THE DARK QUEEN
The Magician - Book Three
by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)

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See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files
belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the
remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright

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Chapter Twenty

        Their final lesson over, Mulder and Scully sat across from
one another at Hannu's table, tired but happy. The ordeal of
breaking the bond-spell followed Hannu's lessons had given them
the physical and emotional trial of their lives.  But they had come
through it, healthier in body and mind than they had ever been
before.
        Jasta moved at the hearth, fixing their noon meal with a
grace and ease of movement which belied her advanced years.
Watching her, the auburn-haired warrior wondered once more about
the friendly but unusual village.  When the little elf had departed
from the cottage after serving, Scully decided to satisfy her curiosity.
With a smile she said, "I remember asking you about the villagers
when we first arrived.  Are you willing to tell us more now?"
        Hannu returned her smile somewhat ruefully.  "I was not
particularly cooperative, as I recall.  Well, I will tell you what I can.
Their stories belong to only them, of course.  It would not be proper
for me to tell you their stories without their permission.  I'll tell you
what I believe is appropriate.  If I cannot satisfy all your questions,
you may ask the villagers.  I believe most would be willing to share
their stories.  You'll find them friendly and as curious about you as
you are about them.  As you can imagine, we don't get many
visitors.  Nor do we encourage them.  But once you are here, you are
one of us.
        "Montveil is a place of refuge.  All of the beings here, or at
least their ancestors, came here looking for peace, a safe harbor that
existed nowhere else."  He anticipated Mulder's question.  "Yes, I
know.  Except for recent history starting with the invasion of the
Dark Creatures, it appears we have enjoyed a peaceful, well-ordered
existence.  But there doesn't have to be war for beings to long for...a
higher plane of existence, if you will.  Here we have freedom from
politics and the commercialism of the towns and larger villages. We
have all chosen to set ourselves apart."
        Mulder nodded.  "That's why there aren't any roads wide
enough for traders' wagons. In fact, why you don't have any wagons
in this village."
        "Precisely.  Nothing needs to be carried anywhere.  Our
needs are few, and we produce enough to fill those needs ourselves.
In years of bad harvest, I use my talents to make sure there is
enough for all.  And it isn't just the traders, with their preoccupation
with business.  We have freedom here from family expectations,
arranged marriages, even the dictates of our auras if we so choose.
We don't seek news of the outside world, and we don't want its
influence.  We merely wish to be left alone, to be able to spend our
lives in contemplation, and in the some cases, to heal ourselves of
wounds inflicted by the world."
        "Is there a common belief system?" asked Scully,
fascinated.  "You have so many species here, it's hard to imagine
everyone would hold similar beliefs."
        "The only commonality is a deep love of personal freedom,
including freedom from the rigid etiquette and ritual of the Realm.
Our only tenet is to do no harm to another being's right to be as he
or she wishes."
        "Are they free to leave?"
        Hannu nodded.  "A few have left.  When they have gained
the inner peace they sought and feel ready to rejoin the world, they
move on.  Most don't, finding the outside world has nothing to offer
them any longer. They have what they need here."
        "But...don't you worry about security?  I mean, what stops
those who leave from telling everyone about this place?"  Scully
queried.
        The Mage shrugged.  "Nothing, I suppose.  No one has left
in a very long time, certainly not since I came here.  As far as I
know, no one is even thinking about it.  We remain secure.  I like to
think that it is because those who left so valued their time here that
they would not want to jeopardize it for those who remain. Of
course, " he admitted wryly, "it could also be that the village doesn't
offer enough financial or political gain to motivate anyone to seek us
out."
        Mulder looked at his host appraisingly, trying to determine
if his question would upset the relationship they had been building
with this man in the course of their lessons.  "And why did you
come here?" he asked softly.
        Hannu considered the question.  "The elves have a saying.
'How can I wear clothing when you have been naked before me?'
The details surrounding my coming here are still painful, even after
season-cycles of trying to come to terms with it.  But I have seen
your pain, it is your right to see mine.
        "At the climax of the battle with the Black Mage, forces of
incredible power were released.  Neither of us was holding anything
back, neither of us was considering safety or anything besides the
total annihilation of the other.  Something...happened.  I don't know
what, nor, I suspect, does my enemy.  Everything became a
whirlwind of color and then suddenly, I was consumed by blackness.
        "When I awoke, I realized I was somewhere else.  A world
of wonder, but also of chaos and darkness and eye-burning
brightness.  A frightening place, a place that might well have killed
me."  He broke off and stared into the middle-distance of the cottage
for some time.  "I had the great good fortune to come under the
protection of one of the other-worlders, a female, who sheltered me
and taught me what I had to know.  Somehow I survived, becoming
quite close to the one who was my savior.  But I was never free of
the longing to return home. Then, when I did, it was by accident, as
traumatic as my leaving the Realm.  In many ways," he murmured,
almost to himself, "perhaps even more so."  He was silent for several
moments.
        "Anyway, I found myself back in the Realm - to  this day I
don't know exactly where - surrounded once again by the familiar.  I
started walking, dazed, not really having a destination in mind.  As
I walked through villages, I would notice new and different things,
hear snatches of conversation that didn't quite make sense, changes
in the language.  After wondering for a while if I had indeed
returned to my birthplace, I came to realize although I was back in
the Realm, an inordinate amount of time seemed to have passed
since I left. A difference in time I could not explain.
        "I kept wandering, looking for I know not what.  Eventually
I came here, or I should say, this is as far as I got before I collapsed.
The villagers took me in.  It was winter and I was still traumatized
by my abrupt departure from the other world and delivery into this
one.  I hadn't had the wits to eat, and I wore only the clothing I had
on when I was thrown from the other world, certainly not enough
for the cold weather. The villagers knew nothing about me, but they
took care of me - Jasta herself healed me, though it took a long time.
Oh, they knew I was a Mage, at least the elves did.  But they did not
know I was Hannu, battler of the Black Mage.  They knew only that,
sick in body and spirit, I needed help, and they freely gave it.  When
I was better, I began to get to know everyone, and decided to stay.
My spirit was not yet healed, and I welcomed the retreat from those
who might know of me.  As the season-cycles passed, I began to use
my talents to help the villagers - and admittedly, to help myself.  I
put in place certain 'protections' to prevent unwanted outsiders from
entering, and to prevent my old nemesis, if she still existed, from
knowing my whereabouts until I was again ready to do battle.
        "So time passed.  I became stronger, useful, even derived
some small degree of happiness.  The irony is that while in the
world of Chaos, I longed to return to the Realm.  Since back, I have
longed for nothing more than to return to the woman I left there."
        Quiet consumed the little cottage as he turned to his own
thoughts.  Scully realized her eyes had filled with tears while Hannu
told his story, and felt Mulder's hand upon her cheek, ready to wipe
away any that threatened to fall.  His mind was in hers, filling her
with waves of comfort and peace.  Hannu gazed at the lovers, a soft,
sad smile playing at the corners of his lips.  Without a word, he rose
and left the cottage, seeking solace of his own in his special place.
                                        - - - - -

        Ballorca's wide posterior bounced as he bustled importantly
down the stone corridor and out to the courtyard.  Shuddering
slightly as he surveyed the storm beyond the edges of the shield, he
reached the Great Hall and tugged open one of the huge, iron-bound
doors.  Everywhere, beings were at work, putting the finishing
touches on the scrubbing and polishing.  Later, he would oversee the
decoration of the huge ceremonial hall.  The seamstresses were just
finishing the banners - the green and gold of Andalor's family and
the scarlet and pale gray of House Ranfaus; measures and measures
of long silken bunting, to be swathed over and around the beams of
the majestic ceiling and the columns supporting it.  Everything must
be perfect for the betrothal ceremony, the Minister of Protocol
thought.  Despite the unseemly squabbles of the villages, despite the
cursed weather, everything must go perfectly.
        The elements were not cooperating, Ballorca thought
sourly.  Still, he had managed to organize a flawless coronation, had
he not?  Even with notice so short he barely had time to disperse the
riders to all parts of the Realm with the invitations.  And that had
gone off without a hitch.  The young king had done an excellent job
reciting the ritual, most everyone had behaved themselves, the food
and music and wine had been beyond criticism.  He patted his
rounded tummy.  Yes, it had been flawless.  And this would go
equally perfectly.
        "Is that dust I see?" he called, outraged, to no one in
particular.  "And over there by the platform - the floor does not
shine enough!  Naroc, put your back into it!"
        Ballorca's words were greeted with grimaces, smirks, or
shaken heads, but all the servants bent to their tasks with renewed
vigor.  The Minister of Protocol was difficult to deal with, at the best
of times fussy and inflexible.  But he never failed to organize a
perfect affair.  Besides, it was easier to conform to his wishes than to
listen to his ranting, or worse yet, his interminable stories of how,
fifty season-cycles before, the servants had worked better, longer,
and more efficiently.
        Yes, Ballorca promised himself.  He would set new
standards in how things should be done.  It would be a betrothal
ceremony to remember.
                                            - - - - -

