===============================================
From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "Magician"ch7/Pr1 (13/31)
Date: 31 May 1995 01:12:32 GMT
The Magician
An X-File Story by
Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com)
Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX
Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the
property of the authors. All comments are welcome.
Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files
fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into
the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your
disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy!
Chapter Seven - Part One
Mulder watched Scully as she tightened the girth in her
saddle. She was dressed in a green leather tunic and brown
leggings, her small feet encased in knee-high leather boots of the
same forest green as her tunic. Her hair, which had grown a few
inches over the past several weeks was braided and coiled into a
fiery knot on the crown of her head. Her sword hung down the
length of her back, its strap stretched tight between her breasts.
She looked calm and confident, almost as though she were
preparing to investigate a crime back home. Trade the tunic for a
dark blue suitcoat, the sword for a gun, and she could have been
back in the office.
The problem was that they weren't at home. Heaven
only knew what would be facing them at the end of the long two-
day ride to the East. From what little Mulder remembered from
his mind-link with Bradnor, this could be far worse than anything
they had faced before. He wished there was a way to keep her
from going, but he also knew better than to even suggest the idea
to her. She'd be furious, and selfish though it seemed to him, he
needed her - wanted her - by his side. Quite simply, there was no
one in this, or any universe, whom he trusted to watch his back
the way he trusted Scully.
"Almost ready, Scully?" he forced himself to ask calmly,
as though they were about to take a walk in the park.
At the sound of his voice, she turned to look up at him.
He was dressed in a dark brown version of the ever-present tunic,
over a white shirt, black leggings, and black leather boots. His
sword was dangling precipitously from his left hand, its leather
guard scraping the dusty floor. His eyes were bright with
excitement, and a very familiar concern. She knew full well he
was worried about bringing her into this, but was grateful he had
enough respect for her to leave it unspoken.
"Yes," she answered. "Just need to finish packing my
saddlebags. Better not let Aldara catch you treating that with
such disrespect," she pointed at the wayward weapon.
Mulder sighed and nodded, lifting it up to slide the strap
over his shoulder. "It feels funny on my back, I can't help thinking
that I'm going to stab myself in the butt." Scully laughed,
reaching out to readjust the strap against his chest.
"It won't if you wear it in the right position," she chided
with a grin.
- - - - -
Partially hidden by the supply horse he was loading on
the other side of the barn, Grejor watched them with a sullen,
bitter expression. His angry eyes focused on Scully's smiling face,
he piled one too many bag on top of the horse, and the small
bundle toppled off the other side of the restless animal. With an
exaggerated sigh, the unhappy apprentice walked around the
horse to pick it, only to find Drellor handing it out to him with a
friendly smile.
"Hello Mage-Apprentice Grejor," the roly-poly
councilor said, "You must be sorry to see them go. I'm sure you
learned a lot from the foreign mage."
"Yeah, sure," Grejor replied unconvincingly, grabbing
the bundle from Drellor and turning to try again to load it on the
horse's back.
"Well, at least you'll be able to get back to your studies.
You must be close to earning your Mage's blue by now." Grejor
chatted easily, his eyes carefully reading every nuance of the
young man's expression.
"Sure, soon enough." Grejor's voice was shakily
optimistic, but the set line of his mouth belied the relaxed tone.
"Reinald has just been a little busy lately."
"Why, of course!" Drellor responded as though he had
just made an important discovery. "What with the sudden visit by
his foreign friends, and his responsibilities as Regent, he must be
quite busy." He shook his head, the rolls of fat under his chin
wiggling. "It must be hard for you to compete with the young
Prince for Reinald's time. It's too bad for you, though. You'd
think he'd plan more carefully to give you the time you need. It is
his responsibility."
Grejor peered at Drellor suspiciously, but was met only
with warm concern. Suddenly all the resentment and jealousy that
had been slowly building in him burst out. He poured it all out,
how Reinald had completely forgotten him in favor of Mulder,
relegating Grejor to fetching and carrying. How Mulder and
Scully were 'together' yet he was expected to spend his life alone
studying. How his chance at earning the mage's blue had been
postponed, perhaps by months, while Reinald trained a fool like
Mulder who hadn't even known how to build his own shield; how
Reinald would spend hours with the Prince, but had no time for
his own apprentice; how...
Throughout the young man's tirade, Drellor kept
bobbing his head in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. The
only evidence of his delight was the sparkle in small round eyes.
Behind the paternal exterior, his clever mind was racing,
examining every possible use of this situation. If he played his
cards just right, the resentful student-mage could prove to be
very useful to his plans. Very useful, indeed.
- - - - -
Finally packed and as fully prepared as they felt they
would ever be, Mulder and Scully led their horses out of the barn
to join Jourdain, Aldara and the remainder of the small company.
Grejor led the two pack horses after them, surrendering the
burdened animals over to one of the heavily-armed soldiers.
Tarnor was already astride his smaller pony, its long white tail
and mane waving in the breeze. Mulder winced slightly at the
sight of his welcoming grin. As much as he liked and trusted the
little gargoyle, those sharp, jagged teeth caused an instinctive
recoil from the taller human.
"Ready to go?" Jourdain walked over beside them,
giving them a quick once over. They appeared to be prepared,
though Mulder's sword was still a bit cockeyed, and Scully
looked tiny and frail next to large horse. But their faces were
calm and serious, their stances tense and controlled.
"Yes," Mulder and Scully both nodded.
"Good." Jourdain replied, angling around to give his
soldiers a quick hand signal indicating they should mount their
horses. Then he looked back at the two foreigners. "Aldara will
be leading," he instructed. "She knows the area better than
anyone. I'll be in the rear. Scully, you stay close to Aldara, and
Mulder, you'd better stay in the middle with Tarnor. It's nearly a
full days ride to Horse's Run Inn. We'll stop briefly at noon to
eat, spend the night at the Inn, then it should be close to another
day's ride to Wide River." Jourdain gave them one more look-
over, then grimaced. No use putting this off any longer.
"Let's go." He returned to his horse, taking the reins
from Aldara, then leaped into the saddle in one fluid, practiced
motion. Mulder gave Scully a hand up into her saddle, then
started to clamber up into his.
"Wait, Mulder!" Reinald came running up behind them,
his long blue robe flying out behind him, white hair nearly
standing on end.
"I was beginning to think you weren't going to come see
us off," Mulder said with a teasing lilt in his voice.
Reinald smiled as he came up beside the tall dark man.
"I almost forgot something important," he replied holding out a
large dark-blue bundle of cloth to Mulder. "You better wear
this."
"What is it?" Mulder questioned, taking the woolen
garment and spreading it out over his arms.
"A mage-robe like mine. Actually, you should have been
wearing one already, but since you were in training, and everyone
in the castle knew you were a foreigner, I thought you could
manage without one. However, beyond the Fairwood grounds
you should wear this at all times. It is both a symbol and a
warning, a mark of both authority and responsibility. The white
lining signifies your allegiance to the light, the depth of the blue
the strength of your power." Reinald sighed unhappily.
"Normally, the robe is conferred with an elaborate ceremony. I
do not like having to just hand it to you like this, but we do not
have the time to spare."
"That's okay," Mulder replied, shrugging his shoulders.
The cloak felt warm and soft against the skin of hands. "I never
cared much for ceremonies." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It'll
make a great blanket if we get stuck on the road."
"Mulder!" Reinald protested, then shook his head. No
use arguing with his protégé's irreverent humor. He knew just
how serious Mulder could be when he felt the situation warranted
it, so let him enjoy himself now. There were likely to be few
reasons for mirth in the upcoming days.
Several of the other observers weren't quite so
accepting, their expression ranging from Aldara's look of surprise
to Grejor's sullen resentment. Scully just sighed, Mulder had a
gift for being annoyingly disrespectful of protocol, no matter
where or when.
"Put it on, Mulder. We need to get going," Scully urged,
impatient to get on the road, already dreading the long ride
ahead.
"Okay." Mulder yanked the sword off his shoulders,
handing it out to Reinald. He arranged the cloak over his
shoulders, then fumbled for a way to fasten it.
"Here," Reinald said, giving Mulder back his weapon
and reaching up to find a small button on the inside of the collar.
After Reinald had finished adjusting the cloak, Mulder put the
sword back on over, with a silent grimace for Scully, then turned
to contemplate getting on the horse, cloak, sword and all. "This
looks so much easier in the movies," he grumbled.
The only one who could make sense of the reference,
Scully laughed. "You're the magician. Levitate yourself."
Mulder flashed her a brilliant smile, as he accepted the
light challenge in her voice. "All right." Closing his eyes, he
concentrated for a moment, his brow crinkling into a familiar set
of lines. Ever so slowly, he rose up into the air, then turned
sideways and settled himself smoothly down into the saddle. He
would have completed the levitation perfectly, if he hadn't
misjudged the reaction of the horse to having someone float in
the air above it. Snorting, it pulled to the side just enough to have
Mulder hit its back at angle, sliding off to his left. Yelling his
annoyance, Mulder grabbed for the horse's mane and only barely
kept himself from tumbling to the ground. The horse reared up,
then down, as its would-be rider clung on for dear life. Finally
managing to pull himself into an upright position, Mulder glared
at Scully, as everyone else tried to stifle their laughter.
"Good try, Mulder," she said, unable to keep the
amusement out of her voice.
"Yeah right. Next time I'll levitate you!" he threatened,
still trying to adjust himself into a comfortable position.
"No thanks" she replied with a sweet smile, nudging her
horse forward to pull up beside Aldara. Mulder playfully stuck
out his tongue at her back, then couldn't help relaxing into a grin
and joining in the general amusement, even if it was at his
expense.
As Jourdain gave the signal to go, Reinald grabbed onto
Mulder's leg. Mulder leaned down to hear the mage's whispered
words. "I'm sorry we don't have more time to prepare you for
this. Remember to center and watch your shield." Reinald's blue
eyes clouded with worry. "And be careful!"
Mulder's eyes darkened as he nodded. "I will."
- - - - -
It was a perfect day for a ride, Scully had to admit as
she guided her horse in an easy trot beside Aldara. Only a few
whisps of white cotton floated in a perfect blue sky. The air was
warm with a slight cooling breeze, and the road was lined with
the vivid colors of the forest: the green and brown of the trees
and the bright rainbow colors of the flowers. She drew in a deep
breath of clear, untainted air and smiled with pleasure.
Aldara caught her companion's smile and returned it
briefly. Then her face settled into a frown.
"What is it?" Scully asked concerned. Aldara considered
for a moment, then angled her head back toward Mulder who
was chatting easily with Tarnor and one of the soldiers, the velvet
warmth of his laugh echoing in the air. "I don't understand him.
He doesn't act like a Mage, he doesn't act like anyone I've ever
met." Her emerald eyes were wide with confusion. Scully
couldn't help laughing, which only increased Aldara's perplexity.
"I'm sorry, Aldara," Scully said. "It's just that Mulder..."
she turned her head to glance back at her partner. "Mulder never
acts like anyone else. He's utterly and completely unique. I know
him better than anyone, and he still manages to surprise me."
The taciturn half-elf considered that for moment, then
grinned at her friend. "That must make for an interesting life."
"Yeah," Scully responded, "Sometimes a little too
interesting." They shared a look of total understanding, then
focused back on the road ahead, riding comfortably side-by-side.
