THE MAGICIAN - BOOK 3.5: THE FIREBRAND
By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
(magician@galaxy.med.yale.edu; ecksphile@earthlink.net)
Winter-Spring 2001


Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-One


No time was wasted in the allied army's drive toward Hegan's far 
larger forces. After all, there was no chance of surprising Dordinal 
as had happened at Cresscreek. Fortunately for the allies, Hegan 
paid attention only to their inferior numbers rather than attending 
the rumors that were now running rampant throughout the Realm. Had 
he listened, he would have been warned about the unusual toughness of 
his enemies' war-gear, and might even have given credence to the 
tales of the powerful Mage who had apparently thrown in on Forst's 
side.

As a result, his army was gathered before Dordinal's impressive 
walls. The great castle on the rocky crag loomed over the army 
that spread from the castle walls all the way to the outskirts of 
Hotsprings, which lay near the center of a wide, shallow depression. 
Between the two, a plain that ended by the narrow river that carried 
Hotsprings' healthful waters toward the west. A lot of space to cover, 
ground to win, and warriors to kill, if success were to stand with 
the allies.

Hegan stood at the top of the highest tower of Dordinal's great 
defenses. Where many Houses like Forst chose to include the 
near-by villages within their walls, Dordinal never saw the need 
to shield mere landsmen behind its gates. There were quarters 
sufficient to protect those whom the House would need should a siege 
ever occur, but beyond this, Dordinal's energies were always focused 
on making sure that the House would be so much stronger than any 
possible enemy, that a seige would never happen. It had been a 
thousand season-cycles since a battle had been fought on Dordinal's 
lands. That victory saw his family's progenitor destroy the Forst 
Householder who had been headquartered here. Given the history of the 
place, one could not blame him for his confidence in his ability to 
destroy another Forst leader -- and the House as a whole, for that 
matter -- on this day.


*	*	

The smell of sweat-soaked leather was thick on the air as Forst's 
division charged toward the center of Hegan's lines. With Highlands 
between Forst and the village and Norwood in reserve, Margul hoped 
he would be able to sweep Dordinal's troops toward the castle, where 
they and the brigands he had set on that side of his force would be 
trapped in close combat against each other. In this way, he would 
rid the Realm of a notable part of two of its worst problems. If, for 
some reason, the brigands were able to break over or through 
Dordinal's stone-built defenses, they would, as he had promised, be 
able to raid through the castle, taking what they could carry as 
payment for their services.  

The enemy's great numerical strength became shockingly apparent 
as Forst's troops drew closer to Dordinal's lines. In spite of the 
enormous pressure being placed on Dordinal's northern forces by 
the arrival of the armies of the Lost Houses, Margul saw Hegan had 
managed to pull in hundreds upon hundreds of troops of all kinds. 
In a normal battle situation there would, frankly, be no hope.

However, the situation was far from normal. The fact that Hegan had 
chosen to place his army outside of his walls was strong evidence he 
had not paid attention to the rumors that surrounded the events at 
Cresscreek. Margul was pleased to see that whether Hegan believed 
them or not, many of the warriors who stood before the allies' 
advancing forces did. The fear that greeted their approach was 
palpable. It grew exponentially when Forst's warriors began cutting 
down their enemies like stalks of grain before the farmer's scythe.

*	*	

A woman's scream was the first of the morning's many signs that 
things were not going well for House Dordinal, and by extension, 
Larka's beloved Hotsprings. So far, the Spring trading festival was 
a success, goods and money being traded at a pace not seen since 
before the Dark Creatures' privations. Many were concerned when 
rumors about the events at Cresscreek arrived two days earlier. Some 
merchants left, but most stayed, and others poured in to replace those 
few who went home. If Lord Hegan had not arrived the night before the 
news came, things would have been much worse. However, his appearance 
with the Forst woman whom he was to marry helped matters greatly. 
Since then, things settled down, though some grew fearful the night 
before, when news of a large body of warriors moving in from the west 
came from a Dordinal guard, his lips by too much wine. Until now, 
Larka had been sure that Lord Hegan had saved the Spring trading 
festival.

The woman's cries, almost immediately followed by the sound of the  
clashing of swords, could not be ignored. Within moments, rumors ran 
rampant amongst the thousands of beings who had camped on the 
broad plain to the south and east of the village. The murmur of voices 
engaged in the early morning's exchanges was quickly replaced by 
fearful discord. Soon, however, even the rising hubbub of panic-filled 
voices was overcome by the magically-assisted tones of the town crier,
whose call to arms made it certain all would know of the danger 
approaching the formerly peaceful village.  

Larka hastened across the square, looking for the young Dordinal noble 
who was in command of the local militia. The morning's danger did not 
change the commander's habits at all. He took much time and equal 
pleasure from ignoring the mayor, preferring to take reports from his 
subordinates. Larka could only fume silently, helplessly listening to 
the growing sound of battle and increasingly frequent cries that 
attended it. 

"What do you want?" the young man sneered, finally unable to find 
further reason for delay in giving the ugly troll-mayor his attention.

"I would like to know what is happening to my village," Larka said, 
knowing that he wasn't likely to get straight answers from the 
Dordinal representative.

"It is being attacked."

"Obviously," Larka replied, his chin firming in defiance as yet another 
death-scream split the air.

"It is none of your concern," the other snorted, trying to dismiss this 
grotesque little problem from his attention. "The only thing that 
should concern you is finding your Mage, as it will be able to help us 
defend the valuable goods the merchants have brought here for trade."

Talla had helped to build the Gate that had allowed much of House 
Dordinal to escape to Fairwoods when, ten season-cycles earlier, 
many there feared that the fortress would not stand against the 
incredible strength of the dark armies. "I will have Talla brought to 
you immediately," Larka replied, and strode off to find the middle-
aged elf. 

The Dordinal noble could not hide his disdain when Talla presented 
herself to him. Larka thought her response to her orders and the 
manner in which they were delivered was the epitome of diplomacy.
 
"It is fortunate for the honor of your House that my desire to protect 
the lives of those who have been my neighbors for many season-
cycles will do much to assure the merchants' economic survival. 
For if it were up to me, I would be happy to see your enemies do to 
you what you and your accursed family have been so willing to do to 
others in the past," Talla declared.

The young Dordinal noble frowned, but knew it would do him no good 
to ignite the wrath of a Mage at a time like this. So, sneer curling 
his lip as he did so, he turned back to directing his troops' failing 
efforts to defend Dordinal's showplace.

*	*	

Margul was pleased. His warriors were driving forward with near 
impugnity, much as they had at Cresscreek. They were more careful 
than they had been then, as all learned that, much as Charla's 
spells could add to their effectiveness, a careless warrior could 
still die. The absence of the twenty-four dead or permanently crippled 
beings whom they were forced to leave behind was mute testimony 
to the dangerous nature of the warrior's profession, no matter what a 
Mage might try to do to reduce the high price of battle. As Forst's 
division crested a small rise located midway between the center of 
Hotsprings and Dordinal's imposing fortress, Margul saw his left flank 
was ironically being endangered by the successes of his warriors and 
those of Highlands. Their spell-enhanced gear was cutting down the 

Dordinal troops faster than the enemy could replace them. Although 
the brigands' gear had been reinforced as well, most didn't wear 
armor and their swords were, generally, not as good as those carried by 
their noble brethren. As a result, the brigands' division was taking 
serious casualties and not able to move forward as quickly as 
expected.

"Carry this message to Linder of Highlands," Margul said to Charla, 
who had disguised herself as a tall, blonde warrior. Much to his 

mixed frustration and pleasure, she had followed him throughout 
the morning. "Tell him that we are going to stop here as we are at 

risk of breaking with the brigands' division. We will push our right 
flank forward but he will need to swing left and push the enemy 
toward the Darkwoods forest if we are not to lose contact with 
him as well. Tell him that when he reaches the treeline he will need to 
turn toward Dordinal's castle. In this way we can trap the enemy's 
forces between our army, the forest and Dordinal's castle.  We can 
then kill them where they stand," he said, voice thick with emotion.

"My lord," she responded dutifully, hastening off in pursuit of her 
errand.

Much as she might want to do otherwise, Charla had to follow Margul's
orders. She was frustrated by the fact that she would be unable to
protect him. The afterglow of a soul-shattering bout of passion finally 
allowed her to understand that, for their relationship to maintain its 
current health, she would have to respect his needs, much as they 
were in stark contrast to her own. 

The decision had been a hard one. It had taken the modification of her 
disguising spell and much further thought before she could be satisfied 
she could follow him as a warrior and protect him if need be. Nor 
had it been easy to convince him to accept this compromise.

It took mere moments to find Linder and give him Margul's message. 
The older noble frowned for a moment, and then nodded, doubt showing 
on his face.

"I assume, Mage Charla, you realize such a maneuver will put my 
warriors at great risk?"

She tried to  cover her shock at the Highlander's ability to see 
through her disguise with an understanding nod. "As,  I am sure, is 
Margul. I believe he plans to send Norwood to your aid."

"If he did not intend to do so, make sure that he does when you return 
to him," Linder snapped. "Your House has been honorable so far, and 
we cannot lose contact with the left flank, but I will say having my 
people put at such risk makes me wonder about Forst's long-term 
plans."

"I understand," Charla sighed. She wondered whether she should remind 
Linder that, while his people would have the longest road to travel 
during the battle, Forst and whatever remained of the brigands would 
be attacked from Dordinal's high walls while facing danger on the 
ground as well.

The eddies and currents of the battle flowed around her as Charla 
moved to return to Margul's side. Had an over-eager warrior from 
Highlands not knocked her aside in his rush to return to the front, 
she might not have seen the large bands of brigands that were charging 
toward Hotsprings. Margul threatened the leaders of the bands who 
joined forces with his with unimaginable consequences if they struck at 
the village rather than supporting the troops as they had promised. She 
was there when the threat was made, blue cloak flowing around her legs 
as the wind gusted through a nearby stand of trees. She had no doubt 
that her power was more than apparent. She thought her willingness to 
carry out her lord's orders was equally so. Obviously, the brigands 
were less afraid of either Margul's wrath or her capabilities than 
they seemed.

The whip-crack of Mage-born lightning brought her up short, all senses 
primed and alert.

*	*	

It didn't take Talla long to see things were far worse than the 
Dordinal commander realized. Brigands were thick on the ground, and 
arrows from unseen archers filled the air. The militia had little chance 
of defeating such an assault without her help.

She stood as tall as her elven form would allow, throwing bolts of 
Mage-energy into the largest concentrations of the enemy, scattering 
them like song-birds at the sight of a hunter. Those that were struck 
directly fell stunned, the Dordinal militia killing them where they lay.  
However, there were simply too many of the roving bandits and too 
much protection for them from the hidden archers in the nearby trees. 
A terrible sadness swept over Talla as she realized without help she 
would not be strong enough to protect the village from those who 
hoped to pillage it.

*	*	

Charla knew that the little elf-mage would never be able to protect her 
village without some help.  She couldn't do too much in support of the 
undefended landsmen and merchants in the town, but Charla knew as 
well as anyone else in the Realm that brigands weren't usually able to 
hire archers. Whoever was funding these bands was willing to spend 
a great deal in order to ensure their success. Success she could 
deflect by removing this unusual advantage.

By focusing her Mage-sight on the nearby forest, she was able to find 
the three humans whose bolts were making life perilous for those on 
the ground. By knocking them from their perches, Charla would swing 
the balance toward even, as the bandits were still far more numerous 
than the Dordinal militia against whom they fought. Only the presence 
of the elf-Mage would be enough to prevent the capture of Hotsprings 
and the slaughter of the thousands of innocents who huddled behind 
its meager defenses. It took but a moment and a tiny sliver of her 
energy to blast the three trees, in which the brigands' archers had 
thought themselves safe, into kindling.

*	*	

Hegan swore violently as he watched his formerly invincible army 
lose ground. His far larger forces were being driven toward the 
impenetrable forest that surrounded his family's rocky seat by a 
smaller but stronger force. He cursed himself for listening to 
Darliss, who had bitterly denied the possibility of a Mage in Forst's 
ranks. He had accepted her word as, so far as she knew, he was 
looking out for her interests as much as he was his own. When 
questioned on the matter, his underlings were sure that she did not 
know of their plans for her once the marriage was complete.

But it was now quite obvious that Forst and its allies must be 
receiving some kind of outside help. He snarled with frustration as 
yet more ground was captured by the enemy. His subordinates were 
fools if they thought he would allow them to lose this all-important 
battle. He would simply have to go down and take charge himself, in 
the process showing his family and the Realm at large the kind of 
metal of which he was made.    


*     *     *     *

When Pitir opened the door to Reinald's chamber to admit the King, 
it was clear the apprentice had had a tough session with his master. 
Andalor hoped that his errand might take both his and Reinald's minds 
off their disagreement concerning Forst's apparent use of magic to 
defeat Dordinal at Cresscreek.

After the meeting had broken up, Andalor remained to talk with Reinald.
The Royal Mage just wasn't acting like himself, not with his stubborn 
insistence that Charla of Forst had the potential of being a Black 
Mage, if not in actuality. It wasn't like Reinald to be so stubborn, 
so closed-minded. So Andalor had stayed behind to talk to him about it.

It had been a mistake. Reinald was already annoyed that the others 
did not seem to take his warnings about Charla seriously. When 
Andalor, too, questioned them and stated he was inclined to take 
Aldara's word for Charla's actions, the Royal Mage's temper flared. 
Reinald was too practiced to allow a Magestorm to occur, but the 
skies nonetheless grew dark and forbidding as he pressed his case 
against Charla. What was worse, he seemed to take Andalor's 
failure to agree with him as a betrayal of their close relationship. 
The two had spoken little since then.

"Changed your mind, have you?"

Startled, Andalor brought his thoughts to the present and stared at 
his mentor. "No, Reinald, I have not. Unless I see evidence that Forst 
used Black Magic, I will probably not change my mind. And that 
evidence, if it exists, has not turned up."

"By the Goddess, I --"

Andalor stretched out his arms placatingly. "Look, Reinald, I know 
you are doing what you feel is best for the Realm, I do not doubt that. 
And I do not  blame you for how you feel. You know better than anyone 
what the Black Arts have done to the Realm -- when I was enchanted 
and turned to stone, when you were tried and nearly convicted of using 
the Black Arts to do it. How the Dark Queen nearly destroyed us all. 
But you are seeing dangers where they don't exist!"

"Charla has the knowledge, and she cannot be trusted not to use it. I
just hope someone heeds my words before there is yet another crisis. 
Obviously, you no longer regard my counsel as valuable."

"Not valu-- ! Reinald, that simply isn't true!"

The Royal Mage made an impatient, dismissive gesture. "Then why has 
Your Majesty graced my chambers today?"

"I was wondering if you might help me to reach Mage Mulder."

"For what reason?" Reinald's tone stopped just short of being frosty.

"Well, now that the Royal Priestess has given us the wedding date, I
 wanted to invite him and Warrior Healer Scully to our wedding. No
doubt they will have arrangements to make."

Reinald grunted noncommittally, but his expression softened a bit as
he strode to the Oracle Cloud and whipped the blue velvet covering 
from it.

After the Mage finished casting the spell, there was an uncomfortable 
silence while the Oracle Cloud's colors swirled.

They became aware of a voice speaking as from a distance. Suddenly, 
from much closer in proximity, they heard a gasp and then a sharp yelp.

<Agent Mulder? Agent Mulder, is there a problem?>


<Uh.. no... Yes. Excuse me, sir.>

Just as they were settling into recognizable shapes, the colors began 
to dip and swirl again, accompanied by softly muttered curses. They

heard a door slam shut, and then Mulder's voice, echoing as if it were
coming from a cave or vault, and the sound of running water.

"God *damn* it! No, that's all right, Scully, I think the fire's out. 
It's not smoldering any more."

"Maybe not, but let me check your chest. You might have a pretty bad 
burn there. Yes, it's red, it'll probably blister."

"This better be good, Reinald!" The colors finally stopped moving and 
Mulder came into view, his tie flipped over his back and a blackened 
area noticeable on his blue shirt. Just at the edge of their field of 
vision, Scully's red hair could be seen.

"I'm sorry, Mulder, I asked Reinald to contact you. Looks like the 
Professor needs to make some alterations to the Oracle Cloud."

"It would be appreciated. Scully would have had a tough time explaining 
my spontaneous combustion to my boss and a roomful of other agents. 
So to what do I owe this, er...."