        Andalor gently closed the door to Reinald's chamber and
wandered the corridors lost in thought.  It couldn't go on much
longer, that was clear.  As it was, Reinald and Tarnor had managed
to maintain the shield longer than anyone had expected. The shield
held still, protecting the castle inhabitants from the freakish weather
and Goddess knew what else.  Outside the shield, fierce storms had
raged for days, to be followed by a day of blazing heat that wilted
vegetation half-drowned the day before.  A brief but violent
thunderstorm intervened, and close on its heels a snowstorm that lay
a mantle of white beyond the courtyard walls.  That had disappeared
in the heavy rains that followed, bringing floods to villages already
decimated by interspecies battles.
        Now Reinald and Tarnor slept, having renewed the shield
yet again.  Less sleep than coma, Andalor thought grimly.  For the
past few days, they had had to renew the shield more often as their
powers weakened from the drain of their creation.  The first shield
had lasted more than two days.  The last had begun to soften and
waver after only a dozen candlemarks.  After renewing the shield,
both of the Mages had collapsed, unconscious.  Sirisa found them
seriously weakened and they had been carried once again to
Reinald's chambers.  The healer did what she could, but her abilities
were limited when dealing with Mages and the effects of their power
use.  She only shook her head, and warned Andalor that another
attempt could well prove fatal.  He had some time to decide what to
do, but precious little.  His alternatives were laden with risk.  To
allow them to renew the spell again?  The Mages could perish in the
attempt.  To fail to renew the shield?  The foul weather was the least
of their worries. Without the shield, there was nothing to prevent
their enemy from killing anyone in the castle.
        He stopped by Shannon's room to check on Kyla's progress.
The young king opened the door, experiencing the symptoms he
always did here - his heart skipping a beat and a longing tearing at
his insides.  Where was Shannon now?  Was she safe?  Was she
even alive?
        He poked his head in the door.  "How is she?"  he
whispered.
        "She awakens for longer periods, but remains very weak.  I
have done what I can, Your Majesty."  The healer sat clothed in her
brown robes at the slumbering Kyla's bedside.
        "I know, and we're all grateful, Healer Sirisa.  Will she
recover fully, do you think?"
        "If given a chance to heal at her own pace."  The healer
smiled sadly.  "She stands as good a chance as any one of us."
        Andalor sighed and nodded, only too aware of the meaning
of Sirisa's words.  As he continued down the hall, he considered the
tension which gripped the entire castle.  Everyone down to the
kitchen servants now knew the cause of Corvay's death, and the
terrible importance of the shield that separated them from a similar
fate.  Rumors flew.  One had reached Andalor that Reinald had
expired of exhaustion, causing the horrified king to tear from his
bed to the Mage's quarters, only to find him sleeping peacefully.
But that was days ago. Now deep unconsciousness replaced healthy
sleep.  Feeling older than his years, he knocked at Mandor's door
and entered.
        Mandor and his wife and daughter were quartered in the
small ballroom.  The head of House Ranfaus and his daughter had
taken the rough accommodations with good grace.  The servants'
hall, however, resounded with tales of the latest whining of Norilka,
his wife, who had grown up surrounded by luxury and was
accustomed to spending her days in indulgent idleness.  One look at
the noble and Andalor could see that he was about ready to saddle a
horse to speed his wife on her way back home, storm or no.  As if
she would.
        "Your Majesty, welcome.  Bristok, some tea, if you please."
The troll nodded and began preparations at the hearth.
        Norilka remained standing after the king had taken a seat.
Fanning herself dramatically, she spit out, "Don't make any for me."
        "That's not a problem," Bristok muttered under his breath.
        "If I don't get out of this room, I shall suffocate.  By your
leave, Your Majesty, " she said, in a tone that made it clear that she
was leaving, whether he gave his consent or not.  He nodded and she
swept from the room.  Mandor relaxed visibly with his wife's
departure, and Livirnea appeared embarrassed over her mother's
behavior.
        "Please excuse Norilka, King Andalor.  She has been
spoiled all her life and has little tolerance for what she perceives as
hardship.  Speaking for Livirnea and myself, we are most grateful
for your kindness in offering us the protection of your castle."  Tea
was poured and tasted, then the noble went on, "News from House
Ranfaus is not good.  There has been extensive flooding in the area,
and numerous assaults in the village.  And, " he continued heavily,
"two murders in the headquarters of the house itself."
        "None of it is their doing, "  Andalor replied softly.  "Try to
remember that."  He paused.  Livirnea, mistaking the cause of his
hesitation, stood.
        "If you wish to speak to my father on matters of the Realm,
I can leave you to it."
        "No, stay, Livirnea.  This concerns you as well and I know
you well enough to value your counsel as much as your father's."
The pale young girl nodded and sat again next to the king.  "I'm
sorry to say that things are becoming quite grim.  Reinald and
Tarnor are unconscious. I have no idea if they will awaken by the
time the shield starts to fail.  Even if they do, Sirisa has informed
me that the next attempt to renew the shield spell may well kill them
both. That's why I'm here... I don't know what to do."
        Mandor's brows drew together.
        "Bad tidings, indeed."
        "You can't let them try again," Livirnea said decisively in
her low, melodic voice.  "Even if they were successful in renewing
the shield, it would last only six point eight
candlemarks...approximately..." she trailed off.  At Andalor's
startled expression, she smiled guiltily.  "Professor Neumann and I
have been keeping track.  He has introduced me to mathematics, by
which one can predict such things, with even more accuracy than a
seer.  Andalor, the risks are greater than the possible benefit.  The
potential sacrifice of their lives will bring us only a brief period of
protection.  Simply put, it's not worth it."
        Andalor nodded.  "And what say you, Mandor?"
        "I agree with my daughter.  Perhaps even if the shield fails,
no harm will come to us.  Reinald and Tarnor would be throwing
away their valiant lives for nothing.  And indeed - if they died trying
to protect us, would that not be another victory for our enemy?"
        "Well spoken.  You're correct, of course, Mandor.  I felt
that way myself, but I am too close to Reinald to trust myself to
decide objectively.  Thank you, as always, for your wise counsel.
Very well, when the shield fails, it fails.  We shall let the Mages
rest.  They have done enough."  He stood and extended a hand to
Livirnea.  "Now, with your permission, sir, I would ask for your
daughter to join me in a walk around the battlements."
        Mandor rose.  "Of course, Your Majesty.  With the
betrothal ceremony tomorrow, I'm sure you have much to discuss.
By the way, have you heard from Mage Mulder yet?"
        Andalor's polite smile died.  "No. Not yet," he said tersely.
"Livirnea?"  He took her arm in his and the couple left followed at a
discrete distance by her Elven maid.
        Moments later, they had climbed to the battlements.  The
sky had grown brighter and the rains had finally stopped outside the
shield.  It felt odd to be there, high on the walkway adjoining the
guard towers, and feel no wind, no chill, no dampness.
        "If the weather holds, we might be treated to a sunset later,"
Livirnea remarked.  She glanced over at the king, who was gazing
out over the wall, lost in thought.  "I'm sure she's all right,
Andalor."
        Startled, his head jerked around to face the pretty girl.
"What?  What did you say?"
        She gave a low, musical laugh.  "I said, I'm sure Shannon
is all right.  That IS who you're thinking about, isn't it?"  At his
guilty expression, she shook her head.  "It's all right, Andalor.  I
don't mind, I honestly don't.  I want you to be happy.  You've
already made me so happy.  My studies with Professor Neumann are
fascinating.  I don't know when I've been more excited and
stimulated.  I'm more sure than ever that my future lies in science.  I
think I've even surprised the Professor with how quickly I've caught
on."
        He smiled warmly at her.  "I'm sure you have, Livirnea.  I
never doubted that you would excel under his tutelage.  I'm so very
happy for you."  He paused.  "How...um...how do you know about
Shannon?"
        "I often go to the kitchens to escape my mother's tantrums,"
she giggled.  "Sometimes I even help knead the bread or wash the
vegetables.  My mother would faint if she knew what I was doing -
that's what makes it fun.  She doesn't believe ladies should do
anything with their hands except needlework, or possibly play a
little on the lute.  Anyway, the servants have grown used to my
being down there.  At first they were careful what they did and said,
but now that they know me, I hear all sorts of things.  Several days
ago I was entering the kitchens as an animated discussion was
taking place, arguing the relative merits of Shannon and myself, and
how she was sent away because you and she were getting too close."
        "Not entirely true, but true enough," admitted Andalor.  "I
don't think I understood what I felt, or how much I felt until she
left."  He chuckled wryly.  "An odd conversation to have on the eve
of our betrothal."
        "Not really," Livirnea smiled.  "We both know the whole
thing isn't real.  Do you think there's any chance at all...?"
        "That they would call off the betrothal, and let Shannon
and me...?"  He shook his head.  "Not a chance.  The Council of
Representatives would never allow it.  Besides, Reinald's been
through so much with the shield spells and Corvay's death and all, I
have to go through with this and be as happy as I can be about it for
him.  He's the only family I have.  And there's your reputation to
think of.  What would happen to you if the betrothal were canceled?
Someone might think it was because of some flaw in you, and I
would never put you in that position.  I do value our friendship, you
know."
        She smiled.  "I know.  And I wouldn't care about the
betrothal, and any gossip.  My mother would never get over it, but it
really doesn't matter to me.  I'm sorry, Andalor."
        He brushed back a pale strand of her hair that had escaped
its braid. "It's not your fault."
        "Oh, I know that.  I just feel like I'm getting the best of the
bargain.  I'm getting what I want more than anything in the world -
a chance to study with someone really brilliant."  She leaned against
the top of the wall, resting her chin on her arms and surveying the
green landscape.  "You know, at the beginning of my visit here, I
would look out my window and watch the warriors-in-training out
on the practice fields - you know, Shannon and the other girls.
Andalor, I envied them so much.  They were so alive, and they had a
purpose in life.  After their training they would be USEFUL.
Meanwhile, I was being taught to sit like a lady and to make polite,
brainless, useless chatter and to try to attract a mate 'befitting my
station in life'.  I doubt that I have any warrior talent, but I would
have changed places with any of them in a heartbeat."  She tilted her
head to one side to look at the young king.  "Now I have my studies,
a chance to be useful, doing what I love.  And I have that only
because of this betrothal.   It makes me feel sad for you."
        He was touched by her sympathy for him.  "Don't feel sad,
Livirnea.  Look at it this way, I could have ended up betrothed to
Hortensa."  They laughed together.
        "Or Gurtolle?" she asked teasingly.
        "Sweet Goddess!  What have you heard in the kitchens
about Gurtolle?" he yelped.  "Never mind, I don't want to know!
No, no fear there.  I doubt the Council of Representatives would be
comfortable with a queen who has seen the majority of them naked
and knew their deficiencies first-hand."
        They laughed again, then gradually became quiet, locked in
their own thoughts.  "I'm just sorry you can't have what you want,
too,"  Livirnea whispered.  She reached over and clasped his hand.
        Andalor brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed it
before enfolding it in his own.  He looked down on his kingdom
with deep violet eyes.  "At this point, I'd be happy if I just knew she
was safe."
                                        - - - - -

