From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: "Magician" Ch9/Pr1 (18/31) Date: 31 May 1995 23:34:20 GMT The Magician An X-File Story by Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com) Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the property of the authors. All comments are welcome. Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy! Chapter Nine - Part One Scully lay comfortably in the enormous bed, letting her mind wander. Idly, she wondered what time it was. The light that filtered through the opaque bedcurtains was diffuse, deceiving. It was after dawn, anyway. She looked down at Mulder, his head pillowed on her breasts. He looked absurdly young when he was asleep, she thought. She absently stroked his hair, and he stirred a little, his arms tightening around her as if to reassure himself of her presence, then relaxing again. What the hell had they been so afraid of? How much would this actually have complicated things, she wondered. The past two days with him had been - incredible. Now she regretted all the time they could have been sharing this closeness, but had chosen not to for reasons which now seemed impossible to fathom. There was a soft tap at the door, and Scully heard it open and close. Lita. "Mulder," she whispered, and leaned down to gently touch her lips to his. "Mmmm." Still half asleep, he reached for her, to prolong and deepen the kiss. Funny how in just two days that reaction had become automatic. Scully smiled against his lips. "Not now, love. Time to get up - no, I know, I don't mean that. Lita's here." Mulder sighed and rolled over onto his back and stretched. Finally he opened his eyes. "Breakfast! I'm starved." "Mulder, you're such a romantic." Scully grinned. "Mmm, well, you're the one who said 'not now.' Scully, you don't suppose you can find me something to wear?" She tossed him his shorts from the bottom of the bed, slipped on her nightshirt, and slid out of bed. "Good morning , Lita. We have a favor to ask you," Scully said, crossing to the breakfast table and seating herself. "Of course, Traveller Scully. What can I do for you?" Lita answered without pausing from her task of filling the copper tub with bath water. Mulder finally appeared from behind the bedcurtains and shuffled to the table. "Scully tells me you have a gift for seeing auras. We're going to need some help interpreting someone's aura. Specifically, trying to determine if this person is telling the truth. I've noticed aural changes when someone lies. What do you think, is that true?" "Oh, yes, quite true. The more vibrant the person's aura, the easier it is to tell, but yes, there's almost always some kind of change. Strictly speaking, it isn't related to lying, as much as trying to hide something," Lita said. "I had a brother who was always into mischief and trying to get away with things. He was always surprised he got caught. It took him ages to figure out his aura gave him away. He was not blessed with intelligence, that one." Scully smiled. "So will you help us?" "Yes, of course. What do you want me to do?" Lita looked expectantly from Scully to Mulder. "Just come with us when we question someone," replied Mulder. "Don't say anything until afterwards, when we're alone again, then give us your impressions of what happened to his aura when certain questions were asked. Can you do that?" Lita nodded. "Who are you going to question?" Mulder and Scully looked at each other and a rapid flurry of messages passed between them. Deciding that they were committed to trusting her, Scully finally said "Mage Apprentice Grejor." "Him!" snorted Lita. "I could tell you stories about that one, I could!" Mulder tried to keep the keen interest out of his voice. "Like what, Lita?" She lowered her voice. "Well, I'm not a gossip as the gods well know, but that one has no business being a Mage Apprentice. His gifts are ordinary, very ordinary," she sniffed disdainfully. "Many's the time Reinald almost went mad from frustration trying to teach him. It's been said the only reason Reinald kept him on is that he felt sorry for him. That, and Grejor's determination. He is ambitious, determined to go back to his village as a trained Mage." She stopped and frowned. "What is it?" asked Scully. "Well, now that I think about it," Lita said slowly, "I haven't been running into Grejor as often as usual for the past few days - in fact, I don't think I've actually laid eyes on him for a week or more. I've had a couple of errands to do that involved going to Reinald's chambers, but Grejor always seemed to disappear into another room or a closet whenever I showed up." "Lita, is your ability to read auras well known throughout the castle?" asked Scully, catching Mulder's eye. "Pretty well known. In fact, Reinald himself asked me to help him concerning an aural problem," she finished proudly. "Was Grejor apprenticed to Reinald then?" asked Mulder. "Wait, let me think. Yes, I believe so, very early in his apprenticeship, it was. No, wait! It was when Grejor was being considered for the apprentice post. That's it," Lita smiled. "Reinald himself was having problems reading Grejor's aura. Reinald's really not very good at auras for such a powerful Mage and Grejor's aura is very strange anyway. Blue, but a little on the pale side for anyone with Mage ability, and kind of - "dusty" - is the only way I can describe it. So Reinald asked me to read Grejor's aura for him. I think Grejor was upset about that - a mere maidservant interpreting his aura. He tends to be a little defensive about his aura as it is. So anyway, I told Reinald what I saw." Scully was almost afraid what the outspoken Lita might have said. "What did you tell him?" "Well, I was nice to the lad. He couldn't help it, after all. I was honest with Reinald about the aura - that's a matter of pride with me - but then I said he was a likely looking lad and I was sure that he would work hard. And he has, I'll give him that. He'll do anything to get ahead. All right, will there be anything else?" "Are you coming back for my bath?" asked Mulder hopefully. What had begun as an embarrassing ordeal had become for him a highly appreciated luxury, almost a decadence, that he happily anticipated every morning. Lita laughed. "Heavens no, you're validated now, Mage! That is now something your bondmate may do if she wishes, no one else. I've filled the tub, I'll empty it when you're finished. That's where my duties end now." "Oh. Well, thank you for setting me straight on that," said Mulder, disappointed. "Yes, check back with us in a little while, then we'll go see Grejor." She left, and they began to eat breakfast. Mulder seemed distracted. "Uhhhm...Scully...?" "Only if you promise to behave." - - - - - They were almost ready when Lita rapped at the door about an hour later. While waiting, she busied herself with clearing away the breakfast things, then turned to the tub. She surveyed the flood of water on the floor surrounding the tub and shook her head. "There's a trick to emptying the tub. Leave it for me, don't try to do it yourself." "That's not - " Mulder began. "Thank you, Lita, we'll remember that," said Scully hastily. She finished braiding her damp hair. "Okay, let's go." The three walked through the hallways to Reinald's chambers and knocked. There was no answer. They then checked Grejor's quarters, the food hall, the courtyard and the stables, all without success. "All right, I'm open to suggestions, ladies," said Mulder, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "Any ideas where Grejor might be?" Lita shook her head. "I can put the word out amongst the servants, Mage. That'll probably work as well as anything. Meanwhile, there's duties I must get back to." "Yes, of course. Sorry for wasting your time, Lita," said Mulder. "We'd appreciate your spreading the word. We'll see you tonight; sooner if you find out anything." They sighed simultaneously as they watched her leave. "Mulder, let's try Drellor. He may know where Grejor is. Whether he wants to tell us is another story," said Scully. "Interesting, what Jourdain said about Grejor being at Drellor's chamber yesterday. There may be a perfectly good reason for it, of course, something perfectly innocent, but somehow I kind of doubt it. It sounded like Grejor had been eavesdropping. Besides, Drellor is such a worm, I can't believe anything good about him." "It can't hurt," agreed Mulder, and they struck out for Drellor's quarters. Scully rapped on the door. Drellor's frown turned to an oily smile when he saw Scully. "Oh my dear, how lovely of you to visit me." He had grabbed her hand and put it to his wet lips when he caught sight of a glowering Mulder behind her. He dropped her hand abruptly. "Oh, and Mage Mulder, I am so honored," he said, with considerably less enthusiasm than he had greeted Scully. "What can I do for you?" "We've been looking for Grejor. I don't suppose you'd have any idea where he is, would you?" asked Mulder, somewhat imperiously. "What would you want Grejor for?" asked Drellor suspiciously. "We need to consult with him regarding some magic. With Reinald in jail, Grejor is the only source I have for some of Reinald's books and so on," Mulder answered smoothly. "I'm sorry, I have no idea. I expect he'll turn up sooner or later. Now if you don't mind, I have much to do." Drellor looked pointedly at them, and then the door. "I'm glad to see you bearing up so well, what with the tragedy involving your nephew and all," said a very sympathetic Scully. "It must have been a terrible shock for you. Evidently, Drellor didn't have an ear for sarcasm. "My dear, you have no idea what a blow it's been. That's why I have decided to put all my energy into preparing for the trial. I have applied and been accepted for the role of Prosecutor Royal." The dreadful little man puffed up his chest and began almost strutting around the room. "Yes, if I can't have my beloved Andalor back to normal, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that I have done everything in my power to bring Reinald to justice." "Then you have no doubt that Reinald did it?" Contempt hung on every one of Mulder's words. "None whatsoever," Drellor snapped. "Maybe you can help me, Drellor," said Scully. "We're foreigners and not used to your ways. What happens at the trial, and what will you do? Prosecutor Royal sounds like a very powerful and responsible position." Drellor decided to ignore Mulder's presence in the room and just address himself to Scully, who obviously had much more respect for his position. "My dear, it is, it is. It will be my job to present the Crown's case and to bring in witnesses who can help to show Reinald's guilt." "What witnesses?" asked Scully, puzzled. "I was under the impression that no one knew about it until the Prince was found hours later. Of course, I only know what I hear around the castle, I'm sure you're privy to much more reliable information." "Well, no one saw the actual act itself, no, that's quite true. But there's such a thing as intent, and that will go a long way to proving our case. We will have a very powerful and incriminating witness who can testify to the fact that Reinald had been working on this spell and spoke many times about how Andalor was a thorn in his side." Drellor looked smug. "Well, you certainly seem to have thought of everything," Scully said, a look of admiration on her face. "I'm so sorry we disturbed you. I know you have a lot to do. If you see Grejor, just tell him we're looking for him. Thanks for your time." She favored him with a lovely smile. "Goodbye, my dear. You are welcome back any time." He emphasized the "you." Drellor bent over her hand once again. In a much colder tone, he said, "Goodbye, Mage Mulder." They walked in silence all the way back to their chamber before Mulder started chuckling. "Scully, that was absolutely the most disgusting display of fawning I think I have ever seen in my life. I had no idea you were capable of such duplicity. You may have missed your true calling on the stage. Or possibly as a bunco artist. I learn more fascinating things about you all the time. Come here." When she complied, he wrapped his arms around her. "A whole new slant on the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine," she agreed, looking up at him. "Obsequious Cop/Contemptuous Cop maybe. But we found out a couple things we didn't know before. I would bet any amount of money that Grejor is the star prosecution witness..." "...and Drellor has him stashed away until the trial. I think you're right," Mulder said, resting his cheek on her hair. "It certainly makes a lot of sense. Grejor can testify that he saw Reinald practicing a spell to turn things to stone, and had been talking about how he wanted to exercise more power as Regent." Reluctantly, he let go of her - he needed to pace. "I can't think of anyone else who would be such a strong witness. But he'll be perjuring himself, Scully, and that might be our chance." "I hate to have it wait until the trial," replied Scully, uncomfortable with the prospect. "That's cutting it awfully close. If for some reason the aural changes don't occur or aren't convincing, we don't have anything to fall back on, and almost no time to come up with anything else. She added grimly, "It's not like there's a long appeals process here." "No. So Drellor is the Prosecutor," said Mulder thoughtfully. "That might help us. The man is clever, but not particularly intelligent, and his conceit is a huge weakness." Just then there was a knock at their door. Mulder opened it to discover Tarnor, looking up at him anxiously. "Tarnor! Come in." Scully began to prepare tea. They had been in the Realm long enough now that they were starting to observe some of its customs. One of the greatest breaches of Realm etiquette was not to offer tea to a guest. Mulder seated Tarnor in one of the armchairs by the hearth, and brought over a wooden chair for himself. Once tea had been made and served, the reason that had brought the little gargoyle to their chamber could be discussed. Tarnor accepted the mug gratefully and shifted in his chair. "I've been named Defender Royal. I'm not happy about it, but I can't think of anyone else to do it, and besides, Reinald asked me, so it's official. Reinald said to talk to you, that you're trying to find out who really cast the spell on the Prince. Have you found out anything?" He looked at them hopefully. "We're