- - - - -
By the time they rode into the Inn courtyard, everyone
was exhausted, dusty and hungry. Mulder and Scully were both
uncomfortably aware that a couple of hours a day of riding
practice had not fully prepared them for the rigors of spending an
entire day in the saddle. Scully's back and legs ached intensely,
every position she'd tried in the last couple of hours as painful as
the others. Mulder was equally sore, the muscles in his thighs
complaining fiercely. He was dreading trying to get down and
walk. Aldara caught both their looks of discomfort and shared an
amused glance with Jourdain. Good thing she'd brought some
lotion with her, those two were going to need it.
The clatter of the horse's hooves on the gravel brought a
couple of young boys, both with shoulder-length blond hair,
brown eyes, and elven pointed ears. Excited, they ran forward to
take the reins from Aldara and Scully, leading the horses into the
nearby stable. Mulder gratefully handed over his horse to the
young soldier he'd been talking with on their ride and wandered
over to the women, grunting as he rubbed at his sore back.
Jourdain let his four men take the rest of the horses into
the barn and headed for the inn. He was met at the doorway by
the innkeeper, a larger version of the boys: short but well-
muscled. The older elf was dressed in a bright mix of colors,
bright red pants under a red, green, blue, and yellow vest and a
white shirt. Around his belly he wore a big leather belt with a
large set of keys and two big pouches hanging down his side.
Forced to peer up at the much taller Jourdain, the elf eyed him
with a mixture of greed and suspicion. Soldiers and mercenaries
were good-spenders, but they also tended to be trouble.
"What can we do for you this fine evening?" the
innkeeper asked politely.
"We'll need food, and rooms for the night. And fodder
for the horses." Jourdain thought for a moment. The four guards
could bunk together, as would Mulder and Scully. He and Tarnor
could share a room, which left Aldara ... well, better make that
four rooms total. "Four rooms. And baths for the ladies."
The innkeeper's eyes widened slightly as he did some
rapid math in his head. "Twelve silvers, and six iron pieces," he
said, his eyes glinting with avarice.
Jourdain frowned, bargaining was not one of his favorite
past-times, but even he knew that he was being royally over-
charged. "Six silvers and three iron pieces," he replied, deciding
to begin by slicing the price in half.
The innkeeper puffed up angrily. "You insult me, sir!
Why one of our rooms is worth more than that per night. And
this is a busy time of the year. I was giving you a good deal,
because things are quiet right now. And you repay my courtesy
by trying to cheat me! No, I will not take one less than ten silvers
and five irons."
Jourdain shook his head. "Eight silvers and four irons.
Not a bit more."
"You are nothing but a highway robber!" responded the
innkeeper. "How am I supposed to feed my family when you
cheat me like this. My poor children..." The innkeeper went off in
a tirade, hands flying a series of elaborate gestures, while an
annoyed Jourdain stood impatiently, tapping his right foot against
the step.
Across the lawn, Aldara couldn't help giggling at the
irritated frown on the Captain's face. "What's going on?" Scully
asked, rubbing her hands through her hair, pasting it back into a
semblance of the neat braid she had started out with that
morning.
"Jourdain hates to bargain." Aldara shook her head, the
cloud of black hair framing her face waving down her back with
the motion. "Guess someone better go help. He'll either give in
and pay too much, or lose his temper and hit the innkeeper."
"That wouldn't be good," Scully replied wearily. "Right
now, though, I'd give about anything for a bath."
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, me too. There ought to be a
way to speed this up." He glanced back towards the inn, his head
tilting slightly to the side.
'Uh oh.,' Sculy thought, as Mulder glanced at her with a
familiar glint in his hazel eyes. Brushing more of the dust off his
robe, he headed purposefully towards the men arguing in front of
the inn doors.
Thinking he was just following her suggestion, Aldara
stepped in behind him, turning her head in surprise as Scully
caught her elbow. "What?"
"I don't know," the red-haired woman grimaced and
gestured towards the man striding across the yard. "He's up to
something. I know that look in his eyes."
"Up to what?" Aldara asked with concern. Scully
shrugged. "Just be prepared."
Jourdain was about ready to punch the innkeeper, when
an imperious voice sounded from the bottom of the steps.
"Is there a problem, Captain?" Jourdain turned, his eyes
dilating with astonishment. Standing at the foot of the steps,
Mulder was looking up at them, his face calm and expectant.
Despite the dust of travel, and the inevitably-crooked sword, he
appeared every inch the powerful Mage. His eyes were dark and
hooded, his finely-drawn features carved in stone. The dark blue
of his mage-robe seemed to shimmer in the evening air. Sliding
up the stairs as though his feet were almost floating, he paused
beside Jourdain and looked down at the innkeeper. "I assume you
have rooms available for my friends and myself."
"Uhh, yes..." The innkeeper stammered, his already pale
skin turning white. "We were just deciding on the price,
honorable Magician."
Jourdain held his smile, saying calmly, "I believe we
were just settling on six silvers and five irons as a fair price." The
trembling elf automatically opened his mouth to argue, then shut
it when he saw blue sparks fly from the tall mage's fingers as he
absentmindedly brushed his hand though his dark hair.
"Yes, yes, six and five it is. Come, come," the small elf
confirmed, backing away nervously towards the door. Throwing
one more unhappy glance over his shoulder at Mulder, who gave
him another commanding stare, he hurried inside, calling out a
rapid series of instructions.
Still outside, Mulder and Jourdain exchanged looks of
amusement. "Thank you," Jourdain said as he reached for the
door. "Elves have refined the process of bargaining to a fine art,
and not even they can compete with innkeepers. Combine the
two and...well, normally you end up wasting a good candlemark
or two arguing price, and if you give in too soon, they get huffy
and annoyed." Waving Mulder into the inn ahead of him,
Jourdain added. "Maybe I should bring a Mage along more
often."
Mulder grinned, then reassuming his professional
composure, he swept into the inn's darkened interior. Jourdain
held the door for Scully and Aldara, who had both been listening
to the conversation with increasing enjoyment, then followed
them inside.
The inn's central room reminded Mulder and Scully of
an old-fashioned bar. One wall was lined by a long, low counter
with rows of bottles on shelves behind it. Wooden, circular tables
were spotted throughout the room. Some were set low to the
floors, others were elevated with large wooden stools. In the
corner a large stone fireplace provided most of the light, with
small streams of the fading sunlight brushing the gloom below a
few small windows.
A tiny, but matronly elf wearing a bright yellow dress
and striped red and green apron burst out from behind the
counter. "Come in, come in," she urged in a friendly, high-pitched
voice. Her eyes widened as she stared up at Mulder who towered
over her in his still-glowing blue robe. She sank into a deep bow,
then smiled hesitantly. "This way Sir Magician, this way. We
have the best room in the house for you, just up the stairs. It has
a nice window, and plenty of space. My boys will unload your
horses and bring your things upstairs, while you rest from your
long journey. Yina, my daughter, is already heating water for
your bath." She bobbed her head again, glancing up at him with
wide brown eyes. "Please, follow me."
Exhausted, Mulder was more than willing to take her up
on the offer. He held back long enough to let Scully and Aldara
proceed him, then followed the women up the stairs. Their
hostess was more than a little surprised when it became obvious
that the small red-haired soldier was rooming with the mage,
while the other two guards were taking other rooms. Mulder
avoided her questions by giving her an intense stare. One look at
his set, determined face, and she backed off, her hand crumpling
the corner of her apron in distress. Making a magician unhappy
could have dire consequences.
Once the door was closed, Mulder crossed the room and
settled down on the bed with a sigh. "God, Scully, what I
wouldn't give for a car right now. Anything, even an ancient rusty
Oldsmobile, just as long as it ran on wheels and not four legs."
Scully flopped down on the bed next to him, rubbing at
the small of her back. "Yeah, me too. FBI training didn't include
spending ten hours straight on top of a horse. Wake me in about
a week."
Mulder grinned and leaned over, propping his head on
one hand. "Sure. That means I get the first bath."
Scully's eyes popped wide open. "Oh no it doesn't."
Groaning slightly, she forced herself into a sitting position.
"Ladies first!" He opened his mouth, about to give her the nearly
irresistible reply, but one look at her pale, drawn face convinced
him that silence was the better part of valor. He settled for
leaning back in the bed, closing his eyes, and dreaming about a
nice, shiny Ford truck with air-conditioning and four wheel drive.
- - - - -
===========================================================================
From: jennyann@ix.netcom.com (Jennifer Lyon)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative
Subject: "Magician" ch7/pr2 PG13 (15/31)
Date: 31 May 1995 01:17:08 GMT
The Magician
An X-File Story by
Jennifer Lyon (Jenni10647@aol.com) and
Suzanne Bickerstaffe (Ecksphile@aol.com)
Disclaimer: The X-Files, and the characters of Fox Mulder and
Dana Scully, and all rights thereto, are the property of FOX
Broadcasting Network. The remainder of this story is the
property of the authors. All comments are welcome.
Authors' note: This story is a small departure from most X-Files
fanfiction. At its heart, it is a fantasy, a slightly deeper trip into
the 'realm' of make-believe. Sit back, relax, suspend your
disbelief, and let us tell you a tale. Enjoy!
Chapter Seven - Part Two (PG-13) This is the PG-13 version of
this chapter. the NC-17 version was in the previous post. You
need read only one of the two. Your choice!
After a short nap and a bath, everyone was feeling
better. Dinner was surprisingly good, a hearty stew with sweet
brown bread and a thick foamy ale. Jourdain, Aldara, Scully and
Mulder were sitting at one round table, the four guards seated
around a neighboring one. Tarnor had accepted a platter of raw
meat and bread from one of the waitresses and retired upstairs.
Thinking that she would very soon follow the gargoyle's example,
Scully sipped at the ale gingerly, while Mulder eyed it
appreciatively, then chugged down half the contents of his mug.
"Better watch it, Mulder," Scully said, her lips curving
up as she watched him lick at the foam on his upper lip.
"Tomorrow is going to bad enough without a hangover."
"One glass of beer is hardly going to make me drunk,"
he protested with a grin.
"How do know it's 'beer?'" Scully asked. "We have no
idea what the alcohol content it, or even whether it is alcoholic."
"No, it's got alcohol, or something nearly as good."
Mulder smiled as the warmth spread outward from his stomach,
easing some of the remaining pain in his lower back. Aldara's
magic lotion had been a godsend, but nothing beat a cold glass of
beer.
"Obviously," Scully replied, arching an eyebrow at him
in censure, though her blue eyes twinkled.
"Still," Jourdain interrupted between mouthfuls. "Better
take it easy on that stuff. We ride at dawn, and I expect you two
to be ready to go on time." Mulder and Scully both grimaced, but
nodded. Even over a relaxing dinner, it was not easy to forget the
seriousness of their mission.
"When do you think we'll get to Wide River?" Mulder
asked Aldara, breaking off another piece of bread.
"If we get on the road at sunrise," she replied. "We
should get there by mid afternoon if all goes well." They sat in
silence for a moment, each considering what the might have to
face the next day.