        "...we'll have to get going on it when he comes back.  Oh,
Hannu!  Good!"
        The Mage closed the door behind him and took a seat near
the bondmates.  "What can I do for you?"
        "Scully and I have been talking.  While the time taken to
learn to control our bond was necessary, it also postponed the
primary purpose of our journey here - the protection of the Realm by
the defeat of the Black Mage.  Now we have to move as quickly as
possible.  Is there anything you can think of that might help?"
        Hannu shook his head.  "I have been thinking about it,
from the moment of your arrival.  As I told you earlier, I threw
everything I had at her.  I hurt her, I could see that, but as far as
killing her or rendering her powerless?  No.  Nothing I knew then or
know now is enough."
        Scully sighed.  "Well, we'll just have to get back to
Fairwoods and hope that there will be strength in numbers," she said
fatalistically.  "That the combined power and talents of you two, plus
Reinald and Tarnor, might make the difference.  We've been
holding off communicating with everyone back at the castle, hoping
we'd be able to give them the news they've been praying for, but ....
Mulder, why don't you get the crystals from the bag?  We can at
least let everyone know that we found Hannu and that we're safe."
As Mulder went for the saddlebags, she went on.  "It isn't the answer
they were looking for, but I guess we don't have any better one to -"
She broke off at Mulder's shout.
        "Scully, the scroll!  I forgot all about it."  He pulled the roll
of parchment from the saddlebag and sat near Hannu on the bench
by the table.  Carefully he unfurled it and set some heavy pottery
bowls at the corners to keep it flat.  "Reinald gave me this scroll,
Hannu.  He said it was extremely old but is believed to have some
importance.  As you can see, except for this short passage here, it's
written in strange symbols, the meaning of which has been lost over
the season-cycles.  Reinald said that there had been periodic
attempts to translate it, all of them unsuccessful."
        Hannu surveyed the scratches and squiggles on the scroll.
"I know of this.  It's called the Laetara scroll, from the caves it was
discovered in ages ago.  It was legendary even when I was young,
but I never had the opportunity to study it.  Now that I see it for
myself, I must say we're no better off.  I haven't a clue what it says."
        Mulder couldn't disguise the excitement in his voice.  "But
I do!  Have a clue, I mean.  I just wish I had thought of it earlier
than I did.  I have an eidetic memory - I remember everything I
read.  When we were on our way here, we stopped off in Goodearth
Caverns.  In the caves I noticed some frescoes with odd symbols.
Later, looking at the scroll, I finally recognized the similarity.  By
that time, however, there wasn't a gargoyle in sight, and we were
unable to locate one that spoke Garsintil for the rest of our journey."
        "You  know, I've been thinking about that," interjected his
bondmate.  "If those symbols are Garsintil, why didn't Tarnor
recognize them?  He undoubtedly speaks the language - his
childhood home was decorated with the symbols and his mother's a
linguist."
        "I'm sure he speaks Garsintil, Scully.  But I think it's very
possible that Tarnor has never seen the scroll.  Reinald had to hunt
for it himself and the chest he finally found it in looked like it hadn't
been opened in eons, judging by the layers of dust and the creaky
hinges.  I think either Reinald forgot he had it, or it just never
occurred to him to show it to Tarnor.  After Reinald gave it to me, I
packed it away.  Tarnor came in later, but he never saw the scroll."
        "I hate to burst your bubble, Mulder," she persisted, "but
what about other gargoyle Mages?  During all that time, there must
have been a gargoyle Mage who took a look at it."
        "Maybe not.  Remember what Mikora, the village elder,
said?  Mage-talent is very rare in gargoyles.  Plus, they tend to stay
close to home and with their own kind.  And even if there were a
few gargoyle Mages scattered around, who's to say they were in a
locale where they would have gotten a chance to look at the scroll?"
        "Maybe."  Scully sounded far from convinced.
        Hannu studied the scroll in silence for a few moments.
"You said the symbols are similar.  How similar?"
        Mulder considered the question.  "These seem more ornate
than the ones in the cave.  But the flow of the lines, those odd
curving marks, there,"   he said, pointing.  "Those are all very close
to what I saw in the cave.  I mean, isn't it possible that the scroll is
written in an archaic form of Garsintil?"
        "Oh, of course it's possible.  I have one question, however.
If you suspected you recognized the language of the scroll, why did
you not cast a language spell to test your hypothesis?"  He looked at
the younger Mage and a silence fell over the chamber.
        Mulder appeared stunned for a moment, then covered his
face with his hands.  "Because I never thought of it," he groaned.
"Damn, I'm an idiot!"
        Playfully, Scully ruffled his hair.  "Come on. Smile,
Mulder!  It's not like the scroll was the only thing on your mind.
Between the Black Mage trying to kill us in a dozen inventive ways
and the physical problems we were having with our bond, I'm
surprised you knew which end was up."
        Laughing, the older Mage said, "Don't be too hard on
yourself.  Would you care to do the honors, or shall I?"
        "You go ahead," he mumbled, still mortified.
        Hannu closed his eyes for a moment, then raised his arms
to shoulder height.  He spoke in the tongue of Mages for some time.
Scully thought she felt a slight tingle ripple through her, then felt it
echoed back from Mulder through their bond.  The Mage dropped
his arms.  "All right, let's take a look at this now."
        While the scroll appeared to be unchanged, Scully found
that she now had the capacity to link the symbols with the sounds
they represented.  "Yacho no slarish," she read. " 'Not in our time' -
is that right?"
        Mulder nodded.  "That's what I got out of it.  Hannu?"
        Distractedly, he grunted his assent as his eyes devoured the
writing.  "Apparently, this is some sort of prophecy.  It's not going
to be easy, though, getting some meaning from this.  The language
spell works well, but it's limited.  Only those words that have a
direct correlation in New Realm will translate properly.  The others
either won't translate, or the meaning the spell gives them might be
skewed.  If it was indeed written more than a twelve hundred
season-cycles ago, a lot of words have passed from use since then.  I
see several words here that aren't translating.  And if I remember
correctly, the literary style of the day was so woven with symbolism
that it was exceedingly difficult to understand."
        "Well, maybe we can figure them out by the context," said
Scully doubtfully.
        "The only way we'll know is to work at it.  It may take some
time, but I think it will be worth it.  There's something in here we
need to know, I'm sure of it."  Hannu left the room briefly and
returned with parchment, brushes and ink. Then they got down to
work.
        For the next two candlemarks, the three poured over the
scroll, their scrutiny punctuated by debates over the exact
interpretation of a word or phrase.  Without doubt, Hannu's unique
first-hand knowledge of the language patterns of ages past was
invaluable.  But Scully found the lapses in the language spell
frustrating, reminiscent of when they had first arrived in the Realm
and were dependent on the language spell for communication.  It
had been better than not being able to communicate at all, but had
still motivated them to learn New Realm as soon as possible.
        Finally Mulder threw down his brush.  "Okay," he said
wearily, rubbing his eyes.  "Let's see what we've got.  Shannon!
When did you get here?"
        "Oh, about a candlemark ago.  Thanks for noticing,"  she
smiled sweetly.  She put a platter of meat and bread and vegetables
in front of him.  "I made dinner, I thought you might be hungry
when you finally came up for air.  Besides, I figured that Jhorgab's
whining would disturb your concentration."
        "I was not whining," the troll retorted, insulted.  "I was
merely pointing out that a great deal of time had elapsed since I last
ate."
        "You were whining," the teenager said flatly.  "So what's so
spellbinding?"
        Hannu's amber eyes twinkled as he looked up at her.
"Interesting choice of words.  We were translating the scroll that
Reinald gave Mulder."
        "That's what was so fascinating that you couldn't take your
eyes off it?" she asked incredulously.  She turned back to the hearth
for another platter, muttering.  Scully alone caught her words and
giggled.
        //She said some people need to get a life,\\ she explained in
response to Mulder's questioning look.
        Shannon and Jhorgab finally joined them at the table and
they all began eating.  "All right, so what's up?"  she asked,
munching on a stalk of what looked like purple celery.  Jhorgab
raised an inquisitive eyebrow but otherwise kept his attention
focused on his plate.
        Mulder smiled.  "Get ready to be enlightened, whether you
want to be or not.  This scroll is apparently some sort of prophecy,
written who knows how long ago - well over a thousand season-
cycles, at least - by some being who was a seer."
        "Undoubtedly a gargoyle," offered Hannu, between bites.
"And not only because it's written in Early Garsintil.  As elves are
noted for their inherent talent in magic, gargoyles have always
produced the prophets with the most accurate vision."
        "So what does this prophecy say?" she inquired.
        "Scully, would you mind reading so I can eat?  I'm starved."
She took the parchment with a smile as Mulder applied himself to
his meal.

           " 'Not in our time but in the twilight of our march
           there shall be a foul odor which blankets the land.
           All light shall cease, consumed by darkness,
           all that survives shall be in bondage, in thrall to the
night.
           The very gods shall tremble,
           and the skies weep and rail.
           But rivers of tears shall not cleanse the land of the stain
of spilled life
           Nor the stench from once-sweet vapors.

           From the swirl of time must he come, as in a feverdream.
           Be he like the Archer, with his quiver and bow.

           Archer, may thy first clear blue arrow be the ancient
powers,
           long forgotten. So hold thy hand upon the beasts and
elements.
           Yet, sufficeth this not, for the strength of the dark will
sap the power of light
           like the ' - something - ' drains the ' - something.'

           Perish not thy hope and thy resolve
           The black of night may yet be vanquished by the blue
skies of day.

           Mark well thee my words, here writ in tears,
           oh thee that hath come seeking.
           Use well and true the elusive powers,
           But have also in thy quiver two more arrows
           as pure-blue as the sky
           The next, the Guardian shall speak' - something -
           'that lights a candle against the dark.

           Then, draw thee the third and strongest of the arrows -
           straight, piercing, one with the blue-cloaked Archer.
           Loose it from thy bow, this last and best arrow, this' -
something -
           'which outshines the deepest night.
           By this way only may the dark be sent
           into the void of eternity
           and banished from our suffering land.

          Heed thee well my words,
          lest my vision be in vain and all perishes from the land.' "

        "Great.  But what's it all mean?" asked Shannon, puzzled.
        "It means," said Scully, "that it's time to get in touch with
our friends back at Fairwoods.
                                        - - - - -