working on it, Tarnor," Mulder said. "We think we know who did it and why. It's now a matter of getting proof, and we have a plan for that. But I don't know if it will be enough. From what Jourdain told us, the defense evidence has to be overwhelming. I'm not sure we'll have that." Tarnor shook his head. "Poor Jourdain. He would rather cut his own throat than be in the position he's in right now. If it weren't for the incursion of the Dark Realm, he'd resign. But he feels the Realm needs him, and it does. I'll tell you this, if Reinald is found guilty and Jourdain must do his duty as Captain of the Royal Guard, it will be the end of him. He'll lead the fight against the Dark Realm, but he won't survive it - he'll see to that." Scully nodded. "I can't say I'm surprised to hear you say that. You're right, of course - there's more than just Reinald's life at stake here. With Reinald gone, no one is likely to be able to take the spell off the Prince, so in essence, he'll be dead. And Jourdain." She thought of Aldara. If Jourdain fell on the field of battle, she knew that Aldara would follow him into death, at his side and taking as many of the enemy with her as possible. She shook her head, trying to erase the picture. She felt Mulder's mind give hers a reassuring squeeze. "Well, we'll just have to come up with enough evidence to clear Reinald," she said with a confidence she didn't feel. Tarnor's face lightened a bit. "Can you do that? Who do you think enchanted the Prince?" "We're pretty sure it's Grejor," said Mulder. Briefly he explained their reasoning and their plan for using Grejor's aural changes as evidence. "Obviously, we'd prefer to find out before the trial starts if the plan will work by questioning him and having someone interpret his aura. But Grejor seems to have disappeared." "Drellor's hiding him,' Tarnor grunted. "I'm sure of it. He's probably trying to keep him away from you." He sat up and looked more animated than he had since arriving. "I'll tell you something else - I've worked side by side with Grejor. I probably know him better than anyone. I'm going to give you a list of names - all Mages who aren't above dabbling in the Black Arts. Grejor won't have dreamed up that spell himself, he hasn't got the talent. But he's perfectly capable of casting a spell that someone else has made up. Grejor is terribly ambitious. He was complaining to me one day a long time ago of the slow pace of his training, and muttered something about there being a faster way to get what he wanted. I can't be sure, but I think the Black Arts is what he had in mind. You'll need to be careful with these people, Mage Mulder. They are not overwhelmingly powerful, but they are clever and unscrupulous." As Scully looked for parchment, ink and quill pen, Mulder said, "If we can trace the spell, that would help enormously. What do you think the chances are of these people cooperating?" Tarnor shrugged. He accepted the writing materials from Scully and started to jot down names. "I don't know. It's hard to say. Perhaps better than we expect, especially if Grejor has done something to anger them. Such as inviting the scrutiny of a Mage asking all sorts of difficult questions." He handed the list to Mulder and wiggled down from the chair. "Remember, use great care and watch your back. Be ready for anything with these people." The little being started for the door. "Thank you. You've raised my spirits already. I actually think we may have a chance now." He flashed them the alarming gargoyle grin, and left. "What are your plans now? Are you going to check out that list?" Scully asked. "No, I have some research to do, a little assignment from Reinald," Mulder said. Scully looked at him. She couldn't believe he wouldn't want to start investigating Tarnor's list immediately. Mulder shook his head. "Remember when he communicated with me immediately before we left his chambers? He made me promise to make this a priority - looking for a way to reverse the spell on the Prince. He told me that nothing, not even his defense, was to come before this." "But, Mulder," argued Scully, "If we put all our energy into finding the person who put the spell on the Prince, we'll have a better idea of how to reverse it." "That's true only if the guilty party - as we believe, Grejor - decides to confess all and cooperate in reversing the spell. Certainly that would be the best solution to the problem. However, Reinald was of the opinion that we're likely not to have that kind of cooperation, and it may be up to us to find a way. I'll start checking out the names on the list tomorrow. What are you going to do?" "Do you want me to start checking on some of those names?" "Absolutely not, Scully. When we go, it will be together. As it is, when we go tomorrow, I'm going to have to provide a little supernatural protection for us - I wouldn't trust these characters as far as I could throw them." "In that case, I have a lesson with Corvay, if you don't need me for anything else. If Wide River was any example, there's a lot more about healing I have to learn," Scully said, suppressing a shudder. "Let me know if Grejor turns up or anything important happens, okay?" Mulder looked up from the list and smiled warmly at her - a smile that touched not only his eyes, but his mind, and hers as well. "See you back here for dinner?" Nodding, she returned his smile, caressing his mind. Then she was out the door. - - - - - ========================================== Chapter Nine - Part Two - A Note: some of these sections are too long for my buffer, so I"m subdividing again. Sorry for the confusion. REad a before b. With a terrific headache and profound tiredness, Scully finally sank onto a stool. Corvay had been at it for hours, teaching her the chants and stasis spells and other healing techniques reserved for those with the most severe injuries. She felt more prepared for the upcoming carnage now, while hating the fact that it was necessary. Her next lesson would be more difficult still - learning the release chants which would quickly exchange pointless agonized suffering for peaceful death. Wordlessly, she accepted the mug of tea Corvay handed her and took the first scalding sip, eagerly anticipating the resulting spread of warmth and energy. She sighed. "You did well, my dear, very well. Learn these chants and you will be a Healer in every way my equal." Corvay looked at her anxiously. "I'm not going too fast, driving you too hard, am I?" "No, Healer," she half-smiled at him. "Unfortunately, it's necessary. We don't have any idea how much time we have before the invasion of the Dark Realm forces starts in earnest. We have to be ready." "Your healing skills will be.... Scully, are you all right?" The little elf went to her side in response to her look of concentration and concern. "Yes." Scully took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Corvay, we need to get to where Reinald is imprisoned, right away. Mulder is on his way there. Something's wrong with Reinald, Mulder doesn't know what, but he thinks it may be serious. We need to get there now!" The two moved as fast as Corvay's short little legs could carry him, running along hallways and down staircases for what seemed like miles, before finally descending the last staircase and arriving in the dungeon. Mulder had gotten there before them and was in the process of interrogating one of the guards. The atmosphere felt electrically charged and damp. Scully looked around and up at the ceiling, then mentally reminded Mulder to shield. He caught her eyes, nodding almost imperceptibly, and paused a second to do so. The climate started to change immediately. He broke away from the guard and approached her, as Corvay scurried into the open door of Reinald's cell.. "Mulder, what happened?" Scully said anxiously. "I was reading when I suddenly heard Reinald talking to me, saying he had been drugged. By the time he realized it himself, he was almost in a stupor. I contacted you and I followed his thoughts to him as far as I could, then he lost consciousness. Then I had to get directions for the rest of the way here. When I got here he was comatose and unresponsive." "Did he have any idea who did this to him?" Mulder shook his head. "No, he had just had some tea, it must have been in that. He didn't see or hear anything out of the ordinary. According to the guards, the first they knew anything was wrong was when I got here and started yelling at them to let me into his cell. Jourdain should be on his way." Scully and Mulder went into Reinald's cell. Corvay was bent over him, his face twisted in concentration. Impatiently they waited for his assessment. Finally the little healer dropped Reinald's hand and opened his eyes. He picked up the tea cup by the side of the bed and delicately sniffed at it, then put it down. Standing, he motioned them out of the cell. "He's in a deep coma. I have identified the herbal involved. As you may have suspected, it was introduced into his tea. It's relatively rare, but I am familiar with its properties. Reinald will need watching, but the best treatment is for him to simply sleep it off." Corvay looked from Mulder to Scully. "I could attempt to erase or reverse the effects, but such treatment isn't normally used and can have some dangerous side effects. If there is no pressing need for him to be conscious, I would suggest we allow him to sleep. I will stay here with him, just in case." "Could this drug have killed him?" Mulder asked the healer. "It's unlikely. It could have, but that would be unexpected. Even at quite high doses, the effect seems to be more or less the same, the length of the coma is the only variant." "How long do you think this will last?" Corvay considered. "From the amount I deduce he has ingested, I would not expect him to be back to normal for three or four days. If he had finished that cup of tea, he would have been out for five or six days." "In other words, almost until the trial," said Mulder. Corvay nodded. "He may have very brief periods of sentience starting probably the day after tomorrow. I would prefer to use those times for giving him fluids, rather than having him talk, unless it is critical." He looked at Mulder. "No, Corvay, you take care of him. Whatever you say is fine." He lowered his voice. "Actually, we made plans before he was arrested to deal with this eventuality. I would suggest that from now on his food and drink is tested." "While Scully is here and can stay with Reinald, I'll go back and fetch the teas and potions I will need from my workroom. We won't trust anything that doesn't come from there." "Good plan," said Mulder. Scully went into Reinald's cell to watch over him and Corvay left to fetch supplies from his workroom. A deep growling voice came from the staircase and preceded the entry of Jourdain. "I had a few words with the Healer. I gather the news is not serious?" Jourdain said. "Serious enough. But I don't think anyone wanted to kill Reinald," Mulder said slowly. "Certainly if they had wanted to they could have. But for some reason they didn't." "Then why would anyone do such a thing?" Jourdain demanded. "Reinald wasn't going anywhere." "I think to prevent his communicating with me. We kept up a telepathic communication from the time of his arrest - I could ask his advice, he could give me information. Obviously, someone thought that was dangerous." Mulder paused. "Whoever it was seems certain that Reinald will be found guilty. Otherwise, I think they would have just slipped him a lethal dose of poison and been done with it. Whoever drugged him wants him to go through the torment of the trial and execution, wants him to die in shame. And that, Jourdain, speaks of someone with a lot of hatred for Reinald." The Captain grunted. "Do you know who did it?" "We're working on it and I think we're getting pretty close," Mulder said encouragingly. "Certainly this attack on Reinald is a sign that someone is worried about what we might find out." "May the gods prove you right, Mage," Jourdain sighed. "I don't know how I'll get through this if he is found guilty." "I know. We're doing everything we can. Tarnor gave us some more information that may prove valuable." Mulder smiled. "We have a plan. Try not to worry." Jourdain shrugged. "I think I'll sit by my old friend a while." Mulder nodded. Scully stepped out of the cell to give him some privacy. The grizzled soldier had seemed close to tears when he entered the cell. Answering her unspoken question, Mulder said, "It could have been Grejor, it's hard to say. Could have been one of Drellor's lackeys, too. I don't think we'll ever prove it either way. Reinald didn't know who slipped him the drug, I'm certain of that." Corvay returned with Aldara in tow, both loaded down with pots and jars and kettles. "I have everything I'll need for the next three days. After that, I'll need someone to go back for more supplies. Scully?" "I'll be happy to, Healer," Scully replied. Corvay nodded, then entered Reinald's cell and started unpacking his potions. Aldara put down what she had carried into the cell and stood looking at Jourdain for a few minutes. He appeared to have turned to stone himself as he sat by his friend's bedside, holding his hand. She walked out of the cell and over to Scully and Mulder. "Scully, would you walk with me back to my quarters? I need to ask your advice about something." Aldara's voice was uncharacteristically tentative and her eyes reddened. "Sure, give me just a second." The half elf moved away to the staircase. "Mulder, I'd better go, she seems really upset," Scully whispered, searching his face. "Do you mind?" "Of course not, go." Mulder smoothed back some hair that had escaped from her braid. "I'll be leaving here shortly anyway, there's not much I can do. I'll just go back to our room. We probably missed Lita - she'll have set out supper by now." "Go ahead and eat without me. I don't know how long this will take. Just save me some and I'll have it when I get back." She sent him a more personal farewell along their mind link and reached up to touch his cheek. He captured her hand and held it there for a few seconds, sending his own message. She blushed lightly and smiled, then joined Aldara and the two left. Mulder strolled into Reinald's cell. Jourdain hadn't moved a muscle. He squatted down next to the healer and spoke in a very low voice. "Corvay? I'm going now. Send a guard for me if