Andalor smiled. "The High Priestess has set the wedding date for the 
evening of the first twin full moons of summer. Shannon would be 
heartbroken if you two couldn't make it. And I must say I'm looking 
forward to seeing you again as well."

Mulder frowned. The King noticed that Mulder didn't look well -- he 
had lost weight, there were circles under his eyes, and his face was 
haggard with worry. "Has the Professor done any of the calculations 
yet?"

"No, why?"

"We just started a case," the agent sighed. "It looks like a nasty one 
and I have no idea how long it might take. A lot might depend on how 
the Professor's 'gel-flow' is going."

"You can't get a few days off?" Andalor did not relish the prospect 
of having to tell Shannon that her beloved 'uncle' would not be able 
to come to their wedding.

Scully came more fully into view. She too looked drawn, and cast 
frequent concerned glances in the direction of her bondmate. "Not if 
the case is still going on, no, Andalor," she responded quietly. "This 
is one of Mulder's specialties. We're after a serial killer of 
children, and Mulder has a gift for getting inside the head of these 
kinds of people so we can find them and stop them. So his being here 
could well make all the difference."

Andalor was appalled. The idea that any being could deliberately take 
the lives of the young....  And Mage Mulder was expected to understand 
such a beast, to get inside of his head, think those horrible thoughts, 
feel that kind of pain? No wonder their friends looked so haunted.

"Are you all right there?" Unexpectedly, the question came from Mulder. 
"Reinald, you haven't said a word and you look a little... Well, you 
look like you did when you were first training me, when I kept smashing 
every bit of pottery you owned."

"Everything's fine," Andalor said quickly.

Reinald shot an aggrieved look towards the young King, then said, 
"It is nothing, Mage Mulder. I am delighted to see you again."

The agent looked doubtful. Reinald's tone had been stiff, with little 
of his usual warmth. In the Oracle Cloud, Mulder's image looked over 
towards Scully and some communication evidently took place between 
them. 

"Well, okay," Scully replied. "Look, have the Professor work out the 
details, how the gel-flow is going right now. It might end up working 
in our favor and allow us to come. Needless to say, Shannon isn't 
the only one who would be heartbroken if we couldn't make it."

"Fair enough, Warrior Healer," Andalor replied. "I'll speak to the 
Professor today. It may take him several days to work it out. I will 
contact you again when he has the information."

"That would be great, Andalor. And how is Shannon?" Mulder inquired.

"Staying out of trouble, for a change," the King laughed. "Very busy 
with the wedding preparations. She's even managing to work alongside 
Ballorca without throwing lightning bolts."

Mulder smiled for the first time, and noted Reinald did as well. "That 
is an improvement. The Realm must be having some magical effects on 
her."

<Hey, Spooky! If you and the Ice Queen are finished doing whatever 
you're doing in here, Skinner wants you back at the briefing. Hang 
around in men's rooms a lot, do you, Scully?> There was the echo of 
raucous laughter.

Reinald couldn't fail to notice his friends' expressions darken. "How 
do you manage not to strike back at them with your powers, Mulder?
How can you let them insult you and Warrior Healer Scully like that?"

Mulder's smile was bitter. "Maybe it's a good thing my powers don't 
work as well in this world, Reinald, or the FBI would be minus a lot
of agents and have a huge vermin infestation problem."

"Most of it's just envy, Reinald," Scully said. "Unfortunately, 
Mulder's had to get used to it."

"Well, we'd better get back to the briefing." He pulled his tie back 
to the front, and it managed to cover most of the scorched spot on 
his shirt. "If the Professor has any spare time, you might get him to 
work on the combustion problem."

"I will mention it to him, Mage Mulder," Reinald replied, a small smile 

curving his lips.

As the images of Mulder and Scully swirled from view, awkwardness 
again took over the room.

"Reinald, please. You're my best friend, the one I trust more than 
anyone else," Andalor pleaded.

The Royal Mage sighed. "Then you have a very odd way of showing it.
Leave me now, Andalor. I'm quite tired."

Nodding slowly, the King did as he was bidden, both men still 
burdened with the weight of their differences.



End of Chapter Twenty-One


THE MAGICIAN BOOK 3.5: THE FIREBRAND
By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
(magician@galaxy.med.yale.edu, ecksphile@earthlink.net)
Winter 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-Two


Until recently, the allied warriors had done very well, taking many 
scores of Dordinal lives at limited cost to themselves. Much land was 
gained and Dordinal's army would soon be trapped against the 
foundations of their castle. While a break-out through the Darkwoods 
Glens was a risk, the incredibly dense undergrowth would probably 
prevent an organized counter-attack, and many would be lost to the 
predators known to live there.

The rumble of hundreds of feet and sound of a wild battlecry were the 
only warning Margul had before a wildly charging mass of Dordinal 
warriors swept down on the allied lines at the break between Forst 
and Highlands' divisions. Both Houses responded quickly, but the 
overwhelming number of fresh warriors could be enough to allow 
Dordinal to break the allied lines and change the sweet taste of the 
victory into the bitter tang of defeat. 

*	*	*

Hegan was pleased. His direct intervention led to a near break-out and 
with only a bit more effort, he was sure that his warriors would pierce 
the enemy lines. It would then be an easy matter to roll them up from 
the center and kill them where they stood. There could be no question 
that these were the toughest, best equipped warriors that he had ever 
seen, and their success in battle against his troops was surprising. 
But no matter what might have been done to their gear, they were 
neither skilled nor numerous enough to defeat the heavily armored 
nobles of Dordinal.

This troop was Dordinal's best division and always held in reserve. 
Their greater numbers and the incredible mass of their gear was 
enough to give them the momentum that they needed to break out. 

And break out they would, if he had anything to say about it.

*	*	

Margul quickly realized that the situation was worse than he had 
feared. The sheer mass of the enemy's troops was doing terrible 
damage to their lines. There were no reserves to call to stiffen the 
local opposition. Therefore, a small group of warriors from Houses 
that had been enemies far more often than they had been allies 
would have to hold until others could be pulled from quieter parts 
of the battle. Of course, if the enemy commander could be found 
and destroyed, the momentum that the Dordinal division established 
would be lost in an instant. If this could be achieved, the troops his
warriors faced would lose some of their cohesion and could be 
destroyed more easily. Much as he hated to do it, Margul knew that 
finding the enemy commander was even more important than 
maintaining control over the division as a whole. Ghalbar would have 
to take command so he could track the enemy commander to whatever 
fate awaited them.

Charla had stayed with him since her brief foray to find Linder of 
Highlands, and much as he knew she would hate it, he would have to 
send her on another mission. By doing so, he would keep her busy and 
give himself time to find and fight with his enemy before she could 
return and protect him as she had sworn to.

"Find Ghalbar and tell him that he must take charge," Margul cried to 
her, pointing toward the left-hand edge of Forst's formation, where a 
particularly wild melee was taking place.

"My lord," she replied. She hastened off, though well aware that the 
mission mostly to keep her busy and her mind off the dangers her 
lover was throwing himself into.       

*	*	

Hegan charged, blade swinging above his head in order to further 
encourage the efforts of his troops. The curving line that marked the 
boundary between two divisions of his enemies' army wavered yet 
again before his charge but did not break. Whatever else might be 
said of them, these warriors were certainly determined to hold. 
Fortunately, he was just as determined to win this day. Doing so 
would guarantee that any remaining rivals within his House would be 

powerless to remove him. 

Even better, his performance on the field of battle this day could put 
him in a position for the throne of the Realm itself. Much could happen 
to the young King -- a dread malady, an accident, even assassination. 
Until Andalor produced an heir, Hegan had time. And even then.... A 
cruel smile curved his lips. Yes, 'King Hegan' definitely had a fine 
ring to it. With a wild cry, he dashed forward.

*	*	

Margul smiled grimly when he caught sight of the Dordinal commander's 
latest attempt to encourage his troops to even greater deeds. He was 
foolish to make himself so conspicuous. Any number of warriors would 
be proud to take his head, but Margul intended for that task to fall 
only to himself.

Hegan was surprised by the sudden impact when one of the Forst nobles 
slammed into him, obviously trying to tackle him to the ground. No 
Dordinal noble would ever allow himself to be taken down in such a 
fashion. He kept his feet, swinging around to match his enemy's charge 
with one of his own.

Margul jumped aside, surprised by his enemy's ability to maneuver in 
his extremely heavy armor. However, the Dordinal noble whom he faced 
was nonetheless burdened by his gear. Margul was sure that he would 
be able to defeat him, given time.

Hegan grew increasingly frustrated as combat with the Forst noble 
continued. The thickness his heavy armor admittedly provided 
protection against his enemy's magically enhanced blade. But 
it also meant he could not move as quickly as his foe did, and he 
found it increasingly difficult to keep up with the welter of slashing 
attacks the Forst noble threw at him. It was clear the other man was 
well-trained, and his lighter gear left him unburdened in movement. 
However, heavy armor did have its advantages, and Hegan knew he 
would need to act quickly if he were to benefit from them.

Margul was beginning to enjoy himself now. The enemy commander was 
an excellent fighter, and he had no doubt that if Charla hadn't worked 
her ways on his own gear, he would have been destroyed. Her skill,
combined with the light weight of his armor, ensured him equal 
protection and better maneuverability than that which his enemy's 
gear offered. He was now dancing around his increasingly fatigued 
foe, forcing him to expend his dwindling energies in defending against 
strikes that grew in number and intensity as Margul's confidence did. 

Hegan realized he would have to strike his enemy down now or be 
defeated himself. Fortunately, other Dordinal warriors had seen his 
plight, and seemed to be cutting their way to his aid.

Margul was more than surprised when his enemy suddenly reversed 
direction, charging for him with renewed energy. His enemy's shoulder 
crashed into him with awesome force, nearly driving him from his feet. 
Fortunately, Vestra was nearby, and had just destroyed a warrior who 
was making his way to assist his commander. Her leg whipped out, 

tripping the Dordinal commander and giving Margul the time he needed 
to recover from the nearly-successful charge.

Hegan groaned in disappointment, knowing now that his time was limited 
in the extreme. He was infuriated that Forst would win this day. In the 
victory, Forst would reverse hundreds of season-cycles of his family's 
most determined efforts to break their traditional enemy, not to mention 
putting all of his personal plans for power and glory to the flame. He 
struggled to rise, knowing his only hope lay in the Dordinal troops 
who continued to battle towards him.  

But Margul struck him down before he could rise. 

It took mere moments for the Forst noble to find a weakness in the 
Dordinal commander's armor, and drive his sword hilt-deep into his 
enemy's body. He quickly withdrew his weapon and flipped the dead man 
over. Charla, who had just returned from the errand that he had set her, 
came to his side to see the enemy's face.

"That is Hegan," she cried joyfully, using her Mage-enhanced strength 
to pick up the body and throw it far behind the Forst lines. 

"You are sure?" Margul demanded, shocked that Hegan would have 
broken Dordinal tradition by choosing to lead his troops in battle.

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, I'm sure. He tried to woo me when I was 
at Fairwoods. Apparently my status as Mage-apprentice wasn't enough to 
prevent him from trying to act on his desire for me. Needless to say, I 
was uninterested, and Reinald was furious."

"In that case, let the word go forth that Hegan has been destroyed!" 
Margul exulted, his troops joyfully spreading the news. It did not take 
long for the enemy's troops to realize the truth of it as well, and 
almost immediately thereafter, confusion broke out on the Dordinal 
side. Victory suddenly meant nothing to Dordinal nobles who were more 
interested in establishing their positions for the newly vacant Head 
of House. Their squabbles were mirrored by an army suddenly unable to 
fight.

"Take his sword as an embassy to Darliss," Margul said to Charla, 
knowing she wanted to find their aunt and take revenge on her for 
all that had been done when they were children.

"Thank you," Charla said. "I shall go through the rest of his gear and 
see if I can find any papers detailing their strategy. Tell me when you 
are ready and I will do what needs be done to help you enter and 
take their seat."

"I shall assist you," Margul told her. "We need to be very sure to 
check him over completely. I don't want you to be in danger from 
any Dordinal trooper who might slip through our lines and attack you."

She smiled knowingly. "Small chance of that. The troops have little 
appetite left for the fight, and their commanders are too busy 
plotting their next moves within the House. Besides, what about the 
army?" she demanded, surprised that Margul would abandon his 
responsibilities.

"Ghalbar commands them skillfully," Margul said. Hands on hips, he 
surveyed the battle around them. "We will need a strong figure to 
control things at home when we are called to Fairwoods. The best way 
for him to gain credibility is to complete this victory." They began 
walking back to the Forst lines to find what was left of Hegan's 
corpse.

Charla was not convinced by Margul's argument but chose not to 
question it. There were still too many things for her to worry about, 
not least of which was the indignity that she was about to do the dead 
Dordinal lord by stripping him of his possessions.  
                                                          
She was never so pleased to have inherited her mother's long-legged 
stride as she was now, walking through the battle-ruined Dordinal 
seat. The village of Hotsprings had been spared most of the fighting, 
as Margul intended, but the once-proud castle was a shambles.

After a hard-fought battle, the allied army drove Hegan's forces from 
the field with the same ease that Forst's troops had at Cresscreek. 
Even now, the vagabonds and mercenaries who had flocked to Hotsprings 
in hopes of plunder and other less savory rewards were pillaging the 
great house, taking what they could with them as Margul's payment. 
Dordinal would survive this blow, there could be no doubt of that. But 
with their western allies declaring allegiance to Forst and their 
northern territories overrun by the armies of the Lost Houses, nearly 
half of their lands were lost to them. More importantly, the sword 
Charla now carried was proof that Dordinal's most effective leader 
had been destroyed as well.

*     *

"Away with you!" Darliss screetched. "Away with you all! Where are 
my servants? Herea? Drafi? Where are you? I will have you skinned 
alive for this! Come when I call you!" She cowered in the corner of 
what had been her very comfortable dressing room. Now, bandits 
and even some of the villagers were going through drawers and closets 
and little wooden chests, gleefully pulling out trinkets and valuables, 
and stuffing them into leather bags to carry off. 

"No! Not my bracelet!" Ineffectually, she used her fists to beat on one
brigand who barely appeared to notice. Again, she retreated, her eyes
popping more than usual in outrage at what was going on around her.
The most valuable of the Forst jewels she had hidden someplace safe,
where the scoundrels would not think of looking for them. But this was
her property, her things, and she was beside herself with fury.

"When Lord Hegan returns, I will see you flogged, hung, drawn and 
quartered for our amusement!" Her chin trembled with fury. "Along 
with my cursed servants, who have deserted me."

His eyes knowing, a dark, stocky brigand approached her, laughing. 
"Should Lord Hegan appear, then we will heed your words. But for 
now, allow me to relieve you of the weight of that fine necklace and 
broach." Fending off her flailing fists easily, he took the jewelry and 
stuck it into a bag hung at his waist.

"You will regret this insult," Darliss said, her voice a low growl. 
"How dare you touch my person?"

"Believe me, my Lady, I would have preferred to have no contact with 
you whatsoever. I prefer my women to have more wit and heart, not to 
mention curves. But you see...." He jiggled the bag. "The sacrifices I 
must make for my trade!" he exclaimed dramatically, to the amusement 
of his compatriots. 

Darliss shrieked again, sounding not unlike a hogbeast being 
slaughtered. But in her case, it was pure temper and frustration, as 
the bandits and villagers alike withdrew in search of more chambers 
to 'liberate', and she was left to survey the ruins of what was left 
of her belongings.

They won't get away with this. I will make it my life's work to see 

that every thief, villager and servant dies in agony for what has 
happened to me this day, she swore to herself. They will scream for 
the mercy of a quick death, and there will be no mercy to be had.

And speaking of Hegan, where was he? How dare he leave her so 
unprotected? In Fairwoods, she could have had a wedding that would 
have rivalled the King's own, but no! That son of a she-goat Hegan 
had to drag her to this Goddess-forsaken place, to be married 
surrounded by sullen villagers and beings of all contemptable sorts.
Well, he would have to answer for this latest outrage.

Kicking aside garments and personal articles strewn in her path, she 
charged out into the hallway in search of her betrothed.

*      *

Margul's revenge had been wrought, and now, Charla thought with a 
grim smile, it was her turn. The only problem was that she was having 
trouble finding the woman who, twenty-five season-cycles earlier, had 
done so much to destroy her dreams. She never would have chosen to 
train under Reinald -- his views on the Black Arts were well-known. 
After much soul-searching over the past weeks, she had to admit to 
herself that Reinald reacted the only way he knew how. It was Darliss 
who knew of her ambitions. It was Darliss who was instrumental in 
manipulating Ian to send her Fairwoods to be trained under the Royal 
Mage's scrutiny, knowing full well what it would do to Charla's 
dreams. After making her childhood a misery, Darliss had taken pains 
to see that the young Mage's adulthood would be the same.

