used to your ways. What happens at the trial, and what will you do? Prosecutor Royal sounds like a very powerful and responsible position." Drellor decided to ignore Mulder's presence in the room and just address himself to Scully, who obviously had much more respect for his position. "My dear, it is, it is. It will be my job to present the Crown's case and to bring in witnesses who can help to show Reinald's guilt." "What witnesses?" asked Scully, puzzled. "I was under the impression that no one knew about it until the Prince was found hours later. Of course, I only know what I hear around the castle, I'm sure you're privy to much more reliable information." "Well, no one saw the actual act itself, no, that's quite true. But there's such a thing as intent, and that will go a long way to proving our case. We will have a very powerful and incriminating witness who can testify to the fact that Reinald had been working on this spell and spoke many times about how Andalor was a thorn in his side." Drellor looked smug. "Well, you certainly seem to have thought of everything," Scully said, a look of admiration on her face. "I'm so sorry we disturbed you. I know you have a lot to do. If you see Grejor, just tell him we're looking for him. Thanks for your time." She favored him with a lovely smile. "Goodbye, my dear. You are welcome back any time." He emphasized the "you." Drellor bent over her hand once again. In a much colder tone, he said, "Goodbye, Mage Mulder." They walked in silence all the way back to their chamber before Mulder started chuckling. "Scully, that was absolutely the most disgusting display of fawning I think I have ever seen in my life. I had no idea you were capable of such duplicity. You may have missed your true calling on the stage. Or possibly as a bunco artist. I learn more fascinating things about you all the time. Come here." When she complied, he wrapped his arms around her. "A whole new slant on the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine," she agreed, looking up at him. "Obsequious Cop/Contemptuous Cop maybe. But we found out a couple things we didn't know before. I would bet any amount of money that Grejor is the star prosecution witness..." "...and Drellor has him stashed away until the trial. I think you're right," Mulder said, resting his cheek on her hair. "It certainly makes a lot of sense. Grejor can testify that he saw Reinald practicing a spell to turn things to stone, and had been talking about how he wanted to exercise more power as Regent." Reluctantly, he let go of her - he needed to pace. "I can't think of anyone else who would be such a strong witness. But he'll be perjuring himself, Scully, and that might be our chance." "I hate to have it wait until the trial," replied Scully, uncomfortable with the prospect. "That's cutting it awfully close. If for some reason the aural changes don't occur or aren't convincing, we don't have anything to fall back on, and almost no time to come up with anything else. She added grimly, "It's not like there's a long appeals process here." "No. So Drellor is the Prosecutor," said Mulder thoughtfully. "That might help us. The man is clever, but not particularly intelligent, and his conceit is a huge weakness." Just then there was a knock at their door. Mulder opened it to discover Tarnor, looking up at him anxiously. "Tarnor! Come in." Scully began to prepare tea. They had been in the Realm long enough now that they were starting to observe some of its customs. One of the greatest breaches of Realm etiquette was not to offer tea to a guest. Mulder seated Tarnor in one of the armchairs by the hearth, and brought over a wooden chair for himself. Once tea had been made and served, the reason that had brought the little gargoyle to their chamber could be discussed. Tarnor accepted the mug gratefully and shifted in his chair. "I've been named Defender Royal. I'm not happy about it, but I can't think of anyone else to do it, and besides, Reinald asked me, so it's official. Reinald said to talk to you, that you're trying to find out who really cast the spell on the Prince. Have you found out anything?" He looked at them hopefully. "We're working on it, Tarnor," Mulder said. "We think we know who did it and why. It's now a matter of getting proof, and we have a plan for that. But I don't know if it will be enough. From what Jourdain told us, the defense evidence has to be overwhelming. I'm not sure we'll have that." Tarnor shook his head. "Poor Jourdain. He would rather cut his own throat than be in the position he's in right now. If it weren't for the incursion of the Dark Realm, he'd resign. But he feels the Realm needs him, and it does. I'll tell you this, if Reinald is found guilty and Jourdain must do his duty as Captain of the Royal Guard, it will be the end of him. He'll lead the fight against the Dark Realm, but he won't survive it - he'll see to that." Scully nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're right, of course - there's more than just Reinald's life at stake here. With Reinald gone, no one is likely to be able to take the spell off the Prince, so in essence, he'll be dead. And Jourdain." She thought of Aldara. If Jourdain fell on the field of battle, she knew that Aldara would follow him into death, at his side and taking as many of the enemy with her as possible. She shook her head, trying to erase the picture. She felt Mulder's mind give hers a reassuring squeeze. "Well, we'll just have to come up with enough evidence to clear Reinald," she said with a confidence she didn't feel. Tarnor's face lightened a bit. "Can you do that? Who do you think enchanted the Prince?" "We're pretty sure it's Grejor," said Mulder. Briefly he explained their reasoning and their plan for using Grejor's aural changes as evidence. "Obviously, we'd prefer to find out before the trial starts if the plan will work by questioning him and having someone interpret his aura. But Grejor seems to have disappeared." "Drellor's hiding him,' Tarnor grunted. "I'm sure of it. He's probably trying to keep him away from you." He sat up and looked more animated than he had since arriving. "I'll tell you something else - I've worked side by side with Grejor. I probably know him better than anyone. I'm going to give you a list of names - all Mages who aren't above dabbling in the Black Arts. Grejor won't have dreamed up that spell himself, he hasn't got the talent. But he's perfectly capable of casting a spell that someone else has made up. Grejor is terribly ambitious. He was complaining to me one day a long time ago of the slow pace of his training, and muttered something about there being a faster way to get what he wanted. I can't be sure, but I think the Black Arts is what he had in mind. You'll need to be careful with these people, Mage Mulder. They are not overwhelmingly powerful, but they are clever and unscrupulous." As Scully looked for parchment, ink and quill pen, Mulder said, "If we can trace the spell, that would help enormously. What do you think the chances are of these people cooperating?" Tarnor shrugged. He accepted the writing materials from Scully and started to jot down names. "I don't know. It's hard to say. Perhaps better than we expect, especially if Grejor has done something to anger them. Such as inviting the scrutiny of a Mage asking all sorts of difficult questions." He handed the list to Mulder and wiggled down from the chair. "Remember, use great care and watch your back. Be ready for anything with these people." The little being started for the door. "Thank you. You've raised my spirits already. I actually think we may have a chance now." He flashed them the alarming gargoyle grin, and left. "What are your plans now? Are you going to check out that list?" Scully asked. "No, I have some research to do, a little assignment from Reinald," Mulder said. Scully looked at him. She couldn't believe he wouldn't want to start investigating Tarnor's list immediately. Mulder shook his head. "Remember when he communicated with me immediately before we left his chambers? He made me promise to make this a priority - looking for a way to reverse the spell on the Prince. He told me that nothing, not even his defense, was to come before this." "But, Mulder," argued Scully, "If we put all our energy into finding the person who put the spell on the Prince, we'll have a better idea of how to reverse it." "That's true only if the guilty party - as we believe, Grejor - decides to confess all and cooperate in reversing the spell. Certainly that would be the best solution to the problem. However, Reinald was of the opinion that we're likely not to have that kind of cooperation, and it may be up to us to find a way. I'll start checking out the names on the list tomorrow. What are you going to do?" "Do you want me to start checking on some of those names?" "Absolutely not, Scully. When we go, it will be together. As it is, when we go tomorrow, I'm going to have to provide a little supernatural protection for us - I wouldn't trust these characters as far as I could throw them." "In that case, I have a lesson with Corvay, if you don't need me for anything else. If Wide River was any example, there's a lot more about healing I have to learn," Scully said, suppressing a shudder. "Let me know if Grejor turns up or anything important happens, okay?" Mulder looked up from the list and smiled warmly at her - a smile that touched not only his eyes, but his mind, and hers as well. "See you back here for dinner?" Nodding, she returned his smile, caressing his mind. Then she was out the door. ~ ~ ~ With a terrific headache and profound tiredness, Scully finally sank onto a stool. Corvay had been at it for hours, teaching her the chants and stasis spells and other healing techniques reserved for those with the most severe injuries. She felt more prepared for the upcoming carnage now, while hating the fact that it was necessary. Her next lesson would be more difficult still - learning the release chants which would quickly exchange pointless agonized suffering for peaceful death. Wordlessly, she accepted the mug of tea Corvay handed her and took the first scalding sip, eagerly anticipating the resulting spread of warmth and energy. She sighed. "You did well, my dear, very well. Learn these chants and you will be a Healer in every way my equal." Corvay looked at her anxiously. "I'm not going too fast, driving you too hard, am I?" "No, Healer," she half-smiled at him. "Unfortunately, it's necessary. We don't have any idea how much time we have before the invasion of the Dark Realm forces starts in earnest. We have to be ready." "Your healing skills will be.... Scully, are you all right?" The little elf went to her side in response to her look of concentration and concern. "Yes." Scully took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Corvay, we need to get to where Reinald is imprisoned, right away. Mulder is on his way there. Something's wrong with Reinald, Mulder doesn't know what, but he thinks it may be serious. We need to get there now!" The two moved as fast as Corvay's short little legs could carry him, running along hallways and down staircases for what seemed like miles, before finally descending the last staircase and arriving in the dungeon. Mulder had gotten there before them and was in the process of interrogating one of the guards. The atmosphere felt electrically charged and damp. Scully looked around and up at the ceiling, then mentally reminded Mulder to shield. He caught her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, and paused a second to do so. The climate started to change immediately. He broke away from the guard and approached her, as Corvay scurried into the open door of Reinald's cell.. "Mulder, what happened?" Scully said anxiously. "I was reading when I suddenly heard Reinald talking to me, saying he had been drugged. By the time he realized it himself, he was almost in a stupor. I contacted you and I followed his thoughts to him as far as I could, then he lost consciousness. Then I had to get directions for the rest of the way here. When I got here he was comatose and unresponsive." "Did he have any idea who did this to him?" Mulder shook his head. "No, he had just had some tea, it must have been in that. He didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. According to the guards, the first they knew anything was wrong was when I got here and started yelling at them to let me into his cell. Jourdain should be on his way." Scully and Mulder went into Reinald's cell. Corvay was bent over him, his face twisted in concentration. Impatiently they waited for his assessment. Finally the little healer dropped Reinald's hand and opened his eyes. He picked up the tea cup by the side of the bed and delicately sniffed at it, then put it down. Standing, he motioned them out of the cell. "He's in a deep coma. I have identified the herbal involved. As you may have suspected, it was introduced into his tea. It's relatively rare, but I am familiar with its properties. Reinald will need watching, but the best treatment is for him to simply sleep it off." Corvay looked from Mulder to Scully. "I could attempt to erase or reverse the effects, but such treatment isn't normally used and can have some dangerous side effects. If there is no pressing need for him to be conscious, I would suggest we allow him to sleep. I will stay here with him, just in case." "Could this drug have killed him?" Mulder asked the healer. "It's unlikely. It could have, but that would be unexpected. Even at quite high doses, the effect seems to be more or less the same, the length of the coma is the only variant." "How long do you think this will last?" Corvay considered. "From the amount I deduce he has ingested, I would not expect him to be back to normal for three or four days. If he had finished that cup of tea, he would have been out for five or six days." "In other words, almost until the trial," said Mulder. Corvay nodded. "He may have very brief periods of sentience starting probably the day after tomorrow. I would prefer to use those times for giving him fluids, rather than having him talk, unless it is critical." He looked at Mulder. "No, Corvay, you take care of him. Whatever you say is fine." He lowered his voice. "Actually, we made plans before he was arrested to deal with this eventuality. I would suggest that from now on his food and drink is tested." "While Scully is here and can stay with Reinald, I'll go back and fetch the teas and potions I will need from my workroom. We won't trust anything that doesn't come from there." "Good plan," said Mulder. Scully went into Reinald's cell to watch over him and Corvay left to fetch supplies from his workroom. A deep growling voice came from the staircase and preceded the entry of Jourdain. "I had a few words with the Healer. I gather the news is not serious?" Jourdain said. "Serious enough. But I don't think anyone wanted to kill Reinald," Mulder said slowly. "Certainly if they had wanted to they could have. But for some reason they didn't." "Then why would anyone do such a thing?" Jourdain demanded. "Reinald wasn't going anywhere." "I think to prevent his communicating with me. We kept up a telepathic communication from the time of his arrest - I could ask his advice, he could give me information. Obviously, someone thought that was dangerous." Mulder paused. "Whoever it was seems certain that Reinald will be found guilty. Otherwise, I think they would have just slipped him a lethal dose of poison and been done with it. Whoever drugged him wants him to go through the torment of the trial and execution, wants him to die in shame. And that, Jourdain, speaks of someone with a lot of hatred for Reinald." The Captain grunted. "Do you know who did it?" "We're working on it and I think we're getting pretty close," Mulder said encouragingly. "Certainly this attack on Reinald is a sign that someone is worried about what we might find out." "May the gods prove you right, Mage," Jourdain sighed. "I don't know how I'll get through this if he is found guilty." "I know. We're doing everything we can. Tarnor gave us some more information that may prove valuable." Mulder smiled. "We have a plan. Try not to worry." Jourdain shrugged. "I think I'll sit by my old friend a while." Mulder nodded. Scully stepped out of the cell to give him some privacy. The grizzled soldier had seemed close to tears when he entered the cell. Answering her unspoken question, Mulder said, "It could have been Grejor, it's hard to say. Could have been one of Drellor's lackeys, too. I don't think we'll ever prove it either way. Reinald didn't know who slipped him the drug, I'm certain of that." Corvay returned with Aldara in tow, both loaded down with pots and jars and kettles. "I have everything I'll need for the next three days. After that, I'll need someone to go back for more supplies. Scully?" "I'll be happy to, Healer," Scully replied. Corvay nodded, then entered Reinald's cell and started unpacking his potions. Aldara put down what she had carried into the cell and stood looking at Jourdain for a few minutes. He appeared to have turned to stone himself as he sat by his friend's bedside, holding his hand. She walked out of the cell and over to Scully and Mulder. "Scully, would you walk with me back to my quarters? I need to ask your advice about something." Aldara's voice was uncharacteristically tentative and her eyes reddened. "Sure, give me just a second." The half elf moved away to the staircase. "Mulder, I'd better go, she seems really upset," Scully whispered, searching his face. "Do you mind?" "Of course not, go." Mulder smoothed back some hair that had escaped from her braid. "I'll be leaving here shortly anyway, there's not much I can do. I'll just go back to our room. We probably missed Lita - she'll have set out supper by now." "Go ahead and eat without me. I don't know how long this will take. Just save me some and I'll have it when I get back." She sent him a more personal farewell along their mind link and reached up to touch his cheek. He captured her hand and held it there for a few seconds, sending his own message. She blushed lightly and smiled, then joined Aldara and the two left. Mulder strolled into Reinald's cell. Jourdain hadn't moved a muscle. He squatted down next to the healer and spoke in a very low voice. "Corvay? I'm going now. Send a guard for me if you need me for anything. Let me know if his condition worsens, all right? And you might suggest to Jourdain to limit access down here to only those we know we can trust." "Don't worry Mage, Reinald will do fine." Corvay turned his head to observe the scene at the bedside. "He's doing better than Jourdain," he remarked with sympathy. There was no adequate reply to make. Mulder merely nodded and then made his way out of the dungeon. ~ ~ ~ Lita had indeed already prepared their chamber for night when he got back. The torches were lit, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and the table was set for dinner. He lifted the lid of the pot set on the hearth coals - looked like some kind of soup. He sniffed it appreciatively. Lately his appetite had been enormous. Rather inconvenient, with the food shortages becoming worse and worse. There's your incredible timing again, Mulder, he said to himself. He ladled out some soup and sipped several spoonfuls of the hot, savory liquid. The edge off his hunger, he now took the time to pick up the knife and start slicing the warm loaf of black bread on the cutting board. After the fifth slice, he put the knife down and flexed his right hand. Strange, he thought. The pins and needles sensation in his hand and the numbness in his fingertips must be some kind of side effect to Gate building - little wonder, all that raw energy coursing down his arms and out his fingers. He picked up a slice of bread and munched on it thoughtfully for a minute or two. It was as he lifted the spoon to his lips again that the first pain hit him. "Aaaaghh!" Mulder's face contorted in torment as a spasm twisted his stomach, leaving him shaking and sweating when it passed a few seconds or an eternity later. He struggled for breath, feeling like he couldn't get enough air. Now both hands felt numb, and his lips and his feet. He focused his thoughts. "Scully, I need you...poison...." He got no further. This time the pain drove him to his knees, leaving him helpless to do anything other than grab his abdomen and scream in agony. His chest got tighten and tighter, until it was just too hard to fight against the pain and the tightness anymore, and he welcomed oblivion as a friend. ~ ~ ~ "Aldara, the only thing you can do is to be there for him." Scully sat across the table from her friend, rubbing her right hand absently. "It's thankless, it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do, but you can't force the issue. He'll just freeze you out. When he's ready and he needs you enough, he'll come to you and you'll be there for him." Scully looked at her friend with sympathy. "Believe me, I've been there and I know." Aldara smiled sadly. "I just wish I could do more." Scully nodded. "I know exactly -" Suddenly she went dead white and grabbed her midsection, barely containing a scream of pain. "Oh, God, Mulder!" she breathed. As much as she hated herself for it, she shielded herself from him. She couldn't help him if she were writhing on the floor, sharing his agony. "Aldara, get Corvay, quick! Mulder's been poisoned and I think he's dying. Bring Corvay to our chamber. Go!" While Aldara ran in one direction, Scully headed for the chamber she shared with her bondmate, running until her sides ached and her lungs burned. She burst into the room and to Mulder's side on the floor by the table. He was unconscious, cyanotic and barely breathing, twitching from time to time as spasms continued to wrack his body. Damn, Mulder, don't die, please, she pleaded. She started mouth to mouth resuscitation, seeing his color improve slightly after a few minutes. In contact with him, she entered his mind and body as a healer, easily finding the toxins that were ravaging his body. Plant alkaloids. Neurotoxins. Probably from poisonous mushrooms. I can do this, she told herself. I've learned this. Frantically, she mentally searched through her repertoire of healing spells and chants, looking for the one which would eliminate this poison. She seized on it, gave Mulder a few more breaths, then started the chant. She didn't notice when Corvay and Aldara ran breathless into the room. She noticed only that another voice took up the chant, adding strength, helping her first to visualize, then to destroy the toxins that were killing her bondmate. Aldara put the potion they had brought with them onto the fire to heat. All three would need the restorative when the chant was finished. She looked at the Mage. He had lost the alarming blue color he had when they arrived and seemed to be breathing by himself now. He and the healers continued to endure spasms of pain which occasionally wrung an involuntary gasp from them. Finally, after more than a candlemark, the chant slowed to a stop, and the healers sagged with exhaustion. Mulder lay pale and quiet on the floor, breathing normally. Aldara pulled on the braided cord on the wall. Within a minute or two Lita was there. Together they got Mulder into bed. Then they assisted the healers to armchairs and poured the restorative potion. They held the cups to the healers' lips until they had regained enough strength to drink unassisted. Eyes blazing, Aldara turned on Lita. "Tell me about your dinner preparations. Did they include poison?" Lita drew back, horrified at first, then the elven temper flared. She met Aldara's glare and snapped, "I prepared the food and the room as I always do. No one was here, so I have no witnesses. But I didn't do it! The Travellers are my responsibility. Whoever did this has made me their enemy, and I will see to it that they pay dearly." "Aldara, Lita didn't do it," Scully said wearily. "She has no reason to do it. We're often not here when she prepares the room for the night. There's no lock on the door, anyone could have come in and added the poison to the soup." Corvay piped up. "Especially if they knew that you would be occupied elsewhere. This may have been another reason for drugging Reinald - to make sure you would be out of the room so there would be an opportunity to poison the food." He paused. "Scully, someone hates Mage Mulder. This is one of the most painful poisons in our world, and from the amount in his bloodstream, there was enough to kill him ten times over. Whoever did this wanted him to die horribly." Staring into the fire, Scully just nodded. To reassure herself more than for any other reason, she touched Mulder's mind gently and felt only refreshing, dreamless sleep. No pain. She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking. "Scully, I'm going unless you need me," Aldara said in a low voice. "I'll tell Jourdain what happened." Again, Scully nodded. Tearing her eyes from the fire, she looked at her and said, "Thanks, Aldara, for everything. And good luck." Aldara smiled and left. Lita started clearing away the supper things, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Lita, are you all right?" The elf nodded and bit her lip. "I'm just so sorry." "It wasn't your fault, Lita," Scully said firmly. "Everything's fine now. If you want to help, you could bring us more food, and some tea. I don't trust the tea that's here." Happy to be able to do something useful, Lita cleared the remains of the food that had been left for Mulder and bustled out. In the companionable silence, in the calm that followed the frantic activity to save Mulder's life, the inevitable reaction began to set in and some slow tears made their way down Scully's cheeks. Corvay, concerned, reached out and took her hand. She wiped the tears away impatiently with the back of her other hand. "Don't mind me, Corvay, I usually get shaky after the fireworks are over." She tried to smile, but her chin started to quiver. "It was so close," she whispered, the tears threatening once again. Corvay held her for a few minutes, reaching in, touching her mind, bolstering it with the support of friendship and a healing chant. Scully sighed, and smiled. "Thanks don't seem enough but they're all I have. Thank you for Mulder's life,' she said simply. "You'd probably better get back to your other patient now." He got down from the chair. "You're a true healer now, Scully. You did everything perfectly, including pulling down your own shield. If you hadn't, you'd both be dead, you know that, don't you?" She nodded. Corvay continued, "Anyway, I didn't save him. You did. I'll check with you in the morning to see how he's doing." As the healer went out the door, Lita came in, carrying a pot of soup, bread, tea, and several delicacies they hadn't seen in quite some time. "Don't worry, Traveller. I have tasted all this food myself, and it is safe. I found a few of his favorites, maybe it will tempt him to eat again." "Thank you, Lita. You're a lifesaver." She smiled warmly at the servant as she left. When Lita had gone, she went to Mulder's bedside and checked him. She could have done it psychically from across the room, but suddenly needed the reassurance of seeing him with her eyes and touching him with her hands. Satisfied he was doing well, she sat at the table and forced the first few bites down her throat. Then she found she was really quite hungry, and ate well. She saved half the food and made some daytime tea, feeling she needed the energy. She heard Mulder stirring, and poured some restorative potion into a cup and brought it to him. His eyes were open and he was attempting to sit up. He was pale, drawn and weak, but otherwise showed no sign of how close he had come to death only a couple of hours before. "Let me help." Scully assisted him to sit up and propped his back with pillows. She kept a steadying hand on the cup as he lifted it shakily to his lips. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked up at her from under his lashes. "Only too well - eidetic memory, remember?" he said weakly, with a fair attempt at a smile. Then he sobered. "Unbelievable pain, and I couldn't breathe, and I called you, and - and then you shut down on me, Dana. Why?" His eyes weren't accusing, they merely reflected hurt. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Mulder," she whispered, crawling into bed beside him. "I felt like I was abandoning you. But you weren't shielding at all. Even before you called to me, I was having the same pain and difficulty breathing you were having. I couldn't help you that way, I couldn't even move. I knew I had to get here and get into a healing mode. I didn't *want* to drop that shield, I *had* to, or neither of us would have survived." She looked at him anxiously. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm sorry. I should have known it was something like that. I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time." She wasn't shielding now, and Mulder saw only too clearly what was going through her mind. "No! Dana, no!" he said, appalled. She didn't pretend not to understand him. "I only thought about it for a second, when I first found you. It just flashed into my mind how hard it would be to go on if... if you died. And how easy it would be... just to remove my shield while you were dying, and... and be with you. But it was only for a moment, Mulder... I - I don't think I would have done it." Mulder looked shaken. "This is the kind of thing I've been afraid of since the first time Reinald mentioned this lifebond. Is that possible - that just by not shielding yourself, you could die as well?" She nodded. "Corvay has been extremely informative on the subject. Theoretically, you could shield, if you were in any condition to do so, to try to prevent my being with you. But yes, it's not only possible, it's often what happens among bondmates, especially those who have been validated for a long time. The whole concept of life without the other becomes, over time, unthinkable. In some cases, physically impossible." Mulder took her hands in his. "Dana, you've got to promise me you'll never seriously consider doing anything like that ever again. Promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll shield yourself, you'll go on." She regarded him quietly for several moments. "Can you honestly promise me the same thing?" For a long time he was motionless, eyes down, focused on nothing in particular while he considered his thoughts. When he did raise his eyes, it was to look directly into hers. "No, I can't. I can't promise that." Smiling sadly, she shrugged. ~ ~ ~ Mulder was up even before Lita arrived the next morning. Most of the ill-effects from the previous day were gone. At some point in the night, he had nibbled at some of the food she had brought earlier but had not eaten much, his lack of appetite stemming less from his being poisoned than it did the conversation he had had with Scully. He had always considered the bond in terms of what losing her would do to him emotionally. He hadn't seriously considered what it might do to her emotionally, or what it could do physically to either one of them. Now there was a whole new set of life-defining questions and decisions, things that they needed to come to terms with quickly in view of the perilous times. He had slept little, with long periods of tossing and turning, the lifebond - or deathbond - issue churning in his mind. His only respite had been the times when he had reached for her and they had made love with an almost desperate passion, so mindful were they of what they had nearly lost. He had washed and dressed and was seated in an armchair, checking through one of Reinald's tomes on spells when Lita tapped and entered. She took in the shadowy shape of Scully through the filmy bedcurtains, and quietly made her way down the length of the room to the hearth. "It's good to see you up, Mage, I hope you're feeling better. I've brought breakfast, and it's been tested," Lita whispered, laying the food on the table. "Thanks, Lita. No bath this morning, I've already washed," he responded in a low voice, and gave her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Mage? You seem - not yourself this morning, if you'll forgive my saying so." "Just a little tired, Lita. Don't worry about it." "Very well. I'll be back later to clean up." The little elf quietly closed the door behind her. Mulder poured tea and absently ate some bread and fruit, never looking up from his scrutiny of the book until he felt Scully's presence behind him. She leaned over and put her arms around his neck, stroking his cheek with her own. He closed the book, turned, and his strong arms drew her into his lap. For a long time neither of them said anything. Although neither was shielding, they did not seek each other's thoughts, perhaps already knowing what they were, perhaps discomfited enough by their own. "I'm so scared, Dana," Mulder mumbled into her hair. "I'm so scared of losing you." "I know, love. Me, too." Scully caressed his cheek, and they were quiet for a while. Some minutes passed, then she said softly, "I read a line in a book once that I've always remembered. I forget the title of the book, but I've always remembered the line, which said 'The only sin love can commit is to be joyless'. " She paused for a few seconds. "We can't let our fear of losing each other take away the joy, Mulder. If we do, there's no point to the lifebond, there's no point to anything." She looked up at him, her eyes peaceful. He entered her mind then, seeking the calm, the serenity that was reflected in her eyes, letting the reason of her mind nurture and comfort his, drawing on her courage to sustain him. They remained motionless, locked in each other's embrace, locked in each other's mind. Finally, Mulder sighed, with joy and contentment this time, and kissed her lips gently. "You need to eat. Lita will be back soon and we have to hit the road. Before we go, I have to do a little spell casting. I've just been looking for the best one for our purposes." Scully gave him a little squeeze, then moved to the table and started eating. "Where are we going first?" "Well, Tarnor annotated his list. He seemed to think our best bet is someone called Baalmas in the elven village of Wishalla, which isn't too far from here. Scully, I want you to go armed. I have no idea what to expect, but I want to be prepared for anything. If nothing else, maybe we can do a 'little winning through intimidation'. I don't for a moment think anyone is going to confess they made up the spell for Grejor, not unless they have some kind of death wish. It may be enough just to find out Grejor was nosing around about such a spell, and hopefully find out something about it so we can figure out how to remove it." Scully hurried finished her breakfast, washed and dressed. She strapped on her sword and stuck her dagger down her right boot. "Okay, Mulder, I'm ready." He, too, was ready, just finishing buckling the clasp of his Mage cloak. "I shouldn't say so, but I hate this thing. It gets twisted around my legs, I can't mount my horse properly, and it's so damn ostentatious. But I suppose I have to dress the part. Okay, Scully, stand directly in front of me. I have carefully researched and come up with a little something that I think will assist us to 'watch our backs' as Tarnor so helpfully suggested." His eyes on Reinald's book propped on the table, he spread his arms wide with his hands up. In the long cloak, he reminded Scully strongly of the priests she had watched in her youth from a front pew of a crowded church. He muttered the incantation. The electric-blue flames coursed down his body and up his arms to arc between his upraised hands and enclose the two of them in a cocoon of power. Scully felt a tingling sensation all over her body and shivered a little. Finally, as Mulder's incantation wound to a close, the electric blue faded to almost white, adding what appeared to be another layer to their auras. The tingling sensation remained, though at a less irritating level. Mulder opened his eyes and lowered his arms. "That should do it." "How long will it last?" asked Scully. "And what precisely is it supposed to do?" "Theoretically, it's supposed to act as a kind of shield, preventing most things from getting through - tangible things like knives as well as intangible things like spells. It should last until the sun goes down, at least if I've read Reinald's book correctly. Sometimes some of the language is kind of representational or symbolic, so it's hard to tell. Ready?" "'Theoretically', Mulder?" He smiled at her. They went down to the stables to get their horses. After a good-natured argument about who was going to be responsible for navigation, Scully got directions for finding all the places on Tarnor's list. At least as far as she was concerned, this significantly increased their chances of being back at the castle before the spell wore off. ~ ~ ~ The village of Wishalla was a candlemark's easy ride away. The weather had turned grayer, colder and windier in the past several weeks, and Mulder and Scully were looking forward to the inevitable tea when they arrived. Following custom, they stopped first at the house of the village chief to announce their arrival, offer their good wishes and state their business. After tea was served, they asked for the location of Baalmas' house. The elf chief's eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and he spat on the dirt floor. "By your aura, Mage, you are honorable and powerful. Why would you want to have anything to do with Baalmas?" Mulder soothed the chief and got the directions he was looking for. The elf concluded his meeting with them as quickly as hospitality would allow. "Not a popular guy, this Baalmas, " Mulder commented to Scully. They were approaching the outskirts of the village, and easily found Baalmas' hut. Scully insisted on preceding Mulder into the windowless hovel. Inside, it was dark and there was a pervasive rank odor, an odor of dead things. They found the Mage looking over some books by the light of a single candle. He was tiny, even for an elf, but had a dissipated look about him they had yet to see in the Realm. His appearance was not helped by the fact that he was missing his left eye. He ignored them for as long as he dared, then turned to Mulder. "To what do I owe this honor?" he sneered. "We're looking for information. Information that I think it would be in your best interest to share with us," Mulder began. "And what makes you think it's in my interest to share anything with you?" snapped Baalmas. "I know Reinald had nothing to do with the Prince's spell. When he is released, he's going to be very angry with the people responsible - very angry indeed. Together our powers are formidable, as you can imagine. I think you'll rest easier, knowing that you cooperated." Mulder regarded him blandly. Baalmas looked at the him, considered the power of his aura, and Reinald's reputation. He picked up a cup and hurled it in frustration across the room to smash against a wall. The suddenness and violence of his action alarmed Scully, who pulled her dagger and had it at Baalmas' throat almost before the shards of the cup had hit the floor. His one eye bulged out of his head and he babbled in terror. "No, please, spare me, Mage. Call off this warrior. Please, I'll tell you what I know." Mulder signed to Scully and she shoved Baalmas onto the one chair in the room. He nervously licked his lips. "Someone from the castle came to me many days ago, seeking a spell that could render someone ineffective. I know such spells, but I didn't trust this person not to give me away, so I refused to help him." "Who was it? Was it Mage-Apprentice Grejor?' demanded Scully. He looked at her for a few seconds and finally nodded. "Yes. He didn't tell me the intended recipient of the spell and I didn't want to know. The less I know, the better. Anyway, he got no spell from me." "So who did you send him to see?" asked Mulder. Baalmas looked at him resentfully, then mumbled a name. "Zoalstra. I told him to go to Zoalstra. She's mad, it would never even occur to her to fear for her life. She'd cast such a spell for any reason or for none, it makes no difference to her." "Where can we find Zoalstra?" "The last I heard she was in Blackforest Township, half a day's ride from here. Just don't tell her that I sent you. She's mad, she'd turn me into a bug just for the fun of it." He shuddered. "Our silence depends on your cooperation," said Scully. "We want you at the trial. You may not even have to testify, but we want you there. It starts in five days. If we do not see you there, you won't have to worry about this Zoalstra turning you into a bug" - she indicated Mulder - "he'll do it himself, and save her the trouble. Do we understand each other?" His expression made his hatred of them quite clear, but he grudgingly nodded. "Aye, I'll be there." They left the hovel and walked back into the village. "So what was that, Scully - Bad Cop/Bad Cop?" He smiled over at her. She shrugged. "Don't argue with success, Mulder." Not trusting Baalmas' directions, they confirmed the way to Blackforest Township by asking the village chief and set out immediately. They made good time and arrived in the mid afternoon. Finding Zoalstra was more of a problem, as the inhabitants of the gargoyle settlement appeared terrified of her and were reluctant to point them in her direction. Finally, a few folk were convinced by the power of Mulder's aura and they were directed to the hut. If anything, Zoalstra's hut made Baalmas' look like a palace. There was a pall of pure evil in and about the place, a stomach-turning stench that nothing could eradicate. Nothing within fifty meters of the hut lived - not a tree, not an insect, not a blade of grass. The gargoyle looked normal enough, except for the lunatic glint in her eye. "And what can I do for you, Mage? Come to trade spells with me, perhaps?" She chuckled nastily. "We've come to ask if you assisted an acquaintance of ours with a spell," Mulder said. "Oh, I assist many. Perhaps if you described him..." "A young human, smaller than