you need me for anything. Let me know if his condition worsens, all right? And you might suggest to Jourdain to limit access down here to only those we know we can trust." "Don't worry Mage, Reinald will do fine." Corvay turned his head to observe the scene at the bedside. "He's doing better than Jourdain," he remarked with sympathy. There was no adequate reply to make. Mulder merely nodded and then made his way out of the dungeon. - - - - - Lita had indeed already prepared their chamber for night when he got back. The torches were lit, a fire blazed in the fireplace, and the table was set for dinner. He lifted the lid of the pot set on the hearth coals - looked like some kind of soup. He sniffed it appreciatively. Lately his appetite had been enormous. Rather inconvenient, with the food shortages becoming worse and worse. There's your incredible timing again, Mulder, he said to himself. He ladled out some soup and sipped several spoonfuls of the hot, savory liquid. The edge off his hunger, he now took the time to pick up the knife and start slicing the warm loaf of black bread on the cutting board. After the fifth slice, he put the knife down and flexed his right hand. Strange, he thought. The pins and needles sensation in his hand and the numbness in his fingertips must be some kind of side effect to Gate building - little wonder, all that raw energy coursing down his arms and out his fingers. He picked up a slice of bread and munched on it thoughtfully for a minute or two. It was as he lifted the spoon to his lips again that the first pain hit him. "Aaaaghh!" Mulder's face contorted in torment as a spasm twisted his stomach, leaving him shaking and sweating when it passed a few seconds or an eternity later. He struggled for breath, feeling like he couldn't get enough air. Now both hands felt numb, and his lips and his feet. He focused his thoughts. "Scully, I need you...poison...." He got no further. This time the pain drove him to his knees, leaving him helpless to do anything other than grab his abdomen and scream in agony. His chest got tighten and tighter, until it was just too hard to fight against the pain and the tightness anymore, and he welcomed oblivion as a friend. - - - - - "Aldara, the only thing you can do is to be there for him." Scully sat across the table from her friend, rubbing her right hand absently. "It's thankless, it's one of the hardest things you'll ever do, but you can't force the issue. He'll just freeze you out. When he's ready and he needs you enough, he'll come to you and you'll be there for him." Scully looked at her friend with sympathy. "Believe me, I've been there and I know." Aldara smiled sadly. "I just wish I could do more." Scully nodded. "I know exactly -" Suddenly she went dead white and grabbed her midsection, barely containing a scream of pain. "Oh, God, Mulder!" she breathed. As much as she hated herself for it, she shielded herself from him. She couldn't help him if she were writhing on the floor, sharing his agony. "Aldara, get Corvay, quick! Mulder's been poisoned and I think he's dying. Bring Corvay to our chamber. Go!" She ran until her sides ached and her lungs burned. She burst into their chamber and to Mulder's side on the floor by the table. He was unconscious, cyanotic and barely breathing, twitching from time to time as spasms continued to wrack his body. Damn, Mulder, don't die, please, she pleaded. She started mouth to mouth resuscitation, seeing his color improve slightly after a few minutes. In contact with him, she entered his mind and body as a healer, easily finding the toxins that were ravaging his body. Plant alkaloids. Neurotoxins. Probably from poisonous mushrooms. I can do this, she told herself. I've learned this. Frantically, she mentally searched through her repertoire of healing spells and chants, looking for the one which would eliminate this poison. She seized on it, gave Mulder a few more breaths, then started the chant. She didn't notice when Corvay and Aldara ran breathless into the room. She noticed only that another voice took up the chant, adding strength, helping her first to visualize, then to destroy the toxins that were killing her life-bondmate. Aldara put the potion they had brought with them onto the fire to heat. All three would need the restorative when the chant was finished. She looked at the Mage. He had lost the alarming blue color he had when they arrived and seemed to be breathing by himself now. He and the healers continued to endure spasms of pain which occasionally wrung an involuntary gasp from them. Finally, after more than an hour, the chant slowed to a stop, and the healers sagged with exhaustion. Mulder lay pale and quiet on the floor, breathing normally. Aldara pulled on the braided cord on the wall. Within a minute or two Lita was there. Together they got Mulder into bed. Then they assisted the healers to armchairs and poured the restorative potion. They held the cups to the healers' lips until they had regained enough strength to drink unassisted. Eyes blazing, Aldara turned on Lita. "Tell me about your dinner preparations. Did they include poison?" Lita drew back, horrified at first, then the elven temper flared. She met Aldara's glare and snapped, "I prepared the food and the room as I always do. No one was here, so I have no witnesses. But I didn't do it! The Travellers are my responsibility. Whoever did this has made me their enemy, and I will see to it that they pay dearly." "Aldara, Lita didn't do it," Scully said wearily. "She has no reason to do it. We're often not here when she prepares the room for the night. There's no lock on the door, anyone could have come in and added the poison to the soup." Corvay piped up. "Especially if they knew that you would be occupied elsewhere. This may have been another reason for drugging Reinald - to make sure you would be out of the room so there would be an opportunity to poison the food." He paused. "Scully, someone hates Mage Mulder. This is one of the most painful poisons in our world, and from the amount in his bloodstream, there was enough to kill him ten times over. Whoever did this wanted him to die horribly." Staring into the fire, Scully just nodded. To reassure herself more than for any other reason, she touched Mulder's mind gently and felt only refreshing, dreamless sleep. No pain. She took a deep breath and tried to stop her hands from shaking. "Scully, I'm going unless you need me," Aldara said in a low voice. "I'll tell Jourdain what happened." Again, Scully nodded. Tearing her eyes from the fire, she looked at her and said, "Thanks, Aldara, for everything. And good luck." Aldara smiled and left. Lita started clearing away the supper things, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Lita, are you all right?" The elf nodded and bit her lip. "I'm just so sorry." "It wasn't your fault, Lita," Scully said firmly. "Everything's fine now. If you want to help, you could bring us more food, and some tea. I don't trust the tea that's here." Happy to be able to do something useful, Lita cleared the remains of the food that had been left for Mulder and bustled out. In the companionable silence, in the calm that followed the frantic activity to save Mulder's life, the inevitable reaction began to set in and some slow tears made their way down Scully's cheeks. Corvay, concerned, reached out and took her hand. Scully wiped the tears away with the back of her other hand. "Don't mind me, Corvay, I usually get shaky after the fireworks are over." She tried to smile, but her chin started to quiver. "It was so close," she whispered, the tears threatening once again. Corvay held her for a few minutes, reaching in, touching her mind, bolstering it with the support of friendship and a healing chant. Scully sighed, and smiled. "Thanks don't seem enough but they're all I have. Thank you for Mulder's life,' she said simply. "You'd probably better get back to your other patient now." He got down from the chair. "You're a true healer now, Scully. You did everything perfectly, including pulling down your own shield. If you hadn't, you'd both be dead, you know that, don't you?" She nodded. Corvay continued, "Anyway, I didn't save him. You did. I'll check with you in the morning to see how he's doing." As the healer went out the door, Lita came in, carrying a pot of soup, bread, tea, and several delicacies they hadn't seen in quite some time. "Don't worry, Traveller. I have tasted all this food myself, and it is safe. I found a few of his favorites, maybe it will tempt him to eat again." "Thank you, Lita. You're a lifesaver." She smiled warmly at the servant as she left. When Lita had gone, she went to Mulder's bedside and checked him. She could have done it psychically from across the room, but suddenly needed the reassurance of seeing him with her eyes and touching him with her hands. Satisfied he was doing well, she sat at the table and forced the first few bites down her throat. Then she found she was really quite hungry, and ate well. She saved half the food and made some daytime tea, feeling she needed the energy. She heard Mulder stirring, and poured some restorative potion into a cup and brought it to him. His eyes were open and he was attempting to sit up. He was pale, drawn and weak, but otherwise showed no sign of how close he had come to death only a couple of hours before. "Let me help." Scully assisted him to sit up and propped his back with pillows. She kept a steadying hand on the cup as he lifted it shakily to his lips. "Do you remember what happened?" He looked up at her from under his lashes. "Only too well - eidetic memory, remember?" he said weakly, with a fair attempt at a smile. Then he sobered. "Unbelievable pain, and I couldn't breathe, and I called you, and - and then you shut down on me, Dana. Why?" His eyes weren't accusing, they merely reflected hurt. "It was the hardest thing I ever did, Mulder," she whispered, crawling into bed beside him. "I felt like I was abandoning you. But you weren't shielding at all. Even before you called to me, I was having the same pain and difficulty breathing you were having. I couldn't help you that way, I couldn't even move. I knew I had to get here and get into a healing mode. I didn't WANT to drop that shield, I HAD to, or neither of us would have survived." She looked at him anxiously. He took her hand and kissed the palm. "I'm sorry. I should have known it was something like that. I wasn't thinking too clearly at the time." She wasn't shielding now, and Mulder saw only too clearly what was going through her mind. "No! Dana, no!" he said, appalled. She didn't pretend not to understand him. "I only thought about it for a second, when I first found you. It just flashed into my mind how hard it would be to go on if...if you died. And how easy it would be...just to remove my shield while you were dying, and...and be with you. But it was only for a moment, Mulder...I - I don't think I would have done it." Mulder looked shaken. "This is the kind of thing I've been afraid of since the first time Reinald mentioned this life- bond. Is that possible - that just by not shielding yourself, you could die as well?" She nodded. "Corvay has been extremely informative on the subject. Theoretically, you could shield, if you were in any condition to do so, to try to prevent my being with you. But yes, it's not only possible, it's often what happens among life- bondmates, especially those who have been validated for a long time. The whole concept of life without the other becomes, over time, unthinkable. In some cases, physically impossible." Mulder took her hands in his. "Dana, you've got to promise me you'll never seriously consider doing anything like that ever again. Promise me that if anything happens to me, you'll shield yourself, you'll go on." She regarded him quietly for several moments. "Can you honestly promise me the same thing?" For a long time he was motionless, eyes down, focused on nothing in particular while he considered his thoughts. When he did raise his eyes, it was to look directly into hers. "No, I can't. I can't promise that." She shrugged and sadly smiled. - - - - - Mulder was up even before Lita arrived the next morning. Most of the ill-effects from the previous day were gone. Last night he had nibbled at some of the food Lita had brought, but had not eaten much, his lack of appetite stemming less from his being poisoned than it did the conversation he had had with Scully. He had always considered the bond in terms of what losing her would do to him emotionally. He hadn't seriously considered what it might do to her emotionally, or what it could do physically to either one of them. Now there was a whole new set of life-defining questions and decisions, things that they needed to come to terms with quickly in view of the perilous times. He had slept little, with long periods of tossing and turning, the life-bond - or death-bond - issue churning in his mind. His only respite had been the times when he had reached for her and they had made love with an almost manic passion, so mindful were they of what they had nearly lost. He had washed and dressed and was seated in an armchair, checking through one of Reinald's tomes on spells when Lita tapped and entered. She took in the shadowy shape of Scully through the filmy bedcurtains, and quietly made her way down the length of the room to the hearth. "It's good to see you up, Mage, I hope you're feeling better. I've brought breakfast, and it's been tested," Lita whispered, laying the food on the table. "Thanks, Lita. No bath this morning, I've already washed," he responded in a low voice, and gave her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Is there something wrong, Mage? You seem - not yourself this morning, if you'll forgive my saying so." "Just a little tired, Lita. Don't worry about it." "Very well. I'll be back later to clean up." The little elf quietly closed the door behind her. Mulder poured tea and absently ate some bread and fruit, never looking up from his scrutiny of the book until he felt Scully's presence behind him. She leaned over and put her arms around his neck, stroking his cheek with her own. He closed the book, turned, and his strong arms drew her into his lap. For a long time neither of them said anything. Although neither was shielding, they did not seek each other's thoughts, perhaps already knowing what they were, perhaps discomfited