Her thoughts were disrupted by a sudden impact with a shorter human 
female.

"You stupid bitch!" A voice that she remembered all too well came from 
somewhere below her left elbow. The well-remembered tones of Darliss' 
scorn drew her attention to the woman she had run into. "Here this 
House is falling apart, and a strapping warrior such as yourself is 
simply wandering about in a haze. You should be out there defending 
your Lord Hegan's home and honor!"

Charla's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed as she remembered 
the illusion that she had created for herself. With Hegan dead, and the 
rest of his people in rout, she could safely return to her normal 
appearance.

Her image shifted from that of a well-favored female warrior into that 
of a statuesque Mage of enormous talent. 

"Charla!" the noblewoman gasped. Her hatred knew no bounds for the 
beautiful Mage who now stared down on her in undisguised contempt.

"Are you the one who leads an army against my betrothed?" Darliss 
demanded, her face nearly purple with rage. 

"No," Charla replied with a smile, "the honor of defeating your fiance 
goes to Margul alone."

"Margul!" Darliss' eyes widening with surprise. "That is impossible! 
He has neither the military skills nor the passion to support him in 
such a foolish attack."

"Oh, he definitely has the passion," Charla murmured, shivering at the 
memory of the incredible fire Margul had lit in her only candlemarks 
before. "Fortunately, his underestimation of the depths of your 
stupidity is matched only by your misfortune in knowing him solely as 
the young man that he was when you left, and not the asset to House 
Forst that he has become." 

"He is no asset to *my* House," Darliss said peevishly.

"That much is true," Charla replied. She moved slightly so as to 
protect her aunt from the prying eyes that even now covetously 
measured the value of what was left of her gawdy accoutriments.

Darliss took Charla's momentary inattention for weakness and struck 
at the younger woman with a hand that would have done serious damage, 
had it not bounced off Charla's spell-enhanced aura.

"As I was saying," Charla said, barely acknowledging her aunt's attack, 
"as you claim the head of Dordinal as your future husband, the Forst 
council has decided that the House need not take responsibility for you 
and your support."

"I am Head of House. Only I can call the counsel into session," 
Darliss said, smirking at the apparent stupidity of the rival whose 
intelligence, beauty and skills she had envied when they were younger.

"*That* is not the case," Charla said flatly. Her satisfaction at 

springing the trap laid by Darliss' own poor treatment of those 
around her was clear to see. "The home-based faction of the House 
never ratified your seat in Forst, and the Fairwoods faction was more 
than happy to cast you off when Margul called them to do so last 
night."

"Lord Hegan will never permit you to carry out your plans," Darliss 
shrieked. Everything she had fought so hard to attain was slipping 
through her fingers like lamp oil. 

"Quite so," Charla agreed, smiling smugly at what she knew would 
come next. "For he is dead, and so unable to dish out the fate he had 
planned for you."

"Hegan -- dead!" The noblewoman was blessedly quiet for several 
moments. "What do you mean, his plans for me?" Darliss demanded, 
uncertainty showing in her formerly confident voice.

"It is actually rather simple," Charla replied. "Lord Hegan is now 
dead, and we have incontrovertible proof of his intention to kill you 
once your marriage was sealed and the marital agreement you 
signed was in full force."

"Nooooooooo!" Darliss screamed, unable to believe the news of Hegan's 
death, and unwilling to hear he had planned her execution as well.
 
"All true," Charla said, drawing out this moment in what she 
recognized, half-ashamedly, as churlish glee. "We found the papers 
detailing Dordinal's plans for your murder, in Hegan's script. He had 
them with him and, in his moribund condition, was unable to stop us 
from taking them."

The noblewoman stood quite speechless, unable to believe that she 
had been defeated so soundly by a pair of upstart children -- one of 
whom she had seen driven from Forst lands with her own eyes, and 
the other nearly destroyed by the loss of the woman he desired above 
all things. Darliss seemed to shrink before Charla's gaze, as 
recognizing the inevitable, all the fight fled from her, deflating her 
like a ruptured wineskin.

"What I don't know at the moment is what should be done with you," 
Charla murmured. "After all, you are now an outcast from House Forst, 
and not yet a true member of Dordinal."

Darliss said nothing, her mind turned inward on how all her plans could 
have gone so horribly wrong.

"No matter what, I think that I'd better take those robes and other 
finery from you. After all, they are Forst property," Charla decided, 
noting yet another group of bandits' covetous glances toward Darliss' 

clothes.

"You wouldn't," Darliss whispered hoarsely, but there was no power 
behind her words.

"As the brigands will if I don't, I think it best if I recover family 
property before it is lost," Charla told the other woman. She knew  
she was being insufferably smug, but was unable to resist baiting an 

enemy who had done so much to hurt her in the past.

"Then what will I wear?" Darliss cried, fear for her modesty 
temporarily overcoming her shock-benumbed mind.

"I think that I have a solution that will work quite nicely," Charla 
purred, a broad and incongruously mirthful smile crossing her face.


End of Chapter Twenty-Two


The Magician 3.5 - The Firebrand
by Suzanne  Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net; matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter - Spring 2001



Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00


Chapter Twenty Three 

Scene Two



"Excited?" Andalor looked fondly at his betrothed. They were alone 
together, a rare enough occurrence these days. Between Andalor's 
duties of state and Shannon's involvement in the wedding preparations, 
they had barely seen each other in passing.

"Excited. Thrilled. Nervous...."

"Nervous? Not about me, I hope. Not having any second thoughts, are 
you?" The King's tone was light, but there was just a tremor of the 
unsure adolescent in it.

"Never, Andalor. I'm afraid you're stuck with me forever." She pecked 
him lightly on the lips. "No, it's just that, after all the preparation 
for the Ritual of Readiness, now I have another ritual to learn."

He slipped his arms around her and drew her close, trying to ignore 
both the hardening in his groin and the insistent tapping at the door 
of the salon. "Well, it's not so bad -- I have much more to do in this 
one than you do--  All right! Come in!" he yelled, and grudgingly 
dropped his arms from around her waist.

Ballorca bustled through the door. "I trust I'm not interrupting 
anything?" he inquired archly.

"Not bloody much chance of that," muttered Andalor. Louder, he said, 
"Well, Minister Ballorca, you seem intent on seeing us. What is the 
problem now?"

"Problem? No problem, Sire. I merely wished to update you on the 
wedding plans and to get some information."

Yielding to the inevitable, the Royal Couple sat on one of the burgundy 
brocade settees and indicated for Ballorca to take a chair.

The official wasted no time. "Well, as Lady Shannon knows, the 
invitations have gone out, the musicians are practicing, the regalia 
is being made by the court seamstresses, and the menus have been 
planned."

Automatically, Andalor nodded. He had the groom's typical amount of 
interest in the proceedings -- little to none. As long as Shannon was 
happy and they could finally be wed and start their life together, he 
really didn't care about the details. He let Ballorca's drone recede 
into the background, preferring to occupy his mind with fantasies 
about the wedding night. It was only when he heard the unfamiliar 
rattle of Ballorca's chuckle that he returned his attention to the 
present.

"Oh, no, my Lady," the Protocol Minister tittered. "Most assuredly, 
the most highly born in the Realm will witness the wedding ritual 
and your crowning. No, I was speaking of the Witnesses." 


Confused, Shannon turned to her fiance. "What witnesses? What will 
they witness that everyone else will not? Is that like a Best Man or 
Maid of Honor or something? Andalor... what's wrong?"

The King froze. Truly, he had forgotten all about the Witnesses. 
While he was trying to think of a way of explaining their function 
without Shannon hitting the elaborately decorated ceiling of the 
salon, Ballorca broke in.

"Surely you know of our traditions, my Lady! The gaps in your 

knowledge are quite puzzling, I must say. Very well. The Witnesses 
watch the consummation of the Royal Marriage and announce to the 
Realm that it has taken place successfully. Now, usually the Witnesses 
are people close to the Royal Couple -- kinsmen, such as a Taabsut, 
would be completely appropriate, or close friends. I was thinking 
perhaps Reinald, Hannu and Lady Livirnea might be asked to serve, 
or perhaps Mage Mulder and Warrior Healer Scully." He blinked 
expectantly at the young couple.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly," Shannon said with 
remarkable, if tenuous, restraint. "You want us to choose some 
people who will... who will watch while Andalor and I... who will 
watch us as we...."

"Of course!" The Minister seemed surprised she would even ask.

Shannon's eyes grew wide. "Annndaaaalooooorrrr....?" Scudding clouds 
momentarily obliterated the sun while she fought for control.

The King smiled and folded her hand into his own. "It's all right, 
Shannon. Minister Ballorca, there will be no Witnesses."

The Minister's smile faltered for a moment, then returned. "Oh, I see 
what Your Majesty means. Yes. I can see that perhaps the particular 
Witnesses I mentioned may not be to your liking. Well, there is 
precedent for choosing strangers for this particular function. I can 
see where performing before those who are unknown to you might 
be less... stressful. It is irregular, to be sure, but in the case of 
King Herath IV and Queen Ardiss--"

"You misunderstand," the King said firmly. "There will be no Witnesses 
of any kind. None."

Ballorca's squeal mimicked that of Shannon short moments before. "Your 
Majesty! Sire! Surely, you are jesting!"

Andalor shook his head. "Oh no. I am quite serious."

"B-but our traditions!"

The King sighed. "Minister, I am completely in favor of those 
traditions that still have some sort of meaning for our people. But 
even you must admit that certain of our traditions have long been
unnecessary and even counter-productive. The Witnesses are not 
a part of a sacred ritual, but only a tradition that no King before me 
has had the good sense to eschew. In fact, do you know where the 
use of Witnesses started?"

Ballorca shut his gaping mouth to think. "No," he admitted finally. 
"But I am sure it was for good reason, begun so long ago that the 
rationale has been lost in the mists of time."

"No, I am afraid not. Check our history, Minister. You will find it 
quite enlightening, at times even scandalous and very amusing. It 
appears that the Witnesses were first called into service for King 
Gerath the First, who so despised the woman whom he was forced to 
marry that it was feared he would never consummate the marriage. 
Fortunately for Gerath, the one coupling was enough to produce a son, 
and it is said he never approached his queen again."

Andalor leaned over towards Ballorca. In a low voice, he said, "Now, 
if you think for a single moment that it will take the presence of 
Witnesses for me to bed my beautiful and adored Shannon, then you are 
truly demented and should be removed from your post. Our marriage 
*will* be consummated that night. Probably many times that night," he 
said with a wink to Shannon, who blushed and covered her giggle with 
her hand. "Witnesses will just be a distraction, and counter-productive 
to the process. I have not had to take cold baths almost daily for the 
last dozen moon-cycles for no reason, Minister. Trust me, I have both 
the will and the ability. There is no cause for concern. Now, if there 
is nothing else...?"

Dazed, Ballorca shook his head and rose, muttering to himself as he 
exited the salon.

"Was that true, Andy? Was it true what you said?"

"Which part? About the cold baths, or King Gerath? Yes, it was all 
quite true."

"No, idiot," she smiled fondly, snuggling closer to him on the couch. 
"About how you think I'm beautiful, and that you adore me."

Andalor took her in his arms. "Yes, my love. All true. And in a few 
weeks, I'll be able to show you how very much I adore you." He kissed 
her on the mouth, warmly, deeply. They were both trembling by the 
time it ended.

"But in the meantime... more cold baths," he sighed.


*     *      *     *


A tremendous sense of peace gathered around the victorious army as 
it moved toward Forst's citadel.  Happily, it was far too large to be 
threatened by any band of mercinaries or brigands no matter how daring.  
Besides, a good many brigands had been killed in the recent fighting.  
As a result, Charla was confident that the roads of the Realm would 
see many season-cycles of peace. Sadly, her own heart was not nearly 
so quiet.

The war was over and rumor ran rampant that Forst had used Black 
Magic in its victory over Dordinal. She was sure Reinald would now 

call her to him. She also knew well Margul would be called to 
Andalor's court to answer for his recent actions. He would not run 
from what he had done and so would respond to His Majesty's summons. 
Much as she didn't want to go to Fairwoods, she had sworn herself to 
his side the night before the battle at Hotsprings. She would go with 
him --  a decision that would make a confrontation with Reinald a 
certainty. Her fear of the possible outcome of such a meeting was 
nearly as strong as her desire to protect Margul with a shielding 
spell the night before the battle of Hotsprings.

Had he known all of this, Ghalbar would have left her to her 
contemplations. Of course, he didn't have a healer's telepathy and so, 
seeing her pain, he dropped back in their line of march in hopes of 
offering whatever counsel he could.

"What bothers you so?" he asked, his voice nearly startling her off of 
the surprisingly ugly mount that she had chosen for the ride home.

After a moment's pause to ensure her shield's integrity she turned to 
him, face taut with the weight of her decisions.

"You know much of what bothers me," she sighed, not really wanting 
to reveal what was on her mind. 

"Some, yes," Ghalbar nodded, "but much as he knows of what lies on 
your heart, Margul has been unable to engage you in conversation for 
nearly two days. Most of the rest of us haven't had a word from you 
since you left what remains of Dordinal's seat, and so we know even 
less than the little than he does."

A moment passed while she thought back on recent days. She relaxed 
slightly, recognizing that she had been truly insufferable of late.

"In many ways he is as much the cause of my pain as he is the source 
of my joy," Charla replied, looking forward toward the head of the 
column where Margul rode. "I must go with him to explain our actions 

to King Andalor. You have heard the rumors that abound. It is being 
said everywhere that I employed the Black Arts to help Margul defeat
Dordinal. My past experience with Royal Mage Reinald was most... 
unhappy. I am under no illusion whatsoever he will have the smallest 
amount of mercy when he hears the charges against me. The fact that 
I used no black spells, that everything I did was in the cause of what 
we and many others believed was right, will not make a difference. 
And if I am labeled a Black Mage, Margul is in no less jeopardy, as he 
will be charged with consorting with me for his own ends."

Ghalbar looked her right in the eyes. "Do you think that what you did 
was right?" 

"Yes," Charla replied firmly. "I did the right thing in helping to free 
Cresscreek and used no inappropriate magic in doing so. But Mage 
Reinald will certainly find fault with what I did and will do 
everything he can to destroy me."

"Are you so sure?" Ghalbar asked. Nothing he had heard about the 
Royal Mage would lead him to believe him capable of such a punishment.

"More so than you can possibly imagine," Charla confirmed, her voice 
heavy with dread.

"Then why not run away?" Ghalbar asked, curious.

"I can't do that!" Charla exclaimed, turning eyes burning with tears 
and more on the younger man. "Margul would run with me and all 
we have built in the last months would be swept aside in less time 
than it took to fashion."

"A terrible choice indeed," Ghalbar admitted, his formerly brash 
character now subdued by months of hard labor in support of his 
family's resurrection.

"I have wrought my own fate," Charla sighed. "Had I not 
pledged myself to Margul and given him my love, I might have been 
able to run from what must now happen."


"Not true," Ghalbar countered, "He made a pledge of equal strength 
to you many season-cycles ago and would do anything to see it through 
now. You must not blame yourself for the position that he has -- and 
will -- put himself in where you are concerned. It is also true that 
you must not blame him for the choices that you have made. He loves 
you greatly and would do anything for you. Much as you would for him. 
What you must now do, hard though this will be for one who has had to 
survive on her own for so long, is to trust that his love will bring 
him to find a way to protect you. Your love made it possible for you to 
find a way to make his dreams come true, and his will do the same for 
you. You must give him -- and the rest of us -- time to work our own 
particular magic on your behalf." 

Her spirits lightened at Ghalbar's words, for she knew that they 
contained more than a little truth. "I shall, and thank you for what 
you will do for me, 'Mage Ghalbar'," she laughed, giving him a 
brilliant smile in thanks for his kindness.

"At your service, my lady." he concurred with a slight bow. The mood 
held for a moment and then a slight shift in Ghalbar's expression told 
Charla he had yet more to ask of her. "While we are speaking of the 
combination of politics and magic, I wanted to ask you what had been 
done about Darliss. Margul doesn't seem to know and yet you told him 
that the matter was under control."

"Yes," Charla agreed. "I have the problem under control for now."