me. Brown hair, brown eyes. From Fairwood Keep." At the last clue, her eyes flickered with recognition. "I do seem to recall someone like that. Now what did he need help with?" Seeing she had their complete attention, she was not about to lose it. "What was it, now - maybe help finding a lost valuable, perhaps. No, no that wasn't it. What was it?" She continued to play the kindly eccentric, stringing them along. Finally, Scully tired of it and began to investigate some of the objects in the hovel. "Now what was it, if I could only remem- Hey, what is it you're doing there? Stay away from my things!" Her voice had risen to a scream that could shatter glass. "Mulder, take a look." Scully removed the lid from a tiny pot to reveal what looked like several human eyeballs. "No! Leave that alone - you'll spoil it!" The infuriated gargoyle began to shriek. "Get out! You've ruined it, it's no good anymore. You'll pay. I'll see to it you pay!" Moving like lightning, she pickled up a long thin knife from the table and threw it at Scully's back. The warrior reacted quickly and dived for cover while withdrawing her own dagger. But the stiletto struck Scully's spell-enhanced aura and ricocheted back at Zoalstra. The blade stuck her mid-chest with such force that she was pinned to the wall behind her. She died instantly. "You alright, Scully?' asked Mulder anxiously. "Yeah." Scully removed the stiletto from the wall and the gargoyle's body slumped to the floor. "She won't make much of witness, however." "No," admitted Mulder, looking at the black magician's body distastefully. "But then again, I don't think she would have anyway, even if she had been alive. And we may have just done this settlement a service. We'd better go find the chief and tell him what happened." The explanation didn't take long, and Mulder had correctly deduced the village's reaction. General rejoicing broke out as the word spread. Mulder and Scully were showered with food and flasks of tea for the journey back to Fairwoods as Zoalstra's body and her hovel were set ablaze. They lost no time in setting out. There was no way now that they would be back at the castle before dark, a fact which worried Scully greatly. After two hours they stopped by the side of a small creek to rest and water the horses while there was still a little light, and had some tea and food themselves. When the last rays of the sun faded from view, they remounted and urged their horses into a fast trot down the narrow road illuminated by the twin moons. They were nearly back at Fairwoods when Scully noticed that her skin was no longer tingling. "Mulder?" "I know. I would guess that we're no longer shielded. Well, it was nice while it lasted." He glanced at his bondmate, who was suddenly alert and looking around. "What is it?" Scully drew her sword and said grimly, "I think it's soul-eaters. I can't see or hear them, but I can feel their presence. Let's get going, Mulder." The horses needed little urging to break into a gallop; they had also sensed the creatures. They outran the pack and eventually slowed, only to sense another. "What the hell is going on? They shouldn't be this close to the castle," Scully murmured. Again they spurred their horses. This time, however, before they outran the second pack, they had picked up a third. The battlements of the castle were in sight when suddenly, they were running for their lives. Scully's horse screamed as two soul-eaters converged on it, their claws raking its flanks. Her sword flashed, decapitating one of the monsters and slashing the other deeply across its ribs. Mulder concentrated what energy he could while riding at a gallop, stunning two more of the creatures and having the satisfaction of seeing them drop in their tracks. The last soul- eater persisted in chasing them all the way to the castle portcullis, when Scully turned in her saddle and impaled it on her sword. She tipped the weapon, letting the creature's body slide to the ground, while her horse never broke stride in its race to get through the portcullis to safety. They flew through the gate which crashed down behind them, and slid to a stop in the courtyard. They dismounted, dirty, disheveled and panting. Mulder looked at Scully, liberally splashed with the blood of soul-eaters, her hair, freed from its braid, wild around her face. "I'll say this, Scully - a date with you is never boring." End of Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve As the day of the trial approached, Fairwoods Keep was filled to bursting. For days there had been a constant parade of Council Representatives and their entourages arriving at the castle, needing food, shelter and stabling. Many of the Representatives were accompanied by hundreds of kinsmen, militia members and camp followers, sometimes in an attempt to impress onlookers and rivals with mere numbers, but more often simply for security during the trip. As Mulder and Scully had found, the woods were alive with soul-eaters. The Representatives of other species who had come the furthest distance had brought their entire armies with them, realizing that the time was soon approaching when their troops would be activated and called to Fairwood for deployment on the field of battle. Everyone felt the spectre of the Prophecy and knew that time was short before the Realm would be forced to fight for its survival. Prince Mavor was one such leader. An elven Prince who had journeyed two hundred miles to attend the Council, he would have been making his way to Fairwoods in any case. His fine-boned, almost gaunt, aristocratic features were calm and serious as he and his general Karvan led hundreds of elven cavalry troops, clothed in yellow leather and silver armor. Elves were famed for their horsemanship both on and off the field of battle, and the addition of these troops would give Jourdain one more force for the Dark Realm to reckon with. Meanwhile, the noble houses squabbled continually amongst themselves. The House of Dordinal schemed with the House of Maalfees against the House of Ranfaus, then Maalfees would align with Ranfaus against Dordinal in an endless dance of changing partners. Aldara's internal security forces had been hard pressed to keep the hot-blooded guards of each of the Houses from each others' throats, and were constantly breaking up fistfights, swordplay and duels between noble cliques. The day before the trial was difficult on all involved, the only positive being that Reinald had recovered from the effects of his drugging and was completely back to normal. Otherwise the news was uniformly unpleasant. There had been further attacks in the eastern part of the Realm by Hunters and Destroyers. In addition, two Representatives and their entire entourages had been slaughtered on their journey to the castle. Grejor was still missing, and Mulder and Scully had been unable to unearth any more evidence to support Reinald. Jourdain had spent the day meeting with Mulder, Reinald, and the various species leaders and generals all day, trying to come up with a battle strategy that was both effective and agreeable to all parties. This seemed less and less likely with each successive meeting. Meanwhile, Aldara's forces had broken up at least forty seven fights that day, some caused by overcrowding, some by interspecies tensions, and most by the noble houses instigating trouble. Later that night, Aldara prepared a simple supper for herself in her remote quarters. She was exhausted, depressed and very troubled. Cherishing her friend's advice and support, she had spoken briefly to Scully that morning, expressing the terrible depth of her worry about Jourdain and the responsibility he was handling. From the moment of Reinald's arrest, he had remained remote, tightly coiled, keeping himself rigidly controlled. Aldara knew it was mostly a facade; as she had a good idea of the hell he was going through. It was probably too early in their relationship to hope for, but not for the first time she wished that he trusted her enough, felt comfortable enough to share his feelings with her, to let her ease some of his burden. In fact, Aldara thought bitterly, it was too early in their relationship to even be sure they had a relationship. There was a tap on her door, so soft she wasn't even sure she had heard it. She opened it, expecting anything but the huge form of Jourdain on the threshold. "Jourdain! Please come in. Have you eaten?" Jourdain threw himself into a chair by the hearth and sighed. She pressed a mug of tea into his hand which he sipped at automatically, appreciating the little boost it gave him. Aldara allowed the silence to continue as she set an extra place at the table, dished out stew, and sliced bread. "Come and eat, Jourdain." The big man moved slowly to the table and sat on the rough wooden bench. "Thank you, Aldara." They ate in silence, Jourdain still distracted by his thoughts of battle plans, his friend's trial and his possible role as executioner. He didn't eat well, but still better than he had since Reinald's arrest. When he had finished, Aldara cleared the dishes away as he remained at the table, leaning on his elbows, supporting his aching head in his hands. Aldara washed the dishes, wiped down the table and added another log on the fire, all in silence. Finally, she sat in a chair at the hearth, staring into the fire. The silent minutes stretched out. Jourdain wrenched his mind from the difficulties of the day and observed Aldara. In the light of the fire, she was beautiful, her appearance deceptively fragile. Suddenly he realized what her quiet, unwavering, undemanding support meant to him, and what it had cost her. "I love you, Aldara," Jourdain whispered hoarsely. "I've no right to say it, but I love you and I need you." Aldara sat very still for a moment, hoping she had heard correctly. She stood and slowly crossed to him, and standing behind him, began to massage the tense muscles of his neck with her small but strong hands. He groaned a little and sagged back against her. After a few minutes, he reached back, captured her hands and brought them to his lips. "Aldara?" "Yes, Jourdain?" Her reply was quiet, calm. Circling her wrist with his hand, he pulled her down to sit next to him on the bench. "Aldara, did I say something wrong?" "No... no, you said something I've been waiting to hear all my life." Her emerald eyes were huge, loving, trusting. Gently he reached out to stroke her cheek, then his hand went to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled deep in her ebony curls as he closed the distance between them. His lips were soft on hers until, impatient with his gentleness, Aldara nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss. He made a sound of surprise in his throat and returned her passion, letting her set the pace. After some minutes, she broke away to catch her breath. His lips found the tips of her ears and she gasped softly. He had discovered how sensitive her ears were mostly by accident the one and only time he had kissed her. If Mulder and Scully had not chosen that time to visit, things would have quickly gotten out of control. Out of control was definitely where things were headed now. He tongued and sucked the tips of her ears, sending her into a paroxysm of need. She unbuckled his belt and her own with unsteady fingers, discarding leather and weapons on the floor. Her hands reached into his tunic and under his shirt, stroking the broad chest with its mat of curly dark hair. He brought her tunic over her head, adding it to the heap of discarded articles on the floor by their feet, and pulled her shirt out from where it was tucked into her breeches. Lifting her in his arms, he stood, crossed the room and gently laid her on the bed, sitting beside her. He sat for a few seconds, just looking at her, knowing himself to be fortunate to have her love and trust. And then suddenly he was afraid. "Jourdain. What is it?" Aldara sat up, touching his face, his chest, alarmed at the look of concern and fear on his face. "I want you so badly, Aldara." His voice was tight. Etched into his features, his need was no secret. "I want you too, Jourdain." He kissed her softly, his hands skimming lightly over her curves, and wondered how he was going to ask what he needed to know. "Aldara, you've not-" He stopped, not knowing how to go on. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue, then realized what it was that he was asking. "No, I haven't. Does that matter?" He gathered her in his arms and held her close, savoring her warmth, her return embrace. "I'm so afraid of hurting you," he whispered. She smiled, and pulled away from him far enough that he could see her face. "I love you, Jourdain, and I want this. Stop worrying, please." He searched her face, a little reassured by her lack of fear, but knowing that it was based mostly on naiveté and blind trust in him. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I'm not a child." Her smile broadened and she snuggled close to him, her lips near his ear, her breath tickling and caressing at the same time. "Besides, you do that with my ears again, and you're going to have to worry about my hurting you!" she purred provocatively. Jourdain chuckled in his throat, kissed her deeply, then moved slowly and deliberately to her lovely pointed ears. ~ ~ ~ "We feel like we've let you down, Tarnor." Tarnor shook his head. "You've done better than I had dared hope. We have Baalmas and we have the evidence of Grejor's aura. I don't think Drellor has a clue that we have any kind of defense to mount, so that's in our favor, too. Grejor's time as a witness will be critical - first, that we have correctly deduced that he is the main prosecution witness, and secondly, to see how his aura behaves under questioning. Prince Mavor of the elves is here. He is reputed to have the most sensitive eye for auras in the kingdom. He will be a very powerful impartial witness to corroborate what Lita has to say about the aural changes. And then we have several character witnesses, yourselves included, who can swear to Reinald's affection for the boy. I don't see what more we can do." Scully sighed. "I'm just concerned about any tricks that Grejor could play. Is there any way he can disguise his aura, or anything like that?" She looked at Mulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, eyes seemingly focused somewhere across the room. Finally he shook his head. "Reinald doesn't know of anything that could disguise or camouflage it. But Grejor's familiarity with unscrupulous Mages who practice the Black Arts has me worried. I suppose it's possible that one of them might know a few tricks Reinald doesn't. After all, who, other than someone who is doing something wrong, would want to disguise his aura?" Mulder began pacing around the room. "The one thing that cheers me up is the fact that Grejor seems to have made a conscious effort to avoid Lita around the time of the Prince's spell. That tells me that he was afraid she would see the changes in his aura and wonder why." "In any case, I've got to be ready to pounce on Grejor as soon as he finishes testifying for the prosecution," Tarnor said. "I don't want to give him another opportunity to disappear." "Oh, he won't disappear, Jourdain will make sure of that," Scully said. "He has already assigned three or four men to do nothing but keep track of Grejor's whereabouts, just as soon as he surfaces." "Tarnor, you said you have more evidence than you expected. But is it enough?" Mulder asked. "You know your legal system, we don't. Do you have enough to save Reinald's life?" The gargoyle shrugged. "I don't know. It's always difficult trying to predict how the noble houses and other factions will vote. Even if it were up to the more impartial non-human species, it would be very close indeed. I'm hoping that Grejor will confess. Maybe seeing Baalmas ready to testify or having Lita testify to the aural changes will make him see the futility of his position. That's what I'm hoping - not necessarily what I'm expecting." "Is there anything more we can do?" "Just be there, though you can miss the first part. As with all of our other traditions and customs, there's a long ritual before anything happens, and then a judge is chosen. The judge is mostly a ceremonial position, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone chosen who is either on our side or is impartial. If we can get the right judge, it would help tremendously." Tarnor smiled at them. "For a change, we're in a good position there - as Defender Royal, I get to make the first nomination for judge. Drellor will probably try to refute it and make his own nomination. It's my job to come up with someone whom Drellor can't refute without looking bad. Which is how I'm going to spend the rest of the night." He rose from the table, gathering his parchment documents in his hand, and moved to the door. "We'll be there, Tarnor. Good night." They closed the door behind him. "How do you think- " Scully began. Mulder stopped her with his lips. After a minute or so, he murmured, "Not another word. We've worked hard since very early this morning. We can't do anything more right now. The rest of tonight is for us. Agreed?" Scully smiled. "Agreed." ~ ~ ~ At dawn, the castle came alive. The day was cold and windy, but the sun made an appearance which was all too rare these days. The smoke from the cooking fires hung in the air, and the clank of armor rang out, as soldiers were arrayed in full battle dress, and everyone else dressed in the traditional garments of their occupation or station in life. Shortly after breakfast, there was a general thronging to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was an enormous room, now used little except for coronations and other major ceremonies. It was almost three hundred feet in both length and width, with lofty vaulted ceilings. Huge dark wooden beams, painted with intricate designs, crossed the ceiling, and the walls were hung with tapestries and with banners representing the major religious groups, the non-human species and the noble houses, past and present. In the very center of the room were three large chairs, set facing each other in a triangle. Surrounding them were three concentric rings of smaller chairs, about 150 in all. The inner ring would be taken by witnesses and the Prosecutor and Defender Royal, and the outer two rings by the Council Representatives. The rest of the room contained stands, taken from storage and set up in the past few days by the castle workmen, where most of the spectators were even now taking their places. It was still early morning when the stands were filled to the breaking point. Outside, the trumpets and bagpipes swirled their fanfares, a different one to honor each of the Council Representatives, as they and their retainers took their place in the procession to enter the Great Hall. The crowd watched in awed silence, not privy to such a display since the coronation of their late king a generation ago. To trumpet and drum beat, the procession made its way from the gigantic doors, down the aisle, and filling the seats that had been set aside for them. The order was strictly followed. First, the heads of the major religious groups were seated. Then came the human clans, with the most ancient of clans taking place of honor, followed by the next most ancient, and so on. Unfortunately, this meant that often seatmates were fierce rivals, and a certain amount of pushing and shoving was going on. Last came the Representatives of the non-human species, conducting themselves with considerably more decorum. Next, the witnesses filed in, led by Drellor and Tarnor. Mulder and Scully had decided to attend the entire trial and took their places in line, Mulder dressed in his Mage cloak, and Scully in her warrior green leather with a brown hood to denote her unique dual status. They were near the beginning of the line, following Jourdain and Aldara. Grejor, who had finally resurfaced and was looking about him anxiously, was somewhere near the middle. Some witnesses were missing from the procession by design, such as Lita and Baalmas. Tarnor had decided to appear weak and defenseless to Drellor at first, and then spring the witnesses on him, hoping to catch the Prosecutor Royal by surprise. Finally, Reinald was led in by a guard, to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some hooted and called for his head, others were quite touching in the support that they shouted from the stands. As the accused Mage took one of the three central chairs, the crowd quieted. Drellor and Tarnor remained standing. They started chanting in sing-song voices in a language that Scully did not understand. She looked questioningly at Aldara. "This is an ancient form of our language, reserved for important ceremonies," she whispered. "I don't understand more than a few words of it myself, and most people don't know it at all." Scully nodded her thanks. After a while, she began to realize why Tarnor had advised that they skip the first part of the trial. The chanting seemed to go on for candlemarks, sometimes taken up by some of the nobles. Occasionally, she could discern chants in other languages, and her puzzled look brought answers from Aldara, that the languages were the original tongues of the Elves, Trolls and Gargoyles, who now all spoke the one major language of the Realm. She looked over at Mulder, who generally had a very low tolerance for ceremony. He looked as if he were giving it his closest attention, but a quick look into his mind proved otherwise. Scully didn't understand much of what was going on in there, but it appeared he and Reinald were in communication, applying themselves to finding a way to reverse the Prince's spell. Scully left Mulder's mind as unobtrusively as she could. She turned her attention to Aldara and Jourdain, sitting more closely together than necessitated by the arrangement of the chairs. He seemed a little less haunted by the spectre of the trial, and she had a softer, less guarded look. Scully cured her boredom by speculating on the cause for the change in her friends, until finally the chanting stopped. Drellor sat down and Tarnor took a sip of water. Then he announced, "As dictated by our laws and our traditions, I claim my right to name a judge." He bowed deeply to Drellor and to Reinald. In a more conversational tone, indicating a part of the ceremony that wasn't scripted, he said, "I have put much thought into my choice for judge. I wanted someone impartial, someone who commands respect, who is held in the highest esteem by both his own people and others as well. I realize I am breaking with tradition slightly in my choice, for he is a non- human. I ask for approval to name Prince Mavor judge in this matter." Tarnor sat down to the buzzing of the spectators and shouts of rage by some of the nobles. Drellor stayed seated, his mind trying to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. He had assumed that Tarnor would ask Mulder to be judge, and he had prepared all his arguments against Tarnor's choice based on that assumption. Prince Mavor! What was Tarnor up to? Prince Mavor would indeed be impartial, and was respected, and was of royal blood - elf blood to be sure, but still royal. Drellor knew he risked a revolt of the hot-tempered elves if he tried to refute Tarnor's choice. He looked at his little gargoyle rival with a mixture of dislike and new-found respect, then rose. "The Prosecutor Royal can find no good reason why Prince Mavor should not be named judge of these proceedings if it is his wish to so serve." Then Prince Mavor stood and said in his low musical voice, "I am honored and choose to serve." He made his way from his seat with the non-human representatives to the second large chair in the center of the concentric circles and sat down. The chanting began again, this time with Prince Mavor joining in. It lasted a comparatively short time. Then at a signal from Drellor, the witnesses and Representatives filed out of the Great Hall, in search of food and drink to sustain them through the afternoon proceedings. Outside the Great Hall, Mulder and Scully caught up with Tarnor. "Looks like you surprised Drellor with your choice," said Mulder. Tarnor smiled. "A little espionage on my part, I'm afraid. Well, it's not my fault that Drellor has a chatty servant who is not particularly enamored of his master. My servant found out from his servant that Drellor thought I was going to name you as judge." Seeing Mulder's expression of concern, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you were never in any danger. But I was of two minds. I wanted Mavor, but I really didn't want to remove Drellor's false sense of security quite so soon. He may be watching us more closely now than I would prefer. But, it couldn't be helped." "Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that Drellor was wrong," Mulder said with a grin. "I've never pictured myself as a judge." Just then, the elegant Prince Mavor joined the group. Tarnor quickly performed the introductions. Mavor looked at Mulder and Scully, looked away, then looked again, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but Goddess, this is incredible. A Mage, a Warrior Healer, bonded - Goddess, bonded! - and newly validated!" Mulder stifled a laugh as Scully's mind pictured a huge billboard nailed to the wall of the Keep which listed the most intimate details of their lives. Mavor turned to Tarnor. "Do you realize what this means?" Tarnor nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." "You are the prophesied ones...the Mage bonded to the Warrior Healer. I had heard rumors, of course, but I didn't really believe them. A bonded Mage...incredible!" Prince Mavor moved off to join his courtiers, looking back over his shoulder occasionally as if to assure himself that Mulder and Scully did, in fact, exist. "Isn't it a problem for the Prince to be both judge and possible defense witness?" Scully asked. Tarnor looked at her blankly. "No, why should that be a problem?" Scully shrugged. "No reason, I guess." Tarnor bade them farewell and scurried off to attend to some business. Mulder and Scully spotted Jourdain and Aldara and hurried to catch up with them. The four decided to stop in at the tavern for refreshments. While Mulder and Jourdain were ordering, Scully pulled Aldara through the crowded tavern to an empty table in a dark corner. "Okay, so what happened?" inquired Scully. "I know something happened, so don't try to deny it." Aldara blushed, laughing. "You must be a very good investigator in your world. Or does it show that much?" Scully smiled. "Maybe only to people who know you as well as I do. I'm just really glad you're happy." "Very happy," said Aldara. "Jourdain was wonderful - so caring and sweet." She sighed contentedly, thoughts of the previous night bringing a blush to her cheek once again, then she giggled. "I think I shocked him." Scully laughed. "I'm not going to ask." The women looked up to notice their lovers approaching, and deftly changed the subject. When the men arrived, Aldara and Scully were deep in a conversation about the linguistic changes that had occurred in the long history of the Realm. They moved over on the benches to make room for Mulder and Jourdain, who carried bread, cheese, beer and for Mulder, tea. Jourdain's mood, too seemed lighter. He was extremely pleased by the choice of judge, and by Drellor's confusion. "I had almost begun to regret all those times I insulted Drellor and slammed doors in his face," he said. "I know he was reveling in the idea that I would have to execute Reinald. It will be wonderful to disappoint him." "You certainly sound much more optimistic," observed Scully. "Well, Tarnor selecting Mavor as judge was a masterstroke," he said. "Mavor is very highly thought of. His opinion will influence many of the Representatives. Except the House of Dordinal - they're known to be species bigots - and they weren't likely to side with Reinald in any case, so we haven't lost anything." Jourdain shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel like we might have a chance, that things have turned around and are going to go the way I want them to go." Scully smiled into her beer mug. "What happens this afternoon?" "The prosecution presents its case," Aldara said. "It may run over to tomorrow morning, which would be in our favor, though Drellor may not know that. Grejor will probably be the last prosecution witness, because his testimony will have the most impact. We don't want him to have the opportunity to disappear, so we'd like Grejor to testify tomorrow morning, and Tarnor can follow up immediately." Jourdain grunted. "I have four of my best men keeping an eye on him, but I still don't trust the little rat." He noticed a parade of people headed for the Great Hall and downed the rest of his beer. "We'd better get back." Jourdain and Aldara rose and went out. Mulder caught Scully's arm for a few seconds so they lagged behind their friends. "I know I can contact your mind any time, but I prefer actual talking - most of the time, anyway," Mulder said with a knowing look. "What's going on with Jourdain and Aldara?" "What do you think?" grinned Scully. Mulder smiled back. "The old devil. Good for them. They seem happy." "Don't get carried away by all the romance, Mulder. Let's go back to the Great Hall." There was no procession this time. Everyone found his seat or his place in the stands. When they were filled, Drellor stood. "We are here to bring a terrible criminal to justice. Someone who took advantage of the trust of a small child. Someone who broke a sacred covenant with our Realm. Someone whose arrogance and quest for power led him to commit a horrible crime. I speak of Reinald, Regent of the Realm. Long has he pretended affection for my beloved nephew Prince Andalor, all the while plotting against him, against the Realm, and against the order of succession ordained by our laws and traditions." Drellor hung his head dramatically. "I am so glad my beloved brother King Barnos is dead. If he had lived to see the day when his cherished child was turned to stone to further the ambitions of an unscrupulous, power-hungry Mage - well, I shudder to think." Drellor shuddered for his audience. Scully didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the show Drellor was putting on. The man did not know the meaning of the word subtlety. She touched Mulder's mind to find that he felt the same. In fact, he had reached his saturation point for Drellor's rhetoric, and was in the process of "tuning out" again so he could re-establish contact with Reinald and put his time to good use. Scully kept her eyes on Drellor, but most of her mind was with Mulder and Reinald in their quest to find a way to remove the spell from the young prince. It was just as well Scully kept herself occupied, because Drellor held the floor for almost two hours, expostulating on the evil of Mages in general and Reinald in particular, and on the trusting innocence of Prince Andalor. Tarnor rejoiced with every minute that Drellor extended his oration. It was becoming a certainty that Grejor would not reach the stand until the next morning. Also, it appeared that the length of Drellor's speech, after the long, stultifying ceremony of the morning, might be antagonizing some of the undecided votes among the Representatives. Finally Drellor stopped talking and started calling witnesses. He called a long series of character witnesses, mostly from noble houses and factions which had long been aligned with Drellor and against Reinald. Each witness took the third of the large central chairs and parroted essentially the same testimony, often repeating verbatim what other witnesses had said, that Reinald had abused his position and his powers and had committed treason against the Realm. Although none of the witnesses spoke for very long, there were so many of them that the sun had long since set before the last of them had testified. Finally, Prince Mavor called a halt to the proceedings for the night. "But sir, we have not yet finished presenting our case," babbled Drellor. "I have another witness who must testify, our most important witness." "Prosecutor Royal, you should have thought of that before," Mavor declared sternly. "In any event, a witness so important should be heard when we are fresh. We will stop now and reconvene in the morning." His expression did not invite argument or discussion. "Yes, sir," said Drellor, deflated. Mulder and Scully got up, stretched and started walking back to their chamber. "This inactivity is killing me," groaned Mulder. "I'm going to change and go for a run on the battlements. Want to come?" "No thanks, too cold for me. I can unwind in a nice hot tub." She shivered as a cold, wet wind roared through the courtyard, and Mulder drew her closer to him. "How are you and Reinald coming on something to reverse the Prince's spell?" "We thought of something today, actually. Reinald has been deprived of his books of spells since being arrested, but I committed them to memory and have been a kind of 'living book' for Reinald since he regained consciousness. There's a couple of things we're working on. Of course, Reinald has to beat the rap first." "I know, I've been thinking about that. And so has Prince Mavor, by the way," Scully said. "He has very high levels of psi ability, and I was standing quite close to him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop in his mind, but I couldn't help but notice that he has correctly put two and two together. If Reinald is executed, then the Realm is doomed, because there won't be two powerful- enough Mages to combined their powers to defeat the Dark forces. I was wrong before when I thought there were four lives at stake here - everyone's life is at stake, including ours. Mavor understands that. I think that will work in our favor, too." They came at last to their chamber, lit by the fireplace and a couple of flickering torches. Steam rose from the hot water in the big copper tub, and the tea kettle was on the fire. "Need help washing your back, Scully?" "I thought you were going for a run." "You were right, it's pretty cold out. I'll figure out another way to get some exercise." His smile was deceptively innocent. ~ ~ ~ The following morning was stormy, with wind-driven sleet making little pinging sounds as it struck armor and shields. The witnesses and Council Representatives did not bother with a procession and fanfares, merely entering the Great Hall with all due speed in an attempt to get warm. When everyone was in place, Drellor called Grejor to the stand. "State your name, birthplace and station, then tell the assembly what you know of Reinald and his crime." "My name is Grejor. I came originally from the village of Cattle Ford in the southwestern part of the Realm. I am a Mage Apprentice under Mage Reinald and have held that post for seven seasons." Three small cloaked and hooded figures quietly entered the Great Hall and began making their way down the central aisle. Grejor stared at them, distracted. Drellor noticed Grejor's hesitation and impatiently prodded him. "Yes, yes, go on. Tell us of Reinald's crimes." "Well, uhh...many's the time Reinald told me that Andalor was a thorn in his side. That being Regent was a thankless job. That as long as he was going to have to do the job of running the kingdom, he should have the power and title and respect to go along with it." Grejor hesitated once again, as he noticed one of the cloaked figures incline its head toward Tarnor to speak, and Tarnor apparently listening with interest, nodding several times. "Grejor, please pay attention," Drellor demanded. "Your testimony is important." "Yes. I'm sorry...uhhh, where was I ?" "You were telling us how Reinald wasn't satisfied with being Regent," Drellor said through clenched teeth, barely holding on to his temper. "Yes, right." Grejor's attention was still held by the three cloaked figures. He watched them, mesmerized, like a rodent would watch a huge, coiled serpent. "AND..." prompted a furious Drellor. "And - and he - I saw him practicing a spell, many times, using small objects like bottles at first and then living things like birds and cats." Grejor stopped. Visibly trembling now, he swallowed nervously as the cloaked figure spoke again to Tarnor. Drellor smiled, oblivious to the cause of Grejor's discomfiture. "And what happened when Reinald would cast this spell, Grejor? Tell the assembly." He indicated the gathered representatives with a dramatic sweep of his arm. Grejor stared at Tarnor and the three figures. Who in the Realm were they, and why were they talking to Tarnor? What were they saying about him? "Grejor! Tell the assembly what would happen!" Drellor shouted. "Uhhh...uuhhh...the objects would turn to stone," Grejor said in a rush, beads of sweat now standing out on his brow. Prince Mavor stared at Grejor, disgusted, but said nothing. Most of the assembled crowd began to call again for Reinald's head, but many of the elves and the magically sensitive looked on in consternation and began to shake their heads and talk among themselves. Drellor had planned on getting into more detail, but the manner in which Grejor was giving his evidence was not at all as they had rehearsed. He decided to quit while he was ahead. "The witness may go," he said airily, and Grejor was out of his seat in a heartbeat. Tarnor leapt up. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Grejor." Prince Mavor nodded and motioned Grejor back to the witness chair. Grejor looked hunted, trapped. He looked around for any possible alternative to returning to that chair, and saw none. Guards were everywhere. That fool Drellor had promised that this would not happen, had said that once he had told his story for Drellor that he would be free to go back into safe-hiding until it was all over. Grejor shot a look of hatred at the arrogant Prince, and returned to the witness chair. Drellor almost stood to argue against Tarnor's request, but looking at Mavor's face thought better of the action, and stayed seated and silent. "Tell us how you came to be Reinald's apprentice," began Tarnor. Grejor relaxed very slightly. "I applied for the post when it came open." "Were you accepted immediately? "I don't know what you mean," Grejor said guardedly. "Well, what I mean is, did Reinald recognize your vast store of Mage energy from your aura, did you dazzle him with your prowess, something like that?" Grejor flushed angrily. "You know very well that wasn't the case, Tarnor. You were there." Tarnor nodded. "Yes, I was but all these other people were not. Please tell the assembly the circumstances of your being chosen." "I don't see what this has to do with anything," growled Grejor. "Nor do I," said Drellor in a stage whisper. Several of his noble cronies snickered. Prince Mavor looked over at Grejor. "Answer the question." He stared at Tarnor with hot, furious eyes. "Reinald couldn't read my aura. He brought in some scullery maid to read it. Between them, they decided my powers were "marginal", but Reinald accepted me anyway." Tarnor walked up to Grejor. "Did you get along well with Reinald?" "He was all right," said Grejor sullenly. "Wasn't he a hero to you, at least until recently?" "All right, that's true," admitted Grejor. "I worked myself into exhaustion for that man, I worked harder than any apprentice he had ever had." "Well, what happened to change your mind?" "It was the black magic, the spells he was practicing. I didn't want to get into any of that stuff. And the way he was talking about Prince Andalor. I had no idea that's who he was going to use the spell on - if I did I would have reported it to someone," Grejor declared. The crowd buzzed, Mavor frowned, and Drellor gloated. The fool Tarnor was making Drellor's case for him. The end should come soon now. "Did you not complain numerous times of the length of time your training was taking?", inquired Tarnor. "I might have. The old man was always picking on me. Nothing I ever did was good enough, everything had to be just so. Even after I learned something, he'd go over it again and again, picking my performance apart, repeating things until I thought I'd go crazy. Sometimes I thought he was delaying my training on purpose." "How long does an apprentice usually spend with a Mage?" "Maybe eight seasons." "You said you had spent seven seasons with Reinald. Does that mean you were about to leave him, that you had almost completed your studies?" Grejor glowered. "No. I have completed barely half my training." "Did you blame Reinald for that?" "I worked hard. He was always against me, he never appreciated me. Sure, I blame him." Tarnor was quiet for a few seconds, glancing back at the three hooded figures and consulting a parchment before him. "You are a Mage Apprentice, so you must know something about auras, am I right?" "A damn sight more than Reinald," declared Grejor, with bravado. Some of the Dordinal nobles laughed. Tarnor just nodded, smiling his fearsome gargoyle smile. "I know. Auras were always Reinald's weakness, weren't they? I wonder if you know, Grejor - what happens to a person's aura when that person lies or tries to conceal something? Grejor?" The witness merely stared at him, deathly pale, perspiration rolling down his face, in spite of the chilly temperatures. Drellor shot to his feet. His witness was coming apart. Grejor had said something about auras when they had rehearsed his testimony, but he hadn't been able to follow it. "Prince Mavor," he blustered. "You can't allow this kind of question. Magic spells are not allowed in obtaining evidence, and an aura is like a magic spell." Mavor looked at Drellor with distaste. "There is nothing magical about auras. They simply exist, as your hand exists. The fact that some species are unable to see them does not make them supernatural. Now sit down." "Answer the question, Grejor!" Tarnor said in a harsh voice. "Isn't it true that auras undergo characteristic changes when someone tries to hide something?" "An old wives' tale!" babbled Grejor, terrified Tarnor turned and nodded. Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures pulled off her hood. Grejor started as if he had received a jolt of lightning. Lita! He had been afraid of just this situation. He had tried to tell Drellor, but the fool had no idea about auras. "Do you want to change your answer?" Tarnor sneered. Grejor was silent and looked at the witness section with hatred. "You are familiar with Lita, here, aren't you Grejor? Lita is an acknowledged expert on auras. She read your aura once before, didn't she? It's not an old wives' tale, it's a well known fact. I think all the elves in the assembly will agree with me that auras do indeed change with lies and concealment, am I right?" A chorus of "Ayes" came from the elves in the stands and the elven Council Representatives. Prince Mavor solemnly nodded his head. "And I think you will also agree that you have noticed these changes happening to Grejor's aura as he sat here and gave evidence against Reinald. I plan to ask both Lita and Prince Mavor to take the witness chair to testify concerning the changes they saw - two acknowledged experts who will tell you of the lies that Grejor has told today against the man that befriended him." Tarnor strode up to the witness and looked him in the eyes. "When did you start to hate Reinald, Grejor? Don't bother to lie, that will just be something else that Lita and Prince Mavor will have to testify to." Grejor merely returned a look of total loathing. "Didn't you start to hate him when Mage Mulder came, and Reinald started working with him and had no time for your training anymore?" Tarnor charged. "No answer. All right, how about this one? When did you start to plot against Reinald? When did you seek out those who practice the Black Arts, to try to find a way to get back at Reinald for ignoring you?" Grejor began to shout, "I never - ". Suddenly, his eyes stared in horror as a second hooded figure stood. Baalmas swept back his hood and looked directly at Grejor. The third cloaked figure sat still. "NOOOO!" screamed Grejor. "Drellor, you fool! I told you about my aura, but you wouldn't listen! No, you said go ahead and lie anyway, that everyone would believe me. You said they'd never be able to trace that spell, and now they have. You fool, you stupid conceited fool!" Suddenly Grejor bent down and pulled a long dagger from his boot and leapt to the side of Reinald's chair, holding the knife to the Mage's throat. Madness glinted in his eyes. Jourdain started to rise from his seat, but Mulder caught his wrist in a grip of iron, never taking his eyes from Grejor and Reinald. "All right. Lita knows about my aura and Baalmas will tell of my seeking a black magician to supply a spell. Zoalstra, there, will tell of the spell she made up for me. Do you want to know why I did it? I treated Reinald like a king, like a hero, and he humiliated me every chance he got. He wanted me to fail. He treated me like an idiot, a moron. And then Mulder came. Wonderful, perfect Mulder who had everything that I didn't have - unlimited powers, a lifebondmate who never even noticed my existence, all Reinald's respect and attention. And it got worse." Grejor laughed bitterly. "I couldn't believe Reinald could treat me any worse, but he did. After all my work, I was fit only for sweeping up all the bottles that Mulder broke because he couldn't do the simplest levitation spell. I wish I had just killed you, Reinald. And I won't get the chance now, will I?" He looked at Mulder with hatred. "Because Mulder's cast a shielding spell for you, hasn't he? I can feel the resistance against my knife blade. Damn you, Mulder! You're not a Mage, you're a witch! You can't even be poisoned!" Grejor reached across and grabbed Prince Mavor. He giggled insanely. "Here's one you haven't shielded, Mulder. Too bad I can't reach your little bondmate." He turned once again to Reinald. "But I know a better way to get you, Reinald! I put the spell on your precious little Prince Andalor; only I can take it off. Well, Andalor is going to stay the way he is - forever!" Grejor shoved Mavor to the floor and took a step backwards. Before anyone could move, with a flash of his dagger, he slashed his own throat from ear to ear. He dropped to the ground, gurgling and twitching horribly, then was still and silent as his blood ran out on the stone floor. Pandemonium broke out. While spectators shouted and screamed, Jourdain and Scully moved to Grejor's side, Scully only able to confirm that Grejor was beyond a Healer's help. Jourdain assisted Prince Mavor to his chair, and then collared Drellor and summoned two guards to take charge of the shaking little man. Mulder crossed to Reinald's side, and put a comforting hand on the Mage's shoulder. Prince Mavor looked at Jourdain, who yelled "Quiet" at the top of his lungs. After several shouts, the throng finally settled down. Prince Mavor rose. "These events are unprecedented. Our traditions do not dictate to us how to deal with this situation. Obviously, Reinald is innocent; the guilty party has confessed and is dead. I am ordering the arrest of Drellor on the charge of conspiracy. Do I hear any objections?" Two or three of Drellor's noble lackeys called out "Aye" but they were the only ones. Drellor was taken away by the guards, to the catcalls of the spectators. Then Mavor declared, "For the record, I call a vote to determine Reinald's verdict. Who believes Reinald has been proved innocent?" There were affirmative shouts from nearly all the Representatives. "Guilty?" Incredibly, there were a couple of Dordinal nobles who shouted "Aye." They were roundly jeered by the spectators and the other Representatives. "Reinald is released and this Council is dismissed. Because of the events which have transpired, we will forego the closing ceremony." Prince Mavor sank into his chair, emotionally exhausted, as spectators and Representatives alike moved in a cacophonous animated tidal wave for the exits. ~ ~ ~ Back in Reinald's chambers, the five friends huddled around the fire drinking tea, as they had a scant week ago when this nightmare had first begun. "I just want to congratulate Tarnor," declared Jourdain. "He did a wonderful job." Tarnor shook his head. "We have Mulder and Scully to thank for the most part. Without the evidence that they uncovered, I wouldn't have had anything. The aura idea was brilliant, and finding Baalmas put the final nail in Grejor's coffin." "Literally, unfortunately," Reinald sighed. "I wish I had paid more attention. The boy couldn't help that he just didn't have strong enough powers. And I did ignore him shamefully the past several weeks." Mulder shook his head. "I, too, wish I had paid more attention, but for a different reason. When I was studying for my doctorate in psychology, we studied cases like Grejor. Scully, I'm sure you did too." Scully nodded. "Reinald," Mulder continued, "You never would have been able to give Grejor all the time and attention he thought he needed. He was shifting the blame for his lack of success away from his shortage of talent, which he couldn't accept, and on to your lack of attention and appreciation, which he could. I blame myself because I should have spotted Grejor's pathology and anticipated a problem. Besides, Reinald, we've been working to try to save the Realm. It may sound harsh, but I think that had to take precedence over one person's bent psyche." The language spell had a few problems, but the company understood most of what Mulder was trying to say. "One thing I don't understand," said Aldara. "If Zoalstra was dead, who was the third hooded figure?" Tarnor smiled. "I recruited Drellor's gargoyle servant, who was only too happy to help us against his master. I never intended to have him take his hood off. I just hoped that Grejor would assume what he obviously did - that Zoalstra was alive and ready to testify against him. If Grejor had been thinking straight, he would have known that there was no way anyone could have trusted Zoalstra in the witness chair, as crazy as she was." There was a knock on the door. Jourdain walked over and opened it to admit Corvay. The little elf was handed a mug of tea and shown to a seat. "I hate to be the voice of doom," began Scully, "But this is really only the tip of the iceberg. I mean, Reinald, I'm totally delighted you're free and it's a wonderful and necessary first step. But it's only that - a first step. The biggest battles lie ahead of us - ridding the Prince of his spell and especially, defeating the Dark Realm." Mulder caressed her hand, and her mind. "Reinald and I have a possible solution to the Prince's spell. We're not sure it will work. Since we don't have anything around that is under the same spell as the Prince, we can't test our little remedy. And we don't want to make things worse than they are right now. We wanted to consult with all of you. We need to weigh the benefits against the risks." Mulder looked around at all of them. "I'm aware that this will all be guesswork, hopefully educated guesswork. Corvay - your thoughts?" The little elf looked at everyone with bright, knowing eyes. "I am of the opinion that the longer the Prince stays in his current state, the harder it will be to both remove him from that state, and return him to health if he is removed from that state. There's no telling when, if ever, you could come up with a better plan. I think if you have a plan, put it into action now." "I don't know if anyone cares what I think," Aldara ventured, "But I'd be inclined to wait. And not for the reason you think. I'm sure that Reinald and Mulder will take all due care, and may even successfully bring the child back. But think about Wide River. Do we want to bring the child back to face an end like that? Our future is so unsure right now. Is it fair to bring him back only to suffer the fate of those poor people in Wide River?" The group was quiet for some time. "Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that," Reinald said. "I love the child, and the gods know I would not want him exposed to that. But he is also the Prince, the head of the Realm. As such, he has certain responsibilities, and he both knows and accepts that fact. His return to normal would have a very positive effect on the morale of our soldiers and on all the people of the Realm who need to be ready to sacrifice all they have to defeat the Realm's enemies. For that reason alone, the sooner we bring him back the better." He turned to Aldara. "I don't mean to sound hard and uncaring, my dear. Unfortunately, I must think not only as someone who loves Andalor, but also as Regent of this part of the Realm, and sometimes that must take precedence." Scully looked uncomfortable. "I can't help but think the Prince is in there, sentient, unable to move or communicate. Maybe it's because of a past personal experience of mine, only tiny fragments of memories - " Scully voice became choked and she shuddered. Immediately she felt Mulder in her mind, caressing and soothing, supporting and comforting. She communicated gratitude, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, if what I feel is true, we have to bring him back, as quickly as possible, before he has lasting effects from the experience that even Corvay can't heal." "I must say, too," Corvay piped up, "If Scully feels that way, there is a much better than average chance that she is correct. Her psi ability is much higher than that of anyone I know, and she may be able to sense the Prince's presence." Reinald took a deep breath. "Then, if no one has anything else to say, I think we need to come to a decision. Although I acknowledge the possible deleterious effects, I believe we have no other choice than to try to restore the Prince. Anyone opposed?" One by one they shook their heads, some firmly, some hesitatingly. Reinald nodded approvingly. "I took the liberty of discussing this possible course of action with the heads of the noble houses, the priests and with the non-human representatives. As expected, the nobles could not agree on anything but not agreeing, and the priests and Prince Mavor and the troll and gargoyle representatives were very supportive, regardless of the outcome. Are you ready, Mulder?" Solemnly, Mulder nodded. Scully suddenly felt very anxious. She knew all too well Mulder's overblown sense of responsibility. If this didn't work, he would find it very hard to ever forgive himself, especially where a child was involved. There was already so much that wasn't his fault that he felt guilty for, the last thing she wanted to see was something else on that list. Her mind sent a constant stream of love and support and trust to his. She saw a flicker of recognition and appreciation on his face, then he turned to her and smiled. They all went into Reinald's bedchamber where the Prince stood as he had since the previous week, his stone feet encased in a broken block of stone that had once been clear, spring water. Reinald lit eight candles and placed them at precise positions around the Prince. Mulder took a small stone dish of water, floated a fresh flower blossom in it, and placed it at the Prince's feet. The Mages then took up positions on either side of the Prince and spread their arms wide. Closing their eyes, they started chanting, and blue and white Mage-energy began snapping from their finger tips. The energy and power increased, until both Mages were shaking with the effort to control it. The cadence of the chant picked up, as did the volume. Suddenly, the Mages joined their hands, encircling the Prince in a finely woven screen of blue and white. They were now almost yelling the chant to be heard over the crackling of the power cage they had created. Finally, with a hoarse scream, they pulled their hands apart and collapsed on the floor. Between their prostrate bodies were eight candles, burned down to the holders, a dish with a stone flower, a puddle of muddy water, and a pale and shaky little boy. ~ ~ ~ The next hour was a busy one for everyone. Corvay took charge of Andalor, scooping the child up and placing him in Reinald's huge bed. He sat next to the child, holding his hand, reaching deep inside the child as a healer, assessing the damage done by the spell, starting the healing process. Scully looked at them anxiously - the child was very, very pale, and had not spoken a word. She went to the fire and put a pot of restorative on to warm. Then she helped the Mages to a sitting position and held the potion to their lips, assisting them to drink. Meanwhile, Aldara and Jourdain went to deliver the good news to the Council Representatives who had not yet departed for home, and had it announced from the battlements to the joyous cries of the crowd gathered below. The five gathered again by Reinald's fire an hour or so later. The Mages were exhausted, but satisfied that their spell had worked. But they all awaited the word of Corvay, who was still in with the Prince. Scully left the fire to check on Corvay, as she had every five minutes for the last half hour. This time she was gone longer, and emerged from the bedchamber supporting a weak and trembling Healer. Jourdain bolted from his chair and carried the little elf to a seat at the fireside, and Scully help him drink some restorative. It was several minutes before he had recovered the strength to talk. At last he sighed and sat up a bit straighter. "It was as Scully felt - the Prince was aware throughout the ordeal. He is not yet well. Several sessions will be needed to heal him completely, but he can be healed. Reinald - your speaking to him and reassuring him right after it happened made a huge difference to his state. Had you not done that, I may not have been able to restore him to health. Likewise, Aldara and Jourdain -" everyone looked at them, and they looked at each other, in surprise - "your visits to him when Reinald was imprisoned helped him to maintain a link with this world. Again, I'm not sure whether his mind would have survived without them. It will take a few days, and there may be a few lingering effects - nightmares and so on - but he will be well again. Don't leave him alone for a while. No excitement. Limit visitors to just ourselves, and a few of the Council Representatives, as necessary for matters of state, who can be trusted to behave themselves. Now, I must sleep. Jourdain, may I ask you for some help?" Jourdain lifted the old elf in his arms as he would a child. Aldara opened the door for them, and the three left for Corvay's quarters. Scully helped to pull Mulder to his feet. "Is there anything else you need, Reinald?" she asked. The Mage shook his head and smiled. "What more could I possibly ask for? I have my life, and my freedom, and Andalor. I don't want to make the gods envious - an old Realm expression, Scully. Take your bondmate back to your quarters. We've all done good work and it has been an exhausting day. When Corvay gives the word, there will be a day of celebration for the delivery of the Prince from this spell. The people need something to celebrate - the gods know there hasn't been much lately. Goodnight." Scully smiled at the Mage. "Goodnight, Reinald." She guided Mulder through the door and back to their chamber. She helped to get him undressed and into bed. For tonight, she assumed the nighttime duties he normally saw to, extinguishing all but one of the torches, stoking the fire, and bringing him a cup of tea. She lay quietly beside him, both of them too exhausted by the events of the day to speak. When he fell asleep, she eased the tea cup from his hand. Sliding out of bed, she put the cup on the table and put out the last torch. Then she crawled up beside him and lay in the shelter of his arms for the remainder of the night. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Three days later, the party was in full swing . Andalor scampered in and out of knots of people, acting very much as a normal eight year old boy at a party. They were all in their finest clothes, and the affair was made all the more glamorous by the many Council Representatives who had stayed on at Fairwood Keep to celebrate. An unseasonable warm turn in the weather allowed much of the party to take place in the courtyard. There were musicians and dancing, and food hoarded for a special occasion was presented on long tables. Nobles mixed with common folk in a celebration that touched all the beings in the Realm. Unnoticed was a small, bloody figure, half staggering, half dragging himself toward the sounds of merriment. As had happened so often in the last three days, he fell heavily, only to find the strength from his dwindling reserves to pull himself up again, leaving bloodstains on the ground where he had fallen. Aldara stood at a little distance, watching the revelers, Jourdain amongst them. He was rarely lighthearted these days, and it was good to see for a change. She saw Scully, looking radiant in a golden gown, floating on Mulder's arm in time to the music, the two of them as handsome and graceful a couple as she had ever seen. At present, Aldara was engaged in one of her favorite private pastimes - watching the sun go down behind the battlements. Not normally a contemplative person, she used this one time of the day for talking to herself and to the gods. She looked out over the shadows caused by the setting sun, the interplay of dark and light - and saw something move. The delicate, feminine partygoer was gone and the warrior surfaced. Drawing the knife from its sheath strapped to her leg, she followed the walls for cover as much as possible, her sharp eyes on the source of her concern. When she got to within a hundred feet, she recognized the huddled shape as Fossia, an elf who maintained a watchpost near the Vortex. "Help, we need help here! Healers!" She ran to the elf, who had again fallen. She lifted his head. "Stay quiet, help's coming." Within seconds, Jourdain, Corvay, Mulder and Scully were at her side, lifting the injured elf and carrying him to a bench made softer by the donation of cloaks from concerned onlookers. The Healer tried to establish contact. Fossia shook off Corvay impatiently, showing some typical elf temper with the last of his energy. "No, Healer, not yet. I did not drag myself all this way... to be put into a healing trance now. Jourdain! I must tell you... the Vortex... Hunters and Destroyers, pouring in... thousands amassing... our doom." The little elf finally surrendered to unconciousness and Corvay grabbed his hand to establish contact and start the healing trance. Jourdain looked at Aldara gravely. "Gather the Representatives for a special meeting. I'll find Reinald. It's started in earnest." Mulder looked at Scully, with concern and regret and sorrow in his eyes. "Party's over." End of Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Fox Mulder pushed the doorflap aside, ducked his head and stepped into the tent. Immediately to the left of the door was a small table covered with fruits and simple breads; to the right was a large pile of parchment maps. In the middle of the tent, several brightly patterned cushions had been placed into a circle, surrounding a small open area. Scully and Jourdain were already seated on two of the big colorful pillows, each sipping at a steaming mug of the Realm's magical tea. "Can I have one of those?" Mulder asked wearily, dropping his lanky frame onto one of the empty cushions next to Scully. She handed out her cup to him with a ghost of smile. "You sure?" he questioned, looking at her critically. When had those lines developed around her mouth and eyes? Her blue eyes were cloudy, her lovely hair dusty and tightly wound in a now-characteristic braid. She was dressed in dusty green leather and light silver chain mail, her sword still hanging down her back. A warrior, calm and tense as a coiled spring. "Yes, I've already had enough to keep me wired for candlemarks." Scully sighed and stretched, watching with hidden concern as her partner sipped at the hot tea. His skin had paled underneath its tan to a sickly yellow pallor. His eyes were red- lined and heavy-lidded, his delicate hands trembling slightly. She knew he had been pushing himself far too hard, the demands on the surviving Realm magicians increasing daily. And Mulder was always one to take more than his share of the responsibility. "You need to rest," she scolding him, uncomfortably aware of her own exhaustion. "I know, but it will have to wait for a while. We still have to get Erensto evacuated." He took a gulp of the tea, wincing as it scalded the back of his throat, then sighing as he was rewarded with a warm rush in his belly. "Mulder..." Scully shook her head. He was right, there were too many lives at stake. Too much left to do. And far too little time left. Further conversation was halted as Reinald nearly staggered into the tent followed by the bulky Troll General, Kergidor. Andalor was barely a step behind them, tugging impatiently on the hand of the gargoyle leader Beerak. The elven Prince Mavor entered last, his thin, finely carved features haughty with disdain as he eyed Kergidor diving eagerly into the refreshments, juice running down his pointed jowls. Reinald took the seat next to Mulder, waving to young Andalor to sit next to him. The boy Prince did so quickly, his mobile features coalescing into a look of worried expectancy. Beerak sat down gravely, ignoring the food. Mavor followed suit, though not without a sharp look of disgust at Kergidor, who bustled over to the remaining cushion, even as he nibbled at a chunk of bread, crumbs spilling down onto his stained brown armor. Silence reigned for a few uncomfortable moments once everyone had been seated, eight pairs of eyes darting from one closed countenance to another, no one wanting to be the first to speak. Finally, Jourdain cleared his throat and began. "The East and South regions are lost. We've evacuated as many people as we could from the towns of Dreegan, Yellowfork, and Jinderling. The gargoyles have cleared out of Goodearth Caverns, the elves have had to abandon Fairwood Glens. Mage Mulder will be aiding Mage Gera in evacuating Erensto this afternoon. That should clear out the last of the beings in the area between here and the Fairwood Crossing. So far, we've been able to hold the line at Fairwood Crossing, though the losses have been heavy. With the help of Mages Flordan and Giels, we've been able to Gate in gargoyle and human reinforcement units. Hopefully they'll be able to hold until tomorrow night. "We're setting up a staging ground here on the Uriin Plains, near the Sentinel cliffs. The river provides a natural barrier on the other side, giving us the chance to surround them - if we can draw them in. We'll swing troops around behind them and place archer units on the corners. One they're surrounded, Mages Reinald and Mulder will create the vortex in the center. Our job will be to drive the Dark Army through it." Mulder and Reinald exchanged grim looks while Jourdain leaned forward to draw lines in the dirt floor with his knife edge, explaining the battle strategy in detail, even though they all knew it by heart. Many long hours of planning, arguing, hope and desperation had gone into the decision. If the two magicians failed at creating and holding the Vortex, if the surrounding troop lines broke, letting the enemy escape, if the timing was wrong at any stage - it could result in disaster. Reinald gave the best assurances he could concerning his and Mulder's ability to control the Vortex, though all were painfully aware of the small crater that now graced the top of one of the Sentinel cliffs. All knew this could easily blow up in their faces. All knew it was their best - and only - hope. Still, they discussed it yet again: the placement of troops and cavalry, archers and magicians. Each race had its own units which had to be coordinated with the others. Familiar arguments were raised and dismissed, almost by rote. Additional reinforcements were planned, some consisting solely of farmers and merchants, refugees who had traded their plows and wagons for knives and swords. Supply lines were given extra guards, healer positions were rearranged. Finally the discussion dwindled into a another painful silence. Only one last question to answer. "Who is going to lead them into the trap?" The words, spoken in Reinald's weary tones quivered in the air. "I will." Seven pairs of stunned eyes turned to stare at the red-haired woman. Her face was as calm as her voice, her eyes steady and certain. "Scully!" Mulder began to protest, his blood beginning to chill in his veins. She silenced him with a wave of her hand. "Someone has to do it, and you are all needed here. Jourdain has to organize the trap, Reinald and Mulder have nearly impossible responsibility as is. Andalor can't be put at risk while Kergidor, Mavor and Beerak are needed among their own peoples. That leaves me. I'll take a group of volunteers from among the soldiers, I don't think anyone should be compelled to do this." "You are needed here, too," Reinald protested. Scully shook her head. "Anyone can do what I do. You've got dozens of better trained healers, thousands of more experienced soldiers. And don't forget the Prophecy: 'Woman, born to be a Mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight.' I think that this is what the lines mean - that this is what I'm supposed to do." Again, she forestalled Mulder's protest, "I *have* to do this. It will fail if anyone else does. I'm not sure how I know this, but I'm right." Good heavens, she thought, now I'm even starting to talk like Mulder. She was terrified of the prospect facing her, and yet she also felt an odd sense of peace - a sense of rightness. This was why she was here, what she had been training for over the long months. This was her role to play, and she couldn't hand it off to anyone else. A part of her wanted to laugh - intuitive knowledge was Mulder's style, not her's. But the growth of their mind-link had blurred the barriers between their minds, their personalities, their capabilities. Another part of her wanted to cry. She was so scared. Please don't shut me out, Mulder, she pleaded silently, I need you. Mulder's eyes glittered, his jaw held so tightly clenched his teeth began to ache. She reached out to touch his arm tenderly. "I'm sorry, Mulder, please...I have to do this." Feelings warred back and forth down the mental link between them, then shut off as he pulled down a seamless mental barrier between them. Ignoring the worried faces watching them, she pushed at it with all her energy, only barely keeping herself from screaming aloud. The air in the tent grew dark and heavy with moisture, thick with static charge, as Mulder battled with himself. Part of him wanted to scream, to throw her over his shoulder and lock her up somewhere safe until the battle was over. But another part of him respected and admired her courage. He'd come to understand over the past few months of the escalating war, in a way he had never done before, just how ferocious a warrior his partner was. She was in her element on the battlefield, fierce, relentless and unstoppable. Sometimes it frightened him, the way she scythed her way through the enemy, sword flashing, eyes blazing blue fire. But he also couldn't forget her gentler side, the graceful, elegant beauty who melted in his arms, the woman whose love made him whole. He couldn't let her do this, he knew the pain of losing her would destroy him. To lose her would be losing himself - he would not live without her. Yet he also knew that nothing he could say would stop her. "Mulder, for goodness sake's stop it. Ground yourself now!" Reinald reached out to grab Mulder's hand as heavy black clouds formed in the pointed top of the tent. Mulder yanked his arm away and leaped to his feet. Surveying them all with ice-cold eyes, he turned to leave. "Maybe a good soaking will bring you to your senses," he said bitterly. Buckets of rain poured downward within the tent even as Mulder stepped out into the bright morning sunshine. ~ ~ ~ The cliffs rose in huge, nearly flat sheets of white- lined rock straight up from the fields below. Only the most careful observer would note the small dots of caves and crevices that wound their way into the base of the towering stone slabs. The hidden province of the gargoyle miners, some of the caverns were filled with huge crystal formations and bubbling pools of subterranean heated water. It was beside one such pool that Scully and Tarnor found Mulder, his boots tossed carelessly aside, his feet plunged into the hot water, while he rested on his back across a slab of bright red crystal. Staring straight up at the glittering stalactites hanging in massive formations from the cavern's ceiling, he didn't react to the echoing sounds of their footsteps. Scully let go of her anxious guide's hand, and indicated he should go back with a tilt of her head. In response to the gargoyle's worried look, she smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "We'll be okay," she reassured. "Go on." Glancing from her to the lanky recumbent figure on the rock, Tarnor shook his head, then ambled back out of the cavern leaving them alone. Scully walked over and sat down beside Mulder, tucking her feet underneath her. He turned his head to look at her silently for a moment, his eyes dark and clouded. "Mulder..." she started to speak, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand. "Do what you have to do, Scully," he said tonelessly, turning his head back to continue glaring at the cavern's glittering ceiling. "Stop it!" she yelled. "Just stop it!" "Stop what?" Mulder's voice was calm and reasonable, he glanced at her with wide-eyed surprise. "Stop shutting me out," she insisted angrily, reaching out to tighten her hand around his upper arm. "I don't know what you mean, Scully," he replied even as he disentangled himself from her hand and sat up, putting several long inches between them. "You know exactly what I mean, Mulder. I won't let you do this. Not now." "I'm not - Ouch!" Mulder rubbed his cheek, staring at her with an aggrieved, little-boy innocence. "You hit me!" "Yes," she replied firmly, "and I'll do it again, unless you cut the crap and start talking to me." One look at the set of her jaw and the determination in her bright eyes and he knew she really meant it. "Scully..." he paused for a moment, not knowing how to begin, what to say. "Yes..." she prodded, none too gently. Miserable, he curled up into a ball, pulling his feet up out of the water, hugging his knees to his chest. "Don't do this, Scully. Let someone else go. It doesn't *have* to be you!" His voice rose, slipping off the last word. She closed her eyes for a brief second, then looked straight into his. "I wish it didn't have to be me, Mulder. Believe me, the last thing I ever wanted to do is play bait for an army of monsters. But it has to be, just as it has to be you and Reinald who have to find a way to end this thing. I know I am asking you to put your life on the line too, that if I die, the lifebond could pull you under with me..." Her voice broke off as Mulder shook his head head at her, then turned to stare down into the bubbling, steaming water. Even without the open link between their minds she knew instantly he was thinking that his life didn't matter, only hers did. That realization made her angry. "Do you think I haven't worried about you?" She shouted. "About what it might do to you to try to create a Vortex here? Reinald's one attempt at manipulating an already existing Vortex nearly killed him." Suddenly it all poured out of her. "How many times have you run off and put yourself into danger without even telling me? Mulder! Do you have even the slightest idea how I felt each time you disappeared, running off to Wisconsin, Arecibo - the damned North Pole, for God's sake! If I hadn't gotten there in time, you'd be *dead*! Dead..." She stopped for a moment, drawing a shuddering breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stalled him with one burning glance. "No, Mulder, this time you're going to hear me out. I'm sick and tired of your trying to protect me, then taking unconscionable risks with your own life. We're supposed to be partners, supposed to share the risk. God knows I don't want to do this alone - I don't particularly want to do it all - but I have to do it, with or without you. So which is it going to be? Are you going to trust me to carry my share of the responsibility, or do I have to go it alone? Because, if you won't be with me, then I might as well go play bait - that's about all that will be left of me." Drained, furious, terrified, she came to a stop and buried her head in her arms while Mulder stared at her, his jaw hanging in amazement. "Dana?" His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to touch her arm. She jerked away from the contact, the tears that has been threatening finally cascading down her cheeks in audible sobs. "Dana, I'm sorry," he replied helplessly, totally unable to cope with her tears. He'd only seen her cry twice before, after she'd been kidnapped by Pfaster and when she was forced to euthanize the injured man at Wide River. He'd hated it then, but this was even worse because it was *his* fault. The barrier he'd been holding up between them shifted, wavered, and collapsed under the flood of his guilt. Scully shook as she was hit by the waves of shame, Mulder felt his own eyes begin to fill with moisture as he was rocked by her fear and anguish. Almost before either one of the knew they were moving, the space between them was breached, Mulder wrapping his arms around her and clutching her against him. She buried her head against his chest nestling into the iron warmth of his embrace. After an all too brief moment, she forced herself to push him away. As powerful as their psychic connection was, this was something she had to say aloud, if only for emphasis. "This is *not* your fault." She articulated each word slowly and precisely. "You are *not* responsible for bringing me here, or for putting me in danger. Coming here was an accident - or fate, perhaps - and I have chosen all my own risks since I've been here. Unless you brought the Destroyers and their minions here, you are not at fault for any of this. One more feeling of guilt and I'll really kick your butt... and don't think I can't." Mulder let a bubble of laughter work its way out of his throat. "I would never doubt your capability, Scully. My bottom is sore enough from the many times you've dumped me on it." "Good," she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling deeper into his arms, breathing in the unique, familiar smell of his body. They held onto each other for what seemed like hours, the emotions racing back and forth between them. Finally, the internal storm calmed enough to let them exchange more coherent thoughts. Foremost in both their minds was the horror of losing the other. Even if Scully didn't bait the trap, there was no guarantee that either one would survive the upcoming battle. Neither could tolerate the idea of the other being hurt or killed, both wanted to protect the other, almost at any cost. But in the end, they both knew there was no way to avoid the upcoming war and their roles in it. They couldn't abandon the friends they'd made here. Both felt called to try to stop the Dark invasion of this peaceful world, especially since they knew that it was their world that had to a large degree set the conditions that originally created the Vortex. "Fox," she lifted her head to meet his liquid eyes with the gentle blue of hers. "Please help me through this. I...." He silenced her with a passionate kiss, his mind reaching out to twine with hers, offering acceptance, understanding, support... though he couldn't hide the knife edge of fear, the twist of guilt, the buried anger that still colored his thoughts. She responded eagerly, drinking in the taste of his mouth, suckling on his tongue as it stroked behind her teeth. Her mind fused to his, mixing her own emotions with his, fear and desire, love and terror. He reached up and traced her nose and eyelids, then drew his finger down across her cheekbone to her mouth. She sighed softly as he rubbed her lips, then stretched out her tongue to lick the sensitive pad of his fingertip. Moaning deep in his throat, he slipped his hand under her chin and tilted her head upwards to again meet his descending mouth. She arched herself upwards to accept the demands of his kiss, her mouth hungrily devouring the taste of his. She twined her fingers though the silky darkness of his hair, using battle- trained muscles to pin his head still while she thrust her tongue deeply between his teeth, almost touching the back of his throat. A touch of laughter echoed from his mind to hers, and he closed his teeth down on her tongue while he stroked the underside of it with the tip of his. As their tongues, teeth, mouths continued to duel and caress, he ran his hands over every curve of her body, delighting in the firmness of the muscles, the softness of her breasts, the heat between her legs. Emitting a whistling groan that was swallowed into his mouth, Scully shifted her position to allow his hand deeper access to the now-aching region between her legs, wishing for a way to strip the clothes off their bodies without having to lose one second of his touch on her or her touch on him. His lips curved into a smile as he moved downwards to suckle on the sensitive skin in the hollow of her throat, and he soundlessly sent her the thought, 'Your wish is my command.' As always, some amazement penetrated the whirlwind of desire possessing her mind when Scully felt Mulder summon and focus the mage energy. She shivered slightly in his embrace as the electric-like currents spun a fine, blue, glowing web around both of their bodies, leaping from his skin to hers like mini- lightning bolts. She felt the strength of his will fighting for - and finding - control, and then the sudden twist of release. "Wh-what?" she gasped, as the heavy chain mail and leather she was wearing glowed blue, then melted away, leaving her skin exposed to the hot and cold currents of air. Drawing her hands down his now-naked back, she pressed herself tighter against the heat of his skin, giggling slightly against his forehead, then lowering her head so that she could meet his amused, green- tinged eyes. He gave her a slow smile of such endearing warmth that her heart skipped a beat, a mix of tenderness and passion rushing through her heart. "Dana..." he breathed her name in so soft a velvety whisper, that she wasn't certain whether he'd said it aloud, or simply thought it. She responded with her mind, sending her own private image of him back down the bond-link; not "Fox," not "Mulder," but rather the very essence of him as seen through the filter of her love. "Dana..." again came his fully psychic response, as they shared another deep kiss, bodies pressing together, sliding past each other in search of the deepest possible contact. Using his shoulders as leverage, she pushed herself upwards to move her legs around his back. He slipped a hand under her and supported her as she came to rest upon him, arms and legs now locked behind his back. Then leaning downwards, he tried to lower her to the surface of the crystal beneath them. However, without the friction created by the now-absent clothing, the slick surface of the rock gave way, and entwined together, they slid downwards, landing with a splash into the heated pool below. Both came up sputtering, still grasping onto each other. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, rubbing the dripping hair back off his forehead. "Yes, I'm okay," she said with laughter in her voice. He grinned back at her, his eyes alight with the sight of her beauty. Standing on the bottom of the pool, the water lapping about his hips, he reached up to push his fingers through her hair, finding and releasing the pins one by one. She closed her eyes and leaned back slightly in the hot water which just barely covered the hardened tips of her breasts, enjoying the sense of utter contentment. The handful of pins clattered on the rocks as Mulder tossed them away. Then ran his hands through her hair, bringing it down to cover her shoulders and upper slopes of her flushed breasts in a riot of auburn tendrils. She sighed softly, not yet opening her eyes, her hips pressed up against his abdomen, her back half-floating on the water. He lowered one hand to rest under the small of her back, caressing the wet skin in slow gentle circles, while he leaned down over her to press soft kisses against her face and neck. Moving her hands around his back to anchor tightly against him, she abandoned herself to his caresses, delighting in the tingles of the nerves within her skin as his hands and mouth roamed over her body, ever so slowly, ever so tenderly, exploring each sweet, scented inch. The water bubbled over her skin, frothing between his fingers, flowing in warm waves over her belly and chest, meeting the probe of fingers into the most sensitive parts of her body. He traced her back and buttocks with one hand, while the other cupped the soft mounds of her chest, bringing a pebbled nipple up into the demanding heat of his mouth. A cry of ecstasy escaped her lips as he nibbled and bit at her, generating a furnace of need in the pit of her belly. While his mouth continued to suckle at her breasts, he drew one hand up the insides of her thighs in long sure stokes, pressing the palm of his hand deeply into the solid, muscled flesh; teasing the skin of her abdomen with light brushes of the fingertips of his other hand. Digging her hands into the powerful muscles of his shoulders, she convulsed up against him, legs spreading outward in invitation, her head falling backwards to rest on the water, her hair fanning out around them. Lifting his head to kiss her already swollen, red lips, he then looked deeply into her eyes as he met her unspoken command, plunging two if his fingers into the moist depths of her body, using his thumb to find and caress the throbbing center of her desire. His body shook with hers, the strength of her orgasm flooding them both in concentric waves of pleasure, drawing a cry from him as he struggled to maintain his control. Floating down to awareness, she gave him a glowing smile, claiming another deep kiss, then shifted to an upright position. Clamping her knees around his hips, she began to return his caresses, exploring his body with her hand and mouth, teasing his small nipples, tracing each line of muscle and bone. Sighing with delight, he gently lifted her head so he could look into her eyes. Her face was bright with love and amusement, joy and pleasure, her eyes wide and brilliant, her mouth parted in a gentle smile. Wet strands of bright red hair framed her face, a few tendrils pasted to the creamy skin. His eyes darkened in a returning flood of desire as his mind told her in a way that could never be verbalized just how beautiful she was. Her smile deepened as she returned the wave of love and admiration, leaning up to share a gentle soothing kiss. They rested in each other's arms for a few moments enjoying the simple closeness. Then, as desire slowly began to build again, they moved in total unison to sheath his aroused manhood into the moist center of her body. She slid down over him in perfect ease, fitting him like a glove. Tightening her vaginal muscles around him instinctively, she locked her arms and legs back around his shoulders and waist, glorying in the sense of oneness. He cupped her bottom with strong, but gentle hands and began to move her slowly against him. Sighing with pleasure, she used the satin- sheathed iron of his shoulders as a ballast, going with his movements, quickening the pace at which she slid along his length. Again claiming her mouth, his tongue mimicked the motions below, causing her to purr deep in her throat. Her body surrendering to the power of his, yet equally demanding in its pursuit of their ultimate union; she answered each thrust of his hips with a thrust of hers, each plunge of his tongue with a plunge of hers, rocketing them both into a maelstorm of ecstasy and fulfillment. Minds melding into the heat of their bodies, emotions and sensations feeding off each other, they slid over the edge of the volcano and tumbled into the furnace below, neither hearing the other's cry - or their own - as they again fused into one being: one mind, one body, one soul. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ "You are not going." Jourdain's voice was velvety steel, his expression forbidding. Dwarfed, but unintimidated, Aldara glared up at the big man. "I am going. Scully needs me." She enunciated each word slowly and carefully, "There is no way that I am going to let her face this without me." Pivoting on her heels, she turned away. "No, you are my officer and you have a job to do here." Worry and terror driving his anger, Jourdain reached out to grab her arm, pulling her back against him, only to jump back in shock as he found a knife pressed to his belly. "Don't ever touch me like that again," Aldara's eyes flashed emerald fury, her jaw gritted in fury. "And don't ever assume that just because you're bigger than me that you can push me around. This is a volunteer mission, and I am going whether it meets your fancy or not. I've taken care of myself quite well since I was a child, I can do so now." She poked him with the tip of the knife, then spun away, her small strides still eating up the ground as she left him behind. "Aldara!!!" he yelled after her, but she was gone, slipping into the chaos of the crowded camp with practiced ease. "By the gods," he swore, slumping to the ground. Of all the impossible, outrageous, reckless women in the Realm, why had he gotten stuck with that one. But a voice inside him reminded him all too clearly of why he had come to love the fiery, dark half-elf. He'd thought he'd never feel again the way he had about his late wife - and perhaps that was true. His feelings for Aldara were very different than his feelings for the sweet, gentle Niera. One had been his solace, his haven, the other was a constant pinprick under his skin; he couldn't stop arguing with her, he couldn't stop wanting her. And now she'd decided to risk herself on a suicide mission. He buried his head in his hands as he sat dejectedly in the dirt, feeling an intense sympathy for the foreign mage. Somehow Jourdain doubted Mulder had gotten any further with Scully than he had with Aldara. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Blinking as he walked out into the sunshine, Mulder turned to Scully who was walking silently beside him. "You are really going to do this, aren't you?" "Yes, I have to," she replied. "Just as you have to help Reinald create the Vortex." She laughed, but it was an unhappy sound. "I think I may be safer with the Dark Forces than you will be messing with that much energy." She came to a halt and peered anxiously up at him. "Do you really think that you can handle this?" He stopped in mid-stride and turned back to look down at her. Shrugging his shoulders, he answered, "I'm not sure. Reinald was able to open it to bring us through, and we have been able to recreate it on a small sale, though not for long. I guess we won't know until we try - it's too dangerous to practice in full-scale - so we'll find out tomorrow night." "That's not exactly encouraging, Mulder." She said, walking up past him towards the camp. "I know," he responded, falling in step beside her. "But it's the only way to stop them. We'll never win with swords and knives. What I wouldn't give for a truckload of machine guns." "I'd prefer a couple stealth bombers, or better yet, a couple of Patriot missiles." They grinned at each other, then both sighed and shook their heads. No use dreaming for the impossible. In silent, tense contemplation of the battle ahead, they walked together into the camp. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fairwood Crossing was no more than a deep crevasse between two sharp mountain peaks, a narrow winding ridge of rock that could carry no more than one horse, or two men walking abreast. It hugged the curves of the mountain edge, small loose pebbles tumbling down across and over it to vanish into the dark depths of the ravine. A few scraggly vines and trees clung desperately to its edge, their roots digging deep into the unsteady earth, clinging precariously to life. Dana Scully felt like she was sitting on the edge of just such a precipice as she stood looking across the empty air to the darkened landscape beyond. On the other side of the mountain, the earth crawled with creatures worse than her most terrible nightmares. Things with the eyes and mouths of beasts in twisted human faces wandered among lizard-like beings with foot-long jaws and layered rows of reddened teeth, half-human, half-lupine creatures with glowing eyes and clawed feet, blood-covered shapes that writhed and slithered along the ground, their featureless, eyeless heads shifting and shaking with every movement, and shimmering black spider webs that appeared and disappeared in pockets of pure dark nothingness that swallowed the very air itself. The Realm soldiers guarding this side of the path were worn and haggard, eyes haunted and red-lined. They spoke in no more than whispers, heads jerking in response to the slightest sound, even the barest whistle of the wind. Scully turned to meet Aldara's hooded green eyes, nodding slightly, receiving the slightest flicker of a response. Behind the two women, the remainder of the volunteer unit stood in grave silence, seven men and two women, each a survivor, each having lost all that was worth living for to the nightmare they were preparing to face again. Scully didn't know each of the stories in detail, but she'd seen enough over the past months to have a painfully accurate idea of what the tales might be. She had picked up too many pieces of human wreckage. And that was not ignoring the horrors suffered by the other races of the Realm, to Scully they were all 'human' now - as was anyone capable of love and goodness - in comparison to the living nightmares crawling on the rocks beyond the all-too-short divide. As it became obvious that dusk was beginning to fall, Scully drew a deep breath and sent a fervent prayer upwards to all and any gods there might be, her hand pressing unconsciously into the hollow of her throat where her mother's cross lay hidden under her leather tunic and the heavy silver armor. Then turning back to lead her nervous horse back away from the path's edge, she barked out a staccato series of instructions to the guards. "They'll try to cross as soon as the sun goes down. Hurj, you and your archers should fire some warning shots, then pull back up into the caverns to your right. Mulder and Flordan will have a Gate ready to retrieve you. When the time comes, move *fast*. We'll have a cavalry unit ready to come through from the other side to flank in behind the Dark Army as soon as it passes. "Jakeer, you and your people should give them a good fight. Make them feel like they're working for it, but do not sacrifice yourselves unnecessarily. Let them think you're retreating, then get out of the way. Reinald and Giels have a Gate set up just over the next rise to your left, as soon as I give the signal, get to it, and leave things to us. There'll be a troll unit ready to come through after you've cleared the Gate." Eyes grim, she turned back to her ten volunteers. "This is it. If there is anyone who wants to back out now, no one will question you." She peered intently from one set, determined face to another, each met her gaze squarely, fiercely. "We're with you," Aldara's voice was deadly calm, only the glitter of her emerald eyes betraying the emotions within. Like the others, she held herself like a rattlesnake prepared to strike. Scully took a deep breath, wishing she could talk her friend out of this, but knowing deep inside that nothing she could say would change the half-elf's stubborn mind. And Scully couldn't help feeling a rush of gratitude that her friend was here with her. It helped immeasurably not to be facing this alone. "You're not alone...never alone..." came the softest of echoes in the corner of her mind. "Mulder," she sighed under her breath. Even over several kilometers, their lifebond was strong enough for him to be heard. She closed her eyes for a brief second savoring the love and support that trickled over that tenuous, precious link. Then she opened her eyes and nodded, accepting Aldara's words on behalf on the small company. "Okay, we'll settle in behind Jakeer's group. Stay back until I signal, then race forward to fill the breach while the others slip away. We'll charge the lead creatures, sting them as hard as we can, then run back away. Be *quick*!" She glared at them, trying to force her orders home. "We want to anger them, bring them after us. And we need to get out of it alive. They won't follow us into the trap if we're dead. So it doesn't matter if you kill, maim, or miss your target. One strike and then *run*! Is that understood?" Ten heads nodded understanding, ten pairs of eyes met hers in unblinking concordance. Before Scully could give the order to take their positions, one of the sentry's gave a ringing yell. "They're coming, they're coming!" Without a single more word spoken, the assembled Realm forces scattered into position, each person, human, elf, or gargoyle finding their assigned spot in a rapid, noiseless scramble. Scully and her unit mounted their horses in a unison, fluid motion, racing back to shelter behind a big outcrop of granite stone. Peering just around the edge, Scully's eyes widened in a mix of terror and rage as she watched the flood of creatures begin to cross the divide. Arrows whistled in the darkened air as Hurj and his gargoyle archers let fly a deadly volley of spell-tipped arrows. Screams rent the air as four of the hunters and one of the crawlers stumbled, two sliding from the edge. The other two bodies were simply ignored by their fellows, crushed underneath as more and more of the monsters pushed their way across. As the first Destroyer passed the mangled bodies, it swooped down a long claw and picked up a broken forearm and bit into it with manic pleasure. Two more volleys of arrows, the last fire-tipped, then the archers fell back, melding into the rocks like shadows. The attention of the Dark forces was immediately seized by the shrieking battle cry of the human soldiers. Names of the various clan houses filling the air, they took up position at the edge of the pass, a place so narrow, the creatures had to attempt to pass one by one. The battle raged for a brief span of time, a time that still seemed endless to Scully and Aldara as they watched from their sheltered vantage point. The hunters and crawlers clambered over the fallen bodies heedlessly, the soul-eaters leaping into the air, crying their hunger towards the rising moons. Slowly, ever so slowly, the human forces slipped backwards, giving up ground inch by apparently reluctant inch. One soldier, overcome with fury and terror, ignored his orders and threw himself up over the backs of the hunters, managing to launch a flashing knife directly into the eyes of the lead Destroyer, before he fell to the ground to be torn apart limb by limb between a soul-eater and a small hunter. The doomed man's screams of mixed triumph and excruciating pain mixed with those of the blinded monster as it drew the knife out its eyes, blood spurting from the wound. Other men fell too, one drawn into the gaping mouth of a misshapen crawler, another tossed up into the air to fall into the mouths of three hunters. Another soldier used his sword to cleave off his own leg at the knee, leaving the bloody stump in the mouth of a soul-eater, dragging himself backward on one leg, until another soldier could carry him out of the way. As the monsters slowly fanned out onto the ledge, Scully gave a piercing whistle which was taken up by Aldara and Jakeer. In a carefully planned and perfectly executed drill, the two forces changed positions before the Dark Forces even knew it was occurring. Blinded by the taste of blood and flesh, and consumed by the driving need for more, they never noticed that the faces of their targets altered. Jakeer and his men melded back into the shadows, slipping up the rocks and out of sight, while Scully and her small unit charged forward with whooping cries and swords flashing brightly in the double-moonlight. Scully rode like an avenging angel, her hair a glowing red, her eyes flashing blue fire, her sword scything through the air like a lightning bolt. Aldara was her dark mirror, hair floating around her face in an ebony cloud, eyes brighter than emeralds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, controlling her terror- stricken stallion with no more than the pressure of her knees. Side by side they drove straight for the lead monsters, swiping out in every direction with the deadly silver blades. Scully choose one large hunter, and in one precisely- timed stroke, half-severed its neck. Then, yanking back on the reins with her other hand, she pivoted her rearing horse on its hind legs and raced back the way she had come. Aldara was only seconds behind her, leaving the small silver knife embedded in the dripping nose of the crawler that had consumed one of the soldiers, her sword burning with the guts of a soul-eater. Seven of the others were quickly behind them, leaving two casualties behind, a woman whose screams of triumph degenerated into agony as her horse was literally eaten out from under her. Falling into the claws of the monsters, she bravely took two of them with her into death. The last man almost made it free, but was taken from behind by one of the dark spider webs, his cries literally sucked out of his mouth. Not waiting to let it drain him slowly, he found enough remaining strength to sever his own throat in one desperate slash of his knife. Howls split the air as his spurting blood creating a feeding frenzy among the monsters, tumbling over each other to steal a taste of the sticky red fluid. Then in a burst of resumed blood-lust, they chased blindly after the fleeing riders, pressing each other onward in a violent stampede, causing the ground itself to shake, seemingly in revulsion of the horrors that ran and crawled over its helpless surface. Just barely holding a small distance between them and their pursuers, Scully and her group rode like the wind, knees and feet digging into the sides of horses that hardly needed the direction. nothing would have stopped the frightened animals now. Nothing, but a misstep on the rocky ground. "Aldara!!!!" Scully screamed in horror as her friend's horse stumbled and crashed to the ground a few paces in front of her, rolling its huge weight over the tiny half-elf. "Go! Go!" Scully ordered the others, swooping down off her horse to pull Aldara away from the wounded steed, which was struggling to find its feet, whinnying in pain as its broken leg couldn't take the weight. "Get out of here," Aldara yelled through gritted teeth at Scully, trying to push her away. Scully didn't bother wasting the breath on reply, she simply grabbed Aldara under her arms and yanked her to her feet, causing Aldara to gasp in pain as weight came down on a shattered foot. The howls of the monsters getting closer and closer behind them, Scully tried desperately to lever Aldara onto her horse, but was unable to do so. Slipping in and out of consciousness, Aldara was dead weight in Scully's arm, her small size belying the heaviness of her well-trained muscles. A whinnying scream rent the air as Aldara's horse was claimed by a pair of soul-eaters. Scully turned to look over Aldara's shoulder, only to find herself looking straight into huge open mouth of a hunter. It grinned wickedly at her, almost willing to play with a helpless prey before claiming it. "Noooo!" Scully wasn't sure if the cry was even hers, as she somehow found strength she didn't know she had to toss Aldara up onto the back of the other horse. Then she drew her sword, pivoting warily as she realized they were surrounded. One of the hunters swiped out at her and she took its foreclaw off in one clean sweep. Two more circled in on her, and she barely escaped being crushed between them, only her small size and quick speed saving her. Ducking and twisting, she fought what she knew was a hopeless battle, praying only to take as many of them with her as she could. "Nooo," another cry of rage and terror split through her mind, this time accompanied by a wave of burning energy. "Mulder!" she screamed his name as a soul-eater rushed between her legs, spilling her to the ground, the sword clattering out of her hand as it struck a jagged rock. The creatures moved in on her, only to jerk back whining as bolts of blue lightning sizzled across her skin and up though the air. Thunder roared above, as the air thickened. "Aaahhh," Scully groaned aloud, her body writhing on the ground. Unbelievable currents of power coursed through her, setting her veins on fire, sending shocks racing up every nerve in her body. Drawn in by the alluring Mage-energy, the two soul-eaters grew closer in an attempt to feed, but found themselves tossed several feet in the air as a flash of white lightning hit the ground between them, mixing with the blue fire sparking the air around Scully. Stumbling to her feet, she felt the fire grow in her until it was nearly unbearable, unable to understand or control the incessant waves of energy that flowed through her. "Mulder!" she cried once more, body jerking again as his mind flew along the streams of power, fusing with hers, bringing the control she needed. Together, minds melded to one purpose, they created a ring of blue flames around Scully, her horse, and the unconscious Aldara. Then surrendering control of part of her mind to Mulder, allowing him maintain the power through her, she forced her aching body up onto the rearing, wild-eyed horse, reining it in tightly. She secured Aldara to the saddle, the wounded half elf's arms and legs hanging limply off either side of the horse. Once they were both settled on the horse, Scully sat for a moment, amazed by the incredible waves of power that flowed into her mind and out of her body, utterly controlled by the fierce will of her bondmate. She'd experienced him in her mind before, and had felt him exercise his talent, but never quite so intimately. This time she was part of it, she could direct it, direct him. The sense of power was almost overwhelming, she felt exultant, charged, like she was riding a whirlwind. But a moaning sob from Aldara broke her concentration, and she reluctantly eased back on the link with Mulder. Sensing instantly what she needed, he gave her one deep rush of love and affection, then released the link - and the mage-energy - in one booming, blinding explosion. Shielding her eyes, Scully forced her horse into an almost instant gallop, her head and body bent down over its neck, her feet pounding into its flanks. Snorting, it raced over the rocks, kicking up clouds of dirt, eating up the ground in long rapid strides. Holding on to both the horse and Aldara for dear life, Scully drove them forward at an nearly impossible pace, actually catching up with and passing the remainder of her troop. They hardly noticed she was there, never altering their run, never looking behind. Together, they led the Dark Army through the mountains, across a trickling stream and up onto the edge of the Urrin plains, bringing their bloodlust-blinded pursuers ever deeper into the trap. End of Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Jourdain stood at the cavern's lip staring out over the dusty plains. Turning, he paced back and forth in the shadows, pausing every so often to peer again over the moonlit grassland, watching for the tell-tale signs on movement on the horizon that would signal the approach of the enemy led by the remainder of Scully's small troop. A man more accustomed to action than contemplation, Jourdain felt itchy and uneasy. But with the troops all set and waiting, the Gates installed, everyone in place, all he could do was wait. Already the Dark Army was on the move, heading straight for the trap that had been so carefully set. A trap or a disaster - Jourdain wasn't sure what the outcome would be. His heart twisted in his breast as he recalled Mage Mulder's half-sorrowing, half-reassuring words. Only six members of the original ten volunteers had still been alive when they passed the sentries hiding in the abandoned village of Erensto. Two had fallen in the first skirmish, two more along the road. Almost three - the thought made Jourdain want to scream with his sense of helplessness. Mulder had insisted that Aldara was alive, clinging stubbornly to life in Scully's arms. "Stubborn," Jourdain laughed bitterly, that certainly described the fiery, dark- haired woman who had become the center of his life, even in the middle of what could become the end of their world. Briefly closing his eyes in agony, he prayed that she would make it through this alive, though he was well aware of the irony of hoping for one person's survival, when all could perish. "Jourdain?" Mulder stepped up beside the bigger man so quietly, Jourdain didn't notice he was there until the Mage's voice broke the silence. Pulling into a fighting stance automatically, Jourdain forced himself to relax as he recognized his companion. "Any word?" Mulder tensed, then shrugged, his eyes darkening. "They're covering ground pretty well, but it should still be another hour before they get to the change point. The replacement unit is ready - and getting anxious. Gera is holding the Gate, we'll bring them directly to the cavern Corvay has preempted as a Healing site." He brushed long tendrils of black hair out of his eyes, absently wishing that he'd taken the time to cut it, but there never had been the time to think of such things. The few stolen moments not spent in preparation for this night had been focused solely on Scully. He didn't begrudge a second of that time, he just wished there had been more. "They are alive," Mulder knew he was reassuring himself as much as the grizzled soldier standing tensely beside him. "My sense for Scully increases as she gets closer. She's nearly exhausted, but still hanging on. The images are shaky, but I think Aldara is unconscious, but alive. Perhaps it is best she's not aware right now." Jourdain nodded his head, still eyeing the plains, not trusting himself to speak. With total understanding, Mulder reached out to grasp the other man's shoulder, then silently re- entered the cave. ~ ~ ~ Bending down over the neck of the sweating horse, Scully hung on for dear life as they raced across the small stream, spewing up splashes of ice-cold water. The wind tore at the skin of her face and hands, whipped her hair loose from its bindings, and bit at her lungs. Clenching her teeth, she urged the increasingly exhausted animal below her onward with tightly wedged knees, though the whining howls and bitter stench of the horde following all too closely behind was a much stronger stimulus to the horse's instincts than the weakening pressure its rider brought to bear. Tears stinging her bloodshot eyes as she lifted her head to gauge their course, Scully tightened her grip on Aldara's limp body, and pulled the horse slightly to the right. It resisted for a moment, then gave in, for one direction was as good as another, as long as it was away from their pursuers. Scully didn't even bother to look behind her to see if the remnants of her small company had followed her lead; if they were still alive, they would be there. If they weren't, she didn't want to know. Closing down her mind to anything except the motion, the ground speeding away under the clatter of the horse's hooves, she focused solely on staying awake. Almost there, almost there, almost there...the words kept repeating in her mind, a mix of hope and utter desperation. ~ ~ ~ "Go!" Karvan screamed. He spurred his big white horse through the arching light of the Gate, leading a group of seven elven warriors dressed in yellow leather and bright silver mail. Together the eight galloped in a neat arrowhead formation, Karvan leading, Guiran and Teedin forming the point. Breaking around a pile of crumbled rock, they burst out onto the far edge of the Uriin plains. Running at angle, they soon pulled up beside the ragged remnants of Scully's troop . Karvan immediately recognized the Traveller woman, her auburn hair blowing out behind her like a banner in the wind, the body of his half-cousin laying in front of her. The closest of her remaining volunteers was several paces behind, the man swaying dangerously in his saddle. The next was a woman, clutching blindly to her horse's mane, her face a bloody mass of tissue and broken bones. The last two men were riding double on a staggering horse, one man's leg dangling literally by a string, the flesh and bone clawed in half. Sickened, Karvan threw a horrified glance behind him, eyes widening in shock at the size of the Dark Army. It seemed to fill the entire horizon, like a giant black sea swallowing the land beneath it. For the first time truly realizing what they were up against, Karvan expertly paced himself to Scully's horse and reached out to grab her hand. Bent against the horse's neck, wind-scarred eyes centered on the ground ahead, she jolted, almost falling off the horse in sudden panic. "Easy, easy, Traveller Scully." Karvan's shouted words were whipped away by the wind. Scully gasped, reaching for her boot-knife, then relaxed slightly in relief as she recognized the dark-haired, slender elf. Meeting her eyes, Karvan nodded, then jerked his head to the right. "Around the next bend, take off to the right. You won't have long, be quick!" he reminded her. Her eyes flickered in understanding, pulling back on the reins just enough to let him race out ahead of her. Then she angled to the right, finally allowing herself to look back at the rest of her troop. A mixture of relief and anguish caught her, as she was grateful to see that half were still alive, but saddened to know which ones were gone. While maintaining a full gallop, the experienced elven riders assisted the almost exhausted human soldiers into a single file line to the far right. Then, just as the path ahead narrowed between two gigantic columns of rock, marking the edge of the Uriin plains, they began a rapid set of maneuvers, swords flashing reflected moonlight, sing-song war cries echoing in the wind, silver chain mail glittering. Not wasting a second, Scully drew her horse behind the right stone tower, begging it for one final burst of speed. It obeyed long enough to bring them out of sight, then stumbled to its knees, gasping for breath, its mouth foaming. Scully went with it, sliding off it in one fluid motion, moaning as her legs began to crumble underneath her. Fighting for control, she forced her legs to support her, reaching out to untie Aldara. "We'll get her," a pair of strong arms accompanied the whispered words, closing around Scully's waist and lifting her off the ground. Twisting to break free, she turned to come face-to- face with a very familiar face. "Jourdain," she sighed in relief, letting herself sink into the welcoming warmth of his arms. Catching her as she slumped against him, Jourdain swung the small woman up over his shoulder and carried her towards the shimmering Gate. Only when he was sure that Scully was safely though the Gate and surrendered into the hands of a brown-robed Healer, did he race back to Aldara. Without a word, he gently, but firmly, removed her from the arms of the soldiers carrying her, a sob catching in his throat as she murmured and shifted in his grasp, pressing her head into the warmth of his chest. Holding her like an infant, supporting her head in the crook of his shoulder, he strode through the Gate, eyes shedding silent tears, rough features calm and set. Inside him a voice kept shouting in joy, she's alive, she's alive, she's alive! ~ ~ ~ "Here, Traveller Scully, drink this," the young healer, her blond hair coiled over her human ears in thick braids, was holding out a steaming cup of tea. Scully accepted it mutely, closing her reddened hands around the mug gratefully. Sitting on the edge of a makeshift bed, simply a pair of mattresses placed between rocks on the cavern floor, the room swirled around her, her body feeling like it was still in motion. She barely noticed when the hot tea scalded her throat. "Scully?" Corvay brushed the wings of auburn hair out of his apprentice's face. Blinking, she shook her head slightly, trying to bring his face into focus. "Corvay?" she asked in a trembling voice. "Yes, Scully, it's me. Are you hurt?" His pointy ears nearly twitching, he placed a cooling hand on her forehead. His touch was gentle on her wind-burned skin, while his mind soothing hers with gentle waves of comfort. "No, I'm okay," she replied automatically, slowly coming to awareness of her surroundings. The Healer unit looked rather like a distorted WWI army field hospital buried in a cave. Torches, lanterns and an occasional Mage-light threw flickering streams of light over tables covered with bottles and jars, mattresses and blankets strewed among crystals and rock formations, pots of water boiling over small flames, scurrying personnel dressed in the healer's invariant brown robe, the white of the Priesthod, and the soldier's green leather. The war hadn't begun yet in earnest, and already there were casualties to be cared for. Flooded with a mixture of relief, grief, and an emotion that felt almost like depression, she chugged down one more swallow of the tea, gasping slightly at its heat, then began an internal check. She sighed aloud as she realized that she was going to be VERY sore, but otherwise all right. Then reaching out along the length of the bond-link she brushed the edge of Mulder's mind, feeling a welcome rush of love and relief; affection and support. She sighed softly, not noticing the tear that traced its muddy way down her dusty cheek. Kneeling at her feet, Corvay smiled as he monitored her self-check, something that had been the hardest lesson for her to learn. Now, she did it like an expert, too caught up in the past events to notice what she was doing. He opened his mouth to praise her, but Scully interrupted before he had time to speak. "Aldara!" Scully jolted to her feet, knocking Corvay backwards, inwardly reprimanding herself. How could she have forgotten her friend, if only for a few minutes? As she came awkwardly to her unsteady feet, Corvay landed in an undignified heap of brown wool on the floor, muttering in annoyance. "Where is she?" Ignoring his reaction, Scully abandoned her cup of tea, stepping directly over Corvay to run towards the Gate. Just as she came up to the brightly shimmering arch, Jourdain burst through it, Aldara cradled in his arms. "Quick," Scully shouted, her own exhaustion instantly forgotten. "Bring her over here." She tugged on Jourdain's sleeve, pulling him towards the bed she had just abandoned. Jourdain placed Aldara down gently on the mattress, only reluctantly letting go of her when Scully pushed him aside. Corvay gave Scully an irritated look, but let it subside, no time for questions of dignity now. "Is she going to be okay. Can you help her?" Jourdain stood anxiously at the end of the bed, balancing in frustration from heel-to-toe. "We'll do better without you making noise," Corvay grumbled, peering up at the Captain towering over him, his pointed ears twitching. "Surely you've got more important things to do than make our work more difficult." Dismissing Jourdain, Corvay turned his attention back to his patient, slipping easily into the healing trance. Jourdain wanted to yell at the little elf, but he knew the healer was right. He had a war to fight and win. His personal concerns would have to wait. Muttering under his breath, "Take care of her," he spun on his heels and headed out towards the larger adjacent cavern leaving Aldara in Corvay and Scully's hands. Taking towels soaked in heated water and herbs, Scully began to clean Aldara's wounds. As much as she wanted to dive into the trance with Corvay and assist him in the internal healing, she knew that she was in no condition to help. The trance involved deep concentration and energy, but Scully was exhausted and unfocused. Images kept flooding her mind: the blood spurting from the young man's throat while his body was being consumed by the black web; soldiers being torn apart, limb from limb; rows of jagged teeth in a Hunter's jaw so close that she could smell the rotten stench of its breath; the horrible manic pleasure in the Destroyer's twisted features; the sight of the Dark Army covering the ground like a giant plague of locusts. Closing her eyes in anguish, she forced herself to concentrate on the simple task of caring for her wounded friend. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Mulder stood near the edge of the Sentinel cliff, peering anxiously towards the plains. In the midnight dark, they looked more like a giant ocean than a field of grass and weeds, the wind causing faint ripples across the dim surface. The two moons gave just enough light for him to see the oncoming enemy. From the heights they resembled a giant black tidal wave, pushing a few flickering spots of light before them. Shivering despite the warmth of his blue woolen cloak, he again reminded himself that Scully was no longer out there. He had known the moment Jourdain had helped her through the Gate to relative safety, feeling the miles between them collapse. Now that she was so much closer, he could sense her thoughts and emotions like an undercurrent in his mind. He reached out to caress the edge of her mind, barely skimming the surface of her thoughts, catching a flash of Aldara's whitened face and an image of torchlight flickering across Corvay's white hair. She was worried and exhausted, but fighting, this time for her friend's life. A well-spring of love washed over him as he considered what an extraordinary woman Dana Scully was. It amazed him that a woman of such resilient courage and strength could love *him*. The certainty that she did brought him a deep sense of joy. And the knowledge that she was alive and safe - as much as anyone in the Realm could be - gave him the strength to face the difficult ordeal ahead. Reaching deep within himself, he exercized the Mage power, wrapping his mind around the flow of energy, feeling it surge at his command. Then, shutting it back down, he remained standing still and silent on the cliff edge. Waiting for the battle to begin. ~ ~ ~ The elven Riders had long since given up on anything but racing for their lives. Gone were the flashy shows of expertise, the intricate patterns and formations. Now they rode like the wind, a small group of silvered shapes running in the night, pursued by an army of demons. The Dark Army ran in a mighty stampede, the earth itself groaning underneath their weight. Collapsing into a thick, heavy stream of twisted shapes, they squeezed between the columns at the neck of the Uriin plains, pushing each other onward in a famished frenzy. The slow among their own ranks were crushed under claw and slither, left mangled to expire in their own fluids, or more mercifully at the hands of the stealthy Realm units cleaning up behind their enemy. No survivors were spared, no quarter given. The watching Realm forces, hidden in the shadows of the cliffs, waited in grave silence until the last of the monsters cleared the bottleneck, nearly filling the massive plains with their immense number. But at last the trap was set, the die cast. The Time had come. Jourdain looked at Andalor and the representatives of the neighboring kingdoms. All three solemnly met his gaze, inclining their heads. The war leader bowed once, then strode towards the edge of the cavern. His eyes focused on the shining figures of the Riders closing in at breakneck speed, their light in sharp contrast to the heavy darkness all too close behind, he closed his eyes and, sending a fervent prayer, he gave one single, simple command: "Now!" Instantly the night turned into day, as the shimmering outline of Gates burst into being at the four corners of the plains. >From the center of the glowing arches flowed green-clad humans and silver-clad elves, gargoyles brandishing spears as long as they were tall, trolls waving spears and heavy wrought iron axes. Seeing only fresh sources of blood and tasty flesh, the Dark forces split into random chaos, the creatures bounding over each other to chase the most obvious morsel among the forces arrayed against them. From his vantage point at the cavern's edge, Jourdain could only hope that the lack of control and organization within the Dark hierarchy would give the Realm an advantage. In the center of the plains the battle was a nightmare of shadows and screams. Here an elf went down under the claws of a hunter, there a troll hacked a screetching crawler into pieces. The Destroyers on their massive brutal mounts cut wide swaths through the Realm defenders, screams of triumph mixing with the cries of the dying. The spinning web-creatures drew victim after victim, leaving no more than dried and empty bones to clatter to the ground. One Mage caught a webspinner in mid-meal, blasting it with a charge of blue fire. The blue light was instantly absorbed into the dark center, then like a tornado spewing out dust, it threw out the blue flames, shrinking in on itself into a pinpoint of darkness. Its half-digested victim collapsed to the ground, skeletal legs hanging from a steaming torso, his cries lost in amid the clamor of the battle. With a fervor borne of desperation, the Realm forces held the Dark Army to the Uriin plains, even using the growing piles of corpses as one more barrier - one more enticement - to keep the monsters trapped. One troll unit took down a destroyer, while nearly simultaneously a gargoyle unit fell below an onslaught of crawlers and hunters. Each win was bought at a bloody price, each loss brought them closer to final annihilation. ~ ~ ~ Reaching behind him to touch the hilt of his sword, still encased in its sheath on his back, Jourdain wished he were out there on the battlefield instead of being confined to the cave. "Someone must command, my friend. It is sometimes very much the harder chore." Reinald came to stand at his old friend's side, his face drawn and lined, combining with his whitened hair to give the impression of great age. Jourdain studied him for a moment, then stared out again at the battle raging in the moonlight. "Don't you have a spell to prepare?" he said abruptly. Reinald didn't respond for a moment, watching the other man closely. Then he wrapped his blue Mage's cloak around him, and turned to leave. "Be ready. We may not be able to hold it for long." he warned as he stepped through a small Gate to the top of the cliffs. Jourdain didn't answer. ~ ~ ~ Pausing in her rush to help to assist the latest casualty, Scully felt for Aldara's pulse. It beat strong and steady within the small woman's throat. At least she would survive, even if she had probably lost full use of her right leg. Scully was grateful for her friend's life, saddened at the many losses she knew were yet to come. Brushing back a wayward strand of orange-red hair, the tired but determined healer turned to help carry the broken figure of a troll towards one of the few remaining beds. Just as she settled the small bulky figure onto the mattress, she stumbled to her knees, gasping for breath. "Mulder...." ~ ~ ~ "Mulder," Reinald's mindvoice was quiet, but certain. "It's time." Mulder threw one last glance at the raging combat so far below, then turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with his teacher and friend. Their minds linked with the ease of long practice, power lancing between their tall, stark figures and throwing sparks of blue fire out into the night. Standing against the darkened sky, their bodies were soon enveloped in a bright blue glow, the clouds gathering above their heads in response to the concentrated energy. Lightning lit the sky in a brilliant show of light, striking down among the combatants, mixing with the blue bolts thrown from the other Realm magicians, filling the air above the plains with a brilliant display of fireworks. To anyone looking up from the battlefield below, they appeared as twin columns of blue light. In one swift unison movement, their arms swung outwards long fingers pointing down into the center of the plain. Strands of Mage energy twined through the four hands, then leaped outward. One in mind, one in purpose, the two magicians melded their power into a single long, shining filament of blue fire, flames spun like silk fibers. Stretching down from the pinnacle of the cliffs, the power flew until it hit the ground in a blinding explosion. Night turned to day, as a huge blazing blue circle formed on the ground, everything within it burned to ashes in no more than a single breath. Gale force winds blew in concentric paths, fanning the flames, driving the Dark forces back as they hid from the brilliant light. Dust and ashes, bones and broken flesh flew upward into a spinning tornado, bolts of electricity racing across the edges. Then, in a second thunderclap, the whirlwind resolved into the water-like black and white ripples of the Vortex. High on the cliffs, both magicians staggered under the weight of holding the power in check, the Vortex spinning and reverberating in nauseating patterns, threatening to break from their control. "Go! Drive them into it. Into the Vortex!" Jourdain screamed from the cavern's edge, his bellow merely a whisper in the storm. But the soldiers nearest him took up the cry, and from mouth to mouth is echoed throughout the ranks, until it reached the front lines. Soon thousands upon thousands of voices, male and female, human and elven, gargoyle and troll, were shouting as one: "Into the Vortex!" Swords flashing with reflected light, the Realm forces began to drive the light-blinded creatures into the nebulous center of the massive Vortex. With cries of rage and frustration, the monsters were finally forced backwards, howling in fury and defiance, even as their bodies were sucked up into the whirlwind. Then, with a shrieking yell, one, then two, then three destroyers broke free of the ring of Realm fighters crowding them closer into the center, creating new avenues of combat, whirls and eddies of slashing claws and clanging swords spreading throughout the plains. Again it was a game of give-and-take, the each small triumph balanced by a loss, the senseless force of the Vortex stealing away its first Realm casualty, then a second and a third. The cries of the fourth seemed to be carried on the wind to the Mages fighting with the very universe itself to control the raging beast they had unleashed. Shoulders bent, eyes squeezed shut, veins nearly popping through his skin, Reinald stumbled upon his hands and knees. "Mulder..." his mind-voice called in despair. But Mulder was too caught in the struggle to maintain control to be able to respond, his body held stiff and upright, back ramrod straight, fists clenched at his sides, fingertips digging into the flesh of his palms. His head was tilted upwards to the sky, his eyes wide open, his mind burning within his skull. "Mulder..." Reinald gave one last frantic call, then collapsed to the ground in a broken heap. "Reinald!" Mulder screamed to the stars, not needing to look down to know that Reinald was gone, his mind shuttered into peaceful darkness, exhausted and empty. The broken link shot back into Mulder's mind and body causing him to convulse as the blue fibers whipped around him, lancing his skin, searing his eyes. On the battlefield below, the Vortex shifted and swung, drifting to first one side, then another, swallowing everyone and everything in its path. Reaching deep down into himself, Mulder strained for every last bit of strength he had, drawing on the deepest resources, cannibalizing his body's own energy sources in unconscious desperation. Knees buckling, he came down hard on the rough stone, a strangled cry escaping from between his gritted teeth. The power swirled around him, barely contained, pushing to break free of the Mage's control, pressing to explode free into the heavens. In one instant the battle collapsed into a mutual retreat, Dark creatures and Realm defenders joining in one massive flight for safety. The Vortex swung free, indiscriminately sucking up every living being in its path. The attempts of the few Realm leaders to restore order failed, then were abandoned as the raging tornado swelled to two, then three times its original size. It angled to one side, then swung to another at random, the cries of those caught in its path lost in the gale-force winds. Jourdain grabbed for his sword and pushed his way out onto the battlefield, charging against the flood of his own men, mixed uncaringly with the Dark creatures. He swiped the 'head' off one crawler as it slithered past him, then shouted as he saw a shell-shocked Karvan standing frozen in the midst of the chaos, staring up at the Vortex, his sword hanging limply from his hand. "Karvan!" Jourdain cried again, finally squeezing through to grab the slender elf's silvery-shoulder and shake him. Karvan's eyes were bloodshot and dilated as they turned to look up into the war leader's face, taking long moments to recognize Jourdain. Once the recognition and awareness hit, the elf looked around him in horror, bolting backwards into the bigger human as a terrified, whining pack of soul-eaters brushed by him, commingling with a troop of ash-colored gargoyles. Leaning against Jourdain, Karvan glanced back up at the violent, spinning maw of the Vortex and shuddered. "Get a hold on yourself!" Jourdain growled. "We've got to rally our people." Karvan stared at him in disbelief, hysterical laughter bubbling out of his throat. "Rally? Are you crazy? That *thing* is out of control!" "All the more reason to drive the Dark forces into it, it's our only hope!" Jourdain insisted. Karvan just laughed. "The prophecy has rung true, and we are doomed. Doomed!" He threw his head back and laughed bitterly. Seconds later, he hit the ground in a pile of limbs and weapons, only barely missing being stepped on by a pair of wild- eyed horses bereft of their riders. Jourdain didn't spare him, striking out with his foot to kick the elf with the toe of his boot. "Get up, you helpless coward and get yourself together. It's not over yet, and I intend to keep fighting. "Coward? How dare you call me that, you overgrown hulk of human manure!" Elven temper aroused, Karvan leapt to his feet, brandishing his sword, only to meet Jourdain's grimly amused grin. "You son of a whore!" Karvan swore again, but he lowered his head and nodded. "OK, 'war leader,'" he said sarcastically, "just what exactly do you think the two of us can do?" Jourdain frowned deeply, since he really had absolutely no idea what they could do. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to try. "There!" he spotted a stubborn group of trolls fiercely crowding a group of hunters back towards the unpredictable Vortex. "Come on!" He seized Karvan's arm and half-dragged him through the stampede, using the bulk of his shoulder's like a battering ram. When they reached the small troop of axe-wielding trolls, both the human soldier and the horseless elf Rider joined in a desperate attempt to continue the fight, each praying silently that somehow the Mages would find a way to bring the Vortex back under control before it swallowed them all. ~ ~ ~ Deep in the caverns below, Dana Scully fell to the rocky floor, her body laced with blue currents. The air within the cavern itself grew thick and heavy, the Gate behind her wavering in and out. "Back, get back!" Corvay shouted, pushing people away. "Evacuate now!" No one questioned the small aged elf's order, gathering the wounded up between them, healers, priestesses and soldiers alike scurried deeper into the caverns, leaving Corvay and the nearly senseless Scully behind. "Scully!" Corvay called out, trying to touch her, but a blue spark lanced into his hand, sending him sliding backwards across the floor. Scully moaned and shifted, her skin burning brilliant blue, rolling onto her back and stretching a hand towards the distant ceiling. On the cliff top, Mulder continued to hang onto consciousness by a thread, mind lost in whirlpool of liquid fire, his open eyes sightless. The Vortex slipped further from his control, threatening to escape him, but he held. For a few terrifyingly long instants, he kept control. He reached again for Reinald's mind - but the end of the link was dark and empty. He was alone... "Mulder..." Scully's voice echoed into the whirlwind of his mind. "Mulder...!" Her mindvoice was terrified and demanding at once. "Mulder..mulder....mulde..." It came again and again, bringing with it the very sense of her: the scented smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body, the color of her eyes. "Scully, *no*!" He cried back down the link. "Get out, get out...get out!" But he was incapable of shielding her, his mind flying closer and closer to the edge of the yawning Vortex. It pulled at him, teased him, drew him. All he had to do was relax and it would be over. "Mulder, no!" Her voice was louder, more insistent. It rang in his ears, flooded his awareness, yanking him back from the abyss. Abruptly, their minds fused, both tumbling as one small ball of awareness around the edge of the roiling Vortex. Around and around they went, rocketed on the streams of power, until with one massive grasp for control, the Mulder/Scully meld seized onto one glowing strand of energy and then another. Ever so slowly they wove one incandescent fiber of energy around the others, until they secured the edge of the vortex in a gleaming blue web. The ravenous hole strained against the delicate strands entangled around it, but was unable to break free. For what seemed like an eternity, the joint mind continued to add to the web, layer after layer of energy, until the remainder of their strength slipped out in one final gasp. Together, they tumbled into darkness, not into the heart of the vortex, but rather into a soft, deep, warm place in the center of their being, in the apex of mind-link, two so fully joined as one that their bodies were left to fall where they were, the separate shells empty and abandoned. End of Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen When the vortex stabilized, drawing in upon itself and standing still like a stationary whirlpool in the bloody center of the plains, a few of the Realm survivors began fighting anew. In wake of Karvan's flashing silver blade, Jourdain's merciless steel sword, and the axes of berserk troop of trolls cutting bloody swaths through the creatures in their path, a new battle line was drawn. One by one the fleeing Realm soldiers felt themselves shamed by their precipitous flight, and turning with weapons drawn, chose a still-retreating monster and attacked. Pockets of combat formed in eddies of the stampede, blockages around which the flow stopped and rearranged. Like centers of precipitation in an over-concentrated salt solution, the small battles aggregated into larger complexes, elven tempers aroused in bright flashes of silver, troll cries echoing, terrified creatures of the night falling dead to the ground, or driven with screeches of outrage and helpless fury into the maw of the Vortex. At long last, the tide had turned. The Realm defenders finally saw victory in their grasp and with fierce determination they seized upon it. Most still running in instinctive terror, the creatures of the Dark were unprepared for the abrupt assaults that came from all sides. They were separated, so tightly mixed with their foes that the power of their numbers was diluted. Packs were split, individuals isolated, so that now it was four elves chopping on a single hunter, two gargoyles slicing at a single lost soul-eater, a destroyer going down amid the raging cries of a dozen human soldiers. As the war continued, pockets of the Dark Army coalesced and put up violent opposition. The ground grew thick and slippery in blood, fighters stumbled over the fallen of both armies, each Dark death drawing its bitter cost. But momentum was on the defenders' side, and inch by gory inch, they surrounded and drove the disoriented creatures into the center of the Vortex, watching in triumph as they were sucked out of the universe and into the unknown beyond. Night slipped unnoticed into a gray and cloudy dawn, and then into a muddy noon, as the conflict continued. It took yet another dusk and rising moons until the last Dark creature was thrown with strangled cries, half-broken, into the yawning Vortex which spun and twisted, ever trying to break free of the invisible magic bonds holding it. But the strands of azure-colored magic held. The defenders had succeeded, and their yells of triumph broke into pandemonium as the realization there was no one left to fight slowly penetrated battle-hazed minds. In those precious moments of final victory, elves hugged trolls, humans and gargoyles, boundaries of race and class and station forgotten in an intense and tearfully overwhelming flood of joy. ~ ~ ~ Doing his best to cope with the ever-increasing flood of the wounded, Corvay was unable to help Scully. She lay still and quiet on the small pallet, her body going through the motions of maintaining life. Each time he passed, the little elf would reach out to touch her skin - still laced with static sparkles of Mage- energy. But warm and flushed as her flesh was, his psi-trained senses easily recognized the absence of that part of her that was most fundamentally *her*. Her mind - her soul - was lost, and he could not spare the time needed to attempt to bring her back, as long as she was apparently still alive. Perhaps she was better off wherever she was for now, he thought, his shoulders bent double under the weight of so much anguish and death. The cries of another injured soldier broke into his thoughts, and with one more saddened brush at the coppery hair of his apprentice - and friend - Corvay turned away to give the newcomer what little peace he could. Hours turned into days for the overburdened Healers. Sleeping in short shifts, they worked until their eyes were glazed, their skin ashen, their minds exhausted. Still, the stream of the wounded and injured continued to flow, everything from broken limbs to those so mangled that nothing more than a quick and merciful death could be offered. It was from delivering one of those death spells, his heart heavy with loss, that Corvay looked up to see Jourdain standing over him. "Captain," Corvay spoke wearily, accepting the supporting hand on his arm, however covered in blood. They were all doused in the vital fluid now, it had spilled over them all in a bright red waterfall, seeming to color the very air itself. "Healer," Jourdain found the words coming with unexpected bitterness. "It's over. We've won." "It's hardly begun," Corvay responded. Jourdain nodded, accepting the truth of the aged healer's words. The battle itself may have been done, but the results would be with them for a long time to come. He knew all too well that it had been only luck that had allowed him to escape with no more than bruises and gashes. He had seen far too many of his friends and comrades fall to their deaths. But now that the enemy was gone, he had energy left for only one thing. "Aldara," the name came through Jordain's lips in a breathless rush. Corvay didn't waste time speaking, simply lifted his hand and pointed towards the corner. Jourdain offered a simple thank you, then turned to weave his way through the tumult of the makeshift hospital. Finding Aldara still sleeping on a small mattress in the corner, he knelt down beside her and, engulfing her hand in his, watched her with tender eyes. Laying curled on her side on the blood-stained mattress, she looked small and fragile, her face half-hidden by a curtain of wavy black hair. Her damaged leg was stretched out awkwardly below her, her chest rising and falling in uneven sleep. Just as he reached out to stroke the hair back from her face, she cried out - "Nooo!" - her voice slurred and pitifully weak. She shook and twisted, hands moving to protect herself from an imagined, or perhaps remembered, horror. "Aldara," he soothed, trying to restrain her as gently as he could. "Aldara, love, it's me - Jourdain. You're safe now...safe..." Her eyes jolted open, then focused on the face hovering over her. A combination of relief and resumed pain made her sink back down into the mattress. Running her tongue over dry lips, she tried to speak. "Jourdain?" His name was a question mark. He finally managed a real smile. "It's over. We won." His smile dropped into a grimace as he remembered the cost of the victory. "It wasn't easy," he added. "But it is finished." "Thank the Goddess," she whispered hoarsely, trying to pull up into a sitting position. He restrained her with gentle hands. "Take it easy," he warned. Grasping onto his arms, she snuggled closer into his warmth, using him to support herself. The change on position jarred her leg, and twisting in her lover's embrace, she looked down at it for the first time. Wrapped in thick bandages, it was immobilized by a long wooden splint. Despite her effort, eyes squeezing shut in concentration, she couldn't feel anything below the knee, and what she felt above the knee was raw and searing pain. "My leg?" she gasped, angling her head to peer up into Jourdain's eyes. He tried to avoid giving her the answer she sought, but her gaze bore into him. "I don't know," he finally replied honestly. "Corvay and Scully did the best they could." At the pain and fear burgeoning in her expression, he added quickly. "But it doesn't matter. You are alive. That's what counts." "Alive, and a cripple!" she said, pushing him away. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, refusing to release her. "You don't know that," he insisted. "And even if it is so, it doesn't matter. Not to me." "You say that *now*. Besides, it matters to *me*!" she declared, tears stinging her eyes. "So you may have to use a cane, so what?" he protested. "So what? How can I do my job, how can I support myself? I'll be helpless." The tears began to flow more seriously. She'd always been totally independent, counting on her agility and fighting expertise to keep her safe and secure. The thought of losing that freedom terrified her. "One good leg, or two, you're still the best weapons trainer I've ever seen. Look how quickly you trained Scully. This won't dull your aim with a knife, or inhibit your ability on horseback, or affect your mind. You will be fine - and your leg may heal. Don't count yourself out either way." His voice turned softer as he continued. "But I was kind of hoping you'd consider doing something different." "Wh-what," she sniffled against his chest. She did know how good she was at teaching fighting skills, but the thought of being confined by infirmity made her feel weak and sick inside. "I...I was thinking about maybe..." he found himself stammering, the words escaping him. "Maybe?" she asked, a slight glimmer of what he meant slowly penetrating the confusion in her mind. "Jourdain?" she prodded, lifting her head to meet his eyes. "Well, that maybe you'd consider being a guard captain's wife?" He finished it in a rush, the words spilling into each other. A small smile warred with her tears, creeping up on her face, as she asked shyly. "And did you have any particular guard captain in mind for me to marry?" "Well, uhh, of course. I'd like you to marry me." He looked down into her tear-stained, almost smiling face, never more aware of its elven cast than he was at that moment. Could this fierce, lovely, half-elf woman really commit herself to a middle-aged human soldier like him? His breath caught in his throat as he waited for her answer. Aldara hesitated, her delight at the offer she had dreamed of for so long struggling with her fear. She refused to marry him if he was asking her out of pity or responsibility. Elven temper so easily aroused, she found herself shouting at him, "Don't you dare marry me because you feel sorry for me! Or because you think you have to, because I'm hurt. Cripple or not, I will not be anyone's burden!" She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but she remained stiff in his arms, holding to her challenge. "Aldara!" Jourdain shook his head, expressing his feelings had never been easy for him. He was better with a sword than with words, better at battle strategy than relationships. In fact he hadn't had a relationship since his wife died - until now. But coming so close to losing Aldara had convinced him of how precious she was. Yet, the hardest part seemed to finding the words to convince her. He looked into her emerald eyes for a moment as she waited tensely for an answer. "Aldara, I want to marry you because..because..." he stammered for a moment, then placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up even close to his. "Because I love you. Because I don't want to lose you. When I heard you had been injured, I felt like a part of me had died. Aldara, I know I'm no prize, I'm older, and set in my ways, but I need you." He stopped and gazed into her eyes, his craggy features caught in such an expression of unguarded vulnerability that she finally relented. "I'd like to marry you very much," she replied, her smile deepening even as he claimed her mouth in a joyful kiss. She wound her arms around him and returned his embrace with delight. In the midst of all the horror of the war, sometimes the simplest things were the best. The very best, indeed. After several long minutes of kisses and whispers, Aldara pushed Jourdain away and looked around her. "What is it?" he asked anxiously. "I wonder where Scully is?" she replied. Jourdain shrugged. "She must be around somewhere. Maybe she went out on the battlefield to help the wounded." "Yes," Aldara shivered at the thought of so much carnage. But then as she turned back to Jourdain she caught a glimpse of a still form on the neighboring pallet, red hair strewn across the mattress. "Jourdain, there!" Aldara cried, pointing over his shoulder. He pulled back onto his heels and angled his body around to look behind him. There, unnoticed before in his concern for Aldara, was the unconscious Scully, her skin waxen, her bright blue eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Realizing that Aldara was not going to accept remaining where she was, Jourdain swiftly scooped her up in his arms and carried her the few feet over to Scully's bed. He sat her down on the edge, cautious of her damaged leg. "I'll go find Corvay. He should know what happened." Aldara nodded, reaching out to gently stroke her unresponsive friend's cheek. Across the room, Corvay was delivering a rapid-fire set of instructions to a pair of brown-robed human Healers. Jourdain pushed up behind the small elf, towering over him like one of the stone columns at the entrance to the plains. Corvay felt the large, brooding presence at his back, but refused to acknowledge it until he was finished. As the other two Healers scurried away, Corvay straightened his back and pivoted to look up at Jourdain, bristling with impatient authority. "What is it now, Captain?" "Traveller Scully is hurt!" Jourdain pointed to where Aldara was bent over Scully's unconscious figure. "I know, I know." Corvay's tone dropped from brusque to sorrowed. He shook his head. "I've never dealt with the effects of being lifebonded to a Mage before - it's never happened before." "What happened?" Jourdain questioned intently. Corvay shook his head. "She was fine, doing a superb job, when suddenly she just collapsed. Her skin started glowing with Mage-energy, nearly creating a full-scale Mage-storm in here. We had to evacuate the cave for hours. I stayed with her, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even touch her. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended. She convulsed, then lay still. After a while, enough of the magic faded so that I could move her to the pallet in the corner and we were able to start using the cave again. I've checked on her every chance I get, but there's no change. I *think* she's with him, with Mulder, somehow. Perhaps he was handling too much power and it overflowed down the lifebond. I just don't know." Jourdain frowned, as much as respected and liked both Reinald and Mulder, he didn't like messing with Mage talents. The power was unpredictable at best, destructive at worst. "Isn't there anything you can do for her?" he asked, his deep voice roughened with worry and tension. "Perhaps, if I had time and strength to spare I could try to reach her mind. But that is a slow process, and requires my full attention." The deep-etched lines in Corvay's face dug a little deeper as he scowled. "For now, I have thousands in more dire need." As Jourdain opened his mouth to protest, Corvay waved his long-fingered hand in the air between them. "She is alive and resting comfortably. For all I know at present, that sleep could be exactly what she truly requires." At Jourdain's disbelieving look, the elf sighed. "I care about her, too, Captain. She is the finest apprentice I've ever had. And remarkably honorable for a human. I do not want to loose her, but there is little I can do right now. Perhaps a Mage like Reinald would have more understanding of what occurred." "Where is Reinald?" Jourdain glanced around the busy cavern as though expecting to see the blue-robed, white-crowned figure of the Royal magician suddenly appear in a puff of smoke. "For that matter," he continued, "Where in the Realm is Mulder?" "I don't know," Corvay replied. "I assumed they were busy with the battle. From what happened to Scully, they must have been handling immense amounts of Mage-energy." "Yes, " Jourdain concurred, his memory of the Vortex and the magestorm surrounding it all too frighteningly clear. "But that should have been over by now..." The tall, bulky human and the little elf suddenly stared at each other, the same shocked concern evident on their faces. "If Scully was hurt, then what might have happened to Mulder?" Jourdain felt his stomach sink. "Given that they are lifebonded...." Corvay frowned even more deeply. "We just don't know what to expect from a Mage's bond." As sudden commotion at the nearby Gate heralded a new influx of casualties, interrupting their conversation with the cries of the injured. Corvay took a deep breath and gave Jourdain a sorrowful look. "That's okay, Healer. Go on, I'll go find Mulder and Reinald." Jourdain said. "Good, good." Corvay replied absently, already brushing past the soldier towards the incoming wounded. ~ ~ ~ After forcing his way though four Gates and five crowded caverns, Jourdain finally reached the last Gate - the one that would lead him to the cliff-top Reinald and Mulder had used as a staging ground for their spell. Along the way, he had been hugged, pummeled, danced around in circles by hysterical soldiers of all races. The massive caverns echoed with the bizarre mixture of the groans of the injured and the jubilant cries of the victorious. Normally Jourdain would be the first to celebrate, chugging down tankards of the thick foamy ale that was flowing in rivers among the surviving soldiers, but not now. Jourdain heard the warning bells in his mind chime louder and louder as every person he asked denied seeing the two Mages since they had left to begin their spell. It was possible that he was simply missing them in the chaos, but an intuitive part of his mind kept insisting that something was wrong. Mulder would never leave his bondmate in such condition without being at her side, not unless he was in no condition to go to her himself. By the time Jourdain arrived at the final Gate, he was nearly running, his large size and obvious urgency forcing open a path through the celebration. Just as he was about to step through the Gate, two small gargoyles stepped into his path. Swearing violently as he nearly fell over them, Jourdain tried to push them out of his way. "You can't go up there!" One of them insisted, baring his teeth in anger at nearly being stepped on by the big human. "Get out of my way!" Jourdain rumbled, not in the mood to waste time arguing. "Mage Reinald left orders that no one was to go up there until he said it was safe!" The second gargoyle responded. That did make Jourdain slow down, as he knew full well that Reinald would not have given such instructions without good reason. But on the other hand, Jourdain's own instincts were screaming that something was seriously wrong up on the cliff, and that his friends needed his help. "Have you heard anything from either Mage Reinald or Mage Mulder since they first went up there?" he asked. "No...No" both gray-skinned gargoyles responded in unison, their ears begin to twitch nervously. "And no one else has gone up there to check on them?" Jourdain questioned. This time the two little creatures just shook their heads. "That's not right. I think they may be hurt." He swallowed and eyed the shimmering Gate nervously. In all of his rush to get here, he hadn't bothered to think about what he could run into up there. His back straightened with resolve. Whatever did happen, Mulder and Reinald were his friends. They needed his help; he was not going to let them down. "I'm going to check on them," he said with a confidence that was only on the surface. One of the gargoyles opened its mouth to protest, but Jourdain quelled it with a glare. Glancing at each other, and shrugging over the human soldier's foolhardiness, they sighed in unison and moved out of his way. Taking a deep breath, Jourdain stepped through the Gate... ...And arrived instantly on the dark wind-swept heights, the bitter cold of the air making him gasp in shock after the heavy humid warmth of the crowded caverns. Above him the moons glowed in the black night, surrounded by a field of diamond stars, so close he felt like he could reach out and touch them. Taking one careful step after another, Jourdain felt his way towards the cliff edge, getting as close as he dared to the precipitous drop down onto the shadowed plains below. His eyes focused intently at the place where solid earth gave way to empty air, Jourdain didn't see Reinald until his foot came up against a soft barrier on the ground. "Reinald!" Jourdain cried, dropping to his knees beside his obviously unconscious friend. As Jourdain touched the pulse in the Royal magician's neck, relieved to feel it throbbing at a slow, but steady rate, he finally saw Mulder laying a few feet beyond, sprawled like a rag doll on the weed-covered rocks. Forcing himself to leave Reinald for a moment, Jourdain went over to Mulder, again feeling some relief to find that he, too, was still alive. Kneeling between them, Jourdain considered his options, then stood up and raced for the Gate. Bursting through it, he grabbed the nearest two soldiers by the arms and propelled the startled men towards the Gate, shouting instructions to the watching gargoyles. "Get word to Healer Corvay that Mages Mulder and Reinald have been found unconscious, then get stretchers up here immediately. Move it!!!!" In mere moments - though it seemed like a lifetime to Jourdain - the two Mages were being carried through the Gate and down towards the Healing caverns, only the slightest rise and fall of their chests indicating that they were still alive. Sitting her quiet vigil by Scully's side, Aldara simply shook her head at Jourdain as he hurried over to her. There was no change. Jourdain frowned, then inclined his head towards the stretchers being carried over by two dusty green-clad soldiers and two brown-robed elven healers. "Oh no," Aldara breathed in sharply as she instantly understood. Attempting, and failing to stand up, she swore briefly as she remembered her leg. "They're alive," Jourdain told her as he drew her up against him, letting her use him as a crutch, knowing full well that she knew who the bodies were. "Like Scully, their minds seem to be gone, but they are breathing and have steady heartbeats." "Thank the Goddess for that," Aldara replied, willing leaning into his strength. "But what happened?" They both watched as Mulder was lowered onto the pallet that had been Aldara's, Reinald onto the next one over. "I don't know," Jourdain replied. "It could just be that the spell to create the vortex exhausted them, and once they've recovered their strength they will wake up." His voice was full of doubt. "But that doesn't explain what happened to Scully?" Aldara protested. "She's lifebonded to Mulder." Jourdain attempted to explain. "Corvay thinks that maybe the Mage-energies Mulder was trying to control were too strong, and they flowed down the bond-link to Scully. He says she lit up with Mage power like the castle grounds at summer festival just before she collapsed. No one's ever been lifebonded to a Mage before, especially not such a powerful one, so we don't know the effect it could have." "Do you think they will be all right?" Aldara asked, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. Jourdain shook his head sadly, tightening his arms around her. "I hope so...I don't know," he answered honestly. - - - - - //Dana Scully laughed into the wind, running barefoot in the sand, the brilliant blue of the endless ocean beckoning her onward. Chasing her, Fox Mulder grinned with delight as he caught her around the waist, tipping them both into the white- foamed surf. Twisting in his arms as they fell, Dana wrapped her arms around the satin-sheathed steel of his shoulders, pulling him onto her even as she hit the water with a splash. Mulder released her waist just long enough to support himself a tantalizing inch above her body, his hands pressing into the swirling sand, grinning down into her bright face as she laughed warmly up at him. "Come here," she demanded, using both her arms and legs to draw him closer. Echoing her laughter, he complied, their sounds of their joy turning from open laughter to moans of pleasure as they made love on water's edge, the tide washing slowly up and down over their entwined bodies.\\ - - - - - Hours had passed with no change. Jourdain and Aldara sat a lonely vigil by the three bedsides, waiting and watching for any sign of returning awareness. Mages Gera and Flordan had visited briefly, both barely able to stand in their own exhaustion. Aldara had looked to them for answers, but both blue robed magicians had simply shook their heads. Corvay buzzed by as often as he could, the demands on him and the other healers seemingly endless. All he could suggest for now was to let them sleep. "You should try to sleep," Jourdain suggested as he watched Aldara's eyes droop, then shoot open as she tried to keep herself awake. "No!" she protested. Then turning to look into his bloodshot eyes, she suggested that he get some rest. "I'll watch them for a while." "No, "I'll sit watch. You need to get some sleep. You are hurt too," he insisted. Just as she was about to start arguing with him, a small sparkle of her former vivacity awakening in her emerald eyes, the sound of a groan from one of the beds caught her attention. "Jourdain!" She cried, grabbing his arm and pointing towards Reinald who was beginning to shake and twist on his bed. Not wasting a moment, Jourdain picked Aldara up in his arms and moved around Mulder's bed to set her on the edge of Reinald's pallet. "Reinald?" the dark-haired half-elf called out, surprising herself with the depth of affection she felt for the white-haired mage. Before she had met Scully and Mulder, she had both hated and feared magicians, even the friendly and honorable Reinald. But now that had changed. She had begun to see them as individuals, the use of their power an extension of their natures. Reinald and Mulder were trustworthy because they were good people. Her father and siblings had been vain and selfish - so the use of their power had simply reflected who they were. That didn't diminish the horror that an evil person with the talent could cause, but she could begin to like and respect the ones who were honest and fair, who tried to use their gifts for good purpose. Reinald shifted in his sleep, crying aloud. "Mulder..." "Shhh," Aldara replied, reaching out to stroke his brow. "Reinald, can you hear me?" Behind her Jourdain stood silent and tense, worry and hope warring on his grizzled features. Reinald muttered unintelligibly for a moment, then silenced as his eyelids flickered open. Blinking rapidly as he tried to focus blurry eyes, he whispered, "Aldara?" "Yes, yes!" She urged, leaning back to share a grin of relief with Jourdain. "And Jourdain. How do you feel?" "Like I was hit by a lightning bolt," Reinald replied, rubbing his face with trembling hands. "Do you remember what happened?" Jourdain questioned gently. "I'm not sure..." Reinald stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I remember beginning the vortex spell." He shivered. "It was so strong. It kept trying to break free of our control. I started to get tired, I kept slipping under. I called out for Mulder, but he couldn't respond. Then I...I lost awareness. Everything went black." He shook his head, "I failed," he said, voice deep with grief. "I failed." "NO!" Jourdain corrected loudly. "You didn't fail. We won! The vortex stabilized and we drove the Dark forces into it. The battle is over and the Realm is safe." Reinald looked up at him, disbelief struggling with hope. "Won? Stabilized? But how?" "We assumed you and Mulder did it - at least the part of controlling the vortex," Jourdain answered. "It broke free for a while, then suddenly drew back, as though someone or something was containing it. It was like it was caught in a trap, unable to break free. Once it stopped moving, we were able to take control of the war, the Dark army was split and demoralized. It took almost a whole day and night, but it's over now." "Thank the Gods," Reinald closed his eyes, feeling relief wash over him in waves. At long last it was over, and they were safe. But after a moment of enjoying the victory, the questions returned with a vengeance. "I still don't understand how the vortex was restrained. When I collapsed we were losing it, I can't believe Mulder held on his own." "He wasn't on his own," Aldara broke in, sudden comprehension lighting her thin, oval face. "Scully helped him!" "What?" Reinald sat up abruptly, his voice breaking into a cry as pain thudded through his temples. "Easy, easy," Aldara insisted, pressing him back down onto the mattress. Reinald hardly struggled, the fire lancing through his head convincing him to lay as still as possible. "Corvay says that Scully was working down here when she suddenly fell down and started to glow with mage-energy," Jourdain explained. "Apparently she caused quite a Mage-storm down here. After a while, though, it ended and she just simply collapsed. She hasn't woken since. You and Mulder were both the same way when I found you. So far you're the only who has woken up." "I knew she had some slight mage ability, but it was hardly enough for simple spells, much less something of this nature. I know she and Mulder are life-bonded, but even so..." Reinald shook his head. "I just don't know." "Will Mulder and Scully be all right?" Aldara asked worriedly, glancing behind her at their motionless, recumbent figures. "I...I THINK so," Reinald replied. "They should wake up once they've recovered their strength. At least that's the way it usually is for mages who have overtaxed their powers." Both Aldara and Jourdain caught the uncertainty in his tone. "But..." Aldara prodded. "It depends on how much they over-used their life- energies. And we're dealing with the unknown of their life-bond. It could help them," Reinald sighed, glancing from Aldara's pale features to Jourdain's weary face. "It could also hurt them - if one dies the other could easily follow." - - - - - //Hands laced behind his head, Fox Mulder watched the cottony whisps of clouds floating in the deep blue of the sky. A gentle breeze played with the tendrils of his dark hair, splaying them across his temples as he rested in the warmth of the sun. Curled against his side, her head pillowed in the hollow of his shoulder, Dana Scully closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air was fragrant and pure, a mixture of grass and earth, strawberries and pine, tinged by the unique masculine sent of the man resting beneath her. Her hand gently stroked the velvet of his skin, exposed by the half-unbuttoned white shirt, the tips of her fingers red and sticky with the juice of strawberries. A small pile of the fresh-picked berries lay beside them, cradled in a fold of the blanket on which they lay. Mulder closed his hand on hers, pressing it against the center of his chest, then lifting it up to his mouth. Slowly he licked at one sweet, flavored fingertip after another until Dana moved to pull herself up along his length, framing both their faces together in the shelter of her auburn hair which cascaded down around them a bright red waterfall, glowing in the midday sun. Hazel eyes danced under lazy eyelids as a slow smile teased the edges of his mouth. Eyes bluer than the sky above glittered in response, her breath hot against his cheek. Seductively, she began to actively trace his lips, slowly dipping deeper into his mouth, while his tongue reached out to wrap around her fingertips, catching at them with the edges of his teeth. Then his hand released hers and swept around to caress the bare skin of her back above the silk edge of her flowery dress. A soft sigh of utter contentment escaped her lips as she bent down inch by inch to finally cover his mouth with hers.