enough by their own. "I'm so scared, Dana," Mulder mumbled into her hair. "I'm so scared of losing you." "I know, love. Me, too." Scully caressed his cheek, and they were quiet for a while. Some minutes passed, then she said softly, "I read a line in a book once that I've always remembered. I don't know what the title of the book was or the story or anything else, but I've always remembered the line, which said 'The only sin love can commit is to be joyless'. " She paused for a few seconds. "We can't let our fear of losing each other take away the joy, Mulder. If we do, there's no point to the life-bond, there's no point to anything." She looked up at him, her eyes peaceful. He entered her mind then, seeking the calm, the serenity that was reflected in her eyes, letting the reason of her mind nurture and comfort his, drawing on her courage to sustain him. They remained motionless, locked in each other's embrace, locked in each other's mind. Finally, Mulder sighed, with joy and contentment this time, and kissed her lips gently. "You need to eat. Lita will be back soon and we have to hit the road. Before we go, I have to do a little spell casting. I've just been looking for the best one for our purposes." Scully gave him a little squeeze, then moved to the table and started eating. "Where are we going first?" "Well, Tarnor annotated his list. He seemed to think our best bet is someone called Baalmas in the elven village of Wishalla, which isn't too far from here. Scully, I want you to go armed. I have no idea what to expect, but I want to be prepared for anything. If nothing else, maybe we can do a 'little winning through intimidation'. I don't for a moment think anyone is going to confess they made up the spell for Grejor, not unless they have some kind of death wish. It may be enough just to find out Grejor was nosing around about such a spell, and hopefully find out something about it so we can figure out how to remove it." Scully hurried finished her breakfast, washed and dressed. She strapped on her sword and stuck her dagger down her right boot. "Okay, Mulder, I'm ready." He, too, was ready, just finishing buckling the clasp of his Mage cloak. "I shouldn't say so, but I hate this thing. It gets twisted around my legs, I can't mount my horse properly, and it's so damn ostentatious. But I suppose I have to dress the part. Okay, Scully, stand directly in front of me. I have carefully researched and come up with a little something that I think will assist us to 'watch our backs' as Tarnor so helpfully suggested." His eyes on Reinald's book propped on the table, he spread his arms wide with his hands up. In the long cloak, he reminded Scully strongly of the priests she had watched in her youth from a rear pew of a crowded church. He muttered the incantation. The electric-blue flames coursed down his body and up his arms to arc between his upraised hands and enclose the two of them in a cocoon of power. Scully felt a tingling sensation all over her body and shivered a little. Finally, as Mulder's incantation wound to a close, the electric blue faded to almost white, adding what appeared to be another layer to their auras. The tingling sensation remained, though at a less irritating level. Mulder opened his eyes and lowered his arms. "That should do it." "How long will it last?" asked Scully. "And what precisely is it supposed to do?" "Theoretically, it's supposed to act as a kind of shield, preventing most things from getting through - tangible things like knives as well as intangible things like spells. It should last until the sun goes down, at least if I've read Reinald's book correctly. Sometimes some of the language is kind of representational or symbolic, so it's hard to tell. Ready?" "'Theoretically', Mulder?" He smiled at her. They went down to the stables to get their horses. After a good-natured argument about who was going to be responsible for navigation, Scully got directions for finding all the places on Tarnor's list. At least as far as she was concerned, this significantly increased their chances of being back at the castle before the spell wore off. ----------- =============================================== Chapter Nine - Part Two - B The village of Wishalla was an hour's easy ride away. The weather had turned grayer, colder and windier in the past several weeks, and Mulder and Scully were looking forward to the inevitable tea when they arrived. Following custom, they stopped first at the house of the village chief to announce their arrival, offer their good wishes and state their business. After tea was served, they asked for the location of Baalmas' house. The elf chief's eyebrows drew together in a fierce scowl and he spat on the dirt floor. "By your aura, Mage, you are honorable and powerful. Why would you want to have anything to do with Baalmas?" Mulder soothed the chief and got the directions he was looking for. The elf concluded his meeting with them as quickly as hospitality would allow. "Not a popular guy, this Baalmas, " Mulder commented to Scully. They were approaching the outskirts of the village, and easily found Baalmas' hut. Scully insisted on preceding Mulder into the windowless hovel. Inside, it was dark and there was a pervasive rank odor, an odor of dead things. They found the Mage looking over some books by the light of a single candle. He was tiny, even for an elf, but had a dissipated look about him they had yet to see in the Realm. His appearance was not helped by the fact that he was missing his left eye. He ignored them for as long as he dared, then turned to Mulder. "To what do I owe this honor?" he sneered. "We're looking for information. Information that I think it would be in your best interest to share with us," Mulder began. "And what makes you think it's in my interest to share anything with you?" snapped Baalmas. "I know Reinald had nothing to do with the Prince's spell. When he is released, he's going to be very angry with the people responsible - very angry indeed. Together our powers are formidable, as you can imagine. I think you'll rest easier, knowing that you cooperated." Mulder regarded him blandly. Baalmas looked at the him, considered the power of his aura, and Reinald's reputation. He picked up a cup and hurled it in frustration across the room to smash against a wall. The suddenness and violence of his action alarmed Scully, who pulled her dagger and had it at Baalmas' throat almost before the shards of the cup had hit the floor. His one eye bulged out of his head and he babbled in terror. "No, please, spare me, Mage. Call off this warrior. Please, I'll tell you what I know." Mulder signed to Scully and she shoved Baalmas onto the one chair in the room. He nervously licked his lips. "Someone from the castle came to me many days ago, seeking a spell that could render someone ineffective. I know such spells, but I didn't trust this person not to give me away, so I refused to help him." "Who was it? Was it Mage-Apprentice Grejor?' demanded Scully. He looked at her for a few seconds and finally nodded. "Yes. He didn't tell me the intended recipient of the spell and I didn't want to know. The less I know, the better. Anyway, he got no spell from me." "So who did you send him to see?" asked Mulder. Baalmas looked at him resentfully, then mumbled a name. "Zoalstra. I told him to go to Zoalstra. She's mad, it would never even occur to her to fear for her life. She'd cast such a spell for any reason or for none, it makes no difference to her." "Where can we find Zoalstra?" "The last I heard she was in Blackforest Township, half a day's ride from here. Just don't tell her that I sent you. She's mad, she'd turn me into a bug just for the fun of it." He shuddered. "Our silence depends on your cooperation," said Scully. "We want you at the trial. You may not even have to testify, but we want you there. It starts in five days. If we do not see you there, you won't have to worry about this Zoalstra turning you into a bug" - she indicated Mulder - "he'll do it himself, and save her the trouble. Do we understand each other?" His expression made his hatred of them quite clear, but he grudgingly nodded. "Aye, I'll be there." They left the hovel and walked back into the village. "So what was that, Scully - Bad Cop/Bad Cop?" He smiled over at her. She shrugged. "Don't argue with success, Mulder." Not trusting Baalmas' directions, they confirmed the way to Blackforest Township by asking the village chief and set out immediately. They made good time and arrived in the mid afternoon. Finding Zoalstra was more of a problem, as the inhabitants of the gargoyle settlement appeared terrified of her and were reluctant to point them in her direction. Finally, a few folk were convinced by the power of Mulder's aura and they were directed to the hut. If anything, Zoalstra's hut made Baalmas' look like a palace. There was a pall of pure evil in and about the place, a stomach-turning stench that nothing could eradicate. Nothing within a hundred feet of the hut lived - not a tree, not an insect, not a blade of grass. The gargoyle looked normal enough, except for the lunatic glint in her eye. "And what can I do for you, Mage? Come to trade spells with me, perhaps?" She chuckled nastily. "We've come to ask if you assisted an acquaintance of ours with a spell," Mulder said. "Oh, I assist many. Perhaps if you described him..." "A young human, smaller than me. Brown hair, brown eyes. From Fairwood Keep." At the last clue, her eyes flickered with recognition. "I do seem to recall someone like that. Now what did he need help with?" Seeing she had their complete attention, she was not about to lose it. "What was it, now - maybe help finding a lost valuable, perhaps. No, no that wasn't it. What was it?" She continued to play the kindly eccentric, stringing them along. Finally, Scully tired of it and began to investigate some of the objects in the hovel. "Now what was it, if I could only remem- Hey, what is it you're doing there? Stay away from my things!" Her voice had risen to a scream that could shatter glass. "Mulder, take a look." Scully removed the lid from a tiny pot to reveal what looked like several human eyeballs. "No! Leave that alone - you'll spoil it!" The infuriated gargoyle began to shriek. "Get out! You've ruined it, it's no good anymore. You'll pay. I'll see to it you pay!" Moving like lightning, she pickled up a long thin knife from the table and threw it at Scully's back. Scully reacted quickly and dived for cover while withdrawing her own dagger. But the stiletto struck Scully's spell-enhanced aura and ricocheted back at Zoalstra. The blade stuck her mid-chest with such force that she was pinned to the wall behind her. She died immediately. "You alright, Scully?' asked Mulder anxiously. "Yeah." Scully removed the stiletto from the wall and the gargoyle's body slumped to the floor. "She won't make much of witness, however." "No," admitted Mulder, looking at the black magician's body distastefully. "But then again, I don't think she would have anyway, even if she had been alive. And we may have just done this settlement a service. We'd better go find the chief and tell him what happened." The explanation didn't take long, and Mulder had correctly deduced the village's reaction. General rejoicing broke out as the word spread. Mulder and Scully were showered with food and flasks of tea for the journey back to Fairwoods. Zoalstra's body and her hovel were set ablaze. They lost no time in setting out. There was no way now that they would be back at the castle before dark, a fact which worried Scully greatly. After two hours they stopped by the side of a small creek to rest and water the horses while there was still a little light, and had some tea and food themselves. When the last rays of the sun faded from view, they remounted and urged their horses into a fast trot down the narrow road illuminated by the two moons. They were nearly back at Fairwoods when Scully noticed that her skin was no longer tingling. "Mulder?" "I know. I would guess that we're no longer shielded. Well, it was nice while it lasted." Mulder glanced at Scully, who was suddenly alert and looking around. "What is it?" Scully drew her sword and said grimly, "I think it's soul-eaters. I can't see or hear them, but I can feel their presence. Let's get going, Mulder." The horses needed little urging to break into a gallop; they has also sensed the creatures. They outran the pack and eventually slowed, only to sense another. "What the hell is going on? They shouldn't be this close to the castle," Scully murmured. Again they spurred their horses. This time, however, before they outran the second pack, they had picked up a third. The battlements of the castle were in sight when suddenly, they were running for their lives. Scully's horse screamed as two soul-eaters converged on it, their claws raking its flanks. Her sword flashed, decapitating one of the monsters and slashing the other deeply across its ribs. Mulder concentrated what energy he could while riding at a gallop, stunning two more of the creatures and having the satisfaction of seeing them drop in their tracks. The last soul- eater persisted in chasing them all the way to the castle portcullis, when Scully turned in her saddle and impaled it on her sword. She tipped the weapon, letting the creature's body slide to the ground, even while her horse never broke stride in its race to get through the portcullis to safety. They flew through the gate which crashed down behind them, and slid to a stop in the courtyard. They dismounted, dirty, disheveled and panting. Mulder looked at Scully, liberally splashed with the blood of soul-eaters, her hair, freed from its braid, wild around her face. "I'll say this, Scully - a date with you is never boring." End chapter Nine =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part One As the day of the trial approached, Fairwoods Keep was filled to bursting. For days there had been a constant parade of Council Representatives and their entourages arriving at the castle, needing food, shelter and stabling. Many of the Representatives were accompanied by hundreds of kinsmen, militia members and camp followers, sometimes in an attempt to impress onlookers and rivals with mere numbers, but more often simply for security during the trip. As Mulder and Scully had found, the woods were alive with soul-eaters. The Representatives of other species