"If I may ask...?" Ghalbar prodded, curiosity painted on his features.

"You probably shouldn't," Charla said with a little laugh. 

"I hope that it wasn't fatal," Ghalbar demanded.  A sliver of the fear 
he had once held with respect to his kinswoman twisted in his stomach.

"No," Charla assured him. "But I had to be creative in order to get 
both her, and the vast amount of treasure that she had taken with her, 
out of Dordinal's seat."

"Creative in what sense of the word?" Ghalbar pressed.

"I had to find a way to get her and the Forst family jewels out of 
Dordinal's seat," Charla repeated. "But there were far too many of 
them to carry directly and I couldn't exactly walk out with the enemy 
Householder's betrothed under my control. Had I done so, one of the 
many troopers who remained loyal to Hegan after his death would 
have attacked either or both of us...." At this she paused for a 
moment, gathering herself against what she must say next.  

"So?" prodded Ghalbar, fascinated yet almost dreading the response.

"...  So I turned her into a horse and packed her with everything 
of Forst that I could find."

"You turned her into a horse....." Ghalbar repeated, the light of some 
horribly twisted comprehension dawning in his eyes.

"And carried off the family jewels," Charla concluded flatly.

"And where is she now?" Ghalbar demanded.

For answer, Charla simply nudged the ugly beast on which she rode 
in the flank, allowing Ghalbar to figure it out for himself. 

End of Chapter Twenty-Three




THE MAGICIAN 3.5: THE FIREBRAND
By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
(magician@galaxy.med.yale.edu, ecksphile@earthlink.net)
Winter - Spring 2001


Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00


Chapter Twenty Four

The Forst council chamber was crowded as it had not been for 
hundreds of season-cycles. Nearly the entire family was home for 
the first time in longer than most could remember. This alone was 
sufficient reason for the crowding of the great room. The fact that 
dozens of nobles from the Houses that had declared for Forst were 
also present strained the great manor's hospitality to the maximum. 
Fortunately, Margul's demands that all who sheltered under his roof 
act with decorum and civility toward each other had gone a long way 
to ensuring peace.

More than a few faced the upcoming meeting with a great deal of 
fascination. The family had won tremendous territory and much wealth 
in the recently completed campaign and curiosity abounded as to 
Margul's response to the enormous change in his fortunes and those 
of his House. The first test would be his handling of the Darliss 
situation.  

A silence gathered over the room when Margul stepped through the 
great southern door, a portal that had not been used for centuries. 
One of his ancestors had declared that this artfully carved entrance 
would not again be used until such time as the family had won a final
victory over Dordinal. Though some were unsure of the permanence 
of Forst's gains, Margul was sufficiently confident in his new-found 
power to feel justified in choosing to enter the great chamber in this 
way.

"My friends," he said quietly after assuming his seat, "we have much 
to celebrate on this day. I will not keep you from the party for longer 

than necessary."

General sounds of approval swept the room at this statement.

"Unfortunately, there are problems this family and its new allies must 
face. Many of these will be handled in the traditional way. I am sure 
we will see a profusion of marriage celebrations and trade agreements 
in this part of the Realm. We will see a period of joy not rivaled 
since the rule of Balkast the Venerable in a time when writing was but 
newly given to us by the gargoyles. I, for one, anticipate these 
celebrations. They will represent a chance for our Houses, many of 
which have been wrongly divided by Dordinal, to reorder themselves 
and build a new future."

"A pretty speech," cried one of the nobles who sat at the long table, 
"but how do we know that we haven't traded one oppressive overlord 
for another?"

"You don't," Margul told the other, his voice hard. "But the fact that 
you felt safe enough to challenge me openly when a Mage of Charla's 
talent stands at my side should be some sign -- even to you -- of 
your confidence in what you have heard of me and those who serve me."

The other had no choice but to sit back, tacitly admitting that Margul 
had a point.

"As another sign of my belief that all stories should be told before a 
decision is taken, I will now allow Darliss to explain to all of us 

-- including the village head at Cresscreek -- why she thought  
Dordinal would serve as better protection for that village than those 
of Forst, who have seen to its welfare since nearly the time of the 
founding of this House. Hopefully she will also be able to explain why 
she thought Hegan's contract represented a wise bargain for any save 
herself."

At this, Darliss was led into the room, clothed as a member of the 
council. The shocked glances passing between those who sat around 
the table told Margul that he had, yet again, surprised many with his 
forbearance.

Margul needed say little in introduction, so when she found her place 
at the table, he prompted her to begin her story. "Your statement?"

Darliss made every effort to come off as the wounded Head of House 
some part of her still seemed to think she was. 

"How do you play Head of House when that role is truly mine?" she 
demanded of him.

"Because he has the right to play that role," Alkara, the new mayor of 
Cresscreek remonstrated from where she leaned against the wall. "While 
you were consorting with your family's enemies, Margul did as any true 
Head of House should. He marshaled the resources of his clan and its 
allies to making good the oaths that his forefathers had sworn to the 
villages they promised to protect. He found a way to free my village 
and remove the threat that the Dordinal scavengers posed to nearby 
villages like Fawnleaf. He managed to find out what was going on 
behind the horrid walls that his enemies were forcing my people to 
build, and when the time came, he had the things needed to rebuild 
Cresscreek ready at hand. You did none of these things, save possibly 
making a shamefully self-serving effort to ensure our safety -- an 
effort doomed to fail since you never took the time needed to find out 
whether the lies that Hegan told you had any truth behind them."

"I was given assurances," Darliss whined.

"That you were," Margul agreed, retaking control of the meeting, "and 
never checked their veracity, never went to see the suffering of the 
beings first hand, and never worked to see that things would change 
once the truth was known to you -- as it must certainly have been, had 
you only listened."

"I never!" Darliss cried. Then she hesitated when the faint memory 
of the warning given her by a young troll trader who had passed 
through Cresscreek late the previous autumn touched her mind. Her 
mouth gaped open in sudden horror, realizing that Hegan's duplicity 
was probably fact, rather than what she had continued to hope was a 
mere invention of the Mage-gifted bitch who ultimately managed to 
defeat her.

"Exactly," Alkara's voice came to her. "You never checked because you 
were too concerned with your own dreams to take the responsibility 
that a truly great Head of House wears as I wear the mantle of my own 
office. Margul has worn that mantle well, and I for one, hope that he 
does so for many season-cycles to come."

The cheering and foot-stomping that greeted this speech were 
overwhelming to Darliss. For the first time she realized she had lost 
much more than mere dreams of a marriage and children of her own. 
She now saw that she had also lost her chance at the power she had 
craved since she was a young child. But there was one thing she could 
do to bring down those who had plotted against her and who had killed 
her husband-to-be as a part of their victory over her.

"Whether your charges against me are true or not, I have my own truth 
to reveal here," she cried, bringing the violent expression of support 
for Margul to a sudden halt. When silenced had returned to the room 
she began speaking, the pleasure at what she was about to say twisting 
her face into a grotesque parody of a smile.  "I wish to charge Mage 
Charla with the use of Black Magic, and Margul with ordering her to 
employ it."

A profound silence gripped the chamber.   

"On what do you base these charges?" Ghalbar demanded.

"She turned me into a beast of burden and forced me to divulge the 
location of the jewels that I brought with me from Fairwoods to my new 
home."

She did not hear the murmured charge that she had probably stolen them, 
but Margul did. His storm-eyed gaze caught the warrior Vestra's anger-
filled eyes before they could flick back to the table-top before her. The 
older warrior blushed deeply, embarassed that she had been caught 
in such a lapse of control.

"How did she force you?" a quiet voice asked from one of the room's 
smaller gathering tables.

"She... she... she threatened to leave me to the packs of vermin who 
were all about Lord Hegan's home. She told me she could either take 
the jewels back to the family herself or bring me back to you and let 
me explain how they had been lost."

"I have heard nothing that would lead me to think her a Black Mage in 
this," replied the Mage Vandira, who had been village mage at Forst for 
longer than anyone at the table could remember. "Did she do or say 
anything else before she turned you into a beast of burden?" she 
continued, nearly certain of Darliss' answer.

"No, but she could have affected my mind in some way as to cause 
me to forget what she did."

"Did you?" Vandira demanded of Charla, who rose immediately, knowing 
how important it was that those who were sensitive to auras could see 
as well as hear her.

"The only spell I cast against her was the transformation spell," she 
replied. "I did not need to force her to tell me where the jewels were 
as she was more than willing to tell me of them on her own. I did not 
use Black Magic against her, and in fact, have never practiced it."

A sigh of relief broke over the chamber as the elves and other beings 
sensitive to aural fluctuations saw that Charla had not lied.  

"As her aura shows her to be telling us the truth, I see no basis in 
your charges," Vandira declared. "The use of magic to turn one 
being into another is certainly not black in its nature, and without 
doing so, she would never have been able to see to your safety while 
recovering what belongs to House Forst. All in all, I think her 
actions wise and well-measured."

"And what do the rest of you think?" Ghalbar demanded, knowing Margul 
could not pose the question himself.

Although understated at first, the response that met his question left 
no doubt as to the council's belief in Charla's innocence. It went 
without saying Margul must also be so, and Ghalbar didn't waste time 
on unnecessary pandering to his great aunt's agenda.   

"Then I see only one other matter for our consideration," Margul said, 
relieved that this river had been forded, "and that is the disposition 
of the Lady Darliss." 

"Disposition?" Darliss demanded, only barely able to sense the danger 
that now surrounded her.

"And a bad one it is indeed," a voice murmured from the opposite end 
of the table. A burst of laughter greeted the comment, effectively 
lightening the tension that had gripped the room.

Margul waited for the mirth to pass before turning his attention to 
Ghalbar. "I felt that neither Charla nor I could lead the council 
effectively in its search for a just conclusion to this matter. I, 
therefore, asked Ghalbar to lead our discussions this morning. He 
will now read our decision."

Ghalbar rose, his features calm under the authority that he had been 
given. "After careful consideration of the facts in the matter, and the 
damage done to Mage Charla and our family as a whole by Darliss' 
actions, the inner council of House Forst has decided to exile her to 
our holdings at the headwaters of the Greenswan river. She will 
reside there for the rest of her days and will have no contact with 
the outside world save that by the Head of House or as ordered by 
His Majesty the King. There will be no objection statement to this 
decision and she will begin serving her sentence immediately." 

With these words pronounced, Ghalbar relaxed into his chair while 
the guards who would see Darliss to her future entered. They bore her 
off toward the boat in which she would begin the journey to the 
desolate land which would be her final home.

Although there were few in the room who held any love for her, the 
swiftness of Darliss' departure came as a surprise to those who were 
used to civility in the council chamber. Knowing this well, Margul 
rose, ready to divert his family and its guests with a victory 
celebration unmatched in Forst's long history.

"Unless there is other business, I suggest we all take part in the 
merry-making that the younger generation has been enjoying for 
some time now."

"Agreed!" Ghalbar cried. He was younger than many of those who had 
not been invited to the council. He still enjoyed dancing and the 
fruits of the vintner's labors as well.

Many of the older nobles smiled at his enthusiasm. However, none 
objected to the thought of a celebration, and the doors of the chamber 
were soon crowded with those who were hastening to the party. All were 
impatient to remove themselves from the responsibilities that had lain 
heavily on their shoulders for so long.

The rush of bodies covered Margul's quick movement to Charla's side. 
For though the family's business might be completed, there were 
important matters that they had to discuss.

"What is it?" Charla asked once the room had cleared and they had 
reseated themselves at the table.

"I wanted to talk with you about our forthcoming journey to Fairwoods," 
he said, voice strong with purpose.

"What journey?" she asked, not aware of any set plans to go to the 
royal seat.

"The journey that you and I must make before King Andalor and the 
Royal Mage summon us there."

"Why must we go before they call for us?" Charla cried. Her voice was 
sharp with the terror that gripped her heart at the thought of a 
confrontation with Reinald.

"Because if we go before we are summoned, we will gain something 
in the eyes of the King and not lose anything in Reinald's view -- 
whatever that may be."

"You know what I think he will say," Charla snapped, angered that 
Margul would so blatantly disregard her opinion.

He folded her hand into his own. "I do, and I believe you as much as 
I love you." he said gently. "But I also know that we will do ourselves 
a favor if we go before the King now."

"You may," Charla said petulantly, "but I risk my life by going before 
Reinald now."

"And won't that risk be just as great on the day that Andalor summons 
me to him?" he asked reasonably, knowing that she would not stay 
behind. "For you know that he will call me to him."

"Yes," Charla said softly, her defenses crumbling before Margul's 
logic.

"Then let us go together before we are summoned so I will have the 
maximum possible credibility with His Majesty when I tell him you 
have done nothing wrong. Credibility I must have if the confrontation 
you fear is to be avoided."

"You are right, for what little good it will do me." Charla sighed 

deeply, her normally imposing figure seeming to shrink before 
Margul's eyes.

"Trust me in this and all will come out well." Margul encouraged, 
only dimly aware of the depth of his lover's fear. "Do as I ask of 
you in the next few days and all will work out for the best."

"I will," Charla whispered, tears flowing in great rivers down 
her cheeks. She then rose and ran from the room before Margul 
could do or say anything more to comfort her.

He sat down heavily, knowing that although he had won a tremendous 
battle against his enemies, an even greater one might lie before him.

A gentle tapping on the door roused him from his funk and he rose to 

let whatever being might desire his attention into the room. He was 
surprised to see that his visitor was Mage Vandira.

"And what can I do for you, Mage?" he asked after offering her the 
obligatory tea.

"I think, lord Margul, in this case we should be discussing what I can 
do for you." she countered, sipping from the cup he had prepared for 
her.

"I see...."

"I feel I have had much to do with the way things are working out 
in this House and hope I can repair some of my mistakes." She 
sighed, not wanting to tell the story that she knew she must. "Many 
season-cycles ago I met a young Mage-gifted child whom I knew 
would be one of the great Mages of our time. I didn't have the skill to 

train one such as her and so, even though she begged me not to tell 
Lord Ian, I spoke of her growing talents with him. Only a few short 
moon-cycles later, she was sent to train with the Royal Mage Reinald. 
I watched as she was taken away from the one person who loved her, 
heart breaking a little more with every stroke of the oarsmen's 
paddles. I knew then that I had made a terrible mistake and swore I 
would do whatever I could to help her if she returned here -- though I 
knew mine would be the last assistance she would accept.  

"When I was told, some seasons later, that she was returning, her 
training with the Royal Mage at a premature end, I knew my time had 
come. I did what I could to ensure that guards who were friendly to 
her would be waiting for her. But one of them happened to mention 
the change in his schedule at a time when Lord Ian was sure to hear 
of it. Little time passed before Ian's investigation told him of Charla's 
return. He needed even less to blanket the entire region with guards, 
all intent on driving her away from a family that had disavowed her 
existence and declared her an enemy. Only now, twenty-five season 
cycles later, am I given the chance to make reparations to Charla for 
the hurts I have done her."

"What can you do?" Margul asked.

"I would like to attend your party on its way to Fairwoods, and speak 

with the King about her actions over the last few moon-cycles. She is 
innocent of any charge where the use of Black Magic is concerned, 
and I have it on good authority that Mage Reinald is determined to see 
her charged as a Black Mage if he can."

"Who is your source?" Margul demanded, certain that Dordinal must 
have a hand in this.

"Lita, chief servant at Fairwoods Castle is a second cousin on my 
father's side and has kept me up to date on the events there since the 
beginning of this spring's campaign. She is utterly loyal to King 
Andalor and to her family as well.  If she tells me Reinald has been 
angered by what he mistakenly believes Charla has done, I -- and 
you -- must believe her."

"Then what good will your testimony do?" Margul exploded, horrified 
that Charla's fears concerning Reinald's likely actions were proving 
justified.

"Both King Andalor and Mage Reinald will have to listen to me as an 
observer who knows magic well and lives near your family seat. I 
am told that the King is not at all sure that Charla is guilty of the 
things Reinald thinks she is. He will have to listen to me and give 
my word much weight when it comes time to bring the matter before 
the Council at Fairwoods. With the Houses loyal to you and the 
support of the elves -- who will believe my report as well -- Charla 
should be safe."

"I see," Margul said with a sigh of relief. "In that case, Mage 
Vandira, I would be honored to have you as a guest of our family 
when we make the ride to Fairwoods Castle. We will leave at first 
light on the day after the morrow. I look forward to seeing you then."