        The two Mages sat huddled by the fire, wrapped in thick
woven lap robes while Andalor hovered anxiously nearby.  Pouring
out the restorative, Sirisa handed each Mage a mug.  "I've put a little
something extra in this.  Drink it up."  She looked sternly from
Tarnor to Reinald.
        Meekly he took a sip, then grimaced.  "You do my friend
Corvay one better, Healer Sirisa.  This is truly the most vile stuff I've
ever been forced to drink."
        She smiled brightly.  "Ah, a good sign - you're strong
enough to complain."
        "Go on, Reinald, drink it," Andalor urged.
        "Well, only because I have to regain my strength to renew
the shield spell."  Wrinkling his nose, the Mage tipped the cup back,
missing Andalor's set expression.  When he had emptied it and set it
down on the table next to him, the king cleared his throat.
        "Reinald...there will not be another shield spell."
        "Andalor, don't be difficult.  There must be another
renewal.  Now, we will hear no more about it."
        "I will not have you and Tarnor risk your lives further.
You have done well - very well - to keep our enemy at bay.  But now
is the time to stop.  Before this spell costs us more than we have
gained.  I have sought Mandor for counsel, and he agrees.  No
more."
        "But Andalor, without the shield any one of us is helpless
against our enemy," Tarnor said.  "Any one of us, any time, could be
cut down.  You're the king, you must be protected."
        "And if you both die in the next attempt, who will there be
to protect me then? I need you both alive and well if we are to have
any chance to pull the Realm back together."  He left the center of
the room and walked over to them.  He appeared very young and
very vulnerable.  "Not to mention the fact that I love both of you
very much, and could not bear to lose you."
        In a voice that disguised well his lack of strength, Reinald
declared, "We have survived thus far, we shall continue to do so, eh,
Tarnor?"  The gargoyle weakly nodded his large gray head.  His
ears, normally pointed skyward, hung limply around his face.
        "No one can fault your courage, Mages, but your common
sense is lacking," commented Sirisa candidly.  "Mage Tarnor, you
would certainly not survive the next attempt.  And I doubt that Mage
Reinald would either."
        "That's it, then," replied the young king.  "The shield will
fail in a few candlemarks.  When it does, there will be no attempt to
renew it."
        "Andalor!  You are not being reasonable!  You are not
thinking of the Realm," argued the Royal Mage.
        "The Realm is precisely what I'm thinking of," Andalor
said softly.  "I'm thinking of the mess it is in, and how it would be
impossible to clear up that mess without your support and advice
and talents."
        Stubbornly Reinald shook his head.  "The renewal will take
place when the present shield begins to waver.  That is the way it
must be."
        Andalor sighed and crouched beside the man who had been
his guardian and protector since he was a small child.  "Reinald, I'm
sorry.  I have never used my rank against you, but this time it
appears the only way you will listen.  As your king, I am
commanding you.  There will be no renewal of the shield."  As the
Mage's mouth popped open in shocked protest, the young king said
gently, "That was a direct command, Royal Mage.  The command of
your king.  Obey it."  There was silence in the spacious chamber.
When at length Andalor saw that the Mages had accepted the
command, however grudgingly, he stood and said in a brisker voice,
"Good!  Now, I must see Ballorca.  He has something he's upset
about - but then again, he always does."   He started for the door.
        "Andalor, wait!"  The young king turned.  "Have we heard
from Mulder?"
        Somberly, the king paced back to the hearth.  "No.  Not a
word.":
        There was a knock at the door, and at the call to enter the
Professor popped his head in.  "Ah, Your Majesty.  I thought I
would just check on the welfare of my partners in crime."  He
completed his entry and shut the door.
        "Ex-partners, Professor Neumann.  There will be no more
shield spells."
        The Professor nodded and looked relieved.  "Thank you.
Did it take an act of the Council of Representatives to make the two
most obstinate Mages in all the Realm come to their senses?"
        Andalor chuckled.  "It took more than that  - my
command."
        He nodded approvingly.  "Good.  I was not looking forward
to being an accomplice in their deaths."
        "Sit down and have some tea, Gunther.  Sirisa, would you
mind?  Pitir is sitting with Kyla at the moment."
        "Not at all, Mage."
        "And not that filthy muck you last gave me."  The healer
stifled a chuckle and turned to ready the tea.  "All right, Andalor.
What are we to do then?  Since we are not to renew the shield - and
it wasn't fair making it a command, by the way; you knew I would
have no choice but to obey - and since we haven't heard from
Mulder and Scully yet, what do you suggest we do?"
        "I believe the time has come to use the Oracle Cloud to
contact them.  We have to know if there will be any assistance,
either from them, or from Hannu if they have managed to find him."
        "I agree,"  Gunther said.
        "As do I," sighed Reinald.  "I must admit to being
extremely anxious about their welfare."
        "Have you the strength to use some power to activate the
Oracle Cloud?"  Gunther asked.
        Reinald was about to answer when he was interrupted by
Sirisa, holding out mugs.  "He will when he has had a second mug
of my restorative,"  she said.  He scowled and took the mug from
her, recoiling as the odor of the steam reached his nostrils.
        "Bah!! Why is it you healers never let well enough alone?
Is it part of your training, I wonder, to -"
        "Reinald, look!"  Tarnor was sitting up and pointing to the
table in the center of the chamber, a fearsome grin on his face.
Under its silken blue shroud, the Oracle Cloud glowed brightly.
        "Quick, help me up," urged Reinald.  With the assistance of
the Professor and the young king, he staggered from his chair to the
table and swept the cover from the large crystal ball.
        "Reinald?  Reinald, are you there?"  The voice sounded
very far away, and the vapors in the glass swirled and dipped.
Together Tarnor and the Royal Mage closed their eyes, opened their
hands and muttered a few words.  Gradually, Mulder's face
coalesced into view.  "Reinald, Tarnor.  Is that you?  My God, what's
been happening there?  You two look awful!"
        "Mage Mulder!  It's wonderful to see you!  Is Scully there?"
        "Hello, Reinald!" a familiar voice called from the distance.
        "Yes, she's here.  And Shannon."
        "All right!"  Andalor exulted quietly, pumping his arm in a
gesture he had seen Shannon use.
        "And Jhorgab - oh, I forgot, you don't know him.  He's
someone we kind of picked up on the way.  And someone else."
Mulder's face moved from view, to be replaced by that of a man in
late middle age, with a salt and pepper beard and silver hair.  The
blue aura of a Mage shimmered around him.
        "Do I have the honor of addressing the Royal Mage
Reinald?" said the man in a deep pleasant voice.
        "Goddess!"  Reinald gasped.  "Is it possible?  You do,
Mage.  And do I have the incredible good fortune to be addressing
Mage Hannu?"
        The lips parted in a wide smile to reveal even white teeth.
His amber eyes sparkled.  "I can't speak to your good fortune, but
yes, I am Hannu."  All conversation stopped as a cheer went up in
Reinald's quarters.  Even the normally reserved Professor was
almost dancing with joy and relief.  They finally turned back to the
Cloud.  Hannu had his back turned to the crystal, conversing with
someone out of sight.
        "What's going on?"
        "It appears they are celebrating, Warrior Healer Scully."
He returned to the crystal.  "One moment, Mage Reinald.  Warrior
Healer Scully wishes to speak with you."
        "Reinald!  Goddess, it's good to see you, but  - you look ill!"
        "Let me assure you, Scully, I am much better than I was
before you contacted us."
        "As you can see, Reinald, we found Hannu." Mulder stood
close to Scully so both could see and be seen in the crystal.
        "And the other part of your mission?" he inquired
delicately.
        Mulder smiled.  "Mission accomplished, as they say.  And
Reinald - we've translated the scroll.  Most of it, anyway.  And we
might have some insight into how to deal with our enemy." His
voice throbbed with barely controlled excitement.
        "Goddess!" breathed Tarnor, gripping the king's arm.  "We
have a chance now!"
        "Reinald, I don't think we want to waste time traveling
back on foot.  What's the possibility of Gating us back?"
        "I know for certain that we can't afford to waste that
amount of time.  Much has transpired in your absence."
        "None of it good, it appears," Mulder said grimly.
        "Certainly not much of it.  But I must confer with our
friends, here, about the Gate."  Reinald's form moved out of view,
and the Professor took over.
        "Both Reinald and Tarnor are severely drained, Mulder.
They have been using their power to construct a shield to protect the
castle from our enemy.  A radical step, but a necessary one, after the
tragedy."
        A scuffling was heard, and Shannon burst into view.
"Andalor!  Andalor, are you all right?"
        "I'm here and I'm fine, Shannon."  He grinned, absurdly
pleased that she had been worrying about him.  Shannon retreated to
the background, muttering about men being more trouble than they
were worth, and that Andy had better wipe that smile off his face,
she hadn't been worried about him personally, far from it....
Mulder smothered a smile lest his halla take offense, then turned
back to the crystal he held.
        Reinald finally reappeared.  "All right, we can help Gate
you back, but I'm afraid you and Hannu will have to take the brunt
of the power expenditure.  What Gunther said was true, Tarnor and
I are somewhat depleted at the moment.  We should have recovered
somewhat by the time the shield fails.  When will that be, Gunther?"
        "Approximately two point seven candlemarks."
        "Mulder, we can't bring you in through the shield.  By the
time it goes down, Tarnor and I should be replenished enough to
anchor the Gate, but I'm afraid you won't be able to count on us for
any more than that."
        There was a mumbled discussion out of view of the Oracle
Cloud.  Then Mulder reappeared.  "That won't be a problem.  Hannu
and I will handle the actual Gate construction from this end.  Just
anchor the Gate on your end and we should be fine.  When do you
think - say, three candlemarks?"
        Reinald looked around at his companions for consensus.
"Agreed.  Send us a flash with one of the crystals when you're ready
to begin.  Just enough to light the Oracle Cloud.  We'll take that as
your signal."
        "Great.  Reinald, it will be wonderful to be back."
        "It will be wonderful to have you back.  Three candlemarks,
then.  Take care, Mulder."

End of Chapter Twenty

THE DARK QUEEN
The Magician - Book Three
by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@AOL.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@AOL.com)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

See the Prologue for detailed Disclaimer and Author's note. The X- Files
belongs to Chris Carter, the Realm, all of the other characters, and the
remainder of this story are solely our own invention, copyright 1996.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Twenty-One

        "Are we all packed up?  Shannon?  Jhorgab?"  Scully made
a last minute check of everyone's belongings as Hannu strolled over
to join the group in the gathering twilight.
        "The village has been warned to expect some Mage
histrionics," he remarked dryly. "The healer is with the more magic-
sensitive beings to forestall any ill-effects from the creation of the
Gate."
        Mulder nodded.  "I guess we're ready then."
        "Are-are you s-sure we need to do this?" stammered
Jhorgab.  "Speaking for myself, I wouldn't mind the journey back on
foot.  Lots of fresh air, beautiful scenery....  I'm sure we could all use
a nice walk."
        "A nice fifteen day walk?  I don't think so,"  Shannon
retorted.  "Now stop being such a wimp and get over here."
        Scully patted the troll on the shoulder kindly.  "It's all right,
Jhorgab.  Your part is easy.  Just stay with Shannon and be ready to
move when I tell you."
        "Yeah, just think.  Dinner is probably waiting back at
Fairwoods.  Dinner at the castle, from the Royal Kitchens.  Food fit
for a king,"  tempted Shannon.  "Does that help?"
        "Somewhat," said the troll dubiously.  "But there better be
plenty of it!"  Still nervous, he attached himself to Shannon's side.
        "Okay, everybody ready?"  Mulder took a crystal from the
pouch hanging from his belt, grounded himself, and concentrated.
After a few moments, he dropped it back into the little sack.  "They
should have gotten the signal by now and hopefully are on their way
out of the castle."
        "Wait!  Don't you have to talk to them, to be sure they're in
position?"
        "That won't be necessary, Shannon,"  smiled Hannu.  "It
will take us a little time to create the Gate on this end.  Besides,
while Mulder and I are casting, we'll be able to communicate with
the Mages in Fairwoods.  Just be ready to move when Warrior
Healer Scully tells you to."  At her nod, he and Mulder withdrew a
few paces from the group.
        Facing each other, they stood stock still, eyes down, arms
very slightly raised with palms up. Then their lips began to move
and their auras went from bright to blinding in a flash.  The others
raised cupped hands to their eyes, trying to shut out the fierce
illumination yet still see what was transpiring.  The cadence of the
Old Realm words sent shivers of anticipation down their backs, as
louder and louder the Mages chanted.  Bass blended with baritone in
a song of power, of space and of time.  Barely perceptible through
the glare of white-blue, bars of energy encircled their arms, coursing
down to emerge from their fingertips as barely controlled bolts of
raw power.
        Now, their arms gradually ascended in perfect tandem.
Lightning cut across the twilight heavens as if in envy of the Mages'
power.  With a hoarse shout, they flung their arms upwards to the
offended sky, a huge broad tower of pure energy leaping from their
hands and up as far as the travellers' challenged eyes could see.  The
Mages trembled with the forces they were unleashing and trying to
control, bending the dazzling ribbon of energy into an arc.
        "Almost. Almost," Scully muttered.  "Hold it steady."
Loudly, she called to the others above the roar and whine of the
energy and the rumble of thunder.  "Be ready!  It won't be long
now!"  Shannon and Jhorgab clutched their saddlebags in awe as
Mulder, with a swift downward movement of his arm, sent one end
of the shaft of power deep into the earth.  A moment later, Hannu
swept his hand toward the ground, burying the free end of the arc
beneath the soil.  A perfect, glowing archway, six meters high and
three meters across, stood before them.
        Suddenly, there was a slight waver in the brilliance.  Not so
much that anyone would normally notice, but Scully was a veteran
of Gating.  She also had the advantage of being in Mulder's mind.
Her presence there was a light one, not enough to distract the Mage,
but enough to be party to his communications with the Mages in
Fairwoods.  Buffeted by a sudden wind, she yelled to Shannon and
Jhorgab, "Something's wrong!"
        Mulder and Hannu shuddered with the effort of creation
and control of the incredible power of the Gate.  Mulder slid his eyes
toward the older, more experienced Mage, who held his gaze as the
gale whipped their cloaks about them.  Then he blinked.
        Scully shouted to the others, "Something's interfering with
the Gate at the other end.  Reinald and Tarnor can't anchor it
properly, and - NO!"
        The idea was in his mind and he had acted upon it before
she could stop him. Suddenly, a moment after Hannu had blinked,
Mulder was through the flickering arch, and was gone....