who had come the furthest distance had brought their entire armies with them, realizing that the time was soon approaching when their armies would be activated and called to Fairwood for deployment on the field of battle. Everyone felt the spectre of the Prophecy and knew that time was short before the Realm would be forced to fight for its survival. Prince Mavor was one such leader. An elven Prince who had journeyed two hundred miles to attend the Council, he would have been making his way to Fairwoods in any case. His fine-boned, almost gaunt, aristocratic features were calm and serious as he and his general Karvan led hundreds of elven cavalry troops, clothed in yellow leather and silver armor. Elves were famed for their horsemanship both on and off the field of battle, and the addition of these troops would give Jourdain one more force for the Dark Realm to reckon with. Meanwhile, the noble houses squabbled continually amongst themselves. The House of Dordinal schemed with the House of Maalfees against the House of Ranfaus, then Maalfees would align with Ranfaus against Dordinal in an endless dance of changing partners. Aldara's internal security forces had been hard pressed to keep the hot-blooded guards of each of the Houses from each others' throats, and were constantly breaking up fistfights, swordplay and duels between noble cliques. The day before the trial was difficult on all involved, the only positive being that Reinald had recovered from the effects of his drugging and was completely back to normal. Otherwise the news was uniformly unpleasant. There had been further attacks in the eastern part of the Realm by Hunters and Destroyers in addition to which two Representatives and their entire entourages had been slaughtered on their journey to the castle. Grejor was still missing, and Mulder and Scully had been unable to unearth any more evidence to support Reinald. Jourdain had spent the day meeting with Mulder, Reinald, and the various species leaders and generals all day, trying to come up with a battle strategy that was both effective and agreeable to all parties. This seemed less and less likely with each successive meeting. Meanwhile, Aldara's forces had broken up at least forty seven fights that day, some caused by overcrowding, some by interspecies tensions, and most by the noble houses instigating trouble. Later that night, Aldara prepared a simple supper for herself in her remote quarters. She was exhausted, depressed and very troubled. Cherishing her friend's advice and support, she had spoken briefly to Scully that morning, expressing the terrible depth of her worry about Jourdain and the responsibility he was handling. From the moment of Reinald's arrest, he had remained remote, tightly coiled, keeping himself rigidly controlled. Aldara knew it was mostly a facade; as she had a good idea of the hell he was going through. It was probably too early in their relationship to hope for, but not for the first time she wished that he trusted her enough, felt comfortable enough to share his feelings with her, to let her ease some of his burden. In fact, Aldara thought bitterly, it was too early in their relationship to even be sure they had a relationship. There was a tap on her door, so soft she wasn't even sure she had heard it. She opened it, expecting anything but the huge form of Jourdain on the threshold. "Jourdain! Please come in. Have you eaten?" Jourdain threw himself into a chair by the hearth and sighed. She pressed a mug of tea into his hand which he sipped at automatically, appreciating the little boost it gave him. Aldara allowed the silence to continue as she set an extra place at the table, dished out stew, and sliced bread. "Come and eat, Jourdain." The big man moved slowly to the table and sat on the rough wooden bench. "Thank you, Aldara." They ate in silence, Jourdain still distracted by his thoughts of battle plans, his friend's trial and his possible role as executioner. He didn't eat well, but still better than he had since Reinald's arrest. When he had finished, Aldara cleared the dishes away as he remained at the table, leaning on his elbows, supporting his aching head in his hands. Aldara washed the dishes, wiped down the table and added another log on the fire, all in silence. Finally, she sat in a chair at the hearth, staring into the fire. The silent minutes stretched out. Jourdain wrenched his mind from the difficulties of the day and observed Aldara. In the light of the fire, she was beautiful, her appearance deceptively fragile. Suddenly he realized what her quiet, unwavering, undemanding support meant to him, and what it had cost her. "I love you, Aldara," Jourdain whispered hoarsely. "I've no right to say it, but I love you and I need you." Aldara sat very still for a moment, hoping she had heard correctly. She stood and slowly crossed to him, and standing behind him, began to massage the tense muscles of his neck with her small but strong hands. He groaned a little and sagged back against her. After a few minutes, he reached back, captured her hands and brought them to his lips. "Aldara?" "Yes, Jourdain?" Her reply was quiet, calm. Circling her wrist with his hand, he pulled her down to sit next to him on the bench. "Aldara, did I say something wrong?" "No...no, you said something I've been waiting to hear all my life." Her emerald eyes were huge, loving, trusting. Gently he reached out to stroke her cheek, then his hand went to cup the back of her head, fingers tangled deep in her ebony curls as he closed the distance between them. His lips were soft on hers until, impatient with his gentleness, Aldara nipped at his lip and deepened the kiss. He made a sound of surprise in his throat and returned her passion, letting her set the pace. After some minutes, she broke away to catch her breath. His lips found the tips of her ears and she gasped softly. He had discovered how sensitive her ears were mostly by accident the one and only time he had kissed her. If Mulder and Scully had not chosen that time to visit, things would have quickly gotten out of control. Out of control was definitely where things were headed now. He tongued and sucked the tips of her ears, sending her into a paroxysm of need. She unbuckled his belt and her own with unsteady fingers, discarding leather and weapons on the floor. Her hands reached into his tunic and under his shirt, stroking the broad chest with its mat of curly dark hair. He brought her tunic over her head, adding it to the heap of discarded articles on the floor by their feet, and pulled her shirt from where it was tucked into her breeches. Lifting her in his arms, he stood, crossed the room and gently laid her on the bed, sitting beside her. He sat for a few seconds, just looking at her, knowing himself to be fortunate to have her love and trust. And then suddenly he was afraid. "Jourdain. What is it?" Aldara sat up, touching his face, his chest, alarmed at the look of concern and fear on his face. "I want you so badly, Aldara." His voice was tight. Etched into his features, his need was no secret. "I want you too, Jourdain." He kissed her softly, his hands skimming lightly over her curves, and wondered how he was going to ask what he needed to know. "Aldara, you've not-" He stopped, not knowing how to go on. She looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue, then realized what it was that he was asking. "No, I haven't. Does that matter?" He gathered her in his arms and held her close, savoring her warmth, her return embrace. "I'm so afraid of hurting you," he whispered. She smiled, and pulled away from him far enough that he could see her face. "I love you, Jourdain, and I want this. Stop worrying, please." He searched her face, a little reassured by her lack of fear, but knowing that it was based mostly on naiveté and blind trust in him. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I'm not a child." Her smile broadened and she snuggled close to him, her lips near his ear, her breath tickling and caressing at the same time. "Besides, you do that with my ears again, and you're going to have to worry about my hurting you!" she purred provocatively. Jourdain chuckled in his throat, kissed her deeply, then moved slowly and deliberately to her lovely pointed ears. - - - - - "We feel like we've let you down, Tarnor." Tarnor shook his head. "You've done better than I had dared hope. We have Baalmas and we have the evidence of Grejor's aura. I don't think Drellor has a clue that we have any kind of defense to mount, so that's in our favor, too. Grejor's time as a witness will be critical - first, that we have correctly deduced that he is the main prosecution witness, and secondly, to see how his aura behaves under questioning. Prince Mavor of the elves is here. He is reputed to have the most sensitive eye for auras in the kingdom. He will be a very powerful impartial witness to corroborate what Lita has to say about the aural changes. And then we have several character witnesses, yourselves included, who can swear to Reinald's affection for the boy. I don't see what more we can do." Scully sighed. "I'm just concerned about any tricks that Grejor could play. Is there any way he can disguise his aura, or anything like that?" She looked at Mulder. He was quiet for a few minutes, eyes seemingly focused somewhere across the room. Finally he shook his head. "Reinald doesn't know of anything that could disguise or camouflage it. But Grejor's familiarity with unscrupulous Mages who practice the Black Arts has me worried. I suppose it's possible that one of them might know a few tricks Reinald doesn't. After all, who, other than someone who is doing something wrong, would want to disguise his aura?" Mulder began pacing around the room. "The one thing that cheers me up is the fact that Grejor seems to have made a conscious effort to avoid Lita around the time of the Prince's spell. That tells me that he was afraid she would see the changes in his aura and wonder why." "In any case, I've got to be ready to pounce on Grejor as soon as he finishes testifying for the prosecution," Tarnor said. "I don't want to give him another opportunity to disappear." "Oh, he won't disappear, Jourdain will make sure of that," Scully said. "He has already assigned three or four men to do nothing but keep track of Grejor's whereabouts, just as soon as he surfaces." "Tarnor, you said you have more evidence than you expected. But is it enough?" Mulder asked. "You know your legal system, we don't. Do you have enough to save Reinald's life?" The gargoyle shrugged. "I don't know. It's always difficult trying to predict how the noble houses and other factions will vote. Even if it were up to the more impartial non-human species, it would be very close indeed. I'm hoping that Grejor will confess. Maybe seeing Baalmas ready to testify or having Lita testify to the aural changes will make him see the futility of his position. That's what I'm hoping - not necessarily what I'm expecting." "Is there anything more we can do?" "Just be there, though you can miss the first part. As with all of our other traditions and customs, there's a long ritual before anything happens, and then a judge is chosen. The judge is mostly a ceremonial position, but it wouldn't hurt to have someone chosen who is either on our side or is impartial. If we can get the right judge, it would help tremendously." Tarnor smiled at them. "For a change, we're in a good position there - as Defender Royal, I get to make the first nomination for judge. Drellor will probably try to refute it and make his own nomination. It's my job to come up with someone who Drellor can't refute without looking bad. Which is how I'm going to spend the rest of the night." He rose from the table, gathering his parchment documents in his hand, and moved to the door. "We'll be there, Tarnor. Good night." They closed the door behind him. "How do you think- " Scully began. Mulder stopped her with his lips. After a minute or so, he murmured, "Not another word. We've worked hard since very early this morning. We can't do anything more right now. The rest of tonight is for us. Agreed?" Scully smiled. "Agreed." =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part Two A At dawn, the castle came alive. The day was cold and windy, but the sun made an appearance which was all too rare these days. The smoke from the cooking fires hung in the air, and the clank of armor rang out, as soldiers were arrayed in full battle dress, and everyone else dressed in the traditional garments of their occupation or station in life. Shortly after breakfast, there was a general thronging to the Great Hall. The Great Hall was an enormous room, now used little except for coronations and other major ceremonies. It was almost three hundred feet in both length and width, with lofty vaulted ceilings. Huge dark wooden beams, painted with intricate designs, crossed the ceiling, and the walls were hung with tapestries and with banners representing the major religious groups, the non-human species and the noble houses, past and present. In the very center of the room were three large chairs, set facing each other in a triangle. Surrounding them were three concentric rings of smaller chairs, about 50 in all. The inner ring would be taken by witnesses and the Prosecutor and Defender Royal, and the outer two rings by the Council Representatives. The rest of the room contained stands, taken from storage and set up in the past few days by the castle workmen, where most of the spectators were even now taking their places. It was still early morning when the stands were filled to the breaking point. Outside, the trumpets and bagpipes swirled their fanfares, a different one to honor each of the Council Representatives, as they and their retainers took their place in the procession to enter the Great Hall. The crowd watched in awed silence, not privy to such a display since the coronation of their late king a generation ago. To trumpet and drum beat, the procession made its way from the gigantic doors, down the aisle, and filling the seats that had been set aside for them. The order was strictly followed. First, the heads of the major religious groups were seated. Then came the human clans, with the most ancient of clans taking place of honor, followed by the next most ancient, and so on. Unfortunately, this meant that often seatmates were fierce rivals, and a certain amount