\\ - - - - - Sipping at the hot tea, Reinald studied the sleeping Travellers with still-weary eyes. The flood of the wounded had slowed to a trickle, many of the healers getting their first chance in several days to sleep. Now it was the priests who were busy, gathering up the dead and committing them to the care of the gods. Too, too many dead, he thought sadly. And far too many still hovering on the edge. "Any change?" Jourdain whispered. "No," Reinald turned to look up at his friend. "If it was simple exhaustion, they should have woken up by now." He glanced back at the man and woman laying on the bed, the slow rise and fall of their chests the only remaining sign of life. Even when they had been moved from the Healing cave back to their original quarters, neither had showed any sign of awakening. "I'm afraid they are lost somewhere." Reinald shook his head. "All that power echoing down a life-bond. I have no way to know the consequences." Jourdain frowned, a newly etched gash showing in sharp relief against his cheekbone. He was tired of hearing how little anyone knew about the combination of a life- bond and mage talent. What he wanted was an answer, or at least some suggestion of a course of action. "Can't one of the Healers reach them, or another mage? If they are caught in some backlash of the spell, can't you undo it?" Jourdain questioned. "It's not that simple." Reinald took another deep gulp of the stimulating tea, grateful for the warm rush it caused in his belly. "Without knowledge of the cause - or the details of the magic binding them - it would be like looking for one grain of wheat in a field." His face brightened slightly. "However, a Healer may be able to get to them in a way a magician couldn't. Corvay is planning to try as soon as he has a chance to recover his strength." Jourdain nodded, relieved, but not surprised. The irascible elven Healer obviously had a soft spot for Scully, he had hovered over her at every opportunity. "Well, if anyone can reach them, it will be Corvay." Agreement flickered in Reinald's tired eyes, then he gazed down at the 'sleeping' couple. After a moment, during which Jourdain stood quietly at the end of the bed, the thin, white-haired mage spoke in nearly a whisper. "I just wonder if they are not happier wherever they are." - - - - - //Mulder handed Scully the wine glass, their fingers brushing as she took it from him, looking over the rim at him with a hint of a smile. He picked up his own glass and held it up between them, letting the firelight flicker through the amber liquid. Meeting each other's eyes, they clinked the glasses and drank the clear, dry wine in appreciative silence, no spoken words necessary to communicate the toast. The same thought - the same feeling - reverberated between their minds. "To you, my love," his mindvoice had caressed her soul. "To us, my darling forever," hers had whispered back, warming his heart. Resting her head into the hollow of his shoulder, the place that seemed made to hold it, she set the wine glass aside. He took one more swallow, feeling his throat cool as the dry alcoholic fluid evaporated as it went down. Then placing his glass on the floor beside him, he tightened his arm around her shoulders, fingering the silken gloriously bright strands of her hair. Sinking down onto the cushions in front of a roaring fire, they held each other in utter joy and serenity. "Mulder...." the faintest whisper of a voice brushed against the edge of his mind. He stirred slightly, ears perking to listen even as he tried to dismiss it. But it came again, a little louder, disturbing the edges of his awareness. It brought a rush of feelings, disquiet and fear, rage and sorrow. There was something he had forgotten, something.... Something he didn't WANT to remember. "No," he hadn't realized he said it aloud until Dana stirred in his arms, her face full of sleepy contentment. "Fox..." she murmured, gazing up at him, her face alight with such beauty that he lost all other thoughts except his love for her. Giving her a glowing smile, he bent to kiss her, drinking in the sweet taste of her mouth. Dana felt her breath catch in her throat as his mouth claimed hers, reaching out to pull him even closer. Just as his arms tightened around her, a voice began to whisper in her ear, "Dana...Dana..." She tried to ignore it, to lose herself in the ecstasy of her lover's embrace, but the voice refused to silence. Instead it grew louder, ringing in her ears until she was forced to pulled away from Mulder, grabbing at her ears. "Dana, what is it?" He reached out to hold her, the joy on his face slowly darkening into concern. Just as his hands closed around her shoulders, he too heard the voice again, insistently shouting their names over and over. "NO!" they cried in unison, as the warm safety of the room around them began to fade. Fear curling through them, they clung to each other as they found themselves adrift in a deep, black night, strands of blue fire wrapping its way around them as they tumbled through the void. A kaleidoscope of images, sounds, voices flashed by them, teasing them with half-forgotten memories that were gone as soon as they reached out to hold them. A saddened woman with deep black eyes and curly black hair stretched out her hand to them, changing in an instant to a beautiful girl-child with hazel eyes and waist-length black hair. Then it was a younger woman with bright auburn hair and a crystal glittering at her throat, followed by a man dressed in a long blue cloak with a shock of white hair. "Mulder...Scully...Fox...Dana..." Their names echoed in their ears in a thousand different voices, some pleading and sorrowed, some loving and welcoming, some angry and sneering. Yellow eyes blazed as an unnaturally-elongated arm stretched out towards them. Recoiling, they turned to see a hundred mirrored reflections of a woman with hazel eyes and long wavy brown hair, dressed in a brown suit. Turning yet again, they faced an older man, with contemptuous eyes, half-obscured by smoke. One visage after another spun past, blending and mixing into a nightmarish assembly of friends lost and enemies gained, sorrows forgotten, and horrors remembered. Clinging to each other, their screams echoed and were lost in the darkness that threatened to close in around them. But just as they found themselves sinking even deeper into the void below, a single commanding voice chimed in their ears. "Come!" it demanded. "Return," it insisted. "Follow me..." it urged. One arm still wrapped in a death grip around Scully, Mulder reached out to the silvery, blue-tinged strand that quivered with the sound of the voice. Somehow able to close his fist around the pulsing fiber, he held to it tightly, letting it pull them both upwards. Once the motion began, they flew along the vibrating strand with increasing speed, Scully releasing one of her hands from Mulder's shoulder to grasp onto it, stabilizing them both. Confused, exhausted, frightened, they followed the ever-guiding voice meekly, letting it take them where it willed. Upwards they spiraled, darkness giving way to a nearly blinding light. Just at the edge of the glowing incandescent source, they paused to stare deeply into each other's eyes. Both felt the desire to slide back into the darkness they had left, into the serenity of world they had created for themselves in the apex of their love, warring with the call to return to the worlds they had left behind. It would be so easy to stay lost together, sheltered in their private world. To forget the pain and sorrow of their past lives. However, before they could allow themselves to slip backwards, two of the voices sounded again: "Fox, don't leave me..." a child's voice sobbed. "Dana, come home..." a woman's voice cried. Hesitating, they hovered for a moment, then accepted the decision echoed in each other's eyes. In silent communion, they slid apart until they were linked only by clasped hands and dove together into the center of the light.\\ - - - - - Gasping for breath, Corvay let go of Mulder and Scully's hands and collapsed backwards into Reinald's waiting arms. Not needing to be asked, Jourdain rushed over to help the mage carry the Healer into a waiting chair. Letting the big soldier support the small, barely conscious elf, Reinald reached for a cup of the restorative potion and pressed it up against Corvay's whitened lips. "Drink this," he urged, ignoring the elf's attempts to push him away. Finally Corvay gave in, taking first a small sip of the warm, sweet liquid and then a larger gulp. "Are you all right?" Reinald asked. "I...yes, I'll be fine." Corvay spoke in a rough whisper as even his pointed ears seemed to droop. "What happened," Jourdain questioned urgently. "Did you..." "Just need to rest..." Corvay interrupted, closing his eyes and slumping down into the chair, slipping instantly into sleep. Jourdain and Reinald exchanged worried glances, Corvay had spent nearly two hours in the trance, leaning over the unmoving, unresponsive Travellers. If he hadn't succeeded in reaching them, then... "Mmmmaaagh," came a muffled groan from the direction of the bed. Reinald nearly dropped the cup as he and Jourdain rushed over to the bed. Mulder was rubbing his eyes with the back of one arm, his body shivering as the muscles began to awaken. Beside him, Scully twisted and yawned, her eyelids blinking rapidly. "Mulder! Scully!" Reinald cried, reaching out to shake Mulder's shoulder in an explosion of joyous relief. "Wwwhat?" Mulder groaned aloud, his eyes slowly opening to focus on the face hovering over him. "Reinald?" he questioned. "Yes, yes!" the white-haired mage shouted gleefully. Both Mulder and Scully cringed in response, Scully pressing her hands against her throbbing head. "Ooooh," was the best she could get out. Mulder eyed her, then the delighted faces of Reinald and Jourdain peering down at them, and sank back down into the bed, giving them such a woebegone, sick-puppydog look that, nearly giddy with relief, Jourdain and Reinald both broke out laughing. End of Chapter 15 Chapter Sixteen It had taken nearly a fortnight to clean up the battlefield and set the slow process of recovery in motion. After the Vortex was closed by the still-exhausted Mages Reinald and Mulder, the Uriin plains became one massive funeral pyre. Each race, each religion, each great House held its own sorrowful ceremony, releasing the souls of their dead from their mortal remains in huge blazing bonfires. For days the fires burned, throwing sparks and ashes up into the sky, visible for nearly a full-day's ride away. The smell of burning flesh and incense filled the air, painful and cleansing at once, washing away the stench of the Dark. Villages were reclaimed, fragmented lives resumed, late harvests begun. The surviving leaders of the various Houses and races made their solemn way back to Fairwood Keep, their entourages barely a ghost of the flashy colorful displays that had first accompanied them there for Reinald's trial so many long weeks before. And yet, underneath the somber colors, the mood was brighter, the steps lighter than they had been before. A shadow had been lifted from the Realm, and despite their many sorrows, the people felt the first stirrings of hope for the future. As if in benediction, the sun broke through the clouds and shone in full glory upon the heads of the returning soldiers as they marched through the Fairwood castle gates. Mulder and Scully were grateful to settle back into their comfortable room with the big fireplace and large soft bed after so many nights spent sleeping in tents or caves. The most pleasant sight of all was the big tub, filled and waiting for them when they arrived dusty and tired from the long march. Lita straightened from pouring in another freshly heated bucket of water into the tub and turned to them with a glowing smile. "Welcome home Mage Mulder, Lady Scully." "Thank you, Lita," Mulder replied, draping his robe over the back of one of the chairs in front of the blazing fire. He dropped into it with a sigh of pleasure. Scully simply walked over and gave the little elf a big hug, delighted to see her. Lita returned the embrace, then pulled away, saying brusquely, "Your bath is ready. I'll return later with dinner and empty it then." However, her eyes were bright as she bustled from the room. Scully went over behind Mulder and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He leaned back into her embrace, reaching out to draw her closer. She played with the dark locks of his hair for a moment, then dropped a kiss on the top of his head and withdrew towards the steaming tub. "Don't know about you, but I'm not losing a second before taking a bath." She sighed, yanking her tunic over her head. "I can hardly remember the last time I felt clean." "Ummm, I'll join you in a minute," Mulder replied, staring absently into the fire as it leapt and crackled in the huge brick hearth. Sensitive to the darkening of his mood, Scully stopped after removing her leggings and stared at the back of his head. "Mulder?" she asked, coming around in front of him, dressed only in the long white shirt with tails that nearly touched her knees. "What's wrong?" "Nothing, Scully." He stretched, yawning loudly. "I'm just tired." She continued to gaze down at him, hands unconsciously closing on her hips in a stance that he immediately recognized. "Scully," he insisted, eyes deepening to a dusky brown. "I'm fine, it's just been a long day." "Uh huh," she replied, her face drawn and serious. "Mulder..." she sat down across his knees so that she could look straight into his eyes. His arms closed around her almost of their own accord, instinctively drawing her into his embrace. "Mulder, I don't want to go prying into your mind. If you don't feel like talking about whatever is bothering you, then I can wait until you're ready, but..." "No, no, Scully," he interrupted. "It's okay. I just felt a little, well, funny when Lita said 'welcome home.' We've been here for so long now, that this does feel like our 'home' sometimes, and yet I'm also well aware that we don't really belong here. I couldn't help wondering what was happening back in our world." Scully nodded, reaching out to tenderly brush a wayward lock of hair out of his eyes. "I know," she said sadly, "Sometimes I worry about my mother. After everything she's been through, to have me just disappear again like this - and you as well. I wish there was a way to let her know that we are safe and well." "Me, too." Mulder responded. "You're lucky to have a family like yours. They're good people," he managed a teasing grin, "even if your sister is a bit weird." Scully laughed. "You're hardly one to talk about being 'weird,' 'Spooky.'" "Touché, Scully," Mulder said. Then his face fell. "My parents won't even notice I'm gone." "I'm sure..." Scully started automatically, then paused. She'd never met his parents, but she'd picked up enough during their years of partnership, and through the growing mind-link, to have a pretty good picture of his family, especially after sharing his nightmares. Mulder caught the edges of the hurtful images going through Scully's mind, and he grimaced in response. "The only person in my family who really cared about me has been gone much longer than I have." His voice was deep with sorrow. "Samantha." Scully whispered softly, feeling the knife edge of pain strike deeply into her own heart as it plunged through his. "Samantha," he echoed, and suddenly it was though the shadowy figure of a slender eight year-old girl with a waterfall of black hair and dark hazel eyes was standing beside them. Mulder and Scully were both silent for a moment, then Mulder spoke the thought in both their minds. "If I stay here, I'll never have a chance to find her." "I know, sweetheart," Scully said, trying to project as much love and reassurance to him as she could. "And as much as I've come to love the people here, I want to go home too. But the Vortex is dangerous. It nearly killed you and Reinald..." "And you," Mulder interjected, unable to avoid a pang of guilt. Scully gave him a fierce look, not even bothering to tell him aloud to stop the guilt. He sensed her thought and nodded, his eyes apologizing for him. Scully smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips with hers, brushing his mind with love and reassurance. Then she sat back and picked up their discussion where it had left off. "At least here we have friends and what could be a good future. With the Dark Army gone, the Realm will be a peaceful and pleasant place to live. If we make a mistake with the Vortex, we could end up anywhere, including the place those walking nightmares came from." Mulder sighed. "I know. We can't even be sure of where it was we sent the monsters. God, I hope it wasn't to our world." "I doubt it," Scully said. "I don't think they'd fit all too well into Neumann's lab." Mulder grinned. "No, probably not. Still, we don't know where they ended up, and I certainly wouldn't want to be there with them." He paused for a moment, his brow crinkling in concentration. "Nonetheless, Reinald did manage to bring Tarnor and us through properly, and he and I were almost able to control a much larger vortex than the one we fell through. Manipulating a smaller one ought to be feasible, especially if we work together." "Mulder..." Scully felt a whirlpool of emotion flood her. If only they COULD make it home. But what if they instead ended up in a far worse place - or dead? And it would be very hard to say goodbye to their friends in the Realm. She had never had very many close female friends, and she knew that she would miss Aldara terribly, as well as Jourdain, Tarnor, Reinald, and Andalor... Her heart warmed at how many wonderful people they had befriended here. Still, it would be so wonderful to see her family again. "We don't have to make a decision tonight," Mulder suggested as with his emotions in a turmoil, he felt her uncertainty augmenting his own. "We're both exhausted, hungry, and very dirty. How about we take that bath, eat dinner, and sleep on it." Scully smiled. Maybe some of her rationality was finally rubbing off on her impulsive imaginative lover. It was definitely about time. Standing up she took his hand and led him over to the still-waiting tub of steaming water. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Two full days were spent in preparation for the victory celebration. The castle was filled to bursting with people, most running here and there on one errand after another. The courtyards were covered with brightly colored tents, the stables crammed with horses and other livestock. The gargoyles took possession of the dungeons, the elves spread out into the nearby woods. The Great Hall was stripped and scrubbed from floor to ceiling, the massive tapestries washed by long rows of women, voices raised in melodic song as they worked. The castle kitchens were like a furnace, all of the ovens working at once. The surviving villages all contributed food and grain, wine and meat, and a surfeit of expert cooks. When Aldara's security forces weren't breaking up brawls and drunken pranks, caused by huge quantities of rich, intoxicating ale that was flowing out of barrels and down thirsting throats, they were busy separating would-be chefs flailing at each other with iron pots, arguing over whose recipe for soup or stew was the best. Nonetheless, most of the fighting was done in a good-hearted manner, and even the Dordinal rowdies were in pleasant moods. The shadow was gone, and the sunshine streamed down on Fairwood Keep in bright and glorious streams of warmth. Despite the almost-exasperating amount of cavorting and merry-making, the castle staff still managed to get the job done in record time. The cleansed tapestries were re-hung on gleaming stone walls, rows of high-backed, satin-cushioned chairs were set up along each of the long walls. The throne-chair was carried down out of the storeroom by four large trolls, set up on a small platform at one end of the hall, and endlessly fussed over by half-a-dozen castle staff under the direction of the castle steward - who seemed about ready to tear his hair out by the end of the second day. Nonetheless, the castle was fully prepared by nightfall prior to the day of celebration. Every square inch of the castle and its grounds had been scrubbed clean, with only one exception. "Get out!" Reinald stormed at the pair of elves scrubbing at the chalk marks on the floor of his workroom. Both squealed in fright, one dropping her brush as she attempted to scramble to her feet. But the floor was wet and she slid down to land on her little round bottom on the floor, brightly-shod feet knocking over a bucket of soapy water, red-ribboned yellow braids flying. "Now look at what you've done! I *told* that idiot steward Rurvic to leave my room alone!" the infuriated magician raged. The carefully designed spell diagram on his floor was completely ruined. It had taken him hours to plan it out, and now he'd have to start from scratch. Even the most carefully-shielded mages can lose their tempers, and the air in the room began to grow heavy with moisture as Reinald moved to stand glaring fiercely down at the utterly terrified - and soaked - young servants. The one who had fallen stared up at the blue-robed man glowering over her like a terrified rabbit, the other cowered and sobbed beside her. Just as Reinald reached out to yank the yellow-haired one to her feet, an amused voice sounded from the doorway, "What's this? Terrorizing the staff?" Reinald turned to direct his glare at Mulder who was indolently leaning against the heavy oak doors, his arms crossed across his chest, ever so slowly shaking his head. "These fools ruined my spell - it was brand-new and I didn't even have the chance to write it down on parchment yet. Candlemarks of work lost." Reinald was still blazing angry, though his friend's good humor was slowly breaking through to him. "Well, I doubt it's their fault," Mulder said gesturing to the frightened elves. "You know how busy everyone is. Someone just forgot to tell them to skip your room. Look, I got a good look at the diagram before she knocked the bucket over. I can do the basics, and you can fix the little bit the they had erased." Mulder grimaced. "I could use the escape from out there. Someone just tried to clean *me*, clothes and all." The comical look of annoyed disbelief on the other Mage's face was too much for the usually even-tempered Reinald and he started to chuckle. Mulder grinned, then didn't waste a second hustling the two elven servants from the room. As he was closing the door behind them he told them to pass the word to leave the Royal Magician's quarters alone. Both quite certain they had only barely escaped some horrible fate, they bobbed their heads and scurried away, brushes and pails in hand. "You gave those two quite a scare," Mulder noted. "I know," Reinald frowned. "But sometimes it's the only way to get some privacy around here, especially when Rurvic is on one of his cleaning binges. The last time I let him get his people in here, they decided to polish and wax the Oracle Cloud. It took a week to get the stuff off of it!" "I can imagine!" Mulder said. "They corralled me this morning to levitate a couple of gargoyles so they could scrub the kitchen ceiling. Apparently a pair of cooks got into a fight over which spice to use in a stew, and one threw the pot of boiling stew all over the room, including the ceiling!" Reinald shook his head and lowered himself into his chair, reaching automatically for the teapot. "I understand the need for a proper victory ceremony, but I wish I could just disappear for a few days before and after it." Pouring the tea into two mugs, he handed one out to Mulder who accepted it gratefully, perching himself on the edge of a small table. "Yeah. I don't know whether to offer to help, or just try to disappear. Scully is busy with Corvay trying to heal the recovering soldiers. I feel almost useless." "I'm sure she relies on you heavily," Reinald said reassuringly, focusing sharp gray eyes on his friend. "But something else is bothering you, isn't it?" Mulder nodded solemnly, then hesitated. "Reinald, I...uh, Scully and I... I know this is a bad time, but we've been thinking..." "You want to go home," Reinald finished for him, his expression saddened, but not surprised. "Yes," Mulder took a deep swallow of the tea, then met the other man's eyes directly. "We both have families. Well, Scully has a family, and I have a sister who...needs me. We've talked about it - about nothing else - for a couple days and while we both know how risky the Vortex is, we both feel we have to at least try." "There's no guarantee we can get you to the right place," Reinald warned. "You could end up somewhere dangerous. And that's even assuming you live through it again." "I know, I know," Mulder replied, setting down his tea and leaping up to prowl the room. "But this, the Realm, it isn't our home. We don't belong here." "You could belong here," Reinald offered. "You have both done us a great favor at risk to your own lives. I promise you we will repay you well, if you choose to stay. I've been thinking of retiring as Royal Mage, Mulder. I'm getting old, and tired of the politics. You could take the position. Andalor trusts and admires you. You would have a home here for as long as you wanted. Or if you wanted to settle in a quieter place, there are hundreds of villages that would compete for you to be their town Mage. And Scully will always be needed, and welcomed, as a healer anywhere in the Realm." Mulder paused in his pacing and turned with a warm smile. "I'm glad we were able to help and we very much appreciate all the kindness you have shown us. Believe me, we've thought seriously about staying. We've made good friends here, some we would rather not leave behind." His face settle into a serious expression. "But we have to try to go home. We both have unfinished business there, as well as people who are depending on us." "I understand," Reinald responded. "and I'll do my best to help. But I would ask that you keep this between us until after tomorrow's ceremony. There will be enough intrigue going on as is. Andalor is young, and there are still factions of the nobles that would like to see him - and me - replaced. It is vital that everything goes smoothly. Afterwards, we can tell the Prince privately and then begin to make plans." Mulder nodded agreement. "We certainly don't want to spoil the party. Afterwards is soon enough to tell people, and we'd rather not make a big production of this anyway. If we can slip away quietly after saying private goodbyes to our friends, that would be best." "Good." Reinald said, though he didn't feel happy about any of it. He was suddenly realizing just how much he'd come to like and rely upon this unusual young talent and his extraordinary life-bondmate. He knew he'd miss them terribly, however, he also understood their desire to return to their interrupted lives. "Come, come," he said briskly, masking his emotions. "We'd better get started fixing this mess." Both men turned to stare down at the smeared, watery mess on the floor and sighed. ~ ~ ~ The day of the Victory celebration dawned bright and warm, the sun rising in a clear blue sky. In the absence of the Dark shadow, the Realm had returned to its normal summer weather, hot days and cool nights, lush greenery and a slightly tropical humidity in the air. Curled up against Mulder, her head pillowed on his chest, Scully stirred and yawned, her breath brushing against his skin. He shifted in his sleep, his arms still tight around her. Trying to disentangle herself without disrupting him, she managed to reach a sitting position, gazing drowsily out between the bed curtains just as Lita came into the room. The little elf was dressed in bright red and green dress, her dark hair bound up in tiny, but elaborately swirling braids. Behind her came two more elven servants, both mirror images of Lita, the same decorative clothes and fancy hairstyles, their pointed ears framed in heavy black braids. All three were carrying clothes, Lita's arms filled with a bundle of shimmering blue and white silk, a small corner of black leather peeking out over her elbow. Between them, the other two were carrying a heavy load of emerald green velvet with gold fibers woven through the edges. Sitting up in bed, Scully gave them a friendly smile, clutching the heavy brocade coverlet up against her breasts, her auburn hair cascading down over her milky-white shoulders. "Are those for us?" she asked, unable to hide her excitement at the sight of the dress the two elven maidens were laying over the back of one of the chairs. Practical as she might be, Dana Scully still had weakness for beautiful clothes and she had been concerned about what she was supposed to be wearing to the ceremony. All attempts to question Lita on the subject over the last couple of days had been met with a mysterious smile and instructions to leave it to the elf. To Scully's eye, it appeared that Lita had outdone herself. Lita smiled broadly as Scully bounded from the bed, wrapping her robe around her shoulders. At the sound of giggles from the other two elves, Lita admonished them fiercely, setting them to work preparing the water for the tub. Once they were busy stoking the fire and setting iron buckets of water into the hearth, still exchanging grins and giggles, Lita relaxed and drew Scully over to show her the dress. "I made it myself," Lita said proudly. "The velvet is from my home village, and the embroidery is pure silk." The tiny woman's face beamed with delight as Scully fingered the soft fabric, exclaiming at its beauty. "It's stunning!" Scully brushed a tear out of the edge of her eyes. "Thank you so much. I just hope I can do it justice." "I have no doubt that you will," Mulder surprised her, placing his hands on her shoulder and leaning down to kiss the burnished top of her head. "No one will be able to hold a candle to your beauty," he complimented romantically, stirring a fresh round of giggles from the elves. Lita silenced them with a frown, then whisked them out of the room. "Be quiet, and go get Mage Mulder and Lady Scully their breakfast." Bobbing and grinning, they scurried from the room. Lita sighed dramatically. "My nieces are still very young, I'm afraid." Wrapped in each other's arms, Mulder and Scully both smiled in amusement. After enjoying a quick bath together, they downed a breakfast of fruit and fresh bread, supplemented by the stimulating tea. Then gathering up the clothes Lita had brought for him, Mulder shut himself into the small bathroom, leaving Lita and Scully to go on with a detailed discussion of hair styles. His one comment, that he didn't understand why she didn't just leave her hair down, netted him such a pair of outraged glares that he decided that absenting himself from the proceedings was the safest course of action. He easily donned the black pants, white shirt, and long embroidered blue tunic. Cinching the heavy silver belt around his waist, he had to admit some satisfaction with the result. The clothes fit as they had been made for him, which they almost certainly had, and the deep blue suited his dark coloring and tanned skin well. He spun in front of the mirror once, then grinned unabashedly at his reflection. Not bad, but he'd still be better off leaving the fussing to the women. Lita was vigorously combing Scully's hair, the two chatting away easily, as he stepped out of the bathroom. Lita smiled appreciatively at him, then buried her attention into preparing Scully's auburn tresses, while Scully just stared at him. Seeing Scully's blue eyes widen at the sight of him, he automatically began to check himself. He hadn't thought he'd put anything on wrong, it wasn't that much different from their usual outfits. He'd actually thought he looked rather all right. "Is something wrong?" he asked plaintively, earning a snort of amusement from Lita. Scully recovered her composure and gave him a look of pure appreciation. "No. You look wonderful!" Better than wonderful, she thought. The tunic graced his lean figure perfectly, highlighting the broadness of his shoulder and his height, the blue color contrasting with the darkness of his hair and gleaming hazel of his eyes. She liked the slighter longer length of his hair, the way the bangs draped across his temples, the bottom strands curled against his neck. He looked both handsome and distinguished - and very sexy in an inutterably masculine way. "Oh, thanks," he replied with relief. "I thought that I'd go catch up with Reinald for a while you get ready." "That's a good idea," she said, her lips curling upwards in a smile. "Better give us a couple candlemarks at least." "Women." he said, shaking his head as he escaped out the door, only just missing being hit in the back by her towel. The period of banishment had been worth it, Mulder decided as Lita finally allowed him to re-enter his room. Scully was standing by the edge of the bed, and the sight of her stole his breath away. Her hair was gathered up into a loose pile of brilliant curls on the top of her head, interwoven with gold strands that mirrored the shimmering embroidery on the sleeves, hem, and bodice of her deep emerald gown. A few copper- colored tendril of hair settled against the smooth porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders. The bodice of the gown framed her breasts in warm velvet folds edged with white lace, dipping precariously between them. The shoulders of the gown were settled just off the tops of her shoulders, the sleeves ending at her wrists in froths of white lace. The thick green velvet fit her figure like a glove, accentuating her chest, gathering tightly in a gold clasp at her waist, flaring over her hips and down to her feet, which were shod in matching slippers with gold twine wrapped around her ankles. "Scully," he gasped her name, all of his emotion flooding out from him, washing over her in waves of loving admiration. A smile of pleasure brought her reddened lips into a gentle upwards curve, as her eyes sparkled, the green of the dress altering their color to a deep sea-like aqua. She stretched out her hands to him, shyly asking him aloud if she looked all right. "Scully, you look incredible." He finally found the words to speak aloud, even though their bondlink was already being flooded with the intensity of the feelings she aroused in him, and the answering waves of emotion from her. As he took her hands into his and stepped closer to her, to gaze deeply into her eyes, Lita grabbed her nieces and yanked them from the room. Mulder and Scully never noticed the sound of the door closing. ~ ~ ~ Noon. Horns blared into the midday sun, announcing the start of the festival. Already, the dignitaries were in place for the procession into the Great Hall, the courtyard filled to bursting with people of all the four races, each dressed in their best finery. Humans wore the bright colors of their houses, red and green, orange, yellow and purple. The trolls were dressed in shining copper and iron armor, the gargoyles in multi-hued tunics, but the elves outshone everyone, their clothing shimmering like spun silver and gold in the sunlight, shade upon shade of yellow and white, augmented by encrusted jewels and glittering ceremonial daggers. Another blare of the resounding horns, and the doors to the hall opened, allowing the procession to move. Slowly, by order of customary precedence first the Head Priests of each sect, then the elders of each house marched into the hall, down toward the dais on which sat the small figure of Andalor, looking young and frail in the huge throne, and yet gravely regal. Each Representative bowed to the boy Prince, then led his retainers aside to their appointed place in the hall, creating a patchwork sea of colors. Once the Great Houses were in their places, the non- human Representatives followed, Mavor of the Elves, Kergidor of the Trolls, and Beerak of the Gargoyles. The final part of the procession was taken by castle staff and villagers, filling into the end of the hall in muttering, excited clusters, until the entire massive room was crammed, leaving only a small aisle down the center. Andalor rose slowly from his throne, using a small footstool carefully placed at the bottom of the giant wrought gold and iron chair. Once he was on his feet, he stood and waved out towards the crowd. In an instant the room fell silent, except for a few murmurs from some of the nobles, who fell swiftly to disgruntled silence when faced with the disdain of their fellows. A hushed expectancy fell over the room as the eight-year-old Prince took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice amplified by magical aids and the natural echoes in the hall. "People of the Kingdom of Fairwood, Races of the Realm, Travellers and citizens alike, welcome to Fairwood Keep. Its people are your friends, its fruits are yours to share. Come in peace, stay in peace, depart in peace. A time of great celebration is us upon as the Great Dark has been driven from the land. By joining our hearts and strengths as one, we have cleansed our homes of the shadow that threatened them. The Time of Prophecy is over, and we are victorious!" Cheers rang out thoughout the room, accompanied by a nearly deafening stamping of feet on the stone floor. After a moment, Andalor again raised his hand, and silence returned. "The victory has not come without losses. Too many of our peoples are dead, and far too many wounded, suffering, homeless. Now the time has come to turn our great energies to healing the injured, rebuilding the villages, planting our harvests. Just as we fought and won, together, so too can we build together." "But that is for tomorrow. Today is a day of celebration and joy. Henceforth, this day of the year will be a day of festival, a day to put aside the chores of daily life and reflect upon the bounty of the land, to be grateful for our families and homes, to remember the Darkness that came so close to stealing it all away. Remember always and cherish the pleasures of our lives. The Time of the Prophecy has passed, and we are at last triumphant." Andalor again raised his delicate hand for silence, as another outbreak of cheers and foot-stomping rippled through the hall. "Before we begin the festival, there are a few who must be recognized for their courage and dedication to the Realm." The boy Prince nodded to the side, and a group of soldiers came forward, each carrying a a draped object in their arms. The first knelt beside the Prince and handed him a jeweled chain. Andalor took it from him, then turned to face the assembly. "Reinald, Regent of Fairwood, Royal Magician, step forward and be recognized." A ripple of color shimmered as Reinald threaded his way from the right corner to make his way onto the dais. Halting in front of the Prince, he dropped to his knees. "In recognition of your loyalty, and the great risks to thy health and safety taken to defend the Realm, I, Prince of the Fairwood Demesnes, do declare thee a hero of the Realm." Andalor chanted ritually as he dropped the glittering gold chain over the Mage's bent, white-haired head. Reinald smiled proudly up at the boy as he bowed over the Prince's hand, then stood up and returned to his place. The same procedure was repeated three times, for Karvan of the Elves, Gytural of the Trolls, who had been the troll leader who had kept his troop fighting even when the Vortex had gone wild, and Tarnor of the gargoyles. From their position in the back of the room, having taken places beside Jourdain and Aldara, Mulder and Scully exchanged delighted grins at seeing their little friend's ears twitch in excitement as the heavy gold chain was draped around his neck. "No one deserves it more," Jourdain whispered in Mulder's ear,. Mulder nodded in agreement. After the four Heroes had been recognized, Andalor next took a pair of silver daggers from the next soldier in line. "Bravery takes many forms, some are found in battle, some in self-sacrifice, some with a man's sword, some in a woman's heart. It has come to the attention of the crown that two of my finest officers, whose bravery on the battlefield have been a shining example to us all, have exchanged the vows of betrothal. There can be no better way to celebrate the return of the life and light to the Realm than to sanctify a marriage. Captain Jourdain, Sword- Master Aldara, please step forward." "What?" Jourdain exclaimed as Aldara gasped in surprise. Mulder gave him a slight push, and Scully winked brightly at Aldara. "Go on!" she said. Aldara was still leaning on a cane, her leg recovering slowly from its injuries. Knowing how painful each proud step was for her, about half-way down the aisle Jourdain scooped her up in his arms and carried his shocked, but smiling, betrothed up to the Prince amid rousing cheers and raucous laughter. Setting her down carefully in front of the Prince, they both bowed. The Prince inclined his head towards them, then gestured towards a tall, white-robed woman, wearing a heavy wrought iron necklace and a