        ....Reinald and Tarnor struggled with the last of their
strength to control the Gate.  One end was planted firmly in the
earth before them.  The other lashed and twisted wildly in the air,
like some monstrous incandescent cobra, threatening to destroy not
only the Gate but its creators as well.  Tauntingly, the shaft of power
curled once more toward the ground.
        "Aaaaeeeeiiiii - oooph!"  Mulder dropped inelegantly to the
ground from a height of five meters.  Ignoring the stabbing pain in
his ankle, he stood up quickly and grounded himself.  Regaining his
concentration almost immediately, he joined the other Mages,
adding his voice, his power to the chant.  The glowing ribbon
straightened, steadied.  With a final tremendous effort, Mulder
mentally seized the end and drove it deep into the earth.  The
brilliant arch's light burned steady at last.  Moments later, Scully,
Shannon and Jhorgab ran from the Gate, with Hannu close behind.
Exhaling, the Mages in concert stopped the flow of energy.  The
archway faded and finally disappeared.
        Tarnor and Reinald collapsed to the ground as if they had
been clubbed.  Aldara and Pitir raced to lift the gargoyle, while
Jourdain stooped to cradle the unconscious Royal Mage in his arms.
"To Reinald's chambers, quickly!  The healer is already there!"
        Over her shoulder Aldara called, "Shannon!  Take the
Mage and your troll friend to the castle and find them rooms.  If
anyone needs a healer, send a servant to the Royal Mage's quarters."
        Mulder staggered and fell to his knees, panting, sweat
running down his body.  Scully reached his side first, quickly
entering his mind and body as a healer.  Frantically, she searched
through neurons, prodded muscles, trying to assess the toll of his
power expenditure, and his impossible desperate trip through a
partially anchored Gate.   Except for a badly sprained ankle, he was
exhausted, but otherwise intact.  For professional reasons, she
withdrew from his mind before giving him a piece of hers.
        "Goddamn it Mulder, if you ever do anything like that
again, I'll kill you myself!  Just what the hell did you think you were
doing?" Hannu approached her, pale and shaky but still on his feet.
        Mulder shook his head and tried to speak, but emitted only
incoherent gasps.  Reaching out to her with his mind, he found he
lacked the energy necessary for even that most natural form of
communication.
        "Don't, Warrior Healer Scully,"  said Hannu softly.  "He did
what he had to do, rash as it may seem."
        "Oh, this goes way beyond 'rash', Hannu,"  she fumed,
turning her furious gaze his way.  "Way beyond headstrong, past
foolhardy, all the way to damned stupid!"
        "You're being very hard on the man who just saved all of
our lives."
        Eyes flashing, she cooled a bit and waited for the Mage to
continue. "A Gate is a very tricky thing.  When Reinald and Tarnor
were unable to completely anchor their end, it was imperative to
reassert control as quickly as possible.  The instability would have
increased, leaching the power from a controlled form to float free in
the air.  Once that happened, there would have been a tremendous
explosion that would not only have killed all of us, but also taken a
good deal of the castle and my village with it."
        Somewhat mollified, Scully reached down to assist her
bondmate to his feet.  Shannon rushed to his other side while
Jhorgab gathered their belongings.  "But why is it always you,
Mulder?"
        Leaning heavily on their shoulders, still fighting for breath,
he looked down at his bondmate.  "Had to be...one of us....  And
I...thought of it...first."  He gave her a wobbly grin before his eyes
rolled back in his head and he passed out.

                                        - - - - -

        She hardly heard the knock through her own sobs.  "Go
'way!"
        "Lady Shannon, it is I, Jhorgab.  And I shall certainly not
go away.  There is to be a meeting in Reinald's chambers in one
candlemark, and he wants you there.  Shannon?  Shannon, are you
all right?  I am coming in now."  He opened the door swiftly and
went in, closing it softly behind him.  Shannon was sprawled face-
down on the bed, trying to control the wracking sobs that shook her.
"Lady Shannon, what is it?  Has something happened to Mage
Mulder?"
        "N-no.  Just go away, Jhorgab.  I don't feel like visitors
right now."
        "I am not a visitor," he retorted loftily.  "I am your friend."
He cocked his head sympathetically.  "I think I can guess what it is.
You know about the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, don't you?"
        "I guess I was the last to know," she said bitterly.  "I feel
like such a jerk.  Here I was, losing my head over him, and all the
time I was just fooling myself.  God, I wish I could die."
        With some difficulty and little grace, Jhorgab levered
himself up to sit beside her on the high Realm bed.  He put out a
tentative hand and gently patted her head.  "Don't feel that way,
Shannon.  From what I heard in the servant's quarters, he has no
wish for this match, he was forced into it."
        "Yeah, right."  With her head buried in her arms, the reply
was muffled.
        "I would miss you very much if you were to die.  Who
would answer all my questions, and see to it that I was fed as often
as I need?  You can't die, Lady Shannon.  Think of how upset Mage
Mulder and Warrior-Healer Scully would be."
        She sat up with a groan, wiping her eyes and sniffing.
"That was meant to be taken figuratively, Jhorgab, not literally.
Who is this girl, anyway?  Did you hear anything?
        "Oh. Well, I am very glad you will not die then.  No, I have
heard that she is small, though still too tall for my liking. And
pretty, though again, far too scrawny and delicately featured for true
beauty. And that all the servants seem to like her very much.  But
they are split into two warring camps - the ones who support the
lady to whom the king will become betrothed, and those who wish
the king were free to choose you."
        "Yeah, well, it's a pity the king didn't get a little input from
them before he decided to get engaged."  She sniffled.  "I feel so
stupid."
        Jhorgab's yellow eyes were softly sympathetic.  "I don't
know anything about the ways of the heart, Lady Shannon.  But if it
helps, I'll always be your friend."
        "Oh, Jhorg!"  She threw her arms around him and he
gently folded her into his.  "What am I going to do?"
        Awkwardly, the little troll patted her shoulder.  "You're
going to be all right, Shannon.  It will get better.  I promise."
                                          - - - - -