of pushing and shoving was going on. Last came the Representatives of the non- human species, conducting themselves with considerably more decorum. Next, the witnesses filed in, led by Drellor and Tarnor. Mulder and Scully had decided to attend the entire trial and took their places in line, Mulder dressed in his Mage cloak, and Scully in her warrior green leather with a brown hood to denote her unique dual status. They were near the beginning of the line, following Jourdain and Aldara. Grejor, who had finally resurfaced and was looking about him anxiously, was somewhere near the middle. Some witnesses were missing from the procession by design, such as Lita and Baalmas. Tarnor had decided to appear weak and defenseless to Drellor at first, and then spring the witnesses on him, hoping to catch the Prosecutor Royal by surprise. Finally, Reinald was led in by a guard, to a mixed reaction from the crowd. Some hooted and called for his head, others were quite touching in the support that they shouted from the stands. As, the accused Mage took one of the three central chairs, the crowd quieted. Drellor and Tarnor remained standing. They started chanting in sing-song voices in a language that Mulder and Scully did not understand. Scully looked questioningly at Aldara. "This is an ancient form of our language, reserved for important ceremonies," she whispered. "I don't understand more than a few words of it myself, and most people don't know it at all." Scully nodded her thanks. After a while, she began to realize why Tarnor had advised that they skip the first part of the trial. The chanting seemed to go on for hours, sometimes taken up by some of the nobles. Occasionally, she could discern chants in other languages, and her puzzled look brought answers from Aldara, that the languages were the original tongues of the Elves, Trolls and Gargoyles, who now all spoke the one major language of the Realm. She looked over at Mulder, who generally had a very low tolerance for ceremony. He looked as if he were giving it his closest attention, but a quick look into his mind proved otherwise. Scully didn't understand much of what was going on in there, but it appeared he and Reinald were in communication, applying themselves to finding a way to reverse the Prince's spell. Scully left Mulder's mind as unobtrusively as she could. She turned her attention to Aldara and Jourdain, sitting more closely together than necessitated by the arrangement of the chairs. He seemed a little less haunted by the spectre of the trial, and she had a softer, less guarded look. Scully cured her boredom by speculating on the cause for the change in her friends, until finally the chanting stopped. Drellor sat down and Tarnor took a sip of water. Then he announced, "As dictated by our laws and our traditions, I claim my right to name a judge." He bowed deeply to Drellor and to Reinald. In a more conversational tone, indicating a part of the ceremony that wasn't scripted, he said, "I have put much thought into my choice for judge. I wanted someone impartial, someone who commands respect, who is held in the highest esteem by both his own people and others as well. I realize I am breaking with tradition slightly in my choice, for he is a non- human. I ask for approval to name Prince Mavor judge in this matter." Tarnor sat down to the buzzing of the spectators and shouts of rage by some of the nobles. Drellor stayed seated, his mind trying to catch up with this unexpected turn of events. He had assumed that Tarnor would ask Mulder to be judge, and he had prepared all his arguments against Tarnor's choice based on that assumption. Prince Mavor! What was Tarnor up to? Prince Mavor would indeed be impartial, and was respected, and was of royal blood - elf blood to be sure, but still royal. Drellor knew he risked a revolt of the hot-tempered elves if he tried to refute Tarnor's choice. He looked at his little gargoyle rival with a mixture of dislike and new-found respect. He rose. "The Prosecutor Royal can find no good reason why Prince Mavor should not be named judge of these proceedings if it is his wish to so serve." Then Prince Mavor stood and said in his low musical voice, "I am honored and choose to serve." He made his way from his seat with the non-human representatives to the second large chair in the center of the concentric circles and sat down. The chanting began again, this time with Prince Mavor joining in. It lasted a comparatively short time. Then at a signal from Drellor, the witnesses and Representatives filed out of the Great Hall, in search of food and drink to sustain them through the afternoon proceedings. Outside the Great Hall, Mulder and Scully caught up with Tarnor. "Looks like you surprised Drellor with your choice," said Mulder. Tarnor smiled. "A little espionage on my part, I'm afraid. Well, it's not my fault that Drellor has a chatty servant who is not particularly enamored of his master. My servant found out from his servant that Drellor thought I was going to name you as judge." Seeing Mulder's expression of concern, he chuckled. "Don't worry, you were never in any danger. But I was of two minds. I wanted Mavor, but I really didn't want to remove Drellor's false sense of security quite so soon. He may be watching us more closely now than I would prefer. But, it couldn't be helped." "Well, I can't tell you how happy I am that Drellor was wrong," Mulder said with a grin. "I've never pictured myself as a judge." Just then, the elegant Prince Mavor joined the group. Tarnor quickly performed the introductions. Mavor looked at Mulder and Scully, looked away, then looked again, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare, but, by the gods, this is incredible. A Mage, a Warrior Healer, bonded - by the gods, bonded! - and newly validated!" Mulder stifled a laugh as Scully's mind pictured a huge billboard nailed to the wall of the Keep which listed the most intimate details of their lives. Mavor turned to Tarnor. "Do you realize what this means?" Tarnor nodded. "Yes, Your Highness." "You are the prophesied ones...the Mage bonded to the Warrior Healer. I had heard rumors, of course, but I didn't really believe them. A bonded Mage...incredible!" Prince Mavor moved off to join his courtiers, looking back over his shoulder occasionally as if to assure himself that Mulder and Scully did, in fact, exist. "Isn't it a problem for the Prince to be both judge and possible defense witness?" Scully asked. Tarnor looked at her blankly. "No, why should that be a problem?" Scully shrugged. "No reason, I guess." Tarnor bade them farewell and scurried off to attend to some business. Mulder and Scully spotted Jourdain and Aldara and hurried to catch up with them. The four decided to stop in at the tavern for refreshments. While Mulder and Jourdain were ordering, Scully pulled Aldara through the crowded tavern to an empty table in a dark corner. "Okay, so what happened?" inquired Scully. "I know something happened, so don't try to deny it." Aldara blushed, laughing. "You must be a very good investigator in your world. Or does it show that much?" Scully smiled. "Maybe only to people who know you as well as I do. I'm just really glad you're happy." "Very happy," said Aldara. "Jourdain was wonderful - so caring and sweet." She sighed contentedly, thoughts of the previous night bringing a blush to her cheek once again, then she giggled. "I think I shocked him." Scully laughed. "I'm not going to ask." The women looked up to notice their lovers approaching, and deftly changed the subject. When the men arrived, Aldara and Scully were deep in a conversation about the linguistic changes that had occurred in the long history of the Realm. They moved over on the benches to make room for Mulder and Jourdain, who carried bread, cheese, beer and for Mulder, tea. Jourdain's mood, too seemed lighter. He was extremely pleased by the choice of judge, and by Drellor's confusion. "I had almost begun to regret all those times I insulted Drellor and slammed doors in his face," he said. "I know he was reveling in the idea that I would have to execute Reinald. It will be wonderful to disappoint him." "You certainly sound much more optimistic," observed Scully. "Well, Tarnor selecting Mavor as judge was a masterstroke," he said. "Mavor is very highly thought of. His opinion will influence many of the Representatives. Except the House of Dordinal - they're known to be species bigots - and they weren't likely to side with Reinald in any case, so we haven't lost anything." Jourdain shrugged. "I don't know, I just feel like we might have a chance, that things have turned around and are going to go the way I want them to go." Scully smiled into her beer mug. "What happens this afternoon?" "The prosecution presents its case," Aldara said. "It may run over to tomorrow morning, which would be in our favor, though Drellor may not know that. Grejor will probably be the last prosecution witness, because his testimony will have the most impact. We don't want him to have the opportunity to disappear, so we'd like Grejor to testify tomorrow morning, and Tarnor can follow up immediately." Jourdain grunted. "I have four of my best men keeping an eye on him, but I still don't trust the little rat." He noticed a parade of people headed for the Great Hall and downed the rest of his beer. "We'd better get back." Jourdain and Aldara rose and went out. Mulder caught Scully's arm for a few seconds so they lagged behind their friends. "I know I can contact your mind any time, but I prefer actual talking - most of the time, anyway," Mulder said with a knowing look. "What's going on with Jourdain and Aldara?" "What do you think?" grinned Scully. Mulder smiled back. "The old devil. Good for them. They seem happy." "Don't get carried away by all the romance, Mulder. Let's go back to the Great Hall." There was no procession this time. Everyone found his seat or his place in the stands. When they were filled, Drellor stood. "We are here to bring a terrible criminal to justice. Someone who took advantage of the trust of a small child. Someone who broke a sacred covenant with our Realm. Someone whose arrogance and quest for power led him to commit a horrible crime. I speak of Reinald, Regent of the Realm. Long has he pretended affection for my beloved nephew Prince Andalor, all the while plotting against him, against the Realm, and against the order of succession ordained by our laws and traditions." Drellor hung his head dramatically. "I am so glad my beloved brother King Barnos is dead. If he had lived to see the day when his cherished child was turned to stone to further the ambitions of an unscrupulous, power-hungry Mage - well, I shudder to think." Drellor shuddered for his audience. Scully didn't know whether to be amused or disgusted by the show Drellor was putting on. The man did not know the meaning of the word subtlety. She touched Mulder's mind to find that he felt the same. In fact, he had reached his saturation point for Drellor's rhetoric, and was in the process of "tuning out" again so he could re-establish contact with Reinald and put his time to good use. Scully kept her eyes on Drellor, but most of her mind was with Mulder and Reinald in their quest to find a way to remove the spell from the young prince. It was just as well Scully kept herself occupied, because Drellor held the floor for almost two hours, expostulating on the evil of Mages in general and Reinald in particular, and on the trusting innocence of Prince Andalor. Tarnor rejoiced with every minute that Drellor extended his oration. It was becoming a certainty that Grejor would not reach the stand until the next morning. Also, it appeared that the length of Drellor's speech, after the long, stultifying ceremony of the morning, might be antagonizing some of the undecided votes among the Representatives. Finally Drellor stopped talking and started calling witnesses. He called a long series of character witnesses, mostly from noble houses and factions which had long been aligned with Drellor and against Reinald. Each witness took the third of the large central chairs and parroted essentially the same testimony, often repeating verbatim what other witnesses had said, that Reinald had abused his position and his powers and had committed treason against the Realm. Although none of the witnesses spoke for very long, there were so many of them that the sun had long since set before the last of them had testified. Finally, Prince Mavor called a halt to the proceedings for the night. "But sir, we have not yet finished presenting our case," babbled Drellor. "I have another witness who must testify, our most important witness." "Prosecutor Royal, you should have thought of that before," declared Mavor. "In any event, a witness so important should be heard when we are fresh. We will stop now and reconvene in the morning." His expression did not invite argument or discussion. "Yes, sir," said Drellor, deflated. Mulder and Scully got up, stretched and started walking back to their chamber. "This inactivity is killing me," groaned Mulder. "I'm going to change and go for a run on the battlements. Want to come?" "No thanks, too cold for me. I can unwind in a nice hot tub." She shivered as a cold, wet wind roared through the courtyard, and Mulder drew her closer to him. "How are you and Reinald coming on something to reverse the Prince's spell?" "We thought of something today, actually. Reinald has been deprived of his books of spells since being arrested, but I committed them to memory and have been a kind of "living book" for Reinald since he regained consciousness. There's a couple of things we're working on. Of course, Reinald has to beat the rap first." "I know, I've been thinking about that. And so has Prince Mavor, by the way," Scully said. "He has very high levels of psi ability, and I was standing quite close to him. I didn't mean to eavesdrop in his mind, but I couldn't help but notice that he has correctly put two and two together. If Reinald is executed, then the Realm is doomed, because there won't be two powerful- enough Mages to combined their powers to defeat the Dark forces. I was wrong before when I thought there were four lives at stake here - everyone's life is at stake, including ours. Mavor understands that. I think that will work in our favor, too." They came at last to their chamber, lit by the fireplace and a couple of flickering