heavy lace veil, standing on the edge of the platform. The Priestess came forward to take the silver daggers from Andalor, then turned to stand silently facing the betrothed couple while Andalor climbed back up onto his throne. As the boy wriggled into his seat, the Priestess raised her hands high in the air and proclaimed in a commanding voice, "before all assembled, before the all-seeing eye and heart of the Mother and all the lesser Gods, we bring this man and this woman to be joined as one for now and all time forward." She pointed the two silver daggers at Jourdain and Aldara's chests. "Two as one you shall be, husband and wife. Bring forth children to grace your union, be strong in support of the land, never break this bond sworn to this day. Do you Jourdain, Captain of the Guard swear your faithfulness to this woman, of your own free will." "Yes," Jourdain responded gravely. "Do you, Aldara Sword-Master, swear your faithfulness to this man, of your own free will." "Yes," Aldara replied, her cheeks flushed and red, her eyes glittering as she turned to smile up at the tall man by her side. The white-clad Priestess held the two daggers out to Aldara and Jourdain. Each took one and staring into each other's eyes, made a quick slice on their palms, then pressed the cuts against each other, letting their blood mingle as it dripped into a chalice held beneath their clasped hands. After a moment, the blood stopped flowing and the Priestess spoke again. "As Priestess to the Goddess, the Mother of All, I so bind these two as husband and wife. May She bless you with children, may the Gods smile upon your path." Bringing the cup up to her mouth she took a swallow, then offered it to Jourdain, who drank, then gave it to Aldara, who did the same, then handed the cup back to the Priestess who gave it to a servant. Jourdain and Aldara turned to the crowd and held their hands up in the air. Those in front who could see the healed scars where the cuts had been broke out into loud cheers, which were soon were echoed throughout the room. While Jourdain and Aldara returned to their places in the back, Andalor reclaimed the stage from the Priestess, scrambling back down from the throne far less ceremoniously than he had before. Mulder thought with amusement that the boy must be getting rather bored by now; but as Scully pushed around Mulder to give Aldara a hug, the Prince resumed his regal bearing and gestured for silence. His child's musical voice rang out over the sounds of the crowd. "The last debt the Realm owes could never be paid in full. Any offering I could make would be an insignificant return on the sacrifices they have made for us. Travellers, come forward." It took Mulder and Scully a moment to remember that meant them, then Scully took his hand and led him forward. She knew this kind of thing embarrassed him, but she knew how important this was to Andalor. Solemnly they walked the length of the small corridor and up to the dais, then kneeled down in front of the Prince. "You have both offered your lives for the Realm, even though it is not your home. In recognition of your loyalty and bravery, you are hereby granted full rights and citizenship within the Fairwood Kingdom. Visitors you no longer are, here will be a home for you for as long as you wish it, for any and all time you wish to remain or return to this demesne. As a symbol of your status, I give you each a sword." At Andalor's words, two soldiers stepped forward, each bearing a shiny iron sword with a silver handle, encased in a wrought leather holder, the smaller one dyed brown and green, the larger one a deep rich blue. Mulder and Scully each took the appropriate sword and bowed to the Prince. "Thank you," they said in unison, blue eyes bright with unshed tears, hazel eyes clear and gleaming. As the two Travellers stood to face the assembly, thousands of voices rang out in one thunderous cheer. The celebration went on throughout the day and deep into the night. Mulder and Scully had eaten until they were stuffed, danced until they were exhausted, and drank enough foamy ale to make them both giddy. After a fumbling start, full of good-natured laughter and slight embarrassment, they had both learned the elaborate line and circle patterns of the Realm's formal dancing. More than once, Jourdain had swept Scully away, leaving a blushing but lovely Aldara to lean against the strength of Mulder's arm. The early tension between the half-elf and the foreign Mage was long gone, replaced by a an easy and comfortable friendship. Sometimes they just stood and chatted, Mulder's dry wit picking at the various dignitaries until Aldara was laughing so vigorously she could hardly take a breath. Or he would mimic her new husband, picking up her small frame into his arms and carrying her across the floor. Scully saved a dance to drag the sputtering Reinald out on the floor, the mage disclaiming the entire time that he did *not* dance. But after the first few steps, and a good shove in the back by a very amused Mulder, he gave in and danced quite well, enjoying himself immensely, even though he refused to admit it. Mulder winked at Scully as he retrieved his life-bondmate from her reluctant partner, getting a peal of laughter in return. Even the old Healer Corvay was not completely immune from the festivities, Mulder and Scully both delighted to see him lead Lita in one of the dances. One look at Scully's happy, but thoughtful, face and Mulder teased her silently, through their bond-link, "Now, Scully, don't even think about it." Her face was purely innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, as she turned to look up at him, the question in her wide, clear blue eyes and slightly parted lips. He grinned and leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath hot against her neck, "No matchmaking!" She leaned back to look gravely up at him, "I wouldn't dare!" she said gravely, then bust out into laughter. "Come on, Mulder. Let's dance." After several hours, it was with a sense of relief that they finally escaped into Reinald's workroom, along with Reinald himself, Aldara, Jourdain, and Tarnor. Scully sank gratefully into the heavily-cushioned chair in front of the fireplace, her dress fanning out around him a rich folds of green velvet. Her cheeks were blooming with color from the dancing, her eyes were brilliant sapphires, gleaming with laughter and a bit too much wine. Mulder settled himself at her feet, long legs splayed out across the floor, leaning his head back against her lap. She rested one hand on his shoulder, using the other to gently caress his hair. He crossed his hand over his chest to hold hers and closed his eyes in pleasure. Jourdain took over the neighboring chair lifting his bride up into his lap. Aldara wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, resting in the security of his embrace, the bright yellow-green of her flowing silk dress spreading over Jourdain's cradling arms. Reinald eyed the two couples with unconcealed amusement, and when the customary offer of tea was refused all around, he pulled a third chair towards the fireplace, joining them while Tarnor got the fire started. Once it was blazing in the big hearth, throwing out streams of light and warmth, Tarnor squatted down on the floor beside Mulder with a sigh, rubbing his belly. "Ate too much, Tarnor?" Mulder teased. As the little gray gargoyle nodded, Scully grinned. "You're one to talk about over-eating. After today we may need to have poor Lita take out a seam in your clothing." Mulder shot her an exaggerated pout while the others laughed. Then he smiled, too, rubbing his own stomach. "You may be right." Once the laughter had died down, Scully turned to Aldara and Jourdain. "So what are your plans now? In our world, a marriage is usually followed by what we call a 'honeymoon' - the couple takes a trip together." "That's an interesting custom. Usually here, the newly- married stay at home with their families. In fact its customary that a member of both families is present at the first union." Aldara explained. "But our situation is a little different. Jourdain doesn't have much family still living, and mine has no interest in me." Mulder gave her a look of intense sympathy as Jourdain tightened his arms around his bride at the sadness in her voice and kissed the dark top of her head. "Your family is right here," he whispered. She angled her head to give him a glowing smile, then looked back at Scully. "Actually, I really like your custom. How long do these journeys usually last?" "Depends on the people involved, a couple of days to a couple of weeks. The idea is to give the newlyweds time alone together away from responsibilities." "I like the sound of that more and more," Aldara responded. Jourdain sighed, then grinned. "Why not? My men can handle cleaning up any stray creatures without me. And I've always wanted to visit the ocean." "Oh, yes, please!" Aldara said, her hair rippling down her back as she hugged Jourdain tighter, getting a snort from Reinald, mutual smiles from Scully, Mulder and Tarnor. "There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mulder commented. "Corvay explained to Scully about the rites of validation for a lifebond, in which the couple is left alone in a special house. Why is it so different from the marriage ceremony? After all, they're pretty much the same thing." "Marriages and life-bonds are often shared by the same two people, but not always," Reinald explained. "Most marriages do not involve a lifebond, though most lifebonded pairs do get married. Still, these are considered quite different events. A life- bond is a special joining of two individuals, private and unique to them. But a marriage is often far more than that, usually it is a joining of families and properties, involving questions of land rights, political alliances, and inheritances. Often the parents or siblings of the married couple have much more at stake than the new husband and wife. Also, it's an ancient custom to have members of both families witness the...unh...proof of the bride's...ummm...innocence on her wedding night." He came to halt, his cheeks flushing bright red. Aldara and Scully both grinned at the Mage's embarrasment, while Mulder looked thoughtful, absorbing the information. "What about you, Mulder, Scully?" Tarnor asked. "Marriage may be something of a formality with a lifebond, but have you thought about it?" "I think we'll wait until we get home," Scully replied, then added teasingly. "Mulder doesn't like the idea of cutting himself." "Home?" Jourdain and Aldara both stared at the Travellers. "You're not planning to try to go through the vortex again?" Jourdain asked worriedly. Mulder, Scully and Reinald exchanged glances, then Scully spoke softly. "I'm sorry. We meant to land the news on you later, in a better way. If there is a better way. It's just that I miss my family, and Mulder does too, at least..." she hedged, looking down at Mulder's darkening face. He spoke up quickly, deciding to tell them the full truth, however much it hurt to say it aloud. "My sister disappeared many years ago. I think she's still alive - somewhere. I swore that I'd never give up trying to find her. I can't do that here, I have to go home. And Scully's mother and sister and brothers must be frantic, not knowing what happened to her." Jourdain nodded, he understood about keeping oaths, especially the ones you made with yourself. But there was still the question of the Vortex. "Manipulating the Vortex already nearly killed you both once. Can you be certain that you can control the vortex enough to end up in the right place, and still alive?" "No, not for certain." Mulder admitted. "But this vortex will be much smaller than the one we created for the war. So it should be easier to control. Reinald was able to bring Tarnor, Scully and me through one alone, with my help, and the additional experience we've had, it should be easier this time." "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?" Aldara had to ask. She knew it was selfish of her, but she hated the thought of losing her friends, she had few to start with and Scully was as dear to her as any sister could be. "With your talents you could make a good life here. With the Dark gone, the Realm really is a pleasant place to live." Scully saw the pain in her friend's eyes, even through the alcoholic haze, and reached out to take her hand. "I don't like the idea of leaving our friends. You have been wonderful to us, and we've come to love you all very much. We thought very seriously about staying. But we have to at least try to get home. I'm worried about my mother. My father died recently, and having me just disappear like this will be very painful for her. I'm sorry Aldara, but we don't really belong here." "I understand," Aldara said tearfully. And as much as it hurt, she really did understand. "I'm going to miss you both a lot." "We're going to miss you, too," Scully replied, her blue eyes growing bright with unshed tears. "All of you." Her voice broke on the last word, and Mulder pulled her hand in his to his mouth so that he could kiss it, his mind sending waves of love and comfort through the lifebond. "Well, it's not like we're leaving tonight. It will take a while to make plans. No need to spoil tonight with good-byes." Mulder suggested. "That's right," Reinald agreed. "The spell will probably take days to work out. In the meantime, this is supposed to be a celebration. Anyone for another glass of wine?" "Sure," the men exclaimed, eliciting mutual sighs from the women. Tarnor had been silent up to this point, his ears twitching with emotion. Now he bared his alarming teeth in a wide grin and stood up. "I'll go see if there are any sober servants around," he offered, bobbing towards the door. When he didn't quite make it, coming to a confused halt then plopping to the floor with a loud burp, the others burst out laughing. "Forget the wine," Scully observed between giggles. "Better get Tarnor into his bed." "And me as well," Aldara responded. She hiccuped, then giggled again, as Scully couldn't resist commenting, "I don't think you'd fit to well into Tarnor's bed. Besides, I think Jourdain has other plans." "I think it's time to get *you* into bed," Mulder responded, standing up and scooping her up into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled against his shoulder. As Mulder carried her past the dazed figure of Tarnor, Scully leaned her head backwards to wink upside down at Jourdain and Aldara. "Enjoy your wedding night!" She dissolved into another fit of giggles as Mulder carried her through the door and down the hall, the room echoing with her mirth ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ As a teary-eyed Lita left the room, Scully ran into the welcoming shelter of Mulder's arms. He clasped her against him, leaning down to kiss the tears from her eyes. She reached up to grasp onto his shoulders, letting his love wash over her in soothing waves. They remained standing in their embrace for a few moments, then Scully tilted her head up so she could meet his eyes. "I'm going to miss everyone here so much," she said. He leaned down to brush her lips with his, then nodded. "Me, too." He sighed, his eyes turning black. "I hated seeing Andalor so upset. He really wanted us to stay." "Yes, he's very attached to you," she said, remembering all too clearly the boy-Prince's unhappy response to their goodbyes that morning. It had been difficult for all involved, but especially for Mulder. He may not admit it, even to her, but she knew her bondmate well enugh to know that he was just as fond of the young Prince as Andalor was of him. "Just as Lita is attached to you." He whispered, catching the essence of her thoughts, even as he rested his forehead against the top of her head, breathing in the fragrance of her hair. "I wish there had been an easier way to do this." "Me, too," she echoed, presing her face into the muscular strength of his chest, the place just below his shoulder which she felt was made just for her. Lita, too had been deeply upset by the news they were leaving, though she had attempted to hide it. Scully wished there was a way she could have avoided hurting her friend's feelings. "How did Corvay take the news?" he questioned, sending a mixture of concern and suppport down their mindlink in response to her pain. "Well," she replied, her voice muffled by the fabric of his tunic. "I think he understood best of all. He wished us both well, and gave me a packet of his medicinal herbs." She angled her head up to look at him, a tentative smile on her face. Corvay had, as was usual with him, been very philosophical about the whole thing - and obviously unsurprised. "I think he knew somehow that we would need to leave once the battle was over, so was prepared for it, though I think he would have prefered for us to say." Her smile grew warmer. "He was gruff about it, but I think he'll miss me some." "I think he'll miss you a lot." Mulder responded, returning her smile. "I'll miss him too," Scully responded. "But I have to admit that I'm delighted with the herbs he gave me. I can't wait to be able to get them analyzed." His smile widened as he teased her. "Why am I not surprised, Doctor Scully?" "Beast!" she accused in a more lighthearted voice than he had heard from her in a while. He kissed her forehead, then looked down into her eyes, his expression becoming more serious. "I know saying goodbye to out friends here is hard, Scully, but I think we're doing the right thing. We belong in our world, not here." "You're right," she responded, her face saddened but certain. "All the training and then the trial and the war kept me too busy to think much about it, but now...now I just keep seeing my mother's face. Finding out we disappeared must have been devastating for her." "We'll get home, Dana," he reassured her, tightening his arms around her. "I promise." ~ ~ ~ The day Mulder and Scully left Fairwood dawned clear and bright, the sun beating down in shimmering waves of heat. Scully was already sweating by the time she had finished saddling her horse. The packs containing clothes, food, and the medicinal herbs Corvay had given her a a goodbye-gift were carefully secured to the back of the saddle, the sword that Andalor had given her was hanging down her back. She was dressed in a light green tunic over brown leggings, her feet encased in soft leather boots. As usual her hair was bound in a bright red, braided knot on the crown of her head. One final check of the girth and the bridle, and she knew there was no more reason for delay. She turned to Mulder who was standing by his horse, staring up at the castle, a somber expression on his face. He was dressed in a bright blue tunic, his matching mage cloak draped over the back of his saddle. The silver-gilded sword was hanging down his back, as crooked as ever, and she only barely resisted the temptation to reach out and straighten it. "Ready to go?" she asked. He turned to face her. "Yes, I guess there's no point in waiting." "I'll miss this place, too," she said sympathetically. "I know, Scully," he smiled softly down at her, his eyes bright as they looked into the beauty of her face. "Well, maybe this will help you remember us," Aldara's voice interrupted them as she hobbled into the courtyard, leaning on a silver cane. Behind her, Jourdain was carrying a large cloth bundle, tied with a bright red string. "What is it?" Mulder asked, curiosity lighting his eyes. "It's a tapestry. We had it commissioned the day after the celebration. Reinald set the spells himself, and I did most of the design work." Aldara explained with a hesitant smile. "That's wonderful!" Scully exclaimed, taking the heavy wrapped cloth from Jourdain. "We'll treasure it always." Mulder nodded agreement, his mouth curving upwards in a smile. "Are you sure you don't want company on the ride?" Jourdain offered, as he done repeatedly over the few days. "No, Jourdain, thank you. Tarnor will guide us well. You belong here with your bride. We wish you both the best." Scully replied, handing the tapestry over to Mulder, then reaching out to give first Aldara and then Jourdain a tearful hug. "Take good care of each other!" "We will," Jourdain promised, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders. Just as Mulder had finished securing the bundle to his saddle, Reinald rushed over to join them, his blue robe askew, his white hair sticking out in all directions. "I'm glad I didn't miss you before you left. I have something for you," he said, holding out a small pouch to Mulder. Mulder accepted it and opened the drawstring, pouring the contents out into his hand. It was a tiny version of the Oracle Cloud suspended on a thick gold chain. "It's beautiful," he said, eyes bright with pleasure. "I *think* it may allow you to contact me if necessary, even from your world. It will only work once, so be careful of when and how you use it." Reinald explained with some pride. Mulder's Mage-trained eyes could see the blue strands of the spell on the tiny crystal, and he smiled gravely. "I will treat it with care, Reinald. Thank you." He pulled the chain over his neck and dropped the crystal under his shirt so that it rested against his chest. "Goodbye, dear friends," Reinald said sadly. "I hope you find your way home safely." "Goodbye," Mulder said reaching out to clasp his friend's shoulder. "We'll never forget you, all of you!" At that moment Tarnor led his small pony out of the barn and came up beside them. Mulder gave one more long look around at the place that had been their home for close to a year and sighed. "I guess we'd better get on the road." Scully agreed, turning to mount her horse with the ease of long practice. Once all three were mounted and ready to go, they rode silently to the edge of the courtyard, then turned and waved. Standing by the door to the stables, Reinald, Jourdain and Aldara waved back, watching together as the three riders guided their horses in a steady trot to the castle gates, then waving back once more, urged them out onto the road, breaking into a smooth cantor. "Gods go with you," Aldara whispered, leaning against her husband's shoulder. "May the Mother watch your path and guide you safely home." "Amen," Jourdain responded, still gazing out at the dusty road. "Amen." ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The ride through the woods was quiet and peaceful. Except for the occasional deer-like animal and the ever-present chattering birds, they did not encounter another living soul once they left the Forest Edge Village where they had stopped for dinner and a good night's sleep. The last day of their three-day journey was spent mostly in silence, each caught up in his or her own private thoughts. Mulder and Scully were not shutting each other out, they simply gave each other the space they each needed to start putting the past behind them and begin the process of focusing on the future. Tarnor guided them easily through the woods, closing in on the vortex site hour by hour. They stopped for lunch on the banks of a small stream, refreshing themselves with the clear water and a meal of bread and fruit. Then they continued along their journey, in places having to dismount and lead the horses through the dense forest, in others having to use their swords to cut the heavy brush back from the heavily overgrown path. But Tarnor's gargoyle sense of direction was just as exact here in the deep woods as it was in the rambling mines and caves of his people's homes, and he brought them into the familiar clearing by late afternoon. A wide grin broke over Mulder's face as he gazed up at the massive oak he had fallen into on their first trip through the vortex. "Well, at least I know I won't get stuck up in a tree in the lab," he commented wryly. "That's if we actually end up in the lab," Scully reminded him. "Are you sure you can do this?" she asked Mulder anxiously. Now that they were actually here, her fears over stepping into the unknown vortex were rising sharply. Mulder swallowed, the instant reassurance dying on his lips. "I...I *think* so, Scully," he replied honestly. "If you want to call this off, I'll understand," he said, sharing her concerns. Though he thought he could handle this, he couldn't be certain until he tried it, and he was hesitant to put Scully in danger. "No" Scully said, her chin jutting forward in determination. They had come this far, she was not going to give up now. Not when they could be home in a matter of minutes - well, at least in the right dimension. She slid down off her horse, then glanced up at her partner, blue eyes bright as she insisted firmly. "Take us home, Mulder!" He nodded, accepting her decision. Dismounting from his horse, he took Scully's reins and handed both horses over to Tarnor. As he and Scully both removed the packs from the horses, he told Tarnor to take the horses out of sight. "The last thing we need is the horses bolting from fright." Tarnor bobbed his head in understanding. He looked anxiously at the couple standing on the forest floor in front of him, his ears twitching. "Good luck to you both. I hope your journey home is both quick and safe." "You, too, Tarnor," Scully responded, knowing she spoke for both Mulder and herself. Smiling she reached to tap the little gargoyle on his leg. "Take good care of Reinald, and watch out for Jourdain and Aldara." "I will," he promised, giving them one last glimpse of his toothy smile. Then he turned to lead the horses back through the woods, leaving Mulder and Scully standing alone in the fading light, small leather bundles piled at their feet. "Ready?" Mulder asked, throwing one of the packs over his shoulder by its straps and hefting the bundle containing the tapestry in his left hand. "Yes," Scully answered tensely, looping the other two packs over her shoulder, then reaching out to take his right hand. He threaded his fingers tightly through hers, then closed his eyes and began to concentrate. Scully felt the now-familiar power grow in him, blue strands of fire lancing up and down their clasped arms, filling the small glade with brilliant blue light. Quickly grounded and shielded, so as not to create too much of a Mage-storm, Mulder centered, then focused the power, slowly building the vortex spell step by step. Scully shuddered and moved closer to him as the wind began to pick up and the air darkened. Mulder's chant was silent, but it echoed in both their minds as it increased in intensity, the power leaping up around their bodies, then swirling out at his command to form a pinpoint of light a few feet in front of them. The small center of the spell wavered and expanded, seemingly drinking the very air itself. Concentric black and white circles formed one upon another, rippling in a mesmerizing flow of light and darkness. One shouted command escaping from Mulder's clamped lips and it burst into outward into a shimmering whirlpool nearly six feet wide. Wind whipped around it, making Mulder and Scully fight for their footing as they stepped cautiously toward the mouth of the vortex. Right at its edge, the paused and looked deep into each other's eyes. //I love you, Dana!\\ Mulder's mindvoice echoed in Scully's mind. //I love you, Fox!\\ she sent back, grasping onto his hand so tightly her fingers turned white. Minds melding in one last exchange of affection and commitment, they simultaneously closed their eyes and stepped forward into the vortex.... End of Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen ...and the vortex spat them out into the cold, sterile room, five feet from the surface of the floor. "Aaaagghhh! God damn it!" "Mulder, are you all right? Oh, gods, my head!" Scully rubbed her temple where it had struck the counter. The room was dark, but certainly looked like the place they had left precipitously so long ago. The windows looked out on a night sky and rain spattered against the glass. The room was chilly, with a strange, foreign, metallic smell to it. "Yeah, I just twisted my knee. Not even back thirty seconds and I'll need to have x-rays. Incredible," growled Mulder. He dragged himself and his bundles over to the closest wall and sat leaning against it. Still dizzy from the trip through the vortex, Scully grabbed her sack and crawled over on her hands and knees to where Mulder was sitting. "Let me see it. You're going to have to take your pants down, Mulder - they won't roll up and I need to examine your knee. It's going to be hard enough in the dark." "Just don't take advantage of me in my weakened condition," said Mulder. He did as she asked and grimaced in pain when the movement jarred his leg. "You should be so lucky," murmured Scully, examining his knee with her now curious mixture of conventional medical knowledge and Realm healing practices. She was quiet for a while, obviously trying very hard to concentrate. "Well, you did a nice job, Mulder - it's definitely badly sprained, with maybe some ligament damage thrown in for good measure." "Can you fix it, or are you going to make me go to the hospital and then I'll have to fill out all those insurance forms. I can hardly wait until I get to the space where it asks how the accident happened - "Well, I was returning through a vortex from another reality when -" They'll lock me up for sure." "In view of some of your other injuries and how they were acquired, I wouldn't worry about it." Scully looked at him. "Well, it will be interesting to see if psychic healing works in this reality. I was able to examine your knee the "Realm way", but it was more difficult to do and the results were less clear than they would have been in the Realm. Okay, hold still, let's see what I can do." She laid her hands on his knee and concentrated as hard as she could, reaching in with her mind to find the injured cells, help them heal, stop the small amount of bleeding in the tissues, and soothe the inflammation away. She was trembling with the effort when she felt Mulder's hand on her cheek. "Scully, it's all right, come out of it." Mulder's expression was concerned and he sought her eyes anxiously. She took a deep, tremulous breath. "Evidently, these powers don't travel well. Did I make any difference?" "Yeah, the pain's not so bad now. I got a feeling of warmth when you were in there. It's still pretty swollen, though." Mulder pulled up his leather breeches. "Do you think it's the same with all the extraordinary things we could do in the Realm? Do you think we're losing everything?" Scully asked, suddenly alarmed. "Mulder, our link!" Almost in a panic, his mind reached out to hers, and she caught and held it gratefully, caressing it in relief. She put her arms around him. "Oh, thank the gods, Mulder. It seems like we've given up so much to come back home, but that's the one thing I didn't want to lose - that feeling, that closeness. I don't think I could stand being 'alone' in there again." Mulder smiled gently, tracing her hairline, her eyes, her lips with his fingertips. "I guess lifebonds travel better. No, I couldn't stand it either." He kissed her slowly, sweetly, his gratitude for that special bond evident in his touch. They held each other close for some time, celebrating the survival of that most precious souvenir of the Realm. "I wonder what the date is? Too bad there's no calendar in here," Mulder said. "Everything looks exactly the same as when we left, but I suppose this lab hasn't changed substantially in years. I'm just assuming that the door is locked, of course. Uh, Scully, you wouldn't want to walk over there and check it out, would you? In view of my weakened condition?" "That's going to get old real quick, Mulder." Scully cautiously got to her feet, holding on to the wall for support until the dizziness had abated. Then she walked the length of the room and tried the doorknob. "Locked." She felt the walls near the door. "Evidently the light switch is on the outside of the room. So we're going to stay locked in the dark for a while. She walked back again to Mulder and sat down next to him on the floor. "Now what?" "Well, we'll see when it gets light. Kind of depends on what day it is. If we've had the lack of foresight to come back on a Sunday, we could be in here for a while. If it's a weekday, someone will be around, either next door or below us or somewhere. Hell, we can heave a piece of equipment out the window to attract attention if we have to. Or, I could try to unlock the door." "Too bad you don't have your burglary tools with you," Scully commented. "Well, you had the opportunity to see if your powers still worked, let me see what I can do with mine." She sensed him concentrate and go through the now automatic routine of centering, grounding and shielding. Scully saw the doorknob turn marginally, heard a metallic clicking sound from time to time. Sweat stood out on Mulder's brow from the effort he was exerting. "Mulder, stop. It doesn't matter. Not at this point, anyway," said Scully, concerned. "I see what you meant. It seems like it's harder to focus, harder to see what you're trying to do." Mulder sighed. "Well, it was nice while it lasted. Too bad, I was kind of looking forward to levitating a few bad guys." "Just as well, Mulder. Try explaining *that* to Skinner." Scully smiled up at him. They were quiet for a while, locked in their own thoughts. Scully sighed and opened the sack. She took out the tapestry and sat touching it wistfully. Mulder entered her mind very gently and sensed her melancholy. "I know - I miss them already too." "Mulder, did we make the right decision? It seems we left just when things were going to be at their best - the Prince back in good health, the Dark Realm forces defeated, that little wart Drellor in prison. Maybe we should have stayed around for a while, to enjoy it while we could, without the training and the fighting and the blood and the horror." He held her closer and stroked her hair. "The longer we stayed, the more attached we would have gotten and the harder transition we would have back here." She nodded. "I know that. I guess I'm just being selfish, but if it hadn't been for my family, I would have been happy to stay there. If it hadn't been for your search for Samantha, you would have wanted to stay, too." She felt his mind flinch, recoiling slightly at the mention of Samantha's name, and she communicated an apology. "No, that's all right," Mulder said with a sad smile. "You're right, Dana, a large part of why we came back was because of my work and your family. But it's not like we had a horrible existence here. I think that you're tired and reacting to the effects of the vortex and the transition back. Give yourself some time. Besides, there's some good things about being back." "Like?" Scully was getting a perverse pleasure out of her depression, and was not about to give up on it easily. "Okay, how about coffee? As wonderful as their tea was, there were times in the Realm I would have killed for a cup of coffee. And sunflower seeds. Of all the plants for the Realm not to have! And tacos and burritos and pepperoni pizza. Uh- oh, probably not a good subject to raise, sitting in a locked room. I know we have bread and jerky, but somehow it's just not quite the same." Scully smiled. "You know what I missed the most? Showers! Tubs are great, and sometimes even fun," she said with a sidelong glance at Mulder. "But I want a nice hot shower so bad..." "Showers can be fun, too," said Mulder, and he looked so hopeful that Scully laughed in spite of herself. They were quiet for a few seconds, just enjoying being in each other's presence. "Thank you," she said. "For what?" "For being you. For loving me." She took hold of his hand as it rested against her shoulder and threaded her fingers through his. "Mmmm. Any time." He sighed and lay his cheek against her hair. "That's going to be something else to get used to." "What?" "You and me. Here." Scully snuggled into his chest. "Maybe that's another reason why I miss the Realm so much - I kind of associate the Realm with you and me being, you know, together and lifebonded. I associate our world with having to hide feelings and being unaware of our life-bond and being so alone." "Never again," he said firmly. Mulder thought for a minute. "We're still lifebonded and we'll always have that, it's undeniable. And because of that, we'll never be alone again, for which I, for one, am incredibly grateful." He hugged her tighter and she returned his embrace. "But about the 'hiding our feelings' part - there's still the Bureau." "I know - Mulder , what are we going to do?" "I don't know, we'll figure it out. I think as long as we're discrete, it will be alright. Maybe business as usual at the office, and we'll figure out something with the living arrangements. "How are we going to explain all this vortex and gargoyle business to Skinner?" asked Scully. "Now that is definitely something I'm too tired to think about right now. I don't know, let's wait until we've talked to Professor Neumann. We might as well get some rest. Nothing's going to happen until it gets light out, at the earliest, and it doesn't look like that is going to happen any time soon." They closed their eyes, not counting on sleeping, but the effects of the trip through the vortex and their attempts to use their powers had drained them more than they knew. They slept leaning against the wall in each other's arms for several hours. ~ ~ ~ The thud of a closing door nearby awakened them with a start. They had just opened their eyes to the murky dawn light when the overheads came on suddenly, and they involuntarily closed them again. They heard the sound of a key in the door, and forced their eyes open, squinting in the bright light. "My God!" Professor Neumann stood silhouetted in the doorway against the dark of the prep room. "Where did you go to? God, look at you!" He stared at them, disbelief, wonder, and fascination passing in turns over his face. Mulder and Scully rose to their feet, Mulder with some difficulty. "It's a very long story," he said. Suddenly, his attention was focused on the vinyl tile floor. Either they had very poor custodial services, or.... "Professor Neumann, how long have we been gone?" Hearing the tension in Mulder's voice, Scully looked up at him, and started to touch his mind. Coffee stains? "It's Wednesday morning - you disappeared Monday evening." Scully stared at him. "That's impossible," she said flatly. Mulder was staring out of the window, then he turned around to face her. "No, he's right. I noticed those stains on the floor where someone had dripped coffee and they're the same, exactly the same. The trees are still in bud, exactly as they were when we left. And more proof - our rental car is still in the same place we parked it, except it appears to have a small collection of parking citations on it now. No, Scully, he's telling the truth. I just can't explain it." Neumann continued to stare at them as they talked, his eyes dilated with amazement. Thirty six hours ago, he had met two professionally dressed and coifed agents, in good physical shape but nothing special, with the pallor of a long winter on their skins. Now - God, now! They both wore leather breeches, soft white shirts and some kind of leather vest or tunic, and were shod in boots. The clothing was certainly a departure, but the Professor had been around Cambridge long enough to see everything in terms of bizarre clothing choices. It was the physical changes which were so striking. The young man's physique was different - leaner, stronger, the shoulders and chest broader. He had a hardness, an edge to him, a presence or sense of self that simply hadn't been there before. The woman, too. Gone was any sense of softness. Her appearance almost screamed that this woman was a force to be reckoned with. She, too, was much leaner and stronger looking, her arms like whipcord. With both of them, there was something in the eyes - knowledge, horror, peace; just a hint of more substance. Both were tanned and windburned, the kind of changes to skin that occur only over long periods of living or working out of doors. Both had long hair, several inches longer than it had been, definitely not FBI issue and a change that could not occur in a day and a half. "Wherever you've been, it's obvious you've been there for more than thirty six hours," he finally said, his voice calmer than he felt. "I'll put on some coffee and we can talk about it." "Could we talk somewhere the recovery team did not have access to yesterday? I don't like to sound paranoid, but I think you have to at least consider the possibility that some bugs may have been left behind." "A very good point, Mr. Mulder. I will have some people I know do a thorough check later today. Meanwhile, we can go into a conference room that has been in constant use for the past two days for a meeting." They walked down the hallway, or hobbled in Mulder's case, to the conference room where they were unlikely to be disturbed, at least not for several hours. A stunned silence was maintained while the professor fired up the Mr. Coffee, and then poured out a cup of the strong brew for each of them. "Why don't you tell us what went on here after we 'left'. You don't have quite as much time to fill in as we do," suggested Mulder. He sipped the coffee as if it were ambrosia. Professor Neumann nodded. "Well, I'm assuming you heard the arrival of the recovery team?" Mulder and Scully inclined their heads. "They kicked in the door and were not pleased when they found nothing. They interrogated myself and my assistant for several hours, including lie detector tests. It perhaps worked to everyone's benefit that we did not have a lot of time to talk and exchange ideas prior to your disappearance. Since I had no idea where you might have gone, passing the polygraph was not a problem." "They really forced you to take a polygraph?" Scully asked, astounded. "Well, no one put an actual gun to my head," replied Neumann. "They just threatened to pull strings and have my grants withdrawn - a fate worse than death, as any research scientist will tell you. In fact the gun may be preferable - only one life is snuffed out, not a huge body of research." Mulder looked a little guiltily at Scully, then at Neumann. "Anything else?" "They