        I'm in heaven, he thought.  I've died and I've gone to
heaven.  He wriggled comfortably, the silky sheets gliding along his
skin.  Then he felt a slight jarring and sensed his bondmate near
him.
        Scully stretched herself out next to him, her arm supporting
her head.  "Welcome back.  Feel better after your nap?"
        "Great."  He reached out to stroke her face.  "Still mad at
me?"
        "Yeah.  A little."  She sighed. "If you could just give
someone else a chance to be the hero once in a while, Mulder, I'd
breathe easier."
        "I'm sorry, love.  Not sorry that I do what I do, because
that's just me.  I'm just sorry I don't stop to consider its effects on
you.  It's both our funerals if I get myself into something I can't get
out of."  He toyed with an unruly auburn lock which had escaped her
braid.  "How are the other Mages?"
        "Hannu's fine.  He's been touring the castle with Andalor.
Aldara stopped by a little while ago, just to say that Reinald and
Tarnor are out of danger but are still being watched like a hawk by
the healer."  She sat up cross-legged on the bed, a perplexed
expression on her lovely face.  "Mulder, something's going on.  I can
feel it.  Something's happened that we don't know about."
        "Ah, the famous Scully intuition again.  Aldara didn't say
anything else?"  His stomach rumbled loudly.  He looked down in
amazement.  "I thought only Jhorgab could make noises like that.  Is
there any chance of -"
        There was a knock at the door, followed immediately by
Shannon's entry.  Her eyes were red and her cheeks were
tearstained. Leaning against the door, she said tonelessly, "There's
going to be a late supper and a meeting in Reinald's chambers as
soon as you can make it."  She turned and had her hand on the latch
ready to leave when Scully's voice stopped her.
        "Shannon!  Are you all right?"
        She whirled back to face them.  "Who, me?  Oh, sure, I'm
all right.  I'm friggin' great!  Why should I care if the idiot goes and
gets himself engaged while I'm gone?"  The tough facade suddenly
crumbled, and she was in tears again.
        Scully sent her bondmate a stricken look.  //You want me to
deal with this, or do you want to?\\
        //Want to, no.  Feel that I have to be the one, yes.  Toss me
some shorts, love.  I can't get out of bed like this.\\
        Scully pulled some dark blue satiny shorts from the huge
armoire and tossed them to her bondmate.  She stopped to give
Shannon a hug in passing, then left the room, closing the door
gently behind her.
        Pulling on his shorts, Mulder slipped from between the
sheets onto the cold stone of the floor.  His ankle felt much better -
his bondmate had evidently been at work while he slept.  He crossed
to Shannon and put an arm around her shoulder, leading her to the
comfort of the hearth.  He had known that this moment would,
inevitably, come, but knowing it didn't make it any easier to deal
with. "I'm sorry, baby.  I know it hurts. I wish there were something
I could say to make it better."
        "What's there to say?"  she choked out.  "Obviously he
doesn't care about me the way I care about him."
        "I don't think it's obvious at all," said Mulder.  He sank into
one of the deep, oversized armchairs and pulled her into his lap,
cradling her head against his shoulder.  "I think he cares a great
deal about you."
        Shannon gulped, trying hard to control herself.  "Yeah,
right.  As soon as my back is turned, he gets engaged.  Some way to
show his feelings." She sniffled and a new wave of tears followed.
        Mulder let her cry it out, stroking her hair, murmuring
comfortingly.  When she had quieted, he asked gently, "How did you
find out?"
        "Overheard the servants.  Tomorrow is the betrothal
ceremony.  The whole castle is buzzing with the news."
        He frowned, then slowly began speaking.  "You know,
Shannon, Andalor has been brought up from day one to do his duty
to his subjects.  It may seem like a wonderful life, being waited on,
living in a castle, having people look up to you and treat you special.
But he has had to pay for that every moment of his life.  Never has
he been able to consider only himself, to do whatever he wanted to
do.  He has always had to put his duty first.  That's why he ran away
to our world in the first place - to try to escape that duty. I think he
learned from the experience that he couldn't.  But it's a crushing
responsibility for a young man of his age.  Now that he's back, he's
trying to do the best job he can."
        "He could have done something if he wanted to badly
enough," she insisted tearfully.  "Avoided getting betrothed, or-or
maybe even p-picked m-me."
        "I know you feel that way.  But Shannon, some things are
inescapable, no matter how much you may want them to be
different.  Andalor's job is one of them.  If there had been any way at
all, he would have found it.  But no matter what Andalor wants, his
first priority is and must always be the Realm.  Any marriage would
have to be blessed by the Council, and he knew they would never
approve a marriage to you."
        "What am I, something that just crawled out from under a
rock?"  she wailed.
        Mulder smiled.  "No.  You are a very beautiful, intelligent,
spirited and talented young woman.  But you're not part of the
nobility.  And even more importantly, you aren't exactly 'from these-
here parts'.  It's not generally known where we come from - you and
the Professor and Scully and I.  Only a few beings at the castle and
Prince Mavor know where we're from.  It's better that way.  What do
you think the Council's, or the Realm's, reaction would be if you
tried to explain that you come from another world entirely?  It would
be as unthinkable as if...as if Prince Charles wanted to marry a
Reticulan!"
        She snorted.  "He might have been better off."
        He chuckled.  "In view of the way things turned out, you
might be right at that.  But what kind of a chance would he have had
of Elizabeth welcoming an alien daughter-in-law - the future queen -
with open arms?"
        "Well, Andalor could leave, we could go back to our
world," Shannon persisted.  But even as she said it, she knew it was
not the answer.
        "Leave everything he knows, everything he was trained to
do, everything that's familiar, to go flip burgers at McDonald's?" he
asked incredulously.  "I don't think so.  Personally, I find Andalor's
acceptance of his responsibility admirable.  The Realm is a mess
right now.  How could he live with himself, how could he ever be
happy, knowing he had walked out on his whole nation when it
needed him the most?  Talk about a rat leaving a sinking ship."  He
let her have a moment to consider what he had said, then continued
softly.  "It would be so easy for him to run away, to be with you, to
get out from under all his problems.  It takes guts to stay here, to
fight it out, to marry the woman the Council will approve.  Don't
you think that if he could, he'd prefer to be with you?"
        She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."
        "Of course he would.  But right now Andalor is in for the
fight of his life.  He's being both courageous and responsible,
because he has to be.  He has no choice.  And as hard as it is, that's
just the way it has to be, including marriage to a stranger he doesn't
love."  They were silent for a while as the girl mulled over what he
had said.
        "Life sucks."  She nestled against his shoulder.
        He sighed and held her a bit tighter.  "Yeah, sometimes life
does suck.  But it has a way of balancing out, really it does.  Give it
some time.  You okay now?"  His concerned eyes sought out hers.
        She smiled wryly.  "No.  But I suppose it's time to put on
my game face, right?"
        He smoothed her abundant black hair back from her face.
"You'll always be my princess, Shannon."
        His concern and tenderness encouraged fresh tears to
spring to her eyes.  Giving him a watery smile, she whispered,
"Thanks, Mulder.  I'm so glad you're around."  She slid off his lap.
"I'd better go get cleaned up for dinner."
        With a heavy heart, he watched her leave.
                                        - - - - -