torches. Steam rose from the hot water in the big copper tub, and the tea kettle was on the fire. "Need help washing your back, Scully?" "I thought you were going for a run." "You were right, it's pretty cold out. I'll figure out another way to get some exercise." His smile was deceptively innocent. - - - - - The following morning was stormy, with wind-driven sleet making little pinging sounds as it struck armor and shields. The witnesses and Council Representatives did not bother with a procession and fanfares, merely entering the Great Hall with all due speed in an attempt to get warm. When everyone was in place, Drellor called Grejor to the stand. "State your name, birthplace and station, then tell the assembly what you know of Reinald and his crime." "My name is Grejor. I came originally from the village of Cattle Ford in the southern part of the Realm. I am a Mage Apprentice under Mage Reinald and have held that post for seven seasons." Three small cloaked and hooded figures quietly entered the Great Hall and began making their way down the central aisle. Grejor stared at them, distracted. Drellor noticed Grejor's hesitation and impatiently prodded him. "Yes, yes, go on. Tell us of Reinald's crimes." "Well, uhh...many's the time Reinald told me that Andalor was a thorn in his side. That being Regent was a thankless job. That as long as he was going to have to do the job of running the kingdom, he should have the power and title and respect to go along with it." Grejor hesitated once again, as he noticed one of the cloaked figures incline its head toward Tarnor to speak, and Tarnor apparently listening with interest, nodding several times. "Grejor, please pay attention," Drellor demanded. "Your testimony is important." "Yes. I'm sorry...uhhh, where was I ?" "You were telling us how Reinald wasn't satisfied with being Regent," Drellor said through clenched teeth., barely holding on to his temper. "Yes, right." Grejor's attention was still held by the three cloaked figures. He watched them, mesmerized, like a rodent would watch a huge, coiled serpent. "AND..." prompted a furious Drellor. "And - and he - I saw him practicing a spell, many times, using small objects like bottles at first and then living things like birds and cats." Grejor stopped. Visibly trembling now, he swallowed nervously as the cloaked figure spoke again to Tarnor. Drellor smiled, oblivious to the cause of Grejor's discomfiture. "And what happened when Reinald would cast this spell, Grejor? Tell the assembly." He indicated the gathered representatives with a dramatic sweep of his arm. Grejor stared at Tarnor and the three figures. Who the hell were they, and why were they talking to Tarnor? What were they saying about him? "Grejor! Tell the assembly what would happen!" Drellor shouted. "uhhh...uuhhh...the objects would turn to stone," Grejor said in a rush, beads of sweat now standing out on his brow. Prince Mavor stared at Grejor, disgusted, but said nothing. Most of the assembled crowd began to call again for Reinald's head, but many of the elves and the magically sensitive looked on in consternation and began to shake their heads and talk among themselves. Drellor had planned on getting into more detail, but the manner in which Grejor was giving his evidence was not at all as they had rehearsed. He decided to quit while he was ahead. "The witness may go," he said airily, and Grejor was out of his seat in a heartbeat. Tarnor leapt up. "I have a few questions I would like to ask Grejor." Prince Mavor nodded and motioned Grejor back to the witness chair. Grejor looked hunted, trapped. He looked around for any possible alternative to returning to that chair, and saw none. Guards were everywhere. That fool Drellor had promised that this would not happen, had said that once he had told his story for Drellor that he would be free to go back into safe-hiding until it was all over. Grejor shot a look of hatred at Drellor, and returned to the witness chair. Drellor almost stood to argue against Tarnor's request, but looking at Mavor's face thought better of the action, and stayed seated and silent. "Tell us how you came to be Reinald's apprentice," began Tarnor. Grejor relaxed very slightly. "I applied for the post when it came open." "Were you accepted immediately? "I don't know what you mean," Grejor said guardedly. "Well, what I mean is, did Reinald recognize your vast store of Mage energy from your aura, did you dazzle him with your prowess, something like that?" Grejor flushed angrily. "You know very well that wasn't the case, Tarnor. You were there." Tarnor nodded. "Yes, I was but all these other people were not. Please tell the assembly the circumstances of your being chosen." "I don't see what this has to do with anything," growled Grejor. "Nor do I," said Drellor in a stage whisper. Several of his noble cronies snickered. Prince Mavor looked over at Grejor. "Answer the question." He stared at Tarnor with hot, furious eyes. "Reinald couldn't read my aura. He brought in some scullery maid to read it. Between them, they decided my powers were "marginal", but Reinald accepted me anyway." Tarnor walked up to Grejor. "Did you get along well with Reinald?" "He was all right," said Grejor sullenly. "Wasn't he a hero to you, at least until recently?" "All right, that's true," admitted Grejor. "I worked myself into exhaustion for that man, I worked harder than any apprentice he had ever had." "Well, what happened to change your mind?" "It was the black magic, the spells he was practicing. I didn't want to get into any of that stuff. And the way he was talking about Prince Andalor. I had no idea that's who he was going to use the spell on - if I did I would have reported it to someone," Grejor declared. The crowd buzzed, Mavor frowned, and Drellor gloated. The fool Tarnor was making Drellor's case for him. The end should come soon now. "Did you not complain numerous times of the length of time your training was taking?", inquired Tarnor. "I might have. The old man was always picking on me. Nothing I ever did was good enough, everything had to be just so. Even after I learned something, he'd go over it again and again, picking my performance apart, repeating things until I thought I'd go crazy. Sometimes I thought he was delaying my training on purpose." "How long does an apprentice usually spend with a Mage?" "Maybe eight seasons." "You said you had spent seven seasons with Reinald. Does that mean you were about to leave him, that you had almost completed your studies?" Grejor glowered. "No. I had completed barely half my training." "Did you blame Reinald for that?" "I worked hard. He was always against me, he never appreciated me. Sure, I blame him." Tarnor was quiet for a few seconds, glancing back at the three hooded figures and consulting a parchment before him. "You are a Mage Apprentice, so you must know something about auras, am I right?" "A damn sight more than Reinald," declared Grejor, with bravado. Some of the Dordinal nobles laughed. Tarnor just nodded. "I know. Auras were always Reinald's weakness, weren't they? What happens to a person's aura when that person lies or tries to conceal something? Grejor?" The witness merely stared at him, deathly pale, perspiration rolling down his face, in spite of the chilly temperatures. Drellor shot to his feet. His witness was coming apart. Grejor had said something about auras when they had rehearsed his testimony, but he hadn't been able to follow it. "Prince Mavor," he blustered. "You can't allow this kind of question. Magic spells are not allowed in obtaining evidence, and an aura is like a magic spell." Mavor looked at Drellor with distaste. "There is nothing magical about auras. They simply exist, as your hand exists. The fact that some species are unable to see them does not make them supernatural. Now sit down." "Answer the question, Grejor!" Tarnor said in a harsh voice. "Isn't it true that auras undergo characteristic changes when someone tries to hide something?" "An old wives' tale!" babbled Grejor, terrified Tarnor turned and nodded. Suddenly, one of the cloaked figures pulled off her hood. Grejor started as if he had received a jolt of lightning. Lita! He had been afraid of just this situation. He had tried to tell Drellor, but the fool had no idea about auras. - - - - - =============================================== Chapter Ten - Part Two B "Do you want to change your answer?" Tarnor sneered. Grejor was silent and looked at the witness section with hatred. "You are familiar with Lita, here, aren't you Grejor? Lita is an acknowledged expert on auras. She read your aura once before, didn't she? It's not an old wives' tale, it's a well known fact. I think all the elves in the assembly will agree with me that auras do indeed change with lies and concealment, am I right?" A chorus of "Ayes" came from the elves in the stands and the elven Council Representatives. Prince Mavor solemnly nodded his head. "And I think you will also agree that you have noticed these changes happening to Grejor's aura as he sat here and gave evidence against Reinald. I plan to ask both Lita and Prince Mavor to take the witness chair to testify concerning the changes they saw - two acknowledged experts who will tell you of the lies that Grejor has told today against the man that befriended him." Tarnor strode up to the witness and looked him in the eyes. "When did you start to hate Reinald, Grejor? Don't bother to lie, that will just be something else that Lita and Prince Mavor will have to testify to." Grejor merely returned a look of total hatred. "Didn't you start to hate him when Mage Mulder came, and Reinald started working with him and had no time for your training anymore?" Tarnor charged. "No answer. All right, how about this one? When did you start to plot against Reinald? When did you seek out those who practice the Black Arts, to try to find a way to get back at Reinald for ignoring you?" Grejor began to shout, "I never - ". Suddenly, his eyes stared in horror as a second hooded figure stood. Baalmas swept back his hood and looked directly at Grejor. The third cloaked figure sat still. "NOOOO!" screamed Grejor. "Drellor, you fool! I told you about my aura, but you wouldn't listen! No, you said go ahead and lie anyway, that everyone would believe me. You said they'd never be able to trace that spell, and now they have. You fool, you stupid conceited fool!" Suddenly Grejor bent down and pulled a long dagger from his boot and leapt to the side of Reinald's chair, holding the knife to the Mage's throat. Madness glinted in his eyes. Jourdain started to rise from his seat, but Mulder caught his wrist in a grip of iron, never taking his eyes from Grejor and Reinald. "All right. Lita knows about my aura and Baalmas will tell of my seeking a black magician to supply a spell. Zoalstra, there, will tell of the spell she made up for me. Do you want to know why I did it? I treated Reinald like a king, like a hero, and he humiliated me every chance he got. He wanted me to fail. He treated me like an idiot, a moron. And then Mulder came. Wonderful, perfect Mulder who had everything that I didn't have - unlimited powers, a life-bondmate who never even noticed my existence, all Reinald's respect and attention. And it got worse." Grejor laughed bitterly. "I couldn't believe Reinald could treat me any worse, but he did. After all my work, I was fit only for sweeping up all the bottles that Mulder broke because he couldn't do the simplest levitation spell. I wish I had just killed you, Reinald. And I won't get the chance now, will I?" He looked at Mulder with loathing. "Because Mulder's cast a shielding spell for you, hasn't he? I can feel the resistance against my knife blade. Damn you, Mulder! You're not a Mage, you're a witch! You can't even be poisoned!" Grejor reached across and grabbed Prince Mavor. He giggled insanely. "Here's one you haven't shielded, Mulder. Too bad I can't reach your little bondmate." He turned once again to Reinald. "But I know a better way to get you, Reinald! I put the spell on your precious little Prince Andalor; only I can take it off. Well, Andalor is going to stay the way he is - forever!" Grejor shoved Mavor to the floor and took a step backwards. Before anyone could move, with a flash of his dagger, he slashed his own throat from ear to ear. He dropped to the ground, gurgling and twitching horribly, then was still and silent as his blood ran out on the stone floor. Pandemonium broke out. While spectators shouted and screamed, Jourdain and Scully moved to Grejor's side, Scully only able to confirm that Grejor was beyond a healer's help. Jourdain assisted Prince Mavor to his chair, and then collared Drellor and summoned two guards to take charge of the shaking little man. Mulder crossed to Reinald's side, and put a comforting hand on the Mage's shoulder. Prince Mavor looked at Jourdain, who yelled "Quiet" at the top of his lungs. After several shouts, the throng finally settled down. Prince Mavor rose. "These events are unprecedented. Our traditions do not dictate to us how to deal with this situation. Obviously, Reinald is innocent; the guilty party has confessed and is dead. I am ordering the arrest of Drellor on the charge of conspiracy. Do I hear any objections?" Two or three of Drellor's noble lackeys called out "Aye" but they were the only ones. Drellor was taken away by the guards, to the catcalls of the spectators. Then Mavor declared, "For the record, I call a vote to determine Reinald's verdict. Who believes Reinald has been proved innocent?" There were affirmative shouts from nearly all the Representatives. "Guilty?" Incredibly, there were a couple of Dordinal nobles who shouted "Aye." They were roundly jeered by the spectators and the other Representatives. "Reinald is released and this Council is dismissed. Because of the events which have transpired, we will forego the closing ceremony." Prince Mavor sank into his chair, emotionally exhausted, as spectators and Representatives alike moved in a cacophonous animated tidal wave for the exits. - - - - - Back in Reinald's chambers, the five friends huddled around the fire drinking tea, as they had a scant week ago when this nightmare had first begun. "I just want to congratulate Tarnor," declared Jourdain. "He did a wonderful job." Tarnor shook his head. "We have Mulder and Scully to thank for the most part. Without the evidence that they uncovered, I