She bowed deeply, and left Margul to consider what he had been 
told.  Hopefully, he thought as he rose to find Charla, Vandira's help 
would be enough to save both of them -- Charla from the Royal Mage, 
and Margul from the insanity and death that would surely be his if she 
were lost to him.   


End of Chapter Twenty Four



THE MAGICIAN, BOOK 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter 2001


Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00


Chapter Twenty-Five

Andalor strode through the hallways, his expression making him 
uncharacteristically unapproachable. His brows were knit in a frown 
as he mulled over the news from Hotsprings and his continued 
difference of opinion with Reinald. Just as things looked like they 
might be getting better between him and his old mentor, the 
announcement of Forst's incredible victory at Hotsprings touched 
off the Royal Mage's suspicions once more, dividing them as deeply 
as ever.


The two had barely exchanged words for nearly two weeks now, and
the strain was affecting more than just them. Shannon had feared that 
Andalor was, in spite of his words to Ballorca, indeed having second 
thoughts, so deep was his gloom. Finally he had shared with her the 
cause of his depression, finding her more than understanding, and 
furthering the bonds of love and trust between them. Pitir was not so 
lucky, as Reinald found fault with nearly everything the poor little 
apprentice did. Even Lita had had words with the Royal Mage about the 
rudeness with which the servants were being treated of late, the elven 
servant giving better than she got, to no one's surprise. The Mage 
grudgingly apologized to her. And even Jourdain had come to Andalor, 
deeply concerned about his friend's extended miserable mood.

The only other argument he had ever had with Reinald had been over 
Shannon, Andalor mused. And even then, the Royal Mage was able to 
see the King's point of view; it was only that he could not think of an 
alternative. This was the first time Reinald completely refused even 
to consider another opinion. The King's frustration flared again at 
the stubbornness of the elderly Mage.

He arrived finally at the door to his chambers. Dorbo, who also had 
been treated to flashes of the Royal temper, set freshly-made tea on 
the table by the fireplace and made an excuse to leave. Sighing, 

Andalor threw himself into an armchair by the ashes of the hearth. 
Something had to be done -- neither he, nor Reinald, nor the 
inhabitants of Fairwoods Castle could withstand much more of this.
This was supposed to be a happy time, a time of celebration with his 
wedding and the crowning of a Queen. Instead....

Sighing again, Andalor pulled an oracle crystal from his pocket. He 
had a strong feeling that this particular duty was not going to do 
anything to improve his mood. Murmuring the words Reinald had 
taught him so long ago, Andalor concentrated and was at length 
rewarded by seeing the flare of light and color from the crystal.

"Mulder? Is that you?"

If Andalor had thought Mulder looked unwell the last time they 
spoke, nothing could have prepared him for his friend's appearance 
now. He hoped he did not look as shocked as he felt, as he took in 
Mulder's red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes bordered in smudgy dark 
circles. The man looked like he hadn't eaten a meal nor slept a 
candlemark in days. It was evidently night wherever the Mage was -- 
the only illumination came from what must have been a very dim lamp, 
somewhere out of the field of Andalor's vision.

Mulder's voice was a hoarse whisper. "Shh. Hold on a sec, Andalor. 
Scully's had a tough day and she's finally sleeping." The colors swam 

for several moments, then there was more light and the sound of a door 
closing. "That's better. Well, I hope you have good news from the 
Professor."

Andalor's heart sank. He had been hoping for good news from Mulder, 
that their terrible case was over. Just from the man's haggard 
appearance, he could tell that there was little chance of that.

"Didn't set fire to you this time, did I?" the King asked, desperate 
to lighten the mood.

The agent's lips twitched in what was supposed to be a smile. "Not 
this time. Did the Professor work a miracle?"

"I'm afraid not. He did say though that the effects using an oracle 
crystal would probably not be so pronounced as using the Oracle Cloud. 
He began to explain why, but I couldn't follow it. Mage Mulder, no 
offence, but you look awful."

Mulder rubbed his face tiredly. "I haven't been sleeping. We've had 
three more dead kids. Scully had to do two of the autopsies today, 
and it really shook her up. The bitch of it is, I think I know who's 
responsible, but none of the local law enforcement will believe it. 
We're going to have to collect the evidence and put together an 
airtight case, because this guy will walk if we don't. He's got such 
a following in this town that even if we caught him in the act, I 
don't think anyone would believe it."

"I'm so sorry, Mulder. I was selfishly hoping that you would say 
that the case was over...."


"The news from the Professor isn't good, I take it?"

"Actually, it couldn't be much worse," Andalor sighed. "It appears 
the gel-flow of time is more active and convoluted than usual, which 
is why it took him so long to come up with the calculations. For a 
short period, Realm time will briefly speed up in relation to time 
in your world, making it necessary for you to leave in only three of 

your days if you are to get here for the ceremony. What makes matters 
worse is then Realm time will abruptly slow and retreat in relation to 
your world, so that spending even two days here would equate to 
nearly two weeks in your world." Andalor shrugged. "I didn't think it 
looked good." He hated to bring his friend this news. If anyone 
deserved and needed some good news now, it was Mulder.


"Shit." He rubbed his eyes and blinked blearily. "I guess it was too 
much to hope for. I'm sorry, Andalor. It breaks my heart not to be 
able to be there for your wedding. Shannon's going to be a beautiful 
bride, and I would give anything to see her. But we can't. Well, I 
can't, anyway. Maybe Scully can get away, but I doubt she'd leave 
me right now. You know how she worries, especially with these kinds of 
cases.... With the attitude of local law enforcement on this case, it's 
pretty sure that no one but me is going to be able to bring this 
monster to justice. I can't walk away from that, no matter how much I 
might want to."

"I understand, Mulder. I'm disappointed, but I understand."

He smiled grimly. "Yes, I believe you do, Andalor. You better than 
anyone knows about the chains of responsibility and duty. You've 
been living with them all your life." He paused for a moment, then 
went on. "You know, you don't look so good yourself. Not having cold 
feet about the wedding, are you?"

Andalor laughed. "No! Goddess, no. If there's one thing I'm sure of, 
it's that I love Shannon and want her to be with me always."

"Then would it have something to do with Reinald?" he guessed 
shrewdly.

"It shows that much, huh?" Andalor sighed. "Yes, I thought it would 
be impossible for you not to pick up on it. You are pretty sensitive 
about that sort of thing."

"Well, it's my job to pick up on things like that. All right, tell 
Uncle Mulder what's going on."

"No, Mulder, you have enough on your plate right now."


"Believe it or not, it's therapeutic for me to be able to occupy my 
mind with something other than the sick bastard we've been chasing. 
Go on, shoot."

So the King told him everything - about the political situation with 
Margul and Forst, Charla and her talents, the reports from the field, 
Reinald's insistence that the Black Arts were involved and his taking 
Andalor's disagreement as betrayal.

"Ever since then, he has been a different person," Andalor continued 
mournfully. "Ill-tempered, stubborn, terrorizing poor Pitir. I know I 
have never felt so alone, like my right arm is missing or something. 
Possibly he feels the same, I cannot say. But I cannot agree with him 
on this, Mulder. I really believe that this Charla has not used Black 
Magic. There's no evidence to support it."

"Scully would be proud of you, Andalor, insisting on evidence," Mulder 
smiled.


"Shannon said that she thinks Reinald is losing it. What is 'losing 
it', Mulder?"

He barked out a laugh and quickly stifled it, for fear of waking his 
sleeping bondmate. "That sounds like Shannon. 'Losing it' means 
losing his mind, going insane or possibly senile." Seeing Andalor's 
blank look, he explained, "Senility is a disease that very old people 
in my world sometimes get."

"Reinald is old, but he is not that old."

The agent smiled and shook his head. "I know. No, Andalor, I don't 
think Reinald is losing it. I think there's two things at work here, 
maybe three. First, there is Reinald's history with Charla. I think 
he might have been quite fond of her, had great expectations for 
her gifts. Looked upon her as a protegee, someone with whom he 
could work, and who might even take his place as Royal Mage one 
day. When she insisted on knowing the Black Arts, I think he felt 
betrayed and his hopes for her were crushed. I'm willing to bet he 
probably didn't invest such interest in another apprentice for quite 
a long time afterwards."

"Probably not until you came, Mage Mulder."

"Possibly," the agent agreed. "Or maybe Tarnor."

"So what's the second thing?"

"I think he's scared shitless of the Black Arts. After the devastation 
of the Realm thanks to the Dark Queen, I think he's terrified of any 
Mage with a lot of power who also has knowledge of Black Magic. 
And especially with it being this particular Mage with whom he has 
a past. He is prejudiced against her, and doesn't want to give her 
the opportunity to betray him again."

"Makes sense." Andalor nodded. "In fact, I pointed out to him that 
he had a very unbalanced reaction to even the rumor that the Black 
Arts had been used. But you said maybe three. What's the third?"

Mulder shrugged. "Reinald has been like a father to you ever since 
you were a small child. I think a lot of what he's dealing with is what 
every parent has to deal with eventually. He's having a hard time 
coping with the fact that you've grown up. He still sees you as that 
small boy with the old eyes, the child who had tragically lost both 
parents, and would have to be prepared to take on all the problems 
of the Realm. A part of him still feels that you should need his 
advice as much now as you ever did."

"But that's the truth, Mulder! I do!"

"I know that, and you know that. But does he? Not only is he frightened 
that, by not listening to him, you and the Realm will be endangered. 
Another part of him is afraid that you don't need him anymore."

Andalor considered what Mulder had said. "So I should convince him 
I still need him...."

Quietly, Mulder said, "I can talk to him for you, if you want."

The King was silent for several moments. "No.... No, thank you so much 
for the offer, Mage Mulder, especially now, with everything you have on 
your mind. But this is something I really must do myself. I just hope 
I say the right thing."

"You will, Andalor. I have every confidence in you. You are an 
extraordinary young man."

A faint pink blush came to the King's cheeks. "Thank you, Mulder. I 
value your words more than you can know." 

"And thank you for letting me get my mind off things here. It helped, 
it really did.  Please give Shannon my regrets. You have no idea how 
much I want to be there. But it's just not possible."

"Shannon will understand, Mulder. She won't be happy, but she'll 
understand."

"Scully and I will try to get in touch when this case is over. We 
still have a hell of a stock of crystals, and have made far too little 
use of them. And don't hesitate to call if either of you needs 
anything. Er... you know about the... the, ah, facts of life and 
everything, right?"

Andalor roared with laughter. "This is the Realm! Younglings know 
about such things from early childhood. And don't worry about 
Shannon in that department, either. With the chaperones and bloody 
Ballorca, we unfortunately have not been able to spend much time 
together, and of course there is protocol to be observed. But from 
what Shannon has whispered in my ear, I would say she has an 
excellent theoretical knowledge of married life."

Mulder laughed as well, but seemed relieved. "Well, my offer remains 
open, just in case. Please take care of yourself, Andalor. You are as 
much a part of my family as Shannon is, and I want you to be rested 
and ready to put all of Shannon's theoretical knowledge to good use."

"I will, Mulder. And thank you."

The colors in the crystal dimmed.

*     *      *      *

A sharp rap on the door of the west receiving room told Andalor his 
guest had arrived. The human servant who was responsible for the 
room allowed Lord Margul to enter, and hastened to serve tea. The 
young man withdrew silently in order to ensure the privacy that the 
King desired. Andalor looked at his guest, taking his measure. It did 
not take him long to realize the sharp gray eyes were doing the same 
for him. He was both pleased and reassured to see respect and a 
certain gentleness in their depths.

"I thank you for coming of your own free will. I know that the road 

from your seat to the castle has been badly affected by storms of 
late. I hope it did not make your journey too difficult," Andalor 
opened.  He hoped that his tone as well as his words would assure 
the new Head of House Forst that he did not want this meeting to be 
any more confrontational than necessary.

"Too many things have happened of late for me to avoid coming," Margul 
said impassively. "Aside from the political changes, I had another 
reason for seeking an audience with you."

Andalor's brows rose. "I see. And that would be...?"

"Yes...."  Margul paused, gathering his thoughts. "I need to speak with 
you about the likely disposition of my House and its recovered lands, 
of course. But more importantly, I have come in hopes of gaining relief 
for Charla. She believes herself to be at risk of unfair judgment under 

the royal decree against those who know how to use Black Magic."

"Each is a difficult matter," Andalor parried, surprised that Margul 
would have made Charla a part of the negotiations of his own accord. 
"Dordinal has been badly hurt by your actions, and the northern Houses 
have captured almost a quarter of the territory that Hegan's family 
once held. Some minor families have been destroyed altogether. 
Needless to say, Dordinal is angered by the loss of their allies, not 
to mention vast tracts of territory."

"As well they might be," Margul agreed. "But you must know I will 
not return what I have gained, and with the lost Houses wanting 
to reinstall Norwood as their leading House, I am sure the pressure 
to return to their former lands will be great within Norwood as well. 
A difficult situation indeed."

"The other Houses seem willing to accept things as they now stand." 
Andalor chuckled dryly. "Why should they not? Dordinal was becoming 
a danger to all of them. But there is a great deal of grumbling, and I am 
not sure that I will be able to keep Dordinal from trying to get 
redress against either you or Norwood in the future."

"That is your problem, not mine." Margul remonstrated, voice hard with 
the certainty of his position.

"It is, save for the fact that both of us have the other problem you 
mentioned, one that could seriously upset all of the Houses and which 
causes me much trouble in my own family."

"Mage Charla."

"Yes." The King replied, drawing himself up in his seat. "The other 
Houses have been badly frightened by Charla and her gifts. Even more 
difficult for me is the fact that Mage Reinald is near to demanding 
she be stripped of her powers as a Black Mage. As he is Royal Mage, I 
would be unable to stop him from bringing the matter to the Council, 
unjust though I think his action might be. Needless to say, Dordinal, 
Maalfees and their allies would support him, and the vote would be 
extremely close."  

"Mage Vandira chose to accompany our party specifically because 
she knows Charla to be innocent of the charges. The elves who were 
present for her testimony were certain her aura never flickered when 
she denied using Black Magic. Vandira, who is an elf as well, has 
spoken of this to Prince Mavor's representative and is also willing to 
testify to you." 

"All well and good. Unfortunately, Reinald is acting out of emotion 
where Charla is concerned," Andalor responded with a sigh. "I have 
already damaged my relationship with him by supporting her right to 
remain unaffected without direct proof of a use of Black Magic. Since 
their gains depended on her powers, your allies will support her for 
now. They would be foolish not to since they would incriminate 
themselves if they supported Reinald's resolution. Mage Vandira's 
testimony could prove invaluable in clearing Charla of Reinald's 
suspicions."

Margul nodded and seemed ready to rise to his feet. "Then we should 
find Vandira and make sure she sees the Royal Mage as quickly as 
possible."

Andalor interrupted Margul's momentum, holding up his hand. "I 
understand better than you might think how important it is to you 
that Charla's name be cleared. I, too, have had to fight for the 
woman I love. But Charla is not our only problem. There will be 
great consternation and instability as a result of the political 
changes you have wrought. For that reason, it would not be wise for 
you to return to your seat right now. Others would interpret this as 
an attempt at an undue consolidation of your gains."       

"So what do you suggest?" Margul asked. He felt his respect for the 
King growing. His assessment of the political situation was 
surprisingly astute for one so young.

"The northern Houses will need time and assistance to move their 
people back into the lands they have recaptured. If you were to take 
Charla with you on a trip to the north and assist the lost Houses with 
their return to their ancestral lands, much of the immediacy of what 
has happened of late would be lost. You could leave one of your 
lieutenants in temporary charge at Forst. You have several competent 
people in this generation. Thus I believe your house would be able to 
consolidate its gains while acquiring long-term political support from 
your new allies in the Council. If Vandira does testify in Charla's 
behalf, and it is proven to my satisfaction that she is as innocent 
as I truly believe her to be, then I will happily support you where 
her future is concerned."

Margul nodded, pleased by the elegance of Andalor's solution. "I like 
this idea for a number of reasons," he said aloud, determined to show 
the young King his appreciation. "I have always wanted to explore the 
northlands. Further, if I were to take a powerful Mage with me, the 
northerners' enemies could be properly intimidated until such time as 
a more stable form of protection could be established." He dared not 
admit that the opportunity to spend time with Charla away from the 
politics of the houses was by far the most desirable of the plan's many 
benefits.    

"Then we have an agreement?" Andalor asked, thankful the negotiation 
had gone as well as it had.

"Yes, in principle. You will, of course, have to get the Royal Mage to 
allow Charla to prove her worth to him before he judges her. Much as 
she is frustrated by her memories of her time with him, she respects 
and fears him greatly."