At a table closer to the door a small group of traveling
mercenaries were busily getting drunk. All five men were dressed
in dirty green wool and leather outfits, swords slung over their
shoulder or propped against their stools. Several had knives
through their black rawhide belts. All had long hair, bound back
into tight ponytails on the tops of their heads, and several sported
jagged scars across their faces, arms, and necks. As the waitress
passed by, one of the men, with a white-lined scar across his right
cheek, grabbed her, pulling her down into his lap.
"Let me go," she cried angrily, jabbing him in the
stomach with her elbow and leaping away nimbly. He gasped for
breath as his compatriots roared with laughter, jeering at him.
Once he had recovered his breath, he sat for a few minutes,
eyeing the pretty blond elf in her yellow and brown dress as she
wended her way over to Mulder and Scully's table with a pitcher
of ale. A few more drinks down his throat combined with some
rude comments from the other men, and he was at a fever pitch
of anger and desire.
The next time she passed by, he leapt up to seize her
from behind, pulling both her wrists behind her and shoving her
face down on the table. Immediately, his friends started banging
their ale glasses on the table, cheering him on with raucous
laughter. She screamed and wiggled, trying to kick him, but he
was twice as big as she was. Her scream died out into a muffled
moan of disgust as he yanked her head back by her long hair,
kissing her hard as he rubbed his body over hers.
"Take your hands off her," the innkeeper raced over to
his daughter's defense. "Back off," the scarred mercenary
growled, knocking the elf down with one hard punch. One of the
other men yelled out, "Hey Vidar, hurry up. My turn next."
That was the final straw as far as Mulder was
concerned. Unwilling to leave things to Jourdain and his men,
who had already started across the room, Mulder pushed his way
past them and seized the would-be rapist by the arm, yanking him
backwards. The big mercenary responding by tossing the girl
towards one of his friends, who caught and held her struggling
body gleefully. Then he pulled his arm out of Mulder's grasp and
swung at him. Mulder was faster though, ducking underneath,
then spinning to kick the large man in the gut. He staggered
against the table, then with a berserk roar of anger, threw himself
onto his taller, but far more slender, adversary.
As Mulder and the enraged mercenary fought, Jourdain
pulled the screaming waitress away from the man pawing her,
and pushed her away. She ran crying for the kitchen. Robbed of
his prey, the second mercenary jumped on Jourdain, and
pandemonium broke loose. Aldara and Scully managed to get the
innkeeper out of the way, before leaping into the fight
themselves. Aldara nearly took one mercenary's head off with her
sword before catching herself and rendering him unconscious
with the heavy hilt, while Scully jumped on another's back,
clawing at his eyes. He bellowed and spun, finally throwing his
smaller attacker up into the air. Twisting as she flew, she
managed to bring her feet underneath her to land in a crouch on
top of a table. Her red-hair flying around her face, her blue eyes
were blazing as she pulled a knife out of her boot and brandished
it at the mercenary who approached her with a growing smile on
his rough face.
"Now, now, pretty wrench. How about you put down
the knife so we can have us some fun!" he urged, reaching out
towards her. Scully simply stared at him, waiting until he got just
close enough, then she struck. "Oowww!" he cried as she sliced
his cheek with the knife, then leapt out of the way of his hand.
With dawning respect, he faced her, pulling out a knife of his
own.
Behind them, Mulder was still rolling on the floor,
struggling with his bulkier opponent. The two men hit at each
other's vulnerable areas with knees and gouging hands. Finally
delivering a punch into the mercenary's throat that knocked him
briefly senseless, Mulder was finally able to scramble to his feet.
One quick glance around at the war being fought across the room
convinced him that he'd better stop this before someone got
killed. While it was still more instinctive to react physically than
magically, Mulder hadn't been studying for so long without
learning a few useful spells.
Centering and grounding almost by rote, he tuned down
his shield and began to focus on creating a spell that would freeze
the combatants in place, stopping any further violence in its
tracks. However, Mulder was still slow in utilizing his new
talents, and before he could finish the spell, the mercenary got up
to his feet and struck Mulder hard in the stomach. The
inexperienced mage yelled in pain, his unfinished spell exploding
in a loud thunderclap around him, sending the mercenary spinning
upwards to float in mid-air, his body enclosed in a deep blue
cloud.
Instant frozen silence descended upon the room, as
Mulder stared upwards in shock at the terrified man writhing
inside the blue envelope above his head. Quick to take advantage
of the situation, Jourdain shoved his wide-mouthed adversary
aside and strode over to Mulder's side.
"My gratitude to you, Magician, for your timely
assistance," he said in a ringing voice. "My deepest apologies for
subjecting you to this kind of uncouth brawl. If you wish to retire
at this point, Mage Mulder, I'm sure my guards and I can take it
from here. These men have had enough for tonight, isn't that so?"
He looked pointedly from the one still suspended in mid-air to the
others. Shaken, they all nodded, suddenly noticing the color of
Mulder's robe for the first time. One swallowed nervously,
seemingly shrinking into the floor. Another turned deathly pale
and fell to his knees to vomit between his legs.
At a glance from Jourdain, his men grabbed the four still
earth-bound mercenaries and propelled them up the stairs to their
room. Scully and Aldara breathed a sigh of relief, checking to see
if each other was all right, then walked over to stand beside
Jourdain and Mulder.
"Get him down, Mulder. We should probably call it a
night," Scully suggested wearily, returning the knife to her boot,
extremely grateful that she'd bothered to wear it as Aldara had
recommended.
"I can't," Mulder replied unhappily. Three shocked pairs
of eyes turned to stare at him.
"What do you mean, you can't?" Jourdain questioned.
"I didn't mean to do this. I was just going to blast the
ceiling with a few fireworks to catch people's attention - stop the
fighting. But he hit me before I could finish the spell, and it just
exploded. I don't know what happened and I haven't the faintest
idea how to reverse it." Mulder shook his head sadly, spreading
his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I think it ought to wear
off in a few hours, but I'm not sure."
"Mulder! Didn't Reinald teach you how to turn that stuff
off?" Scully protested.
"Sure," he replied, "but the method of undoing a spell is
directly related to the spell itself, and this one got scrambled.
Trying to undo it the wrong way could just make it worse."
Scully looked annoyed for a moment, then the corners
of her mouth uplifted in a smile. Aldara frowned at her, then up
at the man floating above their heads, and then found herself
smiling also. "Well, I guess he'll just have to sleep it off," she
said.
They all started to laugh.
- - - - -
Another long day on horseback, this one spent mostly in
grim silence. The closer they got to their destination, the more
they dreaded what they were going to find. But not even their
worst imaginings could have prepared them for the devastation
that awaited them.
Aldara led them in single file up the road to Wide River.
Even before they drew into sight of the town itself, they could
see smoke wavering up towards the late afternoon sun. The air
carried a stench that built in their quivering nostrils until it was
nearly unbearable. It was a combination of rotting flesh, burnt
meat, and something unidentifiably evil. Mulder rubbed at his
nose, thinking that even the New Jersey sewers hadn't smelled
this bad.
They came across the first set of bodies - or what
remained of the bodies - as they turned a curve in the road and
saw the shattered town gates a short distance ahead. Coming to
an abrupt halt, Scully slid down off her horse to kneel down
beside one twitching body. The man's face was a wreck, one arm
had been torn off, his legs were ripped to shreds. Large bite had
been taking from his chest and abdomen, and his intestines boiled
out of his belly, with crawling flies buzzing into the cavity. As
Scully bent down over him, he twitched again, his mouth opening
in a silent cry.
"Oh my God!" she yelled back at the others crowding
behind her, all color leached out of her face. "He's still alive!"
A shout from one of the guards indicated that another
ravaged man was still alive also. Mulder and Jourdain exchanged
agonized glances, then turned to Scully.
"Is there anything you can do for them?" Jourdain
asked.
"I..." Scully felt tears sting her eyes as she contemplated
injuries that even a modern hospital would be hard put to deal
with. She shook her head, even with surgical facilities, antibiotics,
and a team of doctors, she doubted this man could be saved. The
sound of the young guard vomiting into the ashy dust of the road
not far away, confirmed that the other's injuries were probably as
serious. "I doubt it. I don't have the skills, or the equipment. I
don't think even Corvay could heal this."
At the sound of her voice, the dying man found one last
bit if strength and reached out to grasp her arm. She recoiled in
shock, but was already being hit by his pain. Doubling over in
excruciating agony she screamed and screamed.
"Scully!" Mulder yelled, leaping to the ground to pull
her away. Sobbing, she clung to him, burying her head against his
shoulder. He held her for a long moment, until her shaking
decreased. Tilting her head up to face him with gentle fingers
under her chin, he didn't bother speaking, just let his eyes ask for
him.
"I'm okay, Mulder. I'm okay." She brushed the strands
of auburn hair out of her eyes, then glanced back at the man in
the dirt. "He...he wants me to kill him." Mulder nodded, still
holding her tight against him. He brushed the top of her head
with his mouth, then let her go and stood up.
"I'll do it," he said grimly, his mouth set in thin line.
"No!" Scully's eyes were moist but determined. "He
asked me. I felt his pain, Mulder. I have to release him myself."
"Scully," Mulder protested, but her face was darkly
certain. "Are you sure?" he spoke softly.
"Yes," she swallowed and met his dark eyes with a
confidence she didn't feel. "I have to."
"Okay," he replied accepting her right to make that
decision. "Jourdain and I will check the others." The big captain
tapped Mulder on the shoulder in agreement, then walked past
them towards the gate. As he brushed past Aldara he angled his
head towards Scully. "Look after her," he whispered. She nodded
barely perceptibly, and went over to stand by Scully as the
grieving doctor knelt down, tears now streaming openly down
her whitened cheeks, and prepared to do the hardest thing she'd
ever had to do in her life.
Jourdain and Mulder worked their way closer to the
smoldering, broken town gates, examining one bloody, fractured
corpse after another. To their bitter relief, only two others of the
close to three dozen bodies were still alive. With gritted teeth,
and fury in their eyes, they each chose a dying man. In silent
agreement, the two men drew their swords and in one clean
blow, severed both necks simultaneously.
Scully used her mind rather than her sword to give the
dying man the peace he deserved. Carefully, she reached into the
base of his skull with her mind and severed the nerves one by
one, so that he would feel no more pain from his body while she
tightened a mental fist on the blood vessels bringing oxygen to
the brain. She felt his relief as paralysis ended the agony, and his
gratitude as he slipped into unconsciousness and death. She felt
every sensation he did, until he was no longer there, leaving her
bent sobbing over an empty shell that had once been a human
being.
Aldara reached out to hold her friend from behind,
wrapping thin, strong arms surrounding her. Scully struggled to
get free, then collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion, pain,
frustration, sadness, and above all, a deep burning rage. Her eyes
glowed with blue fire as she turned to glare into Aldara's
sorrowful green eyes, while her voice was cold, clear and steady.
"Someone is going to pay for this."
- - - - -
It took the small company nearly three hours to work
their way methodically through the ravaged village. No structure
had been left untouched, even stone walls were crushed or
scorched. Bodies, or pieces of them, lay flung throughout; no
more were found alive. In the marketplace, broken pieces of
pottery lay side by side with crushed melons and severed arms,
legs, and heads. Bread turned stale next to trails of human
intestines, spilled stew mixed with gargoyle and elven blood.
