Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-One
 

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

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

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

*       *

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

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

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

*       *

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

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

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

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

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

"It is being attacked."

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

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

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

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

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

*       *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*       *

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

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

*       *

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

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

*       *

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

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

*     *     *     *

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

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

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

"Changed your mind, have you?"

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

"By the Goddess, I --"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Everything's fine," Andalor said quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

curving his lips.

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

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

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

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

End of Chapter Twenty-One
 

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-Two
 

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

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

*       *       *

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

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

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

*       *

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

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

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

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

*       *

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

powerless to remove him.

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

*       *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Margul struck him down before he could rise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*     *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*      *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

clothes.

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

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

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

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

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

End of Chapter Twenty-Two
 

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 

Chapter Twenty Three

Scene Two
 
 

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

"Excited. Thrilled. Nervous...."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"B-but our traditions!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*     *      *     *
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And where is she now?" Ghalbar demanded.

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

End of Chapter Twenty-Three
 
 
 

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 

Chapter Twenty Four

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

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

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

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

than necessary."

General sounds of approval swept the room at this statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was given assurances," Darliss whined.

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

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

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

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

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

A profound silence gripped the chamber.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I see...."

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

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

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

"What can you do?" Margul asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of Chapter Twenty Four
 
 

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 

Chapter Twenty-Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mulder? Is that you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Probably not until you came, Mage Mulder."

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

"So what's the second thing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I will, Mulder. And thank you."

The colors in the crystal dimmed.

*     *      *      *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mage Charla."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of Chapter Twenty-Five
 
 

THE MAGICIAN 3.5 - THE FIREBRAND

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00

Chapter Twenty-Six
 

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

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

"B-but, Master...."
 

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

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

"B-but Master. The tea-- "

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

Pitir fled.

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

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

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

your time." She turned to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Outside, storm clouds extinguished the sun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

now I would dearly love to!"

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

"As if you could!"

"By the Goddess!" Reinald roared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ask her!"
"Ask him!"

The Mages continued to glare at each other, seething.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*      *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*      *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There is no doubt?" he asked finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

path."

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

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

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

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

"Ah! Mage Mulder, I assume."

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

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

"Much worse."

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

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

End of Chapter Twenty-Six
 
 

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

Disclaimers and acknowledgements in Chapter 00
 

Chapter Twenty Seven
 
 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hold!" Margul cried. His shout stopped Ghalbar from carrying out the
needed slash on his other hand. "Find Healer Marik and send him to
attend Ghalbar's wound," Margul said to one of the pages who stood
respectfully near the door. "When you have found him," he snapped,
stopping the teenager in his tracks, "find the High Priestess and tell
her that the oaths t