wouldn't have had anything. The aura idea was brilliant, and finding Baalmas put the final nail in Grejor's coffin." "Literally, unfortunately," Reinald sighed. "I wish I had paid more attention. The boy couldn't help that he just didn't have strong enough powers. And I did ignore him shamefully the past several weeks." Mulder shook his head. "I, too, wish I had paid more attention, but for a different reason. When I was studying for my doctorate in psychology, we studied cases like Grejor. Scully, I'm sure you did too." Scully nodded. "Reinald," Mulder continued, "You never would have been able to give Grejor all the time and attention he thought he needed. He was shifting the blame for his lack of success away from his shortage of talent, which he couldn't accept, and on to your lack of attention and appreciation, which he could. I blame myself because I should have spotted Grejor's pathology and anticipated a problem. Besides, Reinald, we've been working to try to save the Realm. It may sound harsh, but I think that had to take precedence over one person's bent psyche." The language spell had a few problems, but the company understood most of what Mulder was trying to say. "One thing I don't understand," said Aldara. "If Zoalstra was dead, who was the third hooded figure?" Tarnor smiled. "I recruited Drellor's gargoyle servant, who was only too happy to help us against Drellor. I never intended to have him take his hood off. I just hoped that Grejor would assume what he obviously did - that Zoalstra was alive and ready to testify against him. If Grejor had been thinking straight, he would have known that there was no way anyone could have trusted Zoalstra in the witness chair, as crazy as she was." There was a knock on the door. Jourdain walked over and opened it to admit Corvay. The little elf was handed a mug of tea and shown to a seat. "I hate to be the voice of doom," began Scully, "But this is really only the tip of the iceberg. I mean, Reinald, I'm totally delighted you're free and it's a wonderful and necessary first step. But it's only that - a first step. The biggest battles lie ahead of us - ridding the Prince of his spell and especially, defeating the Dark Realm." Mulder caressed her hand, and her mind. "Reinald and I have a possible solution to the Prince's spell. We're not sure it will work. Since we don't have anything around that is under the same spell as the Prince, we can't test our little remedy. And we don't want to make things worse than they are right now. We wanted to consult with all of you. We need to weigh the benefits against the risks." Mulder looked around at all of them. "I'm aware that this will all be guesswork, hopefully educated guesswork. Corvay - your thoughts?" The little elf looked at everyone with bright, knowing eyes. "I am of the opinion that the longer the Prince stays in his current state, the harder it will be to both remove him from that state, and return him to health if he is removed from that state. There's no telling when, if ever, you could come up with a better plan. I think if you have a plan, put it into action now." "I don't know if anyone cares what I think," Aldara ventured, "But I'd be inclined to wait. And not for the reason you think. I'm sure that Reinald and Mulder will take all due care, and may even successfully bring the child back. But think about Wide River. Do we want to bring the child back to face an end like that? Our future is so unsure right now. Is it fair to bring him back only to suffer the fate of those poor people in Wide River?" The group was quiet for some time. "Admittedly, I hadn't thought of that," Reinald said. "I love the child, and the gods know I would not want him exposed to that. But he is also the Prince, the head of the Realm. As such, he has certain responsibilities, and he both knows and accepts that fact. His return to normal would have a very positive effect on the morale of our soldiers and on all the people of the Realm who need to be ready to sacrifice all they have to defeat the Realm's enemies. For that reason alone, the sooner we bring him back the better." He turned to Aldara. "I don't mean to sound hard and uncaring, my dear. Unfortunately, I must think not only as someone who loves Andalor, but also as Regent of this part of the Realm, and sometimes that must take precedence." Scully looked uncomfortable. "I can't help but think the Prince is in there, sentient, unable to move or communicate. Maybe it's because of a past personal experience of mine, only tiny fragments of memories - " Scully voice became choked and she shuddered. Immediately she felt Mulder in her mind, caressing and soothing, supporting and comforting. She communicated gratitude, and cleared her throat. "Anyway, if what I feel is true, we have to bring him back, as quickly as possible, before he has lasting effects from the experience that even Corvay can't heal." "I must say, too," Corvay piped up, "If Scully feels that way, there is a much better than average chance that she is correct. Her psi ability is much higher than that of anyone I know, and she may be able to sense the Prince's presence." Reinald took a deep breath. "Then, if no one has anything else to say, I think we need to come to a decision. Although I acknowledge the possible deleterious effects, I believe we have no other choice than to try to restore the Prince. Anyone opposed?" One by one they shook their heads, some firmly, some hesitatingly. Reinald nodded approvingly. "I took the liberty of discussing this possible course of action with the heads of the noble houses, the priests and with the non-human representatives. As expected, the nobles could not agree on anything but not agreeing, and the priests and Prince Mavor and the troll and gargoyle representatives were very supportive, regardless of the outcome. Are you ready, Mulder?" Solemnly, Mulder nodded. Scully suddenly felt very anxious. She knew all too well Mulder's overblown sense of responsibility. If this didn't work, he would find it very hard to ever forgive himself, especially where a child was involved. There was already so much that wasn't his fault that he felt guilty for, the last thing she wanted to see was something else on that list. Her mind sent a constant stream of love and support and trust to his. She saw a flicker of recognition and appreciation on his face, then he turned to her and smiled. They all went into Reinald's bedchamber where the Prince stood as he had since the previous week, his stone feet encased in a broken block of stone that had once been clear, spring water. Reinald lit eight candles and placed them at precise positions around the Prince. Mulder took a small stone dish of water, floated a fresh flower blossom in it, and placed it at the Prince's feet. The Mages then took up positions on either side of the Prince and spread their arms wide. Closing their eyes, they started chanting, and blue and white Mage-energy began snapping from their finger tips. The energy and power increased, until both Mages were shaking with the effort to control it. The cadence of the chant picked up, as did the volume. Suddenly, the Mages joined their hands, encircling the Prince in a finely woven screen of blue and white. They were now almost yelling the chant to be heard over the crackling of the power cage they had created. Finally, with a hoarse scream, they pulled their hands apart and collapsed on the floor. Between their prostrate bodies were eight candles, burned down to the holders, a dish with a stone flower, a puddle of muddy water, and a pale and shaky little boy. - - - - - The next hour was a busy one for everyone. Corvay took charge of Andalor, scooping the child up and placing him in Reinald's huge bed. He sat next to the child, holding his hand, reaching deep inside the child as a healer, assessing the damage done by the spell, starting the healing process. Scully looked at them anxiously - the child was very, very pale, and had not spoken a word. She went to the fire and put a pot of restorative on to warm. Then she helped the Mages to a sitting position and held the potion to their lips, assisting them to drink. Meanwhile, Aldara and Jourdain went to deliver the good news to the Council Representatives who had not yet departed for home, and had it announced from the battlements to the joyous cries of the crowd gathered below. The five gathered again by Reinald's fire an hour or so later. The Mages were exhausted, but satisfied that their spell had worked. But they all awaited the word of Corvay, who was still in with the Prince. Scully left the fire to check on Corvay, as she had every five minutes for the last half hour. This time she was gone longer, and emerged from the bedchamber supporting a weak and trembling Healer. Jourdain bolted from his chair and carried the little elf to a seat at the fireside, and Scully help him drink some restorative. It was several minutes before he had recovered the strength to talk. At last he sighed and sat up a bit straighter. "It was as Scully felt - the Prince was aware throughout the ordeal. He is not yet well. Several sessions will be needed to heal him completely, but he can be healed. Reinald - your speaking to him and reassuring him right after it happened made a huge difference to his state. Had you not done that, I may not have been able to restore him to health. Likewise, Aldara and Jourdain -" everyone looked at them, and they looked at each other, in surprise - "your visits to him when Reinald was imprisoned helped him to maintain a link with this world. Again, I'm not sure whether his mind would have survived without them. It will take a few days, and there may be a few lingering effects - nightmares and so on - but he will be well again. Don't leave him alone for a while. No excitement. Limit visitors to just ourselves, and a few of the Council Representatives, as necessary for matters of state, who can be trusted to behave themselves. Now, I must sleep. Jourdain, may I ask you for some help?" Jourdain lifted the old elf in his arms as he would a child. Aldara opened the door for them, and the three left for Corvay's quarters. Scully helped to pull Mulder to his feet. "Is there anything else you need, Reinald?" she asked. The Mage shook his head and smiled. "What more could I possibly ask for? I have my life, and my freedom, and Andalor. I don't want to make the gods envious - an old Realm expression, Scully. Take your bondmate back to your quarters. We've all done good work and it has been an exhausting day. When Corvay gives the word, there will be a day of celebration for the delivery of the Prince from this spell. The people need something to celebrate - the gods know there hasn't been much lately. Goodnight." Scully smiled at the Mage. "Goodnight, Reinald." She guided Mulder through the door and back to their chamber. She helped to get him undressed and into bed. For tonight, she assumed the nighttime duties he normally saw to, extinguishing all but one of the torches, stoking the fire, and bringing him a cup of tea. She lay quietly beside him, both of them too exhausted by the events of the day to speak. When he fell asleep, she eased the tea cup from his hand. Sliding out of bed, she put the cup on the table and put out the last torch. Then she crawled up beside him and lay in the shelter of his arms for the remainder of the night. - - - - - The party was in full swing three days later. Andalor scampered in and out of knots of people, acting very much as a normal eight year old boy at a party. They were all in their finest clothes, and the affair was made all the more glamorous by the many Council Representatives who had stayed on at Fairwood Keep to celebrate. An unseasonable warm turn in the weather allowed much of the party to take place in the courtyard. There were musicians and dancing and food hoarded for a special occasion was presented on long tables. Nobles mixed with common folk in a celebration that touched all the people in the Realm. Unnoticed was a small, bloody figure, half staggering, half dragging himself toward the sounds of merriment. As had happened so often in the last three days, he fell heavily, only to find the strength from his dwindling reserves to pull himself up again, leaving bloodstains on the ground where he had fallen. Aldara stood at a little distance, watching the revelers, Jourdain amongst them. He was rarely lighthearted these days, and it was good to see for a change. She saw Scully, looking radiant in a golden gown, floating on Mulder's arm in time to the music, the two of them as handsome and graceful a couple as she had ever seen. At present, Aldara was engaged in one of her favorite private pastimes - watching the sun go down behind the battlements. Not normally a contemplative person, she used this one time of the day for talking to herself and to the gods. She looked out over the shadows caused by the setting sun, the interplay of dark and light - and saw something move. The delicate, feminine partygoer was gone and the warrior surfaced. Drawing the knife from its sheath strapped to her leg, she followed the walls for cover as much as possible, her sharp eyes on the source of her concern. When she got to within a hundred feet, she recognized the huddled shape as Fossia, an elf who maintained a watchpost near the Vortex. "Help, we need help here! Healers!" She ran to the elf, who had again fallen. She lifted his head. "Stay quiet, help's coming." Within seconds, Jourdain, Corvay, Mulder and Scully were at her side, lifting the injured elf and carrying him to a bench made softer by the donation of cloaks from concerned onlookers. The Healer tried to establish contact. Fossia shook off Corvay impatiently, showing some typical elf temper with the last of his energy. "No, Healer, not yet. I did not drag myself all this way...to be put into a healing trance now. Jourdain! I must tell you...the Vortex...Hunters and Destroyers, pouring in...thousands amassing...our doom." The little elf finally surrendered to unconciousness and Corvay grabbed his hand to establish contact and start the healing trance. Jourdain looked at Aldara gravely. "Gather the Representatives for a special meeting. I'll find Reinald. It's started in earnest." Mulder looked at Scully, with concern and regret and sorrow in his eyes. "Party's over." End of Chapter 10 ===========================================================================