Working in grim silence, they gathered up every human,
elf, gargoyle and troll remnant they could find, making four gory
piles in the town center. Once they were certain they'd retrieved
as much as they could, nine weary and horrified people gathered
together to share their grief and rage; to give the dead some
overdue respect.
Jourdain stumbled through a short prayer, his voice
rising and falling from an angry cry to a hoarse whisper. Aldara
reached out to grasp his hand as he came to a stop in mid-
sentence, unable to find the words to continue. She pulled him
back, then glanced over towards Mulder.
"Give them a funeral pyre the entire Realm will see and
remember, Mage," she said, each word clipped and precise.
Mulder stepped forward, waving the others back.
Closing his eyes, he began to concentrate, mumbling sing-song
words under his breath. As his body began to glow a brilliant
shimmering blue, he raised his hands and pointed. Flashes of
lightning struck out of a clear blue sky, each striking one of the
mounds causing them to burst into flames. Blue sparks lanced out
of Mulder's outstretched fingers, mingling with the white light
from the sky and the red of the fires. Four rainbow columns rose
vertically, illuminating the darkening sky.
One more shouted command from Mulder's glowing
form and the flames exploded upwards, forcing the observers to
shield their eyes. Another series of thunderclap-like explosions
deafened their ears followed by sudden silence. Scully and the
others slowly unshielded their eyes to find four perfect blackened
circles of ground where there the bloody piles of flesh had been -
and Mulder kneeling between them, his head buried in his arms.
- - - - -
Fox Mulder sat on a tree-stump a few feet away from
the rest of the camp. Since no one had been able to stomach the
idea of remaining in the village, even though there was no sign of
the Destroyers, they had led the horses down the river into the
woods. Walking in silence, they continued past nightfall,
continued until the stench of Wide River was cleared from the
air. The camp had been set in a small grove of elms, each member
of the troop doing his part without uttering a word. Dinner had
been prepared and forced down, all knowing the sustenance was
necessary, each nearly choking on every bite. Two of the guards
were keeping a nervous watch, while the others settled into small
tents, pretending to sleep. Mulder hadn't even bothered with the
attempt. Instead he had slipped off into the night like a shadow.
"Mulder?" Scully came up quietly behind him, pressing a
hand onto his shoulder. He shrugged it away, moving swiftly to
his feet and taking a couple steps away from her.
"Mulder!" she said again, a very slight tremble in her
voice. He was silent for one long moment, but just before she
started to speak again, he pivoted to face her.
In the moonlight, his eyes were dark cavities, the
arching lines of his cheekbone stretched tight and hard, his jaw
jutted forward. His voice was icy cold. "All this power, Scully."
Lifting his hand he threw a sphere of blue light up into the air,
which fragmented into a rain of glittering sparks at a wave of his
arm. "Yet all I can do are parlor tricks."
"Mulder, you can do more than parlor tricks. You know
that!" She fought for the right words, not even certain what it
was she wanted to say. "You were the one who took this
seriously. I kept telling myself it wasn't real, that it was a
daydream that I'd wake up from like it never happened. If things
had gone my way, we wouldn't even be here. I don't know if we
can help these people the way the Prophecy says, I only know
that we have to try." She reached out to touch his arm,
restraining him as he tried again to pull away.
"How can such things exist Scully?," he spoke abruptly.
"I thought I'd looked into the face of evil before: serial killers,
vampires and werewolves, men who experiment on children...
But this?" He laughed bitterly. "Yet, I can't help wondering why I
am surprised. You know what my first thought was, Scully, when
we walked through those gates? I felt like a WWII American
soldier walking into a Nazi concentration camp. In an odd sort of
way, things make more sense here: evil wears its own face. In our
world evil sometimes wears a pleasant disguise."
"Evil wears the same face everywhere, Mulder,
sometimes you just have to look harder to see it. It feels hopeless
right now, I know. But we've beaten it before, we just have to
hold onto the belief that we can do so again." She knew she was
driven more by rage than confidence, but the battle lines had been
drawn. After what they'd seen that day, there was simply no
walking away.
"I wish I could be sure of that," he replied.
"There are no assurances, but we still have to try." She
closed the distance between them, and looked up into his
shadowed eyes. "Together."
"Scully...Dana..." he brushed the hair back from her
face, caressing her cheek gently.
"I'm here" she answered softly, closing her hand over his
and pressing the palm against her lips. Their eyes met and clung,
the world around them dissolving as he finally let the mental
barriers down and drew her in.
For a timeless instant they stood together, minds
entwined, bodies separated by a few inches of cloth and air.
Then, groaning aloud, he roughly pulled her up against him and
claimed her mouth in a demanding kiss. Blood pounding through
her veins, she reached up to twine her arms around his neck,
returning the kiss pasionately.
"Dana," he murmured her name over and over, in a
silky, yet raspy voice, edged with desire. The sound of it in her
ear, his breath hot against her skin, made her heart race even
faster. Finally letting themselves free to touch and be touched,
they explored every inch of each other's bodies with loving hands.
Minds linked, each thought -each feeling - reverberated between
them, allowing every desire to be satisfied the instant it was
formed.
He fed her pleasure back to her, and she returned it to
him, each sensation multiplying; their love and desire feeding
upon each other until their minds shattered apart and reformed,
joined and linked, becoming no longer two separate beings, but
purely one.
- - - - -
Prince Andalor spurred his pony ahead, laughing into
the wind as he outpaced his escort. Ignoring their pleas, he raced
ahead, expertly guiding his pony into the trees. It wasn't as
though he didn't know every inch of the estate like the back of his
hand. He'd explored these woods for hours; he knew every tree,
every stone, every stream. This was his home, and he desperately
needed some time alone to think.
The weight of being heir to the Realm was sometimes
frightening, especially to an eight year-old boy who had seen both
his parents die. Sometimes he dreamed about their deaths,
reliving every horrible moment in perfect detail. Much as he
enjoyed his photographic memory, there were moments when
was a more of a curse than a blessing. The foreign magician
understood as no one else did, Andalor had seen the knowledge
and pain flicker in his oddly-colored eyes.
Actually, it was because of the two foreigners - the two
travelers - that he was busily ducking his guards and tutors. If
the travelers were here, it meant that the Time of the ancient
Prophecy was finally at hand. Already, people were dying,
suffering throughout the Realm, and Andalor knew deep down
inside that things were only going to get worse. His tutors had
tried to shield him, to pretend that things were all right, but
Andalor was good at hearing things he wasn't supposed to. And
while the others might lie smoothly, Reinald was a terrible liar.
The mage would fidget terribly whenever he tried to keep
something from the Prince - rub at his nose, bite on his bottom
lip, mess with the hem of his robe. No, whatever they might say,
Andalor knew the Time was at hand. The young Prince just
wasn't sure what he should do about it.
Once he was certain he had left his pursuers far behind,
the fair-haired child slid down of his pony, and led the animal
through the underbrush, heading unerringly for one of his favorite
spots. Breaking through a thicket of pines, Andalor sighed with
pleasure as he saw the small waterfall trickling down the edge of
a small incline, a small pool formed at its base. Tying the pony to
a nearby tree, he yanked off his boots as he ran, laughing as he
waded into the water.
He splashed around for a few moments, just enjoying
the sense of freedom, before he decided to go back to shore and
settle down to figure out a plan of action. Just as he was about to
climb onto land, a sudden movement caught the corner of his eye
and he stopped in mid-stride.
"Hello?" he called out, glancing around him as his hand
felt for the small dagger held in a loop of his belt. But before his
fingers could close upon the hilt, there was a sudden flash of light
from the forest. The bright blue beam struck the water, freezing it
into solid form, turning ripples of liquid into carved flows of
stone. A sharp cry of dismay barely escaped Andalor's lips as his
body shimmered and glowed, slowly transmuting into a marbled
statue: silent, motionless, and cold.
End chapter 7
===========================================================================
==========================================
Chapter Eight - Part One
If there had been a morning in his life that Mulder had
been happier, he couldn't remember it. Looking down at the
sleeping form of his partner, he felt a fulfillment, a satisfaction
and a happiness that he had never known. The hell they had
shared yesterday had given way to paradise in the night. Clothed
in darkness, sheltered by starlight, they had removed the last of
the barriers between them. Their lovemaking had been both
tender and fevered, measured and passionate. It was everything
either of them had ever fantasized in lonely darkness or in cold
light. To be sure, he still feared the negative aspects of the life-
bond - now more than ever, with the danger that surrounded
them. But he was starting to realize the immensity of the joy that
same bond could bring. For the thousandth time in the past few
hours, he wished that he could just go off somewhere with Dana,
to be free to explore each other, to get to know each other better
in this new way. The danger to the Realm precluded all
possibility of that happening now. After what they had seen
yesterday, everyone's personal agenda was going to have to wait
until the fate of the Realm had been decided. My timing's always
been lousy, Mulder thought.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," whispered Scully, looking up
at him with laughter and love in her eyes. Even before her mind
had fully formed the thought, he had dipped his head to claim her
mouth, deepening the kiss as he tightened the arm that was
around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him.
"Mulder, it's almost dawn," she murmured, moving her
head a bit to give him better access to the sensitive skin of her
neck and throat. "We should get dressed and get back to camp."
"Yes, we really should," he breathed. "Just - not yet...."
- - - - -
"Aldara! Wake up!" Jourdain's urgent whisper carried
into her tent and the warrior was awake in an instant.
She poked her head through the tent flaps. "What is it?"
she demanded, knowing that he would have a good reason for
summoning her before first light. Or at least he'd better.
"The Mage Mulder is missing, as is Scully. Their tent
hasn't been slept in all night. The guards keeping watch said they
entered the woods soon after everyone retired last night, and no
one has seen them since. I'm getting worried. Anything could
have happened. But I don't want to alarm the others, not until
I'm sure I have to."
"What's your plan?"
"Come with me and help me search. Your eyes are
sharper than mine, especially in the dark."
She peered into his face. He did seem anxious. She
knew Scully's capabilities and was inclined to think that the
foreign woman was more than able to take care of herself in any
eventuality. But she knew Jourdain was feeling responsible for
the safety of the pair, and she respected that. She nodded. "All
right. Which way did they go?"
Quietly the two of them slid out of camp, choosing an
overgrown track which followed the course of the river. Not
daring to call out for fear of attracting unwanted attention, they
relied on Aldara's sharp eyes and ears in their search. The only
sounds she heard were Jourdain's mutterings, a combination of
prayers and threats to the gods that Mulder and Scully would be
found safely. It was perhaps because of those mutterings that she
did not hear the pair for whom they were searching until they had
almost blundered into them.
Aldara, not surprisingly, spotted them first. "It would
appear they are in little danger, Jourdain," she said dryly in her
softest whisper. "In fact, they appear to be in a truly enviable
state of health."
Jourdain looked over the top of her head, and grunted
softly. Taking her sleeve, he pulled her back up the path for a
distance of some fifty yards, then sat. She settled down beside
him.
"I'm loathe to interrupt, but we may have to - we need
to be on the road soon," he said. "I never thought - well, it's
hard to remember that foreign mages may take a wife, may have
a life-bond. I hope that didn't embarrass you, Aldara," he said, a
little embarrassed himself. Noting the shake of her head, he
continued, "Gods, I miss that." Realizing what he had just said,
he turned to her, eyes wide, stumbling in his effort to explain
himself. "Nay, nay, not THAT! Well, not that exactly. It's just -"
Giving up, he decided to start again.