        Everyone had assembled at the table in Reinald's quarters
by the time Andalor walked in.  What little conversation there was
halted as they rose from their seats in respect for his position.
        The king rolled his eyes and flapped his hand dismissively.
"Look, it's just us, can't we dispense with all this standing stuff?"  A
few at the table chuckled.  It was an old battle, and one likely to
continue.  Andalor tried to catch Shannon's eye, but they were cast
down as she seated herself with unnatural quiet at the far end of the
long table.  Goddess, he thought.  She looked beautiful tonight, in a
honey-colored silk sheath that precisely matched the color of her
eyes, and her hair bound in a single thick braid which hung over one
shoulder.
        Reinald and Tarnor were still extremely weak, hardly able
to struggle to their feet, and they collapsed gratefully into their
chairs at the king's command.  The healer had allowed them to
attend this meeting on the condition that she could stay, closely
monitoring their welfare from the hearth.
        Dishes and platters were passed, but it seemed to Scully
that no one wanted to be the first to speak for some reason.  She had
noticed the unfamiliar healer in the chamber, and decided to ask
about her.  "I don't recognize the healer, Reinald.  Where's Kyla?
How's Corvay doing?"
        It was as if the assemblage froze, and everyone appeared to
be looking everywhere but at her.   Finally Aldara cleared her throat.
"None of us really knew how to tell you.  I'm so sorry.  Healer
Corvay has passed on to the Next World.  Dana - he was murdered."
        "M-murdered?  But how?  By whom?" she blurted in shock.
She felt Mulder in her mind, comforting, supporting, but no less
appalled than she was. "Why would anyone murder a wonderful old
being who was close to death in any case?"
        The deep rumble of Jourdain's voice answered bitterly.  "It
was our cursed enemy.  It struck while Kyla was in the midst of a
healing trance with Corvay.  He died and she very nearly did too.
She's still recovering, very slowly, but a bit stronger every day."
Scully sat, speechless and stunned.
        "That's why we decided that we had no choice but to
construct a shield," explained Tarnor in a weak imitation of his
normal voice.  "For all we knew, the king could have been next."
        Grimly, Hannu nodded.  "But what spell did you use?  To
my knowledge, I am the only one who has ever devised a spell to
shield a large area, and that only relatively recently."
        "We knew it was possible in theory," replied Reinald
tiredly.  "We worked with the Professor down there" - the Professor
waved - "to enhance the personal shield spell."
        The Royal Mage's eyes closed briefly in fatigue, and Tarnor
took over.  "We used our powers and Gunther's knowledge to
magnify both the area and the protective nature of the spell."  His
ears twitched thoughtfully.  "In truth, I suppose you could say we
were making it up as we went along."
        "We kept renewing it, but the strain on Reinald and Tarnor
was terrible,"  Gunther chimed in.  "Still, no more calamities befell
anyone within the walls of the castle while it was in place.  So we
can assume it was effective."
        "You must show me how you enhance spells, Professor,"
said Hannu, intrigued.  "Unless my eyes fail me, you are not a
Mage."
        "A Mage in his own way, Hannu," smiled Mulder.  "But
don't get him started or we'll be here all night.  He gets somewhat
enthusiastic about his work."
        Reinald was grim-faced across the table.  "Tarnor and I
owe you both an apology.  Renewing the shield repeatedly did
deplete our powers, but even so, losing control of the Gate was
inexcusable.  Everyone might have been killed."
        "Is that what you think?  You didn't lose control, Mage
Reinald.  Oh, no doubt you were not in the best condition to attempt
Gate construction," admitted Hannu.  "But you would have
completed your side of the Gate without difficulty if it had not been
for interference."
        "Interference?" echoed Tarnor.
        "Don't tell me you didn't pick up the stench of the Black
Arts!" exclaimed Mulder, amazed.  "The air around Fairwoods was
thick with the stink."  Hannu and Aldara nodded their heads
emphatically. "Our enemy tried to disrupt the Gate spell.  Evidently
your fatigue was noted and that's why the interference was directed
at the Fairwoods side of the Gate."
        "I suspect we were too exhausted and too engrossed in our
task to notice. By the way, Mage Mulder, we shall have to a long
discussion later."  The old Mage's eyes burned with indignation and
his face was stern.  "I can only hope that Mage Hannu does not
think that I taught you to leap through unanchored Gates!"
        Mulder grinned sheepishly.  "I'll look forward to it -
although I doubt you can say anything on the subject that Scully
hasn't."  There was a chuckle around the table.  "Now, we have
some answers for you, and perhaps some possible solutions to our
problems.  I'll let Hannu tell you about our enemy."
        All eyes turned to the renowned Mage.  "Our enemy is the
last in a dynasty of royalty who extensively used the Black Arts to
spread suffering and terror, and further their control over the land."
        Aldara interrupted, a puzzled expression on her face.  "But,
Mage, why have we never heard of this Black Mage?"
        Hannu looked uncomfortable.  "It is extremely difficult to
explain.  Like myself, she was born ages ago, possibly over a
thousand season-cycles -"
        "What?  How is this possible?"  Jourdain boomed.
        He shook his head.  "I do not know myself.  You see, this
Black Mage and I have battled before.  The battle you have heard of
as legend actually did occur, longer ago than you can imagine.  At
the climax of the battle, such incredible forces were unleashed that
there was a terrible explosion which bridged space and time, and the
two of us were thrown far away from the Realm - to different places,
fortunately.  Eventually, I found my way back to the Realm. But
instead of returning close to the time I left, I discovered I had come
back at a time which for me was far in the future.  I have no way of
knowing how much time went by when I was elsewhere.  But in any
case, although it is hard to explain and even harder to understand, I
can assure you that it did happen."
        "What is our enemy's name?" pressed Andalor.
        "I don't know, Your Majesty.  No one knows.  The dynasty
guarded the secret of their names as closely as they guarded their
spells, fearing their power would somehow be diminished if their
names were spoken."
        Tarnor grunted.  "I've heard of such superstitions.  Even
today, there are clans in far-flung corners of the Realm that believe
something similar."
        The Mage nodded then continued,  "I can tell you that she
is completely evil.  Between her formidable powers, her total lack of
morality, and the hatred and lust for vengeance that drive her,
conquering her will be an extremely difficult task at best."
        "But!" announced Mulder.  "We have some good news."
        "We could use some," replied Andalor dryly.
        "Reinald gave me an ancient scroll before we left, one that
had been around for eons, but that no one had ever been able to
translate.  Tarnor, give it a try."  He passed the scroll to the gargoyle
Mage.
        He frowned at the seemingly impossible task that Mulder
was asking of him, but took the scroll.  He unfurled it and his brows
rose in amazement.  "It's in Garsintil!  Well, an old form of it,
anyway.  Let's see. 'Yacho no slarish'... not in our time...."
        "Tarnor, remind me to show you everything else I have
stashed away," sighed Reinald.  "It's ironic that this scroll might
have been translated a long time ago, had I the presence of mind to
show it to you."
        Mulder nodded, eyes sparkling.  "Maybe he can still help us
out.  There was one passage we couldn't translate very well.  Read
the whole thing and try to fill in the blanks for us."
        The gargoyle scanned the symbols. "Sorry, Mulder, a few of
these symbols I have never seen before.  They don't even resemble
anything closely enough to make a guess."  Then he settled down to
read.  They all watched as Tarnor read the document and grew more
and more excited.  The gargoyle's ears perked up and his eyes
bulged.  "Goddess!  Do you realize what this section is describing?
These are the Lost Powers!  Reinald, look at this!"  He thrust the
scroll into the older Mage's hands.
        Reinald took a glance at the document, but as weakened as
he was, he lacked the power to cast even a simple language spell. "It
might be faster if you just told the rest of us what's in here."
        Scully took the translation they had made and read it aloud.
        When she had finished, Hannu spoke.  "Mage Mulder and
Warrior Healer Scully and I have had a little time to think about the
contents of the prophecy.  We believe there is no question that the
allusions to darkness and stench means the use of the Black Arts by
this evil Mage.  The prophecy also mentions quite clearly those
weapons - the 'blue arrows' - that can be used to defeat her.  I think
it's also clear that the 'blue-cloaked Archer' is meant to signify a
Mage.  That's the only thing that makes any sense, in any case; no
one but an enormously powerful Mage is going to be able to defeat
the Dark Queen. But Tarnor - what did you mean by the...Lost
Powers?"
        "The power to control and create great beasts, to control the
elements - those are powers which are unknown to us.  Except for
Mulder's little display of causing the earth to tremble and split apart
in Fawnleaf," the gargoyle grinned,  "those powers have existed only
in legend.  Mages today refer to them simply as the Lost Powers."
        "This is true?"  Hannu looked from Mulder to Reinald.
"You really don't know the spells for that?"
        "Do you mean, you do?" asked Mulder excitedly.
        "Of course.  Only the most powerful Mages could control
them, so they were not used extensively.  But yes, there should be no
problem teaching you these spells."
        "All right!  This is our first real break!  The first 'clear blue
arrow'!" the young Mage exulted.
        "Before you get too carried away," replied Hannu dryly, "let
me point out to you that it is only one of the weapons that will be
effective - and all three must be used.  Not to put a damper on your
exuberance, but I must tell you - our enemy also knows those spells."
        Scully's heart sank.  "I guess we'd better figure out what
those other two blue arrows are, then."
        "Excuse me."  Shannon looked around the table.  "Are you
saying that you all seriously believe this prophecy?  Even you,
Scully?"
        She smiled tightly.  "You're right, Shannon, I don't believe
easily in such things.  But I do learn from experience, and Mulder
and I had some experience with one prophecy that ended up very
close to the truth."  Around the table, heads were nodding,
remembering the  prophecy that promised saviors from the Dark
Creatures in the persons of two extraordinary strangers.  She
shrugged.  "I can't explain it, but sometimes you have to accept these
things."  She turned from Shannon to address the Mages. She was
still pale and shaken over the news about Corvay, and she would
mourn his loss.  But for the moment, the survival of the Realm had
to take precedence.  "It's more than unfortunate we can't translate
that one passage completely. It appears to hold the key."
        "It's possible that a skilled Garsintil linguist might
recognize those archaic symbols," said Tarnor, doubtfully.  "I just
don't know if we have the time to search someone out, and bring
him or her here to study it."
        "Your mother couldn't do it?"  Scully queried.
        He shook his head.  "I don't think so.  She's a linguist, yes,
but she's also intensely practical and very busy.  I don't think she
would have taken the time to learn a lot of archaic stuff that never
gets used."
        "And I don't think we have the time now in any case,"
commented Hannu.  "Unless our enemy has changed drastically
since we last met - and I don't think she has -  I believe that right
now she is preparing for a great battle.  I feel she will strike soon for
the ultimate domination or destruction of the Realm."
        "What makes you so sure, Mage Hannu?" Andalor asked
gravely.
        "The violence she's causing to occur all over the land, the
hatred she's stimulating.  Your Majesty, she feeds on blood and
hatred the way we feed on meat and bread.  They make her stronger.
So not only is she weakening the Realm, she is also gaining strength
with every outbreak of trouble.  There must be a reason for her to
desire to grow as strong as possible in a relatively short time.  And
that can only be that she is readying herself for the battle ahead."
        "But why do you think it will be soon?" persisted the king.
        "Because this strength dissipates fairly quickly.  She has to
use it soon or it will begin to fade.  My guess is that she will wait for
the moment that she feels she has derived all the strength she will
need, and then she will strike."
        "Very succinctly put, Mage.  And quite daunting," replied
Andalor grimly.  "Are we ready?  And what about the feasibility of
another shield?"
        "As to whether or not we're ready, unfortunately it's
impossible to say. I too would be happier if we could translate the
key passage.  Does anyone know what 'the Guardian' might refer to?
No?  That's unfortunate.  What about the third weapon?"
        Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  "I...um...I might
have the glimmer of an idea, but I'd rather not say anything until
I've had a chance to think about it a bit."  Scully turned to him
questioningly, surprised to find he had put up a light shield.  He
looked at her apologetically, then his face cleared as she smiled.
        "As to the shield, Your Majesty, it must be your decision.
It does not appear in the prophecy - unless 'the Guardian' might in
some way refer to it, but I doubt it. Your shield was a defense only,
not an offensive weapon. I personally feel that the only reason the
shield worked is because she was loath to expend the power
necessary to destroy it."
        "So, this is further evidence that she may strike at any
time," reasoned Scully.  "She could have destroyed the shield, but
instead chose to save her power for the upcoming battle."
        "Precisely."  He looked at her appreciatively.  So quick-
witted, so logical.  So like -
        "Also, there is the effect on us of constructing a shield,"
added Mulder.  "If the Black Mage is saving her strength, I think we
would be well-advised to do the same.  I'm sure Hannu and I could
put up another shield, but at what price?  If it knocks us out the way
it did Reinald and Tarnor, we would be left extremely vulnerable.
And we still haven't completely overcome the effects of constructing
the Gate.  If we have to invest time and energy in anything at this
point, I'd prefer to use it to learn these Lost Powers."
        "And I agree," said Hannu quickly.
        Reinald looked at Tarnor, then back to Mulder.  "I wish we
could learn with you, Mage Mulder, but I'm afraid we will be of
minimal assistance if she chooses to do battle any time soon."
        The gargoyle nodded in agreement.  "At the moment, we do
well to get out of bed and stagger to a chair.  Our powers will take
some time to regenerate fully."
        "Then there will be no shield," Andalor said decisively.  "A
pity, really.  I would have liked to see the effect on Ballorca, if none
of those invited could pass through the shield for the ceremony
tomorrow."
        There was a choking sound from the other end of the table.
"By your leave, Your Majesty," blurted Shannon, rising, then she
ran from the chamber.
        "Thank you all for your counsel," the king said hurriedly.
"You are free to leave whenever you wish."  With that, he bolted
from the room in pursuit of Shannon.
                                        - - - - -

        "Shannon!  Shannon, wait up!"
        The stone hallway echoed with his pounding footsteps as he
raced to catch up with her.  He was answered by the slam of her
door.  Skidding to a stop, he hesitated only a moment and then
opened it, and burst into the room.
        She lay prone on her bed, her head cradled in her arms, her
shoulders shaking.  At the second slam of the door, she raised her
head.  "Isn't it against protocol for you to be in here with me
unchaperoned?" she asked bitterly.
        "Completely.  But Shannon, I have to talk to you, try to
explain-"
        "It's a pity you don't dispense with all protocol so easily."
She sat up and impatiently wiped the tears from her cheeks.  "All
right, you're here.  You want to talk, so talk."  She slid off the high
bed and walked down the length of the room past the king, her spine
straight, her bearing regal.  Indicating one of the chairs at the hearth
for him, she sat in hers and waited.
        He walked over and sat next to her, leaning forward with
his arms braced on his knees.  "Shannon, I know what a shock all of
this betrothal thing must be for you.  You need to know that I did
and said everything I could to get out of it.  But everything in the
Realm has turned to shit.  Beings are killing each other all over the
place, there's fighting in the streets, terrible storms....  Reinald's
been worrying his head off and working himself into a coma -
literally.  He's the closest person I have to family.  How could I give
him even more to worry about?  Ultimately, he's right - I have the
Realm to think of."  He shook his head.  "I hate it," he muttered.  "I
hate my duty and I hate my responsibilities and I hate being king."
He looked directly into her eyes.  "But I'm stuck, Shannon.  I can't
do a thing about it.  Things are in enough of a mess.  I have to do
what I'm doing right now.  I hate it, but I have to do it."  There was
a long silence between them.
        "I know," she finally whispered.  "I know you have to
marry this other girl, and be the king, and put the Realm ahead of
everything.  Mulder had a long talk with me.  I know it all, Andalor,
and I understand.  But that doesn't help what I'm feeling inside right
now."  She averted her gaze, looking into the fireplace so he
wouldn't see the tears welling up again in her eyes.
        He leaned over and took her hand.  "I-I wasn't sure what
you felt.  In a way, I was hoping that you didn't feel what I did.
Then it would be so much easier on both of us.  Well, on you
anyway.  But in another way, for purely selfish reasons, I am glad.
Shannon, I'm in love with you."
        She was very still, then turned to face him, eyes glistening
with unshed tears.  "And I'm in love with you, Andy.  But that
doesn't change a damn thing, does it?"
        "No.  Maybe.  I don't know," he said glumly.  "If it's any
comfort to you, Livirnea hates the whole idea too."
        "Livirnea?"
        "The girl I'm being betrothed to.  She's a nice kid,
incredibly smart.  She doesn't want to marry me, and she doesn't
want to be queen.  She wants to study, to become a scientist.  She's
taking lessons from the Professor, who says she has a lot of natural
talent.  Livirnea and I have gotten to be good friends.  But that's it -
there will never be anything else between us."
        "Except for the fact that you and Livirnea will be expected
to produce heirs to the throne."  She looked at him pointedly.
        He blushed.  "Yes...well....  The point is that tomorrow is
only a betrothal ceremony. The marriage itself wouldn't take place
for at least another two or three season-cycles.  A lot can happen in
that length of time."
        "Like what?  What could possibly happen that would
change things, Andalor?" she asked, exasperated.  "Only if Livirnea
died.  And as much as I hate all of this, I wouldn't wish that for her.
Besides, they'd only dig up another noble's daughter that the Council
would approve of."
        "But if you stayed, at least we'd be able to see each other,"
he said hopefully.
        "Yeah - from a distance.  They broke us up before, they
made sure we were separated.  Once you're betrothed and then
married, it will be worse."
        "Not necessarily."  Andalor appeared uncomfortable.
"Look, I'm only telling you this so you know all the options, okay?
So don't get mad.  Royal marriages by tradition have always been
arranged, usually for political gain.  This means that the king and
queen don't necessarily love each other, or even like each other.  So
because of the long tradition of arranged marriages, there is an
equally long tradition of...overlooking ...certain
royal...indiscretions."  He kept his eyes on the floor.
        Shannon stared at him as the meaning of his words sank in.
"Forget it!  No way!  It's bad enough that the Council doesn't think
I'm fit to marry you.  I refuse to be an 'indiscretion'!  I won't sneak
around to meet you behind Livirnea's back.  I love you, Andalor, but
I won't do it!"
        He smiled shyly.  "Actually, I thought you'd feel like that.
Maybe in a way, I'm glad.  It just seems to me to be such a sordid
thing to do, tradition or not.  I wouldn't want anything like that to
touch what we feel for each other.  Shannon, if I were an artisan, or
a trader, or a guard or anything else, you know I'd marry you in a
heartbeat, don't you?"
        She smiled.  "I didn't, but I do now.  And it helps. A little."
        "What are you going to do?"
        "I don't know, Andalor, I really don't.  I was going to stay
on in the Realm after Mulder and Scully went back to our world.  I
mean, why not, there's really nothing for me to go back to.  But
now...I don't know if I could stand being around you and knowing
we could never be together.  I'm going to have to think about it."
        Andalor stood and extended a hand to help her up.  "I hope
you stay, Shannon.  But in any event, I want you to know that not a
candlemark will go by - ever - without my thinking about you."  He
tugged gently on her hand, bringing her close to him.  Slowly his
lips descended on hers in a kiss so sweet, so heartfelt, it brought
tears to the eyes of both of the young lovers.  "I-I'd better go.  I love
you, Shannon."   He wheeled and hurried out the door before she
could react.
        Mind reeling, she stared after him.
        "I love you, Andalor," she whispered.
                                                - - - - -