"As well she might," Andalor agreed. "Fortunately, there is more at 
work here than Reinald's concern over her ability to make mischief. 
I have spoken with other advisors on the matter -- including another 
Mage whom I trust as well. I think that there may be a way to convince 
the Royal Mage to withhold judgment. It will be up to you to make sure 
that she proves me correct in supporting her right to keep her powers."

"I see," Margul murmured, sure Andalor was referring to the mysterious 
and equally powerful Mage Mulder who seemed to appear at times of 
great need in the Realm. "I am not sure Reinald and Charla will ever 
work through their differences, but hope that you and I will be able 
to keep matters from getting completely out of hand."

Andalor nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. "I agree, we will have 
to work together on this matter if we are to have any hope of success."

"Then let us get started by finding Mage Vandira and going to Reinald's 
quarters," Margul suggested.  


Andalor rose to lead the way to Reinald's chambers, but before he 
reached his feet, the floor shook violently. Only moments later, a 
terrible crash of thunder nearly deafened both of them. As soon as 
they recovered from the shock, Andalor raced for the Royal Mage's 
quarters, Margul hot on his heels. Neither needed to say anything, as 
the growing violence of the Magestorm that shook the castle was more 
than sufficient evidence that the situation had already slipped well 
beyond their control.


End of Chapter Twenty-Five



THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND

By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter-Spring 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-Six


"R-royal Mage Reinald, someone is at the d-door to s-see you."

Reinald looked up from the scroll he had been perusing. "Yes? So? Let 
him in. I'm not so busy that I cannot stop for a bit."

"B-but, Master...."


"Pitir, what is your problem? Go - show him in and make tea. Then you 
may have the rest of the afternoon to practice your sleep spell. It 
could do with some work."

Reinald rolled up the scroll and returned it to its carved ivory case.
Study was a fine panacea, he thought. Just a few candlemarks, 
immersed in the arcane lore of his craft, and he was feeling almost 
himself again. That feeling lasted exactly as long as it took for him 
to look up and recognize his visitor. His face froze. "Pitir, you may 
leave us now."

"B-but Master. The tea-- "

"I said, *now*!" The Mage's voice rivaled thunder.

Pitir fled.

"I see you remember me, Royal Mage," Charla observed coolly.

He rose from his seat. "How could I not? It is one of life's misfortunes 
that we seem to better remember our failures than our successes."

Charla flushed. "Well, I see nothing has changed. I told Margul it was 
a mistake to come to Fairwoods. Fine. I shall not take any more of 

your time." She turned to leave.

"Stay!" It was not a plea, but a command.

Charla whirled to face him. "Why? I have not changed and neither have 
you. What purpose could possibly be served by my staying?"

"I have waited a long time to set eyes on you again and have more 
than enough to say to you," Reinald growled. "You will stay, and you 
will listen."

Charla's eyes never left his as she deliberately chose a comfortable 
armchair and seated herself. To the uninitiated, it would not have 
appeared to be cause for trouble. But a younger Mage sitting while 
a Master with Reinald's experience was still standing was like a slap 
in the face of the Royal Mage.

"You could have been something. You could have been the most 
influential Mage of your time," he accused. "But you had to know the 
Black Arts, and as a result you have wasted your gifts, sullied and 
perverted them, and brought yourself shame!"

She sprang to her feet. "It was your narrowmindedness which drove 
me to leave here, old man," Charla spat. "I was young and curious. I 
never would have used that knowledge! It is my right to have it, my 
*right*! But you could never understand that. It was beyond your 
comprehension that someone could know black spells and have the 
strength of character not to use them!"

Outside, storm clouds extinguished the sun.

"The ingratitude!" ranted Reinald. "Do you know how many young Mages 
petition me for an apprenticeship? Anyone else in your position would 
have given their right arm to have what I gave you. And what was my 
thanks? To have you turn against everything I had taught you, and 
waste your opportunity!"

"I never asked to be sent here! It was my Uncle Ian who forced me to 
come. No one cared about me, what I wanted, what I needed! Not you, 
not Ian, not anyone! And I should be grateful? I'd sooner have spent 
that time in the Royal Dungeons!"

"That can still be arranged!" Reinald shouted, pounding his fist on 
the table.

Charla stamped in fury. "Go ahead. Try it, old man!"

Thunder rumbled nearby, and the very air in the chamber crackled and 
sparked.

"And give you the opportunity you want? To cast some hideous and 
loathesome spell from your precious store of Black Magic? You are 
probably quite practiced at that by now!"

Charla screamed. "You fool! You still do not understand. Get it through 
your head -- I do not use those spells. Though Goddess knows, right 

now I would dearly love to!"

"I knew this would happen. Well, do not let me stop you!"

"As if you could!"

"By the Goddess!" Reinald roared.

Had there been anyone foolhardy enough to be looking on, he could 
not have failed to notice the burgeoning storm clouds roiling within 
the walls of Reinald's chambers. Suddenly, it all came together -- 

emotions long buried, the accumulation of seasons-cycles of anger 
and hurt. The room hummed with their force, as two enormously 
powerful Mages forgot, in their fury, to shield. Lightning shot from 
the mass of turbulent clouds near the ceiling, striking some armchairs 
clustered near the hearth and leaving them in smouldering ruins. 
Simultaneously there was a crash of thunder that shattered every 
window and piece of glass in the chamber.

Both Mages were thrown to the stone floor, momentarily stunned. 
Shakily, they climbed to their feet, then glared at each other, their 
anger unabated.

"A few moments with you, and look at the result," Reinald charged. "I 
haven't neglected to ground and shield since I was a child. I was so 
right to expel you."

"Ex-- ! Expel! You didn't expel me, old man. I left of my own 
volition."


"You did nothing of the sort! It was I, in my desire to remain pure 
of the ideas you were so anxious to espouse, who threw you out of 
Fairwoods."

Charla's face was white with fury. "You are saying I am impure, that 
my gifts were perverted? How dare you? Have you heard nothing? Are 
you so stubborn that you cannot for a single moment entertain the idea 
that perhaps-- "

The door flew open and Andalor and Margul skidded to a halt on the 
glass-strewn floor. Wordlessly they took in the smouldering furniture, 
the tense stances of the two Mages. "What in the name of the Goddess 
is going on here?" the King demanded.

"Ask her!"
"Ask him!"

The Mages continued to glare at each other, seething.

"All right, that is enough. My patience is at an end with this," 
Andalor declared. "Lord Margul? West receiving room, if you please."

"With pleasure, Your Majesty." Margul strode up to Charla, grasping 
her firmly by the wrist. "You are coming with me, Charla. We must 
talk."

"Talk to him!" she replied angrily, with a toss of her head toward 
Reinald.

"I will talk with *you*," the Forst noble thundered, and jerked her 
toward the door.

"No! I have not finished here. Margul, let me go!"

"You *have* finished here. You may have 'finished' us both! Now come 
along!"

With Charla resisting every step of the way, Margul finally dragged 
her from the room.

*      *

The bang that accompanied the closing of Reinald's door took Margul by 
surprise. His attention slipped for a moment and Charla was able to 
break his fierce grip on her wrist. Though many servants and other 
passers-by were frightened and had found hiding places they hoped 
would be safe, others were fascinated by the Mage's histrionics. 
Charla's wild-eyed gaze was enough to terrify even these brave souls. 
But Margul was not impressed by her anger. He was far too furious 
himself.

He was, therefore, none-too-gentle when he took her by the waist, 
slinging her over one shoulder moments before she could burst through 
Reinald's door once more. Her greater height could not serve her in 
her struggles against his iron grip, as he staggered through the palace 
toward the west receiving room. Neither her wildly kicking legs nor her 
equally violent threats could divert him.

When the great door to the salon thudded closed behind them, he took 
no time in literally throwing her into a chair. The unfortunate piece of 
furniture slid some distance across the highly polished floor before 
crashing to a halt, its momentum stopped by one of the tables that 
dotted the great expanse.

Charla, silenced by the violence of his anger, stared at Margul in mute 
rage while he made sure that she knew of her many mistakes.

"Of all the stupid, thoughtless and poorly timed things you could have 
done, you force the issue and go before Reinald!" he cried, infuriated 
by far more than simple mistimed actions. "I told you I would make 
sure that you needn't confront him, and rather than trusting me to see 
to this, you went off and sought him out well before anything could be 
done on your behalf. Needless to say, this has not been one of your 
best decisions," he grated, voice carrying throughout the room.

Charla's mouth opened in an apparent attempt to deflect his anger.

"Don't say a thing!" he exploded, certain he had never been angrier 
at anyone in his entire life. "Had you simply allowed me to continue 
as I was, I would have seen to your safety by the end of the day. His 
Majesty was more than ready to support you and, in fact, we were 
just going to find Mages Vandira and Reinald when you interrupted 
us with this foolishness. Now, not only am I in a difficult position, 
but His Majesty is as well. We had everything nearly worked out 
between us and were ready to talk things over with Mage Reinald. But 
now! Now! You have made things nearly impossible for our combined 
talents to redeem."

Charla, shocked by Margul's fury, knew only one acceptable way to 
assuage it. The honest way. "I am sorry for what I have done," she 
said softly, voice thick with tears. "I thought that by going to him 
and trying to work things out directly I might have the same kind of 
success you expected with His Majesty. I was terribly, nearly 
disastrously, wrong."

Margul, the worst of his anger now passed, moved to her side. "In 
another time and place you might have been right to do things this 
way, but both of you have been far too badly hurt by what has come 
before to let things go so easily. I know how important your 
independence is to you, but when you combine your need to stand 
tall with your fear of Reinald, you have a truly terrible mix indeed," 
he noted, lips twisted in a wry half-smile.

"I know that now," Charla sighed. It was at times like this that she 
feared she would never be more than the angry child-woman who 
had hidden herself away from most of the goings-on in the Realm for 
so long.

Margul, who could well guess what she was thinking, moved behind her, 
his fingers gently rubbing some of the tension out of her shoulders.

"You have grown a great deal over the last few moon-cycles, and have 
survived more before them," he encouraged softly, reinforcing his 
words with long, gentle strokes of his talented fingers. "But now it is 
time for you to trust me as you have been afraid to so far. I know 
that you trust me with your heart, but now you must trust me with 
your future as well."

"It will be hard," she murmured, the exhaustion caused by her recent 
battle of wills with the Royal Mage coloring every word.

"I know. But everything that is truly worthwhile is," Margul said 
softly. "I love you greatly and will not disappoint you now," he 
promised, seeing she was teetering on the edge of badly needed 
sleep. 

"As I love, and will not disappoint, you too." she promised, moments 
before her head slumped forward. Margul lifted her gently and placed 
her on a nearby couch. It took only moments to collect sufficient 
coverings for her. He was sorely tempted to move her to their quarters. 
But as tired as she was, he knew it would be best to let her rest and 
prepare for whatever the future might bring. 

*      *

"You see? You see what she's like! *This* is the Mage that you have 
been defending, Andalor. I hope you realize now-- "

"Enough!" the King exploded. "Now sit down in one of the chairs you 
haven't managed to destroy and listen to me."

Reinald's mouth hung open for a moment, then closed with a snap. 
Speechless, he dropped into the nearest chair.

"I have at hand incontrovertable evidence that Charla did not resort 
to the use of the Black Arts during the campaign against Dordinal. 
Further-- " Andalor looked warningly at Reinald, who appeared about 
to interrupt "--I have proof that she has never in her life employed 
black spells.... Never."

The Royal Mage appeared thunderstruck. He sat in silence for several 
moments. "Never?" he whispered. He shook his head wonderingly. "But 
how could I have been so.... What is this proof?" he demanded.

"She swore before the Forst council, in the presence of aura-sensitive 
beings and the Forst Mage Vandira, herself an elf. There was no tell-
tale flickering or darkening of her aura."

"Well, perhaps she used the Black Arts to fortify her aura in some 
way," he countered.

"If she had used Black Magic, would there not have been the 
characteristic stench? All have denied such a thing ever occurred. 
And besides... think, Reinald. She was beside herself here in this 
chamber, out of control enough to forget to ground and shield -- as 
you yourself were. Do you not think that if she were accustomed to 
using the Black Arts, she would not have done so against you?"

This time Reinald was silent for quite a long time. Andalor allowed 
him to think it through.

"There is no doubt?" he asked finally.

"I still need to talk to Mage Vandira, and I plan to have Lita and some 
other aura-sensitive beings present when I do. But if Margul and 
Vandira are telling the truth, then no, there can be no doubt. And I 
do not think Margul would lie to me. He has too much at stake."

The Royal Mage rubbed his face with his hands. "I do not understand," 
he admitted, genuinely puzzled. "I simply do not understand how I could 
have been so mistaken."

Andalor heaved a sigh of relief and pulled up a chair next to 
Reinald's. "I may have some insights on that," he replied, seating 
himself. He smiled at the man who was like a father to him. "Reinald, 
you were espousing what you believed was best -- for me, for the 
Realm. But I think you were basing your judgement on the events of 
the past -- your disappointment over Charla, what you thought was her 
betrayal of not only you, but all that you hold dear, all that is good 
and pure in magic. 

"No one is claiming that Charla is an easy person. In fact, I think 
Margul may have his work cut out for him," the King mused. "But I 
think you let your feeling of betrayal add to your instincts to protect 
me and the Realm. It simply added up to the wrong conclusion in this 
case."

"Even before she announced her intention to study the Black Arts, 
Charla was a handful," Reinald remembered. "We used to have some 
terrible arguments. The only thing that kept me from ending her 
apprenticeship earlier was her awesome natural talent. I would have
helped her to become one of the best Mages in the Realm -- maybe *the* 
best," he concluded sorrowfully.

"And don't you think she knows that?" Andalor said gently. "Don't you 
think that if she allowed herself to think about it, she would regret 
much of what has happened between you?"

Reinald shrugged non-committally, but the King could see he was 
considering it.

"Besides, she may yet attain that," the King added. "Only, by her own 

path."

They were quiet for a while, appreciating the renewed warmth between 
them.


The King's tone was low but affectionate. "You know, Reinald, I have 
missed you terribly. I don't think you know how much I depend on you 
to be there for me, to prevent me from making a mess of things. True, 
you were wrong on this matter, but no one is perfect. Just because I 
may disagree on occasion does not mean I value your counsel any the 
less."

"You seem to have acquired an amazing amount of wisdom in the past few 
weeks," observed Reinald, the twinkle at last restored to his kindly 
blue eyes.

Andalor chuckled. "Well, much as I would like to claim it as my own, 
honesty forces me to admit that I had some help."

"Ah! Mage Mulder, I assume."

The King nodded, his expression becoming grave. "He looks bad, 
Reinald. I swear, I don't think I have ever seen him look worse, not 
even during the war with the Dark Creatures. He really could use a 
break, but.... He and Scully won't be able to come to the wedding. 
That horrible case is still going on, and the Professor's gel-flow 
calculations aren't cooperating. I am disappointed he will not be 
here to watch us wed, to be sure, but mostly I am very worried about 
him -- and because of the lifebond, about Warrior Healer Scully as 
well. I would feel so much better if they were here, with us."

Reinald nodded. "I noticed how tired and drawn he looked the last time 
I saw him. And you say he looked worse when you spoke to him?" 

"Much worse."

He shook his head. "Though we may feel better having them here, the 
truth of the matter is that our friends have not been any more free 
from care when they visit us than they are in their world. May the 
Goddess protect him and bring his case to a rapid close. Then Scully 
can help him to heal." He smiled at the King. "Will you join me for tea? 
We have some catching up to do. And then I have to do some visiting. 
I have some apologies to make."

Andalor returned the Royal Mage's smile. "With great pleasure, 
Reinald."


End of Chapter Twenty-Six



THE MAGICIAN, BOOK 3.5: THE FIREBRAND
By Matthew Weed and Suzanne Bickerstaffe
(magician@galaxy.med.yale.edu, ecksphile@earthlink.net)
Winter - Spring 2001


Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00


Chapter Twenty Seven



"I do not like this in the slightest," Vestra cried from her place 
near the foot of the table.

"And neither do I!" Randock concurred. "All the Realm is giving credit 
to you for the tremendous victory over Dordinal. As a representative 
of the land-houses, I feel that it is very unwise to have you away 
from your House when its gains are still tenuous. We of the smaller 
Houses who do not have seats on the Council depend on greater 
Houses such as yours to maintain their stability and strength. 
Strength that protects our possessions as much as it does your 
own. Protection that is greatest when the Head of House is present 
and able to look after the needs of his allies."