"You know I was married, that my wife died some years
ago," he said softly. "After a while, you give up on the idea that
you can have that kind of happiness again. We weren't life-
bonded, as those two, but we were happy enough. I miss it. Not
so much that, the coupling." He inclined his head in the general
direction of where they had found Mulder and Scully. Then he
smiled, a little guiltily. "Well, yes, that too. But especially the
closeness. There are just times when - " he sighed.
"Have you ever thought of perhaps finding another?"
Aldara asked. She, too, sometimes ached for the closeness of a
lover, but had given up on the idea herself. How many men
wanted a half-breed female warrior for a lover? There had been
times when she was with Jourdain when she was almost sure that
he - but then, her experience in matters of the heart was so
limited, she may have misinterpreted a kind word for more than it
was.
He was silent for a long while. "Sometimes, yes. But
I'm not exactly young. And I'm a soldier, which means I'm in a
dangerous profession and I'll never be wealthy. Between age,
battlescars and nature, I'm not much to look at. I have little to
offer a woman."
"Well, that would depend on what a woman is looking
for, wouldn't it?" Aldara turned to look at him, a little shyly,
hoping to see some encouragement. Tentatively, she continued,
"Any woman looking for someone strong, and courageous, and
honorable; someone dependable, and faithful, and honest, would
be very happy with someone like you."
Jourdain was very still, except for the pounding of his
heartbeat, so loud that surely she could hear it. Almost inaudibly,
he whispered, "Would you know of anyone like that?"
A gentle hand stroked his cheek. "I might," she
whispered back, smiling.
- - - - -
The sun was just coming over the horizon, turning the
river to a ribbon of pink and gold, when Mulder and Scully
started reluctantly making their way back to camp. They hadn't
gone far when they came upon an extraordinary sight. Jourdain,
the rough grizzled warrior, was holding Aldara in his lap as
carefully as if he thought she might break, as firmly as if he
thought she might disappear. They were whispering. Her hand
was caressing his cheek, his occasionally reached down to touch
her hair, her throat, her face, as if to ensure himself that she was
real.
"Sorry, are we interrupting?" Mulder said softly.
The two sprang away from each other, quite red-faced,
feeling incredibly awkward in front of the Mage and his life-
bondmate.
"I'm afraid we have to get going and break camp. I
sympathize - you have no idea how much I sympathize,' Mulder
said, and then was amazed when the two experienced warriors
broke into giggles.
"Oh, we have an idea," said Aldara, Jourdain not
trusting himself to speak. The two led the way back to camp.
Mulder and Scully lagged a little way behind. "What do
you think all that's about?," he asked Scully.
From her vantage point this morning, Scully had had a
better view of the trail, and knew very well what their giggles
were all about. She smiled up at him. "Probably nothing."
Within a minute or two, they were back in camp, which
had sprung into life. Pots filled with water and pans with meat
strips were on the cookfires, and the soldiers were breaking down
the tents and getting them packed on the horses. Jourdain and
Aldara, once again just two soldiers, took charge of the
remainder of the breakfast preparation. They had all taken seats
around the fire. As Scully passed Mulder a mug of tea and a
plate, she mentally felt him recoil. Looking up into his face, she
saw that he had gone white.
"Excuse me." He paced a few yards off, and turned his
back to the group. He appeared to be staring into the distance.
After a several minutes, he turned to face them, his eyes ranging
over the small clearing. He nodded, his eyes distant for a few
more minutes, then he seemed to focus and walked slowly back
to the fire.
He spoke in a low voice. "There's been trouble at the
castle. The Prince was discovered to be missing yesterday
afternoon when his pony came back to the castle without him.
They've had search parties out all night to try to find him. They
finally found him this morning. Apparently, he has had some
kind of a spell cast against him." Jourdain and Aldara cursed
vociferously and Tarnor looked ready to burst into tears. Scully
had already picked up quite a bit from her link with Mulder, so
she knew before he made his announcement. Picturing the
beautiful, vibrant child turned into a cold, hard mockery of his
living self, she shuddered.
Mulder waited for their outbursts to die down, then
continued. "Reinald, of course, is devastated. No one knows
who did it, and the news is not yet widely known. But Reinald
said that those who have heard about it are getting restless. They
want someone to blame. There have been angry mobs gathering
at the castle, shouting for Reinald's head. We have to get back
there as fast as we possibly can. The ride back will take too long.
The Realm may be torn apart by revolution and anarchy by then.
Faced with no other alternative, Reinald and I are going to build
a Gate."
"What can we do?" asked Jourdain. Right now, he
needed to do something, to channel the incredible anger he felt.
He knew Aldara would feel the same way.
"Take charge of the other men. And the horses,
especially - they won't like all the noise and lightning and such.
The last thing we're going to need is my being distracted at a
critical moment by a stampede."
Scully looked at him. "This is dangerous, isn't it?"
He knew better than to try to lie. "Yes, it can be," he
admitted. "But I've done it before and I know a lot more now
than I did then. I'll be all right. I'm more worried about what
we'll find once we get back."
"I know. Mulder, that poor little kid. All right, what
can I do?" she asked.
"Keep everyone clear, no matter what. You, too." He
looked at her, not the way he had looked at her in all the months
and weeks that went before, but in the way he had started
looking at her since last night. He sent her a message, for only
each other's minds to know. By the way her mind caressed his,
the way her face glowed, the way her eyes grew slightly moist, he
knew she had received it. "Okay now, back up, and keep that
area over there clear." He indicated the area where the tents had
been pitched the night before.
He walked over the center of the area and established
his connection with Reinald. In some ways, in spite of what he
had said to Scully, having helped to build a Gate before was not a
lot of comfort. In the previous situation, it was their only chance
to escape death. He had been so disoriented and shell-shocked
by the fall through the Vortex and the attack of the soul-eaters
that he had not fully comprehended the dangers involved, which
now he understood only too well. He also understood better
now the enormity of their task and the price he would pay
physically and mentally, even if everything went as it should. He
braced himself, and sent Reinald the signal.
Within seconds, he was surrounded by the crackling
white and blue power flames, and he staggered with their force.
Scully gasped as white fire danced from his fingertips, blue flames
coursed down his legs. Although he had shielded himself,
because of their special bond she felt the incredible strength it
took for him to control this energy. Concentrating all his efforts,
he drove the power deep in the earth, anchoring it with the
professional twist Reinald had taught him. Panting, he squatted
down and took a couple minutes to recover, realizing that if he
passed out during the construction of the Gate, he would die and
would probably kill Reinald, as well. When he felt strong
enough, he stood and centered himself once again. Then, he
seized the top of the huge column of fiery energy with his mind,
bending it and plunging it into the ground. Taking a shaky
breath, he stepped into the center of the arch he had created, and
sent the energy back to Reinald.
A minute later, the arch began to cloud, then slowly
focus into sharp definition, and Reinald was there, calling to
them. Mulder summoned the soldiers, who had covered the
horses' heads with blankets to prevent as much as possible their
becoming frightened. They led the rearing, snorting beasts
through the arch to the castle courtyard. Next went Tarnor, then
Jourdain and Aldara. Wearily, he walked over the Scully and
took her hand.
"Speechless, Scully? That's not like you," he teased.
"You did that before? Built a Gate like that when we
were in the woods? You're right, I am speechless," she said.
"That was incredible."
He gathered her close, then cupped her face in his hands
and kissed her. "It was much more incredible this time. I'm
surprised I had the energy, after last night," he observed.
"If you weren't so obviously exhausted right now, I'd get
you for that." She smiled up at him, took his hand, and led him
through the Gate to Fairwood Keep.
- - - - -
When they had all arrived back through the portal, the soldiers
took charge of the horses and led them off in the direction of the
stable. Grimly, the others followed Reinald to his chambers,
every so often hearing the shouts and clamor of the mob outside
the castle gates. In his chamber at last, they sat at the hearth
while Reinald updated them.
"Did you tell them the nature of the spell on the Prince?"
he asked Mulder.
"No. Scully knows, I think. I thought I'd wait until we
got back here and they could see for themselves." Mulder paused
while Grejor served him tea. "Are you any closer to knowing
who did it?"
"I wish I were. Ask most of the people gathered outside
the gates and they'll tell you I did it." Reinald shook his head, a
resigned expression on his face. "I can't blame them really. It's
the most logical solution. Besides, they're frightened. The
harvests the last several years have been poor, not enough to
cause famine, but poor nonetheless. There have been intermittent
plagues, especially among the young. And now the attacks of the
beasts from the Dark Realm. It doesn't take a Mage to tell them
that the Prophecy is being fulfilled before their very eyes. They
know as well as anyone what's coming - that it could be the end
for all of us, for our world. They've looked to Mages from time
immemorial for protection, and all too often that trust was
abused by magicians who used their powers for selfish or spiteful
reasons. Their trust has been eroded. Now, it appears a Mage is
responsible for harming their Prince. Naturally, they'd be after
my head." Reinald's voice grew rough with emotion, and unshed
tears glinted in his eyes. "Oh, Andalor," he whispered.
"Where is he now?" Mulder asked gently.
Reinald gestured to Grejor, who opened the door to his
master's bedchamber. The Prince stood in the center of the
room, frozen for all time in stone. Mulder and Scully looked in
first, followed by Jourdain, Tarnor and Aldara. The five returned
to their chairs with identical expressions of sorrow and anger.
"What can we do?" asked Scully.
Reinald pulled himself together. "There's so much to do
I hardly know where to begin. Jourdain, Aldara - our enemies
without and within will lose no time in taking advantage of this.
As it is, word of the Prince's fate reached the people suspiciously
quickly, leading me to believe that factions inside the castle
spread the news. The ever-bickering factions and a panicked
populace would be enough to deal with. But we can hardly
expect the attacks from the Dark Realm's forces to stop.
Therefore, we have two battlefronts, Jourdain, my old friend.
And I believe one of your first duties will be to arrest and
imprison me."
"Nay! I'll never do it!" declared Jourdain. "No one can
make me. The idea - that you could harm a hair of the Prince's
head - it's ridiculous!"
"Thank you, Jourdain, your faith is appreciated, believe
me. But when the time comes, arresting me is exactly what you
must do." Reinald looked gravely at his Captain and friend.
"There will be revolution if it appears that the Prince's attacker
will not be brought to justice. As it is, there was almost a riot
when the magically sensitive in the crowd sensed the construction
of a Gate - I'm sure they thought I was making my escape. In
any event, if there is revolution, we will never be able to defend
against the evil creatures of the Dark Realm, and we will be
doomed for certain. Aldara, you will be in charge of keeping
order internally - preventing riots, keeping the factions and the
noble houses in line as much as possible, reassuring the people.
Keep Jourdain abreast of your activities. Jourdain, you need to
take charge of preparing our troops for war with the forces of the
Dark Realm." He stopped, noting the warrior's expression. "I do
realize that what I'm asking for is nearly impossible. Through
Mulder and Tarnor, I saw the unspeakable slaughter and
devastation at Wide River. But those creatures must have some
kind of weakness, or we must have some form of strength that
can be used successfully against them. I want you to find our
strength or their weakness and draw up a strategy for using what
you find. You are to have all the resources of the Realm at your
disposal, including the cooperation of Mage Mulder, Scully, and
my apprentices, Tarnor and Grejor. Do you understand?"