        The day of the betrothal dawned so beautiful that some
thought that Ballorca must have had the ear of the Goddess herself.
There were fanciful flower arrangements everywhere, their scent
wafted through the sunlit air by the light breeze.  Servants scurried
to and from the Great Hall making last minute preparations,
musicians tuned their instruments, and guards donned their dress
uniforms and glittering armor.
        //Are you ready?\\
        //Just about.\\ Scully smoothed the dark green silk of her
dress and fastened the gold chain belt around her slim waist.  She
slipped an ornate but lethal looking ivory-hilted dagger into its
golden sheath.  This was to be a festive occasion, but a warrior was
always prepared.
        //I'm just going over to Shannon's room to see how she's
doing.   Meet us there?\\
        //Okay.  Good luck.\\
        //Yeah.\\  His reply was unenthusiastic.  He left their
chamber and strode the short distance up and across the corridor to
his Shannon's room and knocked softly.
        "Come in."
        Mulder opened the door and peeked inside. "Scully and I
are almost ready.  Shannon, you look beautiful!"
        She laughed shortly.  "Yeah.  For all the good it's doing
me."  She closed her eyes and then turned to him.  "I'm sorry,
Mulder.  Thank you.  I'm almost ready.  Please come in."
        She stood in the looking glass, making infinitesimally
small adjustments to her hair and gown.  Her dress was heavy satin
in purest white, with a diaphanous green train that caught at her
shoulders to float to the floor behind her.  She too wore a slim gold
belt at her waist, with a small jeweled dirk already in its sheath.  Her
hair was loose, smoothed back from her face by golden combs, to
emerge as a shining ebony cascade down her back.
        Mulder leaned back against the table, his arms folded in
front of his chest.  He regarded her with sympathy.  "You don't have
to do this, you know.  You don't have to go if it's going to upset you.
I'm sure Andalor and Reinald and the others would understand."
        She sighed.  "I don't want to go, believe me.  But I guess I
have to get used to the idea sometime.  It might as well be now."
After a final adjustment, she walked over to him.
        He put his arm around her.  "I'm so proud of you."
        She smiled shyly up at him.  "Thanks.  I just hope I can
pull it off.  Well, let's go face the music."
        They met Scully in the corridor and together walked out
across the courtyard, filing in with the throng to the Great Hall.
Inside there was a riot of color and sound.  Musicians played their
wind and string instruments as hundreds of beings milled around in
their finery.  Bunting billowed from the beams and columns,
directing the eye to the raised platform at the far end of the Hall.
The three scanned the crowd, finally spotting Aldara and Jourdain
holding little Daanna in the crowd, and made their way to their
friends.
        Suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets, and the throng
parted to make a wide aisle from the doorway to the dais.  Anatha,
the high priestess, led the way, followed by a somber Andalor.
Reinald entered next, leaning heavily on the arm of Healer Sirisa,
then Livirnea started down the aisle.  The girl looked young and
vulnerable, casting her eyes around as if looking for a way to escape.
Her parents followed, Mandor looking proud and aristocratic in his
scarlet and gray, Norilka looking smug and haughty.  After them,
prominent members of the Noble Houses entered, their expressions
running the gamut from joy to undisguised envy.  Finally, the
Council of Representatives filed down the aisle - a diminished
Council, since many were unable to travel to Fairwoods due to local
unrest and the recent storms.
        There were no seats.  Since the king had to remain standing
throughout the long ceremony, his subjects would have to as well.
When everyone had taken their places on or surrounding the dais,
the fanfare stopped.  Then, in the Old Realm tongue of ritual, the
priestess began to chant.
        "Well, here we go," muttered Mulder.  It promised to be a
long morning.

                                        - - - - -

        She moved easily in the preternatural dark of her chamber.
It was to be now.  The moment she had waited for her entire
existence.  Her heart pounded in anticipation of the blood, the
vengeance, the satisfaction, the triumph to come.  Only one thing
left to do before putting her plan into motion.
        She yanked on the bell pull.  When a lackey arrived, she
said only, "Bring him to the Chamber."  No other explanation was
given, or needed.  The gluttony in her eyes was all too apparent to
the servant.  He knew exactly where to bring the poor damned
wretch, and how to prepare him.
        She grasped the hematite sphere and let it take up her
thoughts.  In her mind's eye, a scene of celebration came into view.
She saw the excited, joyous crowd, she saw the king and the
priestess, she saw the pale slight girl who would be queen.  Or
rather, who would NOT be queen.  An ice-cold cackle escaped her
throat as she returned the sphere to its stand.  Not even the memory
of the previous day's failure to disrupt the Gate bothered her now.
In the end, it would make no difference.  And the end was very, very
near.
        She swept down the dank spiral staircase from her tower
room all the way down to the dungeon.  The few unfortunates still
alive down there shrank back as she made her way down the
noisome hall to an archway at the end.  She went through the
opening and descended yet another staircase, making her way to the
solitary door.
        The foul odor of old blood rushed to greet her as she
opened the door, and she sniffed the air appreciatively.  She lit a
sputtering torch and took the only seat in the chamber of horror.
Next to the wooden chair was a small low table, on which sat a
black pottery bowl and a ladle. The floor was slightly concave,
dipping down from the perimeter to the center of the room, where an
enormously wide but shallow metal basin was set into the floor.
Everywhere - floor, walls, and ceiling - bloodstains decorated the
hideous chamber.  She sighed in contentment.  This room would see
much more use in the near future, she promised herself.
        The sound of terrified jabbering punctuated by terse grunts
reached her ears and she sat forward expectantly.  A creaking door,
some scuffling, and the lackey shoved Drellor into the room before
slamming the door behind him.
        "Ah, Prince Drellor.  I'm so happy you consented to join
me," she said silkily.
        "I demand my clothing!"  He stood before her, trembling -
with fear, indignation, cold, or perhaps all three.  His sole vestment
was a brief loincloth.
        "You are attired exactly as I ordered."
        He peered at her and a crafty look stole into his eyes.  "If it
is a tryst you have in mind, my lady, I perform better in more
salubrious surroundings."
        She appeared startled for a moment and then began to
laugh in genuine amusement.  "That's why you think I brought you
here?  Ah, Drellor, just when I think you can get no more stupid,
you always surprise me."  She wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes
and chuckled again.  "Oh my, no, Prince Drellor.  I have brought
you here today for something very special.  It appears you are to
achieve your dream - that of being useful to me."
        With a negligent flick of her wrist, he found himself
levitated half a meter off the floor.  With a slight jerk, he glided
toward her to rest over the center of the large metal basin.  His limbs
were frozen, his legs slightly separated, his arms out a little from his
body.
        "By rights you should be naked, but I thought that might
have an adverse effect on my stomach.  I have my appetite to
consider, you know." She paced at the perimeter of the bowl,
looking at her hapless victim appraisingly.  "Now, I'm sure you are
simply dying to know how you're going to help me."  He opened his
mouth, but no sound emerged.
        She paced back to her chair and sat.  A tiny motion of her
finger turned her captive to face her.  She frowned briefly in
concentration and extended her hand.  Sparks of black energy, sharp
as shards of shattered crystal, bolted from her finger to pepper
Drellor's body in a dozen places.  His lips opened in a silent shriek
as his flesh was cut and began to stream blood.  A lucky hit opened
his brachial artery, causing bright red blood to gush from the wound
to the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat.  Beneath him, he could hear
the pinging sound as, drop by drop, his life dripped into the metal
basin.
        "There.  I believe you get the idea now.  Your mind was of
no use to me, your body is loathsome, but your blood....  Ah, now
that's a very different thing." She rose and strode around her victim,
drawing a long taloned finger roughly across one of his lacerations.
She brought the gory finger to her mouth and tasted his blood with a
look of ecstasy on her face.
        "I am off to do battle, Prince Drellor, and a warrior must
have sustenance if the battle is to be won.  My plans, my dreams,
will be realized this day.  I'd like to thank you for your part in it, for
you will be providing me with that crucial last meal before battle.
Now, if you don't mind, this may take some time and I'd like to get
on with it.  I have a very pressing appointment that I simply can't be
late for."
        She extended her hand again as his mouth opened to
scream.

End Chapter Twenty One