"Not only that, but Charla's departure and long absence will allow 
Dordinal to whisper against her -- to make all in the Realm fear she 
has somehow subverted our House. They will also say our victory 
came as a result of her use of the black arts. The proof, the clarity 
of her aura, manifests her innocence in ways that mere words cannot," 
Vestra said forcefully. "If she is not here to display that clarity--"

It was the first meeting of the new Forst Council at its Fairwoods 
family seat. Seeing that the debate was rapidly slipping out of 
control, Margul moved to retake the initiative. "Enough!" he thundered 
from the head of the table. When the protest quieted, he went on. "You 
are right to worry about these things. But it is also true that the 
King will support us in holding these lands, support that must be 
maintained if our victory is to be consolidated. Our departure will 
make it easier for him to rule - unless, of course, you propose to 
overthrow His Majesty...." 

The shocked glances that flew around the table showed him the others 
had forgotten how important Andalor's support was to the future of 
their family.

"As I was saying," he continued, voice now quieter but no less 
powerful.  "The journey will strengthen our alliances with the lost 
Houses and Norwood, and will give me the chance to remind them of 
how much they owe our House - and Charla in particular."

"Why should we care about the King's rule?" a young hothead 
interrupted. "After all, we have one of the most talented Mages in 
the Realm as a member of our House, and should the King have 
difficulties, we can use her powers to further benefit ourselves."

"Yes, we could do that," Margul said softly, "if we were like the 
honorless Dordinal garbage that we spent so much blood and treasure 
defeating only days ago. Fortunately," he continued, voice rising, "we 
are not like Dordinal. This house has honor and it will stand by those 
who support it. The King's family has been a reliable ally to us and I 
will not allow further discussion of the use of Charla's powers as a 
tool. We are all fortunate that she has chosen to return.  I see no 
reason to act like Lord Ian did where she is concerned."


Though there were some grumblings from various quarters, Margul saw 
a majority of the family agreed with him. Now, attention would 
have to return to the King's request that he spend time away from 
Forst's seat and his position on the Council of Representatives as 
well. His words would have to be chosen carefully. Too much rested 
on the Forst council's acceptance of the King's terms.    


"I know that you are not pleased at the thought of my being away for 
such a period of time. Remember that our allies' debt to us will only 
increase if we help them further now. Debts that they will be long in 
repaying and which they would be foolish to deny. They might try to 
stab us in the back, but Charla's presence will force them to remain 
honest for many season-cycles to come. We will have to measure our 
steps if we are to have true success against the likes of Dordinal. 

But with care and thought on our part, we can build what we have 
gained into a political power unlike any that our family has held in 
a thousand season-cycles and more." 

"You may be right," Vestra sighed, "but I still don't like it. There 
are too many untrustworthy beings on the Council, many of whom would 
be more than pleased to take advantage of your absence."

"Not as many as you might think," Margul refuted. "I am sure that 
Norwood will support us, as we are helping them. Ranfaus will go where 
King Andalor tells them to. It is likely that our historic clashes with 
Highlands will only grow in tandem with the length of the border 
between us. However, they owe their recent gains in land, treasure and 
safety to us and so will remain quiet for a while. The elves 
and gargoyles will support us for their own reasons and the trolls 
have had much trouble with Dordinal of late. Maalfees is a problem 
and Dordinal will never be our friend.  These will bear watching, but 
aren't enough to cause problems so long as the acting Head of House 
is chosen well."

"And who will that be?" Charla asked, knowing well the man whom Margul 
had in mind for this essential role.

"Unless there is an objection, I wish Ghalbar to act in my stead until 
I return." A pause ensued while those sitting around the table 
considered the matter. When there was no objection to his suggestion, 
Margul nodded, pleased that the family had agreed so quickly.   

"Though I am not sure that I am the best person for the task, I will 
serve as you see fit," Ghalbar declared from his place at Margul's 
left.

"You are one of only a few in the family who is not tainted by an 
association with Darliss' cause but yet has connections with most of 
the other Houses. Further, I'm told that Tallor of Ranfaus holds you 
in the highest esteem. He is still carrying out many of Mandor's 
duties and will be for some time to come. He is a friend of the King. 
The Norwood warriors spoke very highly of you after they saw your 
prowess at Hotsprings. And your diplomatic skills will serve you well 
with the non-human representatives as well."

"Then I will be honored to stand as your second," Ghalbar declared. 
He rose, quickly withdrawing his sword from its sheath. Before Margul 
could stop him, he had slashed one of his palms in preparation to 

offer a warrior's oath in blood. The blood represented a bond between 
the acting Head of House and those who sat on Forst's council. Such 
oaths were almost never offered, as no other carried the weight of a 
pledge given in blood. In doing so, Ghalbar showed the seriousness of 
his commitment to Margul and his family. By making the oath in return, 
all present would commit themselves to do whatever was needed to 
see to the safety and strength of those who had been joined by blood. 
Normally, anyone could have witnessed such a pledge. In this case, 
Margul and Andalor had agreed that the oaths were important enough 
to Forst and the Realm to make the presence of the royal priestess a 
virtual necessity. 

"Hold!" Margul cried. His shout stopped Ghalbar from carrying out the 
needed slash on his other hand. "Find Healer Marik and send him to 
attend Ghalbar's wound," Margul said to one of the pages who stood 
respectfully near the door. "When you have found him," he snapped, 
stopping the teenager in his tracks, "find the High Priestess and tell 
her that the oaths that she is to witness for the King will be sworn 
as soon as she arrives."  

The young man bobbed his head in respectful compliance and hastened 
from the room.

Ghalbar's injury was far from serious and so there was nothing to keep 
him from participating on the council while they waited for the Healer 
and High Priestess.

"While we await Healer Marik's arrival, I would like to ask Warrior 
Vestra to act as my representative to those who will guard the family 
seat while I am in the northlands," Margul said. 

A brief silence greeted his words. When it became clear that no one 
would say anything before she did, Vestra rose and bowed deeply to 
Margul.

"I would be honored to act as your representative to the guardians of 
our family seat for as long as I am needed," she declared. "When the 
High Priestess arrives, I too will take the warrior's oath, in 
subservience to your wishes and those of my nephew as well," she 
added, knowing that her loyalty to Ghalbar had to be made known and 
left unquestioned.   

Margul nodded, pleased to see that those few whom he thought of as 
troublemakers were impressed by the others' determination. The power 
of the oaths being offered made more than clear Ghalbar and Vestra's 
determination to ensure that the family would not be torn by the 
factionalism that had proven its downfall in the past.

A light tap on the door presaged the Healer's arrival and within 
moments the flow of blood from Ghalbar's hand had stopped.

"Please wait for a few moments if your other duties permit," Margul 
requested before Marik could withdraw. "There are many warriors' oaths 
to be sworn this day and your services will be required as soon as the 

High Priestess arrives."

The middle aged human who had accompanied their party from Forst's 
seat nodded briefly. As a Healer, he was in principal opposed to the 
deliberate self-injury he was to witness, but as a member of the family 
he recognized its symbolic importance. Silently, he took the chair that 
one of the younger warriors offered him.


Moments later, the High Priestess entered the room.

"I am ready to witness your oaths of loyalty on behalf of the Goddess 
and His Majesty King Andalor," she proclaimed, coming to stand behind 
Margul's chair.

"Very well," Margul replied. "Ghalbar, as you've already done it once 
today, I'm quite sure that you know what needs be done now," he 
prompted, receiving a somewhat embarassed smile in return.

Without another word, the younger man rose, unsheathed his sword 
and slashed his palms -- first the left and then the right. Margul 
unsheathed his own sword and used it to slash open his palms. Each 
man took the other's weapon and, swords balanced between them, laid 
hands one above and one below on each blade. In doing so, they 
demonstrated the strength of the oath being taken. By placing his 
hands on top of the blades, Margul's position as head of house was 
reaffirmed, while Ghalbar's as lead counselor was shown by the 
presence of Margul's sword.  None of the others would be allowed to 
touch Ghalbar's blade when their oaths were offered to him, as they 
were not swearing themselves to him as equals. 

When Margul and Ghalbar had sworn the warriors' oath, the rest of the 
council rose and bowed to each of them. Various swords, daggers and 
other implements of the trades that they represented were placed 
before Ghalbar as tokens of the pledges that they represented. He 
accepted them with the respect that they were due. As soon as the 
person offering his or her pledge had offered a blood oath, Ghalbar 
placed his still-bleeding hand on each of the implements before him. 

When the last of the items to taste blood that day had been added 
to the pile, the Priestess stepped forward, her hands raised over it.
"The blood of those here today, and the items that they offer in the 
sight of all present bind them to each other as they are bound to the 
earth, the sky and the Goddess who watches all with equal interest. 
The Goddess will know if any here break the oaths that they have sworn 
and will look on them with the disdain that those who break oaths 
sworn on their own blood deserve," she proclaimed, voice carrying to 
all who stood around the table.

"Under the scrutiny of the Goddess, now take back these items, and 
keep them with you as reminders of the commitments that you have 
made to each other and to her. Keep them well and she will look on 
your deeds with love. Keep them badly and she will know this as well." 
She stepped back so that the items could be returned to their owners.

"Thank you," Margul murmured to her as he sat down. "I appreciate your 
assistance in this and will find you before I leave tomorrow to offer a 
gift to the Goddess and those for whom she cares."


"Any such gift will be accepted with the same love and in the respect 
in which it is offered," she replied. "I shall be pleased to speak with 
you of this and other things before you leave."

"Very well. I shall find you shortly after the evening meal and before 

you must retire for the night."

"Until then," she replied, leaving the room as quietly as she had 
entered it.

Fortunately, there was little other business and moments later, the 
Forst Council meeting broke up.

"What now?" Charla asked, once the room had cleared.

"Now, we prepare to return home with the small contingent that Vestra 
will need to protect our seat." Margul sighed, mind turning to the 
problems that still beset his family. Though the oaths that had been 
sworn would keep most from causing trouble, there would be a very 
few whose word would not hold. He knew that it was far better for most 
of the House to be at Fairwoods Keep where Ghalbar could keep an eye 
on them. There was little doubt that Lord Randock could be trusted to 
advise Ghalbar well until he found his own cadre of trusted advisors. 
However, most of the other land-houses could not be trusted, and 
Ghalbar's comparative inexperience might prove problematic in dealing 
with them. His enthusiasm could get him into trouble, and only time 
would teach him how to deal with some of the plots he would face. 

Charla's gentle touch on his arm brought him back from his musings.

"What?" he murmured, still not fully focused on the question she 
had apparently repeated several times.

When she next spoke, her voice did not mask the frustration she 
felt at having been ignored.  "We must make final decisions about the 
beings who will go with us on our journey," she reminded him.  

Margul's eyes narrowed. He could make a very good guess at what 
she was about to say next. She would want to bring along the young 
troll Jhorgab, who babbled more than the brook that ran along 

Fairwoods' north wall. "He's not coming. I mean that young troll whom 
I have seen following you around like a watch-beast will not be coming
with us."

"And why not?" Charla demanded, temper flaring in concert with her 
aura.

"He talks incessantly, is too young for a journey of this length, and 
knows nothing of the kind of work that must be done to help the 
thousands whom we will be assisting to reach their new homes."

"Only partially true," Charla countered. "He knows much of the Realm, 
and has far more experience on dangerous journeys than you might 
think."

"How could a troll as young as little Jhorgab possibly have such 
experience?" Margul challenged. He had a sinking feeling that Charla's 
next argument would sway him toward bringing the annoying little being 
with them.

"He was one of the company who accompanied Mage Mulder and 
Warrior Healer Scully on the journey to find Mage Hannu. Further, if 
you demand a political connection, his uncle is Krolgar, the troll 
trader who supplied us with so many of the tools we needed to defeat 
Dordinal. Having a member of his family along on such a journey will, 
doubtless, facilitate our relations with the trolls once we return."

"Hmmph!" Margul grunted. Much as the little being was loud and 
sometimes obnoxious, he had to admit that the youngling troll was not 
as intolerable as he had thought on first meeting him. His energy and 
enthusiasm had penetrated even Margul's stiff defenses.

"Besides," Charla went on, "I find him gregarious and entertaining and
completely charming."

"I shall have to think on it," Margul growled, rising to leave the table.
"Evening meal is in two candlemarks, and I will have a decision for 
you by then."

"As you say," Charla said with a knowing smile. Margul's love for 
her would deny her nothing that was in his power to give. In the end, 
he would acquiesce to her request to bring the youngling troll along 
on their 'wondrous, exciting, dangerous and most fascinating 
adventure'.

*	*	*

"Oh, Lord Margul, I am so pleased that you have decided to allow me 
to join your fine and most thrilling party!" Jhorgab babbled early the 
next morning.  Needless to say, the troll youngling had been extremely 
vociferous in his appreciation. Margul was only glad he had been able 
to delay announcing his decision until after the evening meal. As a 
result, the trolls had a sleepless night as Jhorgab excitedly 
collected the materials that he would need. "I am sure we will have 
a wonderful journey full of the kind of adventure one can only find 
with the finest beings of the Realm. Why, when I was with Mage Mulder 
and Warrior Healer Scully on their desperate trek to find the 
legendary Mage Hannu, I was sure many times that we would come to 
a  nasty end. From the Dark Queen's terrible privations to the horrid 
Rax, there were so many barriers to overcome and challenges to meet. 
The Mage and his bondmate -- not to mention the wonderful Lady 
Shannon - took them all in stride, much as I am sure that you and 
Lady Charla will as well...."

Margul turned and glowered at Jhorgab, hoping to intimidate the 
youngling troll into silence. Even Charla had become somewhat tired 
of his incessant chatter. Margul knew that he would have to watch 
these two closely over the next few days. In an unguarded moment, 
Charla might be inclined to take action against Jhorgab, much as King 
Andalor had warned him might happen.    

Andalor had laughed long and loud on hearing of Margul's grudging 
willingness to take Jhorgab. The young man slapped Margul on the back, 
reminding him to make sure to count the horses every morning as Charla 
might well turn the little troll into one in order to 'shut him up'. 
Much as the little being irritated him, Margul knew His Majesty's 
prediction might well come to pass if care was not taken to keep 
Jhorgab's verbal excesses away from her from time to time. Margul was 
distracted from thoughts of the youngling troll by the arrival of King 
Andalor and Lady Shannon.      

"Travel well and safely," King Andalor declared loudly, so that all in 
the party might hear him. "The Realm and its many new subjects thank 
you for your willingness to take on this valuable work. Your deeds and 
sacrifices will be remembered by me and all of the beings of the 
Realm. Travel in peace and safety, return in health and joy."

"Your sentiments are deeply appreciated by all in my party and in the 
Houses represented here," Margul responded. "Whether Forst or Ranfaus, 
Highlands or Norwood, all who travel under your banner on this journey 
will do their best to ensure the safety and prosperity of those whom 
we seek to help." He had deliberately chosen to take some of Forst's 
hotheads along in order to allow them to spend their energy in battle 
against enemies rather than in making trouble for Ghalbar. Even so, 
most of the party were older, more experienced warriors and nobles 

well-versed in the diplomatic and other skills that would be 
desperately needed on their journey. 

The thirty beings who would accompany Margul all of the way to the 
Valley of the Lost Houses cheered loudly, as the party prepared to 
move out through the castle's gates. Vestra's party of nearly fifty 
warriors and support staff would follow them on the morrow. One 
final celebration would be held at Forst's seat before the expedition 

finally left for the north. The celebration would be as much a show 
of Margul's support for Vestra as it was the glorious send-off that he 
wanted it to appear to be. 

When all were settled on their horses, Margul gave the signal to 
advance. He waited for the party to pass through the gates before 
falling in beside Charla, who had taken up a position at the rear of 
their small column. As they passed under the great stone lintel of the 
castle's mighty gates, Margul took her hand, and raised it in a final 
salute to the young king for whom he had developed a profound 
respect. As they set off on their own challenging journey, Margul 
could only hope Andalor would face no great problems on the 
path leading from his marriage to the family that he knew the King 
desired above all things. Sadly, the fog of plots and maneuvering 
that shaped things at Fairwoods had already encompassed the King 
and his beautiful fiancee. Margul could only hope that its mists would 
not conceal the evil that had brought so many of Fairwoods' previous 
rulers to an early and undeserved end. 