Grimly, Jourdain nodded.
"Good." Reinald paused, letting his head drop back
against the chair. The Mage's skin was almost gray from
exhaustion. Between being up all night coordinating the search
for the Prince, the emotional drain of the Prince's fate, and
building the Gate, the toll on him had been heavy. "You may all
leave, all but Mulder and Scully. Grejor, you too are dismissed."
"Mage, is there nothing I can help you with? You are
exhausted," Grejor protested.
"No, lad. You're a good boy, but I'll be resting soon. I
just need a few words with the Travellers first. I'll call you if I
need you."
Sullenly, Grejor mumbled a farewell, then left the
chamber.
When he had gone, Reinald turned to Mulder and
Scully. "Well, I see another part of the Prophecy has been
fulfilled! One that for a change brings me great joy." He smiled
benignly at the pair.
Scully sensed Mulder grow tense beside her. Reinald
sensed it too.
"Even now you haven't told her, Mulder?" he chided,
shaking his head.
"Told me what?" asked Scully, looking at Mulder.
"Everything happened so fast! Really, Scully, I would
have told you on the ride back today, if there had been a ride
back. I didn't want to tell you before because..." Mulder
hesitated. "Well, several reasons, I guess. I was having a hard
time dealing with it, and I thought you'd have an even harder
time. And I didn't want to put any pressure on you, I wanted you
to make up your own mind, and - "
"Told me WHAT?" She demanded.
"Um...Reinald, would you - ?" Mulder looked almost
desperately at Reinald, who chuckled, then nodded.
"Mulder must be forgiven for not telling you, my dear,"
Reinald said. "I'm not sure he believed me when I first told him,
and then the idea frightened him badly - " He noticed Mulder's
look of shock. "Well, it did, did it not? Yes, I thought so.
Anyway, try not to be too hard on him. He has a point when he
says that he didn't want to influence you in any - "
Scully's voice was icy. "If one of you doesn't tell me
what's going on, NOW, I'm going to throw a little Mage-storm of
my own!"
Mulder and Reinald looked at the irate woman and then
at each other.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Well," said Reinald. "You and Mulder
share a life-bond. Your auras predetermined it. Once you met,
there was no stopping it."
"What exactly is a life-bond?" Now that her questions
were being answered, Scully's voice had lost its edge.
"It's the closest kind of relationship that exists, Dana,"
explained Mulder. "It's why we had those visions when we first
arrived, before Corvay taught us how to control them. It's why
we always know where the other is. That's very unusual here.
It's not because of your psi ability either, although that kind of
makes it all the stronger. Mostly it's because of this life-bond
thing."
"Mulder, why in heaven's name didn't you tell me?"
asked Scully.
He looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, partly
ashamed of not telling her about the life-bond, partly ashamed of
his fear. Seeing Mulder's difficulty, Reinald stepped in.
"There are aspects of the life-bond which are
rather...daunting," explained Reinald. "I believe Mulder had
trouble with the concept that the life-bondmates are less than a
whole, singly. He feared losing you, and losing himself in the
process."
"I just emotionally hared out," admitted Mulder softly,
deep pain in his eyes. Also in his mind, and she was getting the
full force of it, as she gasped and her eyes filled with tears. "Oh!
Dana, I'm sorry." He shielded, and her pain diminished.
"Anyway, thinking about the life-bond brought back all the hell of
your abduction and illness and all my self-destructiveness and
desperation then. I just didn't want to deal with the potential for
that much devastation again."
Even if she had not just shared his pain, she would have
known the effect that Reinald's explanation of the life-bond
would have on him. He was only too well aware of the fact that
without her, he was not whole. He hardly needed some life-
bond to reinforce it. And she was well aware of his fear for
losing her. Even in their own world, without telepathy or
empathic links, that fear had been communicated to her in a
variety of ways in almost every case they had investigated
together. "And now?" she asked, her eyes still bright with tears.
"Nothing's really changed, Mulder. Can you deal with that
potential now?"
"Now I know the extent of the joy, too," he said
simply, his voice rich with feeling. "And I'm willing to risk the
pain for the incredible joy that this brings. That you bring."
Mulder searched her face. "But I wanted you to choose freely, to
decide to enter into this relationship without the pressure of
knowing that it was destined."
"So are we life-bonded now?" asked Scully. "How did
it happen?" She looked at Mulder, who in turn looked at
Reinald.
"In a way, you always were, from birth. Once you met
and spent time together, it was - I'm sorry, the language spell
really can't cope with this, your language doesn't have the words
- "forged", is the closest word you have. The bond becomes
increasingly strong and close over time. And once it has been -
oh, the language problem again -"validated", it becomes inviolate,
unbreakable, unassailable, with even more closeness. Yes, now
that your bond has been validated, it shows quite clearly in your
auras. Scully's now carries a little of Mulder's blue, and Mulder's
has some green and just a touch of brown. Both absolutely
unique. You may still need some training in dealing with some of
the feelings you're going to have, especially now that you're
validated. Corvay can help with that, if there's time."
"Time is something we're running short of. What do
you want us to do, Reinald?" asked Mulder gravely.
"Find out who did this to the Prince," Reinald replied
without hesitation. "I appreciate the fact that you don't think it
was me. Obviously it was someone with a knowledge of magic,
but that could be any of hundreds - every village has its Mage.
Yesterday was a Market Day, so there were countless numbers of
strangers within the castle gates. Some Mage in the pay of one
of the noble houses, perhaps a friend of Drellor, who knows?
But we must find the person who cast the spell. In the language
of the casting we will find the only clues we're likely to get for
the key to removing the spell."
"Is the Prince still alive? Can he hear us, sense us?"
asked Scully. She didn't know which would be worse, not
sensing at all, or being able to sense those around you, but not be
able to move a muscle or communicate in any way.
"I believe with all my heart and mind that he is still alive,
but is in some form of stasis," replied Reinald. "As to the other
.. I go in, I talk to him, I try to reassure him, but ..." His eyes
filled with tears.
"We'll do whatever we can," Mulder promised. "In our
reality, this is the kind of thing we do for our work - investigating
- and we're pretty good at it. Just keep your mind open to
communication, especially if you're arrested and they won't let me
see you. By the way, am I likely to be suspected of casting the
spell on the Prince?"
"There's been some talk, again I think it was generated
by someone here in the castle," Reinald admitted. "But
fortunately you were at too great a distance and with too many
credible witnesses for anyone to take such talk seriously." He
sagged. "I'm sorry, but I must rest now. Mulder, you should rest
too for a few hours, to recover from building the Gate. You
don't know when you're going to be called upon to use your
powers, so you need to keep them in top form."
"I'll do that, Reinald."
As Mulder and Scully stood to leave, the Mage grabbed
Mulder's sleeve and looked at him. The two communicated
silently for a few moments, then Mulder nodded. "I'll remember,"
he said.
After seeing Reinald safely to bed, the couple strolled
wearily to their chamber.
- - - - -
"Mad at me?" He looked at her askance.
The two had spoken little on their way from Reinald's
quarters. Now they were back in their own chamber. The
weather, perhaps sensing the mood of the Realm, had grown
overcast and chilly, and they were glad for the fire that crackled
merrily in the hearth, cheering the otherwise gloomy room.
"I'll get over it. I do understand why you didn't tell me -
but that doesn't mean I agree with it. When will you learn not to
try to protect me all the time? No more, all right?"
"No more," he agreed, a little too easily.
Scully sighed. "Mulder, don't promise what you can't
deliver. I'd be satisfied with a promise that you will in the future
at least ATTEMPT not to be so overprotective of my body and
my psyche."
"Okay. I will try as hard as I can not to be so
overprotective. How's that?" He looked at her hopefully.
"Friends again?"
In spite of herself, Scully smiled. "I guess that's the best
I can reasonably expect." She closed the distance between them
to put her arms around him. He bent his head, his lips finding
hers in a kiss that began chaste and sweet and gradually became
more demanding, as he cupped the rounded softness of her
bottom and pressed her against him. While she could still think
straight, Scully broke away from him.
"You need to go to bed, Mulder."
"I intend to." He kept moving toward her, his hands
tangled in her hair, raining little kisses on her face, backing her up
until she was sandwiched between his body and the bed.
"Those were Reinald's orders. You're supposed to get
some sleep," she said, with mock severity.
"I will, I usually do..." Mulder took her hair and freed it
from its practical braid to cascade around her shoulders.
"...afterwards."
He took her by the waist and boosted her onto the bed,
standing with her knees on either side of him. Unlike that first
night so many weeks ago, now they did not avoid each other's
eyes. No more did they have to hide the ferocious hunger
reflected there; rather, they gloried in the implicit promise. No
more did they have anything they had to hide; they were eager to
share everything they were or needed or wished. Her arms
curved around his neck and she leaned close to trace his lips with
her tongue before plunging it between them to kiss him deeply.
He removed the belt securing her tunic and ran his hands between
her shirt and her skin, savoring the warmth and softness they
found there. He breathed as if he had been running.
His hands came out from beneath her shirt to cup her
face. His expression became grave, and he looking deeply into
her eyes. "Do you think you can manage going through the rest
of your life being bonded with me?"
He asked the question seriously. She knew he expected
a serious, considered answer. Her reply was in her head, and
then it was in his, too, before she could bring the words to her
lips. She was suddenly afraid that maybe it was the wrong thing
to say, that she had said too much, or too little....
"No, that's perfect," he said, softly. "Me, too, Dana."
"You know," she said with a hint of a smile, "if you had
said "bonded TO you" my answer might have been different."
He returned her smile. "I knew what I was doing. I
chose my words deliberately."
She relaxed and stroked his cheek. "This instant
communication is a little scary. Unless I think to shield, before I
even say something, you know what it is. An unguarded thought
could really hurt. I can see that this could have its downside."
"Yes, but right now let me show you the upside," he
murmured. He buried his face in the curve between her neck and
her shoulder, nibbling on what, for her, had always been an
especially sensitive erogenous area. His hands had again slipped
under her shirt to caress the skin down the length of her spine
and back up again, just the way she had been hoping he would.
She tightened her legs around his waist and gasped softly.
"Show me more."
---------------
===============================================
Chapter Eight - Part Two
Scully awoke when Lita came in to light the torches and
lay the supper table. Placing a cautionary finger to her lips, she
extricated herself from Mulder's limbs and reached for the shirt so
hastily discarded a few hours before. She pulled on the long, full
garment and slid out of bed. She and Lita went down the length
of the room to stand near the hearth.
"Try not to disturb him, he needs to rest. Leave the
torches unlit for now. Just set the food out, in case he wakes up
hungry. I'll take care of anything else."
Lita regarded her with an impish grin. "Congratulations,
Traveller Scully."
Scully looked puzzled. "For what, Lita?"
"On your validation, of course," she smiled.
"What is this, written on a billboard somewhere?"
Scully groaned. "First Jourdain and Aldara see us and then
Reinald knows and now you know. Is there anyone who doesn't
know?
"It's real hard to keep secrets here. It's in your aura,"
she explained. "My people are very sensitive to auras, and I'm
more sensitive than most, more so than many Mages, it's been
said. Anyway, you clearly share some Mage aura now. It's no
wonder he needs his rest," she teased.