searched the place pretty thoroughly yesterday, looking for hidden panels, anything that could explain how you had managed to elude them. They seemed especially diligent when they learned - not from me, by the way - that you, Mr. Mulder, were the agent in charge of the case. They left midafternoon yesterday. Evidently the official line is to be that it was a student prank. They were not amused by the incident." "Did they leave you with the impression that they might be coming back?" The Professor shrugged. "Anything's possible, I suppose, but I honestly didn't get that feeling. I got the idea that they felt they had wasted enough time here and were only too happy to go back to Hanscom. Now, Mr. Mulder, I think you two have a story to tell, do you not?" Mulder nodded. "You might want to use those tape recorders over there, and make an audio record for each of us. For our own private use, right? I'm warning you in advance, a lot of what you are going to hear is going to sound crazy. As far as physical evidence goes, there's our appearances, which show changes that can't have been accomplished in thirty six hours. We have some things here in the sack which we brought with us, but I'm not sure how much they prove. And we have the fact that you saw us go into the locked room with Tarnor, and not come out." "Tarnor?" "Oh, yes, sorry. That was the name of the gargoyle." Mulder looked at Scully - this was going to be very difficult. Scully looked at him sympathetically and shrugged. If Mulder had come to her with this story, she would have been very hard- pressed to believe it, and she knew and respected him. What was this complete stranger - a physicist, no less, used to masses of quantifiable data - going to believe? As if he had read their minds, he said, "I want to assure you - I'm a lot more openminded than you may think. Space/time continuum experiments open up a lot of areas that have only been explored in science fiction. Often, there is a sense of unreality about what we do." Mulder smiled. "The irony is, Dr. Neumann, that it isn't a case of a lack of reality - it's more a case of too many realities. Start your tape recorders." When the machines were running, Mulder quickly gave a summary of how the Bureau had been notified, the history of X-File involved, the telepathic communication with the creature, and their fall through the Vortex. "We were in a reality that had multiple species of intelligent lifeforms - humans, gargoyles, trolls and elves, which lived together in towns but also had separate settlements. Interspecies bigotry was not unknown but neither was it institutionalized or encouraged. All spoke the same language and participated to varying degrees in the same culture, government, and so on. Certain species had particular gifts, talents and other attributes, which we can talk about in more detail later. There was a feudal/agrarian kind of economy and a parliamentary monarchy politically. Technologically, the Realm was at a par with, say, Europe in the 13th or 14th century, with some exceptions - anachronisms, I guess you'd say. However, certain of their institutions showed an amazing degree of sophistication; for the most part, these were areas in which paranormal or supernatural forces were harnessed and used. I can speak directly to the use of magic." Mulder then went on to explain about how he was trained as a magician, the language spell that permitted them to communicate,and some of the feats of which he was capable in the Realm, up to and including building the Gate and the Vortex. Professor Neumann's eyes grew wide with fascination and delight. Mulder then handed the microphone to Scully. "I can speak to the use of what would be considered in this reality paranormal forces in the diagnosis and treatment of disease and injury." Scully then went on to describe her training as a Healer, the use of herbal remedies and the use of psychic healing for everything from abrasions to Mulder's poisoning, from broken bones to ruptured organs. She handed the microphone back to Mulder, her chest constricting with something very like homesickness for the Realm that was so far away. "This is all sounding very dry and clinical," Mulder said. "Actually, it was anything but. The people and other beings there were wonderful, with just as many heroes and villains, just as many clowns and tragic figures as we have in our reality. We really became totally integrated into their world in an amazingly short length of time. We left behind a lot of good friends." Mulder felt his throat tightening with emotion as he thought of them. "How long did you perceive you were there?" inquired Neumann. Because of the professor's involvement with time experiments, Mulder gave the question serious consideration and tried to be as accurate as possible in his answer. "It's difficult to tell - they did not appear to have very sophisticated processes in place for measuring time - it was mostly by natural phenomena - moon cycles, seasons, things like that. As far as I am aware there were no clocks, and I never heard dates referred to. It was all rather vague. Our watches stopped when we went through the Vortex , not that they would have accurately measured time in the Realm in any case. To answer your specific question, we were under the impression that we were there 9 to 12 months. I'm sorry I can't be any more specific. We weren't really keeping track." "I can understand why Scully was trained as a healer, because she's a doctor here. Why in the world were you trained as a wizard?" asked Professor Neumann. "Actually, she was a warrior first and a Healer second," Mulder explained. "It has to do with auras. These people believed that some things are destined to be, and it's indicted by an aura of a certain color or quality. The aura might indicate certain talents or in some rare cases, couples who are predestined to be together. My aura is a bright clear blue, considered to be indicative of magical ability. In a way, that's how we ended up in the Realm, because of our auras." Oh god, he's never going to believe this, thought Mulder. "That's right," said Scully. "They had an ancient Prophecy that told of a powerful magician who is bonded to a warrior/Healer who come from far away and save the Realm from an unspeakable evil. My aura, warrior's green and Healer's brown, is unique - it doesn't exist for anyone else. Tarnor acted as a conduit, our auras were noticed and we were - not prevented - from being sucked into the Vortex." Scully paused. "Which brings me to the important thing we must discuss - " "Just a minute. First tell me what you mean by 'bonded'." "That's something personal. In any case it can wait," said Scully. "Well, what about this unspeakable evil?" "That's what we're trying to explain," said Mulder. "The Vortex is not a natural occurrence in the Realm. It has appeared on an irregular basis for a very long time now. At one time they were conducting experiments with it, but none was successful. When Tarnor and Scully and I travelled through, it was the first time anyone had been retrieved successfully from this world back to the Realm. We believe strongly that there is be a correlation between the experiments you perform on an irregular basis and the appearance of the Vortex in the Realm." Professor Neumann nodded. "Based on what I know of the experiments that were performed before my time, and certainly the ones I've been performing, I'd say that is surely a possibililty." Mulder sighed. "If it were merely a case of an intermittant link between our world and the Realm, I would not be quite so concerned. I still wouldn't rest easy, knowing some of the types like the recovery team that could go in there and wreak havoc, but it wouldn't be as horrible a situation as the one that existed." Neumann frowned. "Was there a problem?" Scully took up the story. "The problem was that the Realm and our reality were not the only ones involved. There was at least one other, what the people of the Realm called the Dark Place. It was -" Scully shuddered a little and forced herself to continue - "it was a place populated by hideous nightmare creatures that slaughtered whatever got in their path wherever they went. They used the Vortex to enter the Realm. They killed tens of thousands, between the villages they wiped out, and the men and women killed on the field of battle, trying to drive them out. That was the unspeakable evil the Prophecy talked about. For us, the war ended just a couple of weeks ago. You can't even begin to imagine how horrible it was." "And you think that our experiments created the Vortex, allowing these other creatures to enter the Realm," said the professor thoughtfully. Mulder's face reflected the horrors that he and Scully had experienced. "Well, it's extremely unlikely that these Dark Realm creatures would have any form of culture which would support a science sophisticated enough to have a Vortex that originated with them. These beasts were just killing machines, they didn't even have an organized army, just packs of vicious things running amok. And we have no idea what other realities may have been linked." He paused. "We had no certainty that we would emerge here when we came back, we could have ended up anywhere, including that nightmare place. There may be forces at work here we're not aware of that direct where something exits from the Vortex." "God, it would be fascinating to be able to find out what those forces are, to control them, to have a limited transportation back and forth," Neumann's face was illuminated with the wonder of it all. "Can you imagine how fantastic it would be?" "Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm," Mulder said drily. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to go back to the Realm someday; we nearly chose to stay there. But not if there is any risk of again exposing the innocents of that place and time to the nightmare we were forced to deal with. And there's another reason. We couldn't be sure that those creatures weren't coming through to our world. As far as I know, nothing but dumb luck prevented it. In brief, Professor, if we're going to open doors, we'd better know what's behind them." "What are you going to do?" Neumann asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Mulder bent over and rested his arms on this knees. He shook his head and stared at the ground, then looked up at the physicist. "I don't know, I honestly don't. How likely do you think it is that anyone will believe our story?" The professor smiled and shook his head. "Exactly. No one is going to believe it. If we were believed, that might be worse. The next thing you know the NSA or some organization like it would be in charge of the project, and those 'Gestapo types' you mentioned, Professor Neumann, will be trying to take over the Realm. I would personally blow up this lab and take the consequences to prevent that from happening, or to prevent another catastrophe like the one we saw with the Dark forces." Mulder looked Neumann directly in the eyes. "The Realm is a living, breathing culture, as rich or richer than our own in many ways. We have a lot to learn from them. For one thing, there was quite a bit about their practice of medicine that was more effective and much more humane than our own. But while I would hate to see the door to the Realm shut forever, it would be preferable to contamination from another reality." "Is there any way that the experiments could be controlled to eliminate the risk of opening up another Dark Realm?" asked Scully. "Possibly," said Neumann. "You see, we were just working on theory before, merely hypothesizing that other realities existed. By your evidence, we now know that they do exist. Knowing that, I think some safeguards can be built in that...just give me a minute here." He grabbed a pencil and pad of paper from the conference table and rapidly began scrawling some complex mathematical formulae. He worked intently for at least fifteen minutes. Finally Scully said, "Professor?" "Oh, sorry, I forgot that you were here," he said with an apologetic smile. "All right. Yes, theoretically, it is possible to build in a 'directional factor'. I can't explain the physics of it to you, and there's a lot of data correlation I would have to do to be certain, but I believe that it is possible." "You're saying that you think there's a way to continue the experiments that would guarantee that other 'doors' would stay closed, and you could open the door to the specific reality you wanted to explore," Mulder said. Neumann nodded. "Theoretically, yes." "Professor, how many people are involved in your experiments?" "Myself and my assistant, Dr. Karen Mather, are the only ones with complete knowledge. I bring others in as I need them to run certain equipment, record results, that kind of thing. They're usually grad students, looking for either money or academic credits. Actually, it's possible for me to perform most of the experiments with just my assistant." "Could you please excuse us, professor? Just for a minute?" Mulder asked. "Certainly. I'll arrange for that electronic surveillance sweep. I'll call from my office." They watched him leave. "Mulder, what do you-", Scully began. //No, Scully, like this\\ Mulder's thoughts came through to her mind clearly. //What do you think?\\ //I think he means what he says, Mulder. I think he'll try to eliminate the risk of opening another door like the one to the Dark Realm. But just because he has good intentions doesn't mean it's possible.\\ //I know. The safety of the Realm has to be the number one priority, that goes without saying. But I hate the idea of that door closing forever. And there's the practical aspect. I think it is very unlikely that we could convince Professor Neumann to just drop his life's work, and that of Dr. Mather. Short of blowing up the building with everyone in it, I think the best we may be able to hope for is to convince him of the need to protect the Realm from contamination by other realities, our own included. Limited exchange is one thing, contamination is something else. Do you think we can trust him to take the same care we would?\\ //Well, I certainly think he's not likely to bring in the NSA or any other government organization, which is to his credit. As to the safeguards to prevent undesired 'leaks' between realities, I think he'll do his best. His fascination and curiosity could get the better of him, though. He might decide to go ahead with an experiment even if the safety factors are not all that they should be. He reminds me of you a little, Mulder - I think he sometimes lets his fascination come before good sense. Don't you think he might tend to let his enthusiasm run away with him?\\ Professor Neumann knocked and entered the conference room to find Mulder and Scully silent and looking at each other intently. He carried Scully's purse, left behind when they tumbled into the Vortex. //I don't think so. First, I might risk my own skin, but I wouldn't risk anyone else's, and I think he's the same. I don't know why, but I trust this guy. I'd like to know a little more about his assistant, though.\\ Mulder smiled. //This way of talking is going to come in real handy, Scully.\\ She smiled back. //Yes, well, right now Neumann is looking at us like we just arrived from Mars, so you'd better say something.\\ "Sorry, Professor, just thinking," Mulder said. "What can you tell us about your assistant, Dr. Mather?" "She's in her late forties, has been here since she was an undergraduate. She's been like a daughter to me and I'd trust her with my life. She, too, has had her share of grief from government sources. I had mine in Germany as a young man under the Nazis; she had hers when her father was hauled up before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the fifties. She continued in the family tradition by being arrested frequently during anti-war protests here in Cambridge in the sixties and early seventies. She has an almost pathological reaction to government control. In other words, Mr. Mulder, I think you'd like her. You will forgive me, the chief of the recovery team yesterday went on in some detail about you." Professor Neumann grinned. Mulder grinned back. "All very complimentary, I'm sure." He looked at Scully, felt her mind. "All right, Professor, we don't really have much choice other than to trust you. Just remember - the people of the Realm are like family to us. We will not take it kindly if they get hurt." The necessary warning given, he crossed to where the sack lay on the table. "If it helps you to make them more real, look at these." He pulled the tapestry and swords and some of the other gifts from the bag. Scully joined the men at the table, and Mulder and she explained the gifts, their use, their significance, to a fascinated Neumann. At times in their story, one or the other would be overcome by the memories and have to stop to regain control, while the other went on. Eyes shining with wonder and emotion, Professor Neumann looked at them when they had finished, and spoke with sincerity. "I give you my word, the Realm will not be placed in any further jeopardy by my experiments. I am only sorry for the damage caused by our ignorance. Rest easy, Mr. Mulder, it will not happen again. Dr. Mather will agree." He offered his hand, which Mulder and then Scully solemnly shook. ~ ~ ~ The rest of the day went by in a surrealistic blur. They collected the rental car and drove back to the hotel. It had taken Scully a moment to remember how to operate the car, and driving, like everything else - sounds, sights, smells - seemed both strange and familiar. When they got to the hotel, they changed into sweaters and jeans, rediscovering the most mundane things with a momentary flash of surprise - zippers, running water, flush toilets. Then, Scully finished packed their belongings while Mulder put in a call to Skinner at the Bureau. He gave a quick summary of the status of the case, hoping Skinner would not ask too many questions until he had had a chance to think up more plausible answers. "I'd like you and Agent Scully to report to me in person on this matter, Agent Mulder," said Skinner in his typically closed manner. "I'll be in meetings for the rest of today and a good part of tomorrow. Be in my office with Agent Scully on Friday morning at 9 a.m. sharp." "Yes, sir. By the way, I injured my knee. I'm just going to have it checked out up here before returning." He heard Skinner's sigh of impatience. "Agent Mulder, do you have a death wish? Is there some reason that you are unable to complete a case without ending up in a hospital?" "Just bad luck, sir." "Alright, just follow Bureau protocol. You should be familiar enough with it." "Yes, sir." Mulder hung up with a sigh of relief. At least now they had some time to think. Checking out of the hotel was next, and doing so as though they had only been there for a couple of days added to their disorientation. But they made it to Mass. General and then on to the airport without mishap. Mulder was not happy about squeezing onto a plane with his damaged leg, but luckily their flight was relatively empty. A flight attendant, taking pity on Mulder with his knee now encased in a Velcro splint and being impressed by the FBI ID, showed them to some empty seats in the nearly deserted first class section where he would be able to stretch his leg out more comfortably. Scully shot him a dirty look when he gave more than passing thought to using the device every time they flew. The entire flight and the drive back to Mulder's apartment was the same bizarre mixture of familiarity and strangeness. On one level, flying in a jet and driving a car were things that were accepted, that they did every day. But in a way, their minds were still very much in the Realm. Every stimulus brought a sort of double-take of response - the first response from the mindset of the Realm, one of wonder and surprise and newness; and the second one, almost of tedium, accompanied by a depressing suspicion that their whole stay in the Realm had been a figment of their imaginations. On their arrival in Washington, Mulder's eidetic memory was, not for the first time, invaluable. After the passage of nearly a year in Realm-time, Scully had no idea where they had left the car in the multilevel parking garage. After finally locating the car, they found themselves facing the massive culture shock that was Washington traffic during rush hour, resulting in a long and frustrating drive to Mulder's apartment. After Scully drew up to the curb outside his building, they sat motionless for some time, then looked at each other and smiled, both a little uncomfortable. "I know it's stupid to feel like this," Scully said. "I guess this is kind of what I meant when I said that I don't associate the places in this reality with our being together." "You can go back to your place if you want, Dana. If you don't feel ready for this here." Mulder's eyes were calm but he had pulled down a light shield, so Scully knew he was not quite as equable as he appeared. "No! No, I'm just being silly," she said firmly, as if trying to convince herself. "Anyway, I'd have to drive your car home and I don't think it would be a good idea to have your car parked outside my apartment all night." "It's been there before, when we've been working on a case, and your's has been over here all night. Let's not get morbidly sensitive about all this." Mulder smiled. "Discretion is one thing, paranoia is something else. Besides, I'm the one that's supposed to be paranoid enough for the both of us." They got out of the car, Scully carrying the sack and bundles, Mulder leaning heavily on his crutches as they slowly made their way up the walk and then up the steps to Mulder's building. "Better use your keys, Scully. Mine were in my jacket pocket and I think they fell out when I was fighting with a soul- eater." They looked at each other, trying to make sense of the concept of battling one of those hideous creatures, while standing in the middle of Washington D.C. "This is going to take some getting used to," admitted Mulder. Scully used her key to open the outer door, and when they got upstairs, the door to Mulder's apartment. Once inside she put the bundles down on the floor out of the way. He hung his jacket on the coat rack, then took hers and did the same. Then he hobbled into the living room, fed his fish and tapped on his computer to check his e-mail. "Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully stared at him. "I - I'm sorry, Scully. What? I'd carry you over the threshold, but in my weakened condition -" "I don't mean that. How can you do that? How can you just go around doing what you normally do when you get home?" The tone of her voice was strained, the pitch high. He crossed to her, caressed her cheek with his hand, and motioned her over to the couch. His expression was a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Sit down, Dana. Tell me what's bothering you." "After all that's happened, how can you act so... normal? Things happened to us that have never happened to anyone else! Ever! There's a whole other world out there, and twenty four hours ago, we were in it! How can you just come in and feed your fish?" She felt the sense of disorientation, of strangeness, threatening to overwhelm her. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. He shrugged helplessly, it was hard for him to explain. Now that he was back in his apartment, he just found himself doing the things he was accustomed to doing in these surroundings. "I always feed them on Wednesdays. What would you like me to do, Scully?" "I don't know. Something - I don't know." She was trembling now, a single tear dripping down her right cheek. "It's all right, love," He smiled tenderly, reaching out to wipe away the tear, then gathered her close. "It's a lot of changes to absorb all at once. I can understand how you feel." He held and rocked her, letting his understanding flow through their life- bond until he felt her start to relax a few minutes later. "Better now?" he asked gently. She nodded. "Sorry." "You don't have to apologize," he assured her lovingly. "Mulder, if you trot out that nauseating line from "Love Story" about love meaning never having to say you're sorry, so help me, I'll sprain your good knee," Scully said grumpily, then sighed. "I am sorry, though. I don't usually become a basket case. Why are you dealing with it so well?" Mulder laughed. "Is that an implied insult, Scully? Like, why isn't Spooky being spooky? I've been wondering about that myself. I don't know. Maybe it's because the abnormal seems more normal and less threatening to me than it does to you. I'm used to living with the idea that there are strange things out there." "There's strange, and then there's what we've been through, which is way, way beyond strange," she reminded him. "Yeah, I know," he responded. "Beats me. It's not often I get yelled at for being normal. Maybe it's something in the bond that won't let us both be crazy at the same time." He smiled at her and gently smoothed her hair. "Are you staying?' he asked quietly. "Yeah, I'm staying." "It's up to you. Only if you want to, if you feel ready." //I love you.\\ //I know, I love you, too, but you don't have to stay to prove it.\\ Scully looked into his eyes as she brought her lips to his. She kissed him tentatively at first, as if he were new to her instead of the man who had been her lover for months. Her hands lightly traced his face, his hair, his neck. Mulder sat very still, his arms around her. Gradually her lips became hungrier, demanding and receiving more of a response. His hands twined in her hair, his mouth covering hers until he wrenched it away to nibble on her neck. Scully's hands were in constant motion, now flying to his sweater and under to trace his ribs, to feel the skin of his chest. "I wish I could sweep you off your feet and carry you into my bedroom," he murmured. "But in my weakened condition..." His eyes twinkled. Scully's hands never stopped their exploration. She smiled. "Apparently not all that weakened..." ~ ~ ~ "Mom?" Dana tried hard to control the shaking in her voice. "Dana, hi! You don't generally call on a Thursday, especially not at this time of the morning. Is everything all right? You're not sick, are you?" Mrs. Scully's voice deepened with concern. "No, Mom, everything's fine. What's new?" Scully's hands trembled as she listened to her mother babble on about Melissa's new boyfriend and the latest adventures of her brother's kids and all the other things that she usually only half-listened to while entering a report into her PC. Today, Scully listened to her mother's rich voice, picturing her in the cozy kitchen of her house. "Look, Mom. What are your plans for this weekend? I was wondering if Mulder and I could come up for the weekend, if there's nothing going on at work and you're not busy." "Of course, dear, you know you're both always welcome." Her mother's voice took on a cagy tone. "One or two?" Dana chuckled. "One, Mom." Her mother's usual question; *not* her usual response. "Oh! Oh, okay, I'll see you late Friday night, then, all right? Bye, Dana, I love you." Dana could almost see her mother's smile through the phone. "Love you too, Mom. Bye." Scully laughed out loud. She had to hand it to her mother. She had really tried to play it cool, but there was just no hiding the delight in her voice. She wandered back out to join Mulder in the kitchen. "How's your mom?" he inquired. "Fine. I think I scared her, calling on a weekday morning." "Is it okay for this weekend?" Mulder looked up from buttering toast to meet her eyes. "Yeah, fine," she replied, sitting down at the table. "Does she know...uh, is it going to present a problem that..." He couldn't hide the anxiety in his voice or his mind. "She's thrilled!" Dana grinned. "You have no idea how long she's been making my life miserable. Every time we'd visit, she would always call ahead of time and ask me if she should prepare one room or two, becoming increasingly disappointed every time I said 'Two.' I think I just made her day." Mulder smiled with open relief. "Good, I'm glad she approves. Your mom means a lot to me, and I wouldn't want her to think I was corrupting her baby girl. So what are our plans now?" A slow smile spread over Scully's face. "It occurs to me that I still haven't had that long-overdue shower," she said provocatively. Mulder dropped the toast he had been munching on, and reached for his crutches. "Who's corrupting whom?" ~ ~ ~ After a long, and very pleasant interlude in the shower, they got dressed and drove over to Scully's apartment. She was grateful Mulder was with her when she went inside, for stepping back into the apartment which looked exactly as she had left it brought another rush of tears to her eyes. The same pile of dirty clothes was sitting in the same basket by the bathroom door, the same pile of bills sat on the living room table, right next to the novel she'd been reading. She felt simultaneously like she'd been gone forever and hadn't been gone at all. Mulder caught the edges of her emotions and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, taking a deep breath. Mulder knew she wasn't feeling 'fine' but he also knew this was something he was going to have to let her deal with it her own way. "Why don't you go ahead and unpack," he suggested, "while I borrow your phone." "Who are you calling?" she questioned, picking up her suitcase and walking towards her bedroom. "The nearest barber shop" At her arched eyebrow, he smiled and fingered his hair. "Want to try to explain *this* to Skinner?" he asked. ~ ~ ~ "Why do I always feel like I'm Daniel, stepping into the lion's den?" asked Mulder softly, his hand on the doorknob to Skinner's office. "You ready?" Dana nodded and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing." He opened the door and let her precede him, encumbered as he was by the crutches. They took their accustomed seats in front of the desk. Skinner looked at them - and looked again. "Have you two taken some vacation time lately? You look different, like you've been working out in the outdoors and gotten a tan. Did you ski while you were up in New England or something? Is that how Mulder hurt his knee?" Skinner's eyes narrowed, trying to pin down exactly what it was about them that appeared so damn different. They were dressed as usual, Scully in a neat red suit, Mulder in a well-tailored blue suit, disgraced by one of his horrendous ties. Scully's bright hair was bound professionally in a neat knot, Mulder's was sheared to bureau-standard length; and their expressions were calm. Other than the apparent suntanning of their skin, there was nothing he could put his finger on, and yet he knew instinctively that *something* was different about them. "No, sir," Scully said blandly, eyes guileless, just as she had practiced. "The only day we took off was yesterday, and we called in per protocol." "I only ask because Colonel Frost, the head of the Recovery Team from Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, Massachusetts, spent a day and a half up at that lab at MIT and never once saw you." Skinner's gaze was piercing. "We were pursuing various lines of inquiry, sir. We did speak extensively with Professor Neumann," responded Mulder. "Yes, I know, he mentioned it." "Have you been checking up on us, sir?" demanded Scully, nettled. Skinner gave them a long look. "I had a question about something on Tuesday. I was trying to get ahold of Mulder to get an answer, and couldn't. In view of the fact that Mulder has a habit of disappearing from time to time on projects that have little to do with his assignments, I think I was justified in being concerned, Agent Scully." "It's all in the report, sir," Mulder said, passing him the file. "I believe we spent much of Tuesday at the Chi Phi fraternity house, tracking down the group of pranksters that perpetrated this little stunt." The report was a masterpiece of distraction and subterfuge and half-truths that had taken them hours to put together the previous afternoon. Skinner skimmed through the report, then closed it and gave them a fishy stare. "So it's your opinion that this whole thing was a student prank then?" "Not opinion, sir," stated Scully. "It's borne out by the facts as we have presented them in the report." "So I see," said Skinner, sounding rather dubious. "Is there anything else, sir? Anything new come up while we were away?" asked Mulder. Skinner looked at him, still at a loss to explain the change in the agent's appearance. Perhaps it was the way he held himself - but was he more relaxed, or more tensed, or even more confident? Unable to identify the difference, Skinner forced himself to concentrate on the discussion. "No, Agent Mulder. I sent back a couple of reports to your office that need some more exposition. Other than that, I don't have anything for you right now." He paused, appearing that he wanted to say something, or ask something. Instead, he said, "All right, you may go" and pressed his lips together in a disapproving line. They were almost out of the room when he said "Agent Scully?" The two of them froze, and slowly turned around. "Agent Scully, have you lost some weight or something?" Skinner looked so puzzled that she was hard-pressed not to laugh. "Yes, sir, a few pounds. Thanks for noticing!" They turned and fled before Skinner could think of any more questions. Leaning back in his chair, the Assistant Director stared at the closed door for a few long moments. He had little doubt that he had just been lied to, but their story matched the official reports from the military recovery team. Nonetheless, he knew those two agents well enough to know that something had happened - something they obviously weren't willing to talk about. That fact, in and of itself, was enough to make him worried. It was far more Mulder's style to shout the 'truth' from the rooftops, the more bizarre the better. If *Mulder* was unwilling to report it.... Skinner sighed and, removing his glasses, rubbed his eyes... then he was quite certain he was better off not knowing. Not that he wouldn't keep a close eye on those two agents. But then again, he always did. ~ ~ ~ Entering their basement office, Scully tossed her coat and briefcase onto her chair and turned to face Mulder as he plopped himself down in his chair, leaning back to place his feet on the corner of the desk. "Do you think Skinner believed us?" she asked, pushing his feet aside to give herself space to perch on the edge of the desk. "No." Mulder said bluntly. "But he *has* to accept our report. It matches the official story, and there's hardly anything objectionable in it." They both grinned with amusement, it had been - deliberately - the most 'ordinary' field report they had ever written. "I wonder what he would have said if we'd tried to tell him the truth?" Mulder spoke pensively. For all the pleasure he usually got out of being outrageous, this time he felt the need to keep their unusual experiences private, if only to protect their life-bond - and the friends they had left behind. "He'd probably have had us both thrown into a rubber room," Scully replied with characteristic practicality. "Yeah," Mulder agreed. "In straight jackets." They shared a moment of silent laughter, then sat quietly. Mulder let his eyes wander around the room, feeling much like he was slipping into an old, but very comfortable pair of shoes. Much more than his apartment, this room really felt like home. A smile flirted with the edges of his mouth as he glanced up at his favorite poster, the one of a flying saucer with the big bold slogan, "I want to believe." "What is it?" Scully asked aloud, even as her mind reached out instinctively to brush the edge of his. "I'll miss our friends," he said, his smile widening into an engaging grin. "But it really is good to be home." End of Chapter Seventeen ========================================== Epilogue Two months later The late spring heat wave and the boats on the Charles were just two of the changes they noticed in their drive from the airport to the MIT campus. But the stark, utilitarian complex where Neumann's lab was located looked no different than when they had last seen it two months earlier. Mulder took the steps two at a time, waiting impatiently for Scully to catch up. //I'm coming. You really don't have to run, you know.\\ //I know, I'm just anxious to find out what's going on.\\ They found the prep room door without difficulty, and Dr. Mather answered their knock immediately. No need for ID's this time, they solemnly exchanged handshakes and went into the lab, closing the door behind them. "When was the last time you saw him?" asked Scully sympathetically. Dr. Mather smiled. "The day before he left. He preferred to have no one here when he went, so he programmed the equipment in advance." Mulder and Scully exchanged long looks, and then he turned to Dr. Mather. "The FBI was notified by the authorities at here at MIT that Professor Neumann had disappeared, and that it was possible that foul play was involved. Are you saying that that isn't the case?" "That's exactly what I am saying, Mr. Mulder. When was the last time you heard from him?" Mulder thought. Ever since he and Scully had returned from the Realm, they had communicated regularly with Professor Neumann. He frequently asked questions about the people and places of the Realm, and they would regale him with stories of their experiences, or painstakingly explain various facets of the culture. They had even provided him with crude maps, and diagrams of the castle and the layout of their room. The Professor was always eager and grateful for the information, and it was very cathartic for Mulder and Scully to be able to talk about the place they still missed so much with someone who was interested, understanding, and who didn't think they were crazy. "We exchanged e-mail about a week ago, and we spoke on the phone three or four days ago. Why?" "He went through to the Realm, didn't he, Dr. Mather?" Scully said it quietly but with a sureness that Mulder had never known to be misplaced. She nodded. "About a month ago he found the 'directional factor' he had been looking for. Well, he can probably tell you better than I." She handed Mulder an envelope and went out to the prep room, closing the door behind her. Mulder turned the letter over in his hand. It was addressed to him and Scully in Neumann's tight scrawl. Exchanging concerned glances with her, he tore open the seal, pulled out the letter and began to read: Dear Mr. Mulder and Dr. Scully, "I've left instructions with Karen to give you this after I've left. I'm sorry I couldn't share my plan with you. I don't think I finally decided to do it until a couple of days ago, and then I was afraid you'd try to talk me out of it. The directional factor is a reality - on paper. There's no way to test it without sending a human through the Vortex. Ever since I first saw Tarnor, I've been obsessed by the prospect of visiting the place where such a creature could come from. I can't describe how envious I was of you both when you returned from your adventures in the Realm. And in a few moments, I shall begin my own adventure. I have kept my word. All possible safeguards have been built into the system. An aside that you may find interesting, even comforting - some of my experiments have shown time to be fluid (actually, 'gel' might be a more accurate expression). Based on this, I believe that the time factor you experienced, of thirty six realworld hours to approximately one Realm year, almost surely is not a constant. Thus, in spite of the passage of time since your return, it is my belief that I will find your friends much as you left them. I wish there had been another way to do this without attracting the suspicions of some of the groups we would just as soon avoid. When you receive this, Karen will begin to construct a very elaborate paper trail which should allay the fears for my wellbeing and any questions as to my whereabouts for several weeks to come. She has also been instructed to provide you with whatever documentation you need for your reports. I'm bringing some gifts from our world, carefully chosen to avoid contaminating their culture. When I return, we shall get together and I'll bring you news of your friends. I shall give your love to Jourdain and Aldara, to Reinald and Andalor, and of course to Tarnor and Corvay, and tell them how much you miss them. Wish me luck. Gunther Neumann End of The Magician ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ THE PROPHECY: Long past the years of Poor Harvest When peace has returned to the Realm And the People no longer cry out in Sorrow and Unrest There will be a time of Great Plenty and Calm. Cherish the Grace of the Land, For when the moons have turned ten score and ten, The End will be near to hand; And Darkness awaits for the children. Upon the Land a Dark Shadow will feast Upon the hearts of men a sickness will lie. Mothers will scream in the mouth of a beast. And their children will sicken and die. And the fruit will rot on the branch, And the fields will run red with blood. And the grain will wither upon the stalk. And the waters will rise in a flood. No man shall hold Kingship alone or in part. Divided the Council shall stand. Treachery will turn within a noble heart. And sudden storms will sweep the land Deep within the Great Woods the Beasts will roam. No longer shall innocents call this their home. Yet, even as the Dark takes hold upon the Realm Deep, deep within the great woods, >From that same source the evil floods, The Travellers will come. Travellers who seek the truth. Travellers whose hearts are pure. Travellers whose strength will bind the right. And bring salvation to the light. Mage to mage, the power draws. Blue to Blue, together fight. Brown and Green, the Healer's art is found within a soldier's heart. Mage of Realm and Mage Beyond Join your powers in the night. Woman, born to be a Mage's bond, Soldier, Healer, lead the fight. Night will fall before it's done Shadow grow and death be strong Only when the two are one. Will the Dark be gone. -----------------------------------------------------------------------