End of Chapter Twenty Seven



THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND
By Suzanne Bickerstaffe and Matthew Weed
(ecksphile@earthlink.net, matthew.weed@yale.edu)
Winter - Spring 2001

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-Eight




Andalor signed contentedly, feeling the best he had in... well, the best 
he had felt ever, now that he thought about it. The Realm was relatively 
peaceful; the Noble Houses were again busy with internecine squabbling, 
leaving the rest of the land ignored for the moment; and the woman he 
adored lay naked and sleeping in his arms....


*     *      *       *

There had been an air of anticipation throughout Fairwoods for a week, 
as numerous parties and receptions were held for the dignitaries who
streamed into the capital to attend the Royal Wedding. The excitement 
was contagious, and affected everyone with the exception of the Royal 
Couple, who wanted nothing more than for everything to be over so they 
could begin their lives together.

The day had begun with stormy weather, driving Ballorca to distraction 
as he scrambled to make contingency plans for the wedding that evening. 
But gradually throughout the day, the sky cleared, treating the Realm 
to a glorious sunset as the torches were lit in the courtyard and the 
wedding guests filed into the Great Hall to the sound of trumpet 
fanfares.

The Hall was still in the process of being rebuilt. The walls were up, 
as was the massive door that opened onto the wide center aisle of the 
edifice. The design of the building was the brainchild of the Professor,
Ballorca, and a guild of Mages who specialized in the spells of 
Construction. What had been completed thus far showed an eclectic 
mix of gothic and contemporary -- the Professor's contribution -- and 
traditional Realm design. But no one doubted that the finished 
structure would be just as splendid as the old Great Hall, destroyed 
by the Dark Queen.

The roof had yet to be raised, allowing the twin moons and a profusion 
of stars in a midnight-blue sky to shine down into the packed hall. 
Even Ballorca had to admit that despite the defiance of tradition, the 
seers had been wise to insist that the wedding must be held in the 
evening. Indeed, the resplendent canopy of the heavens seemed to be 
the natural finishing touch to the flowers and decorations swathing the 
Great Hall, the courtyard, and the castle itself.

The common beings of the Realm had lined up early to claim a place in 
the tiers of stands that lined the walls of the Great Hall. It was a 
wonder those stands bore the weight of all that pushed and crowded 
their way onto them. Andalor's popularity among his subjects was the 
greatest of any King in living memory, and his choice of a bride from 
the commoner class only served to endear him more to them. Beings in 
bright traditional costumes came from their distant ancestral homes - 
the elves from Fairwoods Glens, the trolls from Jinderling, the 
gargoyles from Goodearth Caverns - to become a part of the spectacle.

When the stands were filled past the groaning point, the procession of 
nobles and dignitaries began, each informed in no uncertain terms what 
the crowd thought of them. Prince Mavor and his party earned the 
cheers of onlookers as they processed down the aisle, waving to the 
crowd. Representatives of the trolls and gargoyles received similar 
plaudits from their vocal factions in the stands.

The parties of the Noble Houses were generally much less 
enthusiastically received. There were exceptions, however. Though 
still in the process of rebuilding their hierarchies after season-
cycles of exile, the newly-named Householders of the Lost Houses 
marched in proudly beside colorful banners bearing crests not seen 
in generations. They received an extended ovation from the crowd, 
as they were welcomed back to their long-empty places in the Hall.

Ghalbar, accompanied by a small delegation from Forst, was also 
cheered. Many in the crowd of onlookers were somewhat disappointed; 
they had been looking forward to getting a glimpse of Lord Margul and 
his consort Mage Charla, about whom they had heard so much of late. 
But they were content to give the Forst representatives who were there 
an appropriate welcome in return for the benefits they had brought the 
northern area of the Realm. 

There were exclamations of surprise, then cheering as Lord Mandor, 
leaning heavily on his son Tallor, limped down the aisle at the head of 
the Ranfaus delegation. It was his first public appearance since 
almost being killed in the collapse of the Great Hall, and the 
onlookers made sure he knew how much he was respected and missed. 

But the arrival of Dordinal in the hall was greeted with jeers and 
catcalls. No one could have failed to notice that the House's ranks 
were markedly diminished. Not only had their numbers been decimated 
in the disastrous war with Forst, but the in-fighting to replace Hegan 
as Householder had been bloodier and deadlier than usual. Onlookers 
took note of who appeared in the procession, less because they cared 
personally for the nobles than because most had wagered money or 
goods on the eventual winner of the battle.

When all the members of the Council of Representatives had finally 
filed in with their retinues and taken their seats, the fanfare 
stopped. There was a brief period of silence, broken by the trumpets 
blaring the plaintive, haunting anthem of Andalor's House.

The High Priestess was first, accompanied by her chief acolyte. They 
mounted the dais and stood before the two thrones. Next came those 
who were closest to the King -- Captain of the Guards Jourdain and 
Captain Aldara, followed by Lita holding Daanna's hand. Royal Mage 
Reinald and Mage Tarnor were behind them, then Professor Neumann 
and Mage Hannu, and finally Healer Kyla and Lady Livirnea. They filed 
into the seats immediately in front of the dais. It was strikingly 
obvious that two chairs remained empty -- Andalor had ordered it so, 
for the friends who meant so much to both him and the Realm, who 
had not been able to be with them on this happy occasion.

Finally, the King began the long walk up the center aisle, alone. His 
steps were measured, in time to the haunting music, now taken up
by fiddlers and harpists and lutists. The mood had turned solemn,
reflected in the silence of the formerly boisterous crowd. Outwardly, 
he was the picture of regal calm. Inwardly, his heart thumped painfully 
in his chest. He hadn't been able to see Shannon all day, separated by 
both custom and their last-minute duties, and every bone and muscle 
in his body ached to see her. He wondered how she was feeling.

At last he reached the dais and climbed the steps to join the High 
Priestess. The music stopped, the last notes floating skyward. He 
began his first chant of the night, once again mentally thanking the 
Goddess for his eidetic memory as he did so. The chant lasted every 
bit of a candlemark, reciting his long list of forebears and their 
accomplishments. Then the High Priestess began her chant, solo at
first, then with responses by her acolyte, and finally Andalor joined 
in.

Most of the onlookers shifted from one foot to the other during the 
long chants. But now that the chants had ended, their attention was 
rivetted to the huge door as it swung open on noiseless hinges. A 
fanfare was struck, a new one composed for the occasion, that 
would always be Shannon's own. The melody was exotic by Realm 

standards and conveyed to the onlookers a message of fierce courage 
and deep love. They were spellbound by the music, then thunderstruck 
by the image of their Queen-to-be as, alone, Shannon began to walk 
slowly down the center aisle.

There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd. Her gown was 
new, but made in the traditional style -- a shimmering rainbow 
composed of the narrowest imaginable strips of heavy matte satin, 
representing all the colors from every ensign, crest and seal in the 
Realm. It should have been gaudy, but it wasn't, giving merely the 

impression of marvelous, indefinable color. Far from the simple 
straight sheaths that were worn even for formal occasions, the skirts 
of the gown were full, trailing off in a train some five meters long. 
The sleeves were long and flowing, more diaphenous than the skirts, 
but glowing with the same colors. The bodice, however, was so tightly 
fitted Shannon might have been poured into it, and was low cut not 
only by the Realm's but any standards. Her head was bare by tradition, 
but her abundant dark tresses had been sculpted into an elaborate 
arrangement that had taken candlemarks, and a good bit of patience 
by the girl.

She wore the Crown Jewels, never seen except at occasions such as 
these. Andalor himself had removed them from the vault, entrusting 
them to Jourdain and Aldara for delivery to Shannon and the myriad of 
servants helping to ready her. The Queen's Crown was removed from the 
vault at the same time and placed into the hands of the High Priestess, 
who would say the traditional prayers and blessings over it. But the 
brilliant sapphire, diamond and emerald necklace now graced Shannon's 
neck and the matching earrings sparkled from her ears, and the crowd 
murmured its appreciation of her beauty.


The acolyte waited at the bottom of the dais steps, and assisted 
Shannon to climb them. She looked graceful, feminine in the 
traditional finery, though Andalor well knew that the leather breeches 
and flowing white shirt of the warrior was her preferred garb, and 
better reflected her strength and independence than what she now 
wore. But Andalor was spellbound nonetheless. He knew what the dress 
was to be -- it was after all a traditional design -- and he knew 
what the jewels looked like. But never could have he imagined the 
total effect of the clothes and jewels, added to his bride's inate 
loveliness.

Shannon stepped to the left of the High Priestess, who stood in the 
center of the dais with Andalor on her right. At a nod from the holy 
woman, she began her chant in her rich, pleasant alto.

The chant was mercifully short, as the excitement rose in the 
onlookers. Before long, Reinald was summoned to the dais.

The High Priestess addressed the crowd in New Realm. "We meet
on one of the happiest occasions our lives offer, the acknowledgement 
of true love and a deep bond between two beings, in this case, the 
King who in his wisdom guides the Realm, and the woman with whom he 
has chosen to share his life. She has proven by her courageous 
performance in the Ritual of Readiness to be worthy of the position 
which marriage to the sovereign of the Realm will bring her. Your 
Majesty, Lady Shannon...."

She took the right hand of each and held them in her own. "May the 
Goddess bless your union. May you comfort and be comforted, 
demonstrate strength and wisdom and impart it to each other, and 
derive from each other all that is good in life. And may the Realm
find bounty in the children you produce. In the name of the 
Goddess...."

"In the name of the Goddess!" responded the crowd.

The Priestess nodded to Reinald, who approached the pillow the acolyte 
was holding.  From it, he took a thin, ornate chain of purest gold. With 
a wave of his hand, the length of chain became two, which he handed 
to the priestess. She draped one over Andalor's right wrist, the other 
over Shannon's. With trembling fingers, Reinald held the two ends of 
Andalor's bracelet, closed his eyes and muttered something in Old 
Realm. Instantly, there was a glow and the two ends fused, fitting the 
bracelet to his wrist, to remain there forever. Then he did the same 
with the length of chain on Shannon's wrist. Tears in his eyes, he 
kissed both of them on the forehead, then stepped back.

"From this moment onward, Andalor and Shannon belong to each other,"
the High Priestess intoned.

There was a whoop from the audience, and wild cheering, almost drowning 
out the triumphant air struck up by the musicians. Smiling, the youngsters 
waved to the crowd.


Andalor turned to his bride. "At last," he murmured close to her ear. 
"Goddess, Shannon, I love you so much. I feared so many times this 
day would never come, and now you are mine forever, as I am yours."
He cupped her face in his hands, and brought his lips to hers.

To say that the crowd went wild would have been an understatement.

Finally, she pulled away, tears glistening in her eyes. "And I love 
you, Andy. I just hope you know what you're doing."

He laughed. "I do, though I wish more than anything we could miss the 
rest of the ceremony and the reception, and get back to our 
bedchamber."

She smiled up at him, and her voice was low and sultry. "I like the 
sound of that... 'our bedchamber'."

He returned her smile and said playfully, "You are not making this 
any easier, wife."

"All things worthwhile are worth waiting for," she promised with a 
wink.

He feigned a groan. "Not making it any easier at all." He kissed her 
again, and waited for the crowd to finally settle down.

He squeezed Shannon's hand as he addressed the throng. "I now 
bestow upon the Realm the greatest gift I can think of -- to crown my 
beautiful new wife as their Queen, to help me guide our land to 
harmony and prosperity, to love all our beings as I love them."

He began an Old Realm chant, which was taken up by first the High 
Priestess, then their closest friends, and finally by all in the Hall 
who had studied the ritual. The chant became louder and louder, the 
accompanying music more rhythmically insistent. Andalor nodded at 
Shannon, and she knelt before him. He took the crown the acolyte bore 
on a pillow, holding one side of it, the High Priestess holding the 
other side. The music and chanting suddenly stopped, as the two 
began a different chant, more ancient than any other in the Realm. 
Their voices twined in harmony as together, they placed the crown 
of sparkling emeralds and diamonds on Shannon's head. They assisted 
her to stand between them and face the crowd. Then her voice joined 
theirs, the harmony now in three parts which wove over and under each 
other in a complex and compelling web of sound. Finally, it drew to a 

close, and the assembled all stood.

Andalor announced, "Your Royal Highness Prince Mavor, honorable 
members of the Council of Representatives, good friends and loyal 
subjects -- I present to you -- Queen Shannon!"

All bowed deeply in respect, then wild cheering once again broke out.
She smiled and waved to the crowd, then at a nod from Andalor, grasped 
his hand and they went down the dais steps together. It took much 
longer to exit the hall than it had to process in, as they stopped to 
thank well-wishers along the way. Lord Mandor received a handshake 
from the King and a kiss from the new Queen for his services in their 
cause, and even Ghalbar, new as he was to such gatherings, got a nod 

and a smile.

The crowd, on the other hand, left the hall much more quickly than they 

had arrived, anxious to partake of the sumptuous delicacies, fine wines 
and music in the courtyard. The summer night was perfect for an outdoor 
reception. Torches flickering in the warm breeze lit the jewels and 
finery worn by dancers and merrymakers until, candlemarks later, the 
dawning sun assumed the task....

*     *     *      *

Andalor unconsciously tightened his arms, and Shannon stirred. "I'm 
sorry, love... did I wake you?" he asked softly.

"Not really, I've just been dozing." She ran her hand down his chest, 
pleased, as she had been candlemarks earlier, with the abundance of 
light brown hair her fingers encountered. "I wish so much Mulder and 
Scully could have been here."

"I know, love. In the morning we will use an oracle crystal and get in
touch with them. How would that be?"

In answer, she kissed her husband long and hard.

When he could breathe, Andalor asked, "Sorry we didn't stay longer at 
the reception?"

"Are you kidding? I thought we put our time to much better use." Her 
chuckle was low, sultry as her hand teased his chest, the smooth 
planes of his abdomen. "As a matter of fact, if you're not doing 
anything else right now...."

Quickly, he rolled on top of her, his elbows supporting his weight. 
He licked and nibbled and kissed at the sensitive skin of her neck 
as she squirmed delightedly beneath him. "Queen Shannon, I do 
believe you are insatiable! I thought I had tired you out." 

"Just doing my part for-- oooh, Andy! -- for the Realm," she breathed.
"I think I'm going to love being your wife!"

*     *      *      *

They met in the winecellar, back where the oldest and rarest bottles 
rested on their dusty shelves. The tall patrician man inspected the 
bottles, handling them gently to avoid stirring up the sediment.

"So the King has married his Queen, and all is right with the Realm," 
the austere noble said quietly. "Well, we will have to see what we can 
do about that...."

Ruloth grunted. "The loss of Vestor in the fighting at Hotsprings is
not going to help our cause."

The noble shrugged. "Perhaps not as great a loss as you might expect. 
Vestor served his purpose, but he was, shall we say, not the most 
subtle of men. We will now be entering a phase of our activities where 
the more subtle we can be, the better. No, I think that Vestor had 
outlived his usefulness to us."

"Then his death... was not what it appeared to be? He did not die
from a Dordinal arrow?"

The older man spun around. "Of course he died from a Dordinal arrow! 
But you do not need to know who fired that arrow. I trust I make 
myself clear?"

"Crystal clear, my lord!" Ruloth paused, thinking. Obviously the old 
man was wise enough to see the threat as well as the benefits Vestor 
presented. Possibly, he had even come to know Vestor's plans for his 

future. It would explain the stocky noble's unlikely death on the field 
of battle. Ruloth promised himself not to make the same mistake of 
underestimating the cunning, tenacity and ruthlessness of his Head 
of House. "Then what are your orders for me?"

He went back to checking over his wine collection. "Keep a cool head, 
and your eyes and ears open. I have put certain people into place, 
people who hold to our way of thinking. They have their assigned tasks. 
It is up to them now."

"What are they supposed to do?"

The old noble turned to peer at his lieutenant through narrowed eyes. 
"You are becoming quite curious all of a sudden, Ruloth. If I did not 
know you better, I would suspect you of the same treachery as our 
late friend Vestor."

"I am completely loyal to you, to our plan, my lord!" the younger noble 
protested.

"I know that. If I thought for a single moment otherwise, you would 
not be standing there." He considered for a moment. "Let us just say
that now the King has married his outworlder bitch, it is vital to our 
plans that they do not produce any heirs. What I have said will have 
to suffice. It is our unhappy task now to present the picture of a 
reasonably loyal Noble House. That, and to wait for the people I have 
put into place to see to it that Andalor is the last of his line." He 
smiled.

And Ruloth felt his blood chill.


End of The Magician 3.5 - The Firebrand