Scully chuckled. "Thanks for your good wishes, Lita.
Why don't you take the rest of the evening off, I don't think we'll
be needing anything else. See you in the morning." She watched
as the elf quickly finished laying the table in preparation for
dinner, and departed.
I wonder what it's going to be like having no secrets and
damn little privacy, Scully thought, as she pulled on the rest of
her clothes. Tenderness washed over her as she looked at
Mulder on her way out. He was sprawled across the bed on his
stomach, the bedclothes twisted around him, hair falling into his
eyes, dreaming - dreaming of her! She smiled. Mentally she
pulled down a light shield, blocking his dreams from her view.
His dreams, at least, should be his own. She gently closed the
door behind her.
She found Corvay in his workroom as she expected.
"My dear, come in, come in! Congratulations on your
validation!"
Scully's eyes rolled heavenward. She resignedly shook
her head, then she accepted his salutation with good grace.
"I'm so happy for you. And for us, as this helps to
further the Prophecy. Maybe we have a chance now. Please,
have some tea and tell me why you're here, visiting an old elf like
me when you could be with your bondmate." Corvay scurried
about, finding the tea things and a couple of stools.
"You knew all along about this life-bond - you even
hinted about it when I first told you about the visions," Scully
accused, curious. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It wasn't my place to tell you. Besides, Reinald asked
me not to. He knew that Mulder was having a hard time with it,
and unless it was absolutely essential to your welfare for you to
know, he thought it best to just give him some time to come to
terms with it. I agreed. So, now you're validated! Obviously
this did not come to pass in the usual manner..." he looked at her
expectantly.
"Since I'm still not certain exactly what is meant by
validation, I have no idea what the usual manner is," said Scully.
"Oh, well, with validation there's a long period of
preparation and training, then a very long and involved traditional
ritual. This is followed by the families of the bondmates
accompanying the couple to a special dwelling, and performing
yet another long, complicated ceremony, and then leaving them
there for several days. During that time the validation takes
place." The little elf's nose twitched and his face was alight with
curiosity.
"I'm still just guessing to a certain extent, but if
validation means what I think it means, no, it was nothing like
that," Scully admitted, smiling. "I think it's something that
Mulder and I have consciously avoided for a long time. We each
decided independently that it would complicate things too much.
Since we've been here, though, there have been changes. We've
become closer, but - I don't know - I guess we've still been
avoiding the issue. But last night, after all the horror at Wide
River, we needed each other so badly, it just happened. It just
seemed right - to affirm life - after so much death and
destruction. Actually, that's why I'm here to see you. I had to do
something in Wide River, something I didn't want to have to do,
something that has been haunting me. I need your advice." Her
smile had transformed into a troubled frown.
"May I enter as a Healer and touch that memory,
Scully?" he said formally, quite serious now. "You could tell
me about it, but it would be preferable if I saw it as it actually
happened. I must tell you though - you should know that this
will also force you to see it again, to relive the moment actually,
which will probably cause you some distress."
She considered his request for a moment, thinking with
a little wistfulness of the days when she was the only one with
access to her mind. God, the last thing she wanted to do was to
have to face those horrible moments again. She sighed, gathered
all her courage, then she nodded.
"Just relax." Corvay brought his stool next to hers, held
her hand and was motionless for some time. When he finally
broke contact several minutes later, both of their faces were wet
with tears. "I'm so sorry, my dear. What a horrible experience. I
don't think anything I could do could have prepared you
adequately for that, not if I had had years to do it rather than
weeks."
"Corvay, did I do the right thing for that poor man?"
Scully voice was still hoarse with grief and guilt. "Was there
anything else I could have done?"
"Nothing that would have changed the outcome for the
poor devil. You were correct, there was no treatment for him.
You had no option. You did precisely as I would have done.
Sometimes the only thing a healer can do is offer a merciful
death. That is doing your patient as much of a service as
anything you can do in healing."
"In my reality, healers are not permitted to do this. I
can see both sides of the issue very clearly, in fact I accept some
of the arguments against such action. But his suffering was so
intense, and there was no purpose to it." The troubled expression
remained on her face, her eyes still shimmering with tears.
"The upcoming times are going to be filled with such
situations Just know that what you are doing is right." He
smiled sadly at her.
She sniffed a little. "That helps, Corvay, it really does. I
think I knew all along, but it helps to hear you say it."
"I can help more, if you let me. I have a healing chant
for such troubling thoughts - will you permit?"
Shyly, she nodded. He held her hand lightly and thought
rather than uttered the chant, the soothing words going deep into
her very soul. He released her hand and let the words instill in
her mind for a short time without distraction. Gradually, she
returned to full awareness and smiled at him.
"Better now, isn't it? Even your aura shines a bit
brighter. Good, I'm glad an old being could help. Will you be in
for your lesson tomorrow?" the tiny elf inquired.
"I hope so. Things are happening so quickly. Have you
seen the Prince?"
"Yes." The little elf looked downcast again. "There's
nothing I can do, not right now, anyway. Perhaps when a Mage
has removed the spell, Andalor will need my assistance if his
memories of the event have traumatized him, especially in view of
his gift. As he is, I can do nothing."
Scully nodded, knowing how much the admission
probably hurt the soft-hearted elf. He was a Healer, he wanted
nothing more than to stop the pain and the hurt, and sometimes it
was not in his power.
"Well, you've helped me. Corvay, thank you so much."
Scully bent down and kissed him on the top of his head. "See
you tomorrow," she smiled, as she stepped out into the dark
garden.
- - - - -
Infuriated, Jourdain paced back and forth in Drellor's
chambers. The revolting little man was smiling smugly, almost
gloating. He had made a valid point and he knew it.
"I admit I have never cared for Reinald. He is arrogant
and obnoxious and uses his power for his own advancement, like
so many Mages these days. Whether I think it was he that turned
my nephew into such a deplorable condition is beside the point."
He smiled nastily. "I happen to think that he did, but as I say, it
is beside the point. What is to the point is that the Realm is in a
state of terrible unrest, and only bringing the Prince's attacker to
justice will quell the coming revolution." He paused to let his
words sink in.
"What is the point of bringing someone who is NOT the
Prince's attacker to justice?" growled Jourdain. "Because
nothing anyone can say will ever make me believe that Reinald
knowingly did that child harm."
Drellor shrugged. "First of all, it will prove to the
Realm that the matter is in hand, and that no one can escape
justice, no matter how powerful. That, in itself, is I believe a
good enough reason to arrest Reinald without delay." His eyes
narrowed as he saw the logic of his argument register with
Jourdain.
Much as the warrior did not want to admit it, Drellor's
point was well taken. He had met with Aldara an hour ago, after
she had had a chance to gather information from the mobs still
camped outside and representatives of the noble houses and the
other species of the Realm. The news was sobering. The Realm
was teetering on the brink of collapse. Rumor ran rampant, fed
by the factions who were eager to turn any situation to their
advantage. Some factions were lining up behind Drellor, and a
few were staying loyal to the Regent. Most were just fanning the
flames of discontent and waiting for an opportunity to advance
their own candidate to replace Reinald as Regent as soon as he
was found guilty of putting the spell on the Prince. The populace
was mostly concerned about the Prince and thirsting for justice
for his enchanter. Aldara reported that Reinald had been correct
- there was a lot of anti-Mage sentiment among the people, and
they were terrified that the Prophecy was coming true.
Drellor broke into Jourdain's thoughts. "Possibly, the
spell was a mistake, maybe Reinald lost control of his power for a
moment and inflicted harm when he was trying to do good. And
now he is so consumed with guilt and regret that even he has
blotted out the event from his memory." Drellor looked at
Jourdain slyly. While the Royal Guard Captain might never
admit to the possibility of Reinald harming the Prince
deliberately, he might find the argument of a tragic mistake
persuasive. He saw that he had made another direct hit.
Again, Jourdain could not keep his expression neutral as
he considered Drellor's suggestion. Not very likely, he thought,
but just barely possible. He was under no illusions - he was not
taken in by Drellor's act of rationality and devotion to the Realm.
The man was scum, just out to get an enemy removed and
himself named as Regent, so he would have control of the Realm.
But Jourdain also knew how Drellor's arguments would sound to
the factions and the people, if in fact he had not already broadcast
them.
Drellor was ready with his final salvo. "If, as you say,
Reinald is completely innocent," he said earnestly, "what better
opportunity for luring the malefactor into a state of security
where he likely to err and reveal himself, than by Reinald's arrest?
As the trial of Reinald proceeds, you can be waiting to trap the
real enchanter."
Jourdain stared at Drellor with distaste. Actually, he
had had the same thought himself, he was ashamed to say. He
strode over to within an inch of the pudgy little man, towering
over him and purposely intimidating him as much as possible.
"All right, Drellor, you have made your point. I go now
to arrest my friend Reinald. But remember, one of those I shall
be watching most closely is you!"
He stomped over to the door and flung it open. Grejor
almost fell into the room from the hallway, looking at Jourdain
with terror. Jourdain snorted, now both of the other inhabitants
of the room beneath his contempt. Growling, he strode out the
door and down the hall. He stopped at the armory, and selected
four guards to accompany him, then continued to Reinald's
chambers, where he tapped on the door.
Reinald himself answered. "Come in, my friend, I've
been expecting you." He opened the door wide and stepped back
to allow the Captain and his guards to enter.
Jourdain's face was grave. "I'm sorry about this,
Reinald. I would give all I have not to be doing this."
"No, you're doing the right thing. But I have a few
instructions for you." Reinald seemed to be taking his arrest
calmly. The sleep he had had the past several hours seemed to
have done him a lot of good. "First, I give you charge over the
Prince. See that he is kept somewhere safe - the armory, your
quarters, wherever. But he is never to be left alone. I don't think
there will be any further attempts on him, but it pays to be safe.
Secondly, see that news of my arrest is broadcast immediately.
This might calm some of the people's fears. Make sure everyone
knows that you were instrumental in my arrest - it is important
that you are seen more as an administrator of justice than as my
friend and ally. And third, do not allow Mulder to see me."
Jourdain's eyes grew wide and he gasped. "What? Do
you suspect him? Do you think he may try to harm you?"
"No, no, nothing of the sort. Just the opposite, in fact.
The purity of his aura would dismiss that thought, if nothing else
did. No, if anyone is acting for totally unselfish motives, it is
Mulder and Scully. But again, it is not wise for them to be seen
as too closely allied with me. They invite speculation because
they are foreigners to begin with, and his being a Mage also
makes him suspect. They must be able to move about freely in
order to find the person that enchanted the Prince; they won't be
able to do that if they are dogged by my enemies who also
suspect them. Between ourselves, if Mulder and I need to
communicate, we can do so, but in a way so no one else will
know. Can you do these things for me?" Reinald inquired.
"Of course, Reinald.
"Have you made any progress on the plans for our
defense from the Dark Realm?"
"I haven't had much chance. I have met with Drellor,
who knows I am about to arrest you and is no doubt clapping his
fat little hands for joy." Jourdain glowered. "I have also met
with Aldara concerning the status of our internal enemies. She
has things well in hand there," he said with some pride, which
was not lost on Reinald. In spite of his predicament, the Mage
smiled, understanding only too well the source of that pride.
