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