"She has also given me the beginnings of an idea for our strategy
against the evil ones. I dare not say more until I have had time to
think."
Reinald nodded. "Then you appear to have things under
control, insofar as that is possible. Trust no one, my friend - no
one except Mulder, Scully, Tarnor and Aldara. Of them I can be
certain; to my sorrow, no one else," he said sadly. Then his voice
picked up some energy. "Now. I have had an idea. I suggest we
put on a little demonstration. Put me in shackles."
"But Reinald, there is no need for that!"
"I know, but it will look good for the mob below. You
will take me up to the battlements and make the announcement of
my arrest, I will show them my shackles, and then you will take
me to the dungeon - the most commodious cell, please, I do not
wish unnecessary discomfort - remove the shackles and then you
will lock me up. That should please the mobs and our other
enemies and give you a little respite from them as well." Reinald
smiled. "Anything worth doing is worth doing well, Jourdain."
Jourdain motioned for one of the guards to shackle
Reinald's wrists. "But loosely, mind!
Belspar, you will stay behind here to look after the Prince until
my return. No one is to enter other than myself, is that clear?"
The guard saluted and took went into the bedchamber where the
Prince stood.
Then the little group started the long walk through the
hallways and up to the battlements.
- - - - -
Scully arrived back at their chamber to find Mulder
pulling on his breeches and shirt. "Reinald's been arrested," he
announced without preamble. "He just contacted me."
"What are you going to do?" Scully said, concerned.
"For the moment, nothing," replied Mulder. "He's
made it clear that he doesn't want me to visit him in jail. It's
getting fairly late to do anything tonight, as far as real
investigation goes. I thought maybe we could use this time to
come up with a plan of action for tomorrow. And eat. I'm
starving, for some reason."
"The fact that you haven't eaten today may have
something to do with that. Let me see what Lita left us." Scully
stirred the pot. "Looks like a vegetable stew. Let me just stick it
on the fire for a few minutes to warm up. That was interesting,
what Reinald said about the poor harvests for the past few years.
I had noticed a certain sameness to the diet, but I figured that's
just what people ate here. I didn't realize that it might be because
of food shortages."
"We're guests here, Scully. I'm sure we would have
been the last to feel any effects from food shortages. Their
natural sense of hospitality would have made sure of that. Things
must be getting worse, though; meals have been pretty skimpy
lately. And if we're going to be mobilizing troops, there will
probably be some form of rationing imposed."
Scully stirred the stew, then dished it into thick
earthenware bowls, passing one to him. "Mulder?"
"Oh, thanks," he said, distracted.
"I didn't get most of that. What are you thinking
about?" She dipped her spoon into her bowl and began eating.
"Trying to think of a way to go about investigating this,"
he replied. "We really don't have any authority here, so the
cooperation we get will be pretty haphazard. From the little that
Reinald has told me about all the various political and family and
species factions, an outsider doesn't have a snowball's chance in
Hell of figuring out what's going on with them. If the motive is
purely political - someone out to remove the present authority
and replace it with someone else - I think we're in trouble,"
Mulder said, frowning.
"I agree. And from the little contact I've had with the
noble houses and from what Aldara has said, I think the
cooperation we can expect is somewhere between extremely
limited and none," Scully said. "The thing is, Mulder, if the
motive isn't political, what is it? I can't bring myself to believe
that anyone here, not even the repulsive Drellor, would align
himself with the forces of the Dark Realm. First, I don't think the
creatures of the Dark Realm feel the need for an "inside man" -
they probably think that this Realm is theirs for the taking any
time they want to take it. Also, there would be communication
problems, assuming the creatures speak a different language, and
there's no reason why they wouldn't. So I think we can eliminate
treason, consorting with the enemy, that kind of thing. Want
more stew?"
"Please." Mulder pushed his bowl forward for another
helping, then leaned back in his chair. "All right. I agree.
Treason is out. Politics is something we don't want to consider
unless all else fails. So what's left?" Mulder counted on his
fingers. "Greed. Not a very good motive, in my opinion. I
haven't noticed evidence of any great wealth around here. Maybe
it's a result of an agrarian economy and consecutive years of poor
harvests, but I'd say the movers and the shakers here at the castle
are no better off than the farmers and merchants and craftsmen.
Besides which, with the forces of the Dark Realm camped on our
doorstep, how long could anyone reasonably expect to stay
wealthy? Or alive, for that matter. So I would have to eliminate
greed as a viable motive. What else?"
"Revenge?" suggested Scully. "We know there was
bad blood between Drellor and Reinald. And we know that anti-
Mage feeling is running high. Maybe we shouldn't be looking for
someone who wanted to harm the Prince or change the order of
succession. Maybe we should be looking for someone who's out
to get Reinald."
Mulder nodded slowly, considering her suggestion. "A
personal motive. I like it, Scully. It would certainly be much
easier to investigate. Okay, what else? What other personal
motives should we be considering?"
"Love, requited or otherwise. Since Mages don't
indulge - present company excepted, of course - that seems
unlikely." Scully grinned at Mulder. "Your turn."
"Jealousy. But jealous of what?" Mulder looked
puzzled. "Reinald has better than average magical powers, but
that's a gift. It isn't reasonable to be jealous of that."
"We may not be dealing with someone who's thinking
reasonably," Scully observed.
"Good point. What else is there to be jealous of?
Attention maybe?" Mulder posed.
"You know what strikes me?" asked Scully. "The
timing. Why now? It would seem to be a really stupid time to
try to take over the Realm, with the Dark Forces breathing down
our necks. That's another reason I think this is personal, Mulder.
As part of a plan for acquiring power or wealth, it's insane, it
makes no sense at all. But if this is just some person acting out
of anger or jealousy or frustration, then it does make sense."
"Scully, you're right!" Mulder leapt to his feet and
started pacing, just the way he had done so frequently back in his
basement office at FBI headquarters a lifetime ago. "This makes
it much easier. Now we just have to compile a list of suspects -
people who would have reason to want to get back at Reinald for
some personal reason, probably anger, revenge or jealousy. Or
any ideas about who we can eliminate? We can't ignore the fact
that someone without magical powers might have hired an
unscrupulous Mage to do the dirty work, either, though I'd still
lean towards someone with Mage ability - and quite a bit of it. I
know from experience that a spell as complex as this one is not
easy to build or use."
"Well, I vote we eliminate Jourdain, Aldara and Tarnor
for a start," she said. "First of all, they were with us in Wide
River. I suppose that wouldn't prevent them from having hired
someone, but still. I know Aldara pretty well. I'm aware she
doesn't particularly like Mages, and that might be seen as a
motive. But if she got angry, she'd slit Reinald's throat in a
temper. She wouldn't plot, nor would she use an innocent kid to
get back at him. It's just not her style."
"I agree, one hundred percent. Having been on the
receiving end of her temper, I know you're right. If she lost it,
she'd be perfectly capable of doing a lot of damage before she
came to her senses, but never something like this." Mulder's eyes
narrowed as he thought. "Okay, what about Jourdain? He too
strikes me as a very up-front kind of guy. If pushed, he'd run
someone through with a sword, but he wouldn't hatch plots. Nor
would he harm the Prince. That's out of the picture
psychologically, he has an innate awe and respect for authority
figures.
"Tarnor?" Mulder shook his head. "I can't believe he'd
do this. He does have some mage ability which should put him on
the suspect list, but in all the time we've spent with him, both in
the forest and at Wide River, he hasn't done or said anything
suspicious."
"Okay, so who does that leave, that we know of?"
Scully's eyes lit up with an idea. "Maybe it was an elf - they're
supposed to have a fairly high level of natural magical ability.
But not Corvay - I refuse to believe that. He's devastated about
the Prince. Besides, he's in my mind and I'm in his all the time. If
he had anything to hide, I think he would have made some kind
of excuse to stop my lessons. He couldn't be certain that I
wouldn't take a peek someplace in his head I wasn't supposed to
be."
Mulder smiled, intrigued and as always, burning with
curiosity. "Someday you're going to have to teach me how that
psychic healing works. Anyway, about elves. I suppose it's
possible. But Reinald's been so busy with me, he hasn't had time
to even notice the existence of anyone else, let alone time to piss
off some elf so badly that the elf would want to put a spell on the
Prince and a frame on Reinald." Mulder sat and leaned back in
his chair and closed his eyes.
Who had the thought first, neither could say. But
suddenly, the both sat upright. "Grejor!"
"It makes perfect sense, Mulder. He has magical
abilities, so he had means. He was here at the castle, so he had
opportunity. He was the apple of Reinald's eye until you came
along. Then all Grejor was good for was sweeping up smashed
bottles and serving tea and other menial tasks." Scully's face was
lit with enthusiasm. "He's jealous of Reinald's attention to you,
your training, and your abilities. His training has come to a
standstill, while Reinald has devoted himself to you. He's
probably even been jealous of the affection between Reinald and
Andalor. So he had a motive." She frowned. "What I can't
understand is why he didn't target you. He should be more angry
with you than with anyone."
"That's something we'll have to ask him. It makes sense
that he's got the mage talent. I didn't like the idea that a mage
handed off such a powerful spell to someone else to activate - it
could explode too easily in the wrong direction. All right, so we
consider Grejor our prime suspect," Mulder said. "Now how do
we flush him out? Any ideas?"
"Too bad they don't have polygraphs here," Scully
joked.
Mulder stared at her. "But they do!"
"What?" Scully stared at him.
"They do." Mulder sat forward to explain. "Whenever
Reinald was trying to be evasive or less that completely truthful,
something happened to his aura. The best way I can explain it is
that it flickered, and the tone got very slightly darker. Now,
Reinald has an aura that's really easy to distinguish, because he's
so powerful. I'm not very good at auras at the best of times. We
kind of glossed over that part of the training because it wasn't
really a priority. In fact, Reinald admitted to me that auras
weren't his specialty either, that reading auras took a lot of
concentration on his part. Anyway, theoretically, Grejor's aura
should undergo some tell-tale changes if he lies while we're
questioning him. Unfortunately with my lack of skill at reading
auras, I don't think I'd be able to see it well enough to discern
slight changes."
"Lita!" Scully exclaimed.
"Where?" Mulder glanced behind him quickly, thinking
that she had just come in. "What about Lita?"
"Lita knew immediately that we - ummmm - were
"validated", because she could see it in my aura. She said she
was especially good at reading auras, better than some Mages,
she said. Do you think she would help us?"
"We can ask in the morning. Okay, now that we have
our prime suspect and a way to gather evidence, we need to think
about something else." Scully looked quizzically at him. "What
kind of evidence do we need?" Mulder prompted. "For all we
know, their justice system works like trial by fire or the Spanish
Inquisition or the Salem witch trials. I think we need to find out
the course of the trial and what kind of evidence is admissible or
inadmissible. Also we need to get a time frame. Will the trial be
tomorrow, next month, next year?" Mulder sighed. "Not that I
think we have that long." He stood up, restless. "It's not too
terribly late, is it? Do you think we could go ask Jourdain or
Aldara?"
"I don't see why not," said Scully, standing. "I know
you - you'll be up all night thinking about it if we don't find out."
He put his arms around her. "I may be up all night, but
that is NOT what I'll be doing."
Scully laughed. "Let's go, Mulder."
- - -